The Other Side of the Sketchbook
Welcome to the first little ramble from the A’Mused blog cauldron — a space where I’ll be stirring together musings on art, spirit, devotion, and the weird magic that bubbles up between the cracks.
Some posts will be stories. Some might be reflections or behind-the-scenes peeks at my process. Some might just be me yelling about how cool a particular charm set feels in my hand.
But I wanted to start here — at the edge of the sketchbook — where one of the most surprising parts of my creative path began…
Drawing ghosts.
As one might rightfully assume, I'm often asked how I do what I do.
The "why" is the easy part. Designing and creating a new kind of devotional jewelry was the plan as soon as I did what most have done and came up empty handed when searching for sleek, minimal jewelry that's quietly packed with intention.
I had never even considered drawing spiritual or channeled portraits as a possibility so it makes sense that I'm asked "how?"
Well, to know how, you have to know me and how I view the thin veil between the seen and unseen a little bit better.
Hi. I'm Kara. Maker of things. Mother of babes. Creator of A'Mused. Portrait Artist.
Sometimes I like to think of myself as a divine translator annd other times I like to think of myself as a delusional entrepreneur. Either way you swing it, the fact remains that I can't explain a lot of the things I create, however others have been able to explain them to me.
Some have been able to explain how the portrait I made looks just like their grandfather, some have been able to explain that a portrait looks just like their mother and still others have explained that my drawing looks exactly how they picture a deity in their mind, one they'd never actually seen with their waking eyes before I shared my art with them.
Lately I've been trying to come up with a good way of explaining this phenomenon to myself and what I've come up with is this:
It’s a collaboration.
No, really. That’s not just a poetic way to say it. My art is literally a team effort — between me and whatever divine, spirited, or weirdly insistent presence decides to show up. I don’t consider myself a pencil for the divine. I’m not just a hand waiting to be moved.
I’m a student — learning to see and speak in more than one language.
The language of form, shape and energy. The language of “...wait, was that a horn?” and "how many teeth do you HAVE?"
Spirit can show me whatever they like — an impression, a face, a scene, a symbol — and my page might still just look like splotchy grey pigment to anyone else. But through years of practice, intuition, and frankly a lot of trial and error, I’ve learned to recognize patterns in the grey matter. Paired with this spiritual or psychic ability, I’ve also built up the artistic skill to translate what I sense into what others see. (Portrait drawing is a skill to be practiced and honed, not just a gift that some inherently have. Even the most gifted artists need to practice their art to get better.)
It’s not an exact science and of course there’s no amount of perfectionism that will help the drawing look the way I know it’s right… I have nothing to compare it to. This isn’t about perfection. Hair might come out longer. A nose might change. The eyes might shift halfway through. That’s okay. That’s part of the process.
I’m the translator, not the photocopier, and I’m tasked with speaking in a visual language that makes sense to me — which is often human, because, well… I am one. Humanity is my preferred language after all. I’m learning to speak others, though.
The notion of my practice being a collaborative effort between me (the autonomous human being with free will and choice) and other worldly beings (who show me what they want to show me and then let me work out how best to translate it) was a tiny revelation in the grand scheme of things, but it has helped me understand my process and my art so much more completely.
This practice lives at the edge of things.
Between seen and unseen. Between the technical and the intuitive. Between the sketchbook and the Other Side.
Thank you for being here, walking that wibbly wobbly line with me and sharing you energy and excitement along the way.
