Musings – Paula Kuitenbrouwer

Visiting Lebuïnus’s Well (Deventer, Netherlands)

in Dutch: Lebuïnus put

Visiting Lebuïnus Church’s Well in the Netherlands

It is six o’clock. My husband and I leave the comfort of our warm bed for an hour of meditation after which we skip breakfast and head for Central Station on our bare feet. Having done penance and being in a spiritually heightened state before our pilgrimage to the Church of St. Lebuïnus is a good thing. That is, ideally. Nobody needs to know that we sleep till 8, after which we enjoy breakfast, a comfortable 1st class journey, and a coffee -with cake- near the main church of Deventer, a Hanseatic League city at the Dutch river IJssel.

I am eager to visit a well and my husband is perfectly fine with a nice day out for whatever reasons. Recently, I read Katherine May’s Enchantment in which she and a friend visit Black Prince Well in the village of Harbledown (UK). Reading her reflections on visiting a well made me question how many sacred springs and wells I have visited in my life. I can list a few abroad, mainly in the UK like Bath, Winchester, one near Hadrian’s Wall, and few in Italy, Germany and Austria. In the Netherlands, my home country, I have visited Springendal since my early youth. ‘Springendal’ loosely translates as valley of springs, which shows there are a few natural springs.

I like to visit a well again and do it right, although, like Katherine May, I have no idea what right is. Katharine May mentions that ‘You are in fact the one who fills the well’ because we seem to have forgotten the rules of engagement. Should I use the water to draw a small cross on my forehead? Should I sense the well giving me energy? At Geology and History class we learn how springs and wells are formed and how vital these were from prehistoric times till the time of tap water. But spiritually, we seem to have forgotten what to do near a well. Or perhaps not.

The evening before we plan our visit, I Google the well. I can’t find information when and how it came into existence. Is it man made and later Christianized? It looks like it. There are no records of any wonders that happened after drinking its water. Pilgrimages in the 13-14^th century took place to venerate the remains of Saint Lebuïnus, not because of the well.

We arrive at a large church that -far back in time- most likely started as a wooden hut placed near or over a well. This is the church of Lebuïnus, who was an 8th century Anglo-Saxon missionary. Lebuïnus (Lebuin, Lebwin or Liafwin) was an apostle of the Frisians and patron of Deventer but born in England. In between Lebuïnus’s preaching the Gospel in the vicinity of Deventer and dying there in c. 775, there is a lot of building, church burning, fleeing to Germany, and returning to Deventer. If you think erecting a church as a straightforward job, you think wrong.

The colossal church we visit today was completed in 1525. We walk around the church and find it a delight. The sun shines and the sand-coloured stones give it a soft feel. The interior of the church enhances this impression with its friendly pastel palette of off-white, soft peach pink, and Naples’ sand yellow. It is what some would describe as the inside of a human body, that of flesh. We enjoy its wonderful frescoes. They have the same peach-creamy hues which are very appealing. No bright Medieval blue, red, and yellow, but pastel coloured Bible scenes and lots of botanical decorations.

It is time to enter the 11^th century crypt and to see what I came for, the well. We are used to dark and gloomy crypts, but this one is different. Similar to the church, the crypt has whitewashed walls and is full of soft light. Open apertures filter the light from the church windows which give this crypt a luminous feel despite its strong Romanesque pillars.

There is no reference that this is a sacred well, no information. Later, a volunteering church lady tells me that it is connected to the river IJssel, which runs nearby. The well itself is a hole in the ground in the centre of the crypt. An ugly metal grid is placed over the well, it is the kind of grid you use for brushing off mud from your shoes. This cheap modern grill allows you to see the well and to offer coins but it speaks volumes in frugality.

Today there is no water in the well. Looking through the grid is still pretty because of its stone walls and the layer of donated coins. In my imagination, I picture how the well looks like with water covering the coins. On my way out of the church I ask the same church lady if the water has permanently receded. Absolutely not, but since the Dutch allow the river to overflow and take up more room, there is less flooding in the crypt. This, the lady says, is a good thing because with the water also comes muddy residue. The lady goes on saying that the crypt has been a safe house for nuns during times of religious battles, as well as a bunker for those seeking safety during WWII bombardments. Nowhere in her story do I sense a reverence for the water well.

Deventer’s Lebuïnus Church close to the river IJssel

We sit down in the crypt and so does an older man. He closes his eyes and goes into prayer. A few tourists enter but they -respectfully- keep their voices down. There is a prayer book, an altar and two burning candles with the Α and Ω symbols. The crypt is a welcoming place. But that cheap grid leaves an impression that this well is not important. At home, it takes me half an hour to find its name, ‘Lebuïnus put’, meaning Lebuïnus’s well, despite that it most likely dates to the Bronze and Iron Age. Archeological findings confirm Deventer as a very old river side settlement.

Early Christianity had to allow pagan elements, like this well, to bind folks to Christianity. Should the church crack down too hard on pagan traditions, this would estrange those who still held ancestral beliefs. Gradually pagan elements were neglected and ‘deliberately’ forgotten. Perhaps this well will suffer this fate too. That said, it might have been Christianized by Lebuïnus but even that isn’t mentioned in the church.

Winchester Cathedral does it better. It tells the amazing history of its well and its hero. This cathedral lies on a hill and is situated over its well. Diver William Walker (1869–1918) saves Winchester’s church from imminent danger of collapse as it starts to sink slowly into the ground. Walker shores up the walls by putting concrete underneath them. He works six hours a day—in complete darkness, because the sediment suspended in the water was impenetrable to light. He is commemorated with a small statute whilst inside Winchester cathedral many holy men lie in their large and richly elaborate graves. I will never forget this disproportionate honour. Imagine William Walker having been a woman; her statute would be as small as a pinhead. That said, Winchester’s well is part of its historical narrative contrary to Lebuïnus’s well that is missing an information board. For many it will just be a hole in the ground, safely ‘sealed’ with a grid.

