The Jewel in the Lotus: What Building My First Art Installation Taught Me About Reclaiming My Creativity
Creativity and Me: A Long History
Creativity is something that I’ve had a complex dance with over the course of my lifetime. As a kid, I was more creatively inclined, opting for colouring, painting and drama classes over math and sciences. High school was a slog for me, and I had the attitude of enduring it rather than enjoying it once the fulfilling classes fell to the wayside in favour of physics, trigonometry and doing math with letters. This all made even more sense once I was diagnosed with ADHD a few years ago, well into my 40s after both of my kids received their own diagnosis. What I perceived as “just having a creative brain” was actually a bit more complicated.
Once I gave birth to my kids in my 20s, my access to free time for creative pursuits was almost nil; my focus was on mothering and earning. My college training in theatre wasn’t really a career boon, but as time went on, I realized it had given me core experience in project management, and my teenage jobs in the service industry taught me a lot about client service and human dynamics. I emerged into adulthood adept at adapting and learning fast.
As my youngest kid reached collegehood and my career life stabilized, I realized I needed to start having fun again (and as a side-note, you should NOT wait until your kids are that age to start having fun again - but that’s a whole different post); I signed up for guitar lessons to refresh my brain on another activity I’d put aside once my kids were born. I signed up for adult drawing classes, but it didn’t quite hit the mark for me. I’ve come to realize that I’d unconsciously assumed that type of creativity was no longer part of me, and that was something a different version of me in a different lifetime got to do. I didn’t particularly mourn this, but it just seemed like it was a fact.
How the Jewel Came to Be
When my relationship with Luis began, I could not have predicted how much of my creative force would be reawakened. It’s been a bit of a slow burn, but this past spring, for the first time ever, I got to see one of my creative concepts move from the idea stage to fully realized and not only that, but realized in the way I’d envisioned it. Together, he and I built The Jewel In The Lotus, an interactive, immersive installation that we brought to the Sideburn Regional Burn in Ontario, Canada, over the May 15 weekend. The concept for this piece came to us during a ceremony, which I believe was divinely inspired by our combined energy together. But this blog isn’t just about the end result; it’s about all the ways this process challenged and changed me as we moved from concept to build.
The Jewel In The Lotus is a jewel-like geometric structure covered in mirrored panels on the exterior, and within it lies a temple of self-reflection, complete with mirrors, mirrored tiles and a variety of other curiosities, fortunes and lights, all calling the experiencer to pause and connect with what facet of your internal jewel is wanting to be acknowledged. I think this is pretty cool. What’s hilarious to me now is that as a Reflector in Human Design, of COURSE I wanted to build something that would call others to reflect, but this legitimately didn’t even occur to me until we were three-quarters complete with the project.
What the Build Asked of Me
That’s right, I, Jessica Dawn Seguin, Reflector in Human Design, co-built a 12’ mirrored jewel, and it never occurred to me that there was a connection. What also didn’t occur to me was that I, a Reflector in Human Design, would also have to face myself while building this. I didn’t expect to be confronted with old stories about free time and “being allowed” to do a creative project, making mistakes, trusting others to follow through and about being and doing enough. I was in a whole mix of new experiences, from learning how to use power tools to working with geometric shapes in three dimensions, and my insecurities about my mathy weaknesses were on full display. There were so many moments during this project that had me pause because I couldn’t figure out what my actual tension point was. This sculpture was demanding that I let go of so many old stories in order for it to be fully born.
This process asked me to release the story that creativity was something I had outgrown, or that belonged to a younger version of me. It asked me to trust Luis in new ways, and even more uncomfortably, to trust myself in unfamiliar territory. That meant allowing myself to get it wrong. Whether it was a measurement off by half an inch or fumbling with a tool I'd never held, each of those moments was a small invitation to let go of an outdated story about myself. I had to let each story rise fully to consciousness and then choose to release it. None of this was comfortable.
Getting Her There
When Wednesday finally arrived to transport the Jewel, the conditions weren’t optimal; it was cold and rainy, and Luis had injured his knee, which required me to drive the truck with the trailer hauling a half-built shell. We drove slower than the speed limit, my jaw tight from tension the entire way. We finally drove onto our site, precariously navigating the kind of mud that sucks vehicles to a full stop. We would take the rest of that day and the entire following day to build her fully and install the remaining pieces. I was locked into a zone that had me in override of some pretty basic comforts like being warm and eating. Finally, on Friday morning, all that was left was to peel the protective coating off each mirrored panel.
The Unveiling
Standing in front of the Jewel, her mirrors reflecting everything around her, I couldn’t even take in the reality of the moment. Luis stood next to me and said, "We built this. You built this. I built this”. All three statements were true, and they needed to be named out loud. This was the unveiling, my first art piece to be shown, our first art piece together. I was in awe. I still am. And the impact wasn't finished yet.
Watching It Land
The next part came once people began experiencing it; a small group gathered and in they went. As they emerged, I stopped one of them and asked if they’d picked a fortune, because there was a special box with fortunes to pick from… And after that, one by one, each emerged, visibly changed by the experience as well as the fortune they’d chosen because each fortune I’d created was landing in a way only truth can. And I knew that I could only ask participants to go in with an open heart, mind and spirit if I’d been willing to do the same in bringing the Jewel to life.
That weekend was filled with so many experiences, but I kept returning to the Jewel. Watching people step inside and pause, stay a little longer than they anticipated, and emerge carrying whatever the experience had left in them was one of the most transformative things I've witnessed in years. It turns out that building a space for others to reflect was my initiation back into owning my creativity and artistry.
photo credit @chrisfarrisphotos
What It Gave Back
What this project gave me back wasn't just a creative win. It reminded me that I'm still someone who gets to create, who gets to learn, who gets to make things with her hands, her imagination, and the person she loves. If you've been holding any inner impulse or yearning at arm's length, waiting for the right time or the right permission; this impulse is pointing toward your next layer of growth. What is on the other side will teach you what you need to know. You don't have to be ready to begin.
If you're ready to step over your own threshold, The Illuminated Path was designed for exactly that. Book a discovery call, and we'll explore what's waiting for you.
