I want to explain why we are inviting absolutely every last one of you to The Green Door Gallery art event on Wednesday. It’s taken me ages to write this out. It’s meant I’ve had to say his name over and over again.
In January we launched a mental health awareness campaign at the Irish Embassy. The inimitable “Darkness Into Light” team also donated an incredible 48,000 Euros to partner organisations that provide therapy training and mental health helpline services here in Belgium.
And here is your invitation to the art event this Wednesday:
Ever since my friend took his life in 2007, I’d been looking for a charity that supported people. Supported them in the way I believed my friend and his family had not been supported: I wanted to donate to something that helped individuals and families dealing with mental health crises and bereavement.
From the day of his funeral until the day of this year’s Darkness Into Light launch, I avoided every photo of him. Without thinking, I believed I could control my grief if I avoided reflecting on him. It felt like too much. I’d also, tragically but in a different way, refrained from reaching out to mutual friends. As if the pain would be too great and the floodgates would open. Me! Avoid talking? With friends! Can you imagine?
Then, 17 years later, after the speech when I FINALLY opened up, a family approached me and spoke eloquently. They described how some of us stop ourselves from connecting, even talking, to friends and family, as a form of control. I thought of a diagnosis in psychology: “Selective Mutism.” And a term in popular culture: “Stonewalling.” They explained that some people have such big feelings, they get overwhelmed, and in order to gain a sense of control, some people cut others out.
They had been discussing their own mental health relationships, but it sparked my own long-dark lightbulb.
I’d been burying my own grief in isolation.
I’d avoided looking at old photos.
I didn’t even mention his name casually until last year.
Around this time last year, walking with a friend Sarah Ironside she mentioned she was painting these hearts when she goes for walks. Sarah explained these yellow hearts help people process grief and connect to a charity that supports individuals and families. I was so inspired. I painted a yellow heart in my friend’s memory as we discussed the complexities of grief.
In the post I had written:
If you, or anyone you know are working through suicidal ideation or grief after the loss of a loved one, you might want to check out the incredible support and free services of the Darkness Into Light organisation: www.darknessintolight.ie
You see better than I could; I wrote his name in rain-proof paint, but I still couldn’t bring myself to say it regularly, even write it in my post online!
Sarah had written:
Here is the transcript of her whole post from May 2023:
I walked with my beautiful friend Tamar Levi. She is an artist and she painted her friend Dominic ‘s name with love, sadness and hope.
She told me how Dominic liked to do theatre where there was no theatre. He brought theatre audiences on boats, he was like a theatre doctor who made plays better.
But at 42 he took his own life to the immense grief and sadness of all who loved him.
HOPE – that is the word for me which defines my walks. I walk with the hope that someone will reach out and get help. I walk with the hope that together we can play a part in reducing the stigma that surrounds mental health problems.
Tomorrow I will write these words in lights in the park.
Hope. Dochas. Hoop. Espoir.
I look forward to waking my 60th walk together with people all over the world and sharing the same sunrise.
Thanks to your generosity my personal fundraiser is now at almost 7000 euros – but every euro counts and donations still welcome.
I had so many blind spots. Sarah Ironside mentioned his name in her post. At that time, I’d been holding my grief too close to my chest. Believing it too personal, even for my personal friends to read on my personal wall.
There are also odd circles British society draws around who gets to grieve to the depth they feel they need: I wasn’t his girlfriend or mother, why should I be as shaken to my core as I’d felt?
Up until Sarah and I walked in 2023, I’d rarely mentioned him. Of course, he was referred to and grieved openly at the time of his tragic death and during the time of his funeral in 2007. Back then, I had to say his name to apply for time off work to attend the funeral. I requested bereavement therapy from my work. I’m sure his name was mentioned in those three corporate-office therapy sessions. It wasn’t until SEVENTEEN YEARS later, in 2024, this family, deep at the heart of an event close to my heart, surrounded by their community and friends, speaking of another grief entirely, external to my own self, only THEY helped me reach this private, hidden, personal epiphany: I had been stonewalling my own community around my own grief. My way of controlling my feelings had been to avoid discussion with mutual friends and certainly, to avoid any photos.
That evening, I went home and looked him up. His face flooded the internet. Newspapers, tributes, memorials, projects he’d done for Cornish community, the heritage community that grew from his theatre projects, a whole new theatre atelier built in his honour, credits for films I’d never heard he’d acted, productions I’d no idea he’d founded or scripts he’d fixed… articles and articles and articles… and even an entire photo album dedicated to a life of sensitive beauty.
I was stunned.
Of course I was not the only person mourning Dominic Knutton.
The manager of the Dutch language helplines here in Belgium had spoken only this evening of statistics. It was reported, on average, 130 people are affected by every individual life lost.
I smiled at photos of his successes and laughed at photos of him playing instruments I didn’t know he’d even (tried to?) play.
I saw evidence of his naughty-academic playfulness in a Bacchanalia he’d done at the iconic Eden Project, his historical recovery of Ordinalia (three medieval mystery plays dating to the late fourteenth century,
written primarily in Middle Cornish),
even what a cheeky chappie he’d been as a child.
That evening I’d finally reached out and felt the parallel rays of all 130 people+ remembering my friend, our friend, with similar loving sadness, and suddenly I felt the isolate release after seventeen whole years.
