(Pictures were all taken at my wedding by one of my favourite people in the world - Craig Purdon Insta: @craigpurdonphoto )
Today I want to share a little story, about a throw away moment, that hurt me deeply.
For context, the most successful I have ever been as an "online presence" was as a witchcraft blogger. I was never a crazy influencer or anything, but I had a good few thousand instagram followers, a succesful-ish etsy shop that sold tarot readings, and witches "altar kits" - beautiful antique jewellery boxes, filled with special found objects. I loved it! I'm not religious, but I'm deeply spiritual and have been practicing versions of neopaganism and secular witchcraft since before I had the vocabulary to describe that that was what I was doing.
This probably opens up a lot of questions, but this post is not about the specifics of my beliefs or practice. Maybe some other time. But I'm not over exaggerating when I say that I believe witchcraft saved my life. Or rather, in the midst of deep depression; rituals, time in nature, and feelings of connection to the things around me became (and still become) really important. It doesn't have to be "magical" to be useful.
Anyway, on with the story.
I was out for drinks with a good friend, we were decently drunk, and he was telling me about this girl he knew. It was clear to me that he was desperately in love with her, but knew it wasn't returned. He said;
"She's so beautiful. There's an energy about her you know? When you meet her you just know, she's a witch.
Like you know how, you do witchy things, but you're not really a witch, but she just is. You meet her and you know."
I remember smiling and nodding, but I felt like I had just been punched. How many of my other friends saw my work and thought I was just "doing witchy things"? This deeply personal practice, dismissed as a trend or a phase. I was so embarrassed that I'd been openly calling myself a witch, I still feel embarrassed even as I write this. I hated the fact that he knew someone else that he DID believe was a witch - but he thought that I was somehow just pretending.
We never discussed it, or fell out, but we don't talk any more, and I didn't directly make a decision to close my shop and stop blogging, I just kind of, let it fizzle out.
The beautiful thing about witchcraft is that when you start understanding it, you start noticing it everywhere; every meal you cook, every piece of art or music you make, every touch and every kiss is literally magic. But for a long time I stopped "actively" practicing, because every time I felt moved to, I had a little voice in the back of my head,
"You're not really a witch."
I had imposter syndrome in my own spiritual practice.
I eventually got back to it, and nearly two years ago, I got married. We had an amazing celebrant for our wedding who was loosely-pagan. She made a beautiful spiritual ceremony for us, without alienating or spooking any of our attendees. It felt a bit like a confirmation to all my loved ones that, "Yes, I am really quite serious about my spirituality actually.". Though I still wasn't back to using the "W" word.
It pops up in my work. I'm fascinated by the history of witchcraft and folk magic in Scotland, I'm inspired by the natural landscape and wildlife of this beautiful country, and I'm moved by it's heavy and distinctive seasons. I'm also obsessed with the symbols in astrology and tarot, and I can't help but let those inspirations leak into my art. When I am selling at markets, I find myself weighing up my customers, deciding how much to divulge. The girl with the tattoos and the moon earrings might love to know that the piece she is buying was partially inspired by the Strength tarot card, but I probably shouldn't mention it to the man in the plain grey hoodie. I'm so afraid to have my work dismissed for being "woo woo" or jumping on the new age spiritual trend.
Over the past three weeks, I've been trying to sell my art products to local gift shops. It's been a lot of work, with no successes (yet). There's a multitude of reasons for this, and I am learning so much, but towards the end of this week a thought occured to me as I nervously browsed ANOTHER gift store, trying to pluck up the courage to ask to speak to the owner.
My work doesn't fit here.
Glasgow has two main types of local art/gift shop (absolutely no shade here, as I love them both, and spend MANY of my weekends browsing these cute little independent stores, and coming home with little treats for myself). The first is kind of kitsch-y, filled with statement earrings, tote bags or mugs with funny Glaswegian phrases written on them, and paintings that are a mix of Scottish landscapes, or very colourful highland cows. The other is a kind of high end, Scandinavian style homeware store. I know it's not up to me to say whether or not someone else might consider my art for their store - but for the first time, it really hit me that it might be a losing battle.
And THEN I visited my local witchy store. They stock these beautiful hand dipped beeswax candles that I can't get anywhere else. I was happily browsing away, and I realised I could picture my work here. All the projects that clutter up the back of my mind belong in this shop. This is my audience, just like it was years ago when I ran my blog and my little etsy store.
It's time to stop flinging shit at the walls and hoping something sticks. It's time to embrace who I am and what I want to do.
Art is witchcraft, and I've always been a witch.
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