Heartspeech
Meditations on a new mini-collection exploring what's within
Where do we begin?
I think my fascination with hearts began in middle school. In those early days, I was intrigued by the biology of the heart and its metaphorical power. Why did this organ hold such prominence in poetry, religion, and diverse human cultures?
In one narrow stream of the Christian tradition, I read authors and heard teaching that (poorly) argued that the heart is a deceptive enemy. I never took the bait. It never made logical, intuitive, or experiential sense to me that the heart isn’t vital and trustworthy. For reasons I couldn’t yet name, the heart was of central importance.
As a heart-centered person (enneagram 4, obvs.), I’ve devoted the last several years attuning to the frequencies of my heart. In my creative and contemplative practices, I am learning to hear a greater dynamic range of heartspeech: what the heart says and how it says it.
There’s the loud clamor of passion, rage, and fear which can be obvious but unacknowledged. Then there’s the subtle scratch of curiosity, desire, and intuition that are worth hearing but are often dismissed. Each region has its own dialect, and its own preferred way of communication.
The trick is to find coherence between all of the heart’s ways of speaking.
Even with all we know about the heart, we mostly carry a mystery in our chests. Biologically, the heart is still yielding scientific knowledge. More than mere muscle, we have started to uncover its complexity within our nervous system—that the heart has a “brain” that communicates interdependently with the brain in our skull. We are learning about its strength as a transmitter of electromagnetic energy. Who knows what else we have yet to find?
But even in ignorance, it is possible to learn what the heart has to say. Whether we listen or not, our hearts will continue to speak and hear in a language we’re still learning.
At every moment of every day, whether we are consciously aware or distracted, the heart speaks. The heart is not deterred when there are no ears to hear. Heartspeech will go on until it transmutes into another vocabulary at the moment of our death.
This mini-collection uses vibrant, warm hues to evoke the grammar of heartspeech. With strong, bold colors of magma, bruise, fire, oxygen-rich blood, and solar flare—the pieces hold space for our dynamic range of feeling and expression.
Through contrast between immediate forms and obscured patterns, each piece holds fields of coherence using a similar gestural vocabulary.
Still Beating
20” x 20”
Acrylic, Pencil, Charcoal, Pastel
Gallery Depth Canvas
The color field and gestural work in this piece call to mind a churning, life-giving energy. Like magma roiling under the crust, or like solar energy churning at the sun’s surface, the heart teems with generative heat. Each heartbeat is a world of energy.
It is within this vibrant world of emotional-nuclear fusion that heartspeech begins to emerge. The heart has its own primordial energy from which discernible patterns and shapes begin to emerge.
There is, of course, the heartbeat with its pattern which is often not a pattern at all. The heartbeat fluctuates in times of stress, activity, age, and ability. Rather than a constant metronome, the heart beats with a cadence that is attuned to the dynamic, energetic world within.
With this painting, I consider: Have I welcomed the full, life-giving range of my heart’s energy? Which parts feel hot and which parts feel cool?
Inquire Within
22” x 30”
Acrylic, Pencil, Charcoal
Archival Arches Paper
When we turn inwards to hear the world within, it can feel like we begin to notice the most basic lines, shapes, and colors. Like a toddler learning to express the world in the most rudimentary ways, we can sense large “spots” in our inner world. We can sense that there are areas of light and shadow, clarity and obscurity. And even if we cannot neatly define those borders, we can begin to orient to an inner topography.
As I sit with this piece, the question that emerges for me is: what tender parts of my heart have I acknowledged but neglected? How could I direct my attention toward the obscure rather than what I’ve already long known?
Weight of the World
22” x 30”
Acrylic, Pencil, Charcoal
Archival Arches Paper
This piece feels most proximate to my current, daily experience. There is a vibrant world within, and the speech is complex.
There are patterns to notice but I must learn to hold and honor the whole. The original fields of color begin to take on depth and particularity. The gestures that were dominant in the first inquiry are still present, but recede as new forms and gestures begin to emerge.
The lived question for this piece is: how do we gently direct our attention to the whole of our experience to hear each part and the harmonies they make?
Fully Charged
22” x 30”
Acrylic, Pencil, Charcoal
Archival Arches Paper
The shape of this piece is most obviously heart-like. It gently curves as abstracted anatomy. But interestingly, there is an essential anatomical feature that exists outside of the structure.
These rectangles on the left, plum and crimson, are vitally connected. They are caught within the yellow “energy field” of the heart shape, fused to their color counterparts within.
Whatever our heart is saying, it is in vital connection to a source outside of us. Though the heart has the force and feeling of an inner nuclear reactor, it also has a tender connection to energy sources outside of itself. The heart, too, must find grounding in the world.
With this piece, I ask: What does it look and feel like for my heart to be safely connected to energy outside of itself? Who are the people, where are the places, and what are the practices that help my heart open wider to the energy it longs to hold?
Being at home with your heart
Friends, may you find new tenderness with your heart today. May you recognize and honor the full passion, force, and fire of what your heart longs to say.
May you be tender with the areas that have been bruised, allowing those parts the time and gentle attention they need to integrate.
May you have the courage to cast your inward gaze over new, under-explored territory.
May you not sink under the weight of what your heart holds, but celebrate the strength you’ve gained to carry part of this world’s pains and joys.
May you remember your frailty and be open to new ways to be grounded—giving and receiving the love your heart was made to hold.