Weeping, I emailed Dom’s friend and theatre producer, Jason Squibb:
Hello Jason, you might remember me, if not, that’s ok. Dominic Knutton and I were close. I’ve been a “Cornishwoman abroad” since then and I don’t think you and I have met in person since Dom’s funeral. At that time I felt a lot of guilt for not having been able to support him… [more effectively, through his darkest end thoughts]. I also really struggled with the bereavement (as we all did). At the time I felt I wasn’t able to help him, and the frustration there was not any mental health support that I knew of, was angry-making. At his funeral I thought about how much I wished there had been a free and qualified professional who could have talked with him in a way that might have led him away from self harm. So for years I was looking for a charity to donate to in order to make sure there could be support for people struggling like Dom had been at that time. Since moving to Brussels I witnessed a lot of people raising awareness for suicide and bereavement and mental health. I reached out to one of the organisers of the most transparently effective support groups and asked if I could donate and organise an event for donations to the 24/7 free therapy hotlines they run in 3 languages here. It’s taken us 4 years to get this event underway and yesterday, (with the benefaction of the European President no less!),
we finally launched the campaign. My artwork, inspired by Dominic’s illness is on auction and all donations go to the professionals on the phones helping thousands every year work through both the pain and processing that both Dom and we had to do without their kind of support.
Anyway, whether you remember me or not, it doesn’t matter. We both had big love for the same guy. I did this thing in honour of him and I wanted to share with you because, well, you’d get it. I hope hope hope other friends and families and colleagues and classmates and acquaintances don’t lose anyone even partially as important as Dominic was to us. I hope my illustrations help young people, especially, see that they are seen and these telephone lines help them feel listened to and these professionals support them away from the darkness that swallowed up our friend. I send you the warmest regards from Belgium and a big Knut kind of hug from, Just Another Person Who Loved Him
Jason responded!
Hi Tamar, yes of course I remember you! Wow, this is amazing. Great that Dom is not only remembered but continuing to influence others who meant a lot to him. I know Dom’s death affected so many people in different ways. But fantastic that you have worked so hard to provide support for those in crisis. Belgium is lucky to have you! Sending you warmest regards from Cornwall, much love xxx
We talked a little bit more online and Jason explained that Dom’s visionary founding of the Cornish Theatre Collective continues to thrive.
…I’m running the company now and since working on the Ordinalia in 2021, I’ve been trying to get funding for a play. The Knut is hugely successful in St Just, a wonderful community space...
Now the Artistic Director, Jason’s often juggling playwright, shipwright AND navigator. Fantastic current projects deliver large-scale outdoor epic theatrical experiences alongside touring theatre. Solid in the same values as Dom’s first Ordinalia, the Collective continues to function as a catalyst for communities to explore their own artistic endeavours. For those of you looking to support awareness and appreciation of Cornish cultural heritage, or interested in celebrating and interpreting our past: the collective works with freelance performers and practitioners and are developing the next exciting thing. Get in touch with them here.
…The Knut is hugely successful in St Just, a wonderful community space...
When Jason spoke of The Knut he helped me settle deep into the understanding that our friend Dominic Knutton’s memory is very much alive and still passionately active in the theatre world.
Art events coordinator Mary Ann Bloomfield managed to raise enough money to build a theatrical facility for the St Just community. It was that community that first worked together with Dom to revive the uniquely Cornish medieval Ordinalia plays.
I wrote:
… It’s just amazing how much community orbits his memory. Thank you again for all your hard work over there and all your kind words here. If, for whatever reason, you find yourself passing through Belgium, ping me a message. I’ll buy you a Belgian beer and a Belgian waffle with some Belgian chocolates so you can go back well welcomed
The warmth in our brief exchange was incredible. I hadn’t spoken with any mutual friends in 17 long years. I wasn’t even in the same VPN country, wherein I might’ve glimpsed award-winning shows, seen Jason Squibb acting in there: proximity might’ve inspired a more casual reflex to pick up the flippin’ phone!
The geographical distance was not the true divide.
Why do we do this do ourselves? Why do we look to isolate our feelings, to control what makes us human, why do we try to lock our little hearts in little boxes? Why do we sometimes hide when the truth is: community is one of the main healthy ingredients back to mental health.
Talking with friends or finding a community who are willing to discuss the trauma or tragedy or grief in your life is one of the biggest healing tools we can tap into.
I made the mistake of taking my own dang time finding my snail pace back to the place where I can heal more healthily amongst friends.
Please don’t isolate yourself.
If you have been through anything at all, there are others around you ready to listen, walk with you, remember with you, well up with tears and talk too.
In fact, aside from my friend and my art and my delayed epiphanies, the charity that I chose to support in my friend’s name, they are meeting for a community walk on May 11th. I’m just realising now, similar to Dom’s Cornish Theatre Collective, they too work to make a space for community. They hope that people who join the walk will find a space for their grief, an outlet for bereavement and a catharsis that can only come from shared memories and open hearts. You can join in sadness or in solidarity.
Hope to see you there. Learn your name. Learn the name of the person you might have lost. And learn how to say my friend’s name again and again and again too.
-T-
Visiting the coalition of the European Left offices & I see… beautiful artwork! Nothing like colourful posters of strong women who make positive change in this world to make your day.
art art art everywhere please and thank you
Did we ever share these images from our theatre/music and art workshop in a local school back in March?
