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The Space Between
There exists a space between what is real and what is imagined, a liminal ground where the personal and the collective intertwine. It is neither one nor the other, but something woven from both—a shifting terrain of memory, dream, and experience. Here, what we perceive as truth dissolves into myth, and what we dismiss as fiction leaves an imprint on our reality. This is the space of interwoven realities, where the self is never solitary. We move through it carrying echoes of stories told before us, narratives absorbed through time, fragments of past lives that shape our own. Our private thoughts are never entirely ours; they are stitched together from the remnants of culture, history, and whispered voices. In this space, what we call identity is porous. The boundaries between self and other, then and now, fact and fiction blur, revealing a deeper truth: we are always more than one. Reality itself is a weave of overlapping threads, a tapestry that belongs to no single hand. In Interwoven Realities, De Souza Gallery´s new online exhibition on Artsy, six contemporary artists—Greg Bryce, Sandi Goodwin, Elizabeth Hefty-Khoury, Aubrey Ramage-Lay, Tina McCallan, and Juan Petry—bring together diverse perspectives through layered approaches to abstraction, symbolism, and storytelling. This online-exclusive exhibition explores the fluid boundaries between the real and the imagined, personal and collective, chaos and order. Greg Bryce’s bold compositions blur the lines between abstraction and representation, evoking a visceral sensory experience. Sandi Goodwin’s gestural and textured works reveal a delicate tension between control and spontaneity. Elizabeth Hefty-Khoury weaves myth and cultural memory through painting and drawing, reinterpreting ancient symbols for a contemporary audience. Aubrey Ramage-Lay merges figuration with abstraction, using recurring symbols like birds and snakes to explore transformation and interconnected realities. Tina McCallan’s playful, irreverent abstractions subvert traditional form and color, bringing energy and unexpected connections into her practice. Juan Petry’s conceptual works, deeply influenced by social sculpture, offer a philosophical lens on community and the role of the artist in society. Together, these artists invite viewers to navigate multiple layers of meaning—revealing the hidden and the unspoken, offering glimpses into shared experiences and unseen worlds. The Near Eastern figure of Baubo and the Sheela na Gig of the British Isles and Western Europe share striking similarities in their iconography and possible functions. Both are often depicted as grotesque, exaggerated female figures emphasizing the vulva, and both are linked to themes of fertility, protection, and the subversive power of sexuality. Baubo: The Laughing Goddess of Obscenity and Healing Baubo appears in Greek mythology, particularly in the Homeric Hymn to Demeter, where she is a bawdy, grotesque, and humorous figure who exposes her genitals to the grieving goddess Demeter, causing her to laugh. This act restores Demeter’s spirit, ultimately allowing her to resume her search for her daughter Persephone. Some scholars believe that Baubo has roots in earlier Near Eastern goddesses associated with fertility and sexuality, such as Inanna-Ishtar or Anat, who were also linked to themes of death, renewal, and the life cycle. Baubo’s role suggests that sexuality, rather than being solely reproductive, held ritualistic and transformative power. Her explicit humor and bodily display appear to be tied to ancient rites of catharsis, protection, and renewal—functions that overlap with the later Sheela na Gig figures of Europe. Sheela na Gig: The Apotropaic Vulva Display Sheela na Gigs are medieval stone carvings found in Ireland, Britain, France, and Spain, featuring female figures holding open exaggerated vulvas. Their origins are debated, but their placement on churches, castles, and other structures suggests an apotropaic (protective) function, possibly to ward off evil, much like grotesques or gargoyles. Theories about Sheela na Gigs range from Christian moral warnings against lust to survivals of pre-Christian goddess worship. Some interpretations align them with fertility figures akin to Baubo or prehistoric mother goddess statues. Others view them as remnants of older beliefs in the magical power of female sexuality, reflecting traditions where the act of exposing the vulva—akin to the ancient Greek ritual of anasyrma—was thought to drive away malevolent forces. Connections and Theoretical Links The correlation between Baubo and the Sheela na Gig suggests a broader, possibly ancient Indo-European or even older Neolithic tradition in which exaggerated representations of female sexuality were not just fertility symbols but also had protective and liminal functions. The act of exposing the vulva, whether in art or ritual, appears across multiple cultures as a form of power—one that could restore balance, dispel negativity, and affirm life.
