Hypnotica - Abstract fine liner doodle art zentangle

I’m looking forward to tomorrow as I get to have fun demonstrating my art at Hobbycraft Bristol, Cribbs Causeway as their Artist in residence.  I’m going to be doing some dylusion ink art, mono printing on my Gelli Arts Gel plate, see some examples of the different types of art I’ll be doing throughout this article.

Wealie Arts Halloween Colouring Book Cover

Dylusions Ink Art Design

I’m also going to be doing some abstract doodle art, or  zentangles as they are sometimes called and I’ll be launching my very first abstract doodle art colouring book, a snap at just £3.50  Don’t despair if you won’t be able to make it to pick up your copy, keep a watchful eye on this space as I’m hoping to upload it as a downloadable pdf at some point in the not too distant future.

I’ll also be launching a halloween colouring competition for kids up to the age of 13 to submit a coloured version of one of the designs (the witches’ hat) from the colouring book, with a prize of their very own zentangle doodle art design of whatever subject they would like me to create.

Firery Waves - Mono Print

The deadline is 31 October so there’s plenty of time for the kids to get colouring and you can download a copy of the competition form and rules here.  I’ll post the entries I receive on a special blog post on 05 November together with the announcement of the winner and will post a pic of the winner’s doodle choice once I’ve completed it.

Hope you all have a great weekend!

R
x

For She Is The Storm - Copyright R.Weal 2011

One of my family’s favourite stories about me (of which there
are many), is how I was born under a raging summer storm.
In fact, that August in the year of my birth was a very stormy one and apparently even as a babe, I was never frightened of the storms – mainly I slept peacefully through them.

As I grew I became increasingly fascinated by storms and I’ve always been able to tell when a storm is coming, even before the clouds roll in and the ozone coats the air about us.  Every so often in my life there has been a special storm, one that feels familiar and right.  A deep gravitational pull exists between us, pulling us into each other’s sphere of being, speaking deeply of home and belonging.  She is the elemental force from which an unknowable part of me was sprung the night I was born, my mother storm.

As I sense mother storm I feel the need to go out and meet her; (for I cannot think of her as an ‘it’), to commune with her essence.  I can only describe it as a perfect feeling of being welcomed home.  She always comes when I need guidance or support, when my reserves are low and my spirit ebbing.  She infuses my being, filling me up with her rejuvenating power, firing my creativity with her lightning, warming my heart with her raucous thunder.  And as for her blessed rain?  Oh, to be kissed by her tears – for a moment to be washed clean of all my earthly bonds and pains is a truly indescribable experience.  For when her essence whips about me I am not of this earth – I am the wind, I am the rain and I dance to the thunder beneath the lancing lightning that binds my spirit to her.

Storm Swept - Copyright R.Weal 2011

Whilst I commune with her time stands still and yet moves faster than anything I have ever known.  The exceptional bond between us defies all reason.  When she leaves me I am bereft, for a moment so heartbroken I wonder how I will even find my next breath.  But then the world reasserts itself, my heart beats and I find that I am once again whole, infused with a new lustre and will to go on.  Her gift to me is the elemental sorcery that always resides within me, keeping me safe in the light until she can find me again.

She visited me earlier this month and brought forth a torrent of poetry and art (which you can see here in this post), stoking the fire into life from the dying embers of my creativity.  Below you will find the video I captured of my mother storm and the piece of poetic prose I wrote for her.  I hope maybe some of her power leaps out from them into you.

Thank you mother storm, ‘till we commune again I will ever be your earthbound daughter.

Tread safely in the light.

Wealie x

Reunited

She felt the presence long before she consciously understood. Something called up from deep within her – dormant electricity brought forth into being with only a thought, brightening the very blood within her veins to sing in anticipation.

Alive with power, glowing with effervescence and a pure spark of life, she stepped out into the world no longer entirely a part of it. The wind’s whispers grew into a loving caress, promising the birth of magic to come. Brooding clouds crowded about her, transforming her into an ethereal form. The very weather itself courted her like an attentive lover – framing her like an ancient goddess among men.

And then she knew; knew her storm was calling her home. So long since last they communed, too long since she was filled with the ancient power in her veins and blessed with the mighty kiss of the storm’s tears. So long since she had been absolved of all earthly bounds and shame.

Original Sketch of Storm Goddess - Copyright R.Weal 2011

“Come,” she plaintively called
“Come to me,” she breathlessly heaved
“Breathe new life into my tired soul.
Imbue these wizened veins with the elixir of your simple truth.
Release my true self and I will be your earthly emissary.”

And so her storm came, rushing over, under, around and through her – flooding her system with cleansing power, covering her with tears of joy as it sung her thunderous praises, ecstatically lighting up the sky with the excitement of their reunion. Woman and storm converged in sorcerous communion, her earth bound spirit set free, birthed anew in the tender love of her mighty Mother Storm.

