2019 brought with it an award for best landscape design from Maine Homes by Downeast Magazine. They awarded first place for reader landscaping for my third year garden at the SEED Barn. They say that it takes three years to establish a garden from seed in Maine, so I was happy to have initiated this process with this bit of recognition. Every year, we grow out an assortment of new native varieties to plant as pollinator pathways and native foodways. As the plants grow into maturity, I look into what particular wildlife the plants support and gather open source photographs, from which I create drawings as studies. Observational drawing is one of the best ways to gain understanding of form, and through exploring the relationships of forms, to become familiar with the functions that are the basis of systems. While these open source images are quickly becoming essential to my own work, I have also begun gathering collections of the images to distribute to educational programs so that students may begin forming their own knowledge of the systems at work.
When I first returned to Colorado from living in Hawai’i, I had a bad case of island fever and felt compelled to drive through the wide open landscape of the southwest over the course of a couple of weeks. I wanted to see contemporary art in Marfa and visit Big Bend while in bloom. So I set my sights on western Texas through an area that is still not considered ‘settled’ as defined by era of western expansion. From other road trips through the area, I remembered that they do not pick up roadkill, but instead let them slowly desiccate in the dry climate. My project en route was to photograph these cadavers as a poignant reflection on the impacts of mobilities. Later in Denver, I created a foundational texture by driving over large pieces of strathmore paper with my truck to print the treads with fresh tar they had recently laid in my back alley. Incorporating this unconventional printmaking technique allowed for a literal representation of circumstance. Woven into the tracks, I created pencil drawings as portraits of the life lost on the road. It was difficult emotionally for me because I love animals. But I felt that the it was important to convey this loss and put a lot of love into the lines as they were laid. I finished this series for an exhibition on extinction for the Denver Botanic Gardens.
During a visit to Cuba in the winter of 2000, we had the opportunity to partake in a blessing performed by a Santaria Priest, just outside of Havana. We witnessed the sacrifice of a pure white chicken, the blood of which added to the layers caked upon his shrines, which added a deeply visceral quality to the forms sculpted by use over many years. The room was dark, lit only by a couple of small windows and candles that were nestled into the organic forms of the shrines. The practice largely grew from African traditions brought to the island during the forced migration of slaves. The materials that were used could be seen as common, yet they were imbued with significant symbolism which allowed them to be used as tools for prayer during these dynamic rituals. Chains represented enslavement and rusted railroad spikes carried the sleek energy of the rail as a passageway or path down which we may release our energy in the world. Tree branches were incorporated as representations of the transfer of energy between earth and sky. Home made dolls incorporated a human element into the mix. Eggs were incorporated within the act of the ritual as a powerful symbol of regeneration. Feathers used as symbols for freedom. It took many years for the experience to settle. Ultimately I created a series of mixed media works on paper integrating stone lithography, collage, rust stains and drawing with oil pastel, spraypaint, chalk and pencils. The largely abstract works are intended to capture the feeling of the space, and the shifting, almost swirling energy produced by the act of the ritual, which culminated in the representations of the shrines as fragmented. It’s as if the energy imbued in the symbols that made up the shrine were breaking apart to lend their energy to the acts performed within this space.