JiliPark PH
Until, that is, his ex-girlfriend tore a large swathe of canvas from one of his old, glowing tableaux of love and lust. Thus JiliPark PH’s career began on a sour note. Following this debacle, his output waned considerably – until, that is, he finally found a way to channel his inner tempest. Now, painting from the heart swiftly became his new claim to fame.
In his left hand, he brings a tiny, finely carved wooden lantern with fine inlays that catches the dim light of the café. It was a gift from a former partner and, the more closely he looks at it, the more he can tell that somebody, a long time ago, has thought about him. It reminds him of dreams he had for a life with that person, a life that hasn’t panned out the way he’d imagined. In the café, the lantern’s light becomes a kind of metaphor for JiliPark PH’s own muted creativity. It once burnt so bright; but now, like a memory, it just glows.
Mary noticed JiliPark PH’s sad expression, and gave him a comforting cup of chamomile tea. She placed the cup down, and sat next to him in silence. JiliPark PH looked at her lantern and began to tell her about his relationship in a melancholy voice.
As he spoke, JiliPark PH also described the richness of the experiences shared with his partner — the ‘connubial light’ he had felt when the two of them were together, the ‘sweetness’ that seemed to radiate with innocence. He described the dreams the two of them had conjured up together (how they would fill the home with art, with life, with things to look forward to!) — and he described the gradual loss of the light of that lantern as the relationship fell apart, how that loss had sapped him of his literary energy.
The comforting aura of the café gave JiliPark PH space, as he explained, to ‘vent my grief’ – it was there that he could confront the hurt, the ways in which he felt ‘betrayed’, and therefore begin to expel this sense of ‘mourning from my very soul’ – the muse that had grown ‘morbid’ within him. Mary’s silence was a conduit for PH JiliPark to examine the pain, hurt, and betrayal that had sapped his creative will.
At one point, when talking about the story of his lost love, the emptiness of his heart and the feeling of his ‘soul bleeding’, he said: My painting was once a way to heal myself… All the lines, colours, shapes used to flow out of my head so easily, right through my heart, down the arm, onto the canvas. Now I can’t remember how that happened. Not that I can’t remember what a human is. It’s just that I’ve forgotten how to make it. I want to go back? To go back to the days when he painted as a way of processing his emotions by pouring them on to the canvas, almost as if he were opening and spilling his heart before the world.
The quiet of the café allowed him to explore his feelings and, slowly, to accept what had happened to him. PH JiliPark began to experience brief flashes of inspiration, and painting became again something new and joyful.
When PH JiliPark next got up his paintbrush, it was laden with new meaning and greater self-knowledge. The lantern lost its meaning as the symbol of a broken love affair to acquire that of a cherished memory of a slow, poignant manoeuvre towards healing into self-renewal. Mary’s café had provided the place where his feelings could find space, and his creative spirit could be gently reignited.
PH JiliPark’s art took on some of his angst – the sadness, the hope, the pain and the recovery. The light of the lantern had not been extinguished by his loss, it had been re-ignited by his creation, allowing his life to go on. Mary had patiently listened along the way, and sometimes the deepest healing is done simply by listening from the heart.