With regretful motion the two were parted, neither knowing when next they would converge as one. But always within they carry a vital element of the other, so that they might always find each other across the long oceans of time and the lost, lonely valleys of each day and night. For in truth they can never truly be parted.

Ruth Weal

For Mother Storm, until we meet again I am ever your earthbound daughter
x

Written during a beautiful Summer Storm

Copyright R.Weal © 7 May 2011 1.10 am

Is this what you want from me? - Copyright R.Weal 2007

I read a really good article about depression today called In the Fog by Ginger, who shared her personal story and the things she has learnt about depression and how to cope with it.  If you get the chance it is well worth a read.

It amazes me the number of people that suffer from depression and the common story they all tell of isolation and loneliness.  There is a lot of stigma around depression, I think perhaps mainly because people who don’t suffer can’t quite understand how it works.  They can’t see any visible sign of the disease, they don’t understand how you catch it or if it is contagious and they’re scared by the fact there is no simple cure.  Those that suffer hide their pain and loneliness.  They feel an understandable, but unwarranted shame and weakness, when the truth is far more complicated.  All of this leads to further isolation and more loneliness, often prolonging the suffering needlessly.  The reality is that people with depression, the doctors, psychologists and psychiatrists are not much more the wiser either!

What can we do to lift the stigma?

So many people suffer with depression and stress, far more than admit it and it’s about time we lifted this insidious stigma that has been placed upon the sufferers.  The only way I can see this being possible is if people like Ginger, Shelly, Melissa and I share our experiences and by doing so encourage others to as well.  Please read Ginger, Shelly and Melissa’s experiences and please share your experiences either in my blog’s comments or on your own blog and link it back here.  Let’s take a stand once and for all and shed some light on this murky topic, give solace to those suffering through our experiences of surviving it and helpful tips of how we managed to get through the bad times.  I know when I was at my lowest ebb I would have loved to know that I was not alone.

The artist and depression

One thing I have noted in my discussions of depression with others is that individuals who suffer with depression are often touched with a deep artistic and emotional vein.  They are deeply in touch with their imagination, creativity and the emotional core of their being.  This means they can appreciate the simple pleasures, find beauty in what others might find ugly, will find goodness in unlikely places and are capable of producing the most wonderful, engaging, magical and beautiful works of art.  But in all things there is a balance, a yin to the yang and if an artistic individual has the ability to see the merest light and beauty in life, they are equally capable of falling into the darkness and becoming mired in the ugliness of life.

My personal experiences with depression

Don't Forget Me - Because Sometimes Moving on and Letting Go Isn't Simple - Copyright R.Weal 2008

I have suffered with depression over the years, sometimes to the point at which it became completely debilitating and other times where no one, not even my closest friends and family were aware that I was anything more than a little bit blue.   I think it started fairly early around 14, but I didn’t understand what it was.  I just felt like I didn’t want to be around anyone, I didn’t want to leave my bedroom, let alone the house.  I just wanted to escape into books and my artistic outlets, listening to music, shutting myself off from the real world, existing in an imaginary world where no one could reach or hurt me.  As I was living at home it was fairly mild and went unnoticed by my family.  It was a recurring theme of my teens, but it wasn’t until I was 24 that I had my first real all out fight with depression, which also turned out to be the most cataclysmic!

At 24 I was in a relationship that was stifling me, that I couldn’t see my way clear of and my relationship with my mother had hit an all time low from which it never recovered.  I had no direction, I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life, though everyone seemed to think they knew who I was, what I stood for and where I was going, what I should be doing and it was at odds with the secret dreams I held deep within me.  In addition to the symptoms I had suffered in my teens I got severe anxiety, being unable to keep down any food, sometimes not even being able to drink water for the severity of the butterflies that took up permanent residence in my stomach.  I lost a terrible amount of weight in a very short time (a lot of people thought I was anorexic or bulimic).  I had severe insomnia and would drive around at night for hours on end, (it was not uncommon for me to do over 100 miles in a night!).  I was restless and yet listless, I didn’t want to leave the house and yet could not stay in the company of my partner.  I barely ate or drank, and on weekends when my partner wasn’t there I never got out of bed and just slept.

Finally I found myself completely exhausted, at my wits end standing at the edge of the ocean with an insidious voice calling out to me of what it would be like to just keep walking and then just swimming out further and further from shore, until my limbs grew tired and cold, my mind peaceful and numb and I could just not worry about living any more, to give myself over to the tide of death and her deadly siren song.  It seemed to me that I did not have one reason to live, not one bright spark of hope in my future and that the world and everyone in it would have been better off without me.  I was so alone, stood out in the wind and rain not feeling the cold or the wet, ready to give up on life at such a young age.

