My artistic journey underwent a profound transformation, transitioning from realism colored pencil art to spiritual expression. This shift essentially evolved into a psychic interpretation of my life.
I grappled with existential questions: What is my purpose? Who am I? What contributions can I offer to this world? Do I even desire to contribute? As I yearned to create art that was more meaningful and inspiring, these inquiries spiraled into a bewildering mental maze, leaving me exclaiming, “What the actual f#@!”
However, through this tumult, I discovered how these uncertainties could be channeled into spiritually enriching art and lessons. I learned to embrace the ambiguity, finding solace in the journey rather than fixating on finding definitive answers.
We’re so conditioned to live fixated on the future, all the while attributing present hardships to the past. It’s taken me 33 years to grasp the profound truth: this very moment, here and now, is the seed I plant for my future.
Art has been a lifelong pursuit for me. Before delving into spiritual expression, I honed my skills in realism, meticulously crafting drawings with colored pencils. It was a captivating journey, immersing myself in meditative hours, intricately detailing even the tiniest elements, resulting in images almost indistinguishable from photographs of reality.
For a prolonged period, something felt amiss. The once vibrant connection I shared with my art began to wane, leaving the emotions and significance it conveyed feeling superficial. Sure, I possessed skill in crafting realistic art, but what more lay beyond?
Don’t misunderstand me; the journey held its share of beauty. It was a phase I needed to traverse, forging meaningful bonds with kindred spirits who shared a passion for realistic drawing or simply sought companionship during my live demonstrations on YouTube. I also created poignant pieces in tribute to beloved animals who had departed this earthly realm.
Yet, despite these experiences, a void persisted—a yearning for a deeper connection, not with others, but with myself. It was like hovering on the brink of discovery, tantalizingly close yet frustratingly elusive.
The process of releasing the style of art that no longer served me proved to be a significant challenge. It’s only now, after a full 4.5 years, that I’ve finally relinquished the thoughts tethering me to it. Thoughts such as, “It took me years to build a following, and now I’m changing direction. How do I explain this shift to others? I might lose subscribers. What if they don’t appreciate the change? What a waste of time.” These thoughts led me into a state of inertia regarding my art.
They all shared a commonality: they were disconnected from the present moment, fixating on aspects beyond my control, linking past experiences to anxieties about the future. And in allowing these thoughts to dominate, I found myself disengaged from the richness of my present existence with every passing moment.
It wasn’t until I reached a pivotal moment in my life, preparing to embrace parenthood, that I forged a profound connection with my art. From that point on, there was no turning back. It marked the first time I created something with absolute intentionality, intertwining my current state of welcoming my first child into this world with my creative energy. Throughout the entire process, my focus remained solely on the feelings I desired to evoke and manifest in this physical existence.
I didn’t entertain any other thoughts or doubts. There were no unconscious patterns questioning what the outcome might be, how others would perceive it, or what improvements could be made. This painting unfolded organically, guided purely by my intuition and emotions. I didn’t document it with video footage, nor did I allow my mind to wander beyond the immersive experience of bringing those feelings to life on canvas. It was a magical transformation, unfolding right before my eyes, as I remained deeply attuned to the emotions within the painting.
I began sketching with unwavering focus, the outline of my intuitive painting emerging flawlessly without pause. The left side symbolized the conception of a girl, representing the essence of the Moon, depicted holding the umbilical cord connected to the Lunah Moth. Conversely, if we were to conceive a boy, he would bear a name with ties to Alchemy.
Remarkably, this painting was completed on October 10, 2018, just nine days before our child was conceived on October 19, 2018. The day following conception, a large and stunning caterpillar appeared on our doorstep. Hastily, I rescued it from the path of our dogs and gently placed it onto a leaf outdoors. In that poignant moment, a profound sense of certainty enveloped me—I knew, without a shadow of doubt, that I was carrying our little girl. It was an undeniable connection, a truth so deeply felt that no skepticism could shake it.
From that pivotal moment onward, I recognized that my art had undergone a profound transformation, marking my transition from Maiden to Motherhood.
