aged 7-59 years
The POETICS of reflection….
I was seven years old when I first started to listen to Leonard Cohen on long playing records (1967). We lived in Calgary, Alberta, Canada at the time. Before that we had lived in Aukland New Zealand and originally we had been in London and Devon in England. There’d been a lot of moving in my short life. Not much was stable except for the make shift dens I’d create under neath our latest dinning room table. There was always a sheet to through over the table, where I could cosy up and close myself down from the overwhelm of the new surroundings.
The other constant was Leonard’s voice. I’d play his tracks over and over again to hear his poetry. Continuously lifting the needle off and on the black vinyl to try to catch the words and then write them down. A very slow process for someone so young who was especially slow and ill equipped at that stage in life. I was behind at school. I had attended six schools in three continents by that time and was somewhat disrupted in my educational development. Navigating my way through the never ending emotional chaos and continually changing geographies had been my main priority, much more important than learning the three Rs.I loved his words. I could feel them. They touched me deeply and made a lot of sense to me – even to my young and inexperienced self. They made a kind of sense that I’d not yet found else where in my short life. They resonated and I held on to them when all around was forever shifting.
I’m not sure whether my mother was disturbed by the continuous scratchings of record player needle on black plastic as I lifted and replaced it in a precarious and possibly damaging way, or whether she pitied me for my frustratingly devoted efforts but either way she came to my (or the record’s!) rescue. Maybe she simply wanted to help me out with my task and connect with me in the process… What ever her reasons were, she’d sometimes engage in the mission with me painstakingly listening to a line, noting it down in her secretaries flip pad in short hand and then later transcribing those curls and dots and lines into long hand words for me.
I loved that she did this for me because I needed a way to keep his words and energy close to me so it could grow it inside of me.
I loved his poetry then and I love it now.
Today a friend posted some of his words on her facebook page:
‘I greet you from the other side of sorrow and despair
with a love so vast and shattered it will reach you everywhere…‘ Leonard Cohen
The words resonated with me. They were timely – so very timely.
Deeply moved – at the age of 59 I was once again transported back into the depths of Leonard Cohen. It was a sort of home coming. An absolute delight.
Category Archives: Uncategorized
Lately (as is often the case) my thoughts have been around love, intimacy and communion and how these things might impact our creativity.
I find myself asking questions such as ‘Is love essential in supporting an art practice? Under what circumstances (if any) might love hinder the work of an artist?’ Of course the term ‘love’ covers many meanings so for simplicity’s sake I will say here that I am simply talking about all matters of the individual and collective heart.
Over the last two years, whilst I have experienced a rapid deepening of my connection to my creative source, I’ve also been simultaneously and repeatedly disrupted from my urge to create from this place, or indeed create art at all. So is there a place (I wonder) where we feel so connected to ‘source’ that manifestation is no longer necessary, needed or required? Is art therefore about working things out or is it about expressing something from a place of knowing? Are we (when we are connecting so deeply to the source of all things) simply absorbing the new depths of communion because we suspect that time is limited? Like being with a lover and allowing all else in love to fall away because somewhere there is a fear that this too will end? And is it then that we turn to the act of making art once the connection to source or lover, softens, fades and begins to seemingly fall away? Is creativity our route to reconnect and find once more, a sense of intimacy and communion?
Inevitably these ponderings led me to ask more questions such as ‘where does a creative impulse (to create art) actually come from? And what determines whether or not we follow it?’
As both an artist and an artists mentor I often encounter the difficulties we have around sharing our work with the world. I think these difficulties are closely related to the same sort of hesitation, resistance and fear that most of us (whether artists or not) have around being ourselves and expressing ourselves in the world. The reasons one might feel hesitant about putting one’s art (or one’s self) ‘out there’ are undoubtedly numerous and complex and that’s certainly a subject for a separate post but my thesis here is that love holds the key to everything: to our flow, to our fear, to our ambiguity and to our freedom of expression.
So where do we actually express ourselves from?
The complexities of the psyche, especially from a psycho-spiritual perspective, suggest we have countless layers and levels from which to express ourselves.
When we are coming from our highest self and are able to get out of the way of ourselves we are in free flow and all is well but when we are coming from our less functional parts, the parts we might consider to be ‘disturbed’, ‘troubled’ or simply ‘wounded’, (and we all have them) or when we are tired, overwhelmed or in pain, we are much more likely to be reactive and thats when things get confused and distorted . From here we are more likely to react rather than respond. What’s more, even if we believe we are ‘on to ourselves’ about this, our reactive parts will know how to cleverly and subtly ‘rule the roost’ even if we think we are being very careful!
Worse still, these lesser developed (but most likely very old) parts of our psyche (that have been with us for decades and have well established roots and routes!) are very likely to reside in or choose to travel in our most prominently developed neural pathways; the motorways which are the easiest to access and to travel along. Because those roads are so open and well known to us we tend to go on these with our automatic pilot on. These are our default places, our familiar places, our habitual pathways.
Our position of receiving creative impulses inevitably fluctuates and changes according to our personal circumstances and the level we are responding from. (personal circumstances meaning environmental, professional, spiritual, psychological etc etc) With this in mind, we as artists therefore need to keep a keen check on where we are coming from when we create and put our work out in the world.
Whilst it’s sometimes good to be impulsive and spontaneous and trust that all is well, it’s also important that we think carefully about our intentions and consider our impact upon others.
Whilst we might present ourselves to the world as being truly functional, successful and professional at some level, at another level, we are also inevitably going to be flawed, confused and fumbling. Apparently functioning well in some aspects of our lives, we are often simultaneously dealing with some difficult ‘stuff’. Age and experience helps us deal with these things but sometimes we’ll be overwhelmed, We are, after all, human.
