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BREATHING CHAPARRAL | JOURNAL

 

Inhaling steadily, exhaling gently into the fieriness of developing Manzanita skin and glistening like Mountain Mahogany. 

Hi! I'm working on the final preparations for an upcoming, in-person, event that I'm excited to share with you.


This Sunday, February 9th, I will have the opportunity to showcase my artwork with my friends at Baum-Kuchen. I will also be joining Emil Konishi for the discussion portion of the event from 11 am to 12 pm. Together we will explore topics related to the artwork and natural ink making process — this portion requires an RSVP. Following the discussion, there will be a reception that is open to all walk-in guests, during Baum-Kuchen's regular shop hours, from 12 pm to 5 pm.


If you would like to find out more, Wakako at Baum-Kuchen, has written a wonderful story on substack that weaves together the threads of our collaboration.


I'm grateful for Wakako, Emil, and the team at Baum-Kuchen for their support and providing a beautiful place for this event. Looking forward to seeing you there!


 

Artist Showcase & Panel Discussion at Baum-Kuchen

Sunday, February 9th

11am - 12pm - Artist/Designer discussion with Jen Herzig Smith and Emil Konishi (requires RSVP)

12-5pm – reception


Baum-Kuchen

2351 Lincoln Avenue

Altadena, CA 91001

(626)240-9817






I’m excited to let you know that my work is in two locations for the Terrain Biennial, running from October 1 - November 15, 2023. The first, is a project that’s been simmering for a while. I’ve been spending time in an alley near my house, it’s a gap like many gaps in Los Angeles. It’s a passageway for coyote, skunk, opossum and people. Elderberry, Mountain Mahogany, and Peach hang over the fence providing food and shelter for birds, squirrels and rats. The soil that gathers on the concrete wall under the Elderberry creates the nook for ants and spiders to do their work. When it rains, the water flows to create a creek that runs to the drain near the street. To witness the tenacious California Morning Glory coming up through a few inches of soil, despite the concrete underneath, is humbling.

I’ve written three poems that are engraved on brass metal plaques and mounted to the fences. The poems acknowledge the beauty of this place. They have been created with gratitude and respect for the Tongva and their care of this land over many years past, present and future.

MINDING THE GAP in Los Angeles, California

 

The second is artwork that is part of a collaboration with myself and two Wales-based artists, Roz Moreton, and Siân Barlow. In the last few months we have been on Zoom calls with each other in drawing sessions led by Roz Moreton. Many of the self-portraits shown in Terrain were created during, or inspired by, our sessions together.

For Terrain, we are hosting one another's self-portraits outsde in front of our homes. By hosting one another's self-portraits, we are acknowledging that our conversations act as mirrors, and that the conversations and the connections we have made with one another hold meaning. These recent years have felt like civilizational thresholds, as well as personal thresholds in each of our lives. Engaging with kindness, and being witnessed by each other, we have been able to move towards seeing ourselves with more clarity.

We are inspired by these words from Audre Lorde: “The quality of light by which we scrutinize our lives has direct bearing upon the product which we live, and upon the changes which we hope to bring about through those lives”. Audre Lorde, Poetry is Not a Luxury (1977)

It is in the long work of self-scrutiny that we can find the deeper material of our dreams, our fears, our desires; and can see clearly our own pain, and within that pain our beauty. And through this work we are gathering courage, to find ways forward both in our work as artists, and in playing our part locally to bring about positive change in our communities. MIRRORING in Wales, Uk and Los Angeles, California

Roz Moreton self-portraits on display at 13 Furnace Terrace, Pontyberem, Llanelli, Carmarthenshire SA15 5AE, Wales, UK Roz Moreton is a Visual Artist living and working in Carmarthenshire. Her health issues including chronic migraines, Ehlers Danos Syndrome (EDS), and her neurodiversity influence how she approaches her creative practice. Exploring elements of the emotional and the physical, she observes, records and captures the human imprinting of our natural and man-made landscapes. Instagram: @rozmoreton


Siân Barlow used to work as a healthcare advocate, more recently she's changed direction and become an artists. She makes work about how we are, and how we could be, preferring to ask questions, leaving answers open. Instagram: @sian_barloww

And my own self-portrait.

  • May 26, 2023

It’s Thursday and I’m alone at the art gallery that’s connected to the library. I’ve just returned some books, picked up a few books and made my way into the show. I’m impressed at how much of the wall space isn’t used, the way the light streams in, and how high the ceiling feels on this particular day. There are two video artists that draw me in before I make my way to the front door. As I approach the door, my hand starts to pull the large metal handle, the bird slams into the glass, bounces back into the air, lifts their body up and spirals over the roof. My breath goes in and I hold it while I watch their body hurling. Both of us stunned and one of us, possibly, very badly hurt. My eyes focus on the building, it’s made of white painted concrete and a lot of glass. Walls turn into windows that turn into more walls and there’s a glass door, propped open, that leads to an outdoor courtyard with the sculpture of a large black head on a pillar. I exhale. If designed right, this open door could be the way in for this bird. And out. I mean a door for this bird, if they wanted, to join this someone, who’s alone, in the gallery connected to the library. And maybe they would sit, taking in the art, chatting in a way that only this bird and this person can. Or quietly, together, watching the video of an artist stitch words into a long cloth on a mountain. Or maybe they would take to the wide open floor to move their bodies, without shoes, in the sunlight, reminding each other that it’s going to be ok. In the way that only this bird and this person can.


Bird in the Glass : 6 x 6 inches : nettle and oak gall ink that will fade, May 2023

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