Monday, 28 January 2013

The Seer

Whilst I was still pregnant, I had one image come to me very strongly (in between the exhaustion and nausea) which I turned into a drawing.

It was partly inspired by The Dark Mountain Project, a complex initiative that I recommend you read about. Partly it was inspired by a dream I had of Death's Head moths flying about my bedroom.

I never code meaning into my drawing deliberately, because I think, for me, it is more interesting to 'read' them once they are completed. That is a more intriguing process for me as it allows multiple meanings to come forward. I suppose this is what people do when they try to read strange dreams which they may have had. Or even what we do (or, at least, what old English Literature students like me do) when we read hidden, deeper meanings into the narratives of novels. We seek the authors' intended, but concealed, message.

When I first finished this drawing I thought it was about the way we cover our eyes and try not to see bad omens. I was thinking particularly about occurring and encroaching ecological disaster, how we often cannot face the fullness of reality. That maybe even to do so would be to go mad from powerlessness.

Since our loss, the drawing seems to have taken on new meanings.
The belly looks empty, the placement of the Deaths Head moth over her heart (initially I was going to place it lower, on the belly, but thought it might be bad omen so didn't. Ha.) where I now feel this pain, the gesture of covered eyes seem more grief stricken...

I have called the drawing the Seer, for it now seems omen-nous in itself. 


Anticipation does not create ease. We are often told that our fears will not really come to pass. But they can. They do.
I think now that our only real power lies in the way we respond in the face of fear, death and loss.


  1. Hi Nomi,

    I just jumped over from Glow in the Woods. I am so sorry to hear about the loss of your beautiful Lyra. I have also experienced second trimester loss and have recently started blogging about it.

    Your arts works are beautiful and magical, and really seem to speak to this experience of loss (though maybe I am projecting). I am sure Lrya is so amazingly proud to have you as a mum.

    1. Dear Sadie,

      Thank you for reading about my Lyra :) and for your kind, kind words.

      I am so sorry that you have also experienced this...I am going to seek out your blog at once.

      I'm also just going to put a link to Glow in the Woods, in case anyone reading this ever wants an online place to share and be seen:

      I'm glad you like my work too! I think Lyra will be making her presence felt in my work forever to come :)

      love, xxxxx

  2. Hi Nomi,

    I'm so sorry about you and Lyra. Losing her was so recent and the pain is so fresh. Most days, at least once a day, I think about all the families that are losing a baby that day. I most likely did it the day Lyra was born. You are an amazing artist. I wonder if she would have inherited your talent. I will add you and Lyra to people that I think about daily and hold you close to my heart as you learn to live in this new world.


    1. Thank you so much Dana...That's so kind of you. Thank you for holding us all in your thoughts.

      The pain is very hard, and very sad, but it comes from love. And the love is very strong.

      Nomi x