For me, at times like this, simply getting out of bed and showered and dressed is something I humbly celebrate with much gratitude.
Last year, due to an injury, I was housebound, isolated and alone for the best part of eight months. During that time I had lots of opportunity to reflect on what I do in the world as an artist and why. With little mobility, and a lot of pain all of my energy went on basic self care which included a lot of rest. Making art was very low on my list. During those eight months I was particularly vulnerable and my physical injury had occurred on the back of a difficult bereavement. I was altogether lost and from those circumstances came an extraordinary finding: an unexpected and deeply significant heart opening. Altogether it was a rollercoaster ride.
Life has a lot of ups and downs and twists and turns. Some people encounter more hills and rocky terrains than others. It is often said that ‘we only get what we can manage to cope with’ and I think that may be true, but maybe it’s more a case of the degree to which we are willing to open to what is being presented.
Artists will often open themselves up to feel and experience life in ways that others may not choose to.
In my experience an artist might sometimes be likened to a shaman. She encounters undiscovered terrain in service of her tribe, and the greater community and she will guide others to places they might otherwise never dared to venture. Sometimes this task can be too much for an individual and might leave the artist drained, distressed, even ill. Maybe it’ll be then that they’ll turn to their creative work to hold them but that’s not always possible if someone has gone too far over the edge. Whilst this might be important work for others I have come to realise that it’s not always in our best interests to give everything of ourselves to the work. If we don’t look after ourselves we wont have any ability to give to others.
Thankfully, when we pressed against the wall so to speak, our basical survival usually kicks in and is (at least for a short time) most likely to become our main focus. It is this which will save us and lead us to recovery in the short term but it is really love that is needed here. Self love.
It’s therefore incredibly important to watch ourselves carefully when we create, express and tell our stories. It’s important in terms of taking responsibility for our actions and also in terms of taking responsibly for ourselves. We need to be mindful of where our creativity is stemming from, and, when we put it out in the world we really do need to take full responsibility for our impact. (on one’s self and upon others)
What we say and do, the energy we expel, the marks we make, and the impressions we leave – it’s always going to be our choice as to how much we choose to tell the audience. So we need to consider how much do we say and how much do we leave unsaid, leave ambiguous and open to interpretation and how much do we reveal? The impact we have on others will come back and impact upon us.
It could be said that perhaps we need to take more time to be sure of ourselves before we dive in to dangerously exposed situations, get naked, fall deep into unexpected depths and come up spluttering for air but conversely, with too much ‘care before action’, and consideration before expression where does that leave our creativity, our spontaneity, and our passion?
As a creativity coach, workshop leader and artists mentor I see, time and time again how people compromise themselves in their art practice and their lives rather than take too much of a risk to reveal themselves. I’ve done it myself too of course. It’s an on going challenge. Rather than risking stepping completely out of my safe comfort zone, I’ve stayed safe in the known, the least challenging and the familiar. How do we find flexibility, middle ground – love (self love, universal love and love from others). It is love that will lead us there.
I know several artists who have one art practice which is completely private, and one which they are willing to share with their audience and the world. I did that myself for many years. This was a great short term solution to the dilemma around what to share and what not to share (share this side of the practice and keep this side of the practice as a vehicle to inform the ‘main’ practice but keep it as research and development not the ‘real’ work. Over the years I got to care less about what others thought and more about satisfying myself and at some point I decided time was running our and what has I got to lose so I decided to take a risk and reveal a bit and a bit more and a bit more.
As I began to connect to source more, love myself more I felt more able to take risks. Its an organic process and required a great deal of personal inner work but as the clock continues ticking and the years go by the task became a bit easier.
Choice of genre makes a difference In writing I have generally revealed much more of my self than in my painting for example. But is also much more scary as nothing is left to the imagination. Writing by it’s very nature is more explicit, more graphic. No surprise then that when on residencies with writers I am told time an time again that they consider themselves to be the most neurotic creators of all the art forms.
Sometimes (probably often) we put something down in writing, first of all it fits at the time and then over time it changes, our perspective, opinion and feeling changes. For example there was a time when I would have said I’ve given my life to be in service through my art, but I’ve come to realise that in many ways that’s simply not true. (no longer true) Firstly my life is to my family. I am a devoted mother, stepmother, mother-in-love (soon to be mother-in-law) and a grandmother. These relationships matter more to me than anything. It is after them that I am committed to my work as an artist and artist’s mentor. So what I thought and believed before has evolved over time and after circumstances have changed and with age and wisdom I have learnt new things and different values and priorities. In writing this makes things tricky – or can do. In a conversation less so and in art, ambiguity supports change.
So I think maybe writers might actually be more confident and self assured than they say they are. But regardless of the genre I express myself in I believe it’s my job to get out of the way of myself and simply let the work flow, not judge it, just put it out and trust that it’ll be what it needs to be. Trust it’ll find its own way to where it needs to go and those who need it will attract it to them.
I don’t consider myself to be a skilled at always managing that. I can get nervous and insecure about exposing myself just like the next person. And I don’t consider myself to be a writer by any stretch of the imagination and I am a certainly unskilled when it comes to knowing when to restrain myself from my raw ramblings. I don’t always know when or how to hold off from my outpourings, and make safe sketches instead – something more palatable, accessible. Or when to keep things to myself. I’m learning on the job.
