Garden of Dreams

oil on canvas by Elli Milan

I'm sitting in my little yellow chair in my mixed media studio, trying to focus on my computer work, but my gaze keeps drifting to the large canvas on my easel.

A few weeks ago, I covered it in inks to create a reel for social media. The inks swirled into colorful clouds of tone and visual texture. Every time I sit here, I see the same thing—an octopus. I can't unsee it. It's always there, staring at me as if to say, "When are you going to paint me?" The truth is, I don't want to paint an octopus; I feel no real connection to it.

My first encounter with an octopus was around the age of four or five. I saw a book in my dad's library titled 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, which featured a giant octopus on the cover. Not long after, during a visit to the Seattle Aquarium with my parents, I saw my first real, live octopus. It sat on all of its legs at the bottom of its tank, looking at me with its giant eyeballs.

Remembering his book, my dad told me, "Elli, this giant octopus lives here in Puget Sound. If you're on a boat or swimming, it will reach out with one of its legs, grab you with its suckers, and pull you under. Then it will crush you with its beak and eat you!" Naturally, that terrified me. Between Jaws and this giant octopus, I couldn't imagine a worse death.

My next real encounter with an octopus was when I was an insecure 14-year-old visiting Greece for the first time since I was two years old. While at the beach, I noticed an older man with a mask on his head and a spear gun at his feet. He was forcefully slamming a limp, flailing octopus against a rock. He held it up, spreading its body apart and allowing the sun to shine through its semi-transparent flesh before flinging it against the rock again.

A part of me felt like that salty, tenderized octopus being flung onto the rocks of my life with little control. The next time I saw the octopus, it was on the center of the table, dressed in olive oil and lemon.

Answering the Creative Call

I did not want to paint the octopus that stared at me through the orange and blue ink. I avoided the painting sitting on my easel for at least three weeks. But its voice did not grow quiet or cease speaking to me. It only got stronger and spoke louder. I clutched my yellow chair, knowing I could no longer avoid this and had to paint that octopus. I gave in.

Like the octopus flung against the rock, I was given over and surrendered to the will of the painting.

As I began adding washes and layers of spray paint, marigolds started to appear, popping through the spaces between the octopus' legs like a garden in bloom. I stopped resisting and allowed myself to follow the creative threads weaving themselves together before my eyes.

As the weeks passed and I worked on the octopus as it called to me, I sensed that the painting had a deep meaning and was meant for someone specific. I felt like this painting was being created to catapult someone into an exact path that would produce tremendous results for their destiny and life purpose. Each brushstroke and layer of color felt charged with momentum.

Discovering the Depth of My Subject

Although I had some inkling as to the meaning of the painting, it still felt fuzzy and elusive. Many followers on Instagram suggested that I watch My Octopus Teacher. Watching this gentle and beautiful documentary, I was taken by the incredible world of discovery that lies beneath the sea.

I was struck by the intelligence and awareness of the octopus and the connection it developed with the man narrating the documentary.

Aesthetically, I was entranced by watching the octopus move and crawl around the bottom of the ocean, each of its limbs grabbing little shells and objects it found interesting or needed as it traveled. All of its arms did something different with its own agenda, and very little seemed coordinated or synergistic.

Watching this octopus move reminded me of myself at times, moving through my day multitasking, with my mind split in too many directions.

Yet, when it hunted, every limb of the octopus synchronized, surging with energy as it jetted toward its prey or, when escaping from a shark, darted and vanished into the kelp forest, leaving behind a cloud of ink. Its movements were never disorganized but swift and precise.

As the credits rolled, I wiped tears from my eyes and vowed never to eat another octopus again. I will make it a policy on our Greek retreats that octopus will not be ordered. Knowing of its sentience, I could not bear the thought of eating this creature again.

Marigolds, Meaning, and Multitasking

I'm telling Dimitra and Jake about the movie and how they must watch it and how they will never want to to eat octopus again. Jake asks, "So, after watching the movie, what do you think your painting means?"

That question had plagued my heart for weeks. The pressure of not knowing and painting this octopus in its garden of marigolds under the sea boiled to the surface of my brain. I couldn't bear to answer, "I don't know."

Then, as if a strike of lightning had hit my skull and given form to every thought I have filed away concerning this painting, I began to speak the meaning. I could finally put words to all that swirled in my heart.

I started to tell Jake and Dimitra about a visit with our artist friends who we took jewelry classes from:

"Last week, when we went to DeLand for jewelry classes, I was talking to our instructor. She's passionate about all of her art and wants nothing more than to create all day long, but she's stuck in a job that pays the bills but drains her creative energy.

Over the weekend, she walked me through her creative projects: metal smithing, beading, her collections of eclectic objects for future use, her paintings, drawings, watercolors, design programs, and her 3D printer. I looked through her fabric designs and heard about all of her sewing projects.

Too Many Tentacles

As she shared her creativity with me, I couldn't help but see how we were so similar. I thought about my jewelry, fibers, embroidery, knitting, crocheting, felting, making purses and quilts, how I spun yarn and had closets and bins full of every creative pursuit. I was an octopus with too many minds, each limb exploring something different without a central intent.

I told the instructor that when I made the decision to only pursue what pertained to my destiny, I finally started getting traction. I decided I would only paint, write, and build my business. I would let everything else go. Like the octopus on the hunt, I would jet forward with all my energy gathered for one intent: to fulfill my destiny.

I told her that all of these other creative things seemed harmless but actually were like an invasive pest coming to steal my time and energy away from where it should be."

Then, a burst of realization hit me—I had found the meaning!

"Her garden was full of marigolds! When I saw them, I connected it to my painting but didn't understand how."

Jake said, "Well, do you know the purpose of marigolds in a garden? They keep pests away so nothing invasive can come and destroy what you are growing."

The Power of Purpose

I am utterly convinced this was the meaning of the mysterious marigolds all along. I could have not created this painting. I could have ignored it calling me to paint it. I would have missed out on this incredible experience.

Even worse, the collector who will own this piece would miss out on how it could speak to them about their destiny—encouraging them to focus and pursue their true calling vigorously within a protected garden of marigolds designed to keep distractions and destructive forces at bay.

This, of course, is only the beginning of the story for this octopus painting. The journey will continue once the collector is revealed and the painting begins its work on their walls, continuing to speak and inspire.

This piece is currently available and will be for sale at Milan Art Gallery’s Aloha Lahaina Show on August 9th in Sarasota, Florida. If you believe this painting was meant for you, click here to claim it before this weekend’s show!

If this octopus painting could speak to you, what do you think it would say about your path and purpose?