Painting in the Liminal Space: Helen Lewis

And it was kind of an interesting time when you and I first spoke. I mean, we've spoken prior to Radio Maine, but it was right in the middle of It was indeed. Interesting times. But now you're here. Yes. Nice to be here in person. Thank you for having me. Absolutely. So you and your husband, Brad, you come a long way to be with the Portland Art Gallery? We do. We make the drive from Ohio to bring art and to be up here, but we love Maine and we've been making the trek to Maine for probably close to 40 years at this point. So it's wonderful to have a reason that it's on a regularly scheduled trip now instead of just longing to get here and needing to make arrangements to do so. We just plan for it and that is wonderful. We miss it when we're not here. I love the idea of longing. Longing to be in Maine. What is it about Maine that's so special for you? It is, I think a combination of things. The beautiful coastline, the rocky coastline, just the air here and the light here and the small town atmosphere and the history. I don't know. There are many things. It's the charm of it And you like it so well that during your opening a few months ago, you actually brought the whole family. Oh, I did. Yes. I have twins and they grew up coming with us, but it was the first opportunity to bring grandchildren and they all loved it. They're all pushing to come back. They're pushing their parents at four and five. They're saying, we want to go back to Maine too if Mo is going. So they enjoyed it a great deal. We had a good solid week here together and some wonderful hikes. We made it up to Acadia and just were able to do a lot of things and they enjoyed it and they loved being at the gallery. I wasn't quite sure how that would go, but they loved it. They took me around and showed me different particulars about specific paintings that they liked and why they liked it, and so it was wonderful. So what were some of the things that drew their eye? They loved some of the scenes that were very Maine. They liked Paige's work particularly. I think the month that we were here, there was one of her pieces hanging that had the ferry boat in it, and we were able to take that ferry out to the island. So they loved knowing that they were going to be on that ferry the next day or the following day. I don't know. There were many things. They pointed out colors and scenes and yeah, they enjoyed it.D Do you invite your grandchildren into your art? Do you have conversations around art? Oh, very much. And they love to come into the studio. They were excited. Our son is an architect and so in particular, his little one as we were building, his son was very aware because Jordan was working on the plans and we were back and forth as we were adjusting things. And so little Canon was well aware and very excited for that to be completed. But all of them love to come and love to come in there and have some time painting or drawing with Mo. It's good. And you are And I am Mo. Who named you Mo? Mo is actually short from MoMA, which is Gaelic Irish for Granny. So I started out as MoMA when our first, Rider was really young, but between mama and his aunt Megan that he calls Meme, he had Mama Meme and MoMA and it was a bit much. He on his own, shortened it to Mo and I've been ever since. It works. I mean it's kind of a great name. It is. I'm happy with it. It's a fun role as well. So we are Mo and Pops, Brad is I talk about this with my children all the time. They bring it up, not me. I don't have any grandchildren and they're always like, so what would you like your grandchildren to call you? I feel like they're probably going to kind of do that themselves, that I know some names I don't want to be, but in the end it doesn't sound like, I mean, it sounds like you became Mo because that's what you were meant to be. Exactly. I mean, for a while they kept asking me as well, and they're like, you're going to end up with Helen if you don't come up with a name. And I was like, well, we'll see. And then on a trip to Ireland, a cute little Irish waitress and I were chatting and I said, what do you call your grandma? And so that's how it evolved. That is a very nice segue into what I want to make sure I spend time talking with you about. And that is the British Isles, Ireland, Scotland. And in particular, I'm very interested in the liminal space in your connection to Celtic Christianity because when I learned that this was an interest of yours, I said, well, John O'Donohue, and you're like, of course. And not everybody has that connection. So talk to me about that. Well, my roots are Scottish Irish and I have a pool there. I think it's partly why Maine feels so much like home to me because of the similarity to the Irish and Scottish coasts. So there's that aspect of it. But indeed, just a lot of Celtic Christianity, Celtic spirituality, the idea of thin places or liminal spaces is very intriguing to me. It's very intriguing and yet familiar and thin places to explain it. It's kind of that it can be a place or it can come about as a result of a piece of music or a piece of art or something that you're reading where there's that sense that there's not much separation there between the mortal, the earthly and the divine, almost as though that veil between the two was lifted for a moment. And you get a glimpse of that mystery that's on the other side and yet mystery that feels familiar. It feels almost like something that you've known, something that's been in your heart. And so I love that concept and I've experienced it many times. I think most people have, they may