This is not an easy thing for me to share, even as I type this I am transported back to that beach and it brings tears to my eyes, but it is important to me that I share this, so that should just one person suffering read this then they might know that they are not alone, that I have stood where they do now and that through reading this they might see that there is hope.

The Light in my darkness

And in my darkest hour it was my art that shed the light that saved me.  Just as I was contemplating moving my feet forward into the water a single line of poetry entered my head and suddenly for just one more minute I had a reason to keep breathing, a need to live to give birth to the poem that began to beat incessantly within my head.  I turned away from the insidious whispers of oblivion, got back in my car and went home to write the poem and then fell into an exhausted unconsciousness.

The next morning I awoke petrified by my actions of the night before, it was like a terrible nightmare, but I knew that it was real, if not for the poem staring up at me from the paper on the desk.  I phoned the doctors got an emergency appointment and was finally diagnosed and treated for depression with counselling and anti-depressants.

This is the poem that saved me:

THE STORM

It is easy to find oneself lost within the storm. It approaches so silently; no earthly being can escape its wake. Encompassing you within its heartless winds, buffeting your heart with its cool kiss. You stand alone as it beats down its tears of rage, blistering upon your furrowed brow, leave me, please leave me now. Insignificant spec, I cannot hear my heart, I am mute in my discontent and still this storm vents.

“I am lost”, I am losing my grip and I fear I shall fall. Who then shall be there to listen, who shall wait at the foot of the precipice for my ungainly fate? I am nothing, I am not even hate. What does it matter, I hear the hounds at my door, this isn’t my time, this isn’t my place, but who am I to question almighty fate?

Anger seething still within, but I’m so tired, the sea calls out to me through the din. Whispered longing to know my flesh, a reckless abandon rests beneath my breast. Silent entreaty I pray to the night, but my angel has taken his flight. To dance again my one request, I wait upon your true caress.

Ruth Weal
10th November 1999 11.20 pm
Copyright R.Weal 1999 ©

The importance of art for expression and as a coping mechanism

Convergence (A Self Portrait) - Copyright R.Weal 2008

The Storm is just a few scant verses and stylistically not my best work, but it is by far my most important and most deeply cherished!  You cannot under estimate the importance of art as a means of expression and a coping mechanism.

Perversely I have created some of my most charged and beautiful works of art in my depression.  The depth of the emotions that depression draws from me has allowed me to open up my artistry to levels I never would have dreamed possible in my mentally healthy state.

It is an important method of coping with the emotions that you cannot verbalise or cry out.  It gave me a sense of fulfilment that even on my very worst days I had not wasted them because I had written a poem, painted a picture, taken and edited a photograph.  Art gave meaning to my depression, which allowed me to understand it and in turn better know myself and why the depression had taken hold.

Would I take a cure?

I have often wrangled with the idea of what I would do if a quick cure for depression became available. The decision to take it would not be an easy one, for as much as my demons haunt me and can be destructive to my life they can also be instructive, creative and humbling.  My depression is a part of me, part of the balance of my being that makes me a better person I think.

When I took anti-depressants I found myself feeling strangely disconnected from myself, I was flat, no longer able to touch my emotions and engage with the creativity that they drew from me.  It was quite a disconcerting and frightening experience and I took myself off the pills fairly quickly (not that I’m advocating everyone should do that, especially not without consulting your doctor!).

How do I cope?

For me pills were not the answer, there is no quick fix for my depression it is much like a reformed alcoholic of years who continues to go to AA meetings because they will always be haunted by the spectre of the addiction and relapses are always a possibility.  Depression is a silent, insidious creeping disease that can take you by surprise if you don’t take the time to watch yourself carefully.

I am lucky not to have ever relapsed to the state I was in when “The Storm” came to save me.  I am ever vigilant and yet sometimes the depression gets the better of me, but today I understand it and me well enough to weather the storm.  I know how to combat and control it with my coping mechanisms.

Here’s what works for me:

1. Channel the emotion through art - Whatever it is, no matter the medium or how good or bad you think it may be. Get it out, let it live in all its glory and make something positive out of the experience.  All my depressed pieces rank amongst those I am most proud and fond of
2. Share your art and experiences – the first time I got up and read my poetry out loud was a revelation and it is an amazing feeling when people come up to you and tell you they’ve felt that way, or that what you read has helped them too.  Not to mention the wonderful comments I’ve received on my flickr account for my artistic photography
3. Give yourself leave to feel the emotion – Sometimes you have to give in, let it consume you for just a little while to bank the fires and keep control
4. Try and be open about how you are feeling with those closest to you – This is the part I find the most difficult.  I’m a very emotional person, but I keep it all very close to my heart and find it excruciating sometimes to externalise what I feel unless it is through art, but I am slowly getting better at it.
5. Seek help – I had a fantastic doctor when I was 24 who couldn’t do enough to help me.  It felt wonderful just to know that I wasn’t being silly, that I really was ill and the counselling was a great experience that gave me a completely unbiased person to talk to, who didn’t have a stake in the lives of any of the people I spoke to her about.

