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!
Wow, Lyn! I am awed by your instinct, creativity, talent, faith, & passion. What a “roots & wings” gift your dad bestowed on you & your brothers. How lucky you were to know you could always find your way home. Witnessing (& directly benefiting from) your artistic journey & generosity is a gift. “Thank you” is too small & simple an acknowledgement of the deep gratitude I feel, but it is genuinely heartfelt.
Joy, you have the gift of heartfelt expression – thank you so much for this. Gratitude back!
Oh so love this. I am thinking I may put aside my current focus and join you on this journey. My head is spinning.
Art is my sky…
The idea of a magical father who is a navigator, maps and mysterious equipment is incredible. It’s so very Phillip Pullman! I can’t imagine. The lodestars in our lives- the constants… and if we don’t have magical fathers in our lives, there is always our reliable, twinkling, illuminating art. I love love love this post. I am saving it and keeping it as my own map for future reference.
Nadine, it doesn’t surprise me that you mentioned Phillip Pullman – his books have always guided me with some absolute truths. This is one of his quotes that I keep on my computer on a stick note:
“We’ll be alive again in a thousand blades of grass, and a million leaves; we’ll be falling in the raindrops and blowing in the fresh breeze; we’ll be glistening in the dew under the stars and the moon out there in the physical world, which is our true home and always was.”
There is room in the Spirit Ship for you, Sue!! ♥♥♥
What a wonderfully inspirational and heartwarming post!
Gaye, I’m so glad you liked it – we need to stick together and help guide each other!
Dear Lyn,
With appreciation and gratitude for your insights, instinct, and memory. Janet
Janet, it’s always wonderful to hear from you. Thanks so much for your gracious comment.
Wonderful ♥️
Caleb, thanks so much for taking the time to reply!!
What a beautiful story and tribute to your father.
Leslie, you of all people know how important our parents are – ♥
So wonderful, Lyn. I think most people of a certain age can recall, as can I, laying on a blanket and gazing at the night sky to find constellations. Your story brings back fond memories. Thanks for that I am in need of some peaceful pictures in my mind.
Sandra, yes!! I hope that you can find a blanket and some clear and peaceful sky tonight and find the North Star. ♥
At first, the vessel looked like plastic. Then I thought it was handmade paper. In the end, the vessel came together beautifully. I picked up some very small, strawlike bowls in Wegmans supermarket, that I plan to cover in encaustic. Thank you for your story.
Let us know how that turns out!!
Beautiful! Thank you!
Thanks, Lizbeth – we all need to keep a steady course these days ♥
I so loved this (((Lyn))). Your work and your words here are truly inspiring. Thank you for putting feelings into words for us all…. a beautiful gift that you possess. I feel honored that you’ve shared them with me this morning. Have a wonderful time in Ireland this summer. I look forward to your next newsletter.
Oh, thank you Joyce – I am honestly so honored that you read and responded – it’s affirming and connective. ♥
In the beginning, the vessel looked like a plastic hull. Then I thought it was made of handmade paper. In the end, the vessel came together beautifully. I picked up some very small, strawlike bowls in Wegmans supermarket, that I plan to cover in encaustic. Thank you for your story.
You create beauty as much with your words as with your physical objects.
Arwen, I could say exactly the same for your words! You can weave magic with them!! I’m loving your Substack writings. xo
Of course, my Sea Sisters love this theme of navigation by the stars…and I love your memories of your dad and how beautifully now you can sense his presence guiding you even more. Thanks for sharing this bit of your heart!
Your Sea Sisters know more than anyone about celestial navigation! It’s a good metaphor for all of us, I think – sending love. ♥
Great Dads are so important to their daughters and sons. They teach us so much about the journey and navigation , mine as a beekeeper showed me an intimate way to relate to the tiniest creatures in nature and how we all belong if we take the time to notice. The vessel of a beehive has always captivated me. Complete universe but it still must venture out to connect and collect to survive.
And the beehive gives us the beloved beeswax that we use in our encasustic art – it’s a perfect example, Marian – you are always so wise.♥
Lovely! As Alcott wrote, “I am not afraid because I am learning to steer my own ship.”
Wonderful quote!! Sounds like something that Jo would have said. 🙂
So looking forward to learning from you.
We will have a wonderful time exploring!! ♥
This is such a special remembrance. My dad died last September, and I am designing an embroidery project to depict the house where he was born and the large spring on the property we kids played in during the family reunions held there. He was a helpful navigator in my life as well. I am trying to figure a way to cut a snippet from the quilt his mother handmade for him when he left home to include in my vessel when we make them in Ireland. Thank you for sharing your beautiful writing.
This is a brilliant idea – there are so many ways to incorporate small snippets of fabric – I love this, Melanie. You must miss him so much.
I am so looking forward to our trip!
So beautifully worded! Thank you for helping me determine navigational tools of my own. I am always enthralled with the words AND you art.
Lisa, you have always been guided by your love of nature – it sets your life cycles and your optimistic outlook – you are amazing. ♥
Beautifully written and so touching and connecting Thank you for sharing this amazing inspiration Lyn
Bosha
Thanks, dear Bosha – you have been with me on my journey for a long time – I haven’t told this story before and am so glad it resonated with you.
Just Beautiful.
Thanks so much, Diane – glad you liked it. 🙂
Lyn, your words are a beautiful poem, a collage of words. Thank you for finding the meaning in your fragments thus helping me to find my own.
Awww, Mary – thanks for that connection of words and images and collage – xoxoxo
Thanks for the lovely tribute to your father and his lasting gift to you.
Thank you, Tanya! I am lucky!
Thank you Lynn,
Robin and I read this, and both enjoyed your connection to your father and his wisdom in sharing this long forgotten process of being guided by the stars. Robin commented that he is excited to see how this influences our creativity and creation of our vessels from this perspective of our own childhoods. Thanks for sharing this, beautifully written.
Elizabeth, thank you!! Your idea of childhood connections is perfect – I remember how much personal richness you brought to your Wanderers – and you both are natural storytellers. I am eternally grateful to both of you for joining me on this journey!!
❤️❤️❤️
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