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Oil and oilstick on canvas. 110 x 136 cm approx. 2024","https:\u002F\u002Fimages.prismic.io\u002Fkate\u002FkxY4lGAzunPwPpos_He-put-a-spirit-bomb-in-my-womb.-Oil-and-oilstick-on-canvas.-110-x-136-cm-approx.-2024.jpg?auto=format,compress","kxY4lGAzunPwPpos",{"x":189,"y":189,"zoom":190,"background":191},0,1,"transparent",[193],{"variation":194,"version":195,"items":196,"primary":197,"id":329,"slice_type":330,"slice_label":5},"default","initial",[],{"content":198},[199,203,207,215,223,231,234,242,245,253,256,264,267,275,278,285,293,296,299,307,315,318],{"type":200,"text":201,"spans":202},"paragraph","The title for my show comes from a dream I had many years ago when I first visited Cornwall, before I lived here I believe, around 30 years ago...",[],{"type":204,"url":186,"alt":185,"copyright":5,"dimensions":205,"id":187,"edit":206},"image",{"width":183,"height":184},{"x":189,"y":189,"zoom":190,"background":191},{"type":204,"url":208,"alt":209,"copyright":5,"dimensions":210,"id":213,"edit":214},"https:\u002F\u002Fimages.prismic.io\u002Fkate\u002FqnN1MeHFgOkMqD7R_Rising-up-out-of-Heavens-Gate.-Oil-and-oilstick-on-linen.-90-x-80-cm.-2024..jpg?auto=format,compress","Rising up out of Heaven's Gate. Oil and oilstick on linen. 90 x 80 cm. 2024.",{"width":211,"height":212},2657,2978,"qnN1MeHFgOkMqD7R",{"x":189,"y":189,"zoom":190,"background":191},{"type":204,"url":216,"alt":217,"copyright":5,"dimensions":218,"id":221,"edit":222},"https:\u002F\u002Fimages.prismic.io\u002Fkate\u002FpAQptiohFMShYY5M_All-the-ways-we-touch.-Oil-and-oilstick-on-canvas.-100-x-120-cm.-2024..jpg?auto=format,compress","All the ways we touch. Oil and oilstick on canvas. 100 x 120 cm. 2024.",{"width":219,"height":220},2883,2389,"pAQptiohFMShYY5M",{"x":189,"y":189,"zoom":190,"background":191},{"type":204,"url":224,"alt":225,"copyright":5,"dimensions":226,"id":229,"edit":230},"https:\u002F\u002Fimages.prismic.io\u002Fkate\u002F2xxNrBba4J3R_4e1_Hierophany.-Oilpaint-and-oilstick-on-canvas.-100-x-120-cm.-2024..jpg?auto=format,compress","Hierophany. Oilpaint and oilstick on canvas. 100 x 120 cm. 2024.",{"width":227,"height":228},3376,2655,"2xxNrBba4J3R_4e1",{"x":189,"y":189,"zoom":190,"background":191},{"type":200,"text":232,"spans":233},"I waited and for years my high field was motionless beneath the winds, undiscovered and undisturbed; there was no quivering or opening; there was no ploughing and no witness to any ceremony, awakening or trembling. And he told me over and over again that he would not bring his plough to my fertile ground which was waiting for him. I was the high field left alone, left without the sound of male voices being carried on the wind. And so in the end I came back to my dream and I made my own plough, drawing it out of myself onto paper with my fluids, my pen knibs, my blood and my colours. When I paint I plough with my heart.\n- Kate Walters, 2024",[],{"type":204,"url":235,"alt":236,"copyright":5,"dimensions":237,"id":240,"edit":241},"https:\u002F\u002Fimages.prismic.io\u002Fkate\u002FfrpgKHxHrTqspTuA_Book-drawing-with-sight-March-2024.jpg?auto=format,compress","Book drawing with sight March 2024",{"width":238,"height":239},1439,959,"frpgKHxHrTqspTuA",{"x":189,"y":189,"zoom":190,"background":191},{"type":200,"text":243,"spans":244},"More writing which relates to the work in this show...\nThoughts on my work as a whole and the new body of\npaintings:\nI saw the waking field.\nTo do with fields of awareness we encounter whilst dreaming, in a trance, mystic experiences\nand whilst painting, or being in nature.\n…\nWhen I teach shamanic workshops I always tell new people the definitions of shamanism :\nThe sense, appreciation, that all things are alive and all things are connected;\nAnd shaman: one who sees, one who knows; and one who is inspired by or with fire (Spirit).