Something Has Been Shifting

Lately, I’ve felt something shifting in me.

Not in a dramatic, life changing kind of way. It feels much quieter than that.

More like I’m becoming aware of something that perhaps has always been there.

I’ve never considered myself religious, and I still don’t. But I have always believed there is more to this life than what we can physically see.

Energy. Spirit. Connection. Whatever name we choose to give it.

I believe there is something that connects us to each other, to nature, to the people we have loved and lost, and to something much greater than ourselves.

For a long time, these were simply thoughts I carried quietly.

But lately, I’ve been paying more attention to them.

Maybe it was always there

I think we spend so much of our lives looking outward.

We search for happiness. We search for purpose. We search for signs that we are heading in the right direction.

We want to know what comes next.

And I’m beginning to wonder whether some of the things we spend our lives searching for are already here.

Maybe we’re just too busy to notice them.

There are moments when I feel it most strongly.

Standing somewhere in nature and suddenly noticing the light.

Looking across water.

Watching the sky change colour.

Hearing a piece of music that seems to reach somewhere much deeper than thought.

Or simply sitting quietly enough that, for a moment, the noise inside my head disappears.

Nothing extraordinary has happened.

And yet somehow, everything feels extraordinary.

The studio has become part of this

Painting has always given me access to a quieter part of myself.

When I first began painting seriously, I don’t think I understood that.

I just knew I needed to paint.

Over time, I started to recognise what was happening to me in the studio.

The repetition of the marks. The movement of my hand. The music. The hours disappearing without me noticing.

There comes a point when I stop consciously deciding where every mark should go.

Something takes over.

I’m not thinking about what happened yesterday or what needs to happen tomorrow. I’m not worrying about whether the painting will work.

I’m simply there.

And for someone whose mind can be incredibly noisy, those moments are precious.

Painting became my meditation long before I ever thought to call it that.

Following something I can’t quite explain

There are times when I walk into the studio with an idea of what I’m going to create and the painting takes me somewhere completely different.

I’ve learned not to fight that as much anymore.

There is a kind of surrender involved in making art.

You begin with an intention, but eventually you have to loosen your grip on it.

You have to listen.

Sometimes I feel as though I am following something rather than creating something.

I know that might sound strange.

I don’t really know where that instinct comes from, and perhaps I don’t need to.

That is part of what has been shifting for me.

I’m becoming less interested in explaining everything.

Less interested in having an answer.

And more interested in paying attention.

Becoming quiet enough to notice

Maybe spirituality doesn’t always need to be something enormous.

Maybe it can simply be presence.

The feeling of the sun on your skin.

A song arriving at exactly the right moment.

The landscape suddenly looking so beautiful that you stop what you’re doing.

The strange feeling that someone you have lost is somehow still close.

A moment of peace when your mind has been anything but peaceful.

Maybe these tiny moments are the things we should be noticing.

I think that is what I am trying to capture in my paintings too.

Not a particular landscape or place.

A feeling.

That moment when something inside you becomes quiet.

That little pause between thoughts.

The sense that beneath all the rushing, worrying, striving and trying to work everything out, there is still something gentle waiting for us.

Maybe the light was always there.

Maybe we just have to become quiet enough to see it.

Natalie x