Update: different combinations of the production team have had a performance for TEDx, residencies in two theatres, an art gallery, a cultural centre and a school so far and it’s only been an actor, an actress, me and a flute or violin player. It’s been performed in English and we’ve just finished the French translation. The school workshop was incredible. Look at my smile when the kid tries the continuous line style himself!
If you’d like us to visit your kid’s school, let us know
We’re also discussing adding a choreographer, a digital animator and some traditional drums. If you know anyone who dances or does digital animation or loves drums, or all three, let me know!
“I’m definitely IMPRESSED. It’s beautiful.” ~Fabian Delahaut witnesses my continuous line method for the first time ever after his masterful TEDx speaker coaching session this morning.
. . . Fabian Delahaut #marketingmaster #speakingcoach #toptrainer #singer #actor #comedian #solvaybusinessschool Tamar Levi #artist #inthepress #Brussels #Belgium #TEDxULB #TEDx #tedtalks #DELPHI #exhibition #allinoneline #continuousline #singleline #art promo code TEDXULB2020 on tickets Maison Du Bois, Vrijwilligerslaan 2, 1040 Etterbeek on OCT 22nd. https://lnkd.in/dMDPVG5 #music #flute #animation #classical #forkids #storytelling #interdisciplinary #pluridisciplinaire #illustration #artplusmusic TEDx TEDxULB 2020 – Misfits TedTalks
It’s so crazy I’m doing a TED show. . . . #wtactualf @tedxulb #TEDx #TEDxULB #tedtalks #oneweek
(Lipstick & Masks Don’t Mix)
I now know what it takes to paint, plan and welcome people to art events and sell art during a pandemic.
It takes: flexible dates (watch out for panic), constant considerate communication (bring in forgiveness), safety & sterility measures, and in the end, letting go and gratitude.
I’d never painted a whole art collection during a national lockdown. I’d never planned an art show during a global pandemic. I’d never seen the relief of culture lovers reconnecting in the “new normal.”
More art lovers showed up to my art show IMMENSITIES than expected. They came with smiles behind masks, in hope for interaction, solitary culture vultures, some in pairs and some small families, all arriving slowly but surely to Art Base gallery here in Brussels, Belgium.
It was my honour to welcome some visitors on their first venture out of the house since the beginning of the global Coronavirus pandemic.
The pandemic switched up my audience. I noticed those taking precautions were buying art online, and the majority of those coming in person were a new audience, many people I met for the very first time. It was surprising to meet so many new people after months of interacting with only a small bubble.
Here are my suggestions on How to Run A Successful In-Person Arts Event During a Pandemic.
Step 1)Make sure your dates are in line with pandemic restrictions.
Check both you and the gallery are comfortable with the date, postpone if there is a lockdown or red-zone level restriction that would limit your audience or make you as hosts feel uncomfortable. Check the government guidelines for numbered groups of non-family members. Make sure your ticket sales option has restrictions in place that reflect the government guidelines. The main theme underlying these step is the uncertainty, the fear of planning things that might not come about, the wariness in case it will be rescheduled or cancelled. “Pandemic permitting,” might be the phrase to put at the end of every supply chain interaction. Work towards the event on any element that you can despite a possible changing date. It’s better to have everything ready and postpone than wait until dates are secure and be biting your nails for months and rushing at the last minute. The quality of your work will be closer to guaranteed if you do everything steadily.
Step 2) Make sure your audience understand what’s going on.
This is where we must embrace social media (as dark and scary as it is). Every time there was an iota of information regarding location, dates, preparation, event plans, I made sure to communicate it with utter transparency through almost all my social media channels and website. This was exhausting, but I hoped gallery visitors anticipating the show were getting answers to the questions that they wanted to ask. I answered event safety questions from gallery visitors through Facebook (personal pages, professional pages and event invites), Twitter, LinkedIn, Instagram, email, text message SMS, Facebook messenger, WhatsApp, my website, Instagram direct messages and telephone calls.
I made three mistakes.
I should have made an email invitation or forwarded on the gallery’s newsletter with the full description of the event to those guests who do not use social media at all.
Although I made Instagram and Facebook stories, I should have also made video blogs on my YouTube channel to update people and to outline the strategies that we were putting in place for other art event planners that might want these guidelines in a visual format (e.g., I watch How To…. videos on YouTube more than reading blogs like this). This video output could have included a live Zoom or YouTube streaming experience of the artwork that would have made it accessible to e.g. family far away (I’m still bummed my mother has not seen any of this painting collection in person).
There were a lot of TV news cameras and newspaper cameras in the gallery. This happened at my last show and a lady confidentially asked to have her background profile removed from any social media posts. I mentioned this in advance when talking in person or on the phone to prospective visitors but I should have made it clearer in every interaction, including emphasising to gallery visitors that they then have the duty to inform their plus ones. There was one guest’s plus one, a gentleman in particular who did not feel comfortable having news cameras in the gallery and I regretted not giving him a more reassuring fair warning.
Those mistakes, those gaps in the information output, are regretful. However, the main theme underlying this step is forgiveness. You cannot do everything. No one can. You cannot create high quality work, put together a high-quality event AND use all the social media and communication networks to the extent they offer (there are always more ways you can utilise them, that’s part of the addiction). Unless you have a massive media communication team at hand, and even then, it’s unlikely you’ll be able to coordinate all the information needed during a pandemic.
