Did you look up last night? The last full moon of the winter season was bright in the sky - the Worm Moon.
This winter, the first since my Dad’s death, I let myself lie fallow. Making art has always been my means of processing the world. Although I made many attempts, I just couldn’t coax anything out. I tried not to judge myself, but it was hard. Without my Dad to talk to and without the ritual of working on art, I felt lost. Utterly untethered.
Luckily, seasons change.
I recently started assisting my dear friend, Ghostshrimp in his online group workshop for artists. I offer constructive advice to everyone in the workshop. I also get to follow along myself, producing a finished illustration every week for twelve weeks. It has been inspiring and motivating.
My ritual has begun anew: I play an album my Dad liked, sit down at my desk, sketch, cry, paint, and feel my feelings (in no particular order).
For the first piece of the workshop, Ghostshrimp challenged us to dive into our own personal mythology. What makes you who you are?
New Growth, 2023. Watercolor and watercolor pencils.
As a kid, I was entranced by turtles. The eastern box turtle, also from Pennsylvania, geo-imprints on its home of a couple square miles. They know every part of it intimately. But if you move a turtle from where you find them, they will be lost forever.
Like this turtle, I have been lost. My shell is cracked, as I have been feeling cracked open by my grief.
In my wanderings, I am drawn to a fallen tree. Through the tree’s death, new life is nurtured. I do not know what will grow from this, but I put my trust in the regenerative nature of death and the possibilities of life.
Then I look up at the moon, and feel hopeful.
~ Lermy