How “Seeds of Change” Came to be
A shelf in my studio, with some of the books that inspired Seeds of Change.
I am a reader, and much of my work is informed by my reading — everything from Emily Dickinson and Dylan Thomas to Carl Sagan’s Cosmos and Robert Macfarlane’s Underland.
Like most of us, I have been deeply concerned about climate change. Reading The Human Age, by Jane Ackerman, I began feeling less hopeless and thinking more about the varied possibilities for the future of the planet. Yes, we were making a mess of things, but there are still some possibilities for change.
Other books on my nightstand in the past year or so have deepened my feelings about the environment. These have included Braiding Sweetgrass, By Robin Wall Kimmerer; Sacred Nature, by Karen Armstrong; Islands of Abandonment: Nature Rebounding in the Post-Human Landscape, by Cal Flyn; I Contain Multitudes, by Ed Young; and strangely enough A Field Guide to Rock Art Symbols, Alex Patterson.
I am also a walker. After living for many years in the shadow of New York City, I now live in a quiet coastal town in Massachusetts, where I am free to wander across beaches and alongside small family farms marked out by stone walls from previous generations. It is on these walks that I have time for my mind to wander. The books I read and the views of the land and sea around me became a hot mess of thoughts, stirred around until I felt compelled to create something new.
It was in this mindset that I first visited Pleiades Gallery, where the exhibition Seeds of Change was presented March 21 - April 15, 2023. The building’s entrance stands less than 500 feet from New York City’s High Line. As a walker, of course I made a pilgrimage to that unusual public park.
This elevated rail line had been unused for decades. Some sections had been torn down, and the rest of it had been threatened with demolition. But nature had other plans. Largely abandoned by humans, seeds were scattered by the wind and birds. These sprouted, grew, and created a hidden landscape of native plants and wildflowers. Then the humans stepped into the scene — in the right way for a change.
A non-profit conservatory was formed. The wildflowers were tended. Many more native, drought-tolerant species were planted. An ecosystem that supports wildlife and encourages pollinators flourished. Everything about this now public park has been done in a sustainable and environmentally thoughtful way. It has become one of the most magical public places in the city — and it offers hope.
That’s what these paintings are about: Seeds of Change. Hope. And transformation.
The visual concepts behind the art were influenced by my years at the Montclair Art Museum. Listening to then Native American Curator Twig Johnson, talk about petroglyphs sparked an interest that has lasted for decades. This interest expanded into research about Druid and other pagan rock cravings. I found these early works endlessly fascinating. It seemed to me, that like the cave painters, these artists were intimately in-touch with the natural world — something that we 21st century Americans are sorely lacking.
And so, in a nod to those far distant ancestors, my paintings use symbols and imagery that reference those ancients, but are of our time.
I am experimenting with ideas of depth on the canvas. Most of the works are devoid of a classic horizon line and avoid using Eurocentric perspective with classic vanishing points. In the smaller works, shapes and symbols merely float on the surface. Sometimes you may have the sense that you could poke your fingers into the paint and move them around. What comes to the front and what recedes depends on color and crispness, and feels slightly mysterious.
The exhibition included 25 acrylic paintings that tell the story of the hidden possibilities of change within the earth.
It's a story of hope
Want to know more about Seeds of Change? Read the curator’s essay here. See the paintings on Artsy here.