\nThis relates to my writing thinking and knowing about the seeing of the Waking Field…\nThis underpins all my work as an artist…and human being…\n…",[],{"type":204,"url":246,"alt":247,"copyright":5,"dimensions":248,"id":251,"edit":252},"https:\u002F\u002Fimages.prismic.io\u002Fkate\u002FtVrrnIWWnIbTDnOB_IMG_6479.jpg?auto=format,compress","IMG_6479",{"width":249,"height":250},3420,2125,"tVrrnIWWnIbTDnOB",{"x":189,"y":189,"zoom":190,"background":191},{"type":200,"text":254,"spans":255},"Ploughing with My Heart.\nInanna and the Waking Field.",[],{"type":204,"url":257,"alt":258,"copyright":5,"dimensions":259,"id":262,"edit":263},"https:\u002F\u002Fimages.prismic.io\u002Fkate\u002FNqG59Y7KJSxvfOfF_F27D50B8-735F-458A-8832-57001A7F8C0D.jpg?auto=format,compress","F27D50B8-735F-458A-8832-57001A7F8C0D",{"width":260,"height":261},1440,1079,"NqG59Y7KJSxvfOfF",{"x":189,"y":189,"zoom":190,"background":191},{"type":200,"text":265,"spans":266},"A short passage about creativity, dreaming and psychic processes.\nMany years ago when I first visited Cornwall I had an experience of how all the fields in the West\nPenwith peninsula were alive. I came to know\nthis fully through making a drawing\u002Fmonotype called ‘I saw the waking field’. In this small work\nI drew myself holding the field as if she were a glass of wine I might drink. It is also a body which\nquivers with aliveness. It was through making the drawing\nthat I was able to articulate my feelings\u002Fknowings about the shivering I’d seen the field make, as\nif shaking herself awake in the morning, the way a wild animal would, her gossamer coat\nglistening in the sun.\nA few years earlier in a dream I saw myself opening my chest cavity, taking out my heart, and\nstretching it into what I first thought was a\npen-knib; but then I used my fingers to stretch and enlarge the pulpy crimson form, and I saw\nwithin the dream - to my amazement - that it had become a plough, and I began to push the\nheart-forged blade through the dark ground of my unconscious; turning it\nover, going deeper and darker, revealing her\u002Fmy fecund blackness…\n…………\nAnd one afternoon much later he reached down to a book beside his chair, and he opened the\nbook at a page he’d marked, and he read me these\nwords:\n‘As for me, Inanna,\nWho will plough my vulva?\nWho will plough my high field? Who will plough my wet ground?’\n‘Great Lady, the king will plough your vulva.\nI, Dumuzi the King, will plough your vulva.’\n‘He has sprouted; he has burgeoned;\nHe is lettuce planted by the water. He is the one my womb loves best.\nMy eager impetuous caresser of the navel, My caresser of the soft thighs,\nHe is the one my womb loves best,\nHe is lettuce planted by the water.’\n(Diane Wolkstein & Samuel Noah Kramer, Inanna, Queen of Heaven and Earth pp 37,8)",[],{"type":204,"url":268,"alt":269,"copyright":5,"dimensions":270,"id":273,"edit":274},"https:\u002F\u002Fimages.prismic.io\u002Fkate\u002F5u3IzHhGXoJMnhlm_Ploughing-with-my-heart.-Book-drawing.-March-2024.jpg?auto=format,compress","Ploughing with my heart. Book drawing. March 2024",{"width":271,"height":272},3511,2203,"5u3IzHhGXoJMnhlm",{"x":189,"y":189,"zoom":190,"background":191},{"type":200,"text":276,"spans":277},"I sat quietly, every part of my body tense. I knew the text already but I was unsure about telling\nhim. I wanted him to be the one who would\nturn over my darkest deepest earth, to plough me. I couldn’t tell him this, but he knew.",[],{"type":204,"url":279,"alt":280,"copyright":5,"dimensions":281,"id":283,"edit":284},"https:\u002F\u002Fimages.prismic.io\u002Fkate\u002Foz_bR9A2YjyXySet_C69EFDD4-5820-4926-9521-C732C6D1F206.jpg?auto=format,compress","C69EFDD4-5820-4926-9521-C732C6D1F206",{"width":260,"height":282},1080,"oz_bR9A2YjyXySet",{"x":189,"y":189,"zoom":190,"background":191},{"type":204,"url":286,"alt":287,"copyright":5,"dimensions":288,"id":291,"edit":292},"https:\u002F\u002Fimages.prismic.io\u002Fkate\u002FPZMsGVVTILNKsRG6_IMG_5724.jpg?auto=format,compress","IMG_5724",{"width":289,"height":290},3855,2848,"PZMsGVVTILNKsRG6",{"x":189,"y":189,"zoom":190,"background":191},{"type":200,"text":294,"spans":295},"I