Join me monthly for Zoom gathering around the studio table.
Encaustic here; where you are, what you do.
Each month will begin from a common theme or prompt and grow from there.
The intention is to gather-virtually mind you-to grow individual practice through the energy and inspiration of the group gathering.
This way of meeting has proven vital in my own practice and I hope you can see the value it will add to your own creative exploration as well.
Because it is much about consistency, I encourage commitment to the entire year, but I understand conflicts of timing so therefore offer monthly ticket options as well.
I hope to see you ‘here’. It would be a very good thing~
in love.
trish
*Gathering every second Monday and third Thursday, noon-2ish Eastern time zone. September 14, 17, October 12, 15 November 9, 19, and December 7, 10.
**2021 dates running through Patreon. Find me there, here! https://www.patreon.com/pbsartist
Why We Gather
There is still yet a small, charged opening between heaven and earth.
I feel it when my fingertips grasp the brush handle, raise it from the paint, and move color to the canvas.
This color lights a pathway that has been traveled for eons by cells, by skin, by souls.
There are not many I would go into battle with or for.
I do not believe-if believe is even required in this example-in war. Nor battling either. But sometimes, the metaphor suits.
The hearts that soften, melt, over the energy cables that connect them to me, and me to them.
As we gather, doing the same, yet in each our own way and time. Paint.
Bring brush to canvas.
Wrap our fingertips into plaster and clay.
Together.
This is a battle I willingly enter into; to be trained with these, to lift up integrity and truth over the atmospheres of the worlds.
Ours first, each: Then art: Then, beyond our own reckoning.
If you stay still long enough you can feel it. The door between heaven and earth stands ajar; just.
There is still time. Take up your sword and follow me through. Heaven is calling; it rains down on earth.
I stand with mine; I enter into battle with these. But not a battle of waring; one of breaking seemingly frozen hearts and steeled minds.
Only my paintbrush is needed for this war.
And in the next town over, in the house down the block, they take up pen, hoe, or set of keys.
They set out with their comrades to the left and to the right. These swords, their swords, held high to commence the battle.
My world; paintbrush. Their worlds; these swords.
Alone and together, enmeshed, stepping into the charged opening between heaven and earth, we bring down what is ours to plant in this soil, our time, to nourish the future.
Let’s take up the sword we have in our hand, and join together to create what is now raining down.
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