I have reservations and concerns about what I have written in the past and many a time I have wanted to withdraw and erase what I have previously publicly revealed. My intention in writing RAW for example, was to reveal from behind the scenes, areas of my art practice that were previously kept to myself. It was an experiment to see how close to the edge I could go and I am still not sure about the wisdom of such personal and unsophisticated revelation.
As it turned out, whether they liked it or not, and some did like it and some didn’t, a very large number of people were interested in the contents of my ‘raw’ unpolished flow – my raw ramblings. Does a large audience response mean it was the right thing to do to put it out there?
As artists we put stuff out there and the work does what it does in the world mostly without us ever knowing what that is. What that impact is. From the inside it can seem as if it’s fallen flat on the ground and no one has even seen it. We rarely get to know what it’s doing, who it’s impacting. Sometimes we get a chance of a conversation with someone about how it impacted them. It’s a treasure to have a chance of a proper conversation. When there is a significant audience response I guess we have to listen to that…
So what’s love got to do with it? For me, love has everything to do with it. Love is the rudder, the guide and the reason. Love will hold us when all else seems to be falling away.
When I’m trying to put something into the world as an offering, I need to stay in that place of service from the outset: from conception through the execution, delivery and beyond. Love holds me in this place of ‘service’. I need to remember that love and when it comes to wanting to withdraw, remove, erase and disappear I need to strengthen my connection to that love more than ever. Buddhists call that Mette – loving kindness.
Artists who reveal the unspeakable in service of others hold the line of love regardless of impact. Wei Wei’s passionate and brave political stand, which I believe was born out of a deep love, got him jailed and left his audiences fearing his death. Tracy Emin’s raw illustration of her own personal life experiences, involving the darkest sides of sex, alcohol, degradation and addiction brought serious debate around what is art and what is therapy but her devotion to her love (of art) won through.
We’re all middlingly thought in our own unique ways and there is no road map as we are all so different but what is the same for all of us is that we are all here for such a brief moment….. so let’s be sure we consciously consider our imprint and let’s take responsibly for every mark we make. Let’s do everything we can from a place of pure love…
About Veronique Maria:
Veronique Maria is passionate about creativity and enabling authentic self expression in everyone, in service of the greater whole.
Veronique has worked in the arts for over forty years. She makes her own art work (which is mostly painting and video right now), she sees clients 1-2-1 for creativity coaching and artists mentoring, and she delivers workshops to groups in West Sussex UK in her home in Arundel and at West Dean College, near Chichester.
Veronique’s interest in love and relationships led her to write about how ‘Love Transforms’ in ‘Psychosynthesis theory and practice’ published in 2013. She is currently writing a creativity workbook and a book about the creative process as a spiritual/devotional practice.
She exhibits and sells her art work internationally, and has work in publications and collections worldwide.
She has a BA (hons) in Art and Design (Wood, Metals, Ceramics and Plastics, Brighton University), an MA in Psychosynthesis Psychology (Applied to Fine Art Practice Middlesex University), a professional training in psychotherapy (Institute of Psychosynthesis, London) and she is also a Leadership Graduate. (CTI – The Coaches Training Institute (USA). She has been a practicing Buddhist since 1991 and is currently working towards ordination in the Triratna Buddhist tradition.
Veronique Maria is passionate about the importance of authentic self expression and believes creative integrity transforms health for individuals, societies and potentially, the world.
Her dream is to create a place where artists and non artists can go for intensive, ‘hot house’ mentoring in order to explore their truest unbridled self expression in the context of being in service to others.
For further information about all areas of Veronique’s work – http://www.veroniquemaria.co.uk
For workshop bookings and coaching/mentoring enquiries – email: email@example.com
Sharing the process behinds the scenes…
On a day to day, and moment to moment basis, I live what it means to be ‘me’, Veronique Maria, a gay woman, artist, devoted mother and grandmother, Buddhist and lover of life. I do this simply because that is ‘me’.
But as I get older and turn towards becoming sixty, and face my own mortality in a new way, I find myself taking yet another serious look at my art practice and asking ‘Is it enough to simply live my experience of myself in this way? Is it ok for me to live all of that and then translate and transform my life experience into ‘showable’ and ‘presentable’ art work?’
‘Is that really ok with me?
‘Am I doing enough in the world? Am I making enough difference, simply by being connected fully to my passion and purpose and sharing that with others through my art?’
What else needs to be said and done?
I find it important to ask myself is ‘Are the things I am trading my life for, worthy of my life?’ ‘Am I fully aligned and making the work I was born to do?’
Interestingly, a similar sort of seriously intense re-evalation of my art practice happened as I approached aged 50 and 40 too, but of course I am always re-evaluating my art practice each and every day too. I always evaluate my work and my life in an attempt to keep fully on track.
Life is so very precious, a treasure to be taken very seriously in my opinion, but something is different about this questioning I am doing right now. Something is moving and something is shifting in a new way. I don’t completely understand it yet, maybe I never will, but what I do know is that I feel excited, (and I have to admit, extremely nervous too) about what I am about to share with you.
The thing is, I am about to make move further into the RAW.
I know I could just wait another decade to make this move, or never bother to do it at all, and to be honest it would be relatively easy to avoid the situation completely, but that’s why I therefore want to, and need to, declare this to you now – that from now on, intend to share much more of myself with you…. to be much more raw.
Ok, so that may not seem like a particularity big statement right now, but hang on in there with me and I will explain.
There has always been loads of creative work that I do which supports my art practice – the sort of creative expression that I would call ‘the work behind the scenes’. Much of this I never show publicly. I use this kind of work as a starting point, and to inform my ‘other’ more polished and showable work that I let go out into the world. But why do I do this? Why wouldn’t I show you everything? Why wouldn’t I?!
