Artwork

A Prairie Place Sans Social Media

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.

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A Body of Work

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.

 

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The White Dog

[vc_row][vc_column][vc_custom_heading text=”The moment life gets busier than usual keeping up with this blog always takes a back seat. And once a thing lands in the back seat I tend to go a long time before remembering that I stowed something there awhile back. ” font_container=”tag:p|font_size:18|text_align:left” use_theme_fonts=”yes”][vc_custom_heading text=”We are finally seeing the first signs of Spring. My last blog post was back in the February, right in the midst of winter. Several weeks later and the landscape is still under full cover of snow.” font_container=”tag:p|font_size:18|text_align:left” use_theme_fonts=”yes”][vc_custom_heading text=”Shearing of the sheep took place a couple days ago and since then we’ve been turning the ewes out to feed in the day but bringing them in overnight on account of freezing temperatures. We had a beautiful turnout of people to help out on shearing day even with shearing taking place on Easter weekend. Shearing is our one big work-bee event and I am always amazed and grateful that people come out and help. Our shearing day is much shorter than it used to be on account of fewer sheep, but it is still a pretty hefty day of work and many hands certainly make it a lighter day. ” font_container=”tag:p|font_size:18|text_align:left” use_theme_fonts=”yes”][vc_custom_heading text=”On account of a long winter, April marks the six month of feeding hay to the sheep. I have to wonder about the sensibility of keeping livestock on the northern prairie. Surely winters like this give merit to the idea of community managed livestock herds migrating south for winter, following the grass, and coming back north as it warms up. ” font_container=”tag:p|font_size:18|text_align:left” use_theme_fonts=”yes”][vc_single_image image=”3088″ img_size=”large” alignment=”center”][vc_custom_heading text=”I continue to draw, or maybe it’s that drawing continues to compel me to show up for it. Either way is good. Light colored sheep, white dogs, black and white magpies, they are all tough subjects to draw but when facing an empty white page with a stick of black charcoal in my hand, drawing the white guardian dog feels close to impossible every time. I know these dogs well, I live and breathe with them and part of the difficulty is the fear of not being able to do these dogs justice through drawing them.
When a drawing does pan out it feels a bit like the arrival of a season you’ve been long waiting for. ” font_container=”tag:p|font_size:18|text_align:left” use_theme_fonts=”yes”][/vc_column][/vc_row]

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