The Garden of Eden

The studio is a place of history and can feel heavy with memory some days. Before, when I was a new mum, and still full of hope and fire, I would fill the studio up with things, objects, art supplies, half finished work. I was a whirlwind… sure that I was on my way. Having kids was a motivation for me; I might only have a few minutes here and there to myself and for my work but I would really enjoy that time and I made a lot of work. I began to paint abstracts and I shared them on instagram (which was new back then). Now the studio is quiet, and also very loud. It doesn’t push me as much as I used to push myself. There is a spirit here. It feels friendly, it wants me back. It wants me to fill it with art again in the way I used to. It wants me to forget about the world because being good enough to be marketable is probably not going to happen. Yes, this is what my wounded ego has said over and over. You aren’t really good enough. You don’t finish your work. You are too scared to make friends or participate in anything. Yes, ego my dear one, you are right and yet here I am. My studio spirit sheds a tear, crosses its slippered feet and lies back in the arm chair. I am here. I say… at least I came. That must mean I still believe in all of this. Some days, just to come here and sit is all the heaviness will allow. I find that if I can make it through to the other side of this feeling I might actually do a drawing or take something off the shelf… a dusty book maybe… and I’ll see something in it that reminds of why or what has meaning for me. I believe that this slowness is important… I used to charge in here and make a big mess now, I wait for the spark to come to me… more slowly, quietly, calmly.

The Hungry Lion Throws Itself on the Antelope (1905) Henri Rousseau

I’m dreaming about what really gives me joy and one thing is the archetype of the secret garden. A closed away, peaceful, beautiful garden. I go to my imaginary secret garden in my mind when I feel like it. I looked up ‘garden of eden’ to see if any images would speak to me and I found Henri Rousseau. It’s been a while since I looked at his work. I remember discovering him and finding him enchanting as a personality and a painter. He seems like an innocent child, full of delight. His work reminds me of the Canadian Artist Maud Lewis. I feel such warmth towards these artists, I love to see their desire to make things and how this comes across in their work over and over again.

Marthe Armitage

Clues float by