The Person Behind the Art: Summer Travel & Inspiration

I’m a professional visual artist trying to get my work seen in the world, but I’m also a private person negotiating the amount of me that I share with that world. My life experiences and unique outlook clearly play into the sculpture I create; sometimes the line between inspiration and output is even clear and direct. I’m not consciously looking for material constantly, but by now I’m well accustomed to ‘paying attention to what I’m paying attention to’- a key feature of being an artist, I think. So I decided I’d share some photos from the summer vacation trip I just returned from with my family, with the idea that it will give a little insight into the things I notice, and why.

My family (myself and my husband Hayden and two sons, ages 15 and 12) embarked on a two-week vacation to visit family, see some sights, and give me the opportunity to see my work in a far-off museum and present a talk there in July. We did some sightseeing in Washington, D.C., spent a week at a gorgeous property on the eastern shore of Virginia with my extended family, toured around Boston, and then headed to Brattleboro, Vermont to see ‘Felt Experience’ at the Brattleboro Museum & Art Center, where I delivered a presentation about the creation of my touchable felt sculpture. Here are a few highlights and glimpses into my brain.

Museums in the Capitol

First: the spy pigeon. If you know me (or my work) at all, you know I’m intrigued by pigeons, particularly fancy ones. When we toured the International Spy Museum in D.C. this specimen caught my eye and my imagination. The taxidermied pigeon with bulky camera strapped to its chest felt so poignant— I imagined the hope and trials of the humans who developed the technology as well as the care and training of a multitude of precious and yet disposable birds. Did you know pigeons have earned more medals of honor than any other animal? The stuffed creature itself seemed rather ridiculous- but it was early in the museum, in the gadget section that seemed to take a page out of Hollywood. Only later did I reconsider the way I characterized the pigeons more or less as tools— after reading through the stories of everyday people as well as professional spies who gathered and transferred little scraps of information to put together a big picture that might save their loved ones in exchange for their individual human lives.

Besides the spy museum we also spent time at several of the Smithsonians. I was impressed by the National Museum of American History’s display ‘Girlhood (It’s Complicated)’ — it’s about time the often-minimized but common experiences of half of the population gets straightforward treatment in a public museum. I even learned some new euphemisms for periods! But after that refreshing experience I ended up feeling beaten down and depressed by the contrast between current events increasingly limiting individual freedoms versus the glowing displays about great strides made by women and other non-dominant humans over the last 80 years. We Americans are a work in progress.

The Museum of Natural History was an overwhelming treat; one could spend weeks there, if one were not responsible for a 12-year-old whose cup of natural history was full after a scant 2 hours. Regardless, I saw some great specimens just made for replicating in other materials, like this starfish whose actual name I neglected to note:

I pride myself on knowing a lot about animals, but I learned something new: that rabbits eat, poop a particular kind of poop, eat that poop to maximize the nutrients they get from it, and then poop it out a final time. Kind of like cows, but without the handy internal system of multiple stomachs. I didn’t take a photo, though. I also learned that my older son is now utterly fascinated with gems and minerals— he took perhaps 75 photos of gorgeous and colorful formations which he showed me while we waited in line to see Yayoi Kusama’s exhibition at the Hirshhorn Museum. Her immersive infinity rooms were almost too easy to love, and I nearly tried to resist the delight they delivered. Then I gave in. The all-encompassing use of mirrors and repeated objects is the kind of thing where it seems so obvious once it exists but, like so much of art, it takes someone to show you something before you can imagine it.

I’m not including photos of the major memorials along the National Mall; they were somewhat moving to see in person, but didn’t capture my imagination after such familiarity. Instead, a final stop museum-wise, and one of my all-time favorites: the Renwick Gallery, which features contemporary craft and decorative art. I took a ton of photos, but here are just a few standouts: first, Large Silver Globe by Rick Dillingham— hand built in clay, fired, purposefully broken, glazed, and reassembled. I love the perfect imperfection, and his quote: “no one is a master of ceramic arts, it’s just a matter of how much you can cooperate with the elements at the time.”

