Do you ever branch out into other styles?

Recently I’ve been reading Joseph Campbell, an author I usually don’t like, but whose presentation of Eastern myth is quite inspiring.

Altmagic readers might enjoy this part:

The Indian artist is a sort of yogi… After he has learned the physical techniques, the manual techniques of his craft… he must meditate in order to bring before his own spirit, his own inner eye, the vision of the deity whom he is to render…

The artist proposing to depict a certain divinity—let us say Viṣṇu—must first study all the texts. Of course, he knows them already from his apprenticeship, but he reviews them to learn what precisely the traits, the signs and symbology of this deity are. Then he must compose his mind and pronounce in his spirit the deity’s seed syllable; that is to say he must pronounce the sound that is the verbal counterpart of the deity’s image. Then, if he has the fortune to receive the grace of the god’s manifestation, the deity will appear in his mind in his radiant form and this then is the model. At their best, the works of Indian art are literal renditions of visions, and they have this visionary, dreamlike quality as well as a wonderful vigor and power in physical strength.

—Myths of Light, Joseph Campbell,  2003, p 81-82

I like how reading something I thought I would dislike can actually lead to great discoveries.

It’s fun to study different approaches to mystical artwork, because it only makes my own art stronger. In this I found striking parallels to the process I used to make the Conjurations of Lugh and Brighid. I would never say what I do is the same. But the power of the spoken word to conjure the presence of the deity, the vivid apparition that’s in my mind’s eye, not my two eyes—these are part of my process.

If you’re an artist, do visions ever enter into what you do? Can a vision serve as a “model” for your art, or are they too ephemeral?

If you’re not an artist, and you’ve experienced visions—have you ever thought of drawing them?