Featured Artist: Thea Robertshaw
Who are the Muses in our Lives?
Memory ignites my creativity and inspires me to become more of who I am as an artist. Mnemosyne is the mother of the nine mythical Greek muses whose name means memory. In my work as a painter I am inspired by her. Muse comes from the Greek verb muein: to initiate somebody into the mysteries. We listen to music and visit a museum, a place of muses. “The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious. It is the source of all art and science.”- Albert Einstein
I paint my own myth, the mystery that desires to find expression. Whether I paint the nightmare from the war years as a child in Holland or a scene from nature with trees, I always rely on memories and dreams. One night I remember dreaming I am in a cold and barren land of ice. I stand in a misty cloud that obscures my vision. I can’t see. I hear heavy footsteps approaching over the ice. Then, out of the mist a golden figure emerges with outstretched wings. The wings envelop me with warmth and comfort. We seem to merge. We walk across the ice to a distant airplane. There stands a group of children huddled in the cold. Our wings open and we enfold the children, warming and comforting them on their journey. [The Guardian] Memories don’t fade. As I grow older my memories gain in intensity and depth. For years I have had flashbacks of my childhood in Holland during the German occupation in 1940. These memories became one of the driving forces in my painting.
“The Sound” came from a recurring nightmare. I heard the sound of a bomber coming closer and closer, its engines roaring louder and louder. Then I see a lone child. She can’t move or run. The child sees there is no escape. She stands frozen. She covers her ears and screams and screams. I wake up in a fright. How can I paint that sound? How can I paint her gut-wrenching fear? How can I paint the horrors of war into a single painting? Would I be successful? People tell me they can’t pull their eyes away from my finished painting. They’re speechless.
Only recently did I dare paint Margaretha Priester, a memory deeply imbedded in my psyche and sometimes hidden from the light. The fear and sadness I felt at the loss of my piano teacher when I was only 10 years old could never be erased from my memory. Margeretha was among the three Jews our family hid in our house. She was a musical genius who had taught at the Berlin Music Conservatory. One night my mother had a premonition, an ominous dream. My parents tried to find another hiding place for the three Jews with the help of the Dutch Underground. Two places were found for the men, but not for Margaretha. Three weeks later the Gestapo came to our house. They held a gun to my head, forcing me to sit and be quiet. I saw her leaving. The Germans took Margaretha to Auschwitz, to the gas chambers. In my painting of the capture of Margaretha Priester, and next to a fading piano, a black dog appears which later reminded me of the mythical Egyptian god, Anubis, who takes the soul to the other side.I am now at peace with my memory. I think my painting of Margaretha leaves an important legacy of her story. In painting my most tragic personal experience I have recorded the sacrifices and losses that occurred throughout WW II. [Margaretha Priester]
During this time of terror, malnutrition began to show in our weakened bodies. I’m hungry all the time.I’m eight years old and I don’t understand why my mother has taken my dolls and books and lockedthem in a cupboard. I’m not allowed to touch or play with them. I remember being angry and hurt. My mother tries to explain to me why I can’t have my toys and books, but what she says only scares me. One by one I watch my dolls and books disappear to be traded for food. Many years later, as an adult, I painted my memory of the locked cupboard. While I painted I again felt my anguish at the loss of my childish toys. My image is reflected in the glass as I look longingly at my dolls and books. In my memory these precious childhood things become larger than life and take on a surreal quality. What was I attempting to do? I believe, through my painting, I have unraveled the mystery of this memory to heal that time in my life and to touch others with my story. (Mother’s Secret – acrylic painting) I moved to America with my mother to join my sister and her family six years after WWII. I lived in a desert where I learned to see color in a whole new way, reminding me of when Van Gogh went to France. Here my journey in art and music began in earnest. I feel the purpose of myths, memories and dreams is to bring a deeper meaning into our lives. My entire adult life has been focused on this personal journey, through my paintings, into the mysterious. Joseph Campbell writes, “The artist is the myth maker of our times.”-Thea Robertshaw-