William Walker, more at Winchester Cathedral website.

We visit Lebuïnus’s well on a day when it is dry. If healing properties are connected to water, one has a problem. But if beneficial qualities are related to a place, rather than to water, then the absence of water is no problem. The water level in the IJssel River is high. The church lady expects the water to rise in the well during the day. I would have loved to see that because looking at coins feels like looking into an old treasure chest.

That said, the coins tell a story of how we behave near a sacred well. We haven’t collectively forgotten how we interact with holy places. We trust the well with our wishes and because we understand reciprocity, we offer a coin. And why do we offer a coin? We have no idea but offering something metal goes as far back as the Iron Age.

Archeologists believe that during the Iron Age anything metal that had lost its form and gained a new shape by the fires of a blacksmith testifies of having a soul. Perhaps this was because on a chemical level metallurgy wasn’t understood and the processes like welding or metalworking looked magical. Sometimes an Iron Age sword of shield was not even utilized but offered to gods who resided in lakes. These offerings took place in western Europe, and we still do this; we offer coins to wells and fountains.

The Witham Shield is **an Iron Age decorative bronze shield dating from about the 4th century BC**. The shield was discovered in the River Witham, England in 1826. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Witham_Shield

We sit near the well and are invited to trust our prayer to the crypt prayer’s book. We offer a coin, a kind gesture to the well itself, because it isn’t about the money, it is about offering a metallic object that we -far back in time- regarded as having a soul. Our offer is not a lifeless object, no object of monetary value, but a spiritually valuable object. We have learned from our ancestors that there is something beneficial about interacting with sacred springs. It allows and perhaps invites our prayers and welcomes our offerings. More than any other thing, except perhaps for a cave or a tree, we share intimate thoughts and feelings with a well, especially on an emotional or spiritual level. We are in communion with it.

I leave a prayer in the crypt’s prayer book. I do not feel comfortable with sending a wish list up to the saints above for myself but for someone else I am happy to pray. Our financial donation is done via a digital payment system at the exit but not before I look for a postcard. There is no postcard of the crypt or the well. It is a good thing I had knowledge of the well before visiting the church because I might have overlooked it.

Lebuïnius’s well has survived under the immense weight of our shifting religious preferences. However, it now seems overlooked. What we need to do is offering coins and interacting with it. And above all, it should have a less industrial grid. Otherwise, perhaps it might be forgotten as the geological, historical, and perhaps spiritual reason why this massive church was built on the banks of the river IJssel.

It is my wish that next time we will visit Lebuïnus’s well it will be decorated with an exquisite and artistic grid, like that of Glastonbury’s Chalice Well.

Paula Kuitenbrouwer, Drs. M.A.

I invite you to enjoy this website that is full of art, art-musings, reflections, diary entries, literature, art-history, and more. I am Paula Kuitenbrouwer freehand-drawing & commission artist. Art is often seen as a luxury but when it comes to joyful, sad, or memorable events in our lives, we are in need for art. Please, feel free discussing commissioned art with me. I was taught drawing and painting by Spanish-Dutch artist Charito Crahay and Dutch artist Johan Kolman. I have an M.A. in Philosophy and enjoyed a few courses at Oxford Department for Continuing Education. Currently, I live with my husband in the Netherlands. Our daughter studies abroad. My portfolio is at Instagram and my shop at Etsy.

Portraying the Young and the Old

When you compare and contrast taking care of a toddler and geriatric person, you find yourself dealing with brain growth and brain damage. It is simply wonderful, in fact enchanting, to read aloud to your child and see how your child absorbs knowledge, language, and illustrations as a dried-out sponge. This is such a rewarding and pleasant, if not addictive, task, it brings pure joy. That lovely warm body of a relaxed child to hold close to you, seeing these beautiful big eyes staring at illustrations, and these sweet small fingers pointing out what riddles him or her.

Taking care of a geriatric person is completely different. It feels like a Sisyphean task. (What is a Sisyphean Task, click here). There is forgetfulness, decline, less energy, and an increasing need for rest. Eventually, just like taking care of a baby, you end up just sitting close, holding hands and dwelling in the here and now without expectation or ambition.

Roman sculpture: Silenus with Dionysus by Lysippos. Glyptothek Museum Munich Germany

I had an uncle who was full of character. He thought that the old only had a ‘nuisance value’. He was in his late seventies when he talked about this, so we laughed off his notions. The first time he made my husband and me aware of his old age ‘nuisance value’ ethics was when he had to stop his car (in which we sat) and wait a long time for a very old person, bending like a crooked tree branch, to cross a street. All the while step… wait… step… wait. .…my uncle shared his philosophy on nonexistent values of old age. He knew that old men often become aggressive and very old women often grow depressed. To him there was no way out of this Sisyphean predicament other than dying on time, which he did.

Whether you agree or disagree with the nuisance value philosophy, we need to nourish one’s soul, keep the brain going (or prevent further declining), and see that sharing every ounce of love is worth the effort.

Guido Reni’s St. Joseph with infant Jesus; the beauty of young and old united. For more on this painting click here.

The difference between taking care of a toddler and an old person is that with a toddler you are gearing all education towards gaining independence in the future. Whereas with an old person, you accept the loss of independence and find comfort in sharing memories about the past. One embraces the inevitable and inescapable short timeline we all have. Whilst it is so incredibly fulfilling to witness the growth of a child and its growing cognitive capacities, it takes courage to come to terms with loss, with a brain that is shutting down operations. That said, is it therefore not wondrous that in an old person, childhood memories are so manifest? The first memories that were written in stone (in the brain) are those who will disappear last. I find incredible comfort in this because it shows that a healthy and happy childhood keeps its value for a lifetime. That said, it is also an urgent reminder how we need to take excellent care of every single child’s early life. (‘It is easier to raise a happy child than to fix a broken man’)

As an artist, I like to add that painters overall seem to be more inspired by old age than by young life. A baby is a tabula rasa, a clean slate, nothing written on it yet. It is lovely, beautiful and adorable, yet it has no depth. A baby is like an angel, pure, and alluding to heavenly innocence.