Next up, a wood piece by Connie Mississippi called ‘Midnight Mountain,’ which somehow included use of a lathe to shape laminated layers of dyed birchwood. The shapes achieved really resonated with me. Here’s an overall and a detail view (it’s about 20 inches across):

And this neon piece blinking on and off and filling the room with its pink glow was quite moving as well; it’s by Alicia Eggert:

The ostensible purpose of our visit to D.C. was to expose our boys to the nation’s capitol- since we were going to be so close by anyway. That achievement was unlocked, although it will probably feel more pertinent to them personally as they study different topics at school and take in more of the world.

Family Reconnections/Looking at Things

Our main impetus for traveling to the East Coast was to have an extended visit with H’s extended family; his parents celebrated their 50th anniversary and wanted to get their kids and grandkids together in one place. It was truly a pleasure to interact in person rather than via a grid of faces on a screen interrupting each other. A lush and expansive property on the eastern shore of Virginia near Cape Charles was the site for a week of relaxation, exploration, board games, and reconnecting with cousins.

The Laughing King consists of a huge main house with 5 bedrooms, a separate tiny house, and an airstream trailer right on the shore of the Chesapeake Bay. I can highly recommend it. My family is made up of introverts, extroverts, and everything in between- so staying at the same place allowed us to be together and separate when desired.

I spent a lot of time looking at things while walking on exposed low-tide sandbars and wading through the shallow, warm bay: conch shells, horseshoe crabs, blue crabs, and even cow-nose rays that would slowly flap through the waters nearby, seemingly curious but shy. I find that looking at interesting things is even more satisfying when you can point them out to other people who are also curious. I sketched some of the more interesting skeletonized shells to take note of their swoops and structure for later. Drawing is always so much more informative for me than photos because I’m forced to look very carefully in order to understand, and the physical act of drawing seems to work information right into my bones.

We ended the week on a screened-in-porch as the warm air whipped around us, watching lighting white out the sky as thunder rumbled and branches flew down from a nearby tree. One bolt zigzagged all the way down to the water where it ended in an orange crackling burst and everyone shouted with mingled glee, awe, and some healthy respect for nature.

Boston

Our nuclear family proceeded to Boston for another chance to show the boys some interesting historical places. They were particularly taken by the blend of very old and fairly new architecture. We took a hop on/hop off bus tour to make the most of only one day in the city. My elder son who, let it be noted, likes shiny and sparkly things, took lots of photos of the various gold domes from different vantage points, so I took a series of photos of him taking those photos. I’ll spare you entire collection, as this sums it up:

My kids are at the age that their senses of humor are pretty sophisticated— there’s lots of banter and wordplay— and so we can all appreciate some ridiculously delightful (and helpful?) use of language. Here’s one that will continue to find its way into conversations for years to come, as seen on the exterior of the elevator in our hotel:

When I’m traveling I often find myself speculatively reframing my life against different backdrops: what would it be like, what would I be like, living in this city, or in this rural area, in this kind of weather, in this kind of energy and population? I remind myself that it’s an incredibly brief snapshot into that mysterious what if, and it never hurts when the atmosphere conspires with temperature, color, and lighting to make you rethink the dry, yellow heat of your home turf. I will say I was overwhelmed by the amount of green the filled my eyes on the east coast, and I wished I could carry that with me back to California. Below is the Longfellow Bridge at sunset.

Brattleboro Whirlwind

The final stop on our trip was Brattleboro, Vermont- home to the Brattleboro Museum & Art Center, where six of my InTouch Hanging Pods are in residence until October as part of the exhibition ‘Felt Experience.’ Once we knew we’d be traveling to the other side of the country for our family week in Virginia, I raised the question of including a museum visit as well, and thus the Boston stop was added in with a three-hour drive to Vermont for an overnight. Sweetening the deal was the fact that my sister who lives on the East Coast made the drive to join us, so I got to see her, her two young daughters, and my other niece who was visiting them as well. As brief as it was, it was truly a treat.

If you’ve seen me speak (or seen my recorded documentary about the making of InTouch) you’ll know that I’m pretty enthusiastic about what I do, and I enjoy sharing the stories of what goes into making new weird things with strangers helping you. So I was excited to do a presentation at the museum, and curious to have my family members in the audience for the first time. Although they know I wear a ‘professional hat,’ they don’t often see me perform it— and I was particularly gratified when my younger son expressed his legitimate admiration. It’s not something you get from your tween every day. I’m honored that people WANT to hear what I have to say, and so grateful to hear that they’ve been following my work for years and drove quite a distance to see me. It’s moving to find that the things I create can connect me with supportive strangers. It makes the world feel smaller and more friendly.

