Hello, friends! I am here to share a mighty journey with you—where, you may ask?— to the Land of Oz!

For several years, I have followed the work of world-renowned art therapist Cornelia Elbrecht, founder of the Institute for Sensorimotor Art Therapy in Apollo Bay, Australia. I discovered her by falling down a rabbit hole on Amazon while searching for books on art and healing and promptly ordered two of her books, Healing Trauma Through Guided Drawing and Trauma Healing at the Clay Field. I signed up for her blog, devouring it as soon as it popped into my inbox every month, heartened and inspired by words and images that conveyed hope.

Even when I was too young to have the words for it, art brought comfort and a language to express myself. My favorite things to draw were flowers and grass, the sun and rainbows, animals, and a girl flying her kite. I vividly remember sitting at our dark wooden table downstairs as my crayon lines bumped over the pencil gouge marks in the wood beneath the paper, feeling a sense of calm wash over me as I was drawn into the rhythm of mark-making. The secret of creating had been unlocked in the most natural of ways.

This is accessible to us all, no matter the perceptions we hold of our creative abilities— after all, we possess an innate ability to use our hands for expression in a myriad of ways. What a relief that we do not have to be born with some special gene! We just need to show up and give ourselves permission to let our hands move…

Cornelia’s powerhouse books stirred up great excitement and a deep hunger to learn more. Only months after receiving them, COVID struck, prompting ISAT to create online training for Initiatic Sensorimotor Art Therapy Certification— a direct response to the pandemic sweeping the world— and certainly, a creative labor of love to make it accessible to all. I dove in and graduated with the first cohort of individuals 💜. You can read more about this life-changing experience here.

After completing my certification 15 intensive months later, I began exploring in-person training (eek!) for the second level of Sensorimotor Art Therapy—Healing in the Clay Field. The decision to continue down the yellow brick road to Australia (a very long road from the hills of Kentucky!) was not made on a whim but after deep discernment about the amount of effort, resources, and funding it would take to travel there. My spouse, however, couldn't have been more encouraging from the get-go for me to take advantage of this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity— despite the fact that he would be holding down the fort with our boys, 3 dogs, and 3 cats for 3 entire weeks while still working full time (not for the faint of heart, and unlike anything remotely similar we had ever done! ❤️🙏)

I took the plunge, believing in my gut and heart that what lay ahead would be worth its weight in gold! (Words screenprinted on a T-shirt my brother gave me over 30 years ago popped into my head: “Leap like a lunatic over the chasm below— Your true self awaits you, now you will know”. Tis funny how appropriate words resurface when we most need them, even decades later!)

Many snafus and 3 airplanes later, we crossed the equator as a hot pink line of a pre-dawn sunrise reflected onto cloudtops beyond my window, illuminating the distant sky as if in a dream. The plane quickly descended through ephemeral clouds and into heavy rain covering Melbourne International Airport, which awaited with lines snaking in so many directions that we throngs of exhausted, irritable, and confused travelers were (almost!) comical as we attempted to find the quickest way out of the maze to freedom.

Two and a half hours later, I triumphantly followed the final yellow arrows painted on the floor and strode through the last bit of customs and biosecurity into the lobby, free to explore and continue my adventure on Australian soil. I don’t know that I have ever been more excited to exit out into the downpour of rain!

When I finally arrived at my hotel and heaved my luggage into the dry foyer, I cheered with upstretched arms as the front desk clerks nervously glanced at each other and asked if they could help me, perhaps wondering if I was in the wrong place. I told them of my long journey from America, that it was my first time out of the States by myself, and of the training that lay ahead. After finally getting me checked in and holding my bags until late afternoon, they handed me a large umbrella and wished me well on my merry way back through the front doors.

I took off like a bat greeting newly darkened skies, flying down the street in search of coffee, haha, registering the fact that I had been awake for 35 hours by the time I landed and that I needed to stay up for another 11 before sleeping. Thankfully, that was not a problem, as Melbourne was a sight for sore eyes and the rich, dark coffee I slowly sipped was every bit as delicious and divine as the locals proudly said! (The chocolate purchased at the market next door didn’t hurt, either ;)).

As I dodged deep puddles of water, my eyes scanned the walkway ahead, widening in delight when they spied a huge white abstract sculpture collection farther down the wharf. I resisted the urge to run across the slick pavement, but was unable to contain my delight as I walked between and around them, studying and admiring while loudly exclaiming to myself. No one seemed to mind (or perhaps were just being polite).

Beyond these biomorphic figures, iridescent glass adorned the facades of the tall, curved buildings that stood at the water's edge, illuminating the wonderful sculptures that seemed to rise up out of the cement. (I could hear Dorothy say to her dear dog, “Toto, I have a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore”— and could feel it from head to toe, amazed by what I had seen just minutes into my exploration!)