The reason that you can never “win” and do it all is because it’s a moving target. It’s a living organism. Event planning is a protean beast at the best of times. During the global Coronavirus pandemic, we’ve noticed governments sharing conflicting information. If the official information is conflicting, and ever changing, then we individuals have no hope of doing everything by the book. Just try your very best to respect the official guidelines but also pay attention to what feels right for you and your audience.
Even if the government says you can now have up to 200 people at an event, you might not feel comfortable and you might know your audience well too. (They are likely to feel similar to you because your audience is attracted to your content due to the connection you feel already, the shared expression of humanity already bridging between you.) If you don’t feel comfortable and you know your audience won’t either, then consider doing it a different way (an online gallery experience perhaps) that would suit you on a personal level and the people you are hoping to connect with. More people have been buying art online than for any of my previous shows. However, if you intend an in-person event to connect art from your heart to people with a kinship, you need to make sure the presentation reflects that relationship. The way you would want a wedding to reflect your relationship.
If you put on an event that doesn’t suit your personality or needs, the art itself will become alienated from the people that end up trying to connect to it. It will be disingenuous to invite everyone you know to a place where you don’t want them to be. We all have to be in the right head space to connect in the arts. Unless you are buying original art for investment purposes only, it’s more likely you’ll be looking to find a bond with a painting. We need to be feel safe to engage with the artwork. This is not the time for forcing provocation upon an already anxiety-burdened public.
Step 3) Prepare a safe entrance and exit strategy.
Gallery visitors were ready to go out on the town, but in a safe way. They were tired of not living their lives. The gallery owner devised a numbered ticket rotation system where you viewed the paintings in a clockwise direction. If more than 20 people were in the room you were asked to pass your number to the next person at the door and step to the open-air gathering space just outside the gallery. We planned that if there were more than 40 people on opening night that I would then do my little welcoming and contextualising speech amongst everyone outside, rather than encouraging us all to linger too close inside.
Step 4) Love your collaborators. Show some compassion to all the other people making this thing happen in your team. The photographer has lost a lot of business during the lockdown. The gallery owner had to cancel a lot of events and had rising debts. I’m sure many art galleries are facing untenable rent and utility bills. I stepped up the dialectic rate and the empathy in my communication with all suppliers and contractors and collaborators. A pandemic is a time for an empathetic friend, not a diva. (Actually, I don’t know when is the time to be a diva.)
In this circumstance I listened to whatever the gallery owner suggested and worked as hard as possible to be flexible on dates and in-gallery hours. I paid the photographer more than invoiced because we’ve got to keep each other alive when we can. An arts event is more of a family gathering than a corporate event would be. We are often poorly paid for the amount of hours put in, underappreciated as limited producers in the capitalist system, and each of us are facing just as much uncertainty as our cousins in the theatre and music spheres. No one here is future proof and the new normal is eating into all of our savings.
Just be kind.
Step 5)Mask wearing
VIP guests asked “Should I wear a mask in front of the news cameras?” I worried my lipstick would have rubbed around my mouth like a clown. Should I wear make up under my mask? Should I take my mask off when being interviewed? The government guidelines on mask wearing changed mid-show. Again, I think it’s courteous to ask permission from the press journalist or interlocutor, “do you mind if I take my mask off?” I also think this harks back to the comfort level described above. If you are more comfortable taking precautions your audience might be similar to you and want the same things. If you are feverishly denying this global event and it is part of your brand to clan together with other deniers, you’re probably reading the room correctly and in that kind of event masks might not even be welcome!
Step 6)Cleaning
Keeping a sterile home is impossible, a sterile public space is even more tricky. If it were my gallery, I might have budgeted for more cleaning, however I understand it’s a LOT to do and stay on top of and costly in time and energy or cleaning bills. This is one of those areas of concern that has been voiced to me by parents of young children (as I am) who are already losing the battle of control. I feel it helps to know the space you are entering, as you are also entering into a nonverbal contract of trust. You might have visited in the past and known what their level of cleanliness is or been to similar venues or museums and become familiar with what to expect. Do not expect a higher standard of sterility than what you experienced pre-pandemic, because I can speak with assurance, the post-pandemic world is more strapped for time and cash and the cleaning budget might be one of the first things to slip. If parenting a child who touches everything (and then their mouths) is part of the concern, then this needs to be assessed by the parent who is battling with what compromised level of control they need to in order to enjoy an activity in a public space.
Step 7)Letting Go
This bring us to Step 7, letting go. It’s the day of the show. You’ve survived lockdown. You’ve done the artwork to the peak of your present ability. You’ve prepared the hanging devices. You’ve transported it safely to the venue. You’ve hung and curated the space. The lights are set up. You’ve communicated with transparency to your audience and with kindness to all collaborators. You’ve detailed mask safety, safe entrance and exit, cleanliness and courtesy with everyone involved to a comfort level that suits both you and your guests. You’ve got invitations up online and a microphone available if needed. You’re wearing something you’re excited to wear. (Don’t choose heels after months of not wearing heels! My toes experienced frightening levels of numbness after this event, for a record amount of time!) You’re in place and your car has a little note on it saying “Please don’t tow me, I’m in the gallery right now, please tell me if there’s a problem with parking here,” and similarly, your child is safe at home with a familiar babysitter and a little note that says “Please read her four stories before bed.”
The event started at 6pm.There was a moment only around 5.30 wherein I had a small vision of the near future: I know who I am and what I made, I know what this is going to be.
