by Michelle Potter Artist - Energy Worker - Wayshower | Aug 27, 2024 | Art as Therapy, Artwork, Blogs, Cancer, Life Lessons, Updates
It was 2012, I was asked to be part of advertisement from my health insurer BUPA Australia. The film maker was genuinely interested in my story. We met up for coffee after my interview and he was discussing my art. He said “I don’t want to see whats in here” pointing to his head, “I want to see what you can do from here”, pointing to his heart.
It had been several months after my surgery and hadn’t yet started pastel art classes. Up until this time I thought I was painting from my heart, so I was a bit confused. I had started a painting of a peacock and it sat untouched for two years after this coffee catch up. Yes. it took another 2 years worth of arting before I truly understand what he meant!
The start of my peacock painting.
Part of the creative, learning, pathway is finding your authenticity. Your style, your mark, your reason. Something that defines you as an artist.
As a beginner, which I was at the time, I was copying from other artists. A bit from here and a bit from there, and there is nothing wrong with that, as we all have to start somewhere. I still take courses from other artists and absolutely love it, it keeps my creative flow going without the brain power. However the only way to find your own style is through an openness to learn and lots of practice.
There is a real vulnerability in trying something new. What if I fail? What if my art is crap? What if people laugh at me? What if people tell me I’m wasting my time? Am I wasting my time? Am I too old to learn something new? I don’t really have what it takes? I’m sure there has been a time in every one’s life when you may have said things like this to yourself.
Let’s look from a slightly different perspective. What if I’m really good at this? What have I got to lose by trying? What if this opens doors for me that I never thought possible? Does this make me feel good? Does this challenge me? Do, I really care what anyone else thinks? Does it light me up inside? And also in my case- What if I have been given a second chance and I don’t use it?
One thing I never thought I would get out of my cancer experience, was a real sense of joy, strength and determination.
Old Michelle lacked self confidence. She would never step too far out of her comfort zone (this was her self protection mechanism). She would self sabotage. This included lots of negative self talk. She never did anything if she thought she would fail at it. She struggled with boundaries and communication. She craved ‘me time’ but in a negative destructive drunk teenager kind of way. She was pretty angry and frustrated with life and swallowed that shit down like hot lava. (Honestly I’m not surprised the cancer ended up in my stomach). All smiles on the outside, but on the inside she was really, really unhappy.
Here I was thinking the world was conspiring against me and then BAM! You want out, here’s your opportunity. You want to be skinny, you don’t know what skinny is. You want your life to be completely different, hold on baby you’re in for one hell of a ride. WARNING: Be careful what you wish for.
Cancer gives you an opportunity to review your life. Parts of you are left exposed. Parts of you are vulnerable. Parts are angry, confused, grieving and at the same time new parts start to open up. You find gratitude in small gestures and the kindness of strangers. Points of unbearable pain make you appreciate just being able to wake up and have an unaided shower. If you embrace the unknown journey ahead then you can gain great insight and clarity into your own life. In among the chaos you have an opportunity to find your authentic self. Difficult times make you stretch further than you think is humanly possible. This is why, I believe, you have your biggest growth during your toughest times.
My art journey started because when I got creative, it made me feel good. Taking the next step and going to class helped me connect with other artists as well as helping me learn the basics. It was a big step to do something just for me. I had two primary age children at home and a lot of responsibility when my husband went back to work after my illness. But I quickly started to realise that it was really important that I make time for me. I wasn’t just a wife, mother and step mum. Before all that responsibility entered my life, I was just Michelle, me. Now I had to navigate what life looked like without a stomach. I had to rediscover who I was again and what was my new normal. Surly if I could learn how to live without a stomach I could learn a new craft?
I like that my styles and mediums can change, as long as I embrace my authentic self while discovering it.
My first reminder is to do what lights me up. If it’s painting one week and pottery the next then that’s what it is. The world needs butterflies as much as it needs bees (metaphorically that is).
My second reminder is to create for the pure pleasure of doing it. When the tide goes out on a project, just let it go! It’s bound to come back in again and when it does you’ll have lots of new ideas to add to it.