As I turned onto the main road that led downtown, my ears tuned into the repeated clacking of trams arriving and departing, throngs of people speaking a multitude of languages as they bustled to and fro, against the sounds of busy sidewalks, markets, and restaurants in full swing in Melbourne’s city centre. It was exhilarating!

I made my way past the colorful construction zones painted with vibrant murals (made all the more interesting by their reflections), and strolled past poppy plants growing in small dirt piles on the periphery of these zones… (are they not LOVELY?)

I peered into hotel and bank lobbies with indigenous artists’ work covering entire walls,

…and walked into 2 different galleries in the matter of the first hour, engaging in meaningful conversation with incredibly welcoming and engaging docents.

I could sense the pride of this city and its diverse peoples, aware of deep respect for the Indigenous Australian Peoples forced off the very land beneath our feet. In every establishment, this was acknowledged on placards by the door, paying respect to elders past and present of whichever group lived in that specific location. I have never seen anything like this in establishments in the States, despite all of us inhabiting land that was taken from those before us. Seeing the truth out in plain daylight was refreshing and made me quite contemplative as I pondered the land back home where we live and play.

The next morning, I walked miles (haha—not quite grasping the directions the first time they were given by a local as they pointed in the direction of the museum;)) to the Ian Potter Centre in the National Gallery of Victoria/NGV, which exhibited artwork solely created by Australian artists. The entire first floor was dedicated to indigenous Peoples artists. It was incredible!

The natural materials, colors, forms, and patterns in every piece of artwork reflected a daily life and community built on connection and interdependence with the earth.

I soaked up each piece as I read story after story shared in artist statements, changed by what I read. What a privilege to view work steeped in tradition and deep commitment to family, land, and life.

(→PLEASE SCROLL DOWN A GOOD BIT IF WANTING TO AVOID SKELETAL ART.)

As I headed upstairs to see the work of Australian artists, my eyes were shocked to land on these giants as I rounded the staircase.

I slowly walked over to the life-size skulls and took several deep breaths, unable to stop the quickening of my heart. When I turned around and looked through the doorway and into the spotlit display in the midst of darkness, my breath caught again.

Being confronted with mortality on this scale is hard to put into words. Each unique skull was hand-carved by artist Ron Mueck and lowered by crane into a precise location. They were massively confrontive, yet beautiful. If there was one thing I was here to do in AU, it was to experience life. Being reminded of the truth of impermanence made me soak up the opportunity and privilege all the more.

The next day I managed to figure out transport from tram to train station and from train to bus to car, meeting up with two participants in the training who kindly offered to give me a lift 3 hours south to Claerwen Retreat where we would train, lodge, and grow together.

Finding my new mates was just about a miracle, as the bus/train station seemed to be located in the middle of fields, and I had to cross several parking lots, traverse stairs and cross a bridge over the trains to connect (dragging my super heavy luggage, loaded bag of groceries, and a backpack so full that it nearly tipped me backwards, lol)—such joy and relief to meet these smiling women and hop into their tiny jam-packed car. We gleefully headed southward and eventually through the Great Otways National Park to Apollo Bay, where the Institute for Sensorimotor Art Therapy awaited.

Friends, this is where the magic of my journey really begins, but I suspect that needs to wait for part two of this blog post! However, it is timely to say that traveling to the southern tip of AU brought me into contact with some of the most beautiful things I have seen and experienced in my lifetime. ✨✨✨

I knew that I would go home and create a body of work springing from these stunning natural inspirations and offer them as my new artwork release, aptly entitled, “AWE”.

awe

/ô/

noun

1. a feeling of reverential respect mixed with fear or wonder.

Because you support my art life with your interest and engagement, you will receive early access and special pricing for “AWE” for three days before I release it to the public on February 4th, when it resumes regular value.

~ If you receive my email newsletter, you will notice the same notification. Apologies for the duplicity, but I want to offer the special discount for all who support me—you are a very important part of my connections and art circle. THANK YOU!

Here is a sneak peak of the macro photography that became the foundation for some of the encaustic carvings and constructed pods to be released! I can’t say how many times the women I was with laughed and joined in my fascination as these bits of beauty met my eyes and filled my whole being with awe. May they transmit that reverential respect and wonder for you, too!

In a couple of weeks, PPart II of Follow the Yellow Brick Road will arrive in your inbox, picking up on my journey from the mountaintop of the Institute for Sensorimotor Art Therapy.

I continue to walk in gratitude alongside you beautiful beings as we connect over art and life. May we continue to help one another as we travel the yellow brick road.

Let me know what fills your heart with awe!

❤️, Michelle