Alright, so folks have been asking me a bit about how I mix shamanism, or what I understand of it, with my art. It’s not like I woke up one day and decided, "Today, I’m a shaman artist!" It was more of a slow burn, a path I kinda stumbled onto and kept walking.
How It All Started Kicking Off
For me, it began with a real deep need to connect with something more. I was doing my usual art thing, painting, sculpting a bit, but something felt… well, a bit hollow. I’d finish a piece, and it’d be technically okay, I guess, but the soul wasn’t quite there. I started reading a lot, all sorts of stuff, and then I bumped into some writings about shamanic practices. Not the super dogmatic stuff, but the core ideas – journeying, connecting with spirit, nature, that kind of thing.
So, my first step was just trying to quiet my mind. Sounds simple, right? It was anything but. I’d sit there, trying to meditate, and my brain would be like a marketplace on a busy day. But I kept at it. Little by little, I’d get these flashes, not full-blown visions like in the movies, but more like strong feelings, colors, or sometimes just a sense of a presence.
Getting My Hands Dirty: The Process
Once I started feeling even a tiny bit of that connection, I thought, "Okay, how do I bring this into my art?" This is where the real work, the practice, began.
- Setting the Space: First off, I found I needed to prepare my little studio corner. Nothing fancy. Sometimes I light some sage or palo santo – just to clear the air, you know? Make it feel a bit more sacred, less like just another room. Sometimes I put on some drumming music, real low, or even just nature sounds.
- The "Drop-In": Then, I’d try to consciously “drop in.” I’d sit, breathe deeply, and try to let go of the day’s junk. I’d focus on an intention, like, "What wants to be expressed today?" or sometimes I’d think about a specific animal spirit or a natural element I felt drawn to.
- Letting it Flow (or Not): This is the messy part. I’d grab my paints, or clay, or whatever felt right, and just start. No plan. That was the hardest bit for me, to let go of controlling the outcome. Some days, it felt like the colors were choosing themselves, like my hand was just a tool. The images that came out… sometimes they were abstract, sometimes more figurative, but they always felt different from my "planned" art.
- The Frustration: And let me tell you, there were days, plenty of them, where it was just a muddy mess. I’d get frustrated, feel like a fraud. "What am I even doing?" I’d think. But then I realized that even those "failed" attempts were part of it. It was about the process, not just the pretty picture at the end.
An Example: The "Wolf Dream" Piece
I remember this one time, I’d been feeling a strong connection to wolf energy. I did my usual prep, sat for a bit, and really focused on that feeling. When I started painting, it was all blues and greys, very dark. And then this shape started to emerge, not quite a literal wolf, but the essence of it – its wildness, its eyes. I didn’t force it. I just kept layering, following the feeling. The finished piece isn’t something I could have ever planned. It felt like it came through me, not from me, if that makes sense. That was a big moment for me.
What I’ve Learned (So Far)
So, what’s the takeaway from all this fumbling around? For me, it’s been about learning to listen. Not just with my ears, but with my whole being. Art became less about showing off technical skill and more about a conversation, a way to translate those deeper, often wordless, experiences.
It’s not about becoming some mystical guru. It’s about finding a more authentic way to create. I found that when I tried to connect with that shamanic-like state, even in my fumbling way, the art that came out had a different kind of power. It felt more alive. It wasn’t always "good" in the conventional sense, but it was always honest.
I also learned that consistency is key. Just like any practice, you gotta show up. Some days are magic, others are a slog. But you keep showing up. And slowly, that connection, that ability to tap into something deeper, it grows. It’s still growing for me. I’m still just figuring things out, one messy painting or lopsided sculpture at a time. But it’s a journey I’m glad I’m on.