The work I have traditionally kept more to myself has often tended to be live art, performance for camera, most written work (poetry, and mixed genre writing for example) and experimenting with materials and sound, but it can also be drawing, painting and sculpture that are processes I never show you. So why, (up until now) haven’t I shared and shown that work? What would it be like to be completely exposed and vulnerable with you?
It seems that (for the most part) I’ve been ok with keeping my ‘naked’ sort of work to myself.
My creative work that I put out into the world has always been incredibly personal. From the time I wrote my first poems about love, passion and grief inspired by my feelings for my girlfriend when we were at boarding school when we were aged 14-16.
I have always been expressing myself in this personal way but maybe her homophobic plea to me, to keep our love a secret, and my loyalty to her held me back at first. I was loyal to her wish to never be named but after a while I realised my loyalty to her meant disloyalty to myself. It’s a difficult line to tread but I always kept her privacy.
And then later down the line maybe I had some kind of mindset around ‘the artist’s job’ being to make work that talks to the ‘collective’, to the ‘people’, and that to be so revealing of that which is deeply intimate and personal would be taking away from the ‘other’.
There are other reasons for my ambiguity and abstraction too. I have been holding back so as not to impact others. Not to hurt or expose the people that I love.
But now things have to change just a little. I find I have to re-examine my feelings about all that now. I believe that by sharing ‘me’ I offer a gift to you. How can I share me without sharing them?
I know some people think what I already reveal through my art is extremely passionate, brave and expressive, and they admire what I am willing to share of my personal life in the way that I do, but it’s simply not enough for me anymore.
I’ve been concealing the depth of my truth by skirting around the surface and now want to reveal much more of the personal me, in my raw, overt and undeniable state.
I want to stop censoring, judging, controlling and deciding. Of course I will still do those things as my output and productivity is enormous, so there will have to be some sort of editing and choice going on, but I want to make sure I make, reveal and share ‘a raw expression of an intimate connection’ with you. The raw expression of my intimate connection with my self, with my creativity, with my life and with my love.
I have a wonderful new PA who arrived in my office yesterday. In the process of familiarising her with an over view of my 40+ years of creative output as an artist, I realised that I want to come out and show my work in this raw and overt way in the direct and explicit context of love.
Yes, there will still be finished consumable products in my practice, it’s not all about the raw, but the other side of my practice, or maybe I should call it the centre, or praxis, that which is the core of me….that is what needs to come now.
So I’ve been thinking about how to reveal myself more…..
A public talk, a book, extracts from my journals….
NB After further consideration some highly personal journal extracts have been removed from this post. It’s a fine line…….
Veronique Maria is passionate about creativity and enabling authentic self expression.
Veronique has worked in the arts since 1970’s. She makes her own art work (painting, performance, video, writing) and sees clients 1-2-1 for creativity coaching and artists mentoring.
She is currently researching the value of art to individuals and societies, exploring the processes of creating and perceiving art as being devotional practices which, with commitment, offer potentiality of becoming spiritual praxes.
She exhibits and sells internationally, and has work in publications and collections worldwide.
She has a BA (hons) in Art and Design, an MA in Psychosynthesis Psychology, a professional training in psychotherapy, and is a Leadership Graduate with CTI – The Coaches Training Institute (USA).
Veronique is passionate about the importance of authentic self expression and believes creative integrity transforms health for individuals and societies.
Her dream is to create a residential retreat centre where everyone (artists and non artists alike) can go for ‘gently intensive hot house’ mentoring to explore their inner artist, and their truest most unbridled self expression in the context of being in service to others.
Love Transforms by Veronique Maria ‘Essays on the Theory and Practice of a Psychospiritual Psychology – Volume 2’
When someone asks me how, with all my history, I’ve became so solid, articulate and comfortable in my own skin, I’m baffled. Then I tell them it was Psychosynthesis; eighteen years of weekly psychotherapy, eight years of a professional training and several years writing papers, poems and pros describing my experiences.
It’s difficult to put my finger on it exactly ‘what Psychosynthesis is to me’. Psychosynthesis helped me grow from a shy, inarticulate girl, into a strong, self-assured woman.
I tell people Psychosynthesis helped me build a house inside of myself.
*** *** ***
In 2013 I was awarded a three month Artist’s Residency by the Wurlitzer Foundation USA. They provided me with an old adobe casita on seventeen acres of woodland in New Mexico and invited me to ‘do my creative thing’. Thousands of miles from home, family and friends, and with no car, phone or internet, I found myself ‘listening’ to myself, others and the environment with new, and expanded levels of heightened awareness.
I’d originally intended to use my time in Taos to write a film script and work on video. It soon became clear this residency was about exploring who I am when there’s no project and my layers are peeled right back. 8,000 feet up a sacred mountain, with limited oxygen, I felt permanently high. Stripped bear, each moment had a quality of prayer.
In ‘normal’ life back home in England I’d been striving to surrender to the unknown but fear often held me back. Trust seemed easier in Taos. Soon after arriving, I purchased four beautifully illustrated story books, one of which was Thomas Blue Eagle’s Ledger Book. These were the first gifts I’d ever dared buy for my much hoped for grandchild. Not willing to give up on that dream, I returned to my casita and wrote this poem.
Thomas Blue Eagle’s Ledger Book
b o o k s
for you today.
four precious symbols
of my desire to dream you
I’ve been dreaming of you for years,
and I think of you almost everyday now
I wonder when you will come to me
I want to make you blankets and shawls and tiny booties
I want to gather you up in my arms – tell you mama will always love you
I want to sew with you, dance with you and lay down and stroke you
I want you to have everything a child should have
and be protected from all that children shouldn’t have to bear
I wonder when you will come to me
I am dreaming you darling,
and daydreaming you
A month later, when my son announced the conception of his daughter, I was in heaven, awe and wonder. I celebrated with gratitude and rituals.
