You know that sense of stillness that seems to fall just before the first crack of thunder? It is full of tension, anticipation – I’d even say agitation. It is a precursor for a phenomena of nature that is sometimes paralleled in our soul.
The uncertainty of when, how loud and how close the thunder bolt will “fall”. The unpredictability of the next clap, breaking the intermittent (relative) quietness. Will it rain or will it not?
Recording the thunder storm earlier this week here in the Scottish Borders, I had a tangible experience of these stages and their synchronicity with the emotions we can encounter in the face of life’s uncertainties. Something all too familiar to us in the last 18 months.
However frightening, or invigorating, thunder may be, it will pass over. And if the rain does begin to fall, after the initial downpour, there can be a return to a feeling of inner quietude, with a faint, but lingering echo of the storm that has gone before!
Recently in Studio Hundy I have been painting a series linked to the Iroquois myth “Naming the Winds”.
At the beginning of time, Ga-oh the giant called forth 4 animals, each kept on a tight leash, to rule over the Four winds. A strong fierce Panther was summoned for the wild West wind - the maker of storms - splitting the clouds, tearing them to shreds, and snarling deep warnings over the dark sky.
We yearn for the light in winter and as advent advances, I find myself more and more enjoying not only the warmth of the fire, but also the heart-warming orange glow of the embers.
My partner Clare and myself shared our recent creative processes at a small Open Studio event in August this year. Plays were performed, words were literally woven, stories were threaded together and Studio Hundy opened its doors exhibiting a series of 4 artworks, “memory fragments” created out of paper.
