Gifting through art

And how giving and receiving has saved my bacon...for now at least.

I’m currently reading a timely book gifted to me by the husband. And I wanted to tell you about it because sometimes a hint of divine guidance comes to us through gifts, if you’re a believer. We can just call it an intervention from the universe if that’s more your thing?

So the book is called “Braiding sweetgrass” and I’m not very far in but already savouring Robin Wall Kimmerer’s wise words…

Gifts from the earth or from each other establish a particular relationship, an obligation of sorts to give, and to reciprocate.

She compares the wild gift of hedgerow strawberries, picked in childhood to contribute to her father’s homemade shortbread, with farm-grown, year-round punnet varieties. How much sweeter are the small wild berries, not least because they have been shared by nature for free and entice children outside to connect with flora and fauna.

It got me thinking… gifts have shown up in many interesting ways for me of late, proving my theory that the gift of art-making is central to an ethos of giving.

We artists “have a gift” and we are often part of very special, personal instances of giving and receiving too.

Enter, the sun

Firstly, I exchanged an original artwork for a sibling’s time, helping decorate. The bonus? I got to spend time with my brother and reconnect, as well as exploring a new subject which he intends to gift to his daughter, my niece.

Sunflowers (roll over VVG!) Actually, if you haven’t already, check out sunflower paintings by Egon Schiele - I really loved them.

“Saoirse’s sunflowers” etching © Helen Arthur

Then I had a sale of a gift certificate from my website - bought by a daughter and her siblings for their mum, someone whom I have met and with whom there was an instant connection.

In buying this gift for their mum - likely to be spent as time in my studio making art together under my guidance - they have also gifted to me some confidence as well as a financial boost.

The timing was beyond perfect.

Back to the office? Ugh

I was about to interview for a job from my past career. Long story long, neither the husband or I have much job security and his current contract ends in October. We both feel a little panicky - with two kids still at home - and I hastily sent out some job applications a few weeks ago.

When the invitation to interview landed in my inbox, my heart sank. It was one of those “Hell, no!” moments.

I’ve been dithering, even prepping for the interview, but 24 hours beforehand I hit the “withdraw application” button. I feel a little queasy but hugely relieved. A bullet dodged.

Thank you, universe

Cue a whole series of encouraging “gifts” from the universe. Unusually, someone ordered a print from my website shop. Then, someone booked to visit my studio, bought two pieces and, more importantly, encouraged me to set up a residential painting course. (Hell, yes!)

Another family arranged to visit my studio to buy a piece having been gifted a legacy in a will. These customers talked openly about wanting to spend that money on something special, something made by another person’s hand and full of creativity. And I tried to make their experience of joining me in my studio-gallery as special as possible. A further gift of time.

And all in one week or so.

The gift of acknowledgement

We artists work hard to develop and nurture our passions and reach people that way. It can make us vulnerable, in terms of our sensitive egos but also financially. Some of the hard work is around quashing that feeling of self-indulgence, egotism or selfishness in pursuing art as a career.

When someone buys a place on one of my courses, or purchases a painting or print, they are not only acknowledging my gift as an artist but giving me the gift of time to continue my practice. For this I’m deeply grateful.

And it seems to me that art-making promotes a bigger cycle of gift giving. My students will make gifts, their gifts will be shared in homes among friends and family. More people will be inspired to explore their own creative gifts and passions. And so it grows and ripples outwards. A piece of art is like one small pebble dropped in the pond…

So I’ve body-swerved the old 9 to 5 grind, for now anyway (lucky old me).

Ps, just one more “gift” from the universe - I’m lucky to feature in the arts & culture section of Herefordshire and Monmouthshire Living, August edition with write up by the marvellous Sue Bradley from Cornerstone Media. Thank you. Here’s a sneak preview: