An Installation of Visual History
Collaborative
Concepts, Saunders Farm Project, 2011 exhibiting Sept.3 - Nov. 2,
2011
Over the past two years, the United
States has seen record flooding. From the midwest to the east coast,
farmers have lost their crops, roads have been washed out, houses
have been destroyed, and people have lost their lives. In the
aftermath of one of these floods, I had the opportunity to meet and
interview one of the survivors. The story he told was one of loss and
hope, and it moved and inspired me. Though I didn't know it at the
time, it also planted the seed that would become my sculpture, “Flood
Aftermath; Rebirth.”
Not
long after this interview, Collaborative
Concepts invited me to write a proposal for their 2011 Farm Project
at Saunders Farm. I had never created an outdoor scultpture
before, but inspired by the stories still fresh in my memory, I
agreed. I determined to create the sort of nest you find in flooded
areas after the water has receded, a nest made of debris and the
remnants of people's lives. I would weave it out of twigs, and
shelter in its base people's lost possessions:
broken
dishes, lost mail, a wallet with a picture,
greeting cards, rusted tools, toy cars and a baby doll, faded
from the sun and covered in dirty river water.
After my proposal was accepted, my
colleagues and I gathered thousands of twigs from the woods around my
studio and hand washed each of them individually. Working closely
with a metal fabricator, I built an iron armature, and then wove the
twigs carefully over it. Before I did, though, I planted a young vine
in the center of the piece as a reminder that new beginnings grow
from the heart of tragedy.
Perhaps ironically, just days after
completing “Flood Aftermath; Rebirth” and installing it at
Saunders Farm, Hurricane Irene devasted the northeast with heavy
winds and torrential rain. How could any of the pieces in the show
have survived, I wondered. When the storm passed, I rushed to the
farm, and found the sculpture unmoved, untouched, simply a part of
the landscape. Little birds had taken refuge in it. In the shining
field still muddy from the rain, it looked more alive than ever.
As I went from surveying the damage to
enjoying the day, one of the show's other artists passed by. He told
me that even as he'd been by himself finishing his installation, he
felt there was always a kind of spiritual presence with him. He said
it was as if “Flood Aftermath; Rebirth” had a soul. His response
has been shared by many who have seen it since then, with one of the
kindest compliments coming from Erik Arctander, one of the project's
directors, who told me “your art really represents the best of our
vision.”
No doubt, as time and the elements
perform their cycles of erosion, the twigs that I so carefully
arranged will be rearranged and rewoven. The vine will grow through
the twigs and wrap around them, in a sense creating its own, new
sculpture. Through this process of decay and growth, “Flood
Aftermath; Rebirth” will continue to express the hope and courage
of those who have lost all and must rebuild. It will continue to
remind us of a piece of our shared history that might otherwise be
forgotten.
This has certainly been an
experience for me, and a lesson. Thank you to everyone along the way.