not put that language to it, but I believe that they have. And it's something that I would love to be able to kind of facilitate for people. I would love that my art, I always want it to be peaceful and tranquil, but I would love it if it's served as that liminal space, if it's served as that invitation to invite people deeper and for them to think about and yeah, maybe get a glimpse of something beyond. There's a great reference in one of John O' Donahue's books about feeling that sort of awareness of coming home, coming home to your heart, coming home to, and sort of settling in, being able to step into and fully occupy our home. That is our heart, and I really relate to that very much. Home is a very important concept to me as well. I think as a result of my life circumstances, being able to really feel at home in my own story and in my own heart home is something we all long for the connection and the sense of belonging, and that's kind of where all of that comes from. It's always an interesting idea that for somebody who has lost a pivotal person in their life, creating home means something very different than somebody who has what we consider to be a more fully fledged family unit. Correct. Yes. I think, as I'm sure you remember that I lost my parents within three weeks of each other when I was five and a half, and then lost a very dear brother, 18 months older than I am when I was 17. And so yes, there's been a lot of loss. And I think as a result of that, I probably had my share of struggle around feeling really at home, sort of knowing that I came into a place for the rest of my growing up years that was not really intended to be home. But even beyond that, just the idea of coming home to myself and being okay fully with who I am and the circumstances of my life, even completing some of the initial just survey and paperwork for you for this interview, it can feel very, just the basics of my life can feel a little heavy when I go to put them into a form. And there's this feeling of almost wishing you could shy away from that and just make everything light and happy. But even as I've completed that work, it's like, well, it is what it is. These are indeed the circumstances of my life, and this is my story. And I realized that as a result of it. I've come out on the other side with a great deal of sensitivity, a great deal of awareness. I feel like I am even maybe a bit more aware of others. I think that that sensitivity extends. So yeah, it's difficult. It was difficult, a lot of loss that heartbreaking. And yet I can look back now and see a great deal of positive that's come out of it. There's actually a little story, if you don't mind me sharing that relates to that and ties into Portland Art Gallery and And that is, if I can get through this. Before my first solo show with the gallery. So I think it was 2017, I believe, 2016 or 2017, and it was when the gallery did the entire room where you now feature two or three. So I, I think I brought 39 pieces of art for that show, rented a vehicle to get it all up here and brought all of that. And I had a friend that was praying for me about my show coming up and bringing that work. And he said to me he had seen the work, he and his wife had seen the work. And at the time, my studio was not yet built and I was working in an extra room at home. So there was one piece, it was a diptych, it was the largest piece I'd ever done up to that point. It was six feet wide. And when he saw it, it was in two separate rooms because the art would just, obviously with 39 pieces, it kind of took over our house as we were waiting to pack it up and bring it to Maine. And so it was separated and he didn't even see it together. But he said, "when I was praying, I got a mental image picture of a little blonde girl sitting and looking up at that blue piece that was kind of separated." I said, Path of Peace, that was the name of the piece. He said, yes, that's the one. And I thought, I think that was probably me as a little girl that he was seeing. But then he said, there's something else. There's one more thing. He said, I don't know if this will mean anything. And he said that little girl had on a blue and white dress. Well, I have very few pictures of myself as a child because of the circumstances of my childhood, but I have a picture that was taken the day of my mother's funeral and I have on a blue in my dress. So I knew at that point that was clearly me that he was seeing. And I think I instantly burst into tears and it just meant so much. It said to me that not was I not as alone as I felt in those early years, but it also said that I'm doing now what I was meant to be doing. And that this art is indeed, for me, especially, it's served as that liminal space. It's served as a thin place in my life. And interestingly enough, that piece sold first for that show. It was not yet even hung. It was just leaning against the wall and a couple from out of state loved it and paid to have it shipped when the show was over. So again, that felt like such a confirmation like, yeah, I'm supposed to be doing this. And I remind myself of that on a regular basis. When I'm questioning imposter syndrome, I think it hits all artists and it certainly hits me on a regular basis. And when it gets really heavy, that little nagging voice in your ear, it's like, no, wait a minute. I think I've had a very clear message that this is what I'm supposed to be doing and I just need to keep going. That's a very Powerful story. It is. It's powerful in my life, I believe so I'm glad to have an opportunity to share it with you because it does feel connected