Take the old, they have lived. Lived! Life has thrown 101 blessings and troubles to them. They have dealt with war, conflict, illnesses, labour and misfortune. Oldies have weathered heavy storms. How did they do that and what resilience shows in their countenances? They have turned into wise sages or mean, ugly elves with too large ears. It is an inspiring challenge paint an old man or woman; trying to capture the many layered life experiences that a human being has endured, the blessings and damage they are responsible for, the rewards and punishments.

The same counts for painting a sea or body of water. A calm sea only mirrors the heavens (like babies do), whilst a stormy sea is great fun for an artist; one hardly can’t go wrong with the wildness and chaos of high waves and lots of foam (just like the wrinkles in an old person’s face).

Christian Seybold (1695 – 1768) Portrait of an older woman.
Gemäldegalerie Alte Meister, Dresden, Germany

Make sure you have lived…because life has been given to you and staying a young is no option. Keep your brain active, keep your enthusiasm going. Accept high waves. Make sure that when you get your portrait done to give a painter enough wrinkles. Makes sure you give a biographer enough soul.

Paula Kuitenbrouwer

Dutch artist at Etsy & Inst a gram & Linktree

Artists Stay Well Balanced

“How are things going creatively?”

“Very well, thank you”

“And how about your creative energy?”

“Actually…really well, surprisingly”.

THE PANDEMIC AND ARTISTS

I have discussed the effects of the pandemic with many of my artist friends. I was wondering whether they loathed or embraced various lockdowns? I found out that long weeks or months at home brought them deep focus and a relief from the continuous time crunches they often experience combining art-making and family life.

However, I observed more. A pandemic causes many people to lose their equilibrium. Anxiety sets in and various lockdowns cause mass stir craziness and cabin-fever. People have become so aggressive! The Netherlands saw a huge increase of domestic or family violence towards women and children. There is such road rage on highways too. It is like people have become mad.

To the other end of the spectrum of mental health, people have also grown depressed. There is a radicalization of feelings due to a lack of social contact. It is not good for people to feel trapped because that easily leads to restlessness, anxiety or being agitated. Not that we should all pollute the air with kerosene again, but being cooked up at home is a hardship for most of us.

WELL BALANCED

But interestingly artists, avid readers, and musicians seem to suffer less problems (disclaimer, so it seems in my social circles) because they do a lot of mind traveling. They transport themselves to artistic, literary or musical realms and go on about their days making music, painting canvases, and reading books. In fact, for many artist friends the numerous lockdowns have been productive and inspirational, (though less profitable because of closed concert halls, galleries and shops).

ARISTOTLE’S GOLDEN MEAN

How can we explain this? Let us turn to Aristotle’s Golden Mean. The golden mean, or golden middle way is the desirable middle between two extremes. If aggression is an excess of energy, depression is a deficiency of energy. Let us go back to those who lost their equilibrium and became aggressive. Aggression is a deficiency of despondency; there is too much stirring up bad energies. It is extreme to be aggressive. It shows an excess of boiled up energy. Depression is a shortage of aggression, of combativeness; it is a lack of energy. It is extreme too. One should neither be aggressive nor depressed. One should have healthy, harmonious energy. So, if aggression and depression are two extremes, what or which is the golden mean state of being? What is the middle between aggression and depression? That is initiative, or resourcefulness, or name it creativity.

^{_{Take a difficult meeting in which compromises must be made. Those with too much aggressive energy walk out. Those who give up, look hollow-eyed. But those who have healthy energy show creativity, offering creative ways out of a deadlock.}}

#Artheals #Nevernotmaking

This creativity, imagination, this resourcefulness and initiative, did we just describe Aristotle’s’ golden mean or did we focus on personal characteristics of artists by naming inventiveness, creativity, resourcefulness and imagination? We did both. I think that the personal traits of an artist keep an artist well balanced and resilient during lockdown. Artists will resort to their habits of creating, taking initiative, keeping their creative juices flowing. #nevernotmaking is a trending hashtag on Instagram. So is #artheals. I see it with all my creative friends: they fare well through lockdowns. Of course, there are boring days, but depression? No. Aggression? No. Creativity? Yes, plenty of it.

Open museums and concert halls

Now that is established how important art making and art is, why not open up our (Dutch) cultural sector? Why are shops now open but museums and podiums closed? Apparently, it is because our government aims to keep us local (not spreading the virus). People are discouraged to travel beyond their region to visit museums or concerts. But in the light of this hyper contagious Omicron, this is a lost fight. Omicron will come as a tsunami and nobody will be spared. Open up our creative and cultural sector because it is hugely important to collectively feel well balanced. Art should not be an afterthought; it lies at the heart of our well being.

“So how are you keeping?”

“Very well, really“

“How come?”

“Because I have more time for drawing!”

I hope artists inspire others becoming creative too. Prevent depression and aggression by engaging in artistic, musical, and literary activities.

Love,

Paula

Paula at Etsy

Paula at Instagram

Paula at Linktree

Postal Stamp design by Paula Kuitenbrouwer
Postal Stamp design by Paula Kuitenbrouwer

Living Dying Battling

Ever since the pandemic I have been reading and reading. Of course, when there is plenty of natural light, I prioritize drawing. But since consecutive lockdowns came into effect and meeting friends, running errands, and going for a walk were pushed to the background, literature reclaimed its rightful place. I kept a list of books in my diary and every time I finished a book, I proudly ticked off a book title. I like to share the moment with you that within the time-span of two days I came across a book title and a harrowing painting. Let me first give you the book title. It stopped me dead in my tracks.

