Creatively capturing a calm state of mind

Be aware of the memories that you immerse yourself in

According to my phone, I currently have over 13,000 photos saved, which seems a tad ridiculous. Even considering that these photos go back to 2010, that’s still so many photos!

I’m old enough to remember when you had to load a roll of 35mm film into a camera that wasn’t part of your phone. It always seemed like such a disaster when you realized after getting the photos back from the developer that you’d wasted one of those precious 36 images because you snapped a photo with the lens cap on or had included the tip of your finger in an otherwise perfect photo.

So what are we doing with this ability to snap a near-limitless number of photos?

In our household, it’s often photos of us when we’re eating out, pictures of cute coffee art, Lucy sleeping in incredibly awkward positions and those “we were there” type photos that get taken on vacation.

Even in an age of abundant snapshots, we tend to take photos of times that we want to remember and revisit.

In contrast, I’ve noticed that I’ll avoid the photos on my phone from my extended stay in the hospital. These were important to me at the time as a way of sharing with folks what I was going through, but I find that looking at them now pricks my sense of unease.

My friend Gwen and I enjoying an enormous box of Lindt chocolates

It’s not that I’m trying to block out those memories. Some of those memories were genuinely very happy ones. It’s more that I recognize the importance of not swimming in that type of memory if it doesn’t feel good to me.

Making art from photos and memories

Many of my paintings begin as snapshots taken on my phone of everyday moments.

I had initially assumed that I was choosing particular moments to paint based solely on the aesthetics of the image—for instance, the vibrant colours of a sunset or the play of light and shadow on a set of espresso cups.

What I realized recently is that, because my paintings typically take two or three weeks to complete, I’m choosing photos of memories based on how the memory in that photo makes me feel. I know that through the course of working on that painting, I am going to be immersed in that memory and that feeling for hours and hours.

Reference snapshot and “Bench for Two,” acrylic on canvas (2024)

A memory of calm.

A memory of awe.

A memory of joy.

These are the kind of photos that I am most likely to paint because those are the kind of emotions I want to feel while working on the painting.

I do understand the desire of some creatives to express their pain or trauma through their work, either to process the thornier parts of their history or share that part of their story with others.

It may feel creatively necessary, but I would also add a caution to remember exactly what it is that you are swimming in. Immersing yourself in a memory, particularly an intense one that has a great deal of emotion attached to it, can bring up those same emotions while you’re expressing that moment creatively.

“In the ER,” acrylic on canvas (2024)

The act may feel therapeutic, or it might feel damaging—particularly if you are choosing to revisit an old wound over and over again.

I believe the most important piece is to be in choice.

If you notice that the subject matter of your creativity is bringing you down, perhaps try switching it up for a bit as a palette cleanser. (No pun intended.)

• Dig through your playlist and find a song that makes you want to sing and dance along, then throw your whole body into singing and dancing along.

• Create a painting about a time when you felt completely at peace as you drifted in a kayak on a sunlit lake.

• Make a nostalgic collage using wrappers from all your favourite candies from childhood.

What memories will you choose to immerse yourself in today?

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Athena is an artist, writer and creativity coach who believes that anyone can benefit from a healthy creative practice.