My third thing to reminder is that I know who I am and what I’m good at, and I don’t need any outside validation to feel good about myself. I will find my tribe and they will find me.
Remember there is enough work out there for everyone. If you use somebody’s artwork for inspiration then make sure that you credit them. If you do a class with another artist, then make sure you credit them. If you love another artist work, make sure that you share their work and credit them. If you share an image on your socials, well you get the idea, credit the artist!
The art community is a small community and if we can help each other and build each other up then maybe we can inspire others to get creative as well.
Win-win.
The world needs more artists.
by Michelle Potter Artist - Energy Worker - Wayshower | Aug 11, 2024 | Art as Therapy, Blogs
Let’s rewind to wear it all began.
I was only 6 years old when my father died and I remember those early weeks quite distinctly. Dad had bowel cancer and from diagnosis to his passing was about 4 months. One day he got sick and the next day he was gone.
Everyone bought me gifts. Passing mourners that entered our home brought me something nice, shiny and new. I was never a spoilt child and these sorts of presents were normally reserved for Christmas and birthdays. I was supposed to be sad wasn’t I? How could I possibly be sad when I had all these wonderful new toys to distract me. It was a very emotionally confusing time for me.
The morning of the funeral, I recall my grandparents pulling up the driveway quite early. I was excited because Grandad was here and it wasn’t even the weekend. He was all dressed up in his suit and tie. My Nan never got out of the car, and my excitement was short-lived as I also saw the neighbour, who always ate the best biscuits when she babysat, trundling up behind. Then Mum said goodbye and left. I remember watching them leave in Grandad’s car and feeling terrible and confused about the whole thing.
I cannot recall them telling me they were burying my Dad that day because that would be something I would definitely remember. I was just annoyed and confused that they had gone somewhere without me, and I was left in the house with the lady from around the corner who would tie her kid to the clothesline by his child harness.
Mum wanted me to remember Dad the way he was, not laying in a box, and as a parent we all have to make terribly difficult decisions. But I never had a chance to say goodbye. I never even had a chance to grieve. I carried that grief with me for over 30 years until I lost my second pregnancy at 11 weeks. The impact of well-meaning decisions around my father’s death influenced so much of my life. It wasn’t until I had children of my own that I realised how important it was that, no matter how hard, little humans also need a space to grieve.
As adults, we do everything possible to protect our children from the hurts and pain of the world, but it catches up. It’s not something that ever goes away until we are faced to deal with it differently. I spent many many years grieving the loss of my father instead of praising the effects and hard work of my mother. It was always about the loss for me. The Dad who didn’t come to special Father’s Day events. The Dad that couldn’t walk me down the aisle. The Dad I couldn’t hug and confide in because, well, he was dead. All I had for many years was a plague in a crematorium and no closure.
The void this created was a severe sense of lack. My mother became fiercely independent, and to her credit, we never went without. I may have grown up on second-hand clothes and Vegemite sandwiches, but we never went hungry, we always had clothes, and we always had a roof over our heads.
Losing a father figure at a very young age changed the course of my life and it hasn’t been all bad. Pain can bring out the worst and the best in some people. Not all people that are hurting hurt people.
Art has taught me how to express emotion productively and positively. Take my latest ‘Art with Heart’ cards as an example. I needed a constructive way to view my situation when I was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. I knew exactly what the negative self-talk was telling me, and sometimes, it was dressed up with pretty clothes and lipstick. This is why the negative side of these cards looks attractive and colourful, not dark and foreboding.
It’s a tough journey taking a good hard look in the mirror and recognising everything that needs to change within ourselves. The ego is designed to protect us and sometimes it takes a hard life lesson or two to knock us back on the right path.
Cancer turns you inside out. It affects everything and everyone around you. I believe my stomach cancer was my massive initiation into my life’s purpose. My more recent cancer diagnosis was to just make sure I’d learned my lessons. There are still lessons as part of this process, but I’m pretty confident I’m done.
I got it loud and clear.
Boundaries, non judgment, forgiveness.
Done done done.
