Clarity about my process of becoming, creating art, and playing music.
My process begins in stillness—the kind taught by Hexagram 52, the Mountain within a Mountain: or within the Ein Sof, and with the ever infinite indwelling female spirit, a mystery in stillness that is not empty, but generative. In this stillness, I attune myself to a deeper rhythm, one that moves not with time, but with presence. It is here that the painting begins, not with an image or concept, but with a felt sense—an emergence from the quiet.
From this inner ground, gestures arise like breath. The canvas becomes a living surface, holding tension between what is known and what is only barely perceived. I do not seek to control this process, but to participate in its unfolding, led by pulses of energy that hint at ancient codes and unseen patterns, as Jung might refer to as the collective unconscious.
In this space, I work toward Coniunctio—the alchemical union of opposites. The organic and geometric entwine; stillness meets movement; the conscious self opens to the unconscious field. Through layering and dissolution, the work becomes a site of alchemical marriage: feminine and masculine, chaos and order, all merging in an act of sacred becoming. My true work happens in the movement, (or as Pollack refers to “the action”) whether through the vibration caused by the strumming or picking of strings or the ink and brush intersecting with the surface. The finished painting is not the art—it is the residue, the echo, the exhale. The creativity is in the act of becoming.
Here enters the Shekinah—not only as a symbol of the divine feminine but as the indwelling presence within the act of creation itself. Her presence hovers in the liminal space between intention and revelation, in the glowing edge where form dissolves. She is the breath in the silence, the fire in the pulse, the touch on the strings and brush.
And behind even this—beyond symbol, beyond name—Ein Sof, the Infinite, offers a backdrop of ungraspable mystery. It is from this infinite mystery that the work draws its depth. Each mark is an echo of what cannot be fully known but longs to be felt.
What emerges is not a finished statement, outcome or product, but —an invitation into the mystery, where viewers are asked not to interpret, but to inhabit. Each piece invites the viewer to approach the painting not as a thing, but as a threshold—an invitation to stand before the piece as before a mountain, or a flame, to encounter their own stillness, to be within the mystery.
This is my practice: to become still enough to listen, open enough to receive, and bold enough to follow where the current leads.
Art by Kate W 