October 15, 2024-April 11, 2025
Northern Arizona University’s Clara M. Lovett Art Museum is pleased to announce a juried two-dimensional exhibition to be presented at the Clara M. Lovett Art Museum in the fall of 2024. The exhibition at the Clara M. Lovett Art Museum will present new works conceived within the conceptual categories of identity, community, and geography within the broader theme of a sense of place. The Museum invited submissions exploring the many layers of our connection to physical past, present, and future spaces, as well as how place impacts community collective identity and personal concepts of identity (or the lack thereof) in relation to the Colorado Plateau through painting, printmaking, and/or photography.
“To be at all—to exist in any way—is to be somewhere, and to be somewhere is to be in some kind of place. Place is as requisite as the air we breathe, the ground on which we stand, the bodies we have. We are surrounded by places. We walk over and through them. We live in places, relate to others in them, die in them. Nothing we do is unplaced. How could it be otherwise?” Edward S. Casey, The Fate of Place
Place is both material and immaterial, tangible and intangible, and marked by boundaries that can be real or imagined or layers of borders from the geographical to the cultural. Our relationship with the land we live on shapes our understanding of the world and creates a sense of community with those we share it with. Our collective living gives us a sense of place as a space filled with meaning. On the Colorado Plateau, the geography dictates much of how we live, from the snow in our mountains to the wildfires that ravage our landscape. Place is, however, is more than our physical connection to the earth but also the meaning we ascribe to it as part of our individual and community identities. Together, we turn our lived space into a particular place. Approaches to this theme should focus on one of the following within the geography of the Colorado Plateau (which includes parts of Arizona, Utah, Colorado, and New Mexico and converges at the four corners of these states) and will creatively explore our relationship to the geography and environment, individual experiences of place historically or in the present or imagining place in the future in the region, reflect on the cultural or physical borders and boundaries that have shaped collective and personal identities, or examine aspects of cultural, political, economic, environmental, or other forms of displacement.
Congratulations to the following artists selected to participate:
Brandin Barón Leaving Fort Defiance Accordion Closed
From 2017-19, I traveled extensively throughout the Four Corners region while conducting field research on the project that would become my artwork series entitled I Wanna B a Cowboy:https://www.brandinbaron.com/index#/i-wanna-b-a-cowboy-201819
My art-making process was guided by previous fine artists, photographers, filmmakers, craftsmen, and designers who documented their perceptions towards the American Southwest. As the title of this series suggests, my artworks are rooted in the concept of “playing cowboy”, and the subsequent impact upon “outsiders” who navigate personal relationships to these historical tropes in order to adjust to the shifting cultural norms of this highly contested space. Inspired by Southwestern avatars directly taken from fine art reproductions, cinematic publicity stills, playing cards, action figurines, animal sculptures, and dolls, I have directly referenced these objects in order to draw attention to the problematic cultural, political and sociological tropes that they have additionally generated.
As part of my travels, I accidently stumbled upon Fort Defiance en route to Canyon de Chelly. I roamed the grounds, and took a few photographs of the environmental landscapes. As I was departing, I felt a strange energy, but chalked it up to travel exhaustion. Months later, when analyzing the photographs and drawings from my trip, I noticed a strange pink abstract glow emitting from the landscapes of my photographs of the mountains around Fort Defiance that appeared to be a mass of heads and arms. Intrigued, I read more about the history of Fort Defiance, and was shocked to learn:
Fort Defiance was established on September 18, 1851, by Colonel Edwin V. Sumner to create a military presence in what was named “Navajo or Diné” territory. It was built on valuable grazing land that the federal government then prohibited the Navajo from using. The fortification experienced intense fighting, with attacks in 1856 and 1860. At the onset of the American Civil War (1861), the US Army abandoned Fort Defiance. Continued Navajo raids in the area led Brigadier General James H. Carleton to send Kit Carson to impose order. The fort was reestablished as Fort Canby in 1863 as a base for Carson’s operations against the Navajo. General Carleton’s “solution” was brutal: thousands of starving Navajo were directed to “the Long Walk”, a forced march of 450 miles through oppressive environmental conditions, ending in their internment at Fort Sumner, New Mexico. In 1864, Fort Defiance was again abandoned and subsequently was burned by Navajo who had avoided the Long Walk.
In 2024, I returned to the mysteries of my encounter with Fort Defiance. Leaving Fort Defiance is a fusion of my pink abstract photos combined with digital illustrations of archival photos of Dine/Navajo people of the 1800s. The artwork transcribes the commencement of the events that led to so much suffering for the original inhabitants and transplanted refugees who were part of the relocation programs targeted at the native populations of America.
Leaving Fort Defiance Accordion Closed
From 2017-19, I traveled extensively throughout the Four Corners region while conducting field research on the project that would become my artwork series entitled I Wanna B a Cowboy:https://www.brandinbaron.com/index#/i-wanna-b-a-cowboy-201819
My art-making process was guided by previous fine artists, photographers, filmmakers, craftsmen, and designers who documented their perceptions towards the American Southwest. As the title of this series suggests, my artworks are rooted in the concept of “playing cowboy”, and the subsequent impact upon “outsiders” who navigate personal relationships to these historical tropes in order to adjust to the shifting cultural norms of this highly contested space. Inspired by Southwestern avatars directly taken from fine art reproductions, cinematic publicity stills, playing cards, action figurines, animal sculptures, and dolls, I have directly referenced these objects in order to draw attention to the problematic cultural, political and sociological tropes that they have additionally generated.
As part of my travels, I accidently stumbled upon Fort Defiance en route to Canyon de Chelly. I roamed the grounds, and took a few photographs of the environmental landscapes. As I was departing, I felt a strange energy, but chalked it up to travel exhaustion. Months later, when analyzing the photographs and drawings from my trip, I noticed a strange pink abstract glow emitting from the landscapes of my photographs of the mountains around Fort Defiance that appeared to be a mass of heads and arms. Intrigued, I read more about the history of Fort Defiance, and was shocked to learn:
Fort Defiance was established on September 18, 1851, by Colonel Edwin V. Sumner to create a military presence in what was named “Navajo or Diné” territory. It was built on valuable grazing land that the federal government then prohibited the Navajo from using. The fortification experienced intense fighting, with attacks in 1856 and 1860. At the onset of the American Civil War (1861), the US Army abandoned Fort Defiance. Continued Navajo raids in the area led Brigadier General James H. Carleton to send Kit Carson to impose order. The fort was reestablished as Fort Canby in 1863 as a base for Carson’s operations against the Navajo. General Carleton’s “solution” was brutal: thousands of starving Navajo were directed to “the Long Walk”, a forced march of 450 miles through oppressive environmental conditions, ending in their internment at Fort Sumner, New Mexico. In 1864, Fort Defiance was again abandoned and subsequently was burned by Navajo who had avoided the Long Walk.
In 2024, I returned to the mysteries of my encounter with Fort Defiance. Leaving Fort Defiance is a fusion of my pink abstract photos combined with digital illustrations of archival photos of Dine/Navajo people of the 1800s. The artwork transcribes the commencement of the events that led to so much suffering for the original inhabitants and transplanted refugees who were part of the relocation programs targeted at the native populations of America.
Melanie E. Brewster Desert Glitch Accordion Closed
Desert Glitch examines nature worship in the Anthropocene, including plant-human interactions and the desire to ‘rewild’ or be fully consumed by wilderness. Playing with the idea of ‘spiritual drag’ by using irreverent, over-the-top methods, I explore the effort it takes to connect to the natural world.
Through this lens, I build strangely magical worlds where it is not clear what transformations have occurred to the landscape, or why. I immerse viewers in uncertain moments and ambiguous borderlands: liminal spaces that allow us to discover possibilities for unconventional methods of naturism.
Desert Glitch Accordion Closed
Desert Glitch examines nature worship in the Anthropocene, including plant-human interactions and the desire to ‘rewild’ or be fully consumed by wilderness. Playing with the idea of ‘spiritual drag’ by using irreverent, over-the-top methods, I explore the effort it takes to connect to the natural world.
Through this lens, I build strangely magical worlds where it is not clear what transformations have occurred to the landscape, or why. I immerse viewers in uncertain moments and ambiguous borderlands: liminal spaces that allow us to discover possibilities for unconventional methods of naturism.
Natalie Christensen
Barbara F. Dickinson
Jessica Downs Vital Origins and Signs of Life Accordion Closed
My work is rooted in the observation of landscapes, both metaphorical and physical, internal and external, as well as the ecopsychological connection between identity and environment. Whether closely examining living organisms like root systems and trees, studying the topographies of rock formations, or reconstructing internal structures of the body, I combine these forms into abstract images that are both foreign and familiar, conveying the vast range of thought and emotion within the human experience. In investigating this human-nature connection, my work reflects these ideas through the creation of multifaceted abstract landscapes and psychological spaces. The close examination of natural materials and patterns experienced in nature allow me to form connections between environment and self, often causing natural forms to transition from external imagery to the internal topographies of the body. Utilizing multiple mediums like painting, drawing, printmaking, and digital collage, carefully rendered contours of forms and the use of colors found in nature are both observed and intuitive, built using transparent layers that are constantly added and subtracted, as a way to describe the constant evolution of nature and the search for the understanding of its connection and influence on the human psyche.
I am interested in the liminal space between observation and introspection as a means of creating a repository for experiences, feelings, memories, and exploration that elicits an emotional response, seeking to expand on the perception of self and foster a healthier relationship between humans and nature that ultimately promotes overall health and economic sustainability.
