Category Archives: paper art

The Muñeco: A Small Figure That Holds So Much

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While researching a new series of altar-based assemblages for the Taos exhibit that will be inspired by the ritual codex of Sr. Alfonso García Téllez, I rediscovered a word I hadn’t thought about in years: muñeco. (“moo-NYEH-koh”)

You may not have heard this term before in this context. In Spanish, muñeco means “little doll” or “figure,” but in the sacred art of Alfonso Téllez—an Otomí shaman from San Pablito, Mexico—a muñeco is something much more than a toy. It is a spirit vessel, a symbolic stand-in used in healing rituals, offerings, and prayers.

Cut from handmade amate bark paper in simple, symmetrical forms, these figures carry what is too heavy, too complex, or too mysterious to name directly.

That idea stopped me in my tracks — a symbol? An archetype? A vessel for complex emotions?

In Téllez’s codices, a cut paper bird figure, for instance, might represent loss, freedom, rebirth, or all of those at once. The figure is a kind of visual shorthand—a handmade icon that expresses the inexpressible.

These are not just decorative elements; they are tools of ceremony and emotion, used in acts of release, remembrance, and reverence.

And that’s when I realized — we could all use a muñeco.

What if you cut a shape from paper—just a silhouette—and let it hold something for you? A grief. A prayer. A question. A transition.

You could glue it into a collage, tuck it into a pocket, burn it, bury it, or simply keep it near. Not to solve the feeling. But to give it form. To acknowledge it. To begin to let it move.

This idea became the seed for a new oracle card in my Enso deck—The Muñeco. It reminds us that the most powerful symbols don’t have to be complex or literal. They just have to be true.

Sometimes, the smallest figure holds the most.

The Muñeco

Keywords: Spirit Vessel · Proxy · Release · Ancestral Simplicity

Interpretation:

The Muñeco is a doll-like figure cut from bark or paper—simple, symmetrical, and quiet. But don’t mistake its humility for weakness. It is a sacred stand-in, a vessel for what you cannot carry, what you cannot say. In ritual, the muñeco holds illness, sorrow, memory, or prayer. In your life, it may be asking: What weight are you ready to release? What part of you longs to be witnessed and let go?

This card honors the ancient truth that the most powerful symbols are not always grand—they are small, handmade, passed down, and alive with meaning. The Muñeco reminds you that fragility and faith can live in the same shape. Cut your prayer from paper. Name your burden. Then offer it forward, and let it be carried.

Reversed:

Reversed, The Muñeco suggests confusion between what is yours and what you’ve placed onto others—or what others have placed on you. Are you unconsciously projecting, assigning roles, or expecting others to carry what is yours to hold? Or are you refusing to let something go, keeping it folded tightly within yourself? The spirit figure has become tangled. This card invites you to separate, to clarify, and to release with compassion.

Reflection Questions:

  • What object or act could serve as a release today?
  • Have I mistaken simplicity for lack of meaning—or overlooked the quiet things that hold the most?
  • Who or what have I turned into a proxy for my own unspoken needs?

Closing Insight:

The Muñeco holds space for what cannot speak. In letting it carry your burden, you remember that even the smallest gesture can be an act of ceremony.

(Above) Autograph manuscript concerning Otomí indigenous curandero customs and folk medicine in Mexico. The text describes shamanic rituals for various maladies (enfermedades) with mounted cut-out paper figures (mun̋ecos)representing spirit entities drawn from both indigenous and Christian mythos. Illustrated with amate bark paper cut-outs, dated approximately 1978

_____________________________________________

A Small Practice

If this idea speaks to you, try this:

Sit quietly with a small square of folded paper. You don’t need a plan—just rest your hands, take a breath, and begin to cut. Let your thoughts wander toward something you’d like to let go of… or something you wish to remember.

When you’re ready, unfold the paper.

See what’s there. A figure, a shape, a whisper of a form.

You’ve made your own muñeco.

Now pause. Ask yourself: What do I want to do with this little symbol?