‘Generaals Sterven in Bed’, a Dutch book on WWII. Generals die lying in beds.

Generals die lying on beds

I thought the title was brilliant (disclaimer: I did not read the book). It rang so true to me. I have seen it again and again, those who have struggled in life have died an untimely, painful or medicine induced death whilst those who have ruled, manipulated, or were in charge, Machiavellians, lived a long, happy life and died a peaceful, luxuriously death neatly tugged between crisp white bed linen. But foot-soldiers die on battlefields, in the dirt, at a too young age. ‘Comes with the job, an occasional ‘habit’, collateral damage, kind of thing‘. But generals die at a high age on luxurious beds.

Dead Soldier, unknown (Italian) painter. Notice the skull and bones that symbolize death in case you overlooked the bloodless colour of the soldier’s face.

Next, the painting of a dead soldier. It made me wonder whether it is a detail of a larger painting because of its unusual angle that is a bit uncomfortable for a viewer. But perhaps, this uncomfortable perspective was something the painter precisely sought? I imagine the soldier has most likely fought for someone else’s cause, principles, or power games and now dies an anonymous, early death. Maybe he ends up in a mass grave, unlike the general.

The book title and the painting made me wonder what battles we fight and for who? Who are foot soldiers and who are generals? Do you know them in your life, amongst your friends, at your work? Who is dying for who? I thought of Machiavelli’s philosophy. But also of a very old flyer of a political party that I vaguely remembered. It showed a sweet, little girl, standing all alone in a desert whilst you are asked the question: What if there is a war and nobody is willing to participate? Nobody shows up on the battlefield?

Art and literature make us evaluate the roles we take up in life. Art and literature offer us endless inspiration to ask questions in our lives that need to be asked.

Paula Kuitenbrouwer

Next blogpost will focus on Aristotle’s Golden Mean in relation to lockdown/quarantine and living the artist life.

Paula holds an MA degree in Philosophy and she is the owner of mindfuldrawing.com. Her pen and pencils are always fighting for her attention nevertheless they are best friends; Paula likes her art to be brainy and her essays to be artistic.

Paula’s shop is at Etsy

Paula’s art portfolio is at Instagram

But above all, @ her workstation drawing, drawing and drawing.

Creation Creating Itself

Waiting in a White Washed Hall

Ever since corona and ordering from home, delivery services shouldn’t be bothered with taking the elevator to deliver at our door. I kindly offer to put boxes in our elevator and I will call the elevator up to our floor. By now, this ritual has become a routine. But now the spiritual ‘beginners’ mind’ is added to the story.

There I stand waiting for the delivery man to put boxes inside the elevator and waiting for our ever so slow elevator to reach our floor. Out of boredom I try to study the white washed walls of our apartment gallery. There is no smudge to cling to. There is no pot with flowers to empathically worry about. There is no insect trapped in our gallery that I can heroically set free. There is nothing, absolutely nothing. Because I am in a creative mood I feel a need to add wall art to these utterly dead walls. Why? Why should I want that? Why is there a need to add wall art? This need is so deep, so prehistoric, that painting walls wasn’t it human’s first expression or art. Why?

As I stand waiting, I remember a mystical remark by a Sufi master. He explained that all we see and experience is Creation creating itself to see itself, to engage with itself, to see itself being reflected back at itself. When I heard this story on creation, I felt puzzled yet fascinated. I needed some time to see Creation as a force that enjoys creating a version of itself (not really outside itself and not even separate from itself but a bit away from itself) to be able to engage with itself, to see itself as a reflection of ourselves in a mirror. The more I think about it, the more I understand God creating the world in seven days; not God’s miraculous and exhausting timeline of creation but his will to create, or his need to create to interact with his creation. After all, what is God without people believing in God?

Back to me standing bored in our apartment gallery. I felt the need to create; an overwhelming need. These dead walls are painful. I imagine to be imprisoned in a white washed cell without crayons and I know that I would grow demented in record time or I would die due to having nothing to interact with.

The Sufi’s cosmogonic myth makes sense to me; creation needs to create. Without this creative force creating itself in order to interact with itself through thousands different manifestations all would deteriorate, seeps or drain away. We need art; we need music. We need to make art and music. Go and paint the umpteenth version of Monet’s lily pond; the umpteenth print of a sunflower. Creating is a good thing.

Paula Kuitenbrouwer

Paula’s shop at Etsy

Paula’s art portfolio at Instagram

Inspired by a museum visit

In the Asian department of Leiden’s Museum of Ethnology you find this decorated ceramic plate. It shows floral and geometrical patterns, as well as a garden and landscape. Blue and orange – complementary colours, are predominately used. There are four quarters and more areas filled with sceneries that stand on their own. Perhaps more artists worked on this ceramic plate because the decoration seems to show different styles. The blue chrysanthemums are close-up; the mountainous landscape adds depth. Studying the different elements and patterns one feels enchanted a long time.

ART AND CULTURE LOVING MUSEUM VISIT

There is always something in a museum that inspires. At least, that counts for me. Whether I visit an exhibition on shamans, a scientific department with preserved animals, an insectarium, planetarium, or aquarium, fine arts, or an anthropological exhibition, something will speak to me.

The interesting thing is that you have no idea beforehand which object, story or atmosphere, or even a part of a building, will grab your attention and fill you with inspiration. All you have to do is visit a museum and open up. Inspiration might be overwhelming when you stand in front of the eminently displayed Nike of Samothrace in Paris Louvre. Equally so, it can be kindled by an object as small as the Alfred Jewel in the Ashmolean, Oxford. Sometimes inspiration is not presented through the storyline or ancient objects of an exhibition. It might be the museum building itself that emerges you in an Art Deco atmosphere and consequently inspires you.

HOW TO VISIT A MUSEUM FOR INSPIRATION?

