Amongst one of the trends running on Facebook at the moment is a 5-day creative challenge to post one artwork per day whilst nominating someone else in the process. I was caught up in the challenge, nominated by an artist friend on fb, David Henley. It was a lovely challenge and had me sifting through my photographic archive to come up with some ideas. I decided to go with a different theme each day, posting several images to illustrate each one, such as a selection of posters I had produced using an iPhone app. Another was a series of digital artworks along the lines of ‘one step at a time’ using digitally altered photographs of footprints. There were lots of drawings too. (You can see them if you visit my fb page here, and scroll down a bit to find them).
Most of the drawings I do are based on things I see. However, there is a set of drawings I included in the challenge that were not done from direct observation (the ones that I have attached to this post), but were all drawn using my left hand and come from a very different place. A place which inhabits my inner world. A world which is unpredictable and often surprising. (click on them to enlarge the image)
These drawings are from 2013 and before a horse was part of my life once more. But revisiting these drawings again for the challenge, it strikes me that they have a poignant relevance for me now, at this very moment in my story and at the risk of repeating myself, the reason I have decided to post them again on this blog.
The spirit of Horse (or its Gaelic name, Each), calls us to journey, either in the physical world or into inner realms. As a solar animal, the horse brings us grace, power and speed and helps us connect with the powerful energies and life-cycles of the land (think carved white horses) and the sun or sun god. In the Druid year, the horse goddess opens the gateway for the soul to enter the world at Beltane, in May (think Padstow ‘obby Horse) – and the ‘birth’ of my own pilgrimage. We shall be completing our journey in the autumn, the dying end of the year, at Samhain, thus symbolising the completion of the cycle of birth and death, the mission accomplished.
Last week I saw a Raven perched on a railing under a thick hedge of bamboo taking shelter from the heavy rain. There is something rather prehensile about these beautiful black birds. It is like they have been around for ages in evolutionary terms. Their intelligence is legendary. She looked so calm and unruffled even when we approached to take a closer look and Tammie was straining on the end of a lead, until we could not have been more than 3 feet away from her. Crouching down and looking directly into her eyes, I experienced a real moment of connection before withdrawing so as not to alarm her. Far from being the harbinger of doom, I viewed this sighting with positive intent. When looking into possible meanings, I discovered that in Greek mythology, the Raven (or any member of the corvids family) is a messenger of the Sun Gods, and is also associated with both Apollo and Athena. The twin energy lines of Apolla and Athena also runs through St. Michael’s Mount and crosses with the Mary and Michael energy lines at the ‘node’ point on the Mount. Yet another (if slightly oblique) connection to the ‘light’ of St. Michael.
Another memorable meeting was when I was driving home recently and a young vixen crossed the path in front of me and ran into a field of daffodils. When I drew level with the opening to the field, she had stopped and turned around to face me. Such a beautiful creature. We stared at each other for a moment before she turned and slunk away along the furrow that ran down beside the hedge and was soon out of sight. I’m not altogether sure what this particular sighting meant for me but because the fox is usually most active at dawn and at dusk, I have interpreted it to mean the purveyor of transformation. Maybe I need to pay more attention to my dream world, or even – like the fox – be more cunning, perhaps? Maybe, even to do more drawings like these?