The art featured above is part of a meme to inspire exploration and participation. As per this meme, I'm featuring selections from the galleries of the first ten people who responded. The features are being presented in a five part series. This is from Part I of V. The full article can be found here ---> [link]



To be a genuine artist, it is necessary to think outside of deviantART. This site is so massive that it creates the illussion that it IS the art scene, but there are in truth many thriving art scenes beyond its reaches.

On Saturday April 25, I was honored to attend Whatcom Symphony Orchestra's simply breathtaking presentation of Gustav Mahler's Symphony No. 2 in D Minor, more commonly known as "The Resurrection". It was performed correctly with a complete symphony orchestra (111 musicians strong), the combined voices of two choirs for requisite power (98 singers strong), and a soprano soloist and a contralto soloist, which together makes 211 people gathered on stage at once (not including the three conductors) to lend their talent to the performance of a single piece of music. It was the largest production the historic Mount Baker Theater had presented to date. The result was rivetting! I was overwhelmed by the tremendous power of the music and the story it told.

Last night, I attended a very different performance that served me as a perfect counterpoint to Mahler's magnificent opus. Last night, I had the honor of attending the latest in an ongoing series of events that comprise The Flow Project. (I'll write more on The Flow Project later.) Pianist and composer Michael Jones was invited to Bellingham to perform a few of his original compositions at the historic Whatcom Museum. Rothko inspired modern art on giant canvasses adorned the walls of the small concert hall under the clock tower. Jones' music is at once impressionistic and intimate. Like Mahler, he creates soundscapes, or musical landscapes, rich tone poems that are meant to tell stories or inspire stories in the minds of the listeners. They both paint with sound, creating rich textures that follow meandering threads with variable tempos and dynamics. After last week's massive (imposing) presence upon a stage, it was comforting and refreshing to simply share a room with a single artist painting music upon a grand piano. He took time between pieces to speak to us and share his experiences as an artist with us and inspire us to explore our own artistic paths. Most vivid in my mind is a piece called Rain, which easily conjures mental images of a rainstorm bringing refreshment and relief to the land before slowly petering out into a few delicate sprinkles and isolated droplets. I closed my eyes and imagined dancers from the Martha Graham school taking inspiration from the squall to leap and twirl and bow and exalt in connection with nature through art. I heard colors in Jones' sonic painting that beg to reside upon paper or canvas; I'm hoping that my fingers can dance to the rhythm of rain with oil pastels as eloquently as Jones' sparkling music. It was magical to leave the museum and step into the rain, as though the musical energy had conjured the rain to complete the transformative experience: the thought of rain became the musical impression of rain became the actualization of rain upon the streets. Divine magic born of art.

I have entered a period of my life that I think of as a personal renaissance. Reawakening to the power of art and intelect is also a resurrection of sorts. Last week I observed a relatively traditional expression of the glorious ascension of a living God. It was an experience that invites a soul to be in relationship with the divine. Last night I experienced the resurrection of my own soul via a creative connection with the divine presence within nature. Spring itself is a sort of annual renaissance with bright flowers resurrecting the lives of seemingly dead branches. Last Friday I celebrated Beltane with old friends and new friends. We held colorful ribbons and danced around a may pole. We sang songs in praise of spring and I stood in awe as my new roommate juggled flaming torches while jumping a flaming rope. I passed a critical threshold in my recovery from pyrophobia when Amiel handed me a flaming torch, I tossed it, watched it spin, and attempted to catch it again. I want to live. I want to express my love for life. I want to write. I want to draw. I want to paint. I want to sing. I want to dance. I want to live. I want to ascend. I want to wake to greater possibilities and evoke the divine presence within myself, so that I may have an intimate relationship with The Universe. I want to express. I want to share. The English language itself presents too many limitations. Art is central. Art is the key. Art is necessary. Art is the universal language of the divine.

And so I come home to deviantART after a short exploration of the arts beyond its digital parameters. However, I will continue to think beyond deviantART in order to continue to grow as an artist. Hopefully, this means that I will finally begin to produce art again. My dream is to become a prolific artist, even if I never become a masterful one. I encourage all of you to think outside of deviantART, too. When was the last time you visited a local art gallery? When was the last time you seriously took a moment to appreciate a sculpture in your city? When was the last time you attended a concert that embraces fine art? When was the last time you visited a museum, or a library, or a cafe where people read poetry aloud? When was the last time you utilized art to connect to something greater than yourself in the real world? Have you had any recent experiences you wish to share?

Love and Peace and Spring Forever,
Silvermare

P.S. This is not the last week of my subscription to deviantART. I have a self-renewing subscription. It will continue to renew itself until I tell it to stop. It will renew itself until "hell freezes over" if I want it to.



It has been too long since I was last active in most of the clubs I've joined in the past. Hence, I'm starting my list anew. I am only listing the clubs in which I have actually participated in recent memory.