I sit with the plant and observe it for awhile. Where it lives, what it does. I put it down on paper. I don't capture it, that's not possible. The drawing is the struggle to tell about it, a terrible tension. It's purely gestural. I want to show that plant or tree or bush in that moment, in that point of its life. And mine. But it's not photographic. It's the feeling of the plant and what I'm feeling together. We have a little relationship.
I swoon over a long branch which changes direction at each juncture of growth. I hear birdsong or the snap of a twig. Fragrances waft in and out. I'm a part of this scene for two hours, nature includes me without hesitation.
I often include a copy block, maybe describing the waning autumn light or the tingling smell of pine. It's just this fleeting little block of time together. I worship at the feet of this flower with the ingenious way the leaf joins the stem, the whorl of petals, the brazenness of the stamens, the intensity of color.
We walk past them listing in a plastic bucket of water in the grocery store. We buy a dozen red roses for Valentine's. We hold a bouquet as we walk down the wedding aisle. But they are living things. Perhaps you will see them in a different way.
I also create imagery that reflects my reverence for the natural environment. My homage to the Whitebark Pine “Ghost Trees” from my artist-in-residency at Crater Lake National Park, fall 2010, documents the disappearing pines, victims of climate change, bark beetles, pine rust, reduction in snowfall and the departure of Clark’s nutcrackers which are primarily responsible for the dissemination of their seeds.
I employ design, drawing, illustration, beading, sewing, twining, folding, paper manipulation, graphite, letterpress, colored pencils, sculpture and many other mediums and crafts necessary to promote ideas.