Vital Origins and Signs of Life Accordion Closed
My work is rooted in the observation of landscapes, both metaphorical and physical, internal and external, as well as the ecopsychological connection between identity and environment. Whether closely examining living organisms like root systems and trees, studying the topographies of rock formations, or reconstructing internal structures of the body, I combine these forms into abstract images that are both foreign and familiar, conveying the vast range of thought and emotion within the human experience. In investigating this human-nature connection, my work reflects these ideas through the creation of multifaceted abstract landscapes and psychological spaces. The close examination of natural materials and patterns experienced in nature allow me to form connections between environment and self, often causing natural forms to transition from external imagery to the internal topographies of the body. Utilizing multiple mediums like painting, drawing, printmaking, and digital collage, carefully rendered contours of forms and the use of colors found in nature are both observed and intuitive, built using transparent layers that are constantly added and subtracted, as a way to describe the constant evolution of nature and the search for the understanding of its connection and influence on the human psyche.
I am interested in the liminal space between observation and introspection as a means of creating a repository for experiences, feelings, memories, and exploration that elicits an emotional response, seeking to expand on the perception of self and foster a healthier relationship between humans and nature that ultimately promotes overall health and economic sustainability.
Matt Drissell Suffers a Bad Rep, Shorter and Stouter, Dies After, and Flowers on the Flowering Accordion Closed
These works encapsulate my recent experiences, paintings that are rooted in place.
Two years ago, my family and I moved from the Midwest. Our home was in Sioux Center, Iowa, in one of the leading industrial agricultural counties in the United States. There, 97% of the landscape is farmland, dominated by corn, soybeans, and animals – 8 million chickens, 1 million hogs, and 400,000 cows.
A move to the Southwest has then brought a dramatic shift to that sense of place.
Now at home in Silver City, New Mexico, the Gila National Forest and Wilderness blankets us with over 3 million acres of expansive ranges, hills, and mountains. As my family and I wander around these environs, we are delighted by new and complex encounters – a Cane Cholla or Rufous Hummingbird – encounters in this case, along the Gila National Forest – Little Walnut’s Dragon Trail.
These paintings then suggest a growing awareness of the Southwest’s striking intricacies.
Suffers a Bad Rep, Shorter and Stouter, Dies After, and Flowers on the Flowering Accordion Closed
These works encapsulate my recent experiences, paintings that are rooted in place.
Two years ago, my family and I moved from the Midwest. Our home was in Sioux Center, Iowa, in one of the leading industrial agricultural counties in the United States. There, 97% of the landscape is farmland, dominated by corn, soybeans, and animals – 8 million chickens, 1 million hogs, and 400,000 cows.
A move to the Southwest has then brought a dramatic shift to that sense of place.
Now at home in Silver City, New Mexico, the Gila National Forest and Wilderness blankets us with over 3 million acres of expansive ranges, hills, and mountains. As my family and I wander around these environs, we are delighted by new and complex encounters – a Cane Cholla or Rufous Hummingbird – encounters in this case, along the Gila National Forest – Little Walnut’s Dragon Trail.
These paintings then suggest a growing awareness of the Southwest’s striking intricacies.
Irwin Freeman Fresco (Relic From San Juan Drying) Accordion Closed
Such receding waterways to Lake Powell as the Colorado and San Juan expose ossified artifacts. Disparate eras, cultures, sustenance practices are as- yet untranslated in the surface detail even as the bottom edge recognizably traces the river’s contour.
Fresco (Relic From San Juan Drying) Accordion Closed
Such receding waterways to Lake Powell as the Colorado and San Juan expose ossified artifacts. Disparate eras, cultures, sustenance practices are as- yet untranslated in the surface detail even as the bottom edge recognizably traces the river’s contour.
Pato J. Hebert
Tony James Holmquist
Jane Homan Dry Creek III Accordion Closed
The rocky terrain of this oil painting shows the delicate use of burnt sienna and subtle
use of lavender in the terrain. The technique used shows the passage of time and
immense erosion of the land. One can’t help the feeling of being alone and without care
and complete solitude. The stories are slowly unfolding as the eye works its way around
the canvas.
The sky has developed into a spectacular sense of a storm is on the way. The swirling
clouds are painted in ultramarine blue, with pink, and gray to balance out the white. The
Earth is thirsty for the rain. The style of the clouds are very ethereal and bring a
dramatic effect to the painting. One can’t help but stare, pause and appreciate the
vastness of the world.
Dry Creek III Accordion Closed
The rocky terrain of this oil painting shows the delicate use of burnt sienna and subtle
use of lavender in the terrain. The technique used shows the passage of time and
immense erosion of the land. One can’t help the feeling of being alone and without care
and complete solitude. The stories are slowly unfolding as the eye works its way around
the canvas.
The sky has developed into a spectacular sense of a storm is on the way. The swirling
clouds are painted in ultramarine blue, with pink, and gray to balance out the white. The
Earth is thirsty for the rain. The style of the clouds are very ethereal and bring a
dramatic effect to the painting. One can’t help but stare, pause and appreciate the
vastness of the world.
Megan Beth Johnson
Lynn Haygood Lee Verde River Valley to the Mogollon Rim Accordion Closed
I am a contemporary painter living and working in Sedona, Arizona. I work in series
that question how I see and experience the physical and non-physical worlds: landscapes and natural forms, objects and non-objects, and languages and symbols that are used to communicate consciously and subconsciously. Acrylic, enamel and drawing media are used on canvas, wood and paper in layering processes that obscure and reveal and examine history, time and impermanence. I utilize formal elements of line, shape, color and texture that explore the physical sensations and intangible aspects of silence, freedom and space of natural elements in the local environments.
For the exhibition, “A Sense of Place: Identity, Community and Geography on the Colorado Plateau”, her work titled “Verde River Valley to the Mogollon Rim” is an abstract interpretation of the Verde Valley communities that border the escarpment at the southern edge of the Colorado Plateau.
Genise McGregor Cantio Inspiralis Et Expiralis: Ode to Peanut de la Luna Accordion Closed
Recently my work has been exploring the concepts of microcosm and macrocosm. This mixed media piece was inspired by a family camping trip on the Colorado Plateau. As we set up camp, we came across a tiny, abandoned baby mouse whose struggle to survive became the focus of a very cold and rainy trip. As we passed her around from warm pocket to warm pocket, the world became very focused and small. Yet my thoughts kept spiraling out to the many layers of existence in this one campsite, from the miniscule to the universally vast. We often define places by human made borders, trails and charts. We forget we are not the only ones who travel through these places. Over time, many life forms and types of matter simultaneously exist in a place, often completely unaware of each other. This piece is my active reflection on those layers of existence. The designs are inspired by and incorporate natural materials found on the campsite. Materials have been transformed into a visual weaving recalling a tapestry of lives through time, no matter how small or brief.
Domini Mostofi Road Map Accordion Closed
Trained as a filmmaker at the USC School of Cinematic Arts, I am an abstract painter and mixed-media artist living in Berkeley.
My work explores profound themes of belonging, love, loss, and identity. I often delve into the deep horizons of landscape painting, which serves as a metaphor to reflect the passage of time, the enduring presence of hope, and the promise of connection in an increasingly divided world. Gestural motion is central to my artistic process and the foundation for each composition.
My style is grounded in abstract expressionism to guide viewers through complicated visual narratives and unexpected forms. I dedicate myself to each piece, meticulously adding color, marks, and discarded materials to shape visually stimulating textures and inviting viewers into an impressionistic perspective of our intricate society. Ultimately, my goal as an artist is to encourage conversation and to inspire others to see the world through an empathetic lens that connects our human experience.
David Politzer
Alan Petersen Journeys in Search of Grand Canyon Uranium – Nuance and Apocalypse in the Earth’s Greatest Landscape Accordion Closed
I’ve been interested in nuclear science and technology since I was eight years old. I can still picture the first book that I read on atomic energy that led me down this path. I’ve previously addressed the subject by painting nuclear research and production facilities associated with the Manhattan Project of World War Two and the Cold War. In 2015, as I began on a new project that would focus on uranium mines and production facilities here on the Colorado Plateau, my focus shifted when I learned about the breccia pipes of the Grand Canyon region. I became fascinated with these vertical subterranean structures and that are essentially unknown outside of the energy and mining industries and a relatively small number of geologists. On the other hand, the mines that access and work these deposits have become highly controversial today.
I set out to explore the breccia pipes of the Grand Canyon region on bicycle and on foot in order to fully understand the landscape and geography in which they are located. A few, such as the site of the former Orphan Mine at the South Rim of Grand Canyon are very accessible. Others, such as pipe 493 in the western Grand Canyon, are exquisitely remote. To date, I have ridden 230 miles on my mountain bike and hiked many miles to visit 51 pipes and mine sites. I do drawings in the field and photograph the sites. Back in the studio I produce finished drawings. My approach, inspired by Ed Rushe’s photographs of apartment buildings and parking lots in 1960s Los Angeles, is one of neutrality. There is no celebration of the Sublime or of Romantic overindulgence.
Few of the breccia pipes are visible. Their veiled and obscure nature is one of their characteristics that attracts me. Some are visible, revealed in side canyons where the strata around them has eroded away. In the most dramatic examples, this leaves the harder core of the pipe (the breccia) revealed as a free standing vertical column. In many other cases, where the pipes are found in the surrounding countryside, all that may be visible is a shallow depression caused by the collapsed layers below. The depression may be seen as a large, somewhat barren circular area that will become a large mud puddle when it rains.
Grand Canyon. A place that many people from around the world recognize as one of Earth’s great landscapes and an illustration of the vastness of time and change on Earth.
Uranium. Despite their limited knowledge of the element and the science, just mention of the word “uranium” will create anxiety for many people. It is a powerful element that offers great benefits for humanity, and a far greater threat.
Each of these artifacts of Nature defy our daily understanding of our existence and together they present an intriguing paradox.
In the Grand Canyon region, uranium is associated with minerals found in geological structures called breccia pipes. The Italian origin of the term means either “loose gravel” or “stone made by cemented gravel.” Nineteenth-century copper mines in Grand Canyon extracted copper ore from breccia pipes, though the miners didn’t recognize the larger geological structure or meaning of the pipes. Breccia pipes in northwestern Arizona are the result of the dissolution of the Redwall Limestone (one of the most prominent cliff-forming layers in Grand Canyon), forming caverns, some of which collapsed, leading to the successive collapse of the overlying strata. This collapse produced steep-walled, pipe (or chimney) like bodies that were filled with small to house-size blocks of rock from the collapsed upper strata and bounded by a steeply dipping ring-like fracture zone circling the pipe. Dissolution of the Redwall Limestone began during the Late Mississippian (approximately 330 million years ago), creating an extensive karst terrain characterized by sinkholes, caves, and extensive underground drainages. As a result, the cross-section of the Grand Canyon might convey an image not unlike Swiss cheese.