There is something essential you have to do, or perhaps, do not. You should not refrain yourself from feeling happy to visit a museum instead, you should feel grateful for being able to enjoy a carefully curated exhibition. Yes, gratitude and excitement are perfect emotions that do not interfere with inspiration. But what does interfere with inspiration are pre-existing ideas of what you are going to gain from visiting a museum, a gallery or exhibition. Leave all expectations at home. Step into the Medieval mindset that inspiration comes from God or is whispered in your ears by angels. Museums often are quiet, mindful places that make a visitor susceptible to ‘hearing’ angels’ whispers or to feel touched by an object or the perfect execution of fine art skills by one of a well experienced or highly trained artisan or artist.

Even when you have visited many floors, enjoyed a lunch in the museum café, or sauntered through the museum shop, you might not have an idea what inspired you. The whispers might be very subtle and not easily detectable amidst the excitement to be confronted with art, excellence, or originality. But just before you are about to put on your coat ask yourself; ‘What spoke to me?’ or ‘Where in the museum should I have lingered longer?’

INSPIRATION STRUCK

There…there you sensed inspiration. Something interesting or beautiful ‘spoke’ to you. It whispers in your mind; ‘Will you stay with me a bit longer next time?’

Inspiration is a beautiful thing. To me it isn’t a thought or a feeling. It is a whisper that can become rather loud once it has sunken into your soul. It has a timeless quality; some whispers stay for weeks, others ignite your artistic fires for years. See here how art inspires to art (making). How art lives on weeks, decades, years after those who practise highly developed artistic skills left behind their artwork. Art seems to be born from this never-ending stream of inspiration, enhanced and carried by those willing to learn skills and deep focus.

Paula Kuitenbrouwer

This Asian ceramic plate in Leiden’s Museum of Ethnology grabbed my attention and with much joy and interested it inspired me to draw two large mandarin duck compositions. Perhaps you can find the elements that inspired me in my mandarin duck paintings? (Click to enlarge the pictures)

Paula Kuitenbrouwer

at Etsy

at Instagram

The Sorcerer of Trois Frères, Ariège France

Let me introduce The Sorcerer discovered in 1960 in Ariège, France. He has been regarded as a mythical figure, a shaman, leading a ritual dance. The fact that he directly looks at us as if he is interrupted, is remarkable. Why is he doing that? My method of getting to know him better is through drawing him and paying attention to what I observe during the process of drawing. This I combine with research. I will never be able to see the Sorcerer, thus I fully depend on reference photos and interpretations by the man who set out to show the world all cave painting by sketching, Henri Breuil.

The Sorcerer in Trois Frères, Ariège, France

By looking at these two images, a controversy becomes immediately manifest; is Henri Breuil’s drawing a reliable copy or is it his interpretation? This has been hotly debated but I won’t go into this. I trust Jean Clottes who has asserted Breuil’s drawing after having seen the original perhaps over 20 times over many years.

Breuil’s drawing is however problematic, even if it is a truthful copy of the original rock art drawing. I start to draw the Sorcerer, scaling it up in size, working on his head. It is said that the sorcerer isn’t a shaman, he isn’t a human; he is a composite figure bringing together many drawings of Ariège cave. Here we see, the antlers of a stag, the ears of a wolf, the face of a deer, the eyes of an owl, the beard of a bison, the claws of a bear, the pose and the tail of a rearing horse, and the (hind) legs and genitalia of a man.

Drawing Sorcerer’s deer face, I run into trouble with the position of his eyes and ears. The position of the neck in relation to the head and ears is flawed. Equally flawed is the neck of the body in relation to the en-profile position of the face. A face that looks at us over one shoulder would show only one ear, the other would be obscured, visually missing, which is not the case with the Sorcerer. The antlers seem to be incorrectly positioned as well; in case a (horse or human) body is rearing to the front and the head is turned, looking to the viewer full face, then the front antler would seem bigger and the antler more positioned to the back would look a tiny bit smaller, as is not the case with Breuil’s drawing. In fact, the back antler looks bigger! This leads to the conclusion that the head is distorted. Either the painter had this in mind or as cave art is palimpsest art, meaning that painting are re-used, altered and traces of early paintings are often visible in later versions, the compositional flaws could be caused by more than one artists working at this piece of rock art over a long period of time.

The Sorcerer by Paula Kuitenbrouwer. The cave wall is suggested by using Conté. The drawing is done with graphite and charcoal.

The second feeling of unease that I experience whilst drawing the Sorcerer is related to the difference in style and skill regarding the head and the body. The body of the Sorcerer is very well done, technically and anatomically. We see a well proportioned horse body with a wagging tail and strong human legs. But what about the head? The bison beard has no movement; the antlers seem to be done by somebody lacking drawing skills. Thus I wonder what this composite head would look like (drawn by me in this case, but I invite you to do the same). Whilst drawing all the animal attributes, I observe that this composite figure has portrayed very well chosen and formidable animal qualities. Is this portrait then an obituary to a beloved and charismatic shaman? ‘He had formidable eyesight like the eyes of an owl’. It is almost as if we hear somebody remembering him during his funeral. ‘He wore antlers of a stag and could hear with the ears of a wolf’. ‘He had such a kind face, like that of a deer’. ‘He had a well groomed beard as one of a bison’. ‘He could run like a horse, but despite his superior qualities, he was just a man’ (hence the human genitalia).

The Sorcerer shape-shifts in many animals, most of them mammals. With the superior eyes of an owl, he perhaps isn’t looking at us, but trying to find his way back, through the dark, to his human body and to his community who has gathered deep inside Ariège cave. A community that thought highly of him and went through huge efforts to make an intriguing portrait of him.

Paula Kuitenbrouwer

Paula Kuitenbrouwer holds an MA degree in Philosophy (UvA) and is the owner of mindfuldrawing.com. Her pen and pencils are always fighting for her attention nevertheless they are best friends; Paula likes her art to be brainy and her essays to be artistic.

