Artistic Retreat

As a child art making was my solace, a refuge from the physical pain of numerous leg surgeries and from the emotional pain of being short statured and looking differently than my peers.

My hopes at that time were to grow up to be a "real" artist.

Unfortunately, as young adult my desire to paint and create froze in the face of my perceived reality.

I was afraid that art making would not pay the bills and I believed I had to be perfect at my earliest attempts.

Instead of becoming a painter, I went into the field of graphic design. During this period I felt lost, had little passion for my work and felt fatigued most of the time. Inspired by the film, Thelma & Louise, I headed for the Southwest. The wild spaciousness of the Southwestern landscape burned in my psyche and I risked leaping into the unknown by moving there. It was while I was living outside of Santa Fe that I realized if I didn't at least explore painting I would deeply regret it at the end of my life. I painted images from my dreams and images inspired by poetry, yet something was missing. It was as if I was walking on a frozen river, sensing a wild aliveness beneath the cold surface of my experience. I longed to be swept up and absorbed by this force yet could not break through the ice and surrender to it.

After moving back to the San Francisco Bay Area in 1995, at the insistence of a friend, I took a Painting Experience workshop with Stewart Cubley, co-author of Life, Paint & Passion, Reclaiming the Magic of Spontaneous Expression. On the first morning of a weekend workshop Stewart asked - what are the questions you are asking yourself? Mine was; what is wildness and where does it dwell? I had just read the book, "Abstract Wild" by Jack Turner and was struck by his definition of wildness/wilderness: "The restoration of wilderness is a fad that, for many reasons, I do not believe will work. But we can restore our relation to wildness, for 'wild' names a quality of a relationship, one in which we are not in control." Up until that point all my attempts at painting had been very conceptual, controlled and not wild at all!

Holding the question of "what is wildness?," I stepped up to the blank page. I had wanted to paint a fox, but that felt like an idea rather than an impulse. My impulse was to paint a big spiral - which I did, and then painted another and then another. The feeling of painting in this way was like being carried along by a river - it taking me places rather than me directing it. What a surprise I felt as dots, squiggles and color filled the paper. At the end of the day I felt very high. Sitting in the circle, I felt as if I had never seen people before. Everything looked so new. I closed my eyes and saw a human shape and saw the same thing upon waking the next morning. So I started the second day of painting with this form. I was also feeling disappointed that now my paper was completely covered and I hadn't painted a fox. But when the last dot was painted on the last person - I saw it, a huge fox leaping over everything. I was so surprised and painted it all the while feeling daring and electric. Suddenly, the painting didn't feel full or finished at all! I had so much space even though the entire paper surface had paint on it. I had an inkling to paint a face, a fox face. I painted one and then a hundred.

This painting was alive, its own wild entity. The less I controlled and the deeper I listened the more it would reveal itself to me. I didn't feel separate from my experience or from my life - I felt wild and alive. I realized that Wildness dwells in the honest meeting of the moment. Wildness dwells in the heart of creation. I continue to paint, to courageously explore the wilderness and mystery of my existence. Painting is a spiritual practice for me, with no agenda other than to be present with what is and to honor the images that want to arise. Through this practice I feel more alive, more present, more fluid and engaged in life than I ever imagined possible. The joy and feelings of solidarity with myself that I felt while drawing as a child have returned and I find myself fascinated at the places painting is taking me. Painting leads me into my own darkness, the places where I am stuck and demands I say yes to all that is inside of me. I have applied what I have learned in the painting process to my graphic design work and my relationships: to relinquish my demands for an immediate resolution, to stay present and connected with my feelings and to explore unexpected ideas. Now my work and life are filled with vitality. My creations are more dynamic and I am liberated from my self-imposed burden of having to do it perfectly.

By Annie Danberg

- 10 - Edition 14, August 2003