Spatiality — The place I now occupy
And the space around us
photo© Erin Johnson room of mirrors, Canal House Museum - Amsterdam
November 23, 2025
There once was a man who sculpted beautiful horses out of marble. The statues that he would create were well loved and adored. All who came to see them would stand mesmerized, looking up with wonder at these great animals forged from stone. A wild aliveness, spirit, and animated force emanated from within. Even though they were frozen in marble they appeared real. When asked, how do you do this? How are you able to render these creatures with such accuracy? He replied simply, I simply remove everything that is not horse.
For years as a PanchaKarma therapist I’d administer a treatment called netra basti. In bathing the eyes in warm ghee, a highly overused, stressed, and over-stimulated sense organ was allowed to rest. The magic of the therapy would surface after the fact. The realization: to what extent the eyes were fatigued, sore, and dry. One would feel the eye settle back into the head. More space would be sensed in the interiors. Only one of the body’s sensing tools, the eyes are potent transmutators of light. Interestingly, the pupil is simply an opening. Like a window it allows light inside. Inside there’s a gelatinous space for the light to bounce and refract. From there it ignites an effect through the nervous system, cascading light into sight, color, inspiration, and perception. The same is true for frequencies into sound, hydrophilic chemistry and mastication into taste, and so on. Sensing and spatiality go hand in hand.
I myself am unapologetically going through a time of revelation and visioning. And as such, the space around me and within plays a role. It’s as though I’m submerged. That my life is happening up there while I’m underwater. Separate and patient, yet all the while trusting that from the spaciousness something will emerge.
The sculpture is aware that something is inside. There is a space within that is wanting to be found. How we sense and experience our surroundings is dependent upon space. So if we never allow for spaciousness, then what?
from Ann Hamilton’s FALLEN
I’m forever grateful for my friendships, for falling golden leaves, rain, and warmth, for fearlessly creative people expressing themselves through artistic mediums. This coming week, may we remember the essentialness of relationship and reunion—for the space that we share between us and the interior hearth that may be revealed.
Yours, Erin
The day I’m writing and posting this essay it’s cold and damp. It’s been raining for hours, saturating leaves and soil so brittle and desiccated from months without water.
The leaves are a mix of gold, green, and auburn. FALLEN, a photography project by ANN HAMILTON reminds me of everything I love about autumn. Take a look, close up, of the light and beauty in the world.
(**toggle through the images by clicking to the right or left of the leaf**)