The museum itself is housed in what was formerly a train station, and its remarkable architecture works well for presenting artworks. I hoped that my touchable sculpture would be presented in other venues, but I hadn’t imagined such a perfect stage: the raised platform under a skylight used to be the ticketing area, and its window looks out onto New Hampshire across the Connecticut River.

BMAC does an excellent job at sharing and promoting its exhibitions, including complete installation shots and a virtual tour. And, fellow artists, it is a joy to work with the people there. At every step of the way they have been professional, helpful, prompt, and personable. I’ve been lucky to have had mostly highly positive interactions with exhibition venues over the years, but have recently been commiserating with a friend over her extremely poor treatment by an institution. So I’m taking this opportunity to truly appreciate and call out a great one that treats exhibiting artists well, produces strong exhibitions, and gets audiences in to see them!

‘Felt Experience’ highlights work in wool felt by five of us, and you can see images of the complete exhibition via the links above. But I want to share a few standout pieces. First is the underside of a sprawling organic form by Marjolein Dallinga. The form is huge and complex, then as you move ever closer you notice the tiny details of both her design and her craftsmanship. It may take someone who knows how to wet felt to fully appreciate her mastery, but I think even the uninitiated will be moved. And you should definitely watch her film of her work in natural surroundings and animated.

Next, an overall and then detail shot of Ruth Jeyaveeran’s work— to give you a proper sense of its presence. I’m realizing that the satisfying far away/close up nature of this work too is something that turns out to be a theme in this exhibition. Maybe it’s something about the nature of fiber and its textural qualities…

Next up is one of Melissa Joseph’s painting-like pieces in which she lays out and then wet-felts images based on photographs. The movement, distortions, and blending of colors blurs the design, leaving a dreamlike impression not unlike childhood memories. Here’s a link to an interview she did with BMAC about her large-scale pieces based on views out an airplane window.

Finally, I’m delighted by Liam Lee’s needle-felted work, particularly (as a sculptor) his robust, curvy, organic, swelling chair pieces, intensely colored and extraordinarily crafted.

The Vermont stop was the final stage in my summer travel adventure; the next day we flew home with very few hiccups, reunited with our dog, and took a few days to get back into ‘normal’ life. Writing about and reviewing the trip in this medium highlights for me some of the best parts in terms of artmaking. I’m playing catch up with some of the administrative part of being away for two weeks, but part of my re-entry into regular life was to thoroughly clean my studio. After being in ‘observe and think’ mode for a while, I’m ready for ‘experiment and make’ time. Here’s a final photo to encapsulate the trip: a Hanging Pod hug.

Refilling the Well... the 2022 Yuma Symposium recap

I just returned from a speaking engagement at the Yuma Symposium in Arizona, where I presented a slide lecture and demo on my InTouch project. When I first submitted a proposal to speak at the event it was early 2020 and my show had opened 2 weeks earlier; ‘global pandemic’ was not something anyone was talking about yet. Despite the early closure of my exhibition and all the other immense changes we all went through between now and then, I’m pleased to say my presentation remains upbeat. Looking back at all that went into creating multiple, huge, touchable sculptures - with the hands-on help of community members— and looking ahead at the possibilities opening up as a result, I can’t help but focus on all the good stuff. And if it wasn’t already obvious, I like writing (and talking) about the things that excite me.

And that’s doubly true when I also get to be reinvigorated by other artists and all that they get excited about. The Yuma Symposium does that for me. In case somehow you haven’t heard of it, the Yuma Symposium is a three-day gathering by and for artists featuring demonstrations, lectures and slide presentations given by both internationally recognized and emerging artists who “have demonstrated unusual talent.” The founders and a good portion of the attendees have been at this for 43 years; instructors bring their students, some of whom go on to be teachers and/or practicing artists who come back to present on THEIR work. It’s a zany, welcoming, incredibly creative rotating cast of kindred spirits. I’ve gone six times now, and presented twice (with twelve years in between, particularly easy for me to track since my youngest son was just 5 months old when I dragged my whole family along so I could present; now he’s 12!)