While there is no definitive proof that the Sheela na Gig directly descends from Baubo, their similarities hint at a continuity of belief systems where female sexuality and humor played key roles in sacred traditions. These figures challenge later moralistic interpretations of the body, revealing a more complex understanding of sexuality in early religious and spiritual contexts. They may represent echoes of a pre-Christian worldview where the vulva was not a source of shame but a symbol of life’s resilience and the mysteries of the divine.  Semana Santa, Sevilla, Spain. source: Shutterstock Throughout history, human societies have relied on traditions to structure their existence, providing a sense of identity, continuity, and belonging. Traditions arise from practical necessities, cultural expressions, or social customs, but over time, they often transform into sacred beliefs. What begins as a simple, everyday practice may evolve into an unquestionable religious tenet, shaping societal values and restricting creative freedom. This transformation—from tradition to religion—creates a self-perpetuating cycle that can be particularly oppressive to artists, who thrive on breaking boundaries and challenging norms. The Evolution from the Profane to the Sacred Many religious beliefs originate from habits and traditions that were initially secular in nature. One clear example is dietary restrictions in various faiths. Kosher and halal laws, for instance, stem from ancient hygienic and environmental concerns—meat spoils quickly in warm climates, and certain animals carried higher risks of disease. Over time, these pragmatic customs solidified into religious commandments, upheld not for their original utility but as divine decrees. Another example is the tradition of head coverings. In many cultures, covering one's head was initially a mark of modesty or social status. Over time, it became embedded in religious doctrine, such as in Christianity (nuns' habits), Islam (hijabs and turbans), and Judaism (kippahs). What was once a cultural signifier became a religious imperative, enforced with strict moral consequences. Similarly, ancestor worship in many Asian and African societies began as a means of honoring lineage and preserving family unity. Over generations, it evolved into structured rituals and even deification of ancestors, becoming an essential component of religious observance. The original intention—to respect one's forebears—became a rigid framework dictating how families must engage with their past. How Traditions Ensnare Society in a Vicious Cycle The transformation of tradition into religion often leads to stagnation, as customs become immutable laws rather than evolving with societal needs. This rigidity creates a cycle where questioning or deviating from tradition is seen as blasphemous, even when the original context has long disappeared. For example, arranged marriages were once a practical solution for maintaining family alliances and economic stability. Over centuries, they became deeply entrenched in religious customs, with some societies equating marriage arrangements with divine will. Even in modern contexts where individuals seek autonomy in choosing partners, the weight of tradition remains overwhelming, discouraging change and progress. The caste system in India provides another stark example. Initially a means of occupational categorization, it evolved into an immutable religious and social hierarchy that restricted personal freedom, mobility, and expression. Despite social reform efforts, the religious framing of caste makes it difficult to dismantle completely, perpetuating inequality. The Artistic Struggle: Breaking Free from Tradition For artists, traditions can be both a source of inspiration and an insidious trap. While many artists draw from cultural heritage, they often find themselves at odds with society when they challenge sacred norms. Throughout history, artists who have dared to reinterpret religious or traditional symbols have faced censorship, persecution, or exile. Consider the case of Caravaggio, whose dramatic, hyper-realistic religious paintings challenged the idealized forms preferred by the Church. His use of common people as models for biblical figures was seen as profane, despite its artistic brilliance. Similarly, modern artists like Ai Weiwei in China have faced political and religious backlash for their critical engagement with tradition. Women artists, in particular, struggle against traditions that confine them to rigid roles. In societies where traditional gender norms are reinforced by religious doctrine, female artists who depict themes of sexuality, power, or autonomy often face intense scrutiny. The mere act of creating art can be seen as rebellion, as witnessed in the censorship of women’s literature, paintings, and performances throughout history. Breaking the Cycle If traditions become rigid religious beliefs, how can society—and particularly artists—break free? The answer lies in constant questioning and reinterpretation. Traditions should be living entities, open to adaptation rather than static dictates. Just as folklore evolves with each retelling, so too should our relationship with inherited customs. Artists play a crucial role in this process. By reimagining traditions, they highlight their contradictions, expose their outdated elements, and offer alternative perspectives. This requires courage, as breaking sacred customs often invites backlash. Yet, history has shown that artistic rebellion can lead to cultural transformation. One example is the Harlem Renaissance, where African American artists reclaimed and redefined their cultural and religious heritage through literature, music, and visual arts. By taking ownership of their narrative, they challenged stereotypes rooted in both social tradition and religious dogma. Similarly, feminist artists in the 20th and 21st centuries have used their work to critique patriarchal traditions that have been enshrined in religious doctrine. The evolution from tradition to religion is a powerful force that shapes society, often in ways that limit progress and creative expression. What begins as simple, secular practice can become a binding rule, enforced with the weight of divine authority. While traditions provide cultural continuity, they also risk trapping individuals, especially artists, within a cycle of dogma and suppression. The challenge lies in maintaining a balance: respecting cultural heritage while allowing room for growth, interpretation, and change. Artists, philosophers, and free thinkers must continue to push boundaries, questioning the validity of inherited customs. Only by doing so can society escape the vicious cycle of tradition and embrace a more dynamic, evolving cultural landscape.  