Will you keep it tucked into a journal? Burn it in ceremony? Bury it, give it away, or place it on your studio worktable or tape it in your window?

Deciding what to do with the cut shape is part of the ritual.

It’s a way of giving form to something too vast for words—and choosing how to honor it or say goodbye to it.

And speaking of saying goodbye, I’m headed to Ireland this week to teach a workshop at the Mulranny Arts Centre—an inspiring place where dreams and landscapes overlap. I’ll be offline for a little while, but I’ll return soon with stories, images, and new ideas to share.

In the meantime, why not cut a paper shape, a muñeco —not to finish something, but to begin. Let it be a placeholder for your thoughts, your plans, your hopes. Let it hold what you’re not ready to name just yet.

Be safe.
Do good work.
And let the small things carry meaning!

Thanks, as always, for reading SHARDS.

♥Lyn

my muñeco for the journey – it holds so much and lets go of so much

The Gift of Celestial Navigation

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In my last post, I talked about a new sculptural form I’m working on to take to Ireland for our Vessels workshop there this summer. I called it the Five Knot Vessel and it’s part of a larger idea encompassing Spirit Vessels/Sacred Ships. I’ve been filming a new workshop about that for the last couple of weeks.

Lots of other artists have helped show me the way, but  I’ve still been sort of inventing it as I go along. Strangely, I  haven’t really felt lost lost, and it occurred to me that I should thank my father for this. Here’s why –

During World War II, my father was a navigator, flying out of Horham Airbase in England,  charting courses through the night skies using instruments like the sextant and the ever-reliable chronometer. With only the stars and a drift meter, he found his way for his pilot and the crew through uncertainty by using celestial navigation.

His maps and almanacs were filled with numbers and angles, but to me, they always felt like something more—a kind of sacred geometry, a quiet trust in star patterns.

He pointed out to my brothers and me the constellations in the dark sky (I can still find Orion) and showed us how to find the North Star no matter where we were (the two outermost stars in the bowl of the Big Dipper point to it). Even though we moved around so much as children in a military family, he didn’t want us to ever feel lost.

I realize now that my own artistic journey draws deeply from that same navigational spirit. In my vessels and assemblages, I piece together fragments—shards, relics, whispered clues—to find direction, to create meaning. Like him, I chart a course, even when the path ahead isn’t visible.

My compass may be intuitive rather than mechanical, but the need to find my way, no matter where I am, echoes through every layer I build.

Each vessel I create feels like a map in three dimensions, a kind of spiritual charting made visible through form and texture. The assemblages are constellations of memory and mystery—bits of paper, found objects, old photos, words half-remembered or imagined—all pointing toward something just beyond the known.

This is important: I don’t always understand what I’m building at first, but as the pieces come together, a path emerges. It’s a quiet navigation, a way of honoring the instinct to move forward with purpose, guided by trust in the process. Just as my father trusted the stars, I trust the fragments, the gestures, the invisible pull that tells me, “you’re on course.”

My art is my “sky”—it holds the coordinates of where I’ve been and points to where I might go next.

In remembering my father’s tools of navigation, I’ve come to recognize my own, even though I’m not even halfway through this experimental vessel workshop journey. Where he had precise instruments and star charts, I have intuition, layers, and luminous surfaces that speak in symbols.

But the impulse is the same: to locate oneself in the vastness, to chart meaning from mystery. Each piece of art I make is a kind of message to the universe, a quiet assertion that I am here, I am looking, I am finding my way.

You, too, have your own navigational tools—anchored in a childhood memory, a beloved mentor’s words, or a moment that gave you courage and direction. Whatever they are, trust them. They are your inner compass, guiding you across the uncharted waters of your own creative life.

Perhaps that’s the greatest legacy of all—not the destination, but the courage to navigate by what light we have, and to keep creating our path, one small guiding star at a time. Thanks, Dad.

And thanks for reading!

