Northern Gannet scanned 600dpi

Scanned at a local FedEx. The quality I am able to see on my screen exceeds the quality I am able to upload here.

Art Therapy

Northern Gannet, July 2025. Ink, graphite, watercolor.

Are those rain drop splashes? Thoughts? Cancer cells? The answer is yes.

I started this illustration in January 2025 as a daily meditative exercise. Focusing on my breath, I primarily used stippling and hatching to complete this piece.

Work in Progress: Northern Gannet

My current work in progress is another contemplative experience, inspired by a poignant encounter with the remains of a northern gannet I found at rest on a beach. As I work, the image provides meditation for me.

At the heart of the drawing lies the gannet's remains—the stark reality of mortality, fragility of existence and the quiet return to the earth.

Beneath and around this image, the sand plays a crucial role. It represents the ceaseless passage of time, the grounding of our physical being, and our fundamental connection to the earth. It's both a final resting place and a constant reminder of the tangible world that cradles us.

Yet, even in this scene of stillness, life persists.

The reflections of the sun on the ocean water— a source of warmth and renewal. The enduring power of nature or life, a stark contrast to the quietude of death.

The reflections of stars on the ocean water—the immense vastness of the universe and the enduring nature of existence that stretches far beyond our individual lives.

And even in a moment that feels still, the cycle of life continues.

An element I have not applied yet is rain…I have the find it, unlock it, as I continue to draw.

As these elements come together, my intention is to create a scene where the finite nature of individual life – represented by the gannet – is juxtaposed with the infinite and cyclical nature of the universe embodied by the sun, stars, ocean, and rain— a moment of quiet contemplation for the viewer—a suggestion that even in the face of existential thoughts, life and death are inextricably intertwined, and that even in decay, there is a form of return, a reintegration into the elements.

Quiet acceptance of the natural order, and perhaps even a sense of peace within that vastness, is what comes for me while making of this art—a journey inward.

The slow build of the image, the deliberate placement of each mark – whether it's the delicate stippling that suggests the texture of sand or the careful hatching that defines a broken feather – becomes a contemplative practice. It’s a form of art therapy, a way to find a measure of stillness while I continue to work through my cancer recurrence and reality.

The focus required by these techniques, the way they demand my presence in the moment, is an act of mindfulness meditation…or at the very least a mindfulness adjacent practice.