waited and for years my high field was motionless beneath the winds, undiscovered and\nundisturbed; there was no quivering or opening; there\nwas no ploughing and no witness to any ceremony, awakening or trembling. And he told me\nover and over again that he would not bring his plough to my fertile ground which was waiting\nfor him. I was the high field left alone, left without the sound of male voices\nbeing carried on the wind.\nAnd so in the end I came back to my dream and I made my own plough, drawing it out of myself\nonto paper with my fluids, my pen knibs, my blood\nand my colours.\nWhen I paint I plough with my heart.\nI rarely see the man anymore. But recently he sent me these words:\n‘Your question about Inanna ploughing her own furrow makes me\nthink of Jung's work exactly: that the work of individuation is a process of exactly that: of\nworking so that the different aspects of who we are (masculine, feminine, old, young, divine,\nshadow etc) can find a way to be in intimate relationship so that we\ncan come fully into being. This is his work particularly on Alchemy, but also on the\nPhenomenology of the Self.’\n…\nPloughing with my heart - The title comes from a dream I had many years ago which I'm only\nnow coming to work with in a direct way. It was very powerful and is all about the unconscious\nand individuation. It also relates to Inanna and the aliveness of fields of being and awareness.\n…\nWords in speech marks are written by a friend, alongside drawings in my small found and\naltered books...\n\"Again you are there, where I didn't expect you to be, in the darkness looking at me.\"\n\"Stretch me out beneath you, let me carry your footsteps over the land\nLet your fingers inscribe my skull's cape, down through my arms and into the ground: your\ngentle eye and your sharp beak.\" Words written in my books of drawings, by a friend.\n\"If I bury my face in your flowering womb\nYour wounds of the heart, the breast and the sex\nWill you feed me or\nWill you feed off me?\nwill we feed off another\nOr will something we've not yet known\nFind their way in\nThe goddess, this golden icon... would you risk your life, your soul for one moment's awareness\nof this?\nI am sad there\n....waiting for a time when there is space for me\nSometimes a shattering is the only thing\nI can bear: shattering is all that there is\nAnd the brown shawls continue and connect\nAnd there in the debris are you, slowly coalescing\nWill you come together\nIn my\nHands,\nmilk\nOf my eye\nClouds of semen\nFor your seat\nAnd your shawl....\"\nMy studio notes:\nFrom book beside the bed\n\"It is the point of de-creation, when the artist in his unparalleled style no longer creates but\nde-creates - that untitled messianic moment in which art stays miraculously still, almost\nastounded: fallen and risen in every instant.\" Agamben 2002\n\"This is a downward going path of art, and life, that creates via a descent. This is an art that falls.\nThis art makes its connections through disintegration, disruption, sexuality, chaos, breakdown,\nloosening, loss, trauma, and madness.\" Agamben in Naming the Gods by Gary D. Astrachan\nBeing seen.\nOr not seen.\n'Poiesis is a bringing forth from concealment, hiddenness and non-being into the 'light of\npresence.'\n\"Poiesis bears within itself as its original mission, this compelling desire for a complete\ntransfiguration of our natural state.\" From Phallos by Eugene Monick\nAs if I'd been bitten by a shark. The pain around my lower body, the pain of unlove.