To my fellow suffers

Though I do not know your names, I know your hearts, I hear your souls crying out.  I have one truly important thing to tell you YOU ARE NOT ALONE and I am here for you if you need me.  Feel free to comment on the blog or email me at info@wealie.co.uk, I promise to respond!

Take what you can from my experience and my art, it is freely given with all my love and friendship and no requirement for you to give anything back.  But when and if you feel strong enough I urge you to share your experiences so that we might lift the veil of silence, burn off the stigma and maybe help another sufferer or two along the way.

Sleep safely, and find me in the newborn night.

Oblivion knows my name and she whispers softly to me.

Wealie x

Other great blog posts about depression

• In the Fog by Ginger on her blog Seamstress of Avalon
• Creative Depression by Melissa on her blog Sugar Filled Emotions
• Grateful for depression by Christine on her inspirational blog Hope despite Depression
• Depression and Chronic Illness by Foxy on their blog Foxy in the Waiting Room

Intricacy

This painting is kind of a cross between a painting and a doodle, the detail is very evocative of my doodle styles.  The more intricate design is thanks to some spiffy new itty bitty paint brushes that I used to do the detail work.

I was pleased with how it came out and it seems a very upbeat, if bright picture, but I personally wouldn’t want to stare at it for too long and I wouldn’t suggest trying to psychoanalyse what it means!

Medium is acrylic on fabric
Size 16 x 16 inches

It’s amazing how often you can see water voles in the little tributary when walking down Constable’s Walk, made famous by the artist John Constable who painted several views of Salisbury Cathedral (known locally as the “Town Path”) in Salisbury, UK, which links Elisabeth Gardens with the Old Mill at Harnham.

If you are ever in my neck of the woods I would urge you to take a trip down the Town Path and have a pint or two at The Old Mill.  Many a great summer afternoon can be wiled away in these lovely locations and you never know what critters you might see along the way.

Convergence was my longest “straight through creation”, i.e. I painted it over 48 hrs without sleeping or leaving the house (I did snack and have loo breaks though).   Of the three paintings I created after Nan died this was the one that brought me the most resolution and peace. Symbolic of all the ties of the people I love in my life and the convergence of all their love weaving into the pattern that makes up me.

In a way that I did not quite understand until I viewed it again lately it is an emotional self portrait of my thoughts and feelings.

It was with great happiness that I gave this painting in particular to one of the most important women in my life (my very good friend and sister of my soul), Lisa.   It hangs in pride of place in her bathroom and it’s nice to know that something born in my grief and pain has brought her joy.

I never took a pic of it before I gave it to Lisa (I never really have of my paintings). I used to be exceptionally self-conscious of this medium of my artistic outlet and don’t by any means consider myself to be a painter and artist. My technique is sloppy at best, but I find a certain sense of peace when I paint. Where writing wrings from me the emotions, taking me to great highs and lows, leaving me elated and drained, painting is the opposite. Painting grounds me, fills me with the scent of the colours, mesmerises me with the shapes and lines my mind would have me follow and leads me to my centre and peace. I should probably paint more often (grin).

In days gone by I have merely thrown away my canvases after a few weeks and never thought to share them with anyone until the likes of Lisa complained at the idea.

Well Lisa now has another two of my paintings and true to form I gave them to her before photographing them, so I went to her house with camera in hand and finally photographed Convergence too.

It’s acrylic on canvas, I hope you like it too.

The idea of this piece is to represent the power we hold in our hands and the sight we don’t necessarily use with our eyes.

Apparently it’s still freaky, though not as freaky as Sight Bound.

Medium is acrylic on canvas covered hard board, size is A4.

I love water and the sea, especially stormy seas. When I lived in Portsmouth I would often drive down to Southsea beach and park in the car park behind the amusements and just watch as the stormy waves broke over onto the footpath. It was very soothing and awe inspiring to watch.

Medium is acrylic on Canvas 8 x 10 ins

This is a typically Wealie work.

Medium is acrylic on canvas covered hard board 12 x 9 ins.

I was day dreaming when I came up with the image of the swirls that were a bit like waves and as I was painting Water (part 2) I decided to paint the four elements as a quartet.

There are four separate paintings that I’ve pulled together into one image using Photoshop.

Medium is acrylic on canvas covered hard board 10 x 8 ins.