In any case, it’s not something I can manage to get to every year, but every time I do it leaves me feeling full of new ideas, admiration for other artists, and eager to get back to the studio and play. It’s torturous that some of the talks are scheduled at the same time as another, so you have to choose between them. I was VERY happy with the ones I got to see, which is not to say that the ones I missed would not also have had the same effect. But here are the other speakers, with a little info on the presentations I attended:

From left to right: Motoko Furuhashi, Tybre Newcomer, Linda Ethier, Linda Christensen, me, Michael Nashef, Roz Ritter, Miguel Gómez-Ibáñez, and Claire Warden.

First up: Motoko Furuhashi, who blew me away with her clever and elegant approach to interacting with the environment around her, from ‘patching’ cracked asphalt with beautiful interventions, to ‘collecting date’ on a space by laying down packing tape along a route to pick up the detritus of life there, and then incorporating it into jewelry. You should take some time and explore the projects on her website, http://motokofuruhashi.com/

Next I saw a talk and demo by Tybre Newcomer, who is ostensibly a ceramic sculptor but is in fact one of those artists who has all sorts of highly developed skills in all sorts of media, and he’s clearly a gifted instructor (he teaches at Spokane Falls Community College). While his talk was partly about building his forms, it was also very much about taking good (better) care of one’s body as a sculptor— the tools and approaches that make a lot of sense— especially after a youth spent assuming his body could take whatever he threw at it. I think a lot of us in his audience found that message to be resonant. Things I learned: a hydraulic cart is a sound investment, and it’s worth looking at the long-ingrained processes particular to your medium to reassess if there are smarter ways to work. Plus it’s fun to watch clay be extruded- pressed into a long, thick, even ‘snake’ for coiling into the walls of his tall sculptures. See his work at https://tybrenewcomer.com/home.html

Michael Nashef is a sculptor, jeweler and designer whose enthusiasm and curiosity are clearly driving forces in his life and in his making. He came up through very traditional jewelry avenues before finding his voice, and his work is evidence of his rigorous engagement with materials and processes, combining hands-on ways to incorporate concrete into delicate, elegant jewelry (yes, jewelry) and 3D printing technology to physically and conceptually support his forms. And I was delighted to find that he’s the inventor of these fantastic saw blade and drill bit organizers I had seen for sale at Penland School of Crafts. See his work here: https://www.nashefdesigns.com/

Roz Ritter is a fiber artist with whom I’ve exhibited in the past; she ‘draws’ with textile, telling stories through the stitched line. Her work is delicate and strong at the same time- her concepts resonate and their execution is elegant. I found her work about aging (embroidering the lines on an oversized image of her own face) particularly moving— as an 80-year-old artist who only came to this over the past 40 or so years, she’s an inspiration. See her work here: http://www.rozritter.com/

The final speaker I saw was furniture maker Miguel Gómez-Ibáñez, who started out as an architect and, in his 40’s, discovered the joys of making things with his hands. I have to say I love the themes that kept coming up about figuring oneself out in one’s fourth decade— it feels so true. Anyway, Miguel’s talk highlighted North Bennet Street School in Boston, where he was introduced to woodworking and a true, supportive community of makers where generations are taught, among other things, the crafts of bookbinding, piano technology, violin making and repair, preservation carpentry, and more. If any of that sounds intriguing to you, check it out. Miguel’s incredible studio furniture can be seen here: https://www.craftinamerica.org/artist/miguel-gomez-ibanez

Sadly, I was yet again unable to be in two places as once, so I was not in the audience for the remaining three presenters. I heard excellent review of their talks, and here is some more information about each:

Linda Ethier is a glass artist whose work I saw in person at the accompanying exhibition. It was breathtaking: delicate arrangements of leaves, bird bones, and eggs- rendered in translucent glass. See more of her work here: http://www.lindaethier.com/index.html

Photographer Claire A. Warden presented her Mimeses body of work which I was also delighted to see in person. The large-scale (24 x 20ish?) photos were somehow created using, among other things, objects, saliva and photo paper. I really wish I had been at her talk to learn more about it. https://www.claireawarden.com/

And last but not least, painter Linda Christensen presented her loose and colorful figure-laced scenes, talking about the role of emotion and paying attention - being a keen observer - of everyday life. See her work at https://www.lindachristensen.net/

My message to you? Make the time to seek out the other passionate people in life who love what they do and make. It’s contagious. In a good way.