The power of three
“Of course, you are the third one! I can’t believe I didn’t think of it sooner…”
The words were Gina van Hoof’s, art therapist, photographer, artist and most of all deeply spiritual person. We met through the internet forum of an online course we both took (as these things go, in this odd world we now call normal), but our initially digital contact was able to move into the tangible world, as Gina turned out to have set down roots in Brussels, after many years of creative roaming across the globe. Our mutual liking for each other soon bloomed into a heart-warming friendship full of trust and recognition. You just know it when things feel exactly right.
The project that had set off Gina’s exclamation, was an idea that had surfaced when she was introduced to the British artist Richard Stott by a mutual acquaintance. Both of them wanted to combine their artistic enthusiasm with their love for spiritually powerful images into a contemplative tarot deck. Large images, A3 size. Visuals that invited the viewer to step into them and ‘stay’ there for a while. But both Ric and she had the feeling they needed a third person involved in the collaboration. Around that time but in a totally different context, I mentioned my ambition for collage images and tarot to Gina, and everything suddenly fell into place.
I said yes. Instantly, without thinking it through, based on nothing more than a handful of Ric’s paintings and my faith in Gina’s knack for people. I had never done anything like this before, and although my confidence is pretty sturdy where my writing is concerned, I am nowhere near that point when it comes to my visual work. But my life has summersaulted so many times over the last few years and I enjoy making my own artwork so much, that I know perfectly well when to close my eyes, pinch my nose and jump into the deep.
At the onset of summer we held an online conversation in order to sketch the content outlines, and even there, it was already tangible that the energies matched. A kind of effortless interaction found its flow, an open dialogue with enough space for each unique take on the project.
We quickly came to the conclusion that it wouldn’t be a literal tarot, but we did want the cards to work within the framework of a structure that would enrich and stabilize it. Something based on the symbolism of ‘three’. Clearly, there was no lack of that in both history and spirituality. We wrote down a few core ideas and decided to move ahead trusting the process.
The first step was making three trial images, A3 size, for which one of us would provide either the first, second or final layer. We quickly discovered each one of those had its charms and challenges. How much of the blank page to fill if you’re the one to start, without taking up too much space? What to graft onto the existing foundation in the second phase, respecting what has been put in place already and leaving enough room for the one who will finish the image after you are done with your bit? How to truly finalize an image in which two energies are already entangled and interacting dynamically, in such a way that it all comes together?
It was a fascinating process that felt truly fulfilling, for the images really worked. Our three very different voices managed to blend into a chord, resonating on several frequencies at once. These weren’t easy pictures, glitter-sprinkled and readily consumable. They were multi-layered, and powerful. We felt we wanted more of this. Much more.
Less fascinating and fulfilling were the shipping and customs fees for A3-sized parcels to and from London. A long-distance collage collaboration, if it had ever been easy, in Brexit times now met with numerous extra administrative and financial obstacles. It helped us explore alternative possibilities, which converged last week in what we considered a try-out residency at Gina’s spacious and light-filled duplex apartment in Brussels.
Four days of sharing the same space and deep-diving together, working and sleeping under the same roof. Allowing images to emerge. Blending energies and visions. Giving each other space. Finding our own. Being in service of the project, most of all.
It turned out to be magical.
Even for me, who has no problem opening up to total strangers if I detect a common resonance, it was remarkable to feel how quickly something established itself for which there is no other word but mutual trust. We had no need for words. There was a shared intention, a shared sensitivity, and there were three totally different and therefore mutually enriching artistic visions and idioms. We dove in, and the creative process took us along.
That process turned out to have very clear phases. They blended into each other constantly, for we were working on multiple images in different stages of development at the same time, but it didn’t make them less distinct.
The rough creation phase: bringing together a first layer or a core idea (mostly done by one person who felt the call of certain shade of colour or a set of images wanting to enter into a dialogue).
Depth work, by combining the core idea with different elements, questioning it, embedding it differently (mostly done by one or two other people).
Finalising the last details (could be all three of us together).
Gluing into place the totality of the intricate puzzle that had up to then only been held together by ‘magic’, removable, tape (a monk’s work, for one).
The thirteen finished images that came into being in the course of barely four days, were the result of pure co-creation. There could be a bit more of one artist’s work in a particular one, but all three of us were always involved in some way or other: by giving feedback, by fidgeting with the composition, by turning everything on its head and starting over, by adding a final but decisive detail. Most importantly, our communal energy was in each and every one from start to finish. Collaborative dreaming, read one of the cards we drew during the closing ritual of the second day of work. And that is exactly what it was: we were sharing a dream, in a magical space in which it could actually take physical shape.
Our try-out had turned out to be a success formula, and what we had managed to achieve in so short a time defied even our own imagination. When each of us took turns to sit in the centre of the circle of images on the final day, we could all clearly feel it: something powerful was finding its way into the world, with us for midwife and birth canal alike.
I have been home again for a few days, now. I had a warm welcome from my husband an my son, and another one from a full laundry-basket, a mailbox brimming with messages, a list of books and postcards to sign and send, a writing assignment for the arts academy where I teach, a party to which we were invited and a number of indistinct chores. In other words: I could (or rather had to) root down into my home life very quickly. And that was not a bad thing, really. For I did feel like I had spent some time in another world entirely, away from life as I knew it, outside of time.
This adventure has all but ended. There are a lot more images to create, and we all feel it probably won’t be possible anymore to work on our own on this project anymore, after what we have established between us. So we are planning ahead, looking into spring. I am in no particular rush for springtime, I am fully enjoying this winter’s holiday season. Nonetheless, I definitely am looking forward to returning to the magical universe resonating with the power of three.
Postscript
Working with magic, one knows that there is a need for balance. Sometimes, a new thing can only come in when something old has been released. Sometimes these process will cross and converge. Just as this blog was about to go online, Gina let us know that her cat Mirakuru, who had kept us company throughout the entire creation process and had frequently informed us of his opinion on it by miaowing very expressively, and who had slept with me on the sofa all three nights like a very affectionate little concrete brick, had suddenly died, sleeping gently on his favourite chair. I can still feel his thin fur under my fingers, and his purring after a long, gentle night together. We will miss him, come spring. But he is forever part of what is coming into the world.
