Everybody is in your studio—
The past,
Your friends,
Enemies,
The art world,
And above all, your own ideas—all are there.
But as you continue painting,
They start leaving,
One by one,
And you are left completely alone.
Then if you’re lucky, even you leave.
~ John Cage
Sometimes I’m asked how I can guide so many people in a workshop as they plumb the depths of their inner lives all at the same time. There’s a strange trust I have come to rely on. It’s not some belief or philosophy but an actual feeling about the background in which the experience takes place. There’s a certainty that whatever arises is right. This is, of course, sorely tested at times, and my ability to trust this amid challenging circumstances is an ongoing part of my own journey – as well as being the point of confrontation for each painter in the process. But it’s a definite presence that acts in a generous, accepting, and tough-love sort of way.
To begin with, there’s a deep belief in the powerful currents of human intention. People have gathered with the sincere purpose of exploring. That already is enormous. A group intention of this sort cannot help but provide exciting developments. Add to that the infinite variation and combination of motivations for participating – each person bringing a mixture of considerations that are at once personal, familial, cultural, philosophical, political, and spiritual – and you have a potent brew for adventure.
Watching this internal cacophony settle down into the simplicity of painting is quite extraordinary. All that intensity and agitation is not lost or erased. It’s channeled into one metaphorical act – choosing color and applying it to paper. Everyone is in the same place at the same time, held in the breathless moment of what’s about to appear next. I know then beyond doubt that all is as it should be and that the various difficulties and challenges that arise in the course of this exploration will be part of a larger whole, directed by an intelligence that, if not knowable, is infinitely trustable. In short, we are in good hands.
This is not an idea I accept lightly. I’ve always been averse to simplistic concepts of a guiding principle that become casual and self-serving. History is full of examples in which the notion of something beyond has turned ugly, violent, and demeaning. The tendency to usurp the authority of the divine in order to create and maintain an advantage is appealing to the pedantic mind, as is the desire to cast it in the image of something concrete and manageable by the tyranny of thought.
Yet the intuition remains – there is a larger reality at hand, supporting us beyond our own best efforts toward a territory of greater dimension than the one we currently believe ourselves to inhabit. To be able to hold to the truth of that intuition, participating with it without attempting to grasp it or control it, is the challenge being faced by us all. And to meet it here consciously in painting, held in the benevolent atmosphere of mutual support and respect, is a true gift.