Please, Universe, let me be done. I’ll be quite happy to shine right up until my number is up.
by Michelle Potter Artist - Energy Worker - Wayshower | Jul 20, 2024 | Art as Therapy, Artwork, Blogs, Cancer, Life Lessons, Pancreatic Cancer, Stomach Cancer, Updates
I asked a musician friend of mine how he feels when people request his old songs. It was a question he hadn’t been asked before. After some thought, he told me that most times, he didn’t mind, but he preferred to play his new work.
Someone mentioned to me that they preferred my old abstract work. I can’t deny it; I felt a little insulted. Looking back at some of my old pieces, I’m embarrassed that I sold them and even more surprised that people wanted them. Given the chance I would recycle all the canvases! I’ve never understood how some artists are happy painting the same thing over and over and over for years. The repetitive nature of that would bore me to tears. Art, like music, should evolve with you, but that’s my opinion!
Initially, I posted my paintings on Facebook in an album on my personal profile. Like most mum-start-up businesses, I started with friends and family. I knew someone who worked in a little florist shop, so my paintings also hung on the wall on consignment. I even managed to sell a few.
In those early years, I learnt a few big lessons about shops and consignment paintings, but when you are starting out, you are genuinely grateful for the exposure and a space to sell your work.
Side note: For those unfamiliar with consignment work, an artist can work out a mutual agreement with a shop or space that benefits both parties. In my experience, it is good to have everything in writing so you are all on the same page. Also, be aware that any loss or damage caused to your artwork during its duration in the space may not be covered. For some reason, people like to touch paintings, especially kids with sticky little fingers
Facebook was in its infancy, and as my work started getting traction, I created a business Page called Paintings by Michelle. These were the days when people who liked your Page actually got to see your posts. Abstract was my thing, and the kitchen bench was my workspace. Painting by day and cooking for the family by night. It was good as I had to pack everything up by 4pm before dinner prep. It was also bad as I had to pack every thing up by 4pm before dinner prep!
Creating with molding paste and acrylic paint gave some great textures to the artwork and I really enjoyed being able to experiment. I had absolutely no idea what I was doing but I knew that it made me feel good. I didn’t know it then, but I was inviting my inner child to come out and play. An opportunity to be vulnerable, to experiment, to be messy and most of all open up to joy. Selling the art was an extra bonus. At that point in time, I was fully intending to return to the workforce. This was my self-indulgent fun, not a career. Everyone knows that you can’t make money from art….right?
Let’s discuss pushing through the ugly. Every artist knows that all paintings go through an ugly stage. Ugly parts of a painting, ugly parts of life. Same, same but different. It’s one thing to push through the ugly supported and a completely different thing pushing through the ugly on your own. Unfortunately, in 2011, there were not a lot of resources for Stomach cancer patients. I had to look overseas to find groups, and through that, I found other Australians who were going through similar experiences as myself.
Pushing through the ugly gets you out of your comfort zone. I couldn’t find the resources I needed to support myself, so I created one. I called it Support Group for Partial and Total Gastrectomy Patients and later changed the name to Gastrectomy Connections. Through the 12 years I administered the group along with a handful of volunteers, I connected with people all over the world. It became (and still is) an invaluable resource for many people heading into gastric surgery because of cancer or health-related gastrointestinal issues. A few years later, a sister group was started, and between us, we created a combined community of around 3 thousand members. Two years ago, I hung up my admin hat and handed the website and group over to a large not-for-profit in the States. Sometimes, you get to create something that grows so much larger than you, and then it’s your job to let it go, and that’s exactly what I did.
As the saying goes, ‘You grow through what you go through.’ Whether that is a new skill or a life-changing experience, the more you work at it, the more you learn. I really believe that it helped open me up to a more diverse and wider perspective on life, people, and how I viewed the world. If it wasn’t for my cancer, I would not have been prepared for what life had in store for me. It was the groundwork for everything that was to come.
