On Farming



Me helping out the runts, March 2012

I have an interest in soil revitalization.  I didn't realize it until I was living in Hawaii and trying my best to start a garden.  As I plunged the shovel into the ground, I anticipated finding rich volcanic soil, but instead it was grossly depleted due to heavy reliance on chemical fertilizers and herbicides.  It was hard for me to accept Hawaii’s love affair with Roundup, known there simply as "spray."  You would hear spray referenced in everyday talks as if it were a dear friend.  "Spray saves everyone so much work," they would say, including a lot of work for the County of Hawaii that hoses down every single roadside on the island with poison.

The depleted soil was the catalyst for me to seek out the lone organic gardener at the farmer's market, who consequently opened up the world of tropical organic gardening for me. It didn't take long before I learned that severely damaged soil was only one of the issues I had to deal with.  There were also predators with the dramatic name, "Africanized Land Snails" that were golf ball sized numbers roaming the garden in packs.  On the other side of the coin were centipedes that are the length of your hand, that would sting the heck out of you, but if you could get on their good side and give them their space, they would defend your greens.  All this took place on the side of a volcano.  It was like gardening in a fairytale. I wasn't going to give up, but I did need to understand how they all worked together.

I was raised on a farm in Southern Wisconsin, and for the first ten years of my life, it was everything that I knew.  My family and many other families got taxed and zoned out of farming due to the nearby city's expansion to make way for what are now known as "Box stores" and "McMansions."  By the time I was seven years old, I knew the end of our farm was near.  You could read it on people's faces.  I recall many a stoic, weathered farmer advising me to "never marry a farmer."  In the third grade, I had not yet made any plans to marry anyone, but I did know that they didn't mean it; they were just speaking with a broken heart. Those were hard days to witness, as each one seemed to bring another bulldozer to take out another farmhouse.  My brother and I coped by imagining ourselves to be bionic farm defenders that could halt the destruction with our imaginary ray guns. We would at times booby trap the machinery like little farmer vigilantes.  Unfortunately for all, it didn’t halt the city expansion. I often wondered why those old farmers never told me not to marry a land developer.

We grew up and my brother and I were the first generation to graduate college.  I studied business because I thought I should, and then went on and studied art because that vigilante part stuck with me for life.  I used art as a gateway to travel the world.  It allowed me to continue to study natural science and view all experience through the lens of art.  It provided many opportunities to inspire and educate others.  Art became a beautiful way to share my world view.

I made opportunities to travel to faraway places so to make my artwork, but also to simply learn about the world by living as other people live.  It allowed me a valuable education that I have drawn from and continue to build upon every day since. I often just showed up as an extra helper, and by doing so, I was able to have extraordinary experiences like herding sheep with four wheeler in Southern New Zealand, carving out a garden from a 7ft tall nettle forest in Ireland, hunting eels in the flooded taro beds of the South Pacific islands, bring in a Wahoo on a hand line somewhere near the island of Takutea, and rolling up the pant legs to plant rice in terraced fields of Java.  I feel lucky to have inherited my Father’s curiosity for all things, as well as being able to maintain enough of the inner fire that it takes to live these dreams.

In Hawai'i, my art got increasingly influenced by the land and waters that surrounded me.  Many creative ideas appeared when I was digging in the mud or harvesting passion fruit or avocados.  There wasn't a rift between art and gardening; they worked in harmony together because they both were creative endeavors.  I soon found other artists who also loved tending their gardens.  Many were potters who's hen's clucked and picked alongside fired pots and clay faces that peered out of tomato vines. I got to know the bee guy, Connie “the native plant lady,” and I had the bat guano man on my speed dial. I was hooked.

I left Hawai'i to attend to family matters, and soon realized that I was quite lost in New York City in an apartment without a garden.  I made efforts to explore Urban Gardening within our Nation’s largest city. I made a windowsill herb garden, and volunteered my labor at big rooftop farms where I turned giant rows of compost several stories up in the sky.  I became a regular customer at many farmers markets and used the New York Public Library to research sustainable living.  I was interested in solar power, so I took a six week course in green construction.  I learned how to carry half my body weight up the stairs repeatedly, how to calculate voltage drops, swing a hammer and how to seal and insulate a room.  I graduated with top marks in solar electricity and mathematics.  Upon graduation last year, I was hired by the City of New York’s to help train a thousand volunteers on the ins and outs of retrofitting NYC's buildings to be more sustainable.  The program focused on reducing their summer energy costs by cooling the roofs through white roofs, known also as cool roofs.

