Nothing But Time

The biggest impact the Pandemic had on my art practice was a radical shift in my perception of time. I have always worked slowly and chosen processes that are labor intensive. But the ways that the days unfolded during the Pandemic made me completely lose myself in the smallest details of my work. I have been working with used denim jeans for over five years now and thought I knew my chosen art material well. But with endless time available to me in my studio and no other commitments, I started methodically disassembling jeans and sorting the parts into piles. I started to feel every property that denim possesses, the drape of the fabric and tension in the stitches. I derived great satisfaction from cutting fabric by hand. I could see how each garment takes on the shape of the wearer. Much like an old pair of boots or gloves that crease or fold over time jeans start to resemble the bodies that inhabit them.

The stay-at-home order for Covid-19 gave me the opportunity to review older work and unfinished projects. It’s been satisfying to see prints which have been put away for some time. There are several newly finished series. The handmade books, Hydrospheric Variations, are finished and available in two sizes. A group of mirrored images inspired by the inkblot drawings, Bruce Connor Made Me Do It, is finished. In early 2021, I finished a series of 58 (mostly) altered images of clouds and granite, Daydreams. These had been accumulating and I thought of them as two separate series until I realized they belonged together, both groups as imaginary visions of common sights.

There's a pocket of time between beholding art and the intellect. Each mark, each stroke of paint, resides in a space bounded by thought and pure witnessing – free from judgment. Before and during the pandemic, I couldn't premeditate anything in my work lest my efforts dwindle. The reality of my work exists in the space surrounded by mind and viewing.

My work begins with a visualization, usually a dream or vision of the past or future, even childhood memories. When I paint, I dive into the medium with near-childlike energy. Each canvas represented a new level of freedom that led to the next inspiration. Unlike glass and metal, there were no mistakes, only opportunities. The process was a mutation of sorts, a strange familiarity, or perhaps a familiar strangeness. Artmaking often exerts this quality of transmuting the known into the unknown, rendering the familiar unfamiliar.

In these abstractions, the ephemeral becomes an informant. The paintings are arenas where light, color, and gesture are blended. Their luminosity brings attention to other dimensional aspects, making the unseen, seen. While I have been making art during this pandemic, it has given me the space and my undivided attention to really dig deep and produce. Quarantine is not a new environment for an artist. I feel lucky to be able to work through and hopefully navigate these unprecedented times.

My work represents an inherent connection to this land that is impertinent to our past, present, and future Indigenous generations. I began to create abstract Monotype prints, almost obsessively- constantly pulling visuals of strata and mountainscapes from memory. I found there was a strong need for reconnection to sacred land through the process of monotypes. This process of repetitive making was part of my resistance to the disappearance of my memory of my ancestral homelands in South Dakota. Using symbolism and color as a powerful form of language to share and hold traditional knowledge is important to me. I am interested in how Indigenous relations to storytelling and narrative can look like in the future.

Light, movement, and time are transcribed into the malleable surfaces of my pieces, embodying a tangibility of ceremony and tradition that transcends settler notions of time and space. I look to landscape as a non-static idea, but a dynamic site of cultural practice.

My studio is a place to explore—to examine and evaluate what I find most important in the moment. I try to look clear-eyed at life as it is right now, to think about all that is happening and to allow the world’s realities to coalesce with my own. Then I respond as honestly as I can through my art.

During this strange time - more than a year now - I have been counting my blessings: I am so fortunate to have my art and a safe, secluded place to work. Spending time in my studio is both a joy and a necessity that helps to keep me calm and focused.

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