 

Hill Country Gelli Jam

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The small towns and two-lane roads fanning out north of San Antonio and westward from Austin make up the heart of the Texas Hill Country. There, you will find rivers that wind through an abundance of bald cypress trees, shimmering lakes cupped in limestone canyons, and rustic German towns with unique names. One of our favorite places to stay is called Hillside Acres near Dripping Springs where we just spent a weekend with 15 inter-generational family members.

I am the Designated Art & Crafts teacher on these trips, and this time I decided to being along Gelli plates for some printmaking lessons using the camp’s abundant natural leaves and grasses. I reminded the campers that we needed just a few interesting samples, and then laid out the guidelines:

  • Only gather plant samples where it’s permitted and ensure to minimize any negative impact on the environment. Preserve the beauty and balance of nature.
  • Take only what you need and avoid harming the plants or their surroundings. Sustainable harvesting ensures the ecosystem remains healthy and diverse.
  • Aim to collect a wide range of plant species to expand your artistic palette. Experimenting with different textures, shapes, and sizes can lead to unique and interesting prints.
  • Clean up after yourself and leave the gathering area as you found it, or even better. Take pride in being responsible stewards of the environment and setting a positive example for others.

We spread the plant samples out on newspapers in the spacious Gathering Room. Sharing was encouraged.

First, we made Chapbooks to hold our favorite prints (there is a free workshop on my Teachable site showing you how to to this).

Then we created two-layer gelli prints based on positive and negative space around the plant samples.

We got lots of interesting results from all kinds of plants:

Everyone loved making “birds’ nest” prints from grasses and cut paper egg shapes:

Some of the Weekend Camp Artists used their prints on their chapbooks as covers, and some wanted to frame theirs.

You don’t need any experience to make really interesting, artful, designs using gelli plates and natural materials. Keep this in mind of you are looking for a fun activity for a family trip, especially if you are going where natural materials are widely available. It’s a good way to study the characteristics of different leaves and flowers and to preserve them as one-of-a-kind monoprints.

If you’ve never used a gelli plate before, the website called Gelli Arts has lots of information, including tutorials and lessons plans as well as materials lists and how-to’s (I have no connection with them other than enjoying the process).

I hope you are able to enjoy a nice get-away this spring with friends of family that includes some art!  Now, back to the studio . . . .

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Painting with Fire – fill your bowl!

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It’s so great when things come together almost magically, like bowls and scrolls and wax and fiber!

Today I’m able to announce that my new Painting with Fire Encaustic workshop will be called The Diaphanous Vessel: Exploring Paper, Fiber, Plaster, and Wax.  This class reflects the excitement that I’m having inventing ways to create translucent, delicate but strong vessels.

Vessels are not new to me, but I’ve always thought of them as clay forms. What a revelation to realize that paper and fiber can fuse together to create these organic forms that are surrounded by space inside and outside. Translucent beeswax binds these shapes together and fiber strengthens them.

And of course, if you sign up for Painting with Fire for this coming year, you’ll learn how to make these for yourself.  You’ll also have 53 other great workshops from the best encaustic teachers ever.

Click here for the info and the link to register

My summer class at SW/UTSA will also be about building vessel – there are just so many possibilities, and so many metaphors relating to bowls and receptacles. Stay tuned for that class info if you are here in San Antonio – the summer catalog is almost ready to come out.

Vessels, be they bowls, cups, or urns, embody a metaphorical richness that transcends their utilitarian function. They symbolize receptivity, gracefully accepting the contents poured into them. Conversely, they epitomize generosity, as vessels pour forth their contents, offering sustenance or wisdom to others.  They speak to the human condition, serving as vessels not only of physical substance but also of emotion, culture, and spirituality.

Some new vessels with collage and with Irish paper.

I love this excerpt from Jane Hirshfield’s poem, The Bowl:

A day, if a day could feel, must feel like a bowl.
Wars, loves, trucks, betrayals, kindness,
it eats them.

Then the next day comes, spotless and hungry.

The bowl cannot be thrown away.
It cannot be broken.

It is calm, uneclipsable, rindless,
and, big though it seems, fits exactly in two human hands.