When this program ended this past winter, I took the opportunity to complete my underwater film project in the cenotes of Mexico.  The cenotes are underground interconnected rivers that supply fresh water for the entire Yucatan Peninsula.  I was able to give talks at science symposiums and give visual presentations about the beauty and importance of our waterways.  The time away from the city gave me the hours of reflection, and the physical distance to evaluate what I would like to occur in the next chapter in my life.  I realized that I am collecting an interesting skill set that includes many areas within the permaculture curriculum, but I could benefit from a more formal course of study.

This week I am happily visiting urban farms, feeding chickens and spring goats.  A friend forwards me information about internships.  My muck boots are appropriately muddied and waiting at the door. I excitedly pour through seed catalogs like I used to do on many a childhood winter day, dreaming about summer and all of the possibilities that my hard work could bring forth. As I sip another cup of tea, I reflect on the words of the old farmers, noting that they advised me never to marry a farmer, but they never advised me not to be one myself.

The Business of Art

I have put myself in the trenches these past two weeks by absorbing a wealth of business training courses that have been available within New York City. It is my intention to try to relay some of that information back to you through the filter of artist needs. I wanted to momentarily look past the arts organizations like NYFA , CUE , or LMCC ,VLA or Creative Capital that supply us with a bounty of information for our careers as artists. For now, I wish to focus on the wealth of general business education that is available to all of us in New York City, and thanks to books and websites, the information has the ability to travel anywhere.

My first recommendation is for the NYPL's Science and Business Library. John Crant is presenting a workshop on resume preparation tonight. I have been able to catch two of his lectures in the past two weeks, and both were filled with valuable information that can be translated into our needs as working artists. Artists use their resumes for many purposes. They are posted on our websites, used in grant proposals, sent to galleries as well as presenting us to a variety of employers. The artist resume is a sprawling beast of 3-4 pages. Crant is able to give some extremely helpful information on how to position yourself through your resume while staying on just one page. I will be purchasing his book as a little present to myself this holiday season. Keep an eye out for other workshops that he will be offering in the upcoming weeks.

On a closing note, I just want to encourage other artists to attend as many career development courses as you can. I have never gone to one that I did not find worthwhile. Although much of the information is directed toward corporate job search. Keep in mind that our grant panels and certainly our potential corporate sponsors will appreciate our ability to effectively communicate with them through the formulas that they understand.

New video posted on website

I have just posted the long overdue video clip from 'Ascension' on my website Filmed in Newfoundland in 2007, the video came to represent perseverance -more specifically strength against adversity.

I also offered up an additional statement about my process which reads as follows:


"My video method transports me to areas that are considered ‘in-between spaces.’ Drawn to the point of convergence where air and water meet, where oceans combine, and deep-seas mix with shallow. These several inches of water are where chaos is heightened. I explore what is just beyond our terestrial boundaries by focusing my efforts in what occurs in under one meter of water.

Rather than trying to control the chaos, I have developed a filming method that records this disorder to its fullest. I have modified a silent scientific camera to give proof to my experience. Short takes paraphrase hundreds of hours spent observing change. The locations themselves are also ‘in-between spaces’ as I survey the Central Park Lagoon and NYC street puddles with the same curiosity that I offer the Grand Banks or coastal Hawaii."

What do we do with what we have learned?

Upon a recent viewing of The Peabody Museum’s Oceanic collection, it struck me that I need to do something more with the knowledge that I have gained. As I peered into case after case, I realized that I could make many of those artifacts myself. Mine would be less refined than a master's work, but I know the essence of the making, learned and lived in the boats, beaches and jungles of many places. After spending fifteen years in and out of isolated island villages, I have acquired a layman's knowledge in the making of artifacts. From mat weaving, tapa pounding, harpoon carving, costume creation, seed work, feather work, pottery, fish hook carving…the list goes on and on. But here I sit upon the fair isle of Manhattan wearing the most unlikely face for the keeper of traditional knowledge.

Something about my nature allowed me into the lineage. I appear completely harmless, I am fearless, athletic, and in their eyes, completely lost. So I become adopted quite readily, and then promptly put to work. My pied piper personality type keeps me in good company in all times, and my young consorts allow me to add amateur linguist to my skill set. I can say niceties to appease all of the tribal elders just in case they stopped by to check on my fern frond costume.

Not only am I a ready gatherer, but I have also been known to display remarkable hunting tendencies. In the past I have displayed underwater harpooning skills, the ability to make a woven grass harness for carrying land crabs back to the village (so they are unable to break your fingers) I can bring a rock fish up a 350ft cliff face without teenage seagulls getting it, I can hold a stone to my chest and plunge to the bottom of the sea to collect clams- without busting my lungs-and so many more useful skills. But what do I do with this knowledge here?