Image Ref : Michelle Potter Artist 2024
by Michelle Potter Artist - Energy Worker - Wayshower | Jul 20, 2024 | Art as Therapy, Artwork, Blogs, Cancer, Life Lessons, Pancreatic Cancer, Stomach Cancer, Updates
When I taught pastel art classes, I would divide beginner students into two categories: bakers and quilters. Like the ‘Pastel Whisperer,’ I would know within minutes what someone’s preferred style of drawing was. It was like a magic trick!
Remember the Swedish chef from the muppets? He would appear to have a plan but by the end of the scene he would have flour all over the place! This Baker type of artist doesn’t mind creative play (mess), and are usually happy to do some free-styling . They generally listen for a short time before the temptation of starting the drawing takes over. By the time we are ready to go they are already in their own creative flow. Call it impatience or intuition (probably a bit of both), these artists love colour, the more the better. They are less likely to procrastinate over mistakes, rather, learning to fix things as they go. They may love or hate what they create, but have fun getting there. Most first time bakers are remarkably surprised at what they can achieve.
Then there is a Quilter artist. These artists love step by step instructions. They listen intently, and if they could follow a PDF and a power point presentation at the same time, even better! They will only use the colours I suggest, give or take a shade, and they love symmetry. They like to be precise and don’t necessarily want to look outside the box, they want to draw the box. They like to envision the outcome. They replace spontaneity with perfectionism, and stumbling blocks are as red as stop signs. If a quilter makes a mistake it takes a lot of self control not start again. They create their best work if given the space and time to complete the task, which in a class environment can be tricky. They are very critical of their own work and can have a great deal of trouble getting out of their own heads. Satisfied but knowing they can do better next time, most quilters underestimate how good their first pastel painting is.
The good news is a baker can refine their art like a quilter and a quilter can loosen up and become a bit more of a baker. All both types of beginner artists need is a willingness to learn. Just add all the P’s into the mix, patience, perseverance, persistence and practice! In case you haven’t guessed already, I started off as a baker!
I always loved art days and my art teacher Mrs Lewis. We would wear our little art smocks and walk up the corridor in two lines. The smell of clag (pasty white glue) and student paint became the most exciting part of my week. A room where I could escape into another world for a while.
I remember a day we were all drawing in class. Pretty sure I was drawing a Toby mug. My horrible stepdad was an avid collector and had made our family room look more like a museum when he moved all his stuff in. I remember being terribly proud of what I’d done. When I put my hand up to let my teacher know I’d finished I was beaming with pride. I thought for sure she was going to tell me how good it was. Instead she did what no art teacher should ever do. She got her pencil and without asking she drew on my paper. A line here and a line there she managed to destroyed my art. Well I exaggerate, she probably didn’t destroy it however at the time I was left feeling really angry and disappointed.
I had spent all class on this piece and in my eyes she’d managed to ruin it with a few pencil lines. This day I learned that it is NEVER okay to touch someone else’s work without asking for their permission first.
As frustrating as it can be, part of the learning process is to fix things (obviously under instruction if you are in a learning environment) by yourself. Some students prefer help but I really encourage them to do it themselves just as Lynn mentored me. Not many people are born with amazing natural talent. If you want to become a good artist you need to train your ‘artists’ eyes to see things that muggles can’t! Encouraging and instructing a student rather that ‘fixing’ their work leaves them with a much better sense of self satisfaction and accomplishment. Frustration and pushing through the ugly stages of a painting is part of the process.
When I picked up that first pastel in Lynn’s class I was overwhelmed with everything that I needed to learn. One thing I had to remember was I was a beginner and we all have to start somewhere. All too often beginners compare their start to someone else’s finish and I was no different.
The baker artist in me had to slow down. I needed to be patient and kind to myself. I had to listen, practice and learn the basics. Similarly I had to slow down and learn how to eat again after my stomach cancer surgery. Everything needed to be chopped down into achievable bite-size pieces. In fact when I first got home for hospital all I could manage was an ice cube tray portion at a time. Literally, my life was reflected in art.
My biggest inner battle was knowing I had been gifted this second chance at life and I didn’t want to waste a precious moment by slowing down. Could I ever put my fear aside always knowing that the other foot could drop? Maybe there was more to this art stuff than I had thought.