Let’s talk about something that’s been bothering me since I realized crayons came with “instructions.” Ever notice how, from kindergarten, we’re taught to color inside the lines, raise our hands before speaking, and say “please” even when asking for something like broccoli? It’s all part of a grand conspiracy - yes, I said conspiracy! - to turn us into responsible, rule-abiding adults. But somewhere between the ABCs and filing taxes, one question looms large: are we just mastering the past, or are we preparing to make a future worth living in? And if you’re an artist, that question comes with bonus existential dread. Conformity: The Artist’s Frenemy Education is great—don’t get me wrong. (Stay in school, kids!) It teaches us what humans have figured out so far: gravity is a thing, pyramids are pointy, and Vincent van Gogh really needed a hug. But here’s the kicker: the same system that teaches us about innovation often penalizes us for trying to innovate ourselves. “No, Timmy, the sky is not purple! That’s incorrect.” Poor Timmy—he could’ve been the next Kandinsky. The problem is conformity gets a bad rap. It’s like kale: nobody likes it, but we all admit it’s necessary (or is it?) Rules provide structure; they keep society from descending into a Mad Max sequel. Even artists, those supposed renegades, rely on frameworks. Beethoven didn’t reinvent music without knowing the rules of harmony first. (Also, fun fact: he probably would’ve been great at flipping Monopoly tables during family game night.) But let’s be honest—conformity’s BFF is boredom. Innovation: The Ultimate Rule Breaker Enter innovation, stage left, wearing mismatched socks and a hat made of recycled yogurt lids. Innovation doesn’t care about your rules. It’s the kid in the back of the classroom drawing dinosaurs on their math homework. Artists, more than anyone, live in that space. We stare at the rules, squint hard, and ask, “What if?” What if a urinal is art? (Thanks, Duchamp.) What if soup cans are iconic? (Hi, Warhol.) What if I just paint a single black square and call it revolutionary? (Malevich waves smugly from 1915.) Art thrives in that tension between conformity and innovation. If conformity is the steady drumbeat, innovation is the wild saxophone solo that makes everyone wonder if the musician has gone rogue—or found genius. Free Will vs. Rules Set in Stone Ah, free will. The thing every artist swears they have—until the rent is due. The struggle between freedom and restriction is eternal. Think of it like a dance-off between two equally awkward but determined contestants. On one side, you’ve got free will, flailing and improvising wildly, shouting, “I do what I want!” On the other, rules, stoic and unyielding, respond with, “But if you don’t follow me, it’s chaos.” Here’s the twist: they’re both right. Rules can feel suffocating, but they give you something to push against. Without gravity, astronauts don’t float in style—they just float. The same is true for artists. Rules provide a framework; free will provides the fire to set that framework ablaze. It’s a love-hate relationship, like peanut butter and jelly. (Or peanut butter and pickle sandwiches, for you weirdos out there.) The Artist as a Time Traveler So, where does this leave us artists? Are we historians, chronicling the past? Are we inventors, imagining the future? Or are we just time travelers who forgot to read the manual? Artists, whether we like it or not, are the bridge between what was and what could be. We take the lessons of the past, slap a fresh coat of paint on them, and shove them into the future, shouting, “Here, deal with this!” We are both conformists and rebels, rule-followers and trailblazers. Think about it: Michelangelo didn’t paint the Sistine Chapel because he was free—he was literally told to do it. Yet he snuck in some rebellious anatomy and eyebrow-raising poses. It’s the ultimate artist move: obey the rules just enough to stay employed, but break them in ways that make people talk about you for centuries. Finding the Funny in the Struggle Now, let’s inject some humor into this oh-so-heavy topic. Because if there’s one thing artists and kindergarteners have in common, it’s the ability to laugh at authority. Remember how your teacher used to say, “You can be anything when you grow up”? That’s a trap. They want you to aim for astronaut, not surrealist painter. But here’s the thing: surrealist painters have more fun. We spend our days putting clocks on tree branches and calling it deep. Astronauts? They’re stuck following the rules of physics. Boring. Or take the phrase, “Think outside the box.” Why is there even a box in the first place? Who put it there? And why is everyone obsessed with escaping it instead of decorating it with glitter and googly eyes? Closing Thoughts In the end, the artist’s role isn’t to destroy rules or blindly follow them. It’s to question them, bend them, and occasionally break them—preferably in a way that makes people laugh, cry, or at least say, “Huh, interesting.” So, the next time someone tells you to color inside the lines, grab a bigger piece of paper. Because rules are just suggestions, and suggestions are just opportunities for creativity to run amok. And who knows? Maybe that purple sky Timmy was painting back in kindergarten wasn’t “wrong” after all. Maybe it was just the future calling. |
