|
CURRENT EXHIBIT
The impact that surrounds us. Riverview Gallery - Phipps Center for the Arts, Hudson WI *Searching for the wolf mouse. / Oil on wood Madonna of the wide-eyed babes. / Oil on paper *Guard against harm. / Oil on wood The bonds of motherhood. / Mixed media and oil on paper *Maybe I’ll just stay a while. / Oil on wood Protection / Oil on wood Comfort / Oil on wood *“I seem to be shedding my own darkness.” / Oil on paper Putting their future on your shoulders. / Mixed media and oil on canvas Connections / Oil on paper You get what you give. / Mixed media and oil on wood *The beauty we create. / Oil on paper What we don't see from the surface. / Mixed media and oil on paper Kelp forest / Oil on wood Hide me in the earth. / Oil on wood * See descriptions to right. |
Searching for the wolf mouse.
Our family took our first trip to the Saguaro Forest in Arizona and were mesmerized by all the plant and animal life. We were so excited and amazed by the beauty that was so different from the forests of Minnesota. We learned about the carnivorous Wolf Mouse (grasshopper mouse) that would howl. We went on a night hike to try to see or hear it, with no luck. Guard against harm. In response to protections for people with uteri becoming non-existent, I began to look into natural protections. Junipers have long been associated with women’s health–the berries used to aid in labor and abortion. They are seen as a tree of cleansing and protection. Poison ivy, also referred to as sister ivy, sets boundaries and guards against negative and harmful influences. She demands us to be aware. Maybe I’ll just stay a while. Inspired by a decomposing log in the woods, covered in mosses, lichen and fungi. How would it feel to slow down, lie down, let the earth blanket you? Remind ourselves that we are part of the ecosystems we rely on. "I seem to be shedding my own darkness." [Created for Red Wing Poet Artist Collaboration exhibit.] Coneflowers by Rob Hardy I love the prairie at this time of evening when the sun lies down in the grass, and the yellow coneflowers hold the light as if committing it to memory. The air quickens with the flight of dragonflies. Crows pass overhead clamorous toward their evening roost, darkness gathering in the treetops before it descends. On the prairie everything is light. The flowers emit bees like photons. Shadows are longest at the beginning and the close of the day. I seem to be shedding my own darkness. My body feels less encumbered by death. As a transplant to the midwest and the prairies, coneflowers were one of the first flowers to greet me to my new home. As described in the poem that inspired this piece, “the yellow coneflowers hold the light / as if committing it to memory.” When I come across them, I can feel that warmth they hold, that they pass along, just like an embrace from an old friend. The beauty we create. Adorned with bleached coral and a lifeless octopus, this piece speaks to our impacts on the ocean. A place full of life, slowly losing its ability to survive. |