Art as Meditation

A couple of years ago, I saw a thread of conversation between artists on instagram on the subject of meditation. Most of the comments were in the same vain… they spoke about having trouble meditating and the inability to get a meditation practice going, stating one reason or another. I didn’t engage in the conversation at the time but it seemed clear they had a limited idea of what meditation could be.

As a long time meditator, my initial thought was that creating art in itself is, or could be, a form of meditation. Many meditation practices involve following the breath in order to bring you into the present moment while observing and letting go of thoughts as they arise. Those thoughts generally tend to carry you on a visit to the past or a journey into the future.

But when we create art we are doing so in the moment. With every brush stroke, every choice of color, texture, and use of materials, we are in the present moment. You often hear that the big gifts can be found in the process, rather than the end results or finished product. When we focus on the process we are in the now and it’s in the now that we find our joy and delight as artists. It’s not the finished artwork that keeps drawing us back to the creative process, it’s the act of creating that keeps artists engaged.

The process of creating art is an experience in the moment. So, in effect, it can easily be a meditative practice. In every part of that process, we have a choice of being fully present with our materials, breathing into the experience, and letting go of the world outside our studio space. Each moment of the art process is a gift and opportunity to be present with our developing creations, to observe the feelings that arise with each stage of that development, whether it be joy and delight, or frustration and angst.

When we experience the messy middle, it’s likely that our minds have wandered away from the here and now and carried us to thoughts or concerns of the finished piece. We may want to hold onto a part, or all, of what we’ve accomplished so far, without messing it up. Although that can take us out of the moment, being present with those feelings and observing our flow of thoughts, without getting caught in them, can become part of our process. This offers us greater awareness of how we internally process our creative flow.

Back in the 1980’s I did a full week intensive class in meditation. We were taught to focus on our breath. When thoughts came into mind, to label them “thinking,” letting them go, and then returning to the breath. In any given moment, an artist can shift from wherever the mind has wandered to being with their creation in the now. It is a dance we can have with our tools and materials, shifting back to the current brushstroke, or pencil mark, ink splatter, sculpted element, etc. Art can so easily be your meditation practice. And many are already engaged in that practice whether they have labeled it so, or not.

You may also be interested in:

Art: A Divine Connection
Morning Meditation Paintings
Meditation on Rain

Meditation on Rain

A section of one of the Morning Meditation Paintings (No. 10)

I was in the middle of meditating (after waking up way too early) when the rain began to come down so powerfully hard and loud. I had just been in that place within me where I often find myself… surrounded by the landscape yet above the landscape, unfettered by gravity, rising above but somehow merged with the whole of oneness energy. A peaceful, whole, safe, oneness.

Then it began to pour and I had a momentary question that arose… of being with the sound of the rain or going back to where I was. The answer was, the sound is the now, in this moment. The earlier moments were in that oneness but now the whole was in the sound. The sound as a sound without meaning or expectation. Can I separate the sound of the rain from my years of understanding of what that sound means? Can I separate the sound from the visuals I carry of what is happening outside the room’s French doors… on the deck? On the roof? Am I able to just be with the sound without the anticipation of the raindrops to come immediately after this very moment of sound? And the next? Am I able to experience this moment without my knowledge of what rain is, the benefits of what it can do for the earth, and separate from my personal history with rain?

There was nothing to think of, to understand, to know about the rain except… In this moment it just is! Then the breath, the movement of my abdomen, and the sound of the rain merged into the moment.  The sound was no longer separate but part of the whole of the now. Then an awareness of the feeling of the cloth from my shirt on my belly, at the furthest point of the outbreath, became part of the mix.

You may be interested in reading about the Morning Meditation Paintings.