There are nearly 1,300 breccia pipes and other related collapse structures in and around Grand Canyon. Not all contain uranium, but many do and only a small number of them have been fully surveyed and assessed. It is in these large vertical structures, (30 – 70 meters in diameter and between, roughly 800 – 980 meters deep) that uranium, along with other minerals, was deposited by ground water. The breccia pipes are natural conduits for ground water and one of the implications for mining uranium in this region with its intricately intermingled caverns and groundwater system is the pollution of water supplies for Native Americans living in and around Grand Canyon, most notably the Havasupai, Hualapai, and Navajo peoples.
Since 1951, twelve mines have produced more than 1,471,942 tons of uranium ore that produced more than 19,000 pounds of U3O8 (Triuranium octoxide is a popular form of partially refined uranium that is shipped between mills and refineries). Eight of these mines were located below the North and SouthRims of the Canyon and inside the current boundaries of the national park, though (as the result of expanded boundaries in the 1970s) most were not within the national park when they were operational.
To the general public, uranium represents an intense—and often misunderstood—threat. Uranium in its natural state, as found in breccia pipes, emits relatively low levels of radioactivity and is not particularly dangerous. However, news reports of nuclear accidents like the 2011 catastrophe at Fukishima Daiichi Nuclear Power Plant in Japan, the historical photographs of the two atomic weapons dropped on Japan in 1945, and subsequent atomic bomb tests depict scenes of apocalyptic magnitude.
It has been extremely rewarding to visit the breccia pipes that I have and to experience them within the greater landscape context, knowing that they extend thousands of feet below the surface and harbor a powerful. In contrast with the great dynamic nature of Grand Canyon as a geological and geographical feature and a popular subject of art for more than 100 years, I have sought the subtle and nuanced expression of geological features that are largely benign, unknown, and unseen, yet capable of social and environmental violence of the highest order.
More here:
https://alan-petersen.maps.arcgis.com/apps/MapJournal/index.html?appid=482d64a8cf074b1493f17c12fa7dd957 http://www.apetersenpaintings.com/
Mary Ross, John L. Vankat Group of Men and Women on Horseback in the San Francisco Peaks Circa 1890, and New Town Flagstaff Arizona. Accordion Closed
In 2015, ecologist/photographer/author John L. Vankat began a photography project to document and explain the past 150+ years of changes around the San Francisco Peaks, including Flagstaff. For Vankat, “The San Francisco Peaks are integral to my life. I hike them, photograph them, and view them from home. They are deeply personal to me.”
Vankat began his project by collecting historical photographs dating to 1910 and earlier. He then located the precise spot where each photo had been taken and rephotographed the scene, trying to repeat the original image at the same season and time of day. In 2021, Vankat began collaborating with graphic designer Mary Ross through Soulstice Publishing, all based in Flagstaff, to create a book from his project. Ross, who shares Vankat’s love for this area of the Colorado Plateau, brought her notable vision and skills to the project. The collaboration produced an award-winning book, The San Francisco Peaks and Flagstaff Through the Lens of Time.
Ross created the two composite images exhibited in “A Sense of Place” by digitally blending 19th-century photos with Vankat’s present-day repeats. Our objective was to achieve the effect of “bridging time” from past to present in single images, to provide a unique, mesmerizing sense of this place we love.
Locals are used to seeing sites around the Peaks and Flagstaff in their present-day form, so viewing historical downtown Flagstaff with very few buildings, people sitting on the front porch of a small hotel, and men on a bench in the middle of a dirt road allows a view back into the past.
Time has changed the scene. The dirt road became part of Route 66, and the historical buildings have been replaced and are now far outnumbered by modern buildings both in the foreground and the formerly open background. Yet the Peaks remain an emotional touchstone for residents and a landmark for travelers.
The photograph blending the past and present high on the San Francisco Peaks includes some of the first tourists to visit the uppermost elevations on the Peaks, long before hiking and backpacking became common. Also, the gray slopes of the Peaks in the historical photo show the impact of a major fire that burned most of the forest of the Inner Basin in 1879. Today, the gray has turned green with the regrowth of forest and no recent fires at this high elevation.
The digital blending of each historical photograph with Vankat’s modern repeat illustrates the history and dynamics of landscapes, providing a uniquely impactful sense of place. By visualizing the past and present intermingled on the same canvas, we emphasize that the landscapes we see, as well as the people present within them, are dynamic.
Even the century-plus between these historical and recent repeat photos will prove to be only a fleeting moment in the lifespan of the special town of Flagstaff and the beautiful San Francisco Peaks. What will the future bring, and who will be here to compare historical and ecological similarities and differences—and to ponder our and their own significance?
Carol Russell The Dance is Light and Root and Stone Accordion Closed
I was born in Arizona and the southwestern landscape permeates my experience of making art. My creative life began as an architect and I then spent years as a sculptor, before becoming a painter. This background shapes how I make art; often it is the structure, volume, interrelationships, and contrasting light and shadow of a composition that get my attention.
Perennial water has a particular manner in the Southwest:
a narrow linear world of cool air,
great trees casting moving shadows on smooth stone,
water tumbling and pooling, birds calling,
and red and gray canyon walls rising under a cobalt sky.
These paintings are part of a larger series
of a one-mile stretch of a perennial creek in my beloved Southwest,
where I have spent years sitting, watching, listening,
scrambling over sculpted stone,
and dipping bare feet into cool water on a summer day.
I have been shaped by this high desert land imprinted by water,
these creeks and rivers that rise and drop, only to rise again,
a visible gauge of the great cycles indigenous to the Colorado plateau,
sacred ribbons of life crossing an arid land.
Beth Shadur Tomichi (Black Canyon of the Gunnison NP) and Sheer (Black Canyon of the Gunnison NP) Accordion Closed
My newest body of work, The National Park Project, has resulted as a continuation of my works in the Fragility of the Sacred series, comprising paintings and individual handmade artists’ books integrating idea, text and visual images, with the theme of fragility. I am undertaking this work now as I am a mid-career artist, facing the recent loss of my mother, and the loss of my father and sister to rare forms of cancer. This theme has been present in my life in many aspects and deserves interpretation and exploration. I am looking at fragility of not only the wider environment, but the fragility of our own lives, both in terms of physical fragility but in terms of emotional fragility so common in our current world situation. As I age, I understand more significantly how fragile our plans are for our futures, and I often use symbolism to explore and portray these ideas.
My most recent series aspires to explore the National Parks as pristine environments that need to be considered as sacred to protect the land and environment which serves as our nation’s natural legacy. The exhibition and research were funded, in part, from an Artist Grant through the Illinois Arts Council Agency; the support allowed me to visit and photograph the five national parks that are in Utah and do continuous research for my artwork. Most importantly, I am reflecting on the impact of climate change, tourism, and man’s use of natural resources on each park; the paintings will reflect these concerns by representing the natural beauty, plants and animals impacted and threatened, and using text to address the fragility of the natural environment there.
This work is a continuation of the work I have undertaken as an Artist in Residences in various exceptional natural environments. I took three weeks as an Artist in Residence at the Leighton Artist Colony, Banff Centre for the Arts. During my time there, the series on “fragility” transformed to Fragility of the Sacred, as I embraced the sacred ground on which I worked. I began to think of what we hold sacred, and how we often devalue that, and how to resolve that issue in my own life. The sacred quality of the landscape and earth is embraced by First Nation people who live in the Banff National Park area; I found their idea of Vision Quest within the land appealing as I worked there, and found passionate inspiration in my research and direct work in the land. That residency informed my ideas of the sacred, and will continue in the years to come.
Two years ago, I undertook a residency at the Harfnarborg Art Museum in Hafnarjordur, Iceland. My previous ideas about the impact of our human footprint on the environment were emphasized by the sensational ecosystems of Iceland, which has a wide-ranging geology of fire and ice, magnificent in its breathtaking beauty, but which is highly threatened by global warming. Glacial melt threatens to destroy all glaciers there within 100 years. Volcanic eruptions are increasing and threaten not only the natural but built environment. Our stewardship of the earth proves increasingly important. For many years, my work has addressed the fragility of nature, and reflected my vast love for nature. I want my current work on the National Parks to address this alarming circumstance by expressing the wondrous beauty of the natural environment, while reminding us of its fragility. It is only with strong attention to our human impact that we can reverse what are dangerous trends; we must take action now before it is too late.
Verde River Valley to the Mogollon Rim Accordion Closed
I am a contemporary painter living and working in Sedona, Arizona. I work in series
that question how I see and experience the physical and non-physical worlds: landscapes and natural forms, objects and non-objects, and languages and symbols that are used to communicate consciously and subconsciously. Acrylic, enamel and drawing media are used on canvas, wood and paper in layering processes that obscure and reveal and examine history, time and impermanence. I utilize formal elements of line, shape, color and texture that explore the physical sensations and intangible aspects of silence, freedom and space of natural elements in the local environments.
For the exhibition, “A Sense of Place: Identity, Community and Geography on the Colorado Plateau”, her work titled “Verde River Valley to the Mogollon Rim” is an abstract interpretation of the Verde Valley communities that border the escarpment at the southern edge of the Colorado Plateau.