Many of my experiences in New Mexico were monumental. Never knowing what’s coming next, I wrote this:
Blessed Art Thou….
Dawn, New Mexico 2014
Wild dogs searching for truth came sniffing in my casita.
Hairy mongrels with wet noses and wagging tails.
I tried to catch them as they danced around the house.
Jumping up onto my bed many times and then hiding in dark corners.
They had twinkles in their eyes and sometimes their tales swept the floor.
“I’ll be fifty five at the end of this month.”
“I trained extensively as an artist, a psychotherapist, and an applied psychosynthesis practitioner. For what? Pivoting between fifty and sixty I’m out on a high wire. Not a comfortable place.”
“What would be comfortable?”
“When I reflect back over my life, I remember how I thought it was going to be, especially in my mid teens, when I had a really strong sense of who I was and where I was going. It didn’t turn out quite as I thought it would. I often wonder what I could have done differently.”
“mmmm comfortable? I suppose that would be when I am really settled and everything seems right. Actually I get that feeling quite a lot. I’m not talking about that sort of ‘comfortable’ though, I’m talking about being comfortable about being mortal – a deep sense of comfort.
Maybe the comfort I’m talking about is born out of being on track, aligned with ones life purpose, at peace with life and death and able to hold one’s self steady in any situation.
I remember feeling fully in my body when I was fifteen. That feeling of vibrancy, determination, strength and vitality; a sense nothing could stop me from having life. I was focused and in love. If I had died in that moment I imagine I might have felt whole and complete.
I remember prancing across Hampstead Heath enjoying nature and my body as if they were one.
I was wearing my grandpa’s bola hat with a peacock feather in it. My sixties blouse stitched from beautiful soft green material, hung loosely over my young skin. Black tailored trousers sat comfortably secure around my waist. Everything was exactly as it should be. The present moment was divine. The future planned, clear and tangible. My memory of that moment returns to me often. My sense of it is so strong.”
Dusk, Sussex Hospital 1989
With my face pushed up against gloss painted plasterwork on the ceiling, I watched my body thirty feet below me, in the hospital bed. Everyone looked small. Medics busied themselves around ‘me’ down there whilst I occupied myself with ceiling textures. I was calm and strangely, detached from critical activities below. Seemingly suspended in space, neither occupying my body nor the ether, the building’s architecture seemed to be acting as some kind of a boundary for me.
Occasionally I wondered whether I might be able to slip through the ceiling but I seemed to be hesitating or resisting that next move. I wasn’t afraid, I just didn’t know what I would be going into.
Then, suddenly I seemed to make a clear choice and returned to my body. The nurse greeted me warmly. I could see relief and delight in her face. ‘Hello. Welcome back. I thought for a moment we had lost you.”
Apparently I had been trying to sit up in the bed when I suddenly felt dizzy, and couldn’t breathe. (I remembered that that had happening just before I went to the ceiling.) ‘Your skin colour turned grey and you started to disappear. We called the crash team. We thought you were going.’
“I’d been planning to go to art college since I was about ten. I believed whole heartedly, the life I dreamt of would materialise after school. My love would come with me. I knew every inch of her body just as well as I knew my own. I knew the way she breathed, and the way we breathed together, the way her chest rose when I touched her and how to stroke her to make her shudder. I loved the way her chest bones sat proud and how down covered her jaw. I knew how her blonde locks would fall over her face when we laid together. I understood things she couldn’t talk about, and I knew that I loved her. Her vibration was divine. Nothing could change my devotion to her and us, nothing that is, except for her.”
Taos Mountain 2014
I went out looking for you today,
and found you in the Indian land briefly.
My heart opened wide
It felt unexpected and ancient.
In the gentle silence
and the vast open space,
my heart became like lungs,
Eagles wings spread out within my chest
and I could breathe,
Or at least that is how it felt in that moment.
I found you today in the open plains,
in the mountain and in the sky.
It was as if you came to me
showed me all I need to know
You came to me today
and then briefly
like lovers in a moment of communion, we were one.
Tate Modern, London 2049
Millennium Bridge, Thames London.
Small family group walk from St Paul’s Cathedral to Tate Modern.
They look up at neon lights on building.
Group approaches gallery doors
Whispering voices ‘blessed art thou’.
Sounds build up, layered into chants.
Noise of Turbines mingle with chants -‘Blessed Art thou’.
Artist looks outside window up towards moon
Turns head downwards.
Cold pavement level -woman, curled up alone, keeps from freezing.
Strawberry Tree, Sussex UK 2008
Garden studio: large timber log cabin.
Natural light streaming in.
Artist VM aged 40 making performance art.
Sweeping pulverised Paw Paw fruit across timber floor boards.
Orange flesh/black seeds mingle with yellow fruit skin.
Some pulp caught in grooves of painted pine floor.
VM sweeps pulp into a pile using long handled broom.
Friend drumming gently – sits in corner of room.
Video camera in corner on tripod records events.
