Listening to the Mother

6th Installation of 12

November 21, 2022- December 20, 2022

Imprint

Imprint

the 6th installation of the ‘Listening to the Mother’ project

Wandering around the forest in late November and early December is not like a wander in June! I was dealing with falling temperatures, bulky mitts, hail, snow and shorter and shorter hours of light…so I had to adapt. This has been one of the big themes I’ve encountered over the last 6 months working on this land art project.

I’m learning and relearning that there is always a way forward, it just may not look like the singular view you’ve decided will unfold. I take my lessons from Mother Nature. There is constant adaptation, ever present opportunities and unending surprises that both frustrate your progress and show you new ways to explore.

With this in mind and heart, I could see with each snowflake that gathered in the leaves that it was time to bring some elements and materials home with me.
I understood that these few months would be imprinted with different experiences than the previous pieces.

I found a piece of root or branch…something enticing in the curve and whorls of time stripes that poked out of the forest floor. I tripped on it. Not that this is unusual, but something made me look down, then bend down and wipe some of the years and years of fallen leaves and spruce needles out of the way to get a closer look at the beautiful curve. I wondered what it would be like to work with such a big and ancient piece of wood. Too bad, I thought, that it was well entrenched in the humus and depths of time under a large red cedar. I gave the end bit a tug just to see how impossible it would be.

And it shifted.

In fact it seemed to meet my pull with a push away from its underground cacoon. As I pulled it up sandy soil below the rich humus fell away and revealed its true shape, the circle in the midsection and the elegant reaching ends. I wondered if I could even fit it in my car, still ready for the impossibility to come into play. Yet…it fit.

As I made my way home with this gigantic piece of forest, my car was filled with rich fragrances of soil and sky, time and life. It felt very much like I had a companion in the car with me, and a co creator to work with through a dark winter month in my studio at home.

The final piece returned to the forest at the end of 2022, made of the found piece of wood, recycled paper, flour and water paste. This work and my practice is grounded (pardon the pun) in working with nature and my contributions cannot bring damaging, invasive and/or non decomposing elements into the forest. I was able to experiment with a few materials until I found this combination that was both workable for the vision I had and would not have any detrimental effects on the forest once it decomposed.

The paper I used was saved recycled papers from my studio. The flour and water paste was super simple but really great in allowing the papers and the wood to become something new together.

As I worked toward the ending of the piece I was struck by the ancient story this piece of wood could tell. I thought of the papers, once trees themselves, some with bits of poetry and even a letter to myself on parts of them, became integrated into a new story. I began to see how each element, each story and each experience was imprinted not only in how I created but also into the piece itself. I saw how the piece would imprint onto the forest, regardless of how I took care not to impose my world onto the wild world I was working with.

I began to think of all the imprints of my own life. All the chapters and little bits of interactions that shaped me into who and how I am today. I thought of all my ancestors, most of whom I did not even know their names, yet they have shaped me. Somehow. Each decision they made somehow imprinted on my life.

I thought of the imprints I am making on my descendants and even people I have no biological connection with. As my mind swirled with the cosmic possibilities, I took a few breaths, lay my hands on the large piece of wood and paper at my side and connected to the flow that was life rather than the huge possibilities that were simply too big for me. For now anyway.

My fingers traced the bumps and smooth valleys of the paper, that was once from the trees. This paper a product then imprinted with my words from some sad day a year ago, then to the piece of wood itself that was buried deep in the earth. Buried except for the curve that had withstood the elements of time long enough to become a polished tripping point that imprinted my day when I was wondering what I would do during this cold month of creating on this year long project.