One of the big lessons I learned through my first cancer was there was very little I could control. I had to lean into trust and become as vulnerable as I had ever been. My art however gave me a sense of self that I had never experienced. I was healing, discovering and opening myself up to a different type of vulnerability. It felt odd to find joy amongst so much turmoil and suffering. It helped me regain some control and focus while my body no longer cooperated with me, as my friendships had a huge overhaul and my grief spilled over. My anger and sadness about what was being taken away from me started to disappear with the kilos.
Discovering my new normal was like leaning how to walk all over again and was the hardest and most difficult recoveries I have ever had to endure. Learning a new skill that I could control was a blessing during some of my darkest days.
Image Ref: https://themuppets.tumblr.com/post/150975848319/so-you-know-the-swedish-chef-makes-his-famous
by Michelle Potter Artist - Energy Worker - Wayshower | Jul 11, 2024 | Art as Therapy, Blogs, Cancer, Life Lessons, Updates
A creative life is an interesting and challenging one. My mind has so many fleeting ideas. It takes practice to catch the right one and transform it into physical form.
Being creative has taught me that completing cycles carries over into life to help me finish things that I start. Not everything mind you, I am a work in progress!
The irony is, that once that thought is out there, if you don’t action it, someone else will. How many times have you heard someone say “I thought of that years ago. That was my idea.” Well technically it might have been, however, if you do nothing with the gift the universe gave to you don’t expect it to hang around! It wants to be birthed into the world.
The creative process made me question everything I ever thought myself capable of doing. For me that meant the four P’s. Patience, persistence, perseverance and practice.
Remember when I told my art mentor Lynn that I could not draw animals or people? Have you seen my art? I can most definitely draw those things, and so much more.
Let me take you back to Christmas 1978. There was a whole school competition to design a Christmas card and everyone had a chance to draw something. Granted, I had lost my Dad that year and the teachers probably all got together and thought it would be a nice gesture for me to be the winner. Of course I don’t know that as fact and I certainly wouldn’t have known that back then. So, when it was announced that my drawing had won the competition, I was so excited. My little stick drawing of Joseph and Mary kneeling down looking at the crib with baby Jesus. Designed by Michelle Potter written on the back. The very first time I ever saw my name published in ink.
My neighbour was someone I looked up to like a big sister. She was two years older than me and most days her, her sister and myself all walked to school together. After the winner had been announced she came up to me in the school corridor and told me that my drawing was really bad. That there were so many better drawings than mine. Then she blurted out ‘You just won because your Dad died’. My little heart was crushed. Looking back now I know she was probably jealous, because to her, I was getting an awful lot of attention, but to my seven-year-old self, it was like she had torn the sun out of the sky just because she could.
It planted a seed of doubt that me winning had nothing to do with my talent. I was now questioning, like most things that happened around my Father‘s death, that people wanted me to be happy and were doing nice things because they felt sorry for me, with of course the exception of my neighbour!
I believe this had a big impact on my art at a young age. It was the creation of a belief pattern that if I did something well, people I loved were going tear it down and often it was someone that I trusted. That being good at something brought out jealousy and nasty behaviour. From this moment I started to think it was much better to blend in and not stand out.
This pattern was repeated, confirmed and reinforced in different forms throughout my 13 years of classical ballet and schooling. I deliberately sabotaged myself and never excelled at anything because success meant I wouldn’t be liked. And I really needed to be liked.
Throughout all my childhood challenges I wish I’d had someone to encourage and nurture the creative side of myself. Someone to show me that I never really wanted to be like everybody else. I think the closest I ever got was my high school drama teacher Miss Collins. She was petite with short blonde spiky hair, wore baggy jeans and vests. (Very 80’s). She was a little bit out there and I loved her for it. I especially remember the day we all sang the Na na na nananana, nannana part of ‘Hey Jude’ so loud in a portable classroom, the teacher next door came in to see if our class had a teacher. I’ll never forget how red Miss Collins cheeks went with embarrassment.
A very important lesson for me is from the book ‘The Artist Way’. Julia Cameron uses the analogy of an elephant. That different people in your life will only see parts of you. Your work colleagues may only see the trunk, your family may see the side and your friends the tail. Very rarely will anyone see the entire elephant. Your entire self.