Bowls both give and receive – vessels both hold space and occupy space.  I hope to see you in Painting with Fire this year so we can continue this conversation!

♥Lyn

Patched up . . .

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I started this blog in its current form back in 2010 and it has become my invaluable journal of where the creative path has taken me. Recently, however, my SHARDS blog site completely crashed and I thought 15 years of entries and over 1000 posts were lost forever. Thanks to George Howard, a smart techie and highly-recommended good guy, we are patched up and running again. Sending you a shout-out, George!

I’m back just in time to share something lovely that Jude Hill wrote this morning –

“So what if I concentrate on story building with loose patches for a while? Language Patches is what I have come to call them.  They are simple and small and maybe you can play along?”

This is so much like what I’m doing with my new workshop, Scrolls and Surface, that I wanted to expand on the idea. The scrolls that I’m assembling as prototypes for the class are nothing more than a collection small “patches” of narrative. They go together in various ways, much like chapters in a book, and because they are small, they can be rearranged.

Here are a few examples – some of these are image transfers on fabric, some are what I call “fusion patches,” and some are handmade or found objects.

The images that I choose incorporate on these “patches” reflect my personal themes: neo-santos, shards, paradoxical connections, lost children, myth and mystery. Your images will be different just as your story is different.

Once you start working this way, creating small components that will ultimately go together as a larger picture, you’ll discover all kids of possibilities and combinations. It’s great composition practice, but more than that, it’s a lesson in how one element affects another.

Assorted combinations of fusion patches and transfers to fabric – are there stories here? Can they be rearranged to tell a different narrative?

It really is so much fun to lose yourself in this task. And it’s equally as much fun to actually create the patches using all kinds of experimental methods. Even when something doesn’t work, it’s a good lesson. Jane Dunnewold makes Citrasolv transfer look so easy – when I first tried it, I got blobs. But at least they were mysterious blobs.

A Mysterious Blob

I’m filming a lot of these experiences for a new online workshop called The Pilgrim’s Scroll: Stories in Paper and Cloth which should be ready in a couple of weeks.  In the meantime, it sure is great to have my blob – er, I mean, BLOG, back!

Thanks, Jude and George and all the people that help us stay connected and inspired!

 

Ephemera/Ephemeral

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I am thrilled to have had three works accepted for this exhibition — Ephemeral/Ephemera: A special exhibition of small encaustic and cold wax works on paper at Mulranny Arts in Mulranny, Ireland. October 10- November 15, 2023

Mulranny is where I taught this summer and it is such a special place. This is how the Call for Entries described the theme:

Ephemerality is a state that is deeply integral to the human experience. Moments, objects, and beings; all exist for a brief time and then disappear or transition to another state. We consider that which is ephemeral to be particularly fleeting, and a poignancy resides there. Closely related, ephemera are the bits and pieces of our lives (typically paper items) that were not intended to be preserved yet become the memorabilia that we keep to memorialize those meaningful but passing moments.

This is my first piece (above) and its description:

“This small work comes from a lifelong ephemeral dream of seeing my mother walking ahead of me in the fog when we lived in London when I was a child trying to catch up with her. I’m not sure where this dream came from because my mother was kind and caring and would never have walked away from me, but the dream persists.”

More about the Ephemeral Exhibition: Ephemeral/Ephemera will showcase works on paper that illuminate the concept of the ephemeral from an artist’s perspective, using wax as a primary medium. We invite national and international artists to consider how we experience ephemerality. Dreams, memories, chance encounters, nature, time, seasons, and even the nature of wax and paper itself are potential areas of exploration. What do we wish to hold on to, and what do we wish to let go of?

Here is my second piece, called “Wednesday’s Child” which is based on the photographs that Lewis Hine took of child labors in the US in the 1920’s. His photos ultimately changed the laws about allowing young children to work in fields and factories. I have been fascinated with these images for over a decade and return to them again and again.

