For most of the past year I felt disoriented, lost, in a fog, in murky waters. Time was fluid - days, hours, weeks all seemed to have the same weight, density and duration. I took up cooking and gardening like I was responsible for feeding a small village. I cleaned and organized long overdue places at home like closets and the basement. I wove simple linen cloths for drying dishes and rag rugs from discarded clothing. I found solace in simplicity and in the ordinary. These actions and chores gave me a sense of purpose and I felt like I was contributing to a greater good.
And I went outside. I walked miles. Going out into the woods or along the shore line, gazing up at the birds and watching the clouds move overhead gave me grounding. Watching a hawk raise her brood in a tree above my studio gave me hope. There was no pandemic in the woods or in the ocean. There were no politics on the moon or heavens above. The wind and sun know nothing of racial or religious divide. Being close to Nature was not only an escape but medicine.
And yet I want to stay informed and be engaged with the world. So I watched the news. Politics, the election, covid statistics, the racial divide, climate change and civil unrest made me anxious. The immensity of these issues colliding together felt like the building pressure of an imminent volcanic eruption. This unease created a compression in my body and my spirit…like a tourniquet was tightening around my chest.
I felt stuck between wanting to stay informed and longing for relief from this physical constriction. I couldn’t gain perspective. I yearned to tether myself to the hawk’s feet, to fly above all this earthly chaos, to gain some insight. I ached to be free of this narrowing feeling.
Making art has always been my pathway to process these larger than life issues. I kept thinking – what can I make of this? But this past year felt so much larger than anything I have ever experienced. I just couldn’t focus or create a meaningful community art project, something that might help me and others find a way out of these dark and constricting times.
So I just kept making the art that appeared to me in dreams, on long walks or winter x-skiing.
I wove long horizontal blues to mimic the ocean horizon. I wove a sunrise inspired by a Rumi poem about unconditional love. I wove trees with moonscapes and trees with bodies buried deep below, tangled among the roots. I wove a body floating in a sea of blue and one in a field of dark orange. I embroidered many flocks of birds and a galaxy of stars.
And now…one year since we stepped into this drama-filled time ….. I am untangling the past year of living and art making. I am beginning to understand what has been calling to be me.
In seeking relief from this this narrow, constricted perspective, I long for a wider perception and expansive view. Not just a wider vision in the physical realm – but a viewpoint that illustrates a different way of looking at our world. A bigger picture or a wider view that might lift us from the minutia and constrictions of politics, the pandemic and socio/economic divisions.
Nature reigns in this expansive place. The ever-present song birds, the trees that reach to the firmament, the sprawling sky, the deep earth, the endless ocean, the many galaxies of stars and the wisdom of the human body reside in this spacious realm.
I show up in this place of unlimited dreams and unconditional love.
I look, listen and make art.
Work in process May 2021. Hand woven, indigo dyed, linen and rayon.