Art is a story. It is meant to be seen, felt, and experienced. Like chapters waiting to be found, the artist is the storyteller and the creative process becomes the path to the finished piece. For Lilith Divine, each painting is shaped by symbolism, intuition, and the many discoveries that are nurtured long before it reaches the viewer.
In this intimate space, ideas are deeply explored, and given the freedom to flourish in its own time. While the finished work is what we ultimately experience, the journey can reveal so much about the vision and intention that brought it to life.
Through her richly detailed, narrative-driven work, Lilith Divine invites us into the sacred spirit – steeped in emotion, archetypal imagination, and a powerful sense of wonder. Like a peek behind the curtain, she shares a closer look at the inspirations, decisions, and artistic approach that guide her thoughtful vision from conception to completion.
“I can hear the sound of the magic drum played by the shaman, illuminated by a breathtaking sunset whose clouds resemble a primordial eagle. The layers of brushstrokes merge, the colors blend, and the self-doubt disappears…”
Lilith Divine Creative Process In Her Words
One morning, while still half asleep, I was fully waking up, gaining consciousness and thinking about my horse. I was looking at his muzzle. Black at the top with thick fur and many small white spots. I was wondering where he was… I felt anxious… only to then realize that I have never had a horse in this life, which will soon be half a century long.
As a young girl, I used to ride horses at a stable near my house, but none of them looked like the horse I felt so strongly was mine. That is how the idea for this painting started—the second of a triptych. I wanted to capture my horse on canvas. If that vision, that dream, was so intense, clearly in another life, that beautiful animal didn’t want me to forget him.
Often, my paintings begin this way… they are dreams and stories that continue day after day, following one another like pages of a book.
And just like that, I run to grab my sketchbook and draw everything that remains clear from the dream. Looking back at all my sketches, my paintings, I can clearly see today that they follow a story—my inner voice screaming powerfully. An immense need to scream the things people no longer want to listen to.
I started this painting months ago, drawing without filters in my sketchbook and on canvas with my charcoal.
I chose to take all the time I needed for this piece, which I started alongside two others, many small artworks, and bookmarks that I sell at fairs—to make a little money, and to hide from my proverbial self-doubt. I started fighting with myself from the very beginning over this painting.
Do I like the horse’s coat? Is the muzzle anatomically correct? And so many other questions I keep asking myself.
So I pulled out my collection of National Geographic magazines from the 1980s (you can find hundreds of them at flea markets) precisely because these images are the work of great photographers, not digital programs… and I still haven’t finished the muzzle.
It is layers upon layers of oil paint, changes of mind, and hair. Thousands of micro-brushstrokes for the coat and the mane. I am highly self-critical, and above all, I realize now more than ever that I often panic and freeze.
I don’t feel up to what I am painting or how I am painting it. And this is where a fundamental figure in the creation of my paintings enters the scene: my husband! With his calmness, he makes me understand that often, all it takes is to close my eyes, go back to that dream, that vision… and everything becomes clear again. He always tells me: ‘The wealth we have is not in a full wallet, but in the gift that you, your hands, and your heart possess… paint the way you know how, and the painting will paint itself.'”
So, I start painting again, with a little more confidence. I can hear the sound of the magic drum played by the shaman, illuminated by a breathtaking sunset whose clouds resemble a primordial eagle. The layers of brushstrokes merge, the colors blend, and the self-doubt disappears (at least for ten minutes, which is already a milestone).
Painting, for me, is an urgent necessity. It is vital that I paint—sometimes to scream my anger at the offenses committed against Mother Earth and her creatures, sometimes to put on canvas what I was searching for… my ancestral roots and my connection to Mother Nature, as if my visions were part of a photo album from a life I don’t have. It was ripped away from me. And it is not easy to do all of this being a 50-year-old mother painting in her semi-controlled chaos.
But never forget that when the brush refuses to glide across the canvas, you must never force your hand.
There are three things anyone can do for free: watch a sunset, TURN OFF YOUR PHONE, breathe… and finally, go back to painting (I am leaving too, because the painting, obviously, is not finished) … thank you.
Finished painting, titled “Horse of fire”, in honor of the new year we entered and the coincidence was magical.