Paula’s Etsy shop & her art portfolio @mindfuldrawing on Instagram

Prehistoric Women Figurines

To deepen my understanding of female prehistoric figurines, I have set out to draw a few of them.

Clockwise starting with the middle-lower sitting woman, you find Courbet Venus, carved in a seated position, about 14.900 years old. Followed by the Venus of Polichinelle, carved in green steatite, 27.000 years old, found at Grimaldi. The strictly stylised engraved Lalinde Venus (there are more than one) found in Gönnersdorf in Germany, in Abri Murat and Gare de Couze in France, Pekárna in the Czech Republic, and Wilczyce in Poland. Stone Age. Further clockwise; Venus figures from Wilczyce, followed by another Gönnersdorf figurine. Then, Petersfels Venus that is made of jet, circa 15. 000 BP- 2.000 BP. Another Gönnersdorf engraving and last, Venus from Nebra, 15.000 years old, animal bone.

It makes you wonder, doesn’t it? You can’t possible blame prehistoric peoples for a lack of body diversity. But why the concentration on bellies and buttons, and why are heads and feet missing? Most look either emaciated, nursing or pregnant. Are some suffering from chronic diseases? Did it matter how a female looked like, or was the first piece of bone or stone vaguely resembling and therefore symbolizing a (perhaps departed) woman okay for whatever ritual? Some look crudely abstract, others are enchantingly elegant, as if they are the first sketched outlines of ballerinas in action.

I have chosen an ochre background as this pigment was hugely important to prehistoric peoples.

Paula Kuitenbrouwer

at Etsy

At @mindfuldrawing on Instagram

Commissions welcome: contact me at mindfuldrawing@gmailc.om

Cernunnos Inspired Stag in Ancient Worlds

The oldest (Celtic) god is Cernunnos, depicted with the antlers of a stag, seated cross-legged, associated with animals, and holding or wearing a torc (is a large rigid or stiff neck ring in metal, made either as a single piece or from strands twisted together).

Not much is known about Cernunnos but interpretations identify him as a beneficent god of nature, life, or fertility. I find it interesting that Cernunnos is half man, half stag. We clearly like to relate ourselves to such a magnificent animal. It looks well built yet elegant, noble and humble, strong but vulnerable.

I remember driving on Island of Mull and being redirected due to roadworks. As we continued our journey on small roads, all the sudden a huge stag stood in front of us. My husband stopped the car and for a moment we looked in awe at this mighty animal. It looked at us and we looked at him with instant respect, so close and intense was the encounter, that we can still recall the moment, decades later. It will linger in our memory probably forever.

Stag Drawing copyright Paula Kuitenbrouwer

Stag Drawing Antlers shapshifting into birds that fly to the moon. Copyright Paula Kuitenbrouwer

It is therefore that I have drawn stags and deer often. The challenge is always to capture the strength and elegance. Recently, I drew a full stag but I was disappointed because it didn’t stand out. It did not have the mightiness that I was looking for. I then applied the ‘Celtic’ method of looking which lines and shadows were essential and which I should leave out. Say 90% of my initial lines were erased and as a result I not only ended up with a more powerful stag, the space that became available allowed me to work on applying beautiful lines and figures (see how the eyes of the stag are also birds). Thus, the stag is composed of many seemingly loose elements, connecting and giving it form..

Ancient Stones — Ancient Stone Graves Copyright Paula Kuitenbrouwer

I placed it in an ancient Upperworld, Middle world, and Underworld. The Upperworld shows the sun and the moon and the antlers of the stag shapeshift into birds that fly away, symbolizing a shamanistic journey to the Upperworld. The Middle world is shown as tree branches and tree trunks. The Underworld can be entered by visiting an ancient burial site, or being close to dolmens, as is the belief of ancient peoples. I knitted all worlds together by using patterned borders.

Should you like art cards of Cernunnos, contact me freely.

Paula Kuitenbrouwer

At Etsy

Artist Info: I used Derwent Graphite H7 and H3 only, on Winsor & Newton cold press paper. Using only Derwent H pencils gives a drawing very soft tones. Personally, I favour this, but others might judge that it needs more enforcement of darker areas. A few small prints of my drawing show a more enhanced or ‘harder’ version. There are many ‘Celtic’ pattern vectors freely available but I decided to design my own irregular patterns.

Artist at mindfuldrawing.com

At Instagram & Etsy

Ma, a Japanese aesthetic principle, in my three bird drawings

I’d like to show three paintings in which I have incorporated Ma, a Japanese aesthetic principle. Ma is described as ‘an interval in time and/or space’, thus referring to empty spaces, vagueness or abstraction. Empty spaces, in which nothing seems to happen, are full of possibilities. How do my three birds deal with Ma in their portraits?

Ekster by Paula Kuitenbrouwer

For my portrait of Magpie, Korea’s national bird, I added orange colour to compensate for a magpie’s black and white plumage. To stay close to her Korean habitat, I decided to position Magpie on a colourful and fruit-bearing persimmon branch, heavily laden with pumpkin-shaped kaki. Magpie is content with her portrait, and so am I.

Crow Kraai by Paula Kuitenbrouwer

Setting up a composition for a portrait of Carrion Crow was a little harder. Negotiations with this proud and cheeky bird were tough. I talked him into sitting on a mountain ash branch, but initially he didn’t agree with my decision of pushing him a little to the back.

‘You are an indigo blue-ivory black bird’, I explained by pointing out that humans don’t like black things. I explained that I could trick humans in loving his plumage by adding the rich palette of colours of an autumn Mountain Ash.

‘This branch has fresh green, bright orange and deep red, and will charm viewers in loving your monotonous black feathers. And if I use a diagonal composition, I can guide the viewer along the branch, climbing up from deep red, through the bright orange to sap green. After such a colourful journey, people don’t mind a bit of solid black. But to do that, I told Carrion Crow, I have to push you a little to one side, but that is okay. Reluctantly, Carrion Crow agreed.

