All Artists, All Magicians

All Artists, All Magicians

A blank empty canvas
Pure as the winter’s snow
Open as but a vast window
seeing deep into its soul.

The mind ticks in emotional frustration
Relics of imagination fly and form
Particles of atomic consciousness
Gather and flows like an astral storm.

White wash covers the surface
the first invocation soothing and mild
Then images gather before the eyes
like a raging storm, fierce and wild.

The pallet is filled with rainbow mixtures
here one joins to the alchemist's dream
establishing upon board, paper or canvas
the unfolding of the creative stream.

Brush in hand, Like an ancient wand
One casts the horizon like a spell
Summoning, coaxing, those tides within
Where the possession conquered, flowed and fell.

Dashes here, strokes there
Balancing the tones within each hue, 
the thoughts so fast, mind captured
Projections all of that inner you.

Murky and shapeless at the start
But shadows enhance, inward glance
Light engulfs and shines but through
the eyes captured to the romance.

The artist gallant before her glory
yet! Never fulfilled by its view
playing upon its essence and structure
she draws upon images anew.

One here becomes the timeless Shaman
working the magic of nature’s way
Gathering the similarities and imbuing with fire
Elevating ever the thought to the creative day.

Or like a modern mystic
Grasped tight in spiritual bliss
subduing into but representations
the reflections of the heaven's kiss.

But all in all the artist is
whether by paint, sculpture, acrylic or oil
a voyager of the main stream existence
her vision of her own scared soil.

The goal is not unlike any science
to acquire that bridge of untold reason
for artist down throughout the ages
have awakened the soul to its season.

The emotions arise, fly, excite
those creatures of the inspirational mind
Poets, musicians, painter, writers
by whatever character there we find
All artists, All Magicians.

©Gloria Gypsy. 2012

I spent my childhood in 'make believe' worlds although they were very real to me. With my little sister in tow, we would set out on journeys to the wild wood behind our house encountering many epic adventures, once we stepped through the portal from the 'real world' into an enchanted world of trolls, shapeshifters, plant spirits, and the fey.

Sometimes portals were found in books or closets, sometimes in friend's yards, sometimes by the lake... each with your own unique realms and magic.

As I grew through the years I was fortunate to be of strong will and so I never caved to the ideas of 'make believe' being for little ones, and at some point I would have to grow out of it... I would have to grow up! Well, grow up I did but I kept that magic with me through the years. I suppose, it was inevitable that I would one day weave magic into all aspects of my life.

I wrote the above poem All Artists, All Magicians a few years back and today I came across must listen to free audio download (thanks to Jean Anthony Shamanic Ceremonial Artist ) discussing artists as magician, as shaman, as storyteller and bringing to light the myth of art has no meaning, no purpose...

It speaks of other myths such as the myth of the starving artist and how one can change that into the myth of the thriving artist. I highly recommend all artists and everyone else for that matter to take a listen!



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