Moon light – Surrey Hills, 2004
come to me
b e e n
w a i t i n g
d r e a m i n g
longing for you
the ache of desire – the wanting
for years – possibly lifetimes
heavy with anticipation
ancient searching – praying for your touch
tonight the moon knows, hanging large, heavy, low
I can see you – feel you – delight in you
full with warm pink peach
you are in my being
with painful longing
in every moment that I dare reach out for you
you are my fire and I burn for you
there is no lover like this………………..but this one
eternal internal universal
dark night skies, deep oceans,
r i c h v e l v e t
b l a c k
m a t u r e
r a w
“I hadn’t expected that in letting her hold my heart in her hands I had somehow given her the power to change my vision. I am broken hearted. Everything around me is crashing and changing.”
“Same as your first love. Can you feel the reverberations?”
“Yes. Love keeps re-forming itself. The revised form still revolves around creativity and art, (which is a relief!) but it’s complex and often effected by lovers.”
“Death terrifies me. I tell myself it’s okay but when it comes close, I’m terrified. Flying in an aeroplane, having an anaesthetic, surgery, that kind of thing. Then the cancer scare of course! I never felt so afraid and alone.
Plus I can’t bear to break attachments either. It’s always the horizontal pull which affects my relationship with death I suppose.
Out of body experiences remind me there’s no death only transformation to another form, but when push comes to shove it’s so hard to remember that. I seem so unable to surrender a lot of the time. My body is tense, braced for disasters which are probably unlikely to ever happen.
When I’m skiing, and I’m on top of a mountain looking down at the sheer drop below, sometimes I freeze up. Standing there considering what to do, the more I think about it the more I resist movement. I imagine terrible things happening: accident, injury, pain, death. I think, if I just stay here (stuck!) I’ll be safe. So I stay a little longer till I realise I am only just ‘alive’ here, not fully living.
I don’t exactly know what happens to make the shift, but somehow I find something within myself and I’m able to let go of the fear, surrender to the unknown, lean my body forwards down into the sheer drop in front of me and allow the rest of my body to follow.
As I’m falling towards the void I say to myself, ’keep going, keep leaning forwards, keep surrendering’. It’s empowering. I feel held by something far greater than me, a universal power, a higher self, who knows?
When I feel stuck in my life I try to remember skiing processes to manage fear.”
“I keep thinking of the words ‘Blessed Art thou’. What makes anyone blessed? My mother told me she doesn’t like me, has no desire to see me, apparently I am the only person in the world she cannot get along with. How can anyone feel ‘blessed’ when their own mother says that?
“Geoff phoned asking me to visit as soon as possible. ’Amanda would really like to see you’. I knew she was ill. She’d been ill almost twelve years. We’d spent more days talking about her health than I cared to remember. I always thought she’d pull through. I hadn’t quite clocked the urgency. I went straight away though.
Geoff had gone to collect Laura their daughter, from the airport. She’d been sent away to Italy for a trip. She’d hardly arrived there when they called her back home urgently. Amanda was deteriorating rapidly. No one had expected it to be this fast. Had we all been in colluding in hope?
I went upstairs to the single bedroom she’d moved to when she knew she’d be having visitors and nursing support. She’d painted it pale aqua and hung images of angels all around her. She was like a bag of bones. I’d just seen her on Sunday. She’d asked me to pop in with lettuces. She’d come to the door, vibrant and appreciative as ever. If I had known then that her time was ticking away so fast I would have accepted her offer to come in but I had no idea. I believed she was fighting this thing and my new lover was about to leave for India the next day so I had made her my priority, as we had needed time to say our goodbyes.
I went upstairs. Amanda’s brother was downstairs with a couple of friends. I sat very close to Amanda’s bedside and held her hand. She said, “I keep slipping away, coming and going, I don’t know where I am.” She seemed confused and troubled. I didn’t know what to say. Is this what happens when we leave here go to the other side? Do we travel back and forth until we’re ready to let go?
I wanted to ask her what it was like there, on the other side, but it didn’t seem appropriate. I was shocked at her appearance and concerned for her distress. Urgency was all around. I was sitting at death’s door with my dearest friend.
Originally my art college tutor, Amanda had inspired and encouraged me with incredible passion. Being of similar age and both with children, we soon became good friends. “You’re here with me now. Try not to worry.” I said. It seemed stupid though. I felt as if I was on a train about to leave the station and in a moment I would have to jump off and let Amanda do the rest of the journey on her own. I was unprepared. I didn’t know how to be.
We held hands as she settled a bit, “Yes I’m here now” she said, slightly relieved, but after that she kept slipping away before the end of her sentences.“Its as if I’m falling backwards falling away.”
And then she grasped hold of my hand as if she wanted to say something really important. She was using all of her energy to collect herself together.
She said, “I love your work, I really love it, I think it’s amazing.” Then she slipped away completely. Those were her last words to me.
Cathedral, West Sussex 2000
VM lying belly down on flagstone floor – centre of the cathedral isle.
Arms out. Legs slightly apart. Appears frozen.
Hands flat on floor above her head.
In front of VM – Traditional light wood coffin raised on trestle stand.
Flowers draped over closed coffin lid.
Fresh white lilies, ferns, fall over casket sides.
Side chapel – woman praying.
Head bowed over hands.
Rosary beads woven through fingers.
Chanting “blessed art thou and blessed is the fruit of thy womb”
VM pushes her face deeper into stone.
The more places I go, the more things I do,
The more people I meet, the more I miss you.
Grief is a peculiar thing.
The thread between us remains even when everything else seems to have peeled away.
In fact without all the clutter I am much more aware of it.
In the end,
when all the stuff of life is gone,
When all the complications and confusions have melted and the fibres are dry,
We will stand apart like tall stringed instruments
Golden threads revealed, stretching across the universe
River Thames near St Paul’s Cathedral.
Family Group prepare to walk over Millennium bridge.