What defines art? Isn’t it meant to be a manifestation of color and design that resonates with us on a personal level? Art can serve as an outlet, a means to articulate our innermost emotions, a reflection of a cherished memory, or simply something that brings joy to our daily lives. Your art is uniquely yours—it’s not crafted for judgment by others. When we impose expectations on our art, we inadvertently attempt to exert control over it, thereby diminishing its authenticity.
For years, I created art without infusing it with my true essence, resulting in creations lacking in authenticity and yielding little fulfillment. Contrastingly, the art I produce now takes mere minutes and appears as a chaotic blend of colors. Yet, this art serves as a pure expression of acceptance—embracing it exactly as it is, relinquishing control, acknowledging the messiness, and welcoming the emotions it evokes. Through this process, I’ve discovered hidden layers of myself, confronting aspects I hadn’t realized needed attention. Surrendering to and accepting that which cannot be controlled ultimately brings inner peace.
The lessons I gleaned from realism art stand in stark contrast to what I now experience with my abstract creations. Realism taught me the value of time and dedication—how proficiency grows with practice. I made a deliberate choice to master realistic drawing, fueled by an initial surge of enthusiasm and unwavering belief in my capabilities. I’m grateful for my longstanding practice of self-compassion; I’ve always treated myself with the same kindness I extend to others.
This mindset crystallized when I relocated from South Africa to Australia. It was a fresh start, an opportunity to break free from the harsh environment I had known. I resolved to shield myself from unnecessary suffering by adopting a compassionate outlook, refusing to let external judgments define my self-worth. As I embarked on my journey to master realism, I succeeded. Yet, somewhere along the way, the essence of my art began to fade. It became a means to please others—whether through commissioned work, teaching, or proving my value through technical prowess in realism.
My art didn’t reflect me. When I examined my creations, I couldn’t discern a common thread that bore my essence. You know how you can glance at a piece of artwork and instantly recognize the artist’s signature style? I longed for that, for a distinct style uniquely mine, but my attempts to force it proved futile.
Then, one day, it happened—a natural evolution occurred as I transitioned from the experience of maidenhood to that of motherhood.
Shortly after I transitioned from realism art to exploring spiritual art, our entire lifestyle underwent a profound shift. Before our daughter turned two, we made the bold decision to sell all our belongings and embrace a nomadic life in our caravan, journeying across Australia as we pleased. Five large boxes of art supplies were either sold or given away, and for a while, I believed that motherhood would be my full-time occupation indefinitely.
I kept only a small container of art supplies, and over the next two years, I sporadically created small pieces, stashing them away for months before revisiting them. Despite intending to homeschool our child, as I became increasingly immersed in the homeschooling community, I felt like I was losing more and more of myself. I came to the realization that my true love and passion lay in art, and I had been sacrificing that time for homeschooling instead.
It was a significant decision to let go of the homeschooling idea and find a school for our child that resonated with our beliefs. Surrendering to this change was challenging, but ultimately liberating, as it allowed me to fully immerse myself in the work that ignites my passion.
As our family environment and lifestyle have evolved, so too have we each undergone inner transformations to varying degrees. With change comes the need for adaptation. We’ve embraced a minimalist approach, recognizing that we don’t require much to thrive. My art supplies, limited to the drawers you see on the counter, symbolize this simplicity. It’s about utilizing what we have in the present moment, embracing its potential and inherent power.
If you’ve journeyed this far into my words, I extend my heartfelt gratitude. This marks the beginning of my blogging adventure, and I’m filled with excitement for what lies ahead. Currently, I’m immersed in crafting more blog posts, channeling my creativity into spiritual art, editing footage for YouTube, and weaving fictional narratives around each painting. Additionally, I’m delving into podcasting, where I’ll share these stories and explore how they intersect with our lives today.
As I traverse this path, I anticipate encountering kindred spirits with whom I’ll collaborate and forge profound connections. And to you, dear soul reader, I’m truly grateful that something led you here. Thank you for joining me on this journey.
With love and light I greet you dear reader.