\n…\nDream of bees (October 2023) in the ceiling of my bedroom. Small black wild bees, they were\nnesting. Maybe there was one in my hair. I couldn't use my bedroom (couldn't sleep, couldn't\ndream) and I asked my husband to help move them, but he couldn't do it. It seemed like it was\nmy childhood bedroom as well as this one, my home.\nNote: there are places in Cornwall which harvest honey from wild black bees.\nBees can be seen as divine messengers. They want us to go up, heavenwards. Trying to get\nthrough my ceiling. Maybe I have a ceiling I need to go up, through?",[],{"type":200,"text":297,"spans":298},"Dream on the following night:\nOf a screen\u002Fpainting with red and white, red flowers from my sage plants. Erotic thoughts of a\nman touching me all over with his erect phallus, everywhere he touched me my skin was\nmarked, bruised, opened, he planted his bulb in me, I grew tulips from all the marks.\nNote: reminded me of another dream in which red, wild tulips grew from my bones.",[],{"type":204,"url":300,"alt":301,"copyright":5,"dimensions":302,"id":305,"edit":306},"https:\u002F\u002Fimages.prismic.io\u002Fkate\u002F7_j7kmCyjQf_Ldre_IMG_5605.jpg?auto=format,compress","IMG_5605",{"width":303,"height":304},3429,1699,"7_j7kmCyjQf_Ldre",{"x":189,"y":189,"zoom":190,"background":191},{"type":204,"url":308,"alt":309,"copyright":5,"dimensions":310,"id":313,"edit":314},"https:\u002F\u002Fimages.prismic.io\u002Fkate\u002F9EXd5rEryReObqJA_IMG_5803.jpg?auto=format%2Ccompress&rect=0%2C0%2C3623%2C2736&w=3623&h=2736","IMG_5803",{"width":311,"height":312},3623,2736,"9EXd5rEryReObqJA",{"x":189,"y":189,"zoom":190,"background":191},{"type":200,"text":316,"spans":317},"Writing at this time by my Friend:\n\"In the dark spaces, lost in the dark spaces - and you are also suddenly there sleeping...\nI thought you'd gone on, gone away but you were curled up, your aloneness saved in the\nwellspring, gold dust shimmering over you - else I would've walked by lost, still lost. As I draw\nmyself up and over to caress the back of your neck, your wings budding over your shoulders, you\nknow I am here, arriving into form out of the darkness because of you.\nComing into being over you.\"\nI remember the garden at Clos du Peyronnet, my garden of Paradise when I was a young\nwoman. I think about creating a garden of paradise with my painting. How beauty, memory, also\ntrauma are tacked into us, a needle goes through all our layers of being, connects it all, makes us\nstronger? We are sewn.\nPaint my body as a colorful landscape, the colours are birdsong.\nBirds don't listen to music. Or do they?\nThe flowers on my tongue.\nFlower pregnant with Horse. Flower gives birth to Horse.\nPollinated tears.\nDream of the two eyes that saw everything. Roving, revolving, without lids. Attached to the great\nlong jaw bones of the eagle, spirit bird of the deeps, night visitor, keep him\u002Fher hidden beneath a\ndark cloth. Paint the dark cloth, the sea of bones, the tides of skulls.\n'Every time consciousness produces something, even two words, there are always four, because\nthe unconscious is always there too; something unknown is involved, and that should also be\ntaken into consideration. ' Alchemy, Marie-Louise von Franz, p 153.\n'Horses are liminal creatures who lead humans from the world of the tame into the world of the\nwild up to heaven, or down to the artery hell of the cobra people.' Wendy Doniger Stallions p 17\nMy paintings know things . They know things about me. They know what to do before I do.\n'I return from trampling upon flowers\u002FAnd the hooves of my horse smell sweet.' Emperor Hui\nTsung. (1101 - 1125).\nYou are the rhizome, I might say to him, the one who hides in the shadows, and behind the\ncurtain of death. The soul Friend. You with your fingers, your tongue and your phallus buried\ndeep, I came to know you through the drawing first, and you told me how it felt for you when I\nrose from your holy sacrum, Heaven's Gate. I paint us over and over, your face and fingers\ndown, and I rise up flowering. We're lotus too, you my dark roots in the watery place, and the\nhorse the band of daylight joins us.