Like a lot of us, I’ve been rather quiet lately. Contemplating the quantum shifts in our society has me unsettled, and I’m finding it hard to be inspired. It’s a “one foot in front of the other” feeling, still moving forward, but rather unsteadily.
I asked our Enso Circle discussion group about this and about how we react as art makers. Vanessa said, “I think the ‘comfort art’ theme has emerged and it’s absolutely worthy of sharing. . . . I’ve been mulling over the pieces I made and in some form I definitely made them out of trying to feel comforted. Self-care, galvanizing oneself, knowing we’re in this cycle and have to battle through to the other side. I think what we are creating is a reflection of what most of us feel on a global level.”
I realize that I’ve instinctively turned to “comfort art” that allows me to retreat into familiar, well-practiced techniques or styles in order to relieve anxiety and stress, to lose myself in the the meditative and reassuring aspect of my process.
What comfort art for me is probably not what it is for you, but I will tell you what mine is. To figure mine out, I actually looked at the work on my own website for themes and techniques that made me feel centered.
My mixed media work often blends intuitive assembly, encaustic layers, and vintage or mythographic imagery. These elements suggest that my “comfort art” might be tied to the act of layering, storytelling, and working with familiar materials like wax, fabric, and photographic elements. The act of letting a story emerge naturally, as I have often described, is engrossing and satisfying.
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- Encaustic layering: The tactile nature and forgiving medium provide soothing familiarity.
- Storytelling through fragments: Assembling materials that resonate intuitively, allowing my beloved natural narrative style to flow.
- Using words as design: Incorporating text aligns with my comfort in blending visual and verbal creativity.
You might notice that the words are created with the same vintage children’s stamps that I used on the story banners that I described in my last post. Instead of stamping the words onto fabric, I stamped them into the wax. There is comfort in using old tools, simple tools, to convey the simplest of needs for a journey, like food and books. And simple words can also convey a sense of home – little sheep and chickens and a house.
Here is the narrative behind this piece (I included it in the submission form for the juried exhibition):
And then the wise woman said, “We are all children of immigrants, you know, each of us trying to find our way back to a place we once called home. Maybe it was far away, across rivers and mountains, or maybe it was just down the road in a small house with chickens pecking in the yard and sheep grazing on the hillside. We are all wanderers, searching for that lost warmth, that sense of belonging where the air smells like freshly baked bread and the laughter of loved ones fills the evening sky.”
The young ones gathered around her, listening as she continued. “In every one of us lives a memory, whether faint or clear, of a place where love was as steady as the sunrise, where hands worked together, and everyone had a purpose. That home is not just a place—it’s a feeling, an inheritance passed down in the stories we carry, the recipes we know by heart, the songs we hum when we’re alone. Our journey is to rebuild that warmth, to cultivate it like a garden, so that we might one day sit by the fire and say, ‘Yes, we are home at last.'”
When I finished this piece, I felt a profound sense of satisfaction and peace. It was like coming home after a long day—a sense of returning to something that’s steady, familiar, and deeply personal. . The process was familiar and I didn’t have to agonize about how to make it work – it just flowed.
Finding your comfort art is about identifying the practices, materials, and approaches that feel like “home” to you as an artist. These are the things you instinctively turn to when you want to create without pressure, when you just don’t want to venture outside the box for a little while.
I would like to talk more about this idea of comfort art in my next post and discuss ways that you might find your own materials or methods that you naturally reach for when you need to feel grounded, when you are trying to find your way back to a place you once called home.
More soon, take good care, thanks for reading.
Thank you. This is incredibly helpful to me. The arm wax is also a comfort zone for me, as is mark making and photographic imagery.
Yes! There is something about it that joins us to an unseen community! Human marks, human images – thank you, Nancy.
I love this idea, Lyn. My response to our country’s situation has been not to do any art. I like your response better. It’s time to pull out those supplies that have kept me in good stead through the years. Thanks for this post.
I look forward to the next one.
It’s so hard, Cindy – but doing what you love and do well is good for both you and the rest of us who love your work.
You spoke to my heart…my heart listened…I am also finding the comfort in reading and using my familiar tools to bring a sense of peace to myself…Thank you dear Lyn for this beautiful post…blessings sent to you…
Thank you, Patricia – you are such a wonderful example to all of us with your powerful and endearing images – blessings right back to you, dear friend.
Likewise, my creativity has been stunned by recent events. Struggling to not be silenced by what I cannot control; I picked up a piece of previously dyed fabric knowing deep down I needed to keep my hands busy to comfort my head…
Gauzy cotton, backed with muslin, I began to stitch what I saw. It is still evolving but the theme has become clearer as my hands follow the pattern’s lead. Infinity figure 8’s and a heart. Telling me soothingly that love conquers all and always will.
Just this simple act of quiet stitching starts to comfort my quacking heart.
Long live handwork!
Beautiful words,Lyn. Words that we really need at this time.
I reach for yarn for my comfort zone. Yarn enables me to make comfort for someone else, whether it’s a baby blanket, prayer shawl, warm hat or an afghan. I love making something for someone else to have some comfort.
Peggy, this is beautiful – you are a good nurturer in so many ways. Send you a grateful hug — ♥
Beautiful art and story, much to ponder.
Thank you Lyn.
Thank you, Becky – ♥♥
I’ve returned to fiber arts. Following a pattern (knitting) is not particularly creative, but occasional spinning, weaving and choosing colors is. Still, knitting and felting is comforting suits me ATM. Have Not been into gourds this past year…
There is something about fiber art – those story banners I’ve been making feel right to me. And following a pattern is an act of meditation, like counting rosary beads – good for you, Kathleen.
