Jaci Ayorinde has an MFA from the Rochester Institute of Technology and has worked for decades as an arts educator. Her work in printmaking, painting, photography, and sculpture has been a vehicle for learning and exploration of the inner realms. She has also illustrated many Bahá’í children’s books and lives with her husband near Rochester, New York.
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For almost 20 years I come every summer to Seneca Lake and drive through Geneva. I have always been attracted to Geneva, to the historic streets and beautiful architecture. I stay on the west side of the lake in a very simple circa 1920 cottage owned by some dear friends. This solitude is my best creative time each year. Up the hill from the cottage are the railroad tracks that run the length of the lake. Most mornings walking along the tracks through the woods in the quiet something will catch my eye and I will stop and look. The stones along the tracks have always fascinated me because, within some of them, I see little compositions, mystical compositions that speak to me in a way I have begun to understand. I have collected these small stones for a few years now and recently have begun to look even more deeply and make drawing from them. Nature is a mirror of the attributes of the beloved divine Creator of the universe. The images in these stones are small, perfect compositions and through studying them I explore symbolically what they mean to me. I make drawings and then reflect on them. Some beg to be painted. Although imperfect, they are outward expressions of an inner process that seeks to bridge the gap between inner vision and response. I think it is the process of bearing witness to a small piece of nature that gives clues that maybe this time might lead to a fit form for my response. I guess I know the outcome before I begin, but this time, maybe, I will learn something more. Learning not to give up but have faith and stay in the process, fully acknowledging my powerlessness, usually leads to the courage to move ahead, and follow the promptings of the spirit.
I recognize when I am weary of the noise of life and painting appeases my hunger for silence. Painting is a prayer, an act of devotion, which despite its imperfection has the chance to ascend. I would like to share with the viewer that during the process of looking deeply and contemplating nature, the subtle signs and meanings may come into focus. Painting is as much an inner process as an outer one.