Cantio Inspiralis Et Expiralis: Ode to Peanut de la Luna Accordion Closed
Recently my work has been exploring the concepts of microcosm and macrocosm. This mixed media piece was inspired by a family camping trip on the Colorado Plateau. As we set up camp, we came across a tiny, abandoned baby mouse whose struggle to survive became the focus of a very cold and rainy trip. As we passed her around from warm pocket to warm pocket, the world became very focused and small. Yet my thoughts kept spiraling out to the many layers of existence in this one campsite, from the miniscule to the universally vast. We often define places by human made borders, trails and charts. We forget we are not the only ones who travel through these places. Over time, many life forms and types of matter simultaneously exist in a place, often completely unaware of each other. This piece is my active reflection on those layers of existence. The designs are inspired by and incorporate natural materials found on the campsite. Materials have been transformed into a visual weaving recalling a tapestry of lives through time, no matter how small or brief.
Domini Mostofi Road Map Accordion Closed
Trained as a filmmaker at the USC School of Cinematic Arts, I am an abstract painter and mixed-media artist living in Berkeley.
My work explores profound themes of belonging, love, loss, and identity. I often delve into the deep horizons of landscape painting, which serves as a metaphor to reflect the passage of time, the enduring presence of hope, and the promise of connection in an increasingly divided world. Gestural motion is central to my artistic process and the foundation for each composition.
My style is grounded in abstract expressionism to guide viewers through complicated visual narratives and unexpected forms. I dedicate myself to each piece, meticulously adding color, marks, and discarded materials to shape visually stimulating textures and inviting viewers into an impressionistic perspective of our intricate society. Ultimately, my goal as an artist is to encourage conversation and to inspire others to see the world through an empathetic lens that connects our human experience.
David Politzer
Alan Petersen Journeys in Search of Grand Canyon Uranium – Nuance and Apocalypse in the Earth’s Greatest Landscape Accordion Closed
I’ve been interested in nuclear science and technology since I was eight years old. I can still picture the first book that I read on atomic energy that led me down this path. I’ve previously addressed the subject by painting nuclear research and production facilities associated with the Manhattan Project of World War Two and the Cold War. In 2015, as I began on a new project that would focus on uranium mines and production facilities here on the Colorado Plateau, my focus shifted when I learned about the breccia pipes of the Grand Canyon region. I became fascinated with these vertical subterranean structures and that are essentially unknown outside of the energy and mining industries and a relatively small number of geologists. On the other hand, the mines that access and work these deposits have become highly controversial today.
I set out to explore the breccia pipes of the Grand Canyon region on bicycle and on foot in order to fully understand the landscape and geography in which they are located. A few, such as the site of the former Orphan Mine at the South Rim of Grand Canyon are very accessible. Others, such as pipe 493 in the western Grand Canyon, are exquisitely remote. To date, I have ridden 230 miles on my mountain bike and hiked many miles to visit 51 pipes and mine sites. I do drawings in the field and photograph the sites. Back in the studio I produce finished drawings. My approach, inspired by Ed Rushe’s photographs of apartment buildings and parking lots in 1960s Los Angeles, is one of neutrality. There is no celebration of the Sublime or of Romantic overindulgence.
Few of the breccia pipes are visible. Their veiled and obscure nature is one of their characteristics that attracts me. Some are visible, revealed in side canyons where the strata around them has eroded away. In the most dramatic examples, this leaves the harder core of the pipe (the breccia) revealed as a free standing vertical column. In many other cases, where the pipes are found in the surrounding countryside, all that may be visible is a shallow depression caused by the collapsed layers below. The depression may be seen as a large, somewhat barren circular area that will become a large mud puddle when it rains.
Grand Canyon. A place that many people from around the world recognize as one of Earth’s great landscapes and an illustration of the vastness of time and change on Earth.
Uranium. Despite their limited knowledge of the element and the science, just mention of the word “uranium” will create anxiety for many people. It is a powerful element that offers great benefits for humanity, and a far greater threat.
Each of these artifacts of Nature defy our daily understanding of our existence and together they present an intriguing paradox.
In the Grand Canyon region, uranium is associated with minerals found in geological structures called breccia pipes. The Italian origin of the term means either “loose gravel” or “stone made by cemented gravel.” Nineteenth-century copper mines in Grand Canyon extracted copper ore from breccia pipes, though the miners didn’t recognize the larger geological structure or meaning of the pipes. Breccia pipes in northwestern Arizona are the result of the dissolution of the Redwall Limestone (one of the most prominent cliff-forming layers in Grand Canyon), forming caverns, some of which collapsed, leading to the successive collapse of the overlying strata. This collapse produced steep-walled, pipe (or chimney) like bodies that were filled with small to house-size blocks of rock from the collapsed upper strata and bounded by a steeply dipping ring-like fracture zone circling the pipe. Dissolution of the Redwall Limestone began during the Late Mississippian (approximately 330 million years ago), creating an extensive karst terrain characterized by sinkholes, caves, and extensive underground drainages. As a result, the cross-section of the Grand Canyon might convey an image not unlike Swiss cheese.
There are nearly 1,300 breccia pipes and other related collapse structures in and around Grand Canyon. Not all contain uranium, but many do and only a small number of them have been fully surveyed and assessed. It is in these large vertical structures, (30 – 70 meters in diameter and between, roughly 800 – 980 meters deep) that uranium, along with other minerals, was deposited by ground water. The breccia pipes are natural conduits for ground water and one of the implications for mining uranium in this region with its intricately intermingled caverns and groundwater system is the pollution of water supplies for Native Americans living in and around Grand Canyon, most notably the Havasupai, Hualapai, and Navajo peoples.
Since 1951, twelve mines have produced more than 1,471,942 tons of uranium ore that produced more than 19,000 pounds of U3O8 (Triuranium octoxide is a popular form of partially refined uranium that is shipped between mills and refineries). Eight of these mines were located below the North and SouthRims of the Canyon and inside the current boundaries of the national park, though (as the result of expanded boundaries in the 1970s) most were not within the national park when they were operational.
To the general public, uranium represents an intense—and often misunderstood—threat. Uranium in its natural state, as found in breccia pipes, emits relatively low levels of radioactivity and is not particularly dangerous. However, news reports of nuclear accidents like the 2011 catastrophe at Fukishima Daiichi Nuclear Power Plant in Japan, the historical photographs of the two atomic weapons dropped on Japan in 1945, and subsequent atomic bomb tests depict scenes of apocalyptic magnitude.
It has been extremely rewarding to visit the breccia pipes that I have and to experience them within the greater landscape context, knowing that they extend thousands of feet below the surface and harbor a powerful. In contrast with the great dynamic nature of Grand Canyon as a geological and geographical feature and a popular subject of art for more than 100 years, I have sought the subtle and nuanced expression of geological features that are largely benign, unknown, and unseen, yet capable of social and environmental violence of the highest order.
More here:
https://alan-petersen.maps.arcgis.com/apps/MapJournal/index.html?appid=482d64a8cf074b1493f17c12fa7dd957 http://www.apetersenpaintings.com/
Mary Ross, John L. Vankat Group of Men and Women on Horseback in the San Francisco Peaks Circa 1890, and New Town Flagstaff Arizona. Accordion Closed
In 2015, ecologist/photographer/author John L. Vankat began a photography project to document and explain the past 150+ years of changes around the San Francisco Peaks, including Flagstaff. For Vankat, “The San Francisco Peaks are integral to my life. I hike them, photograph them, and view them from home. They are deeply personal to me.”
Vankat began his project by collecting historical photographs dating to 1910 and earlier. He then located the precise spot where each photo had been taken and rephotographed the scene, trying to repeat the original image at the same season and time of day. In 2021, Vankat began collaborating with graphic designer Mary Ross through Soulstice Publishing, all based in Flagstaff, to create a book from his project. Ross, who shares Vankat’s love for this area of the Colorado Plateau, brought her notable vision and skills to the project. The collaboration produced an award-winning book, The San Francisco Peaks and Flagstaff Through the Lens of Time.
Ross created the two composite images exhibited in “A Sense of Place” by digitally blending 19th-century photos with Vankat’s present-day repeats. Our objective was to achieve the effect of “bridging time” from past to present in single images, to provide a unique, mesmerizing sense of this place we love.
Locals are used to seeing sites around the Peaks and Flagstaff in their present-day form, so viewing historical downtown Flagstaff with very few buildings, people sitting on the front porch of a small hotel, and men on a bench in the middle of a dirt road allows a view back into the past.
Time has changed the scene. The dirt road became part of Route 66, and the historical buildings have been replaced and are now far outnumbered by modern buildings both in the foreground and the formerly open background. Yet the Peaks remain an emotional touchstone for residents and a landmark for travelers.
The photograph blending the past and present high on the San Francisco Peaks includes some of the first tourists to visit the uppermost elevations on the Peaks, long before hiking and backpacking became common. Also, the gray slopes of the Peaks in the historical photo show the impact of a major fire that burned most of the forest of the Inner Basin in 1879. Today, the gray has turned green with the regrowth of forest and no recent fires at this high elevation.
The digital blending of each historical photograph with Vankat’s modern repeat illustrates the history and dynamics of landscapes, providing a uniquely impactful sense of place. By visualizing the past and present intermingled on the same canvas, we emphasize that the landscapes we see, as well as the people present within them, are dynamic.
Even the century-plus between these historical and recent repeat photos will prove to be only a fleeting moment in the lifespan of the special town of Flagstaff and the beautiful San Francisco Peaks. What will the future bring, and who will be here to compare historical and ecological similarities and differences—and to ponder our and their own significance?
Carol Russell The Dance is Light and Root and Stone Accordion Closed
I was born in Arizona and the southwestern landscape permeates my experience of making art. My creative life began as an architect and I then spent years as a sculptor, before becoming a painter. This background shapes how I make art; often it is the structure, volume, interrelationships, and contrasting light and shadow of a composition that get my attention.
Perennial water has a particular manner in the Southwest:
a narrow linear world of cool air,
great trees casting moving shadows on smooth stone,
water tumbling and pooling, birds calling,
and red and gray canyon walls rising under a cobalt sky.
These paintings are part of a larger series
of a one-mile stretch of a perennial creek in my beloved Southwest,
where I have spent years sitting, watching, listening,
scrambling over sculpted stone,
and dipping bare feet into cool water on a summer day.
