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Artwork at Work

Artwork / June 29, 2024 / By

A prairie dweller, a keeper of sheep, a devoted fan of working dogs, an artist, and a wanna be writer….  I attempt at least one of these things on any given day, and occasionally I manage to be all of them.

The longer I practice creating the more difficult it is for me to come up with any deep philosophical artist statement that rings true. I make repeated attempts to capture prairie life and moments with the animals around me and put them onto paper or felt them into being with wool, and once in awhile succeed.

I entered a handful of those successes into an adjudicated art show at the local gallery this past May where they received the equivalent of honorable mention, worthy of showing. What is more interesting though is the critique received. The criticism was precisely on point with the hiccups I felt when making each piece. My hiccups are felt as a drop in the gut, short and quick, and easily missed if not paying attention. At the time of making I felt the hiccup but did not recognize a solution because I couldn’t quite nail down what the hiccup was in the piece, or I didn’t want to, – I needed to get pieces done in time. I negated the nudge.

I’ve come to thoroughly enjoy adjudicated art shows for the critique.  Dissecting the art is a reminder of how meaning is conveyed, or how it misses the mark, and that both inklings pass across the ether to complete strangers. It is a marvel to watch artwork at work in this way. It reminds me of all the times this place, this landscape of our farm and flock, has had an affect on people who visited it. It is affirmation of the importance of artwork in our lives.

Paint what you love is the oft given advice and I have taken that to heart. My artwork and my livelihood are closely aligned. Writing, drawing and felting are not work per se; certainly not the work that the real flock is. Instead these pursuits are reason and purpose to help me face and fulfill each day in this place that is plump with nature but empty of people, empty of response to the work. Even on the days when every creative attempt woefully misses the mark there is satisfaction of having shown up to try again; because trying is reaching for the ether itself and aiming to exist there.

A Prairie Place Sans Social Media

Artwork, Musing, Prairie / June 26, 2024 / By

I determined some time ago that cell phones do not jive with this reclusive prairie space and there is very, very seldom a valid reason to take mine along on my daily walks. With no phone at hand, social media does not exist while in this prairie space either. I began to notice how exquisite not scrolling on a screen felt. This noticing would often be followed by rounds of internal questioning about why social media was in my life if its absence felt so good.

two dogs on prairie trail

One morning, well over a year ago, I decided to not post on instagram that day. I did the same thing the next day, and the next. I had already been down a rabbit hole of researching the impact of social media as the current models are set up, and I was angry at myself for succumbing to the habit. But after days of not posting I figured I had made a mistake. I was lost, I was ‘disconnected’. I was feeling very much left out, particularly as an artist trying to find my way through marketing. But each day as I walked the dogs out on the prairie I would feel the ‘rightfulness’ of having no social media concerns there. I hung onto that feeling of rightfulness and stuck by my decision to not post. I picked up a physical paper book to distract myself and discovered just how short my ability to focus was, and how badly I missed reading books. After a few weeks I hardly missed IG but what stood out stronger than ever was the continual push by the rest of the world to prove one’s validity by being on social. This has not ceased at all.

I had plans to replace posting on IG with diving deeper into other online avenues, like this blog, but I ended up walking away from all of it. I stopped writing my newsletter regularly, I nearly stopped posting to the blog, and there have been no posts to pinterest in forever. I had no clue what this state of emptying out was about, although in hindsight, I think it was a means of debriefing where I was going and what I was still interested in doing. Unexpectedly, that debrief took many months.

Without social media and with a lot less screen time in everyday life, I have long focus back and I have additional time to spend in my studio. A corner of the kitchen counter has become the landing place for any recently acquired books, awaiting a read. Falling in love with reading again, lead to encouragement for writing again. I have joined a local writers group; where meetings with people who are physically and mentally present take place, sans phones. And when I am in my studio, instead of logging on to an app I log-in to my sketch book, a habit that has done more for my drawing skills than any other. I’m now dabbling in watercolor painting. I’ve been more creative in the last year than in the past three. No video reel has been made to document any of it and it will not see the light of day on social media platforms. But the local community is seeing the best parts of it, and that feels far less fraudulent.

Felted wool artwork
‘In Companionable Silence’ / Felted wool artwork

Fifteen months later I’m still opting for digital minimalism in my life, or to put it another way, applying the approach I use on the land to being online. One must always consider the whole, not just the parts. When and if the time comes for dipping a toe back into social media, I’ll know what to watch for, I’ll know that my creative self will not break when I walk out on the rat race and take the scenic route.

Sun Soaked Pasture Lambs

Sheep / May 28, 2024 / By

I slip the small backpack onto my shoulders and pick up the crook from the back of the ranger. A short distance away is a set of twin lambs and their momma. There is plenty of warmth in the sunshine this morning and the lambs are soaking it up.

With my approach Momma realizes something is amiss and gurgles to her babies. They are full bellied, sun soaked, and asleep. They are babes and do not yet recognize the urgency as Momma does. They stay where they are. I regret that I am going to be one of their lessons on wariness. Moving smoothly I step up to the lambs, kneel and place a hand on each. No quick sprint and the shepherds crook is not even needed this time. Sleepy, sun soaked lambs are the easiest to catch and one of my favourite perks of lambing time. The ewe will disagree but I take these easy moments where and when I get them, and am glad for them.

When I am through with the lambs I return them to the distraught ewe. She does a fast sniff inspection of her lambs while backing away. The spray mark applied to the lambs smears the low curve of her belly when one of the babes makes a dive for the udder. Full as they are, a little bit of milk still soothes them from the trauma of being caught. The ewe does another fast check to be sure that she has both lambs and then trots off, urgent to get her lambs a safe distance away.

The scene around the pasture is a busy one. At first glance you can’t be sure who belongs to who. Heck, even on second, third and fourth look you can’t be certain. Ewes and lambs are beginning to make their way to the shade of the trees. A guardian dog is across the way; following the ewes lead, she is also making her way toward the trees. I carry on with checking for lambs while animals are still spread out. My schedule is dictated by their activity and once the animals settle in the trees I won’t bother them on account of the group being in closer quarters. When they settle in the trees disturbing one means disturbing all and it’s not worth it. When the animals settle in the trees is when I take my leave.