Jan 25 2008
Falling Face Forward
I woke from a dream this morning which I felt was interesting enough to write in my journal before returning to sleep. A larger part of me wanted to crawl under the covers and forget all about it, but since the dream related to my creative process I thought it might help unveil some things about the difficulties I’m having with balancing my work and creative life. Before this dream, I was pretty sure my next blog entry would have to be titled “Why I’m not painting”. Here goes the dream:
I am walking through an exhibit of artworks, and come upon one which is my own. As soon as I stop to look at it, it makes an eerie sound… sort of a singing of bird chirps, followed by my own voice telling a story. It’s a painting, but the forms within it are moving, as in an animation. It begins as an abstract face, becoming more distinct as the story unfolds. The face is in profile (pointed to the right), but by the time the story drifts to the end, another face (less distinct) is forming out of the back of the head (pointing to the left). The picture and voice then loops back into its original sequence. Though it’s difficult to make out any resembling features, I know that the face is my own.
It is obvious that I am within a group show, and the other artists are present, mingling around the gallery space. In addition to our group show, we are all here to take a workshop based on our individual creative processes, and how to bring it further. Before we settled into the workshop, I remember seeing a woman carrying a sculpture in the shape of a cat. I realize that it is actually a portrayal of a mummified Bast, (the Egyptian cat icon who is goddess of the underworld). As soon as I realize that it is an urn, I can see that some grey sparkling dust is on its surface. I ask the woman if she has dumped the ashes, and she says yes, that she has just returned from the river.
Now the group commences into a circle, and most of us are sitting on the floor. Someone begins to speak about their creative process. It seems to be more about psychological process than the physical process… describing the unfolding meaning behind the work. Before the first person has finished more than a few sentences, a group of people have stumbled into our space. They are here to see the art exhibit. Someone is telling them that they will have to come back after we’ve finished our workshop, but then we see that a whole crowd of people are outside of the window, following them. We decide to end the workshop and the group disperses.
The next thing I know, I am walking down a road, but it is such a steep decline that I am no longer walking, but falling (as if down a long chute, though there are no walls). I am floating down past some of the other members of the group and am about to fall past a man who engages me to tell him about my process. Just as I am about to describe something about my work, I realize we are about to hit bottom. At this point I am falling face first and need to re-orient myself. Just as I’m about to hit the pavement, I swoop back up… dipping underneath a car that nearly hits me. The only other thing I can recall now is looking at another one of my paintings. This one is an abstracted image of a figure who is falling face first, and though the body is distorted, I know it is me.
2 responses so far
Robin, wow! There is a lot in this dream! The only thing that comes to my simplistic mind right away is about falling… Isnt that symbolic of not having control OR feeling out of control?
Some art is obviously filled with the artist’s personal symbolism, like a secret language that I know is there, but I cant decipher it. And the work leaves me blank.
However with your work the symbolism definately evokes feelings, a response. Your imagery resonates on a deeper almost subconscious level – like music does, but the meaning is somewhat elusive, kinda like seeing thro a fog. It’s soft and *dreamy*.
Your dream is much like your art to me. I know there is a profound message there, I can feel it. But it is beyond me. It is really thot provoking and interesting. I appreciate you sharing it. Thanks!
One time I asked about your imagery in your work, but we got interrupted – I think I would like to continue that discussion sometime….
Thanks so much for your response, Janet.
I have to admit that there may be an element of “lack of control” in my life right now. Surprisingly, though… there was no aspect of FEAR in the falling. It was more like gliding vertically (and slightly diagonally, not a complete DROP). It was more like I was walking down a road at one moment, then effortlessly gliding down a steep decline… and then the landscape fell away. As I analyzed it later, I wondered if the descent was itself symbolic of moving into my inner space, the feeling of loss of time and space that comes with the depth of creative experience. Feeling distracted and disturbed by someone asking me to comment on this process, it suddenly made me aware of the ground below me… which I was suddenly about to crash into. Fortunately we rarely do meet our demise in dreams as a superhuman power allows us to be propelled out of a bloody tragedy (I’m not prone to nightmares, anyhow).
The one symbol of death within the dream (the cat-urn) was itself symbolic of revival for me. The fact that the ashes were sparkling gave it a magical life, and the idea that the ashes had already been returned to the river spoke to me about the eternal cycle of life to death to life. Perhaps the fact that an urn was being carried into a workshop about creative process speaks also to the fact that I am currently feeling a death (or at least stagnation) in my creativity, and reminding me that there is a cycle to it as much as there is to the process of life itself.
I guess that’s why I felt like sharing this dream with a wider public. As soon as I woke from it, I knew it had to mean something… it seemed so vivid and urgent. It was certainly trying to get my attention. I couldn’t sleep until I gave it its deserved attention.
After writing down the dream, I realized that the chirping of my painting was actually calling my attention to it also (that is, I probably didn’t notice the painting at all until it called me), and I think that is the purpose of the dream in general… to make me take note of what I’m not looking at. The one thing that gets my creativity in a stuck mode is fear. There’s a fear of the unknown, fear of failing, fear that whatever I produce won’t sell…. or perhaps that it will reveal something dark (or simply misunderstood).
Another thing I have been asked to consider is the difference between the energy of the workshop consciousness vs. the “hoard” consciousness. The participants of the workshop are individuals who are sharing their personal process within a group consciousness. There is an attitude of mutual respect and “holding space” for the other. I recall that part of me is wriggling in my seat, wanting to say “did you see MY painting? It moves! It talks! Isn’t it phenomenal??”… and then I gently hold my consciousness to listening because I know I have something to learn from others (perhaps especially from the woman who has already taken the ashes to the river). The crowd of gallery-goers, on the other hand… Well, come in all at once and demand to see the show, without respecting the fact that we are in the middle of a workshop. They are all about the surface, shuffling from one painting to another, and never fully absorbing anything at all. And part of this is ME… Part of me is urging myself to skip the process entirely and just get a D#@! show together. Perhaps the self portrait with 2 indistinct faces also speaks to this inner schizophrenia. I want depth and meaning in my work, naturally. I also simply want to see myself produce, and to sell my work. I want hordes of people to enjoy it, but first I need to dive head first into my depths, or it will lack any meaning to me or anyone else.
How’s that for self-analysis?
Thanks for giving me the opportunity to reflect! I really wanted to carry this further.