It was the first time I allowed myself to imagine what it would be like.
Prior to that moment I’d been unable to project a vision of the event. My own fear of the ever-developing pandemic caused a mental imagery block. This is panic. Long term, sustained panic. This is the kind of thing that causes mind-body PTSD. Painting during lockdown through the anxiety and paralysis: unable to be certain if the main exhibition event would happen or not, unable to do anything but respond to the entrapment with landscape art that represents freedom, all I could do was make sure I communicated clearly through my art and show up on the day. It might not have been a perfectly executed event, but I could not be more than I am and the art was exactly as good as I could deliver to the best of my abilities in this exact moment.
How do we calm panic in this instance? How do we cure mind-body PTSD when trying to do something normalizing in a not normal new normal? It feels innocent to offer art to friends post-pandemic, but it’s actually a huge undertaking. So we must circle back to forgiveness. I forgive myself for not following all of social media’s siren calls. I forgive myself for not being as slim as I was before lockdown. I forgive myself for not painting that one painting to the majesty of my original vision. I forgive myself for not being able to have family close-by. I forgive myself for letting go of my normal painting-by-sight. Forgiveness for painting by memory, for my new artistic abstractions which are not my normal skillset, but they are new, evolved skills. I forgive myself for weeping to calm my perfectionism. I forgive myself for making this all that it is, during this strange era, whatever it becomes.
Sustained fear is unhealthy. We have all gone through a major global event with a lot of uncertainty involved. One suggestion in PTSD therapy is to connect mind and body again. Small actions like focusing on the sensation of hair brushing, or taking warm baths, or going for nature walks and paying attention to breathing in sun and air… Also, making movement a part of daily life: silly dancing (be safe wiggling to the radio when in the shower), rough and tumble child’s play, focusing on the tasteful pleasure of healthy food choices. It’s incredibly difficult to find space for small movements when we prioritise big achievements. But without the mindful small movements we can’t survive with mental and physical health intact to enjoy this or the next big events.
Last Step For Life (Never to Forget)Gratitude
Thank your guests for showing up. Thank your art collectors for investing in a living artist. Thank your collaborators for bringing their skills to the table. And acknowledge that your stubborn commitment to your art made a live event. Passing on that commitment to your art is a kind of death, a possible depression and stepping back from an event you committed to would be fading away from the community you’re contributing to, and fading away from the positive vision of vibrant humanity you’re trying to express and keep aflame at this time. The real-life interactions are brimming with possibility at these kinds of events and we all need that kind of optimism at this time. Thank the gallery owner for sharing their space. Thank the journalists for sharing their platforms. Thank the locality for a sense of place. Thank the babysitter for the childcare. Thank the support from the loved ones that are left. And pat yourself on the back for having made something new and hopeful come alive in this ridiculous world.
My art show IMMENSITIES is on until Oct 10th. Art Base, 29 rue des Sables, 1000 Bruxelles
Everyone loves time lapse images, right? Here are some before and after photos, just for you. A smattering of art theory in between, but feel free to scroll through and just enjoy the pretty pictures.
This is the first painting in a collection called IMMENSITIES.
My first step with this painting was visiting and sketching the locations that inspired an entire 20 canvas landscape series. Hallerbos is a huge forest in Belgium. When I was little I was under the impression that bluebells are special because they only grow in the wild. Hallerbos has big wide promenade paths because bluebell colonies take a long time to establish and when crushed can take years to recover. The location of the forest (“bos”) is in Halle, which is mostly in the Flemish Brabant with a little part in Walloon Brabant. It makes Belgian people agree on one thing, which is unusual. Our whole local community, the Flemish, the Walloons and the expat bubble, all equally love the annual display of bluebells at Hallerbos, and there’s a lot of excitement every year when people start asking each other “Are the bluebells out yet? Don’t miss them!”
There are certain places, and certain people, that make me ache to paint them. I feel like even if you lost everything I’ve ever painted, those would represent the essential points of light in my life.
This collection is different from my previous art work because I normally do continuous line portraits and the only landscapes I’ve ever made before were miniatures. The “opening up” giant shapes I intended for this collection, were originally inspired by real out-of-this-world landscapes witnessed as I travelled across Greece. Just the Peloponnese alone has lava sand beaches and slate stone towers on dry mountains and lush vineyards and white sand beaches with ancient temples. One day across one coast is like visiting 7 different country’s landscapes all in one gulp. There are so many dramatic shapes in Greek landscapes, often with a cliff precipice involved. I carry that awareness of the movement of the earth with me now travelling through Belgium. To talk Art Theory of a minute (if not here, then where?), I try to actualise a Kantian understanding of the Sublime in my landscapes: the human-sized relationship to the greater-than-human sized “reveal” of the nature scene. This relates to the title of my art collection, IMMENSITIES, because immense spaces were the starting point and the sublime reaction was the intention behind the work. In Kant’s aesthetics, the sublime (distinct from the beautiful) occurs “when we confront a reality that exceeds our conceptual faculties,” (Martel 45). To be more precise, we experience the sublime when our mind is confronted with reason, which forces the mind to conceptualise the object (the world), but fails to conceptualise because the world is too enormous and overwhelming to be represented as a whole (24). In neurotheology, the part of our brain that experiences awe shuts down our sense of personal circumference. The individual literally lets go to experience the greater whole without ego. A combination of dynamic paint brush strokes mimic hot air shafts, which provides the movement that leads us into the sense of space. The use of paint on the frame should lean us into the depth of the space and lend itself to the enveloping of the enormous scene.