I have been shaped by this high desert land imprinted by water,
these creeks and rivers that rise and drop, only to rise again,
a visible gauge of the great cycles indigenous to the Colorado plateau,
sacred ribbons of life crossing an arid land.
Beth Shadur Tomichi (Black Canyon of the Gunnison NP) and Sheer (Black Canyon of the Gunnison NP) Accordion Closed
My newest body of work, The National Park Project, has resulted as a continuation of my works in the Fragility of the Sacred series, comprising paintings and individual handmade artists’ books integrating idea, text and visual images, with the theme of fragility. I am undertaking this work now as I am a mid-career artist, facing the recent loss of my mother, and the loss of my father and sister to rare forms of cancer. This theme has been present in my life in many aspects and deserves interpretation and exploration. I am looking at fragility of not only the wider environment, but the fragility of our own lives, both in terms of physical fragility but in terms of emotional fragility so common in our current world situation. As I age, I understand more significantly how fragile our plans are for our futures, and I often use symbolism to explore and portray these ideas.
My most recent series aspires to explore the National Parks as pristine environments that need to be considered as sacred to protect the land and environment which serves as our nation’s natural legacy. The exhibition and research were funded, in part, from an Artist Grant through the Illinois Arts Council Agency; the support allowed me to visit and photograph the five national parks that are in Utah and do continuous research for my artwork. Most importantly, I am reflecting on the impact of climate change, tourism, and man’s use of natural resources on each park; the paintings will reflect these concerns by representing the natural beauty, plants and animals impacted and threatened, and using text to address the fragility of the natural environment there.
This work is a continuation of the work I have undertaken as an Artist in Residences in various exceptional natural environments. I took three weeks as an Artist in Residence at the Leighton Artist Colony, Banff Centre for the Arts. During my time there, the series on “fragility” transformed to Fragility of the Sacred, as I embraced the sacred ground on which I worked. I began to think of what we hold sacred, and how we often devalue that, and how to resolve that issue in my own life. The sacred quality of the landscape and earth is embraced by First Nation people who live in the Banff National Park area; I found their idea of Vision Quest within the land appealing as I worked there, and found passionate inspiration in my research and direct work in the land. That residency informed my ideas of the sacred, and will continue in the years to come.
Two years ago, I undertook a residency at the Harfnarborg Art Museum in Hafnarjordur, Iceland. My previous ideas about the impact of our human footprint on the environment were emphasized by the sensational ecosystems of Iceland, which has a wide-ranging geology of fire and ice, magnificent in its breathtaking beauty, but which is highly threatened by global warming. Glacial melt threatens to destroy all glaciers there within 100 years. Volcanic eruptions are increasing and threaten not only the natural but built environment. Our stewardship of the earth proves increasingly important. For many years, my work has addressed the fragility of nature, and reflected my vast love for nature. I want my current work on the National Parks to address this alarming circumstance by expressing the wondrous beauty of the natural environment, while reminding us of its fragility. It is only with strong attention to our human impact that we can reverse what are dangerous trends; we must take action now before it is too late.
Road Map Accordion Closed
Trained as a filmmaker at the USC School of Cinematic Arts, I am an abstract painter and mixed-media artist living in Berkeley.
My work explores profound themes of belonging, love, loss, and identity. I often delve into the deep horizons of landscape painting, which serves as a metaphor to reflect the passage of time, the enduring presence of hope, and the promise of connection in an increasingly divided world. Gestural motion is central to my artistic process and the foundation for each composition.
My style is grounded in abstract expressionism to guide viewers through complicated visual narratives and unexpected forms. I dedicate myself to each piece, meticulously adding color, marks, and discarded materials to shape visually stimulating textures and inviting viewers into an impressionistic perspective of our intricate society. Ultimately, my goal as an artist is to encourage conversation and to inspire others to see the world through an empathetic lens that connects our human experience.
Journeys in Search of Grand Canyon Uranium – Nuance and Apocalypse in the Earth’s Greatest Landscape Accordion Closed
I’ve been interested in nuclear science and technology since I was eight years old. I can still picture the first book that I read on atomic energy that led me down this path. I’ve previously addressed the subject by painting nuclear research and production facilities associated with the Manhattan Project of World War Two and the Cold War. In 2015, as I began on a new project that would focus on uranium mines and production facilities here on the Colorado Plateau, my focus shifted when I learned about the breccia pipes of the Grand Canyon region. I became fascinated with these vertical subterranean structures and that are essentially unknown outside of the energy and mining industries and a relatively small number of geologists. On the other hand, the mines that access and work these deposits have become highly controversial today.
I set out to explore the breccia pipes of the Grand Canyon region on bicycle and on foot in order to fully understand the landscape and geography in which they are located. A few, such as the site of the former Orphan Mine at the South Rim of Grand Canyon are very accessible. Others, such as pipe 493 in the western Grand Canyon, are exquisitely remote. To date, I have ridden 230 miles on my mountain bike and hiked many miles to visit 51 pipes and mine sites. I do drawings in the field and photograph the sites. Back in the studio I produce finished drawings. My approach, inspired by Ed Rushe’s photographs of apartment buildings and parking lots in 1960s Los Angeles, is one of neutrality. There is no celebration of the Sublime or of Romantic overindulgence.
Few of the breccia pipes are visible. Their veiled and obscure nature is one of their characteristics that attracts me. Some are visible, revealed in side canyons where the strata around them has eroded away. In the most dramatic examples, this leaves the harder core of the pipe (the breccia) revealed as a free standing vertical column. In many other cases, where the pipes are found in the surrounding countryside, all that may be visible is a shallow depression caused by the collapsed layers below. The depression may be seen as a large, somewhat barren circular area that will become a large mud puddle when it rains.
Grand Canyon. A place that many people from around the world recognize as one of Earth’s great landscapes and an illustration of the vastness of time and change on Earth.
Uranium. Despite their limited knowledge of the element and the science, just mention of the word “uranium” will create anxiety for many people. It is a powerful element that offers great benefits for humanity, and a far greater threat.
Each of these artifacts of Nature defy our daily understanding of our existence and together they present an intriguing paradox.
In the Grand Canyon region, uranium is associated with minerals found in geological structures called breccia pipes. The Italian origin of the term means either “loose gravel” or “stone made by cemented gravel.” Nineteenth-century copper mines in Grand Canyon extracted copper ore from breccia pipes, though the miners didn’t recognize the larger geological structure or meaning of the pipes. Breccia pipes in northwestern Arizona are the result of the dissolution of the Redwall Limestone (one of the most prominent cliff-forming layers in Grand Canyon), forming caverns, some of which collapsed, leading to the successive collapse of the overlying strata. This collapse produced steep-walled, pipe (or chimney) like bodies that were filled with small to house-size blocks of rock from the collapsed upper strata and bounded by a steeply dipping ring-like fracture zone circling the pipe. Dissolution of the Redwall Limestone began during the Late Mississippian (approximately 330 million years ago), creating an extensive karst terrain characterized by sinkholes, caves, and extensive underground drainages. As a result, the cross-section of the Grand Canyon might convey an image not unlike Swiss cheese.
There are nearly 1,300 breccia pipes and other related collapse structures in and around Grand Canyon. Not all contain uranium, but many do and only a small number of them have been fully surveyed and assessed. It is in these large vertical structures, (30 – 70 meters in diameter and between, roughly 800 – 980 meters deep) that uranium, along with other minerals, was deposited by ground water. The breccia pipes are natural conduits for ground water and one of the implications for mining uranium in this region with its intricately intermingled caverns and groundwater system is the pollution of water supplies for Native Americans living in and around Grand Canyon, most notably the Havasupai, Hualapai, and Navajo peoples.
Since 1951, twelve mines have produced more than 1,471,942 tons of uranium ore that produced more than 19,000 pounds of U3O8 (Triuranium octoxide is a popular form of partially refined uranium that is shipped between mills and refineries). Eight of these mines were located below the North and SouthRims of the Canyon and inside the current boundaries of the national park, though (as the result of expanded boundaries in the 1970s) most were not within the national park when they were operational.
To the general public, uranium represents an intense—and often misunderstood—threat. Uranium in its natural state, as found in breccia pipes, emits relatively low levels of radioactivity and is not particularly dangerous. However, news reports of nuclear accidents like the 2011 catastrophe at Fukishima Daiichi Nuclear Power Plant in Japan, the historical photographs of the two atomic weapons dropped on Japan in 1945, and subsequent atomic bomb tests depict scenes of apocalyptic magnitude.
It has been extremely rewarding to visit the breccia pipes that I have and to experience them within the greater landscape context, knowing that they extend thousands of feet below the surface and harbor a powerful. In contrast with the great dynamic nature of Grand Canyon as a geological and geographical feature and a popular subject of art for more than 100 years, I have sought the subtle and nuanced expression of geological features that are largely benign, unknown, and unseen, yet capable of social and environmental violence of the highest order.
More here:
https://alan-petersen.maps.arcgis.com/apps/MapJournal/index.html?appid=482d64a8cf074b1493f17c12fa7dd957 http://www.apetersenpaintings.com/
Mary Ross, John L. Vankat Group of Men and Women on Horseback in the San Francisco Peaks Circa 1890, and New Town Flagstaff Arizona. Accordion Closed
In 2015, ecologist/photographer/author John L. Vankat began a photography project to document and explain the past 150+ years of changes around the San Francisco Peaks, including Flagstaff. For Vankat, “The San Francisco Peaks are integral to my life. I hike them, photograph them, and view them from home. They are deeply personal to me.”
Vankat began his project by collecting historical photographs dating to 1910 and earlier. He then located the precise spot where each photo had been taken and rephotographed the scene, trying to repeat the original image at the same season and time of day. In 2021, Vankat began collaborating with graphic designer Mary Ross through Soulstice Publishing, all based in Flagstaff, to create a book from his project. Ross, who shares Vankat’s love for this area of the Colorado Plateau, brought her notable vision and skills to the project. The collaboration produced an award-winning book, The San Francisco Peaks and Flagstaff Through the Lens of Time.
