A Lifelong Search for Home
I’ve spent the past 10 years pouring myself into making art. But before this time I was reluctant to make it at all. This wasn’t because I didn’t want to make art, but because of the pain I associated with it. I heard about artists wrestling with their work, struggling to work multiple jobs, not finding rest. And as a shy, sensitive person I also felt it was so vulnerable to be an artist. To stand in front of others and be open to outside judgement felt like too much for me.
Instead I sought out a path that put me in close proximity to art. I went to study Art History and Italian in Rome. I wanted to be surrounded by beauty, and I thought that in that beauty I would find my home. Of course this eventually brought me back to my own art practice.
Throughout my life this search for home has been in the background. I’ve looked for it by physically always wanting to be at home. I’ve searched for home in trips back to the city where I was born, in relationships, and in deep appreciation for nature. I’ve looked for it in the countries where I felt my love of art and beauty was equally felt, and of course in printmaking. All of these experiences provided glimpses of homes, but they were not lasting. I couldn't figure out how to help this severe homesickness and anxiety that I always felt. Finally when there was nowhere left to search, I looked for it in my own being. I took up meditation and learned that home is a state rather than a place.
Although I know how to find home within myself, it’s a practice. By living abroad and travelling back to places of my past there is a sense that I can find my home there. But I know it’s an illusion, and I imagine that if I ever moved back to California this feeling of home that comes easily to me while visiting on holiday would somewhat unravel.
So I remember that my home is here and now, tending to each moment with care and awareness, seeing myself clearly.
Can you relate? Let me know in the comments.
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