Honoring the Mystery: Why I Embrace Not Knowing in Art and Life
We live in a world that values answers.
We’re taught to seek clarity, pursue certainty, and define everything we encounter.
But the creative process doesn’t work that way.
And neither, I’ve found, does life.
At EMP, every piece I make begins not with a plan, but with a feeling.
And what follows is rarely linear. I don’t always know where I’m going — and I’ve learned to love that.
This blog is about honoring the mystery — not just in painting, but in being human.
Because not knowing isn’t failure.
It’s a different kind of wisdom.
Creating Without a Map
When I begin a painting, I rarely know what it will become.
There’s no sketch. No final image in my head.
Just a sense — a color I’m pulled toward, a movement I feel in my body, an emotion I can’t yet name.
This lack of a map used to scare me.
But now, it feels sacred.
Because what unfolds on the canvas is something more honest than anything I could plan.
It’s not a replication of an idea — it’s a response to the moment.
To what I’m feeling.
To what I’m ready to release or discover.
At EMP, I’ve come to see that not knowing is not a void — it’s an opening.
And in that openness, something true is born.
Letting Intuition Lead
There is a deep trust required in intuitive creation — the kind that bypasses logic and invites something bigger to move through you.
You follow the brush before you understand why
You sit in silence until the next step reveals itself
You add a layer, not because it makes sense, but because it feels necessary
This way of working mirrors the way feelings move.
They’re not rational.
They rise, shift, collide — and if you’re quiet enough, they lead you somewhere you never expected.
At EMP, I don’t wait until I understand what I’m feeling to begin a painting.
I let the process teach me what I’m feeling.
Learning to Listen
Embracing the unknown requires learning to listen.
To your body.
To your breath.
To the emotional undercurrent that may not yet have words.
I listen when:
A color keeps showing up in my mind
A gesture wants to be made, even if it “disrupts” the balance
A piece feels finished even when it doesn’t make sense on paper
This kind of listening is not passive.
It’s active. Deep. Embodied.
It’s trusting that the truth is not always loud — and that intuition often whispers before it shouts.
The Mystery as a Creative Partner
Many artists speak of “the muse,” or “the source,” or “the flow.”
For me, it feels like a quiet presence — something larger than myself — that joins me in the studio when I’m willing to surrender.
I don’t control it.
I don’t fully understand it.
But when I’m present, and open, and grounded, it arrives.
And through me, it creates.
This mystery — this unseen partner — is part of every EMP piece.
It’s the reason I often feel more like a vessel than a creator.
And I’m grateful for it.
Grateful to be a witness.
Grateful to be moved.
Why Not Knowing Is Necessary
In both art and life, not knowing is not a problem to solve — it’s a space to be with.
We don’t always know:
What we’re meant to create
What a decision will lead to
Why we’re drawn to something (or someone)
But if we wait until we know everything, we often miss the moment we were meant to step into.
At EMP, the most powerful pieces I’ve created were born from that space — from showing up without answers, and letting the process unfold through trust.
Letting the Viewer Have Their Own Experience
Just as I don’t always know what a piece means when I create it, I don’t try to control what it means for someone else.
Abstract art invites personal interpretation.
It asks the viewer to bring their own story, their own emotions, their own sense of wonder.
And when someone feels something I never intended, I know the work is alive.
Because mystery doesn’t stop at the artist’s hands.
It continues into the hands — and hearts — of everyone who engages with the work.
Applying Mystery to Life
Outside the studio, this practice of trusting the unknown has changed how I move through the world.
I’m more open to not having all the answers.
More willing to feel things without fixing them.
More curious about where emotion, energy, and intuition might lead.
We are not here to have everything figured out.
We are here to feel. To witness. To respond.
To keep showing up.
And just like a painting, life will reveal itself as we move with it — not before.
Creating With Gratitude
When I talk about honoring the mystery, I also mean being grateful for it.
Because mystery is what keeps this work alive.
It’s what keeps it sacred.
It’s what keeps me returning to the studio — again and again — not to replicate something, but to discover it.
Each piece at EMP is a reflection of that discovery.
A moment of surrender.
A conversation with something wordless and wild and true.
Conclusion: Living the Question
The poet Rilke once wrote: “Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves.”
This is what abstract art teaches me.
This is what life teaches me.
And this is what I offer through EMP.
Not answers.
Not clarity.
But the invitation to live the question.
To trust what you feel.
To honor what you don’t yet understand.
To create anyway.
To move anyway.
To love anyway.
Because the mystery isn’t something to escape.
It’s where everything begins.