As an adult I now understand how important it is to surround yourself with the right people. To do what I love just for the joy of creating. It was never my intention to make a business out of it (if I can even call it that). It’s a platform to show off that baby Jesus Christmas card and If I make some money in the process then yay me.
by Michelle Potter Artist - Energy Worker - Wayshower | Jun 21, 2024 | Art as Therapy, Artwork, Blogs, Cancer, Life Lessons, Pancreatic Cancer
I didn’t specifically mean to go down a pathway of art as therapy and a form of healing; rather, it found me.
It was 2012, and I was still in recovery from my stomach cancer. My life as I knew it had been turned on its head. In a parallel universe, I’m sure I was enjoying motherhood and socialising, and my hopes of finding myself again included rejoining the workforce. This timeline, however, looked very different.
I started back up again at a weekly women’s circle, and my circle mentor suggested that I try pastel drawing. Up until now, I had only ever played with abstract acrylic art, and I dabbled with some cartoons. My mum was the artist in the family, not me!
Side note: In truth, when I first started Circle in August 2009, my interests were mainly focused on developing my psychic abilities. As it turned out, this was not a class about chakras, crystals or the paranormal. Most weeks were spent peeling off layer after layer of belief and societal patterns, fears, religious dogma and lifetimes of karmic dross. I learned a lot about myself during these years, and it had its time and place in my life, but by August 2017, I was grateful when the spotlight didn’t fall on me on a Monday night. There was a moment when I knew in my heart that it was time to step out of Circle. It had been brewing for a while, and one thing I knew for sure was I shouldn’t feel worse when I left than when I entered. It had become a toxic environment for me. It is an interesting reflection knowing that Circle itself became something that I needed to let go of.
Lynn Whitty (Shiona as she is known in the Spirit Art World) became my art mentor for many years after 2012. I remember getting my first packet of mungyo soft pastels and driving myself to her then home in Springvale (southeast of Melbourne). She had the most amazing acrylic painting, which had been an Archibald entry, hung at her front door. I stood there in awe and thought to myself, ‘ One day, I want to be able to paint like that.’
Lyn is a bright and colourful character. Her modern hairstyle, funky glasses, and laugh make her stand out in any crowd. The room she taught from had a room full of easels. It was warm and cozy, with years of pastel dust staining the carpet. I felt instantly comfortable. As several other ladies came in, chatting, mingling and settling down with cups of tea, Lynn asked what I wanted to get out of class. I stated “I can’t draw animals and I can’t draw people.” Boy, was I wrong!
My first drawing was of a man in a green cape with a wolf. It was pretty two dimensional, and his eyes were a little close set, but considering I had never used soft pastels before, I was really proud of what I had achieved.
Something shifted in me during that first lesson. I realised I was capable of much more than I had imagined. Getting through stomach cancer and surgery had mostly been out of my control. I had to hand my life over to other people. I had to trust that the doctors, surgeons and specialists did what they were trained to do.
There were many lessons in there for me, including that of letting go and being more vulnerable than I had ever been in my life. This ‘creating space’, however, was a place that was just mine. A place where my inner child could learn and play.
My inner child! Of course, I had been neglecting her. I had all this grown-up, responsible stuff to do. From the age of 6, when I lost my father to bowel cancer, I became the responsible one. My childhood had been cruelly snatched out from under me, and now, with the help of my cancer, I had a chance to embrace her again.
This time, she could be encouraged, nurtured and supported, and I realised it was my job to give her the time and effort she needed to flourish. I was starting to really understand the meaning of gratitude and abundance. My vulnerability had opened up possibilities. It created a place for growth and transformation, so that is what I chose.
If I could get through stage 3 cancer, then my life, as I knew it, had already jumped tracks. What did I have to lose? The worst that could happen is that I could fail dismally. But how was I ever going to know unless I gave it a go?
My Wednesday mornings became my ritualistic art day. I set up a small easel at home in our family room and I worked at my craft every single day. This was the beginning of my art as therapy.
