Carceri – a painting she did blindfolded during meditation
Lia Chavez describes her artistic process as "probing visions of the radiant cosmos within to remind us that our relationship to the world – both outside and within – is shaped by dynamics of time, space, and light." She spends most of her time meditating and connecting her inner mind with the outside world and then trying to replicate the images she saw through colors and shapes in painting, photographs, and performances. She even once sat inside a closet with a light sensitive paper and prayed that the paper would be developed.
Inspired by the way Lia Chavez draws on deep meditation to find her creative spark, I chose to be in silence and solitude on the fenced grass area behind the prayer chapel. Because the prayer chapel is a sweet sanctuary for me, I did not want to disturb the sacredness of that place but rather make it even more special by quietly occupying the spacious area behind where no one really walks through or sits on.
Each day for five days I entered the grass area with my notebook, pen, black marker, yellow marker, and my heart's yearning for unexpected surprises and rest. Each day, I opened up my sketchbook to an empty page and prayed in solitude for fifteen to twenty minutes in whatever position I was taking that day and then took fifteen to twenty minutes to sketch what I was sketching that day. Then, I went back into the prayer chapel and sat in front of the piano and wrote a poem as I observed the drawing I made. The whole time, I was silent, not speaking to anyone (I would just smile when friends or strangers talked to me).
On the first day, I came in at 4:00pm and sat on the grass with my eyes open. It took a while to quiet my heart and brush away my wandering thoughts. I asked the Holy Spirit to fill the empty pages of my opened sketchbook. Though I felt silly, the feeling of wholeness enveloped me. I observed the light and shadows dancing and was caught in the coexistence of warm golden beams and shades of darkness. The nature around me came alive— or rather, I became more aware of its shapes, lines, and hues. Then being able to try to mark this fleeting moment onto paper with three different layers of pen/ marker and with words from the heart was comforting.
On the second day, I came in at 2:00pm and lay on my back on the grass with my eyes open. This position was the most relaxing and soothing. The movement of the tree branches, leaves, birds, insects, breeze all around me mesmerized me and made me also more attentive to my own body's unending motions internal and external though I lay still.
On the third day, I came in at noon and stood on the grass with my eyes closed. I listened intently. The leaves rustled, the birds argued, the breeze in whispers ran through my hair and on my skin. My other senses were awakened, and I had to tune into just hearing noises and letting them seep into my inward being. Depicting noise on paper was more abstract yet tapped into my own fluttering myriad of emotions.
On the fourth day, I came in at 10:00am and walked, ran, rolled around with my closed. I used my hands, feet, arms, and legs to feel the natural grass and soil beneath me and the crafted wooden fence on the edges. There were more textures, lines, and angles in this rectangular space than I had realized. It was chaotic and free, and this awakened nervous excitement in me.
On the fifth day, I came in at 8:00am and lay on my belly with my face down on the grass with my eyes closed. I smelled the grass and the air. The dew soaked my clothes and skin, and I felt one with the earth beneath me. It was the most vulnerable position out of all five days, for I was trying to tap into a sense that I often don't think or care about and I also was in a position of surrender and unavoidable intimacy with nature. The fragrances rose upward into sky and lungs. It was hardest to draw out the moving yet constant essence of scent all around me.
By the end of the five days, I can say that this place became both familiar and foreign to me. I thought I would have more assurance and confidence that I would feel more connection to myself, nature, and God, yet I found more mystery and wonder throughout the whole process. My body, mind, and soul were all part of each day's creative process. The earth spoke to me more than I could ever speak in reply. I became more aware of my insignificance and incapability to recreate the senses, thoughts, emotions I felt and the fickle, strong existence of nature enveloping me. I hope to continue to use meditation in solitude and seeking the Lord's guidance before, during, and after my artistic processes in the future.
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