Obsession

Three small drawings (2026)

Obsession

Last year I drew Mary Magdalene again and again—dozens of times. This year, so far, I have completed only three. These small drawings came to me over a few inspired days earlier this year. In them, Mary Magdalene appears as part of nature, immersed in her quiet, ongoing meditation on life.

My studio is ready once more for drawing and painting. After a month of cleaning, reorganizing, and adding new storage space, the room feels renewed. It feels almost like a small shrine—an intimate place where Mary Magdalene sits beside me as I create, playfully and freely.

Playful creation has become something deeply important to me. “Have fun!” I often say when saying goodbye to people. It seems to me that we take things so seriously that we forget life is meant to be enjoyed.

When things become too serious—when we obsess over perfection or some other rigid idea—joy quietly disappears, and impostor syndrome tends to take its place. I don’t suffer from impostor syndrome very often, except sometimes in my day job. There, I occasionally feel like an artist pretending to be a boss—someone who secretly doesn’t want to tell anyone what to do. I become serious and stressed, wondering how I arrived there when that isn’t truly who I am.

What I truly want is to be in my studio, obsessing over lines, shapes, colors, and poetry. I want to obsess over the soft transitions of shading across the face of the Magdalene, making sure she appears peaceful, enlightened, and deeply meditative. That, to me, feels like the right use of obsession.

The artist—and the mystic—often carries a natural capacity for obsession. This capacity can either elevate us or lead us astray. When misdirected, it can turn into workaholism, addiction, or perfectionism in things that ultimately do not matter. Obsession itself is a gift, but if it is not directed toward something meaningful or beautiful, it can easily become an ordinary attachment to something insignificant or even harmful.

Cultivated wisely, however, obsession can guide us toward devotion, creativity, and spiritual growth. When we allow it to serve the sublime, it becomes a path toward deeper awareness and love. When we allow it to blind us, it can take us far from what truly nourishes the soul.

Perhaps that is why I drew Mary Magdalene every day last year—feeding an obsession that felt sacred and alive. And I continue now, allowing new obsessions to emerge, trusting them to guide the quiet work of the soul.