Elderly woman VM(90s) to granddaughter (34):
“I wanted so much to make a difference. I devoted my life to art. Do you think that anything has changed? Do you think we understand the importance and value of self and collective expression any better now? Do you think we are more in touch with the moment, the materials, the making? Have we repositioned art and artist into the centre of our society and value system?”
“I don’t know grandma. What I do know is that you have had and do have a massive impact on the people who see your work and hear you speak about art. You touch them deeply. I have seen it for myself time and time again. People cry, get down on their knees, get exhilarated and animated, you bring on all sorts of significant and valuable responses grandma. Lets go see the show right now and do the press thing. I am so excited for you.”
Son (70s) holds elderly woman’s hand tenderly. Helps her into wheel chair.
“Darling you are the best and most important thing I ever created in my entire life. We made you from pure love you know.” She touches his face and smiles deeply. He receives her touch and grins lovingly.
Pregnant grand daughter (28) carefully tucks shawl around grandmas legs, checks feet on foot rests. Gently pushes chair across bridge to Tate.
Gallery Entrance – assistant introduces group to awaiting guests. Group walks into gallery.
“Welcome everyone, to ‘Blessed Art…’ Thank you for coming along to the Tate today. We are so pleased you are here and hope you will enjoy the tour. I am delighted to see so many faces. To those who don’t already know me I am Isabella Cairns, exhibitions director here at the Tate Modern and directing curator for this exhibition.
I’m really very excited to show you this exhibition – a major retrospective spanning 1974 and 2049 by Veronique Maria. We will take you through the exhibition shortly. Ms Maria will give personal insights into some of the ideas, processes and intensions behind her work.
The show is deliberately not laid out chronologically. The intention is for you to experience the exhibition as a whole life’s work and to see and sense the work of one woman’s intimate life rather than a linear developmental process.
We will mention significant mentors and inspiration as we go alone. If you have questions please feel free to ask at any point.
Autumn 2002 – Therapy
“When people have blessed me in life, especially those whom I respect and admire, I have felt like a brand new sail boat being launched from it’s slipway with expensive champagne.
I’ve felt incredibly affirmed and been much more able to move forwards with confidence and power as a consequence of these blessings. ”
“who has affirmed you in this way?”
“Many; my grandparents are the obvious ones, the constant ones. My mother encouraged my creativity when I was young when she let me paint of my bedroom wall, and then later it was people in the Psychosynthesis training and artists I respect. Awards, prizes and being patronised is affirming too of course, and friends, audiences, and lovers are very significant as well. Most of those affirmations seem to be related to my authenticity, creativity and courage as an artist though. Is that what you meant?”
“and what about your first love, your first lover?”
“Well she has always admired me on some level and rejected me on another of course. She mirrors my familiar experience. Constantly affirming grandparents and persistently rejecting mother rolled into one. It’s complicated to live with such extreme poles – externalised and then internalised.
You always bring her back into the conversation. Do you think there is something unresolved there for me? You always challenge me to look inside the dark dusty corners that I might otherwise prefer to ignore!”
Male surgeon cuts woman’s naked belly horizontally.
Passes scalpel to theatre sister.
His hands enter deep inside wound.
Beside operating table sits cheap plastic bucket.
Inside bucket – Womb lies in blood.
Surgeon drops second (unknown) organ into bucket.
Blood splashes up bucket sides.
Drops spill on handle.
Organ hits womb, falls in beside it – slips in comfortably.
New camera shot – questionable object in bucket – Foetus?
Other end of room:
Woman with wild flower bouquet slowly places individual stalks carefully into another bucket.
Takes time positioning/arranging flowers/foliage.
Another corner of operating theatre
VM pours remains of Paw Paw fruit (brushed from studio floor)into third bucket.
Paw Paw slips into bucket.
VM repeats “blessed art thou, blessed is the fruit of thy womb….”
“How was it for you to be with your first lover again this weekend?”
“She is gorgeous. I love her deeply and am inspired at how our love has transformed.”
Winter – Many moments over several decades – merging. (1958 – 2049)
Layers of images – bodies, life, death, collecting things in buckets, gathering, sweeping.
Drum keeps playing
Same scenes are being projected as video installation onto massive wall Tate gallery.
Press/journalist and others audience members observe.
“Why is she more prominent than other loves?
Does she lead you back to my mother? As my first love? In an ideal world?”
Lush English Garden.
Overgrown, semi tropical.
VM making prayer beads whispering ‘blessed art thou’
Tiny clay balls, moulded in her fingers, fall into a metal pot – ‘tink’.
“She is not my original love… my art is my all time lover. She is constant and transforms all other loves into new forms. She saves me, holds me, never gives up on me…
I am able to take more risks in life because I have this lover who holds, enables and guides me.”
Secluded, slightly over grown Sussex garden.
Warm sunny day.
VM (50) wearing loosely fitting clothing.
Thin cotton sun dress falls around her shoulders.
She has bare feet and is nearly naked.
Dry grass runs through her toes
Her finger tips tickle seeds pods and flowers as she passes.
The air is still.
A grass snake slithers through a patch of damp earth between compost heap and pond.
She walks inside the house and becomes much older… (99)
Light modern house full of texture, colour, care
Eclectic mix of mid century and faded style
VM sits down at table strew with love poems/photographs
VM takes an old A4 email from forty six years earlier
Puts on glasses
“I need to go slowly. I am afraid. You seem too good to be true. M x ”
“lean in to me and trust sweetheart, all we can do is trust and keep communicating. V xxx”
Sits close beside VM
slips loving hands around VM
leans over and kisses VM’s neck
VM turns to M and says “We learnt to ride over the ocean darling, we have been very blessed.
