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Suffering for my art….

My Collaborative Practice Module is proving to be tricky. I was brave and I followed through on the vow that I made myself through the summer break: to speak my truth at all times, to suspend my high personal privacy setting and to be a braver me…..so I reached out to a Perth UHI student to collaborate with as per the requirements of the module and suggested that we, using our own art practice, explore a relationship with a family member or a friend that has influenced us. She chose her brother.

Where is the suffering? Well, I have an older brother. He is almost 14 years older. He is loyal, steadfast, funny, loving, strong willed, obstinate, sensitive and generally wonderful. My little brother was actually my nephew but closer in age to me with only 18 months between us and born the youngest child to my older sister….keeping up?

Well my little brother was my ally. He was the person I climbed trees with, got into trouble with, wrestled with, played hide and seek with…..protected. He died at age 32. I buried his ashes under 32 Oak trees and on each of the 13 years since he left me, I have collected a leaf from one of his Oaks to have him close. But I don’t talk of him. I have not picked up any of his many poems until today….

This collaboration is pushing me to explore not only my art but my own hidden self. I always endeavour to find the joy and light in my work even in the darkest of moments, and in order to truly connect with others I feel that I have to come from a place of integrity.

Happiness is a choice and I am so tired of feeling sad. So, I shall tackle this sculpture with love and hope and I shall site it somewhere where others that comes across it will stop for a moment and absorb the healing power of their surroundings and maybe ask themselves what the meaning is behind sculptural piece. So with wood and words I will create something that will help me to turn a page and begin my own healing with joy.

4 Comments »

  1. I find that creativity, in whatever form it takes, can open up those little boxes inside us where we store (hide?) our most painful thoughts and memories. The thing is not to force them open. At the right time, they will open on their own accord without needing to be forced. Let it flow, Lar, it seems the time is right. A Gaelic singer recently told me that there are no sad songs in Gaelic, just songs that let the sadness out. Wise words indeed. x

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