to the gallery. There's something about, as you're describing this idea that in some part remaining in the liminal space, it's connecting you back to people who, even though I use the word lost, they're not really lost. I mean, they're not necessarily here and you didn't get a chance to experience them the way that people who are more fortunate in this case get to experience their parents, but they're not that far away really. It makes me think about the fact that in my work, I often will go back in and carve some lines, some line work that will connect certain areas of a piece to other areas. And it's something that I've just felt drawn to do as well as some of my other mark making. But in almost all of my work, there's found some line work and some connecting in trying to understand my own abstract language. At times, I've wondered if indeed it relates to just connection, which is so vital. So yeah, I appreciate you saying that. I think that this idea of the thinning of the veil and this idea that especially certain times of the year are when the is thin and then if we're actually paying attention in a different way, not paying attention like, oh, I know what the date is, or this is the phase of the moon according to my phone. But really being fully present in the world, I think it, it's such an important reminder of this sense of transience that for whatever people believe in, and maybe some people don't believe anything other than we're here and then we're not here, but most likely, many of us, most likely, this idea of matter being neither created nor destroyed, even from a scientific standpoint, there's some element of where we were and where we're going to be. So in the days of the thinning of the veil, maybe were most in equilibrium with all of those states of being And particular days and times and also places. We were fortunate enough to visit the island of Iona, if you're familiar with Iona in Scotland. And that's a place where indeed it's considered just a thin place where there isn't much separation and you have a real sense of it while you're there. And I know that at times, as I said, there are really kind of a variety of things that can sort of usher that in. But there's that sense that comes and you're clearly aware that you're touching something beyond you're experiencing, you're sensing. And as you say, for me, I believe that it's God that there's a bit of a breakthrough happening. The one thing that we always think about in Maine is the fact that we have these seasons that seem to go on forever that are neither here nor there. And what you're describing reminds me of the many, many days that we've basically just existed in the mist. It's not necessarily snow, maybe not rain, but it's right in that point of condensation. And so I think that Maine, for me ends up being one of those places, not all the time, but it's very similar to what you're describing. So I wonder if part of you're being drawn to Maine for the last four decades, I wonder if it's for you, the same sort of sense that you have around being drawn to the British Isles, for example. I would say that there's a great deal of validity to that. Yeah, I think there's truth there that softness, that mist that you're describing, I think that emerges in my work as well without ever really setting out to do it. It's not an intention from the beginning, but partly because of the fact that I work with the hot wax in the encaustic and the cold wax as well, it sort of lends a softness to the pieces. But I think you've hit upon something. I believe that indeed it is part of the draw And also the layers you have, there's so much rich layering that goes on, and there's so much very subtle dimensionality. And when I think about when the weather being soft, let's just say, and that mist, when there is that interesting way that things around us either kind of push forward towards us or recede, and this idea that you can reach out and touch something, but it's actually further away than you think. And that same sort of idea comes through in your work. It's just under the surface, but you can't actually get, You get a glimpse. It's those glimpses. And I believe indeed that's what thin places are about. You get a glimpse. And so in my work, sometimes even the scraping away that I do and removing the reduction that happens to get just a glimpse. But yeah, it's still somewhat obscured, somewhat veiled, and you can't quite get there. And it certainly applies to my life as well. It's like how much do I keep covered and how I've lived my life for the most part, keeping much of it covered. I just read something, it was a comment about how artists often live their lives with a tension of wanting to communicate and yet wanting to stay hidden. And I thought, well, bingo, there I am. But it's partly what you're alluding to, the idea that there are glimpses that come, and yet it's slightly beyond. It's quite clear, but it gets in when it's there, it strikes the heart and it stirs something inside. And I would hope that my art sometimes at least has that effect on people. That would make me happy to know that that was happening. It's such an interesting idea because it's almost like you are communicating something that's intangible even to you, and then somebody else is showing up completely outside of you and your work that's trying to understand something that's again, kind of completely intangible. There's so many layers of either chosen belief, faith or lack of choosing that. And I would hope that my work has a way of doing that for people in their own understanding, in their own experiences, that