A Shiver Runs Through Me
Full moon reflections on a decade of art making.
Welcome to Multilayered!
This installment is about my recent full moon reflections on ten years of my art practice. It acknowledges that while a brand has emerged, it holds little significance compared to the relationships I've nurtured and the creative process itself. It's about the artist who, guided by the whispers of the Otherworld, is shedding old layers, deepening connections, leaning into her vision, and expanding her community and service.
There are nights when everything pulls at me—tasks, responsibilities, the weight of life's rhythms. But during the last full moon, something shifts.
I slurp my magnesium pouch, turn off the lights, light a candle, and lay down on the couch. The boys are asleep. Silence thick in the air. Normally, I'd be busy cleaning, answering emails, journaling, drawing, and checking off tasks before bed.
But not tonight. Not under this full moon. The kitchen remains messy, crumbs and sand beneath my feet, laundry left in piles, words unwritten. My body knows what it needs, what it craves. I could feel it—this urge to see certain things in my life, to release them.
With autumn upon us, the boundaries between realms soften. In Celtic lore, the Otherworld is a hidden dimension that coexists with our reality. It's more than just a dwelling for our ancestors and spiritual guides; it's a repository of the blueprints for our unique journeys and the possibilities that await our planet.
Autumn feels like an exhale, a season where I feel most at home. Born in October, I've always loved watching the leaves change, layering my clothes, and breathing in the crisp air. Every fall, something calls to my spirit. It's the season where my dreams flourish, and I sense that in the Otherworld, the dream of a healed Earth remains very much alive.
As I lay in the fertile darkness, memories of the last ten years of my art-making practice surfaced, and tears streamed down my face. How did a decade pass so quickly? I recalled my first post on Instagram in 2015—my friend had introduced me to the platform after I began drawing mandalas. It was an attempt to connect with others and explore the potential of making a living through this new, very amateur, and uncertain path.
Did I ever imagine that ten years later, I'd be writing about Instagram instead of crafting poetry like I once did? Did I know that my art and visions would support me meaningfully, drawing people, clients, friendships, and even family into my life—beyond my wildest dreams?
The truth is that we are amid profound revolutions right now. Oppressive systems are crumbling, and the endless cycle of phone scrolling, posting for attention, and chasing validation is an addiction on the brink of collapse. Constantly reloading feeds and emails, snapping photos, and overthinking what to share while trying to stay relevant, all in the name of sales and likes, paradoxically leads to more disconnection.
Motherhood and Palestine have made me more open, honest, fierce, and devoted. There is just no time for playing pretend.
There is only the time to practice a new way of creating.
To create a new way of relating.
I want to write stories, not write on stories. I want to commit to my creative practice, not the grid. I want to have unstructured free time, not worry if my art is worthy of the audience, to caption it with a relatable quote; I don't want to dance all the dances to get noticed, make a sale, or outsmart the algorithm. I'm writing about this again to remind myself of what's important to me, of the addiction that has swallowed most of us. Instagram has shown me what's possible, and I'm so incredibly grateful, but now I am a new person. As this new person, I have new boundaries, standards, practices, and needs. Swimming against the stream is not sustainable, supportive, or satisfying.
I think of the years spent drawing mandalas and meditating in silence. The visions of women with flower heads that emerged during my plant sits, the deep necessity to communicate their messages, and teach myself to draw. The ancestral constellation sessions that led me toward textile work and embroidery—rituals deeply rooted in my lineage. Hundreds of tattoo commissions still astonish me; I'm in awe of women worldwide who connect with these artworks in such personal ways. So much collaboration, visioning, and transformation unfolded for myself and others.
My creative journey is rooted in my devotion to my practice and in how my art cultivates a shared connection with women and earth, drawing us together in a circle of belonging and understanding.
When people comment on the successful brand I've built, a shiver runs through me.
Creating a brand was never my intention; it has emerged organically, like a river carving through the land. The numbers on Instagram may hold significance, serving as a means of connection and financial support, yet I do not equate them with the fullness of my journey. True success lies in the stories I share, the integrity that roots me in the relationships I cultivate, and how those relationships ripple around me.
When apps dictate that I must follow their prescribed paths—a shiver runs through me.
When people insist I can't embrace my multi-passionate nature or change often—a shiver runs through me.
When I'm told how to write, how many words to include, how to fit into a niche, how to be digestible, and how to create content—a shiver courses through me.
Each insistence feels like an attempt to stifle the wild, untamed spirit that flows through my work. Rigid frameworks cannot contain true expression.
If anything, I want to unravel my brand. It's what I did when I reclaimed my birth name, stepped away from my membership, became a mother, and began speaking from my raw truth. When I offer not the polished, digestible version but the real, imperfect moments of confusion, conflict, and contradiction. When I share my sadness, struggles, and all the trials along the way. When I allow myself to be fully human without the need to fit into a neatly packaged format.
Capitalism has imposed its branding upon us, shaping our identities in ways that often leave us feeling fragmented. Yet, we are voices, visions, and lifelines for one another. Our imaginations can be harnessed to create something magnificent, essential, and radical—directed toward liberation and humane innovation, not merely packaging products on conveyor belts for commodification.
In my art practice, over the last year, I've been experimenting with paper cutouts and paintings during the late, quiet hours when the world is asleep. I want my art-making to feel like love-making—intentional and wholly mine, not just created in stolen moments. Now, I realize this is only the beginning of a deeper exploration.
I'm drawn to larger-scale contemporary works and exploring color, knowing that it will help me express my emotional state and complex ideas without figurative or representational art constraints. This is a practice for myself and my eyes, and it's invigorating not to feel the need to share it with anyone. It's a shift from the art I'm 'known' for and how I've seen myself as an artist.
The pull to create, inquire, and be curious is irresistible. Any box the world tries to confine me in will be sliced open, painted over, and reshaped into a piece of art.
This world calls for us. Our bodies yearn for our presence.
While our roles in life may differ, if we attune ourselves to the fertile darkness and numinosity of Otherworld, we can hear the soft sounds of roots growing and intertwining—a gentle rustle as they stretch through the earth, connecting beneath the surface, whispering and weaving us together. Our art serves as a testament to this network, revealing that a new world is not only possible but is already emerging in the hidden depths of our shared existence.
With love,
Vanja
I’ve finally completed the artwork and the design for the 2025 Moon Calendar. Every little detail, including the moon phases is hand-drawn. This marks six years of collaborating with Christy Dawn, and I can’t wait for you to see it. Also, launching in just a few days is a stunning embroidered dress featuring my artwork, woven with autumn symbolism throughout. It’s been over a year in the making, and I’ll share all the details soon.
My canvas prints won’t be returning any longer, and they’re now listed at 50% off their original price on the website. Grab one while they’re still in stock.
Just preordered The Serviceberry, the latest book by Robin Wall Kimmerer. If you enjoyed Braiding Sweetgrass, I know you’re looking forward to this one as much as I am.
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I’m excited for what’s coming next!! 🎴
Vanja, thank you for always standing in your truth. To me thats deeply inspiring!! ✨🌛🤎🪐🕯️