Over the last few years I’ve prepared for these paintings by workshopping unusual real-world shapes, especially landscape shapes in my sketchbooks, with pen and ink and watercolours too.
I spent about a month mixing my own bespoke colour palette for this series. Acrylic paints only because I have a family now and oil paint brush cleaners are toxic. I knew I wanted an Andy Dixon-style use of oil pastel to bring in illustrative details, but I wasn’t sure how I would achieve this on a more textured layering of paint than the flat surface he normally utilises.
It was very difficult to settle on which colours I would use throughout this whole collection. I knew I had to go with essentials rather than nice-to-have colours. I kept having to pull myself back from what are pleasant mixes and return again and again to the mixing board to find what are the essential mixes for me. For example, what is True Red for nobody but me. I found that the only indubitable red, for me, on a gut level is a very orangey red. A glossy red reminiscent of Kazimir Malevich, in my case.
Next step: me overthinking more things, of course. I worried about the cost of framing for the average art collector. There are often three stages of payment for a piece of art: purchase, shipment and framing. I get it. That’s a lot. Someone commissions a painting, pays half up front, or buys one already made and then has to pay for shipping AND framing. Sometimes that takes the art far out of their original budget, or extends the spending process that takes the joy out of the acquisition. So, with full empathy for the person who wants to own art, (and support living artists!), without breaking the bank, I came up with the idea to use beautiful antique frames, with their own original sculptural elements to inspire the shapes in the final artwork (rather than the other way around) and provide the new art owner an easier solution to the cost of framing. This should cut the cost of owning an artwork down by at least a third, and even down by two thirds if they don’t need shipment either.
Belgium has an incredibly rich antique collecting culture. There are regular antique markets, popular antique shops and international annual fairs too. I was enrapt when first visiting the “Old Market,” Jeu de Balle, in the Marolles district of Brussels. One of the most famous weekend antique markets, it was a living museum. Handling Delftware, Bavarian mugs, French asparagus plates, even original silver Art Nouveau period antiques, I realised there was a distinct diversity here: Belgium sits between the Netherlands, Germany and France. Of course the antique markets will reflect that crossroad! Then, most brilliantly, Art Nouveau was born in Belgium, in the middle of all that, of course. Sourcing the antique frames for this series was an exciting, educational hunt. I learnt a lot about history through the objects we treasure. (Even bought an antique that we traced to a friend’s grandparent’s honeymoon!)
A lot of sanding and cleaning and priming went into prepping these frames. I had to hold a vision for the final image, for each of the paintings, already in mind all the way back then, while choosing the size of the frame and the background tone for that canvas. Holding 20 visions for 20 paintings while working for over a year, while being interrupted by family every day. It’s a challenge.
I prepared preliminary sketches with a rough placing of the final images so I could visualise them even better. Then measured the gallery walls to check I had everything lined up correctly. Then bought new canvases to fill those frames.
By that time the holiday season was upon us, so I brought my studio work right into our living room. No, we do not have the extra space. Yes, I did get a little help from the mini artist.
I painted them multiple times to get a richness of tone for even that very fundamental base layer. With different colours layering on top of each other, only barely visible through thin patches, there’s a sense that emotions are bubbling under the surface.
I had intended to only work on largescale Greek landscapes but the curator at Art Base gallery suggested that I prepare works based on my travels through Belgium too, because as he put it, “That has been my personal journey, as a visual artist.”
After months of discussions with Art Base gallery over solo show scheduling, doing 40 other continuous line paintings for another solo art show at the EU Parliament, framing a different collection for another auction, and the final confirmation of the next artshow dates, I finally, FINALLY, got that sweet and scary deadline to work towards, and could focus on these antique-frame-painted paintings with the knowledge they had a host gallery waiting for them, somewhere truly special where they could come alive in the world.
The next stage was to think long and hard about the different points of light inside The Blue Forest (Hallerbos) and choose the part that felt like the heart of the place, to me. This was done from memory. Then to plot the best version of that on the canvas. Shaping the way you move toward it on the path through the trees, I wanted the forest to bend like a fisheye lens to the big reveal of the bluebell carpet that is blooming on the near horizon. This meant that I even had to have the light source and the fallen puddles of light already in mind before layering up all the foreground details.
When paint brushes finally hit the canvas, the first global lockdown in the history of civilization had just begun. Painting landscapes in lockdown felt like grief. It hurt to think of all the beautiful places we had travelled and the great outdoors. Nature felt inaccessible at the time of painting. Memories could be my only reference.
It was at this point that I came to the title for the whole collection. IMMENSITIES just fit. I think a lot about the theory and the philosophy behind the art, and I think a lot about the largess I want to convey. The sense that with this painting you have a new window in your home. The idea that you could walk into it and get a lungful of fresh air. I needed a word that reflected both the big ideas behind the pieces and the big views inside them too.
