Prayer Ritual

This short clip was filmed by Susan Patterson.  Susan approached me and asked if she could film me at work in my studio.  I thought it might be interesting to film the prayer ritual which I do at the beginning and end of my day.

I start by taking off my shoes I then light candles and incense sometimes white sage.  The studio smells lovely and the incense also helps to hide the smell of rabbit skin glue when it is at its most pungent.  The wafting smoke is also symbolic of my prayer rising to the heavens.  My prayer table faces south and the only window that gets any sunshine.  I give thanks for the suns warmth especially in winter but I am very fortunate that I also have great central heating!

I continue my ritual by facing south and praying to the Divine, then to the west, the north, the east and then back facing south.  Sometimes as I move around I visualize different things.  While attending a shamanic ceremony in the Amazon in Peru I watched the shaman pray towards the four directions at the beginning of the ceremony.  Afterwards he said it was to open up sacred space and pray for protection.  When he prayed facing south he visualised a snake a symbol of the connectedness of all life. West he visualised a panther, the great protector which consumes any negativity.  North the hummingbird, a gatekeeper to the heavens and a messenger between worlds.  East the eagle or condor who grants great vision and wisdom.  When I finish praying to the four corners of the earth I also given thanks for the earth and the heavens.  I see myself as a tall strong tree with deep roots and long branches reaching for the stars.

I have to confess though that what you see in the video is a tame version of what I usually do!  Perhaps when I feel more confident I will film this.  Normally I have music playing, something with a little rhythm.  My movement is more exaggerated sometimes more dance like and occasionally I sing.  I even incorporate some yoga poses.  I don't feel I can start my work in the studio until I have prayed and practiced my ritual.  I believe it grants me a focus for what my time in the studio is for which is to allow the creative spirit to flow.  It is a discipline that needs structures  and rituals of support.  At the end of my day I again go to my prayer table this time to close down my sacred space praying in reverse direction and giving thanks for a creative day while also asking that I continue the same work out in the world.

Blood Tree

Sitting on the bus traveling to the studio I read in the paper the sad story of the murder of Vittorio Arrigoni an Italian pacifist and peace activist he had been based in Gaza for three years working to promote the rights of Gazan fishermen.  You can read the article here.

There is video footage of Vittorio where he speaks of his love for the Palestinian people and his desire that they have freedom.  While some of what he says seems a little naive I couldn't  help but be moved by his sincerity, his passion and his openness.

I arrived at the studio with a painting in my mind and in my heart.  Initially I had pictured a peace tree in honor of all the peacemakers who work for the betterment of all humanity. What emerged instead was a tree that seemed to pulse with blood drawn up by its roots from the blood soaked earth, blood that coursed through the trees limbs and then dripped out from its branches back into the soil where the blood would be drawn up again continuing an ongoing cycle.

In the article Vittorio's mother Beretta is quoted as saying: "Vittorio always said: "Let us remain human, even in the most difficult moments". I would ask him "How can you stay human at certain times?" And he would answer: "Because, despite everything, there must always be humanity within us. We have to bring it to others". (The Guardian ¬†Pg. 17, Saturday 16th April 2011).

The Blood Tree is about sacrifice and suffering but it is also an expression of my belief that these things are not necessarily in vain. Such examples of meaningless violence including the murder last week of Israeli actor Juliano Mer-Khamis, who ran a theatre in the West Bank city of Jenin grant us obvious choices, to ignore or to remember.  To ignore is at the cost of our own humanity.  To remember is also costly and at times painful but to remember honors what Vittorio said we must do which is to bring our humanity to others.  By sharing our humanity we share ourselves at the deepest level, a state of being that not only reveals our interconnectedness, our blood ties, but also our rootedness to the earth to which we all belong and ultimately to the heavens which we yearn for and reach out to.

For the Love of Birds.

"Hope is the thing with feathers

That perches in the soul,

And sings the tune without the words,

And never stops at all"       

Emily Dickinson

I spent part of my childhood on a farm a few miles out from a little town called Taihape in the North Island of New Zealand.  I have a very clear memory of asking my stepfather if there were any Kiwis in the surrounding countryside.   There were none.   Kiwis are forest dwellers and the forest had been cleared a couple of generations before to make way for sheep and cattle.   The trees that dotted the landscape were mostly introduced species like the plum trees in the orchard where I would spend time climbing and hiding or the big Macrocarpa trees behind the dogs kennels where Magpies roosted and sometimes dive bombed.

