Hear that sound? That’s the sound of an art bomb.
Guerrilla art. Also known as art bombing.
It’s thrilling and magical to plant and send your art into the world without knowing who’ll see it, where it’ll land, or what it’s impact will be.
My first experience with art bombing came courtesy of witchy and extremely craft-y ritual prep with my friend Jenny Wilde (@jennybach on FB & Insta). We’d make themed totem bags, or write intentions on ribbon, or create herb bundles, or….
Jenny was (still is) tapped into creativity’s invitation to just try sh*t — to listen for that inner What If? — and I was lucky enough to sit right next to her.
I learned by copying her hands and listening to her instructions. I learned how to be a maker.
More than that, I also learned what it’s like to be open to divine whispers, creative inspiration, and the unexpected. I began to know what it feels like — and what can happen — when you’re inspired by impulse, by inner knowing, wonder, and curiosity.
Something profound and magical happens when you embrace this openness and listening, when you act on the ideas and inspirations that you’re hearing.
Art happens. Because of course.
My work with Jenny — more than ten years ago now — was a potent moment in my journey as an artist. A moment of knowing what it’s like to be moved by the energy of creation, to step into its flow.
After we did our ritual work, or as part of it, we’d art bomb our chosen location. We’d leave behind what we’d made, tied to the branches of a tree, or a rosebush, or a fence. Leave-behinds with no explanation, fully charged with our energy, passion, and love.
Sending your art bomb via USPS
This is so much fun!
Recently, another friend, Nina Lockwood, (@nina.inspired.life on Insta) told me about the collage postcards she likes to make and send out in the world, with no explanation and no return address. Not only that, she puts only a single stamp on them, they’re oversize. These aren’t regulation postcards.
Releasing abstract art into the world via art bomb
The odd size, shape, thickness, and uncertain postage makes it a crapshoot: Will these ever land in the intended recipient’s mailbox? This adds an entirely wacky and wonderful wrinkle, right?. Talk about releasing your love — your art — into the world, like a message in a bottle tossed into the ocean.
Some of these postcards do get through — I received one from Nina a month or two ago.
I made these two, one for each of my guerrilla art bomb mentors. Nina got hers. I’m afraid Jenny’s didn’t make it. Unless it did and I disguised myself too well? (Aha! She let me know she got it after seeing my Instagram post. Thank you USPS! 🙃)
That’s part of what makes this so much fun. Weird size. Rough edges. Just one forever stamp. Thanks to the USPS handlers who pass these along. (I’ve obscured the addresses here because of course.)
What are you making?
Creating with your hands is healing, grounding, calming and exciting all at once — great qualities to embody during this winter’s dark and solitary days.
Lucky for me, I have friends who’ve been teaching me their wreath-making and paper dyeing arts for four years now.
This year’s gathering was much smaller, only a handful of us in the backyard, masked and safely distanced. I got to be with other humans on the day after Thanksgiving, a real gift.
We made dip-dyed tissue paper. (I love wrapping gifts that I make with paper I embellished.) And I made this year’s Solstice wreath, calling and welcoming the return of the light.
Crafty moments like these, making tinctures and topicals, new paintings and collages, upping my chef game, and creating my first e-course are all contributing to more sanity, groundedness, connection, and love in uncertain and socially isolating times.
There’s less stress, anxiety, and being bugged by mishegas — a technical word for craziness, which we’ve got plenty of these days.
Winter 2020’s a perfect time to set to making. What’s your inner kitchen witch itching to get her hands on? What are you creating? Let me know in the comments.
Sending so much love. xoxo