Where did the word come from? While painting I was listening to an audio recording of Howard’s End by EM Forster. It had been 20 years since I’d read the book and unlike most books, it ripened with age and was well worth the reread. Elizabeth Klett’s free Librivox’s recording is exceptional. The locations in the book are both intimate and immense. I listened while I painted as the characters were also listening, me to them and them to Beethoven. EM Forster was excited to describe Beethoven’s Fifth. He suggests that even if we lost everything else Beethoven had ever written:
If we lost everything he wrote except what is in this key, we should still have the essential Beethoven, the Beethoven tragic, the Beethoven so excited at the approach of something enormous that he can only just interpret and subdue it. It would be a pity to lose a Beethoven unbuttoned, a Beethoven yodelling, but this musician excited by immensities is unique in the annals of any art. No one has ever been so thrilled by things so huge, for the vast masses of doom crush the rest of us before we can hope to measure them. Fate knocks at our door; but before the final tap can sound, the flimsy door flies into pieces, and we never learn the sublime rhythm of destruction.
Howard’s End, page 120
Excited by immensities. That’s me. That’s exactly the work I’m doing here.
I’ll admit it. I always panic halfway through every painting. I call it the Midway Blues. It’s no longer the promise and potential of the start, nor the pleasure of completion at the end. I also wonder whether the final vision will be achieved and if the work in progress is not already beautiful enough… I’m taking a chance, a leap of wobbly faith, that my skills will be able to carry the vision all the way through the painting process to an objective audience’s satisfactory completion. I doubt myself. I often weep. It’s a frustrating moment. Just like Forster describes Beethoven’s music, the Fifth in particular, as the place of a “thrilling” conflict between the composer and “something enormous,” “immense,” “the sublime rhythm of destruction,” I needed to fully digest the vastness of the scene and with my own painting rhythm, layer it up and over itself, with layered paint upon paint, getting over myself in the process.
The thing that drove me through the halfway point on this Hallerbos painting was the knowledge that the bluebell forest is more shady than at that point in the painting process. It had more depth. It needed a lot more shade. Only then would the magnificence of the blue bells pop on the canvas, as they do in real life. If the real life shade of the woods had not been essential, to my commitment to the real place, I could have just left the canvas at the midway point. It was pretty enough. But pretty enough doesn’t cut it, in my book.
I layered on the shadowy bits, the crinkly bits, the leaves, the bluebells themselves. And finished it. Got it as close to my original vision as humanly possible, then varnished it. The painting was ready to visit the photographer’s studio. On the first day of the newly relaxed quarantine measures I put on a mask and gloves and drove to the studio of the incredible photographer Iris Haidau. I’m trying to get better at keeping a record of these works before they go live in your house!
Here is the final painting. I love it so much and can’t wait to share it with you, in person, at the artshow in September. I know when you see it in real life you’ll fall deep inside it and want this extra room in your home as seen through this handpainted window.
If you buy it here or at the show, I’d be delighted this painting found a happy home. That said, if nobody buys it, I honestly don’t care. It was so successful. I wouldn’t mind having this horizon in my own home from here on out.
Painting: Hallerbos, Belgium 100x70cm (39.3×27.5in) €850 Buy now. Contact me to discuss art shipment.
Sept 24 ArtBase show: IMMENSITIES
My journey across Greece to Belgium. Unexpected colours spill out frames, celebrate the vastness of nature. Painted from memory in lockdown, 20 canvases designed to make new windows in your home.
Today we lost someone who fought against fascism and oppression his whole life.
A Greek national hero, Manolis Glezos first inspired the Resistance by tearing the Nazi flag down from the Acropolis with his bare hands.
We met him here in Brussels where he was still working to fight against, you guessed it, fascism and oppression.
Glezos passed away today.
He lived an incredible life, fierce and filled with humour too. Today we are especially quiet and sad locked in our homes, observing social distancing as per the global crisis that feels funereal most days anyway.
I’m so grateful to have met a hero. To have had him over for tea. To have witnessed the energy that it took to be a force of humanity for as many years as he gave and gave and gave.
He inspired me to make two portraits of him and inspires me to keep giving too.
I made this sketch when Manolis Glezos visited us. I hope you can see his compassion and magnetism in the connection he shared. This was long before the oil portrait he gave me permission to paint which I shared and wrote about here:
I hope when this global health crisis is over we can travel again to Apiranthos, his village on the highest mountains on the island of Naxos where the hardiest fighters are buried.
A quick video, just a minute from my speech at the European Parliament’s Feminist Forum with reactions & testimonies from viewers.
Below you can find the text from the short video and credit to all the people involved.
Tamar Levi – Artist:
You know who these women are!
Somebody cooked your meals
Somebody wiped your bottom
Somebody cleaned your house
Everyone on these walls is someone who has worked for others
They may not be famous
They may not be familiar
But they should be celebrated.
They are the invisible labour made visible.
The style that I apply is the continuous line style I don’t lift my brush off the paper I don’t lift my pen off the paper I work in one continuous line Some journalists have called it The Single Line Method.
To me it’s about continuity.
I want to dedicate this entire collection
To my grandmother
She passed away this week…
She taught me to fight for other women
And fight for my education…
Sandra Pereira – GUENGL MEP – PCP – Portugal:
We would like to thank Tamar Levi for this exhibition.
It was really a very good idea. And it was a great contribution to the event. The event became richer because of the pictures, because of her explanation of the images. It was really really good to have you here. Thank you so much.
Ewa Espling – Politician – Activist – Sweden – Vänsterpartist:
It was absolutely the exhibition I wanted to see! And the theme of the exhibition about us women Together, and how we depend on each other It was incredibly beautiful. Went straight into my heart. Thank you!