Sparrowhawk by Paula Kuitenbrouwer

My sparrow-hawk demanded to sit high and mighty on the top branch of a proud pine tree. The world of humans doesn’t interest him. He soars above it, looking down on our wars over oil, mass migration and our overheated, overpopulated world.

Sparrow-hawk knows he has this intricately textured and awesome coat of feathers, which makes fashion designers drool. Not much is needed next to such an eye-catching bird; two almost evenly-coloured pine cones complete the portrait. Sparrowhawk sat down just long enough for me to make a portrait, and, without so much as a ‘thank-you’, flew off to his own world, soaring high above ours.

Back to Ma.. In all three bird portraits you’ll notice considerable emptiness. My birds seem to look into this emptiness. What do they see? A suitable partner? Prey? Are they guarding their hidden nests? Are they exploring new horizons?

Ma is for you to fill in with your imagination, with your story-telling, your ornithological knowledge or poetry. But Ma can also be left open. We don’t need to fill in empty spaces with projections, trauma, words or sounds. Ma offers a thinking pause or escape from our train of thoughts.

Magpie, Carrion Crow and Sparrow-hawk understand Ma naturally. We are enchanted when we see a bird resting on a tree branch and we long to be like them: resting in Ma, accepting the here and now.

Paula Kuitenbrouwer

@mindfuldrawing on Instagram

At Etsy.

Commissions for other themed Ma drawings are open.

Commissions your Kumamoto inspired Hanging Scroll with your family (symbolized by flowers, patterns and animals).

I invite you to have a look at my portfolio on Etsy and Instagram. You might like to watch the videos of me drawing in Etsy and Instagram too.

Herculus in Utrecht City Centre, drawing by Paula Kuitenbrouwer, Statute by Ton Mooij.

Boogpoort Utrecht/ Historical Gate Utrecht by Paula Kuitenbrouwer

Working on Desborough Iron Age Celtic Mirror; adding a golden border.

Desborough Iron age Mirror, framed. Paula Kuitenbrouwer

Mandarin Ducks with Lotus, watercolour Paula Kuitenbrouwer

Bruntenhof Gate drawing Paula Kuitenbrouwer

Mandarin ducks, classical graphite drawing by Paula Kuitenbrouwer

Crossed Bison Lascaux by Paula Kuitenbrouwer

Harris Hawk by Paula Kuitenbrouwer

William Morris inspired floral drawing Paula Kuitenbrouwer

‘Ode to All Oak Trees’ copyright by Paula Kuitenbrouwer

Paula’s Butterflies Mugs

Postal Stamp design by Paula Kuitenbrouwer

Common Teal by Paula Kuitenbrouwer

Ex Libris Pet Commission by Paula Kuitenbrouwer

Wood ducks or Carolina Ducks Art Cards, by Paula Kuitenbrouwer

King Eider Drawing & Embroidery: copyright Paula Kuitenbrouwer

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The Soul: Painting the Unpaintable

The Soul: Painting the Unpaintable

On an altarpiece owned by the Catharijneconvent Museum in the Netherlands, we see Mary and Gabriel; an Annunciation, of course. But the Annunciation is shown in so many paintings that it requires us to make an extra effort to see how remarkable this painting is.

Let us talk you through it. This is a Flemish altarpiece dating from the late Middle Ages. The painting is about an episode in the Bible, yet it has subtle emotions. If it had been a Renaissance piece, the emotions would be expressed in full; Mary’s body wouldn’t be so poorly executed. The late Medieval characteristic of this painting is that it is richly decorated. It has sumptuous features, such as Gabriel’s clothing, the floor tiles and wallpaper. Mary and Gabriel blend in almost too much, especially Mary with her plain clothing against the heavily decorated background.

Then there is another lovely feature you shouldn’t miss. Gabriel, Mary and the two angels look alike. The most obvious explanation would be that the painter used his or her family as models: his sister or mother as Mary, his brother as Gabriel and his cousins as angels. Another explanation is more theological and much deeper: Mary, the angels and Gabriel were deliberately made to look alike, pale and delicate countenances surrounded by ginger hair, because the painter wanted to stress that Mary, Gabriel and the angels all are very close to God: that they resemble each other, thus also resembling God.

This is a plausible explanation, because the painter has given the theology of the story much thought. Although you might think that this painting was a show of architectonic and texture-drawing skills there is something many will miss while observing this altarpiece.

The painter was philosophical about how to paint God, incarnation or the soul before birth. Have a look at the golden beam of light that descends from the position between the two angels. The fact that the beam comes from above and is positioned between the angels, shows it is a holy sign. At the end of the beam we see the white dove, representing the Holy Spirit. The dove looks like an ocean-diving pelican, aiming to catch a big fish. Here we should remember that, for medieval Europe, the pelican, renowned for its love of its young, symbolized Christ himself. Mary is in a blissful meditative stage of prayer, open to the message of Gabriel when the dove of the Holy Spirit descends on her.

Nothing new, you might think, but notice the tiny figure that follows after the white dove has entered Mary’s mind. There is a small figure, a small, naked boy: Jesus, diving into Mary as the Holy Spirit does, which shows that Mary is soon to be pregnant with a holy child. Mary’s highest point, while reading her book, is her head: Jesus entering her head instead of her chest or lap shows that Jesus comes from ‘above’. With Joseph nowhere to be seen, the painting focuses on the spiritual aspect of a soul descending into a woman.

From this 15^th century religious painting, let’s now move on to The Burial of Count Orgaz by El Greco, painted in 1568.

