I spent the day in my studio working on a new series of art. As I made these pieces, working with the tea bags, I kept thinking about what we hold, what we steep, what gets dried out and what nourishes. As these thoughts rolled around in my head I continued to work both witnessing my process and being immersed in it at the same time.
So much of my work is about peeling back the layers and revealing that which often wants to remain hidden. Today I found myself peeling back the layers of the paper – a literal metaphor for the inner work of an examined life. What was interesting was how the paper responded. It would not budge without moisture, much like how our inner movement does not begin without tears. And it was interesting to see how the layers received color. Exposed, raw, they went darker or did not respond. It was as if the paper, much like ourselves had to be vulnerable to become beautiful.
I love this little drawing of the two trees in Witness Trees I. I did it a while ago. It has been hanging out in my studio, haunting me. The trees are touching, yet not really connected. Bearing witness to one another, yet individual. Unique. Separate.
And what it means to be witnessed? Living alone, my life is often unwitnessed. Am I like the proverbial tree that falls in the forest?