I can relate to the feeling of creating being comforting. It is my therapy.
Yes, we are making something beautiful or meaningful that didn’t exist before.
Lyn, what you have written here is so richly layered with evocative imagery and heart. As I read, tears gathered and spilled, washing and healing, stirring such emotion. Old memories, found memories, the search for meaning churning up so much! And at last, the heart on fire! Feeling profound gratitude, and a kind of safe assurance that here is where we will uncover our new way forward. ❤️
Ann, thank you beyond words – I love what you said at the end – “a kind of safe assurance that here is where we will uncover our new way forward.” You are so wise, as always – sending love.
Oh, Lyn, there are so many things in this article that I and I suspects many, many others need to be hearing right now: A reminder that sometimes it’s not about our grand plan to do a series of (fill in the blank) that’s been stalled for years or trying to fulfill the “promise” family & teachers saw in us so many years ago. But that sometimes it’s about the simple but soul fulfilling pleasure, even necessity of making those organic connections between thought, feeling, heart & hand into image. How wonderful to invite words to pick up that stream and enrich image into story.
Thank you so much, dear Lyn, Wizardess of Art, Creation & Love.
Gloria, that is perfect – ” it’s not about our grand plan to do a series of (fill in the blank) that’s been stalled for years or trying to fulfill the “promise” family & teachers saw in us so many years ago. But that sometimes it’s about the simple but soul fulfilling pleasure” – many thanks for that. On foot in front of another, one stitch, one brushstroke 🙂
Powerful, grounded, global ,home, these are the words that spilled out on reading this Lyn. Thanks for stirring my own thoughts on what comfort art is for me! Probably similar but more introverted and less global , I like the thought of
“When I finished this piece, I felt a profound sense of satisfaction and peace. It was like coming home after a long day—a sense of returning to something that’s steady, familiar, and deeply personal. . The process was familiar and I didn’t have to agonize about how to make it work – it just flowed. “
To me this is the Enso Circle at its best!
Agreed, Marian, and the power of community everywhere is that we know we are not alone in the need to return to something that’s steady, familiar, and deeply personal. So glad that you and I are in this together!
Beautiful words – Beautiful work – Beautiful lady
Aww, Sue, thanks – you know, I thought of your small pieces in that wonderful series you had in your exhibit – that’s such a moving example of daily practice as comfort and ritual.
Loved reading your words as much as I love taking your classes. Thank you for sharing!!!
Verni, dear friend, thank you so much for being on this long journey with me!!
Thank you Lyn for words and stories which touch the heart. I’m working with imagery from the Medieval world and draw comfort from knowing that sparks of humanity and love did not become extinct during those catastrophic times, so much like our own. Blessings to you.
Mairim, yes! This is so profound: “I’m working with imagery from the Medieval world and draw comfort from knowing that sparks of humanity and love did not become extinct during those catastrophic times.” Humans are resilient, and the long view helps us hold out hope!
“Comfort Art”! I love this concept, Lyn, as it perfectly describes what I’m intuitively doing these days. A few years ago, after my nephew died, I poured my self and my incredible sadness into “Grief Gardening” as I had a deep need to dig in the earth — to uproot and disrupt — to fertilize, sow, tend and nurture, and then to delight in the abundant and beautiful new growth. Over the course of that season, my grief transformed into thanksgiving.
Earlier this year, my younger brother died under very horrific and questionable circumstances (I’ll spare you the details) and this time my grief journey has brought me to Comfort Art. More specifically, to encaustic art. Aside from trying my hand at photography and digital art in my retirement, I am not a formally trained artist and knew nothing about encaustic art prior to this past August (2024).
I am enthralled with this medium and love absolutely everything about it. Nothing brings me more comfort, more peace, or more pleasure than spending time in my studio and working with encaustic medium/paint and fire. To me, this medium/art form is very sacred/spiritual. It’s meditative. It calls something forth in me — from my heart and soul. It beckons. It invites. It asks me to stretch, to reach, to bend, to observe, to listen, to imagine, to appreciate.
It’s a kind of homecoming — a centering within myself — where I can be with my deep grief and still seek beauty; where I can cry and sing; where I can fuse all the layers of this wonderful life into the singular being that is me.
It’s as humbling as it is fulfilling.
Joy, I have been following your wonderful work on PWF, and you have absolutely found your creative home – it’s wonderful to see how the encaustic process resonates with you and your aesthetic. Your words are beautiful, as well – I’m grateful for you 🙂
That is beautiful Lyn. Thank you!
Thank you, Jay, and thank you for the joy and comfort your art brings to us!!
today is the first day in many days,months even that I have brought myself remotely close to art. First by doing a few journal pages,next watching a few videos and now catching up on your blog posts.My heart has been aching both for our country and for the feelings of home you wrote about. I have felt so disconnected. Reading your warm words has started the healing my heart and soul needs. I am headed back into my art studio to continue on with some more art journaling,self care journaling.
We are bound by the same red thread and we feel and empathize with one another,our art sisters.
I look forward to your next writings Lyn
Beautiful and heartwarming, Lynn. This piece touched my heart! I understand where you are coming from. I hope this meaningful piece becomes a class. Merry Christmas to you and your family.
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somehow I missed this when you first wrote it, but better late than never
“each of us trying to find our way back to a place we once called home” is both a description and a prescription for what ails us … home for me is the simplest stitching worked before a south-facing window, the sun warming my shoulders as I turn to keep my shadow over my work, the better to see each stitch
thank you for creating this safe space to visit and be comforted by kindred spirits … may all be well