it would stir things from their own lives or remind them of partly I would say that I'd never really paint. I mean, obviously my work is abstracted and I'm inspired by lots of places and lots of things, but it's not like I'm ever trying to portray a particular area. And yet the illusion is there, the reference for people that they would be able to come along or even not a place, just a feeling, an emotion, an event in their life that meant a great deal and it would please me a great deal to know that my work spoke to that in their lives. That would be very satisfying to me. How often do you connect with people who have your work? How often do you get to know whether this happens or not? Not very often. There have been a few times, and I was always so blessed by it. I was always so grateful when that would happen. But yeah, not often. Once I had someone call, they had purchased one of my pieces and my titles are really very important to me because words are important to me, and I spend a lot of time, my words, my titles come out of, I keep a running list when something strikes me as I'm reading or something just comes to me. But I always put a lot of prayer and thought and contemplation into titles. And that was true for this particular piece. It had an old letter in it from I think the late, well early 18 hundreds letter that was signed by, and it was the original letter that was in there, and it was signed yours truly as a pretty standard closing into a letter. But when I was thinking about the title, I felt that I was to change it and say truly yours rather than yours, truly. And so this through the venue where they were buying this particular piece, it's been years, it was a gallery and they called, let me speak with this woman just briefly. I'm trying to remember the exact details of it. But anyway, she said that she had just come through, I think a relatively difficult time in her life and that she had been sitting and praying the day before on the beach, and in her prayer said, I am truly yours. And so the title had gripped her and really mattered to her. And I thought, oh, well, that's probably why I felt to switch it. And then she went on to it, really explained a lot of different elements in the piece that were what had pulled her in. There was a bit of gold leaf in it. There were several different elements that really spoke to her in a very specific way about her life. And I was kind of blown away by that. I was very glad I had the opportunity to find it out and pleased for her. I thought, well, this is really going to mean something to her to have this hanging on her wall in her home. But it has sort of been a great reminder in that respect to take my time and not rush into these titles and that there's more to this than what I might realize, that more than my just trying to complete enough work to have a show ready or to be able to provide new work, that there's greater intent than that, that there is more to this. And it does make me think of the situation with the individual, seeing this little blonde girl in the blue in my dress. I'm meant to be doing this. And sometimes the understanding of that it is veiled, it is even mystery to me, and it's not necessarily something that I'm maybe meant to know at the time. I think it would get in the way. I think I'm just supposed to continue to pray and meditate and spend my time and try to get direction. And I really try to quiet myself. I try to have my work come out of a very centered, very quiet place, which again is something I think I like about Maine. I feel very centered when I'm here on the coast, just taking in the beauty that's all around me. And if I can somehow add to the beauty that's in the world, starting out with nothing, starting out with this wooden panel, and then being able to put my layers and do my carving, and if I can, the end result of that is a bit more calm, a bit more beauty out in the world, then that means a lot. Makes me happy to think that that could be true for an individual viewing it or an individual who might feel they want to actually make it part of their lives and take it home and to a home. Home is so sacred to me. It means so much. So to know that my work is sometimes headed into people's homes. That's a gift. Do you think that most artists like to hear where their work ends up? Oh, I'm sure most of them do. I would imagine that most of them do. And I'm wondering how often it happens with other people because I guess it depends upon sort of how far away you are from where the work is being shown and not physically far necessarily, but I mean, one of the things I love about Portland Art Gallery is when we're there at an opening, you're talking to the people who have bought the art and might be buying future art. That sense of connection and community around art is really important. It is just that relationship that develops. I think it is important. It's important. So I would imagine for most artists, when I work on commission pieces, obviously I know where it's headed, and I've had interesting commissions where someone brings me a handwritten note from their grandmother or something and they would like to have it incorporated, or just little bits of ephemera that really are treasures to them. And that always feels like an honor too, to be able to include that in the work and know that it's forever preserved, probably more so than if it was tucked in a drawer somewhere. They're going to see it on the wall and it's going to mean something. As we're talking, I'm thinking about Paige and Paige and her work has taken such a different turn recently. It has a