Symbolic Art: The Making of Spiritual Poverty | Spiritual Abundance
There’s a tension that many of us feel — between the richness of our inner lives and the struggles of the outside world. My linocut print, Spiritual Poverty | Spiritual Abundance, was born from that tension. It is not usual for me to create from a state of uncertainty. There are moments when creating feels like the right way to bring more insight to what is truly happening in the quiet space of the heart.
This print came into being in the moment of experiencing a difficult period — yet underneath that darkness, underneath my skin, I still sensed vitality, abundance and the love for living and experiencing life.
This piece is deeply symbolic. I was inspired by a tarot card — the Five of Pentacles, illustrated by Pamela Colman Smith — which depicts figures out in the cold, walking past a glowing window they don’t seem to notice. That image struck me. The idea that abundance can be so near, yet feel unreachable. That we can carry so much potential within us — talent, energy, vision — and still feel shut out by the world.
At the time, I felt blocked. My mind was full of powerful thoughts and ideas, but my external world didn’t reflect that richness. As a beginning artist, I face the stigma of needing to "survive" in a culture that doesn’t always support creativity. I saw clearly the gap between inner abundance and outer scarcity — a gap many creative souls know all too well.
The print itself is refers to the spirit of gothic architecture and the writings of John Ruskin. I love how gothic architecture carries both spiritual energy and human individuality — they’re expressions of unity, inspired labour and nature, yet each structure carries the hand of the maker. There’s a rhythm and vitality in their organic forms. Since that thought resonates with me so deeply: intuitively, I tried to reflect that same energy in my lines. Contrasting with the abundance, within the piece there is a moment of stillness, the deep void below the window. That stillness offers space for reflection. It is a story of something deeply personal, yet universal.
What surprised me most were the interpretations people shared after seeing the work.
One buyer told me, “Even though I bought it, it felt like a spiritual gift.” Another said, “My father placed crucifixes in every room of our house. I always saw them as symbols of suffering. But your print… it reminds me that faith can also be a source of something great, bright and positive.”
These reflections gave me something back — a reminder of why I do this work. Not just to express what I feel, but to offer others a mirror, or perhaps a moment of recognition.
Whether you see this print as a reflection of spiritual longing, the creative journey, or a promise of hope — I wonder if it speaks to something in you.
Even in the cold, there is a source of warmth to be discovered.