Nature is our untold teacher.
The seed that is embedded in the ground is transformed into this beautiful plant with the help of the gleaming sun. On the days where light does not burn so brightly, streaks of rain assist its growth. Occasionally, the strong wind strips petals and bends stems. Unable to withstand this force, the delicate stem snaps and collapses onto the ground. Whilst the wind appears as a plant's nemesis, it is what wraps around pollen and seeds, and carries them through the air. Sooner or later, a new set of plants begin to prosper.
Despite nature's capability to destruct, it carries many heartening concepts, including peace, growth and beauty. This range arises from nature's diversity - from dainty daisies to the towering mountains. Whilst this variety amazes me, I find it more intriguing how the glistening sun, tough wind and light rain can be a representation of our behaviour and our emotions.
Just as colours have the ability to provoke emotions, nature has the ability to remind us that it is ok to undergo this variety of emotions but ultimately, to find peace within ourselves.
Thinking carefully about how I can bring this connection between nature and human behaviour into my artwork, I started to picture the merging of patterns and portraits in mind. To configure this initial idea, I searched for reference images and that is when I found Wagara.
Unaware of this title and intrigued by its resemblance to nature, I started reading and became awed by its simplicity and meaning.
Wagara. This is the term referring to Japanese patterns. By looking at several examples it is clear that they are largely influenced by natural phenomena, animals and plants.
Amongst the examples I came across, the pattern Seigaiha, translating to 'blue ocean waves', sparked a thought. Where I have spoken about nature, I have mentioned flowers, wind and the sun but have forgotten the deep sea. Whilst, this was a consequence of living in an environment complied with buildings that extended down to the very end of the road, occasional green spaces and busy roads, I had put away the chill, yet calmness brought by waves moving me effortlessly.
Where this pattern was originally used to depict the sea on Chinese maps, it acts as a symbol for good luck and peace in Japan. The series of smaller arches emerging into larger ones can represent the infinite spread of energy. Ultimately without this transfer of energy surrounding waves can not progress and so, to me the concept of sharing and togetherness is also found within this pattern.
In 1903, Mori Yuzan, a Japanese artist, published a guide titled Hamonshu. This three-volume series includes a variety of wave and ripple designs. It's fascinating how these designs rely on the arrangement of thin lines and surrounding space to illustrate the different wave motions. It was only through attempting several designs, I could understand the complexity involved in using lines with consistent width and building this concept of movement through a drawing.
My interest in using colour within my artwork pulled me to experiment with watercolours. Whilst this is not my go-to medium, the free-flowing lines that can be achieved with watercolours convinced me that this will reinforce the concept of moving water.
As I moved my brushed in the direction of the swayed lines, I was able to appreciate how the lines act together - despite the minute separations that allowed each stream to act on its own. This unexpected appreciation for watercolours was more than the medium and in fact to do with the idea of flexibility. Holding the brush lightly in my fingertips, the colours pressed down onto the page effortlessly and I felt this sudden urge to explore the merging of yellow and blue tones. This flexibility associated with using a brush as opposed to pen left me eager to revisit watercolours.
Just as it felt important to acknowledge the meaning behind these traditional patterns, its origin seemed essential to broaden my knowledge of Japanese culture. Wagara originates from the Heian period - around the 9th and 10th century of Japan. This period holds significant achievements, namely the creation of Japanese writing, Kana - which adopts Chinese characters, mostly phonetically. This attainment allowed the production of the world's first novel, The Tale of Genji by Murasaki Shikibu. Her novel speaks for the flourishing of women's writing during this period.
Many women were limited to studying subjects such as poetry, music and calligraphy - in order to appear attractive to men. Subjects including history, law and philosophy were regarded as off-limits. Just at this moment, I remembered the anger that filled through me as I encountered The Laws of Manu, a sacred Hindu text, and its teachings on the roles of women in society. Knowing that discrimination faced by many women today is a product of these deeply rooted cultural beliefs left me feeling frustrated - and distant from that state of calmness.
I started to understand that like ripples in the sea and slow-moving waves developing into larger ones, we must transfer our compassionate anger into conversations around this bias and build this energy to overlook particular cultural beliefs.
Eager to act on my initial idea of portraiture and patterns representing the sea, I started drawing.
As I completed the drawing above I started to convince myself that overlapping patterns would be a terrible idea. However, in the back of my mind, I knew that this was the product of feeling afraid of ruining the portrait.
Ultimately, I decided to trust that feeling of satisfaction of using watercolours and set out to overlap patterns governed by Yuzan's designs.
Placing the brush aside, I gently smiled, and I thought I did that.
With nature encircling us, we are almost always guided to challenge, learn and bloom - regardless of which bleak wind or crashing wave that presses against us.
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