Star & Snake Art Residency | Center Harbor, New Hampshire

It’s been two months. Still basking in the glow of the talented humans whom I had the pleasure of working alongside, as artist in residence at Star & Snake, in Center Harbor, New Hampshire. For two weeks, I made art and was lodged in a reclaimed, turn of the century Catholic church — currently transforming into an inspirational space for retreats, events, and artist residencies.

The return home left me disoriented, in slight withdrawal from the regenerative, dream-like time spent there. Those moments have nonetheless reaffirmed and enriched the perspective that I have on my art/land practice, to which all fuel collected from the residency will undoubtedly be added.

The residency was an opportunity to slow down, and settle into a creative rhythm where rest, reflection, receptivity, and intuition could be made daily priorities. The result was uninterrupted focus, channelled into a series of interdisciplinary watershed studies. The energy invested will flow into a solo show at the Mississippi Valley Textile Museum in Almonte, Ontario in two years.

I came to the residency with a desire to communicate with/about our human relationship to water. Specifically, to invest some energy into my own ties with the essential element. This took the form of research, creation and experimentation for the upcoming museum installation, which will pay homage to the role the power and presence the water has had on the Rosamond Woollen Mill, the fleece industry, and its’ Irish settlers over the last century. The water around the historic Rosamond Mill at the Mississippi Valley Textile Museum site, as well as the Mississippi River Valley’s watershed will be incorporated, and re-interpreted for the exhibition’s interactive and immersive installations, (which will include mapping, drawing, time-lapse video and a series of educational and inspirational talks).

I’m looking forward to visiting the Mississippi Valley Textile Museum, its’ curator Michael Rikley-Lancaster and staff (where I’m headed tomorrow), to check out the space and to discuss the ideas that are brewing.

The residency began mostly in drawing: focused on a study of topographical maps of the Mississippi River Valley region. It then grew into an interdisciplinary series focused on the area’s watershed. Serpentine, organ-like lines were repeated obsessively, and experiments ranged from living seed on tapestry, to paint and charcoal on paper, to collecting lake water and plunging into an icy waterfall.

I became engaged in a dialogue with water on many levels. Over the course of the two weeks, the water work gained increasing form from the inspired conversations shared with co-residents K, Meesha, William and Natan. Rare books from the Star & Snake’s library were gleaned, as I absorbed various mythologies, folk customs, and stories about water, its’ creatures and deities throughout human history. So too, nestled into my brain thanks to Google maps, was the data marking out all the watery places I’d travelled through and walked to: local brooks, creeks, dams, waterfalls, and lakes. The maps located me just enough to recall the scale of my absolute human smallness in the context of these fantastic, larger aqueous bodies.

Then, there were the moments at night, where, upon closing my eyes I could see only water. I couldn’t help but to dream it. It was around this point, that something shifted. My work took on a significance broader than any one specific place or group of people. A universal relationship to water had been established, seemingly outside of time, free of language, anchored by ancient line and form, remembered through sound and season. Water had begun to inhabit me.

The drawings, map studies and repetition of lines as two-dimensional works not only reinforced the impression of the waterscapes within my psyche and upon the paper, but demonstrated the parallels that water bodies have to human constellations — the social connections tracing us to our collective/respective watersheds, and situating our bodies within the larger schema of water in the world.

Watershed, I, a time-lapse movie of a human-scale, living tapestry, documenting seeds growing into a river, upon burlap. This was watered daily from the shores of Lake Winnipesaukee. Shortly after, sprouted manna bread was made with the leftover wheat berries — breakfast for the better part of the week for a couple of us.

Paper (sheep) pelts to pay homage to the fleece industry at the Rosamond Woollen Mill.

On the first evening, to ground and orient myself to the space, I made a circle on the floor of my studio space with baking soda, something I had on hand. A beginning process, creating something from nothing. I had been reflecting on the role of chaos in life from a book of essays by Hakim Bey: “Both as ancient myth and as ‘new science’, chaos lies at the heart of our project. […] Before all kings, priests, agents of Order, History, Hierarchy, Law. ‘Nothing’ begins to take on a face — the smooth, featureless egg or gourd, chaos as becoming, chaos-as-excess, the generous outpouring of nothing into something. In effect, chaos is life. All mess, all riot of colour, all protoplasmic urgency, all movement — is chaos. From this point of view, Order appears as death, cessation, crystallization, alien science.”