Tamar Levi – Artist:
This is Women’s Day 2020 & “20/20” in English means “Clear Vision” So for you here today These are 20 visionary women For Women’s Day 2020 Thank you!
Video: Vasileios Katsardis/Olivier Hansen
Les Femmes et La Revolution Event Organiser: Charlotte Balavoine
Curator: Green Door Gallery
Artwork: Brush & Acrylic Black Ink, Watercolour Paper
Portrait References: Sarah Levi, Grandmother, Teacher, Union Representative Dalia Aviv Levi, Sister, Aunt Grace Ketty Cardon, School Founder & Director Bhushavali Natarajan, Parent, Friend, Eco-Fashion designer & Heritage Travel Blogger Vaia Vaena and Christina, Friend, Parent, Lawyer Linguist & The Future Meghan Sinnott, Lifelong Friend Elena Kountoura, Member of European Parliament, Parent, Former Minister of Tourism, Model & Athlete Christina Abood, Mother, Friend, Mirth-maker, Lawyer Joana Xhemali, Feminist Killjoy & Stop Gap Child Care Provider Athanasia Katsigianni Sandra Hodzic, Friend, Parent, Journalist Naomi Lee Gal Gal Porat, Cousin, Friend Dr. Vanessa Katsardi, Sister-in-Law & Professor of Engineering Aneta Safaryn, Friend & Home Keeping Support Helen O’Sullivan-Tyrrell, Artist, Friend, Curator Ahu Yigit, Parent, Friend & Photographer Margaret Joyce Sweet, First Time Great-Grandmother, Women’s Land Army (WWII) & Timber Corps Anna Giannopappa and Chryssa, “Koumbara” (Best Woman in Greek Tradition), Parent, Friend Athanasia Delistamati, Evgenia Delistamati & Tova Niovi Levi Katsardi, Cousins Reading “Goodnight Stories for Rebel Girls” Dr. Bona Selimaj, Paediatric Doctor, Parent, Friend Giannoula Katsigianni, Great-Grandmother, Resistance Member, Business Enterprise Founder Eliza Sfyra, Dancer, Book Lover, Engineer, Godmother Michele Lalić, Parent, Friend, Nonprofit Professional Nina Lucija Lalić and John Larimer, The Future & Her Grandfather Beata Szypcio, Friend, Parent, House Keeper Support Silvia Anna Ratzersdorfer, Friend, Co-Author, Art Historian Sofia Sereti, Child Care Provider, Friend Mathilde Borcard, Therapist, Trauma Activist, Body Worker, Community Builder Athanasia Katsigianni, Grandmother, Mother-in-Law, Business Director Konstandinka Kouneva, Friend, Parent, Former MEP, Union Leader, Disabilities Activist Solly Elstein, Fairy Godmother, Fairy Goddaughter, Linguist, Global Citizen Sarah Ironside, Be Kind, Be Happy Eleana Ziakou, Friend, Parent, Literary Translator Efthimia Eleftheria Fotou, Friend, Child Care Support, Policy Maker
Panel Speakers:
Ewa Espling, Politician, Activist, Sweden, Vänsterpartist Sandra Pereira, Eurodeputee, Portugal, Coordinatrice FEMM pour GUE-NGL Sira Rego, Eurodeputee espagne, Vice-presidente de la GUE-NGL Saliha Boussedra, Docteure en philosophie d l’universite de Strasbourg Francoise De Smedt, deputee Bruxelloise, membre de la commission femmes du PTB Jule Goikoetxea, Professeure a l’Universite du Pays-Basque Pernando Barrena, eurodepute du Pays-Basque Pierrette Pape, directrice d’Isala, coordinatrice de #GenerationAbolition, Belgique Maite Lonne, survivante, autrice, militante, Belgique Pascale Rouges, survivante, militante, Belgique Marie Merklinger, survivante, militante, Allemagne Anne Darbes, survivante, autrice de “Le Visage de l’Autre,” France Malin Bjork, eurodeputee, Suede Anne Mejias De Haro, Juriste, syndicaliste CGT Carine Rosteleur, infirmiere, secretaire regionale CGSP sur le mouvement des “Blouses Blancs” Belgique Alba de Vincente Barbero: greve generale en Espagne le 8 mars. Oihana Etxebarrieta, membre du Parlement autonome basque Notopoulou Aikaterini SYRIZA, deputee, region de Thessalonique Irini Agathopoulou Member of Parliament, SYRIZA Concert Manou Gallo- la reine de l’Afro Groove
This is your invitation. My artwork will be exhibited in the European Parliament on the 4th of March. These continuous line paintings are women who are not famous but deserve to be celebrated. Without them this world would not function. Cleaners, doctors, policy makers, grandmothers, authors, big thinkers, child care providers, healthcare providers, translators, school directors, eco warriors, entrepreneurs, charity workers, activists, social workers, cooks, athletes, non-binary parents, homemakers and more. My art aims to make their invisible labour visible, their achievements & their daughters too. Invited to the walls of the epic Feminist Forum, they represent my deeply personal vision of plurality in feminism. Here they are, 20 Women for Women’s Day 2020. Look, you are invited too. Contact me to get your details on the security list.
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Brief Bio
Educated in London and Cambridge, Tamar has published as an author, illustrator and editor of multiple award-wining books designed for families, classrooms and doctors. Her prized artwork is highly collectible, commissioned by private collectors, sold at private auctions and exhibited in galleries around Europe.