Art as Meditative Honouring


In year 9 at school, my English teacher (one of my favourite teachers ever, actually) showed us a movie called Blade Runner, which was already 6 years old then, but gaining big traction as a cult classic. We studied the movie for class, all of us sitting around a TV-on-wheels borrowed from the audio-visual department (small by today's TV standards, but considered pretty cutting edge then), absorbed by a gritty, dark film, the VHS tape already a little worn. I adore that movie, but oh man, from first watch I fell in love. Hard. With Rutger Hauer. Yes, and the character Roy Batty, sure, but more so with the actor that played him (and everything my 14 year old self imagined him to be).

He was the most beautiful man I'd ever seen, and in that young-woman-falling-in-love-with-her-first-superstar-kind-of-love way, he still is. My heart hurt more than a little when I heard he'd left us. And so I honored him and the impact he had on me the best I could, thinking only of him and the roles I have seen him play while I spent 90 minutes scribbling the gorgeous lines of his beautifully aged face.

I see this sort of study as a meditative honouring. While I am engaged in a purposeful and intense study of a subject I am completely present, and I am worshiping that subject in the literal sense of the word, the feeling or expression of reverence and adoration. I am bestowing honour upon them. This is one of the most important, indeed necessary, aspects of my creative practise, leaving me feeling energised but calm rather than intense or frustrated or exhausted. And, just like putting pencil to paper, it is a practise, it is not (ever) perfect, but my skills strengthen with each successive attempt. There is growth, and in all endeavours, what more can we hope for.

I hope you enjoy this little time-lapse. Thank you for all you did to inspire and entertain Mr Hauer.