Working with seeds and incorporating their growth cycle into my work mirrors Bey’s take on accepting chaos as part of the creative process. Thanks to water, the seeds awaken with a force of their own and unleash a momentum that I cannot entirely control. The work is bigger than me. Born from almost nothing, they become powerful, messy, alive. I have set into motion a creative energy that I’m forced to keep up with. Seeds progress fast.

Within the circle, the stage for their growth cycle had been set. Fellow resident William Kiesel describes the circle as a “symbol of the totality of existence […] The circle also implies the center and thus the idea of radiating outward or expansion”, including its’ ability to “exhibit qualities related to navigation and orientation.” He goes on to say that the circle “in and of itself implies eternity, without beginning or end, whereas the square delineates the divisions of the quadrants into the well known directions East, West, North and South.” – W. Kiesel, from Magic Circles in the Grimoire Tradition. (Emerald City: Ouroboros Press, 2015. p 21-23).

Art’s proximity to life feeds into my practice, and infuses my world. I follow the media that suits my expression, navigating between installation, land art, time-based media, drawing or writing — a final object is rarely emphasized, while a series of encounters is. Encounters that cultivate relationship and dialogue between art, audience, environment and artist. A place where co-authourship over sole authourship is favoured, where the work, creator and participant are intertwined, and where creative agency is shared as much as possible. I would like for the result of my work to open a broader cultural dialogue, provoking action and gathering people around the subject of our relationship to the natural world and the territories that surround us. Much of my work is about getting to know our surroundings, including the places and the human histories that we are inextricably a part of (belong to, owe our lives to). It is a growing awareness I cultivate in the face of future industrial development and climate changes affecting all our lives.

“..and all her prayers were as water crystallized, made solid & real.” – Meesha Goldberg

The first few days began with drawing, and painting in watercolour. The translation of technical, topographical tracings evolved to freestyle colour, and each process helped me to understand the landscape around the Mississippi River Valley watershed, as well as grasp the degree to which the bodies of H2O are interconnected. Like humans. How small we are…and how powerful we are as one.

I collected water with Meesha from Lake Winnepesaukee one morning, and decided I would begin each day this way: building, reinforcing and deepening my ties to the waters around me, while watering and nurturing the tapestry into form, one walk at a time.

Topo details have always been a delight, yet being in the presence of their paper terrain for such long periods required that my eyes constantly adjust. The positive and negative spaces of land and water were often confused.

Ophidian family: ink of star and snake mark collective skin with the memory and experience of the time shared. K drafted a series of sketches, some of which were adapted, and Natan did the ink. These archetypes, under skin, remind me of the liminal place between soil and sky, to accompany voice, vision, work, and to anchor an intimacy with these touch stones that help me to recall my true North.

“In beauty we are united, through beauty we pray, with beauty we conquer” – N. Roerich

One evening, after putting the seeds to bed, I pulled up a podcast of Martin Prechtel, discussing his newest book on grief and praise. He talked about how seeds grow and how they don’t preserve well unless you keep growing them. Keeping them in the bank is not always the most viable solution. He says: “like culture, seeds need to be constantly re-planted, re-learned, re-understood, and constantly loved and taken care of and eaten by the people, otherwise they atrophy, just like the culture atrophies.”

I spent my whole time here letting myself sleep in and dream, with no distractions from alarm clocks. This residency has been an amazing opportunity to spend time on several significant life projects that have been slowly finding their form.

Star & Snake’s library equally inspired me to consider the influence of folk culture on my work with earth and water. Perspectives from peasant life and Indigenous societies emphasize the spiritual value of living in direct connection to these elements. Through experience, and in listening to the information that comes through the soles of our feet, the palms of our hands, and the seat of our pants, we gain strength and perspective on our role in the world. Mythology and multicultural lore can re-enchant, keep poetry alive in the way earth and water can be addressed, contributing more layers, body and depth (ie: I took note to research Ceres in reference to the wheat that continues to re-emerge in my installations, and Oannes in reference to water).

Thanks to two extraordinary artists, and gracious hosts, K Lenore Siner and Natan Alexander who have devoted the past two years of their lives to transforming this site into a container for creation, study, and reflection. The co-created dream they are making more real with each passing day — and for all of us who pass through these doors — does not go unnoticed, and gives us all an opportunity to take things ever deeper. 

Thanks co-residents, the two other participating artists, Meesha Goldberg​ and William Kiesel​ for supremely rich, thoughtful, and productive company. What an awe-inspiring group. I do hope to cross paths with you all again soon.

Last sunset. I was sad to go, but am looking forward to the new life that will come from the space we created here at this inaugural residency.