Ross created the two composite images exhibited in “A Sense of Place” by digitally blending 19th-century photos with Vankat’s present-day repeats. Our objective was to achieve the effect of “bridging time” from past to present in single images, to provide a unique, mesmerizing sense of this place we love.
Locals are used to seeing sites around the Peaks and Flagstaff in their present-day form, so viewing historical downtown Flagstaff with very few buildings, people sitting on the front porch of a small hotel, and men on a bench in the middle of a dirt road allows a view back into the past.
Time has changed the scene. The dirt road became part of Route 66, and the historical buildings have been replaced and are now far outnumbered by modern buildings both in the foreground and the formerly open background. Yet the Peaks remain an emotional touchstone for residents and a landmark for travelers.
The photograph blending the past and present high on the San Francisco Peaks includes some of the first tourists to visit the uppermost elevations on the Peaks, long before hiking and backpacking became common. Also, the gray slopes of the Peaks in the historical photo show the impact of a major fire that burned most of the forest of the Inner Basin in 1879. Today, the gray has turned green with the regrowth of forest and no recent fires at this high elevation.
The digital blending of each historical photograph with Vankat’s modern repeat illustrates the history and dynamics of landscapes, providing a uniquely impactful sense of place. By visualizing the past and present intermingled on the same canvas, we emphasize that the landscapes we see, as well as the people present within them, are dynamic.
Even the century-plus between these historical and recent repeat photos will prove to be only a fleeting moment in the lifespan of the special town of Flagstaff and the beautiful San Francisco Peaks. What will the future bring, and who will be here to compare historical and ecological similarities and differences—and to ponder our and their own significance?
Carol Russell The Dance is Light and Root and Stone Accordion Closed
I was born in Arizona and the southwestern landscape permeates my experience of making art. My creative life began as an architect and I then spent years as a sculptor, before becoming a painter. This background shapes how I make art; often it is the structure, volume, interrelationships, and contrasting light and shadow of a composition that get my attention.
Perennial water has a particular manner in the Southwest:
a narrow linear world of cool air,
great trees casting moving shadows on smooth stone,
water tumbling and pooling, birds calling,
and red and gray canyon walls rising under a cobalt sky.
These paintings are part of a larger series
of a one-mile stretch of a perennial creek in my beloved Southwest,
where I have spent years sitting, watching, listening,
scrambling over sculpted stone,
and dipping bare feet into cool water on a summer day.
I have been shaped by this high desert land imprinted by water,
these creeks and rivers that rise and drop, only to rise again,
a visible gauge of the great cycles indigenous to the Colorado plateau,
sacred ribbons of life crossing an arid land.
Beth Shadur Tomichi (Black Canyon of the Gunnison NP) and Sheer (Black Canyon of the Gunnison NP) Accordion Closed
My newest body of work, The National Park Project, has resulted as a continuation of my works in the Fragility of the Sacred series, comprising paintings and individual handmade artists’ books integrating idea, text and visual images, with the theme of fragility. I am undertaking this work now as I am a mid-career artist, facing the recent loss of my mother, and the loss of my father and sister to rare forms of cancer. This theme has been present in my life in many aspects and deserves interpretation and exploration. I am looking at fragility of not only the wider environment, but the fragility of our own lives, both in terms of physical fragility but in terms of emotional fragility so common in our current world situation. As I age, I understand more significantly how fragile our plans are for our futures, and I often use symbolism to explore and portray these ideas.
My most recent series aspires to explore the National Parks as pristine environments that need to be considered as sacred to protect the land and environment which serves as our nation’s natural legacy. The exhibition and research were funded, in part, from an Artist Grant through the Illinois Arts Council Agency; the support allowed me to visit and photograph the five national parks that are in Utah and do continuous research for my artwork. Most importantly, I am reflecting on the impact of climate change, tourism, and man’s use of natural resources on each park; the paintings will reflect these concerns by representing the natural beauty, plants and animals impacted and threatened, and using text to address the fragility of the natural environment there.
This work is a continuation of the work I have undertaken as an Artist in Residences in various exceptional natural environments. I took three weeks as an Artist in Residence at the Leighton Artist Colony, Banff Centre for the Arts. During my time there, the series on “fragility” transformed to Fragility of the Sacred, as I embraced the sacred ground on which I worked. I began to think of what we hold sacred, and how we often devalue that, and how to resolve that issue in my own life. The sacred quality of the landscape and earth is embraced by First Nation people who live in the Banff National Park area; I found their idea of Vision Quest within the land appealing as I worked there, and found passionate inspiration in my research and direct work in the land. That residency informed my ideas of the sacred, and will continue in the years to come.
Two years ago, I undertook a residency at the Harfnarborg Art Museum in Hafnarjordur, Iceland. My previous ideas about the impact of our human footprint on the environment were emphasized by the sensational ecosystems of Iceland, which has a wide-ranging geology of fire and ice, magnificent in its breathtaking beauty, but which is highly threatened by global warming. Glacial melt threatens to destroy all glaciers there within 100 years. Volcanic eruptions are increasing and threaten not only the natural but built environment. Our stewardship of the earth proves increasingly important. For many years, my work has addressed the fragility of nature, and reflected my vast love for nature. I want my current work on the National Parks to address this alarming circumstance by expressing the wondrous beauty of the natural environment, while reminding us of its fragility. It is only with strong attention to our human impact that we can reverse what are dangerous trends; we must take action now before it is too late.
Group of Men and Women on Horseback in the San Francisco Peaks Circa 1890, and New Town Flagstaff Arizona. Accordion Closed
In 2015, ecologist/photographer/author John L. Vankat began a photography project to document and explain the past 150+ years of changes around the San Francisco Peaks, including Flagstaff. For Vankat, “The San Francisco Peaks are integral to my life. I hike them, photograph them, and view them from home. They are deeply personal to me.”
Vankat began his project by collecting historical photographs dating to 1910 and earlier. He then located the precise spot where each photo had been taken and rephotographed the scene, trying to repeat the original image at the same season and time of day. In 2021, Vankat began collaborating with graphic designer Mary Ross through Soulstice Publishing, all based in Flagstaff, to create a book from his project. Ross, who shares Vankat’s love for this area of the Colorado Plateau, brought her notable vision and skills to the project. The collaboration produced an award-winning book, The San Francisco Peaks and Flagstaff Through the Lens of Time.
Ross created the two composite images exhibited in “A Sense of Place” by digitally blending 19th-century photos with Vankat’s present-day repeats. Our objective was to achieve the effect of “bridging time” from past to present in single images, to provide a unique, mesmerizing sense of this place we love.
Locals are used to seeing sites around the Peaks and Flagstaff in their present-day form, so viewing historical downtown Flagstaff with very few buildings, people sitting on the front porch of a small hotel, and men on a bench in the middle of a dirt road allows a view back into the past.
Time has changed the scene. The dirt road became part of Route 66, and the historical buildings have been replaced and are now far outnumbered by modern buildings both in the foreground and the formerly open background. Yet the Peaks remain an emotional touchstone for residents and a landmark for travelers.
The photograph blending the past and present high on the San Francisco Peaks includes some of the first tourists to visit the uppermost elevations on the Peaks, long before hiking and backpacking became common. Also, the gray slopes of the Peaks in the historical photo show the impact of a major fire that burned most of the forest of the Inner Basin in 1879. Today, the gray has turned green with the regrowth of forest and no recent fires at this high elevation.
The digital blending of each historical photograph with Vankat’s modern repeat illustrates the history and dynamics of landscapes, providing a uniquely impactful sense of place. By visualizing the past and present intermingled on the same canvas, we emphasize that the landscapes we see, as well as the people present within them, are dynamic.
Even the century-plus between these historical and recent repeat photos will prove to be only a fleeting moment in the lifespan of the special town of Flagstaff and the beautiful San Francisco Peaks. What will the future bring, and who will be here to compare historical and ecological similarities and differences—and to ponder our and their own significance?
The Dance is Light and Root and Stone Accordion Closed
I was born in Arizona and the southwestern landscape permeates my experience of making art. My creative life began as an architect and I then spent years as a sculptor, before becoming a painter. This background shapes how I make art; often it is the structure, volume, interrelationships, and contrasting light and shadow of a composition that get my attention.
Perennial water has a particular manner in the Southwest:
a narrow linear world of cool air,
great trees casting moving shadows on smooth stone,
water tumbling and pooling, birds calling,
and red and gray canyon walls rising under a cobalt sky.
These paintings are part of a larger series
of a one-mile stretch of a perennial creek in my beloved Southwest,
where I have spent years sitting, watching, listening,
scrambling over sculpted stone,
and dipping bare feet into cool water on a summer day.
I have been shaped by this high desert land imprinted by water,
these creeks and rivers that rise and drop, only to rise again,
a visible gauge of the great cycles indigenous to the Colorado plateau,
sacred ribbons of life crossing an arid land.
Beth Shadur Tomichi (Black Canyon of the Gunnison NP) and Sheer (Black Canyon of the Gunnison NP) Accordion Closed
My newest body of work, The National Park Project, has resulted as a continuation of my works in the Fragility of the Sacred series, comprising paintings and individual handmade artists’ books integrating idea, text and visual images, with the theme of fragility. I am undertaking this work now as I am a mid-career artist, facing the recent loss of my mother, and the loss of my father and sister to rare forms of cancer. This theme has been present in my life in many aspects and deserves interpretation and exploration. I am looking at fragility of not only the wider environment, but the fragility of our own lives, both in terms of physical fragility but in terms of emotional fragility so common in our current world situation. As I age, I understand more significantly how fragile our plans are for our futures, and I often use symbolism to explore and portray these ideas.
