Two years ago I finished a series of Wyoming scenes made over two painting seasons. I learned a lot from making those big canvases with so many mountains, but eventually I felt pulled to move on to a new theme.
I waited for inspiration but instead started to question the validity of my work, a climate made worse by two false starts in late 2019, when I couldn’t finish either painting for lack of connection to their topic.
I decided instead to use my limited studio time to try something artistically different: to make a film with my husband about our 2019 hike in Wyoming. I had observed how he had made his two other films and had coached him on writing the narration for them, so I wasn’t starting from scratch.
During the nine months of putting the film together, I learned many of the technical skills needed, and was very pleased with the end result (By the Waters of the Winds on YouTube), but I found that the process did not stimulate my creative juices in the way that making paintings did, and I missed that.
Then came Covid, which did little to bolster an artist full of self doubt. By January, I recognized that I was becoming increasingly judgmental and ungenerous, to others as well as to myself. It was if I were detaching from the world and shrinking as a result of all the isolation.
Around this time I listened to an interview with the photographer Cig Harvey, whose enthusiasm for color and beauty coated me with an optimism as vivid as her photos. The interview brought such a lightness that I listened to it twice. Her conviction that gratitude and positivity can “foster conversation, help a person find the tools for living, and even have the power to repair and mend“ struck a deep chord in me.
“If you work from intuition,“ she said, “your world expands, and if you don’t, your world and your work grow smaller.“
I knew this to be true and I knew that I wanted to return to creating canvases led by intuition as I had done years earlier.
Creating the first painting after such a long break was like rehydrating a dry sponge. With each brush stroke, I grew softer and more pliant, and by the end of the process I felt as bright as a stand of garden phlox, lifted and greened by a soaking rain.
I’ve now completed six paintings, which I’ll share in the coming months, starting with the first painting I made this past January.
Traveler, There is No Road
The pandemic had reduced my world down to one relationship that allowed touching. I was about to welcome my first grandchild into my life—and to a world weighed down with questions, many of which made me anxious or sad. I needed to grow my heart—to feel braver—so I sorted through quotes and images in my studio and was drawn to a poem which became the title of the piece, and a photograph my daughter took of me as I lead our family through a dense jungle on a wild-goose-chase hike on a trip we once made. We had been waiting for good weather for the hike, but it never came, so on our last full day, I said, “Let’s just go for it.“ Being brave means moving forward through uncertain times and events even if you’re scared or don’t know the way.
Audrey
Wonderful (as ever) Maureen!
Maureen Egan
Thank you, Audrey! I’ve been enjoying your watercolors this spring.
xxoo
Clare Delmar
Or, as the late Susan Jeffers used as her mantra, “feel the fear and do it anyway”.
Lovely stuff Maureen 💙
Maureen Egan
Perfectly put. Thanks for reading and responding.
Ellen
Your discussion about intuitive creativity interests me. I accept the phrase “juices flowing” without knowing what it really looks or feels like to each individual artist. It’s always nice to hear your particular choice of words, just as it’s always nice to see your particular choice of image and color. It’s exactly what art is about with us hoomans.
I would love to hear more of your reflections on how the pandemic influenced your creativity. I’m currently feeling anxious about reopening my shrunken world. This tells me I’m not done reflecting on the ways my inner self dealt with COVID. And once again, the art of my fellow homosapiens will evoke a better understanding of our collective and individual journeys.
Maureen Egan
I, too, am experiencing anxiety as I rejoin the world. My social skills have regressed and I have become more introverted. But I will take my time and with time, I hope it will grow easier. I’m grateful that spring is here. Working in the earth is grounding and full of metaphors for regeneration and growth. Be well, dear one.
Kris Rainey
Excellent work Maureen!
Maureen Egan
Thank you for reading and responding, Kris! I’m looking forward to seeing you at the Rainey Reunion!
Take good care ’till then.
Joanie
Thank you, Maureen, for sharing your journey so openly and beautifully. The images you paint with your words are rich and personal – I’m grateful to you for allowing me to journey with you as I read.
This painting…wow. I love how lush and dense the green is. The perfect setting for you to place yourself in. xo
MAUREEN E EGAN
Thank you, Joanie. I’m grateful for your kind words!
Franziska Hart
This is my favorite painting. Within it, for the first time in my memory, you appear to set aside the powerful voice of landscape and its hold on you.
Instead, there you are, doing all the showing and speaking of gratitude and positivity!
Franziska Hart
I’m glad to hear this, and interested in your observation, Franziska. Thanks for responding.
Will
Huh, thanks for the memory poke. I remember the story about the jungle hike from an edition of the Chronicles. Pretty good for someone of a certain age. Loved the painting.
Maureen Egan
I’m impressed! Glad you remembered that story!
Laura
Thank you for sharing your vulnerability as an artist and as a thoughtful, caring human being. This line really spoke to me: “I knew that I wanted to return to creating canvases led by intuition…” Following intuition is difficult for me as a writer, too–to block out the noise and wait. But you did it, and then–voila!–Traveler, There Is No Road.
Maureen Egan
Thanks, Laura. Being vulnerable is being authentic. I put thoughts and images out in the public stream in hopes that people will be nourished by them.
Liz
Awesome. I love it. It looks like stained glass and you look just like you! xoxo