M “Yes my darling we have been very blessed.”
VM takes M’s face in her hands and says “Blessed art thou”
M touches VM tenderly. Pulls VM close to her and says
“Yes my beautiful, and blessed is our fruit.”
Spring 2013 – Wondrous Life (Still moment from a video by the same name)
Leaning in and trusting…
I went to Dartmoor seeking to remember my love of drawing…
a long time love of mine which somehow, somewhere along the line, in the midst of all the other making, (of sculpture, video, and painting) got set aside and then forgotten.
I found her though, this love, this lover of mine, somewhere under a pile of drawing exercises and hours of reminding myself of how to sit with a thing and just look.
I found her after spending hours reminding myself of basic drawing skills, remembering how it is to look for light, tone, texture and form, and how it is to plough through mounds of paper, charcoal, pens, pencils and putty rubbers and then seemingly achieve ‘nothing’.
I found her at my point of exasperation, when I had given up all hope of finding her actually.
I found her when I was disillusioned, and when I had accepted that maybe she was gone forever. In fact maybe she had only ever been an unattainable, unachievable aspiration of mine and now I had (perhaps) finally let go of what others had warned me might be the impossible dream.
I certainly found her when I had let go of all the working hard and all the searching, the longing and the desire….
I found her when I felt complete with myself, when I was solid with the Taos mountain in my heart and in my belly. I found her when I needed nothing from her. That is when she came to me.
For when I had given up trying, hoping, wanting, searching, when I had finally recognised control is an illusion, when I had completely given up, then I gave everything over to my body, to the universe, and to the powers of a greater spirit.
I blind folded myself, tucked my earplugs under my turban and disappeared into my private interior intending to touch upon and express physically all that I was feeling. (on the inside, on the outside and all around me.)
In this private, protected, cocoon like place, with no expectations, other than a hope that I might feel ‘something’, suddenly I could sense her within and all around me. I could feel love again, I could feel this ancient and familiar lover in every cell of my being….
It was as if she had come to me on the breeze from some far distant land. It was as if she had been waiting for me to let go enough to enable her re-entry. It was as if she was in fact already me, a part of me, some kind of familiar me from the past that had been separated somehow, sometime a long while ago out of circumstance, necessity, and I don’t know what.
Now she was returning to me to make me feel myself again, to help me remember myself, and enable me to feel safe at home.
She was retuning to me so I could know something that only lovers know, I could remember something that only love can touch, I could remember and know again about the special and unique ‘something’ that actually has no words and is possibly the most important thing one can ever be gifted with.
As my love, this lover returned to me, I leant in towards her, I leant in beyond the point of no return, and trusted her with all my know how and with everything.
She had returned.
Could she be my perfect fit?
I felt complete.
Completely connected to her, in love and entirely surrendered…..together we were flowing…
drawing in, drawing out, drawing forth….
Mixed media drawings – drawn blind in Dartmoor, Devon
1st August 2014Left Hand Side ‘This Is It’.
Right Hand Side ‘Everything is Here.’
Photo Credit – (Images of Veronique) Claude Heath
MOVING PRACTICE, MOVING IMAGE
24th May – 21st June 2014
This exhibition from Veronique Maria marks the end of an 18 month research and development project: Moving Practice, Moving Image. Between 2012-2014 Maria reviewed her entire art practice to date, in great detail and she particularly explored the way in which ritual, performance and film have played important roles throughout her career.
The exhibition will illustrate the artist’s journey from form to film, look back over the work she created between 1973-2013, and explore how performance and ritual has impacted on her work and life.
Examples of drawing, ceramics, and wood turning, earth work, installation, and fibre work, sculpture, performance, and painting will all sit beside her most recent work with the moving image.
Artist Talk & Workshop
Saturday 14th June
Artist talk: 11am-12pm
Workshop: 1pm – 5pm
Who’s it for:
Adults of all ages. No experience necessary. (Artists and non artists welcome)
Workshop – £10
Booking for workshop essential as places are limited.
Email: firstname.lastname@example.org to book your place
By listening to our body, trusting our intuition, and accepting that we are a part of a greater whole beyond the individual self, and that we are held by these things, we can learn to surrender to the unknown and take greater risks in our lives. This workshop invites you to stretch beyond your comfort zone and live a little more dangerously in order to deepen your relationship with your self.
NB. Workshop content may include a short walk. If this is likely to be difficult for you please speak to the gallery before booking your place.
About the Artist:
Veronique Maria was born in London in 1959, with Anglo Irish Indian heritage and was educated in London, Devon and then New Zealand, Canada and Singapore.
With a first degree in the crafting of materials such as wood, metal, ceramic, and plastics, (BA hons, Art and Design, Brighton) and an masters degree in mapping the psyche (MA in Applied Psychosythesis, Middlesex) she is interested in how we relate to ‘self’ and ‘other’, and how we express ourselves in the world.
From an early age she developed a deep respect for nature and a profound sense of our interconnectedness with all things. She explores this in her art work using craft, sculpture, painting, film, performance, writing and sound. Often moving genre, she attempts to let go of what’s known, in order to find something new.
Since completing two projects funded by Arts Council England, Orogeny, 2009-2011, and Moving Practice 2012-14, she was awarded a Helene Wurlitzer Residency in USA and spent three months in Taos, New Mexico. Living 8,000 feet up a mountain close to an Native American Indian Pueblo and their sacred lands, she has been exploring what her creativity is when there is no pre-planned project in mind, no expected outcome from funders and no internal or external judgements and pressures. Her project in the desert has been Deep Listening.