My most recent series aspires to explore the National Parks as pristine environments that need to be considered as sacred to protect the land and environment which serves as our nation’s natural legacy. The exhibition and research were funded, in part, from an Artist Grant through the Illinois Arts Council Agency; the support allowed me to visit and photograph the five national parks that are in Utah and do continuous research for my artwork. Most importantly, I am reflecting on the impact of climate change, tourism, and man’s use of natural resources on each park; the paintings will reflect these concerns by representing the natural beauty, plants and animals impacted and threatened, and using text to address the fragility of the natural environment there.
This work is a continuation of the work I have undertaken as an Artist in Residences in various exceptional natural environments. I took three weeks as an Artist in Residence at the Leighton Artist Colony, Banff Centre for the Arts. During my time there, the series on “fragility” transformed to Fragility of the Sacred, as I embraced the sacred ground on which I worked. I began to think of what we hold sacred, and how we often devalue that, and how to resolve that issue in my own life. The sacred quality of the landscape and earth is embraced by First Nation people who live in the Banff National Park area; I found their idea of Vision Quest within the land appealing as I worked there, and found passionate inspiration in my research and direct work in the land. That residency informed my ideas of the sacred, and will continue in the years to come.
Two years ago, I undertook a residency at the Harfnarborg Art Museum in Hafnarjordur, Iceland. My previous ideas about the impact of our human footprint on the environment were emphasized by the sensational ecosystems of Iceland, which has a wide-ranging geology of fire and ice, magnificent in its breathtaking beauty, but which is highly threatened by global warming. Glacial melt threatens to destroy all glaciers there within 100 years. Volcanic eruptions are increasing and threaten not only the natural but built environment. Our stewardship of the earth proves increasingly important. For many years, my work has addressed the fragility of nature, and reflected my vast love for nature. I want my current work on the National Parks to address this alarming circumstance by expressing the wondrous beauty of the natural environment, while reminding us of its fragility. It is only with strong attention to our human impact that we can reverse what are dangerous trends; we must take action now before it is too late.
Tomichi (Black Canyon of the Gunnison NP) and Sheer (Black Canyon of the Gunnison NP) Accordion Closed
My newest body of work, The National Park Project, has resulted as a continuation of my works in the Fragility of the Sacred series, comprising paintings and individual handmade artists’ books integrating idea, text and visual images, with the theme of fragility. I am undertaking this work now as I am a mid-career artist, facing the recent loss of my mother, and the loss of my father and sister to rare forms of cancer. This theme has been present in my life in many aspects and deserves interpretation and exploration. I am looking at fragility of not only the wider environment, but the fragility of our own lives, both in terms of physical fragility but in terms of emotional fragility so common in our current world situation. As I age, I understand more significantly how fragile our plans are for our futures, and I often use symbolism to explore and portray these ideas.
My most recent series aspires to explore the National Parks as pristine environments that need to be considered as sacred to protect the land and environment which serves as our nation’s natural legacy. The exhibition and research were funded, in part, from an Artist Grant through the Illinois Arts Council Agency; the support allowed me to visit and photograph the five national parks that are in Utah and do continuous research for my artwork. Most importantly, I am reflecting on the impact of climate change, tourism, and man’s use of natural resources on each park; the paintings will reflect these concerns by representing the natural beauty, plants and animals impacted and threatened, and using text to address the fragility of the natural environment there.
This work is a continuation of the work I have undertaken as an Artist in Residences in various exceptional natural environments. I took three weeks as an Artist in Residence at the Leighton Artist Colony, Banff Centre for the Arts. During my time there, the series on “fragility” transformed to Fragility of the Sacred, as I embraced the sacred ground on which I worked. I began to think of what we hold sacred, and how we often devalue that, and how to resolve that issue in my own life. The sacred quality of the landscape and earth is embraced by First Nation people who live in the Banff National Park area; I found their idea of Vision Quest within the land appealing as I worked there, and found passionate inspiration in my research and direct work in the land. That residency informed my ideas of the sacred, and will continue in the years to come.
Two years ago, I undertook a residency at the Harfnarborg Art Museum in Hafnarjordur, Iceland. My previous ideas about the impact of our human footprint on the environment were emphasized by the sensational ecosystems of Iceland, which has a wide-ranging geology of fire and ice, magnificent in its breathtaking beauty, but which is highly threatened by global warming. Glacial melt threatens to destroy all glaciers there within 100 years. Volcanic eruptions are increasing and threaten not only the natural but built environment. Our stewardship of the earth proves increasingly important. For many years, my work has addressed the fragility of nature, and reflected my vast love for nature. I want my current work on the National Parks to address this alarming circumstance by expressing the wondrous beauty of the natural environment, while reminding us of its fragility. It is only with strong attention to our human impact that we can reverse what are dangerous trends; we must take action now before it is too late.
Brenda Smith Glen Canyon 3 Accordion Closed
As a contemporary quilter, I am inspired by the natural world, both near my home in northern Arizona and in my travels. My work is related to nature and landscapes through color, pattern, and design. I experiment with color, fabric dyeing, and texture through various surface design techniques. Images of the places I have visited, and the impressions and traces of people, geology, and nature find their way into many of my quilts. I use various digital techniques to interpret my photographs into visual memories of my experiences.
Glen Canyon 3 is the third in a series of fiber works reflecting on the effects of climate change on the Colorado River. As aridity and drought have lowered the level of Lake Powell, vestiges of Glen Canyon have been exposed and the lake has again resembled the river it once was.
Catherine Eaton Skinner Interplay VIII, Interplay II Accordion Closed
This year marks my 60th year as an artist. Growing up in the Pacific Northwest, my backyard was comprised of evergreen woods, saltwater bays and fresh rivers weaving through majestic mountain ranges. My first twenty years as a professional artist began at Stanford University, where I earned my Bachelor of Arts and Sciences. Oil painting was taught by Nathan Oliveira and drawing with Frank Lobdell. Working and illustrating for the Biology Department began my 20 years of professional biological illustration.
Presently, I divide my time between studios in Seattle and Santa Fe as a multidisciplinary artist in painting, printmaking, photography and sculpture. The thread in my work has always embraced the elemental archetypes of the physical and cosmic world: water, ether, earth, fire, wind and wood. As a mark-maker, I am drawn to the methods used by people and animals to indicate their presence and their relationship to place. Observation of the macro to the micro has allowed exploration of the interactions and patterning of these five elements. This is expressed in my conceptual work through the juxtaposition of various materials: beeswax and resin, graphite, oil stick; glass; lead sheeting and precious metal leaf; textiles and papers; found objects.
The inner soul of an artist is continually inscribed upon by societal and political bombardment during day-to-day images and events, making it difficult to remain in a vacuum. My Interplay series reflects the beauty in layers of color, as well as the chaos of destruction. The shape of the square symbolizes stability and strength, community and foundation. The question remains, how to portray the hope and majesty of our world within the confines of environmental destruction and the new ‘norms’ to which we are exposed. Our foundations created within four lines have become unstable.
The possibility of hope and stability for our world and ourselves as humans manifests itself in our willingness to communicate mending the broken lines between us.
Radius Books of Santa Fe published my monograph 108, which encompasses 14 years of incorporating this powerful philosophical number in many forms and mediums. Over time, I began to feel the limitation of this specific parameter. I then became intrigued with horizontal and vertical lines, and the exploration of their meanings. Landscapes develop with the horizon of water, plateaus and land. Rain, seeps and forests echo the vertical, simultaneously indicating humans standing firmly upright. The earth’s rotation creates currents of water and wind, pushing these lines to move and flow or solidifying them, constantly changing their interpretation.
If you listen, life’s heart and soul will speak. My mission is to ‘do the work.’ Remaining focused requires being present in the studio and listening to what may come forth. Each piece represents my personal truth. My vulnerability acts as the guardian of my integrity. When the dialogue between the work and myself is complete, the art is then released, the power within the work hopefully becoming a magnet for others. Who I am in mind and spirit endures as my personal pilgrimage and my work stands as an offering.
Cheryl A. Thomas Earth: Campbell Hill Leupp Rd, Winslow, and Fire: Homolovi Accordion Closed
My history began in the windswept desert of northern Arizona, part of the Colorado Plateau, where one finds an amalgamation of space, history and infinity. It is a land of contrast where beauty is found buried in the harshness of the terrain. It was inhabited by Native peoples, some who were migratory; then explored by the Spanish and finally populated by the railroad as it progressed to the Pacific coast. A string of small towns remain along the path of the railroad. I grew up in one of these little towns, Winslow, on the edge of the Navajo and nearby Hopi reservations.
My grandparent’s home was located on “Old Leupp Road” and was situated next to a large red sandstone hill locally known as Campbell Hill. On weekends, covered wagons of Navajos came by on their way to town to shop. As a child this was exciting, a cacophony of noise, colors and animals. My grandmother would give me and my siblings a choice of playing on the hill or in the house. We could not do both. The red dirt was insidious and not welcome inside my grandmother’s tidy house. Most often we chose the hill as it was a magical place, a wellspring of adventures, full of imagined treasures, a place where anything was possible. My Earth… painting is based on this place.
The Homolovi State Park lies outside of Winslow. It is an ancient Hopi village and burial site, a place that was meant to be honored, yet was desecrated by thieves and vandals. Its protection came later. I associate Homolovi with my own life in my Fire….painting which speaks to the devastation surrounding my mother’s death when I was eleven.
Most weekends family and friends ventured out into nature; Clear Creek, Chevelon Canyon, the Mogollon Rim, Grand Canyon, Oraibi, Painted Desert, Happy Jack and Homolovi (although it had not yet been named) and many more. There were also solitary hours when I would ride my bike to a small park by the Little Colorado River and spend hours lying in a huge cottonwood tree.
There is no way to separate myself from the diverse cultures and places of the Colorado Plateau. It is a land that has everything, forests, water, desert, heat, cold, rain, snow and magic. It is a land of canyons, vistas, sunsets and dust devils. All of this is part of who I am and what I create.
Doug Tolman William Waters Are you interested in exploring the topics and themes in this exhibition further? Visit this LibGuide provided by our friendly neighborhood Assistant Librarian (CAL/HON), Tracy Glau.
