By DANIELLE REYNOLDS
This post was written as an assignment for Professor Cindy Shearer’s CIA 7091, Interdisciplinary Arts Workshop. As part of a community of artists working across art perspectives, students in this course get the chance to present their work and teach each other about their art form(s), practice, lineage and influences, and are challenged to inquire into the interdisciplinary arts as well as forms new to them.
The autumn sun everywhere is unique to me. The air is comfortable with a touch of chill. When the fall rays hit my skin, I feel cleansed. It feels so warm, so nurturing and gentle. I never want to leave it. I never want to go in the shadow. I want to stay in its glow.
The fall sun is powerful and transformative. I get lost in the light. Autumn in itself has always seemed to me a season of surrender. The leaves gracefully fall down for a soft landing. The rains come down with a pitter-patter, washing the land. Animals gather and store up food for a long winter. Humans put on extra layers and spend more time indoors.
Personally, fall has often been an invitation for an inner surrender, too. And that's what I'm feeling—Letting go of the familiar and comfortable for a chance to be led through winter, with the hope that on the other side is a seedling, bursting forth from the fertile spring ground.
As I delve more into the Creative Inquiry program, I’m trying to remember that it does take a while for a seed to germinate, sprout, and become a mature plant.
While I struggle with what it means for me to be an artist—from understanding my aesthetic, experimenting with other mediums, and defining my values—my intention is to be the observer in this growing process, to be patient, and delight in the unfolding.
So, as I bask in the warm sun I remember that change is coming everywhere. But for that change there must be a stillness, an honest inquiry, and a will to grow from this surrender.
Because to grow, you just have to allow yourself to be rooted in your environment and to stay in the light.