As artists our lives and our work are so intertwined. But right now I feel like there is a great rift between my daily life here in New York and the knowledge filled, more traditional life that I naturally return to when I get away from this place. Artists are not always known for their adventuring ways. Society views artists as urban dwellers, subway riders, cafe sitters. I even know one New York artist who proudly backs this social view by claiming that he will not travel to any place where you cannot buy a proper cappuccino. During my transit to the museum, my seat mate turned to me and said, “so you made it all the way to Boston all by yourself?” Knowing that he had already learned that I was travelling from New York, I decided to let that one go. I made really big eyes and blinked them twice before responding, “I sure did” as I quietly began carving a harpoon.

The Winter Studio

The Science lab that never ends...a view inside my studio

An entire month has gone by once again. It was a productive month full of proposal writing, prototype creation and display. It was a time to gather all things: materials, research, books, and every ounce of wit that I could muster. It seems that all signs are directing me to just keep going forward in whatever increment possible. I find it very easy to sleep these days, drifting off to the sights of new 'creatures' floating above my head. I think I have created the world's scariest mobiles, but to me they are dreamy even if they are

comprised of taxidermy beasts.

The novelty of the sea never fades, nor does my love of objects. I have been experimenting with new textures while trying to be more aware of my simple palette choices. The stark nature of off white bone and shell seems right with the cast away spools of ivory wool. Just as they all complement the clean lines and minimal works that winter inspires in me.

After a big push of work and reflection, it is now time to refill myself with an infusion of culture. Jazz, classical, ballet and even sport are going to fill my mind and heart again after these very long days. I think it is a just reward for having worked myself through the holidays. Maybe my holiday is due.

Entropy and My Personal String Theory

It is now for the third time that I tackle the essay titled Entropy and Art, by Rudolf Arnheim. I was making headway during the first two passes on this small but potent book before I got the idea to give my copy to an artist whose work I adore. I could have left it at that and walked away from trying to figure out the discrepancies in the Second Law of Thermodynamics. I could have read a nice little fluffy novel over the holidays. I could have worked on my languages, grant writing, art production, or plankton research. I could have done a lot of things, but what I ended up doing was seeking yet another volume and I now curse Amazon for this.

Half way through pass number 3 on the essay, I come into a box of string. I should say a giant tub of hundreds of yards of yarns and string. It gave me a great chance to vent on something methodical. I decided that I would begin with constructing a series of totems, then proceeded to en robe that recent newspaper article (where I was misquoted) in several hundred yards of string. I felt quite liberated in the creation of this soccer ball sized time capsule.

As American as baseball and...

All that we were missing now was the apple pie and our America performance would be complete. Strangely intrusive and wonderfully random, I would expect nothing less from the greatest of city parks. I rather like this triangle, mostly because I want to know what in the heck was he thinking?

Oh Canada...

*photo of me in the much warmer Pacific ocean

I feel a world away as I repack my bags for the sixth? time for short hops between locations. I am heading back to isolation and introspection after a short but memorable look at town. Funny thing is that I feel a world away from the summer buzz of town life. People prowling about til four or five are then followed by men spraying the streets down to remove their residue. The town cleans up nicely with many hosers and sweepers happily picking up the remains of the night. It doesnt help any that the messages I receive from home are filled with much the same partying. I cannot even reach anyone since there is a party every night I ring up. I am left with my rather innocent whale and seabird footage and little inspiration to take part in the chaos.

I miss the ocean and the sound of the birds. Entire days filled with nature observations, cooking and art. The town offers distractions, too many it seems, for everyone is running about and I am not sure where they are going. I realized that I enjoyed the two months in the cove, even though the inability to make a phone call, buy groceries, or even have a cup of coffee in a cafe took some getting used to. It isnt so unlike what most of the people north of here have to do for the winter.

I think we are spoiled rotten. It changes your perspective on things when you have to think ahead and buy groceries for the month...or the winter. I have watched artists panic after viewing the options at the 'mom and pop' shop. The die young crowd from Toronto is no exception.

I will be hiding out in yet another cabin, though not as close to the sea. The sea is still visible and my main source of inspiration. After an amazing amount of video, I will be returning to the basics, working with fine silk thread and fish bones. I have high hopes of continuing my writing that I have been avoiding. The camoflage piece will make another surge ahead...
*note to self... work on it please*