More about Ephemeral Art: It is a transient form of artistic expression that exists briefly, often changing or disappearing over time. It encompasses various mediums, including street art, sand sculptures, and performance art. Ephemeral artists embrace impermanence, challenging traditional notions of art’s durability, and provoking viewers to appreciate the beauty and significance of the fleeting moment.

This third piece is called “Caged Memories,” and it expresses how difficult it is to hold onto the ephemeral beauty of lost moments, even if we try to bind them to our hearts.

All of this has me thinking about the whole idea of ephemeral impermanence and its influence on me and so many other artists. It is a first cousin to the idea of Wabi Sabi, which as you know is the Japanese aesthetic emphasizing beauty in imperfection, transience, and simplicity, finding elegance in natural flaws and the passage of time.

I suspect as we get older we both identify with and grapple with the idea of impermanence. Seeing the beauty in it is one way to come to terms and be a peace with it, to “find elegance in the passage of time.”

Here’s a good quote related to the complex idea of ephemerality and impermanence:

“If we don’t insist on defining impermanence as unsatisfactory, then it’s natural to celebrate. Just a moment’s pause to consider the passing of the seasons is enough to convince anyone that not only is impermanence the source of all possible joy in this life but it’s the movement of life itself.” ― Lin Jensen, Bad Dog!: A Memoir of Love, Beauty, and Redemption in Dark Places

It’s is a good topic for this Monday – a day of loss and memories. And this week will be gone before we know it! Quick, make some ephemeral art – it won’t last forever but it will shine in its moment!

Thanks, as always, for reading SHARDS.

A surprise gift for you that lights up!

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OK, so all of you who take my online workshops really DO light up my life. Your response to the Prayer Flag Sampler has been amazing. It reinforces my conviction that we all continue to need hope and optimism in the weeks ahead.

So here’s a new FREE workshop that I just finished. It’s based on an article that I wrote for Cloth Paper Scissors. Some of you have done this workshop in person at my studio and you know how much fun it is to create these simple, lovely votive lanterns.

I’ve spent the last few days making how-to videos of the process so everyone can learn to make them, and the new workshop, called Glowing Paper Votive Screens, is ready for you! You just need to join the school if you haven’t already, then scroll down to the enroll button, and you are in. No catch, no cost.

Offering these free workshops is one small way I can contribute to keeping us creative and inspired during this unbelievably challenging year. I’ve provided you with a materials list and some other resources as well as the video lessons.

By the way, those of you who have taken the free Lotus Book workshop will see it featured in the upcoming issue of Wax Fusion, International Encaustic Artists digital magazine very soon – I’ll be sure to give you that link when it’s available. I wrote the article to celebrate the joys of sharing a small project with many other artists, and some of the wonderful student work is featured. Over 200 people have already enrolled in that class – and my sister-in-law loves this project so much that she’s even opened an Etsy shop featuring her Lotus Books! Yay!

But your homework assignment right now is to sign up for the Glowing Paper Votive Screens workshop and get busy spreading some light around this sweet (but tired) old world.

Even if you’re not ready to start today, it is a self-paced class, ready for you when you are ready for it – but don’t wait too long. The holidays are coming soon, and these will make beautiful gifts and table adornments.

As always, thanks for all you do – trust yourself, trust the process, stay safe – and VOTE.

♥Lyn

 

Pretty Paper Pendant Pockets

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In the spirit of keeping calm, carrying on, and surviving all this together, I’ve created a new online workshop for you. It’s called Pretty Paper Pendant Pockets, and if you enjoyed the Lotus Book class, you’ll love this one.

And, yes, it’s free. This is another mixed-media/paper project from me to you that makes a beautiful gift for friends.

PS – there’s a bonus lesson on aromatherapy and creativity!

Here’s where to enroll

And here are more pictures –

Please be safe, and have a happy, creative weekend!

♥Lyn

 

Lifting spirits with little gifts of art

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Have you noticed that little gifts mean even more in tough times? I’m not sure I ever realized that before the “Age of COVID” smacked us all around and left everybody’s crystal balls all fogged up. But some things never change, like creative thoughtfulness.
When I published my new eBook, Postcards to Myself, I wrote it primarily for individual artists (beginners and seasoned) who needed an engaging method to discover, curate, and record their best techniques.

