Artwork

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.

A Body of Work

Artwork / September 14, 2023 / By

After completion of the felted flock I dove into making a steady stream of unassuming charcoal drawings. I felt captivated by the simplicity and obsessed with keeping the realism while not fussing about detail.

So many things in these pieces made sense at the time of making them. the subtlety of ewes as they cross the prairie that is matched by some strokes of charcoal on a muted background. The easy nature of sheep and dogs matched by the ease of spreading charcoal on a page. That charcoal can be so messy and still have flow matching how a flock move can be messy and yet have flow. The flow of our days when we drop complications and let nature, or the art medium, work for us. Individuals moving as one whole because each individual is whole matching a desire to create a body of work stemming from that position of feeling whole. That it can be enough to have a few sticks of charcoal and some paper at hand, nothing more complicated than that. How the deep blacks of charcoal can take over when they go unchecked; the risk of going too far with simplifying, or complicating, one’s life. How messy things can become before they sort themselves out. A continual assessment of when enough is enough.

At the core of this pull to work with such a basic, natural medium is a similar aim for day to day life. To pull out the realism I want to have in my life, to zero in on the dream and apply the layers needed. To do the very challenging work of letting go of details and unnecessary complications. To reach for a primary existence while not letting the flat blacks of nothingness take over.

A couple days ago I went through the storage box where the majority of my drawings land when they are finished. Sheep drawings, dog portraits, magpie drawings… I love the collection that is there. The surprise realization of a body of work is immeasurable. It’s very much like the surprise realization I get when I look over the body of work that is this flock of sheep and its accompanying working dogs.