I loved birds.  One of my first pets was a Australian cockatiel named Joey.    He lived in a cage but was often let out and eventually when we moved back to Taupo released into a large aviary in our garden.  Around this time I also had a pet magpie who as a young bedraggled sick looking bird wandered onto our property.  I nursed him back to health.  He flew around our neighborhood and would return when I whistled.  One day he just disappeared.    I like to think it was the call of the wild.

I started painting birds at an early age.  Seabirds, parrots and owls all appeared in my work and I was fascinated by the very rare New Zealand birds most people hadn’t seen or even heard about.  The Hioho, Piopio, Huia, Takahe, Hihi and others inspired me and saddened me at the same time.  Some having become extinct.  In Maori culture birds have an important role.  Its not surprising they feature so prominently as Aotearoa was originally a land of birds.  There were no land mammals except for bats.  Birds ruled.  This all changed with the arrival of man and rats, stoats and possums.

Gone but nor forgotten.

On the day my father died I went round to my grandmothers.  A few of us gathered to share our feelings and begin to discuss funeral plans.  As we talked a Pīwakawaka ( a small bird with a fan tail)  flew into the room and flitted around us twittering before darting out.  To some including my superstitious grandmother this was a bad omen.  For me I saw it as a beautiful sign, a sign of hope.

Birds feature in my art often as symbols of hope and as representations of dreams of  fluttering wings and haunting birdsong deep from within forgotten forests.    The story of God promising that ravens would bring food to Elijah is a reminder of something we often choose to forget.  We need birds.  They remind us of the beauty of the world and its mysteries.  Their flight is inspirational their song heart moving.    Without them we are lost.  The now extinct Huia is a case in point.  There is a story that says the Huia was the first bird to sing at the rising of the sun and once it had started singing all the other birds would join in with the dawn chorus filling the land with song.    Today the Huias song has been silenced along with much of the song of creation.   The remaining forests in New Zealand are virtually silent.   Thankfully the conservation movement in New Zealand is working hard to protect what is left.

Gone but not forgotten.

 “Elijah and the ravens”Oil pastel on paper1996.   

Dama-wyn

Dama-wyn (Cornish for Grandmother) was a commission for a friend. Mary was his grandmother who lived to over a 100 years of age. This icon was commissioned as a devotional piece in remembrance of her and the positive influence she was in his life.

In this icon we celebrate the sainthood of all believers. The way we live today and throughout our lives will be remembered by those we leave behind when our call comes for our own onward journey. The challenge for us still living and learning in this world is to live a life in the present.  Not one haunted by regrets and guilt of the past or by fear of the future but rather by a life inspired by the important things in this world.  Family, friends, neighbors, the wonder and beauty of the natural world, the diversity of mankind, the sun , the moon and the stars.

Dancing with Death

Dancing with Death is part of my Koru series.  It's title might appear dark and gruesome but it is not intended. Death is a fact of life.  We will all die someday. Life is about death.

I like the The Day of the Dead festival in Mexico as an example of a way to cope with death and loss. Bereaved families will gather around gravestones and will celebrate and have a picnic in memory of their beloveds. Shrines will be set up in family homes and the deceased‚ favourite food will be placed there.

In the U.K where I am a priest people will commemorate the dead on All Souls Day.  Candles will be lit and the names of the departed will be read out. It is a moving service.

Sometimes though I do wonder if we allow enough space and time for grieving?  One never gets over a death of a loved one but rather in time learns to live with their loss. In a busy world people can be expected to be back to normal after a death within a few weeks! Yet grief comes in waves spaced out sometimes over years.  Some days the tide is out and the bereaved feel they can breathe, all is calm. Then the tide comes in and it arrives with huge crashing waves that threaten to overwhelm. People think they are going to drown. Eventually the tide will go out again and the overwhelming feelings of loss will settle down for the time being.  It is here maybe that grieving people need a quiet bay to shelter in and rest and to find a creative way of expressing their loss without having to wait for a formal expression or date on the calender