Artwork

When creating artwork, more often than not I attempt to put across a certain feel and more often than not, I get close but come up short. But every once in a blue moon it works the other way around. I finish a piece of art and upon finishing realize the work carries a thought or emotion I didn’t knowingly attempt to put into it.

Walking softly, not urgent, but knowing.
To move quietly but still be heard and seen because it matters that you are where you are.
To be present in your surroundings.
To hold onto the layers and textures of living.
Not making grand entrances or racing for an end goal.
It’s not about fancy, it’s not about fast but it is about moving.
And sometimes the important way to move is
subtle
gentle
quiet
and knowing.

If any picture can convey how I wish to exist while on this land this piece of artwork is the one right now. But this year I don’t know how to go about doing so. With the land in such a state of drought every move with the flock feels like a damaging one. We are urgent feeling about grass and moisture. I am more unknowing about it all than ever before. I wonder if the land just needs us to disappear so it may have time to adjust and if that is the case I feel pain for not being able to give that. Nothing about this is quiet to the mind and heart.

I know now that I was reaching to create a scene that would quiet my heart and still the racing thoughts of doubt. I needed to make this piece of artwork even though I felt little sense of that when I started out with it.

“Moving On”
28” x 12”
Made with wool, by hand.
I have not priced this piece yet. It’s going to hang nearby for the immediate future, then I’ll ready it for sale , perhaps frame it, and take it to the few trade shows I’ll be attending. It’s a lovely one to see in person.

We moved the ewes to a south pasture to pick at what greens come up there. The ewes stirred up dust as they travelled, a sign of how dry it is. Vaccinating the flock comes up next and shortly afterward the ewes will begin lambing. At the moment chores are light and we enjoy the lull by filling it with tasks that, for the most part, don’t directly involve sheep.

It looks like our entire wool clip will be distributed within province this year, a portion being used by myself, some sold to the new mill and some sold privately. In previous years the greater portion of our wool clip was delivered to a depot and then trucked eastward to the Canadian cooperative. From there wool is sold on the export market and makes its way to China and elsewhere. It’s a small accomplishment that our wool will be used within province this year and one I feel very, very satisfied with. I, of course, have many plans for the wool I will keep. Too many plans actually and I can recognize the need to pare down and focus or else I’ll lose my way.

Lately when I go out to pasture I notice there is an interesting shift in my gratitude for this flock. I have always admired the sheep and the prairie land they live off – admired them enough to relentlessly work toward staying away from the agriculture production trend of bigger and faster is better. Now there is a new level of gratitude whenever I look over the flock. Another level of admiration and wonder for the wool these animals grow. How that wool connects to a world of creativity, art, and artisans. Allen and I view this place as a whole, every part of it necessary for the other parts, and it seems the more we do that the deeper and more interwoven the whole becomes.

Winter Walkabout ~~ Josie (framed) ~~ and current work in progress. All made with wool, wet felted and needle felted.