\nI ask about the kind of psychic space I'm painting to house the figures. Should they be in a\nlandscape?\nFrom The wisdom of the Ancient Seers p 160\n'His stallions are dark, that is transcendent and of the Absolute, but their feet are white as they\nbear the light of the phenomenal worlds.' And 'All beings remain forever in Savitar, the Being of\ntransformation. He is the supreme light of creation that is the free overflowing of the\ntranscendent and uncreate....Divine creativity which underlies all creation and which recreates\nand regenerates us in the light of truth.'\nJonah and the whale: coming out of the body of the animal\u002Ffish after an ordeal. Animal body as\nplace which holds us whilst we are cooked, transformed.\nIt could also be your mouth, where you gently hold me when I'm painting. Your words are me\nemerging; all my colours.\nThe pregnant man pushes his belly against the belly of his bride. The pregnant man can have\nthree faces. The man wants my pregnancy, he wants my womb, he summons a heavenly belt and\nspins it towards me, he plants a spirit bomb in my womb with the heavenly strike. Later, when I\nput the painting on the wall, and I see the insistence of the child taking my hand (pulling me\naway), and the fury of the horse: I wonder if he is stealing from me.\nReading 'in the direction of the bird's mouth'. Painting 'in the direction of the bird's mouth.'\nCannot remember source.\nChiron, the holy outsider.\n\"The mystery of an innate rhythm.\" Holderlin.\n\"A single celestial rhythm.\"",[],{"type":200,"text":319,"spans":320},"\"'Caesura' or 'anti-rhythmic interruption' when the word, as if checked in mid-flight, for a\nmoment reveals not what it says, but it's own nature....the verses seem to fall hugging each other\nin the silence.\"\nBeauty that falls. Giorgio Agamben\n…\nHoly feminine, holy masculine; womb envy; inner child knowing; snake energy;\nserpent power; vision, seeing, knowing; the shaman's eye, various kinds of touch; chakras;\ndreaming. I have brought my shamanic persona into these paintings more.\n…\nA new friend of mine recently wrote this piece below: (December 2023)\nI love your art for so many reasons Kate but just now I’m appreciating how dedicated to your\npersonal journey of becoming you are. It’s important to me as woman, that you take your\nguidance from your dreams, intuitions, shamanic connections, relationships, and deeply felt\nembodied experiences.\nYou use your art to be the voice of that feminine power. I and pretty much all the women I have\nknown struggle to articulate, perhaps to even experience these ineffable feelings. We know\nthey’re important when they come, but they sound so weak expressed in words through the\nsteely filter of the rational mind.\nWe have held back on the unexpressed erotic, messy, visceral, unapologetically cosmic,\nprofoundly knowing, fundamental parts of ourselves.\nAt an ancestral level we learned not to expose these powerful aspects of womanhood for fear of\nalienation, punishment, even death.\nWomen themselves can be the most defensive of this shutting down of the essential feminine,\nappalled by the risk, the disturbance, the threat of the unknown forces that might be released,\nforces of loneliness, poverty, the legacy of a distorted world that threatens unlovability.\nThe worst fear is of the exposure of our own lack of courage at this time when we are called to\nbe open and to find strength in vulnerability. I love you and your art for leading the way, with\nsuch POWER. For us all.\nEstelle Thistleton Professional Development Coach\nFebruary 2024",[321,325],{"start":322,"end":323,"type":324},246,485,"strong",{"start":326,"end":327,"type":328},558,1930,"em","rich_text$5a7ca7f1-4d60-4aea-bb82-b6b736594f4c","rich_text",{}]