beautiful turn, I would say. I mean, her previous work was lovely also. I agree. I agree to both. I loved her work before. I love her work now, and she and I talked about this this way, but I think what you're describing about this idea of imposter syndrome, I think it's something that not only can happen early on when you are starting out, but even if you're a very experienced artist and you're thinking, I'm going to do this differently because you're shifting what you're putting out and what people are responding to and the letting go of what was in order to be open to what is, even if it makes you more fully who you are, even if it brings you back home. And that idea of vulnerability and the idea that you're describing, even just sharing the information you shared with me before you came on, and it was wonderful. And I think you immediately the next day reached out and you're like, did I say too much? Yeah. I thought, oh my. She's got to wade through that, Which I did not think so. And honestly, I'm always happy. I mean, I love hearing about where people are coming from because that's just who they are. And to me that's so important. So I guess that's the interesting thing is if you're an artist and it's reflecting who you are, but you're feeling like an imposter as an artist, then does that mean you feel like an imposter as yourself, I suppose at times, yes. I mean, it's definitely exposure, and that was a challenge for me in the beginning. It's some, it's definite exposure, that transparency and just because bringing it up out of your heart. I don't think I know that it's something that many artists struggle with at different points in their career and where it's that little voice saying, who do you think you are? And this is not good. And all the static that kind of comes. And if I can step back and realize this is static, this is noise. To get in the way of being able to follow that inner direction and follow your heart and really bring forth from that place, then that's a helpful way to dial the volume down on all that noise that comes. But I agree, her new work is lovely. It was a pleasure to get to see it last night at the opening to see it all hung together in the beautiful space that is Portland Art Gallery, soaring ceilings and beautifully lit. It was wonderful. And I can't help but think that the more we're able to be fully ourselves, the more people around us will see that and say, well, if that person could be themselves, then I feel like I have permission to be myself because we're all as humans, very interconnected. So if you are willing to put yourself out into the world as your art, then other people might be willing to put themselves out into the world, whether they're artists or not. Right. Exactly. It's that idea of really kind of coming home to your own heart and to your own story. And I credit you, Lisa, my last interview was like, whoa, I don't normally, I'm not typically that transparent about my story, so I'm not surprised to hear you say that you love to find those things out and know individual's stories and their lives and kind of what motivates and what drives them or just about their backgrounds and so forth. I think you're quite good at it. A bit therapeutic for me. Thank you. This is always the interesting thing for me, Helen, is obviously my other background is in medicine, and sometimes I need to go deeper than what people feel completely comfortable with. And sometimes in these interviews I walk away, I'm like, Hmm, did people share more than they really wanted to? But it is always interesting that I think when I talk with you and you share more, that enables me to share more. And we both are like John O'Donohue, the luminal space and this idea of the thinning of the veil. And so we can come together and connect on that. And other people who are listening to us, they can say, oh, that's so beautiful. Or if they say, oh, that sounds crackpot, then we can say, well, you're welcome to your own life, So be it. Exactly. And I think for me, that is truly the beauty of these conversations and learning about you, even if it makes you feel vulnerable, is it makes me feel like I can show up and be vulnerable that I can enter this space with you. And that is really a gift that you also have given me It. It's that sort of the mutuality of the conversation. Thank you for that. As always happens, you and I end up bringing things out about the other person, so clearly. And also, I know you have this background in healthcare too. So again, we have that shared sort of healer kind of thing. There's a lot of different places that we connect, but not the least of, which is of course your piece that still hangs in my living room that I see every day. Thank you so much. A story worth telling, right? That's one that I'm very glad to know where that piece ended up. Makes me happy to know that it's hanging in your home, And it's completely my pleasure to have it there. And I guess this is our story worth telling, and we've told it. Yes, we have. So thank you for coming in today. Thank you for having me. It's a pleasure. And today I've been speaking with Helen Lewis, one of my favorite artists. Obviously, she hangs on my wall. She's part of my home. She's absolutely a story worth telling, and I hope that you will take the time to, if Helen can come from Ohio to the Portland Art Gallery openings, I think that I would invite anyone who's even closer than Ohio to come to our Portland art Gallery and hang out with us and be part of telling the mutual story. Thank you for joining us, and thank you for coming in today. Thank you. I appreciate it.