The painting shows the miracle that is said to have happened during the burial of Count Orgaz: two saints descend from heaven to place the body of Count Orgaz in his tomb. While the painting shows Saint Stephen and Saint Augustine in full glory, tenderly putting Count Orgaz in his resting place in the lower part of the painting, halfway across the canvas an angel carries the soul of the count to Christ, who is positioned high up in the painting, gesturing by his open arms a welcoming sign. Between the earthy world in which Count Orgaz is laid to rest, and the heavenly world, hangs a whitish translucent veil. Its folds show there are angels hiding in it and, due to its uneven distribution, it creates numerous spaces or ‘heavens’. Dante wrote about many hells; this painting hints at many heavens. Between Mary and St. John the Baptist is a very narrow opening to which the angel with curly hair carefully pushes the soul of Count Orgaz.

El Greco makes this soul-carrying angel a midwife in reverse, holding the soul of Count Orgaz with its vague, baby-like features, while it makes its ascent through the opening. Mary, in heaven, has one hand ready to support Count Orgaz’s soul, while St. John de Baptist is already communicating the arrival to Jesus.

We now have seen two paintings in which the soul is shown as a child’s physique. Why have the painters done that? Aren’t there full-grown, adult souls? The arriving soul and the departing soul are shown as a young child because a child is a symbol of innocence because it is without (sinful and full-grown) flesh, without actions it has performed as a responsible adult. When we see a beautiful baby or young child, we say; ‘what an angel’ and we may say that again of a shrunken, wise and kind grandparent. Obviously, to be an earthly angel one has to be either a new arrival from heaven or an almost-departing soul. One has to have that ethereal quality, with little flesh on the bone and an excess of lovingness and delicacy.

The soul in modern paintings is often the spiritual doppelganger of a person. The soul has the same size and form as the person from whom it departs. Paintings of outside body experiences show a shadowy twin figure hovering over a sleeping person. There is nothing exciting about this way of depicting of a soul. These modern souls are cheap replicas. They hold no philosophy, no symbolism or imagination. How different is the Flemish altarpiece of the Annunciation, or El Greco with a burial and an ascent to heaven in one painting, showing not only a dense social scene with many of Toledo’s notables, but also this curious soul, demonstrating theology, philosophy and creative imagination.

To paint a soul challenges a painter to think about what a soul is. It is the psyche of the Greek philosophers: pure consciousness? How would you paint pure consciousness? Is it the thymos, a person’s vitality, spirit or energy? How to express vitality with the help of paint and a brush? It certainly isn’t a person’s eidolon, the empty shadow that goes down to Hades, bereft of all vitality and awareness. The eidolon is the soul minus what makes us human. And what we see in these two paintings – the soul about to enter into life in the Flemish altarpiece and the departing soul of El Greco – are clearly human souls. In fact, what we see is something extraordinary: at attempt to paint the unpaintable.

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Gerwyn Moseley & Paula Kuitenbrouwer

Paula Kuitenbrouwer lives with her husband and daughter in the Netherlands. Her art teachers were Charito Crahay, a Spanish-Dutch artist, and the Dutch artist Johan Kolman. Paula holds an MA degree in Philosophy (University of Utrecht & Amsterdam) and is owner of mindfuldrawing.com. Her pen and pencils are always fighting for her attention nevertheless they are best friends; she likes her art to be brainy and her essays to be artistic.

Paula at Etsy

At Instagram

Visiting Lebuïnus’s Well (Deventer, Netherlands)

by Paula Kuitenbrouwer May 17, 2023

Order your Mandarin Duck Art Card (frame-able)

by Paula Kuitenbrouwer May 8, 2023

Why Should you Write a Spiritual Resume (Curriculum Vitae)?

by Paula Kuitenbrouwer May 7, 2023

Guido Reni (Bologna 1575-1642) St Joseph with the Infant Jesus

Guido Reni (Bologna 1575-1642) St Joseph with the Infant Jesus

Guido Reni lived from 1575 to 1642 and painted mostly in Rome. He ran a busy studio engaged on commissions from many Italian cities. Born in Bologna into a family of musicians, Reni was, as a child of nine, apprenticed under the Bolognese studio of Denis Calvaert.

I especially like St. Joseph with the Infant Jesus, painted in oil on canvas by this Bolognese painter. There is something captivating about this old father who holds baby Jesus. He is a handsome old man and he seems wise, but also vulnerable. To my opinion, Guido Reni has painted an older father who is well aware of the future of his baby. It is as if Joseph holds his treasure not only tenderly, but also in very high esteem.

Now look at baby Jesus. This isn’t a normal baby. It almost sits on Joseph’s hands and shows a remarkable awareness. As much as it is a baby, it is the spiritual master of Joseph already. Guido Reni also has given baby Jesus a lightness; not only by casting a bundle of light on the head and body of baby Jesus, but also by given this baby a beautiful glow. Reni’s baby Jesus shows in another way its ‘light’ too, by suggesting it is light-weighted. Joseph holds his baby as if baby Jesus weighs as much as a feather. This all adds to the impression Guido Reni aims for showing how remarkable baby Jesus was already as a baby.

I like to draw attention to the flower baby Jesus is holding. Most likely it is a lily. A lily symbolizes purity and integrity. In many paintings the Virgin Mary and other saints are portrayed with a lily. Baby Jesus holds the lily close to the heart of St. Joseph, or you could say, St. Joseph holds baby Jesus, who holds the lily. This important baby is safe in the hands of his father. We can trust Joseph to keep baby Jesus safe from being harmed as a child. Maybe Guido Reni gives baby Jesus to hold the lily close to Joseph as if to say thank-you for taking care.

In the back of this painting (I think) I see Maria being visited by an angel. This could be an annunciation to the blessed virgin Mary scene.

I could go on and on showing you how beautiful Joseph’s cloak is done. Or the technical skills of creating grey hair through darkening the background around the head of Joseph with a thick green forest scene. However, I stop and return to my drawing to finish my small interpretation of this painting. Enjoy my work-in-progress.

Paula Kuitenbrouwer

Paula Kuitenbrouwer’s artwork is at

Etsy & Instagram (also videos of Paula at work).

Commissions are welcome.