#23 – Steffi, Shakti et moi

This is the story of a painting which was meant for a dear friend of mine, Steffi. Steffi actually started it, one afternoon when she was visiting and painted a kind of big reddish snake with lots of yellow on it. And said that I could just turn it into whatever I wanted.

Coloratura

So I picked it up, one Saturday afternoon, when I was in a mood to sing and launched into a colourful “coloratura” painting rush. Why “coloratura”? Because as I was painting, I started to sing opera arias, in a full-blown soprano voice – did I tell you that I absolutely love singing?

If you check out Wikipedia, it will tell you under “Coloratura“: The word is originally from Italian, literally meaning “coloring”, and derives from the Latin word colorare (“to color”). When used in English, the term specifically refers to elaborate melody, particularly in vocal music and especially in operatic singing of the 18th and 19th centuries, with runs, trills, wide leaps, or similar virtuoso-like material. Its instrumental equivalent is ornamentation. It is also now widely used to refer to passages of such music, operatic roles in which such music plays a prominent part, and singers of these roles.

I find it so appropriate for the painting and singing rush I was in when I created this layer:

“Too bright”

I intended to give the painting to Steffi on her birthday as it reminded me of her red mane and her big-hearted smile and fun and light-hearted side of her… but… in her extremely clear and direct, non-diplomatic way, the verdict was that it was “too bright” to her taste.

Ouch. That reminded me of the film “Amadeus” of Milos Forman in which Salieri and other Mozart’s critics say that in a piece that he has written “there are simply too many notes” – here’s the scene on YouTube. I was not pleased with that reaction. Not that I would compare myself to the unbelievable genius of Mozart – I am a great admirer of his. I simply felt misunderstood. This was my interpretation of Steffi and she did not like it. Too bright. Darn!

Steffi chose a much more subdued and intimate painting instead, that I painted just after this one. How interesting, isn’t it, that our tastes and ideas of other people’s tastes can be so different…

Here’s the painting that Steffi chose instead: #24 – Il s’est passé quelque chose that I have also commented on my next blog entry.

Steffi, Shakti and me

Back to the story of painting #23. In 2016, I have let much more of my shadows come to the fore in my paintings, allowing myself to feel dark feelings if there were some and also let myself accept the divine feminine energy or Shakti. Remember that snake that Steffi had painted to start with? Well, In Hinduism, Shakti can be personified as Kundalini or a coiled snake. The sleeping serpent-goddess is said to be coiled in the pelvis and can be awakened through spiritual practice, yoga being one of them. When awakened, the Kundalini rises up through the chakras until she reaches the head, transforming the individual along the way.

I wouldn’t say that I have experienced such a deep transformation, however, I have become aware that I can tap into this particularly grounded, earthy, powerful energy and allow much more authentic feelings such as anger or fear in myself.

Well, one day in July 2016, as I was feeling particularly fiery, I took that painting and gave it a radical transformation. Full of serpent-like uncompromising energy, I took some black and white paint and allowed my frustration to express itself on the canvas. I deeply felt my anger at having been judged for expressing myself “too brightly” and gave birth to that version of “Steffi, Shakti and me”… with a deep sense of peace coming over me after finalising the painting, splashing fluid blue paint to round it up.

Today, it still feels very good that I was also able to let go so freely and make the painting even more powerful in the end.

Et Voilà! This is the result. Steffi, Shakti … and me.