Elephants : Memory : Matriarch

I was curled up one night with a cup of tea, looking for something inspiring to watch before falling asleep, when I came across The Elephant Queen.   It’s no secret that I love nature—and I love documentaries that show the lives of the animals we share this planet with.

Be warned: although this documentary is beautiful, parts of it are heartbreaking.

I cried my eyes out at the loss of Mimi. 
But I was certainly inspired and what stayed with me most was the story of how matriarch elephants lead their herds to food and water sources remembered from years ago.
Not GPS. Not chance—memory.

That word stopped me.
Memory. I felt it stir something ancient in me - And before I could put words to it, I saw her in my mind’s eye. The Elephant Mother. I began drawing out her form as I sat and watched the documentary.

I realized she wasn’t just Athena, she wasn't just one elephant.
She was the collective memory of the Earth,
a divine Empress of the land she walked, a keeper of lineage, a divine mother, and maybe, somehow, she was a part of me too.

When I started the piece, I didn’t know what it would become. That’s how most of my paintings arrive. I receive a feeling—sometimes a flash, sometimes a slow unfolding—and the image reveals itself as I move and work through the details of the piece.

I don’t always feel like I’m the one doing the painting.
In fact, I often say that when I reach the point where I “have no idea what I am doing”, that’s when the flow begins. And in that moment, I become playfully aware that the painting is coming through me. That I am using the tools and techniques that I know, to explore my subconcious, to translate and convey feelings and ideas into visual imagery.

This one felt like a ceremony.

Her eyes had to hold the wisdom of centuries.
Her body had to carry both sorrow and power.
And through it all, she needed to radiate a deep soulful knowing.

As I worked, I thought about how elephants—like crows—have been witnessed in ceremonial mourning of their dead. How they remember lost ones and return to the places where bones were last seen. How they walk for miles, guided by maps written on the soul. And it hit me:

We are the same.

We all carry the weight of what came before us.
We grieve things we don’t always have names for.
We long to return to some forgotten place where we were once whole.

This painting washed over me as I worked on it—becoming a portal into that remembering. 

Midway through painting her, my playlist switched.
I have many curated playlists on Spotify that I use while working.
Because I have synesthesia, sound is so important to translating feeling in my process.
So I’m intentional about the songs or sounds that are playing while working on art.

But this time, my curated playlist ended, and Spotify recommended a Ganesha Mantras playlist.
I didn’t stop working. I didn’t ask it to change.
I felt it as synchronicity.

Ganesha, the elephant-headed Hindu deity, is known as the remover of obstacles, bringer of good fortune and new beginnings, and the patron of the arts and sciences.

But this wasn’t about religious iconography or symbolism.
It was something deeper and broader—a feeling.

Maybe this beautiful matriarch was is a threshold guardian.
Maybe she doesn’t just remember the past—
she clears the path forward.

I made this piece for the ones who carry more than what can be seen.
For the ones who feel like they were born remembering something they can’t quite name.
For the ones who’ve had to be strong for everyone else, who lead with love even when they’re weary.For the ones who protect and honor what is sacred.

You are not alone.
You never were.

And if you find yourself standing in front of this painting someday—
in person, or through the screen—
I hope she speaks to something wordless deep within you.
Something older than your name.

Something that says:
“I will show you the way back to the river, back to the deep pools of water, that hold memory, I will show you the way back to yourself."

 

What does ancestral memory mean to you?
Have you ever felt guided by something older than yourself?
I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments below.

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Elephant Mother of Ancestral Memory
30x48" acrylic on canvas
→ [Link to view or inquire]

Trailer of the movie that sparked the inspiration for this painting.