But those artists have taken the “postcard” idea and run with it.
I just got this note from one of them:
Just wanted to let you know that I really got caught up in your class “Postcards to Myself”.  I never really understood how to do collage until I took this class.  I was gathering quite the stack of them and finally decided to share them. 
I wrote words of inspiration on the Mat board before I started the collage.  I put them in envelopes and sent them out to friends and those who might be needing a little bit of encouragement during this pandemic. 
Creating the art helped me immensely!  I probably send out between 75 and 100 of them.  What fun I’ve had! Thanks for teaching the class!
Niki W.
Here’s Niki’s work table with postcards in progress:
This email was totally unexpected – and frankly, pretty exciting! Who wouldn’t want an actual piece of art in the mail? Niki, you are the best!
Another “giving” idea (from me to you) is my free workshop called The Lotus Book. Currently, there are 111 artists enrolled in that class, watching the instructional videos, and creating these art books. In the Lotus Book workshop, I encourage you to make these little journals a gifts for others.
Here are some emails and examples that artists have sent to show me what they’re doing:
Hi, Lyn,
I just finished my first lotus book! Thank you so much for a wonderful time, for sharing your creativity with all of us. Here are the pics.  Not the greatest, had to use a cat snoozie for a background and the light wasn’t quite right, but you’ll get the idea.Seems like a win-win during this Pandemic time. Stay safe! ~ Kate 
This book, from Anna, has such great pattern coordination – lucky someone, whoever gets this one!
And this note, from Carolyn, combines the Postcard book techniques with the Lotus Book! Brilliant!

 

Hi Lyn,
I’m having so much fun watching your classes and then working on the projects.  The first two photos are of the Lotus book.  I had cut out some 4×4 pieces from some scrap from the Postcards to Myself class and decided they would look great applied to a Lotus book.  The third photo is from the Postcards to Myself class but without the wax. They’re just the inspiration and distraction l needed. ~ Carolyn

 

My job in all of this is to encourage you to create with a purpose – creative thoughtfulness is a win-win.

 

Here’s the ink to the free Lotus Book workshop.

And here’s the link to the Postcard book – it’s not free but it’s  very affordable and will reward you will much gratitude fro your friends who are graced with your mail art!

 

Trust yourself, trust the process, and take good care this week –

 

Lyn

 

Here’s to YOU, Old Chap . . .

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Sorry about the corny title, but I wanted to share a little tutorial with you about how to make a chapbook journal.

Chapbooks by Lyn

I made the video for my friend Alexandria van de Kamp, Executive Director of Gemini Ink, San Antonio’s Literary Arts Center. She loved it and thought it might be a fun project for poets and writers. I thought that most artists could always use another small journal, too.

This one requires nothing more than 20 minutes and uses materials that you have already: paper, string, scissors, a glue stick, magazines or other collage stuff.

Here’s how to do it, Old Chap:

Video Link

And if you missed it on Facebook, here’s another helpful video (OK, so it’s a commercial for my eBook, Wax & Words) that will give you some composition tips that you can use on the cover of your chapbook.

Video Link

As I say in the chapbook tutorial, these little journals are so easy to make for yourself and for friends. Make several and record your cheery thoughts about quarantine, plague. . . . .oh, wait, never mind. We are artists! We create joy!

HERE ARE SOME QUOTES TO INSPIRE YOUR CHAPBOOK MUSINGS:

  • “Because most artists are ‘sensitive’ in every sense of the word, if you don’t take charge, negative emotion can ruin you.” (Gaye Adams)
  • “I am an optimist. It does not seem too much use being anything else.” (Winston Churchill)
  • “When asked if my cup is half-full or half-empty my only response is that I am thankful I have a cup.” (Sam Lefkowitz)

Stay safe, everyone – hope to see you soon! And dare I say, “May the Fourth be with you” ? ♥♥♥