Glen Canyon 3 Accordion Closed
As a contemporary quilter, I am inspired by the natural world, both near my home in northern Arizona and in my travels. My work is related to nature and landscapes through color, pattern, and design. I experiment with color, fabric dyeing, and texture through various surface design techniques. Images of the places I have visited, and the impressions and traces of people, geology, and nature find their way into many of my quilts. I use various digital techniques to interpret my photographs into visual memories of my experiences.
Glen Canyon 3 is the third in a series of fiber works reflecting on the effects of climate change on the Colorado River. As aridity and drought have lowered the level of Lake Powell, vestiges of Glen Canyon have been exposed and the lake has again resembled the river it once was.
Catherine Eaton Skinner Interplay VIII, Interplay II Accordion Closed
This year marks my 60th year as an artist. Growing up in the Pacific Northwest, my backyard was comprised of evergreen woods, saltwater bays and fresh rivers weaving through majestic mountain ranges. My first twenty years as a professional artist began at Stanford University, where I earned my Bachelor of Arts and Sciences. Oil painting was taught by Nathan Oliveira and drawing with Frank Lobdell. Working and illustrating for the Biology Department began my 20 years of professional biological illustration.
Presently, I divide my time between studios in Seattle and Santa Fe as a multidisciplinary artist in painting, printmaking, photography and sculpture. The thread in my work has always embraced the elemental archetypes of the physical and cosmic world: water, ether, earth, fire, wind and wood. As a mark-maker, I am drawn to the methods used by people and animals to indicate their presence and their relationship to place. Observation of the macro to the micro has allowed exploration of the interactions and patterning of these five elements. This is expressed in my conceptual work through the juxtaposition of various materials: beeswax and resin, graphite, oil stick; glass; lead sheeting and precious metal leaf; textiles and papers; found objects.
The inner soul of an artist is continually inscribed upon by societal and political bombardment during day-to-day images and events, making it difficult to remain in a vacuum. My Interplay series reflects the beauty in layers of color, as well as the chaos of destruction. The shape of the square symbolizes stability and strength, community and foundation. The question remains, how to portray the hope and majesty of our world within the confines of environmental destruction and the new ‘norms’ to which we are exposed. Our foundations created within four lines have become unstable.
The possibility of hope and stability for our world and ourselves as humans manifests itself in our willingness to communicate mending the broken lines between us.
Radius Books of Santa Fe published my monograph 108, which encompasses 14 years of incorporating this powerful philosophical number in many forms and mediums. Over time, I began to feel the limitation of this specific parameter. I then became intrigued with horizontal and vertical lines, and the exploration of their meanings. Landscapes develop with the horizon of water, plateaus and land. Rain, seeps and forests echo the vertical, simultaneously indicating humans standing firmly upright. The earth’s rotation creates currents of water and wind, pushing these lines to move and flow or solidifying them, constantly changing their interpretation.
If you listen, life’s heart and soul will speak. My mission is to ‘do the work.’ Remaining focused requires being present in the studio and listening to what may come forth. Each piece represents my personal truth. My vulnerability acts as the guardian of my integrity. When the dialogue between the work and myself is complete, the art is then released, the power within the work hopefully becoming a magnet for others. Who I am in mind and spirit endures as my personal pilgrimage and my work stands as an offering.
Cheryl A. Thomas Earth: Campbell Hill Leupp Rd, Winslow, and Fire: Homolovi Accordion Closed
My history began in the windswept desert of northern Arizona, part of the Colorado Plateau, where one finds an amalgamation of space, history and infinity. It is a land of contrast where beauty is found buried in the harshness of the terrain. It was inhabited by Native peoples, some who were migratory; then explored by the Spanish and finally populated by the railroad as it progressed to the Pacific coast. A string of small towns remain along the path of the railroad. I grew up in one of these little towns, Winslow, on the edge of the Navajo and nearby Hopi reservations.
My grandparent’s home was located on “Old Leupp Road” and was situated next to a large red sandstone hill locally known as Campbell Hill. On weekends, covered wagons of Navajos came by on their way to town to shop. As a child this was exciting, a cacophony of noise, colors and animals. My grandmother would give me and my siblings a choice of playing on the hill or in the house. We could not do both. The red dirt was insidious and not welcome inside my grandmother’s tidy house. Most often we chose the hill as it was a magical place, a wellspring of adventures, full of imagined treasures, a place where anything was possible. My Earth… painting is based on this place.
The Homolovi State Park lies outside of Winslow. It is an ancient Hopi village and burial site, a place that was meant to be honored, yet was desecrated by thieves and vandals. Its protection came later. I associate Homolovi with my own life in my Fire….painting which speaks to the devastation surrounding my mother’s death when I was eleven.
Most weekends family and friends ventured out into nature; Clear Creek, Chevelon Canyon, the Mogollon Rim, Grand Canyon, Oraibi, Painted Desert, Happy Jack and Homolovi (although it had not yet been named) and many more. There were also solitary hours when I would ride my bike to a small park by the Little Colorado River and spend hours lying in a huge cottonwood tree.
There is no way to separate myself from the diverse cultures and places of the Colorado Plateau. It is a land that has everything, forests, water, desert, heat, cold, rain, snow and magic. It is a land of canyons, vistas, sunsets and dust devils. All of this is part of who I am and what I create.
Doug Tolman William Waters Are you interested in exploring the topics and themes in this exhibition further? Visit this LibGuide provided by our friendly neighborhood Assistant Librarian (CAL/HON), Tracy Glau.
Interplay VIII, Interplay II Accordion Closed
This year marks my 60th year as an artist. Growing up in the Pacific Northwest, my backyard was comprised of evergreen woods, saltwater bays and fresh rivers weaving through majestic mountain ranges. My first twenty years as a professional artist began at Stanford University, where I earned my Bachelor of Arts and Sciences. Oil painting was taught by Nathan Oliveira and drawing with Frank Lobdell. Working and illustrating for the Biology Department began my 20 years of professional biological illustration.
Presently, I divide my time between studios in Seattle and Santa Fe as a multidisciplinary artist in painting, printmaking, photography and sculpture. The thread in my work has always embraced the elemental archetypes of the physical and cosmic world: water, ether, earth, fire, wind and wood. As a mark-maker, I am drawn to the methods used by people and animals to indicate their presence and their relationship to place. Observation of the macro to the micro has allowed exploration of the interactions and patterning of these five elements. This is expressed in my conceptual work through the juxtaposition of various materials: beeswax and resin, graphite, oil stick; glass; lead sheeting and precious metal leaf; textiles and papers; found objects.
The inner soul of an artist is continually inscribed upon by societal and political bombardment during day-to-day images and events, making it difficult to remain in a vacuum. My Interplay series reflects the beauty in layers of color, as well as the chaos of destruction. The shape of the square symbolizes stability and strength, community and foundation. The question remains, how to portray the hope and majesty of our world within the confines of environmental destruction and the new ‘norms’ to which we are exposed. Our foundations created within four lines have become unstable.
The possibility of hope and stability for our world and ourselves as humans manifests itself in our willingness to communicate mending the broken lines between us.
Radius Books of Santa Fe published my monograph 108, which encompasses 14 years of incorporating this powerful philosophical number in many forms and mediums. Over time, I began to feel the limitation of this specific parameter. I then became intrigued with horizontal and vertical lines, and the exploration of their meanings. Landscapes develop with the horizon of water, plateaus and land. Rain, seeps and forests echo the vertical, simultaneously indicating humans standing firmly upright. The earth’s rotation creates currents of water and wind, pushing these lines to move and flow or solidifying them, constantly changing their interpretation.
If you listen, life’s heart and soul will speak. My mission is to ‘do the work.’ Remaining focused requires being present in the studio and listening to what may come forth. Each piece represents my personal truth. My vulnerability acts as the guardian of my integrity. When the dialogue between the work and myself is complete, the art is then released, the power within the work hopefully becoming a magnet for others. Who I am in mind and spirit endures as my personal pilgrimage and my work stands as an offering.
Earth: Campbell Hill Leupp Rd, Winslow, and Fire: Homolovi Accordion Closed
My history began in the windswept desert of northern Arizona, part of the Colorado Plateau, where one finds an amalgamation of space, history and infinity. It is a land of contrast where beauty is found buried in the harshness of the terrain. It was inhabited by Native peoples, some who were migratory; then explored by the Spanish and finally populated by the railroad as it progressed to the Pacific coast. A string of small towns remain along the path of the railroad. I grew up in one of these little towns, Winslow, on the edge of the Navajo and nearby Hopi reservations.
My grandparent’s home was located on “Old Leupp Road” and was situated next to a large red sandstone hill locally known as Campbell Hill. On weekends, covered wagons of Navajos came by on their way to town to shop. As a child this was exciting, a cacophony of noise, colors and animals. My grandmother would give me and my siblings a choice of playing on the hill or in the house. We could not do both. The red dirt was insidious and not welcome inside my grandmother’s tidy house. Most often we chose the hill as it was a magical place, a wellspring of adventures, full of imagined treasures, a place where anything was possible. My Earth… painting is based on this place.
The Homolovi State Park lies outside of Winslow. It is an ancient Hopi village and burial site, a place that was meant to be honored, yet was desecrated by thieves and vandals. Its protection came later. I associate Homolovi with my own life in my Fire….painting which speaks to the devastation surrounding my mother’s death when I was eleven.
Most weekends family and friends ventured out into nature; Clear Creek, Chevelon Canyon, the Mogollon Rim, Grand Canyon, Oraibi, Painted Desert, Happy Jack and Homolovi (although it had not yet been named) and many more. There were also solitary hours when I would ride my bike to a small park by the Little Colorado River and spend hours lying in a huge cottonwood tree.
There is no way to separate myself from the diverse cultures and places of the Colorado Plateau. It is a land that has everything, forests, water, desert, heat, cold, rain, snow and magic. It is a land of canyons, vistas, sunsets and dust devils. All of this is part of who I am and what I create.