Artist’s Talk Opening Reception

It occurred to me a while back that one might say that the preparation for this show began a year ago, but really it began 70 years ago with my first clay class in junior high school in  suburban St.Louis.

The class was taught by a tiny dynamo of a woman who had studied in France and who, six years later told me I was more than ready to go to art school.

And now having the gift of housing the show  at Multnohmah Art Center is a privilege I hadn’t imagined, along with the quite incredible  skills and support of Megan Hatch and daughter Joan, along with daughters Sarah & Julie & sons luke and Eric & the distant support of Christa and Carl. plus multitude of friends. 

For All these things, I am deeply grateful .

This  forty year old center is a unique and rather extraordinary  place- one of the largest and most diverse city-owned art centers in the country  and so very deserving of all our support; in these days when the use of the human hand is surely at risk of becoming extinct..

It’s a place to which  Ray and I have many deep ties.;  we  served on the board here, Ray’s former students have taught clay classes here  for FIFTY YEARS! and of course this is where we said goodby to Ray, though he remains with us in a very real way in these works because our partnership  in art was constant throughout our marriage. 

The exhibit you see here I think of as a celebration of the ordinary and the everyday; of the mingei tradition of unknown craftspeople, and of wayside shrines on country roads  around the world.

I began working in clay at age 12 and didn’t really stop til my last clay project shown here done in 2020 during the Lockdown.

 I didn’t know at the time that I was creating a metaphor of  using ancient patterns to creata new world of balance; as relatives not dominators of the living world around us. Barry lopez wrote that  we are searching for the boats we forgot to build.    I believe that’s what my search has been about.

 the fiber works drew on my grandmother’s mentoring, she was the daughter of a taylor who taught her all he knew…..and when I was four, she began teaching me. .

The form of hooking shown here , I learned while  volunteeringduring the Eighties  to help replace the rugs at Timberline Lodge, 

`that  mountaintop  iconic gathering place of community skill that I suppose now with all the slashing of federal dollars could surely never have been built today

 I viewed the technique as a creative way to make do by strong women in the early days of this country  and likely in many parts of the world with variations to this day .;  and       I have to admit, I  did love  telling people that I was a hooker.

It’s been said by Indigenous people that we are all people of relationships; and these works speak of relating to the natural world as relatives and not as resources. The works in fibers and on paper grew out of my astonishment and love for  the beauty of the natural world, beginning at seven when our family moved to four acres of woods in what was then the MIssouri countryside.

the show is also  a celebration of exploring indigenous wisdom and of shifting humans, as Robin Wall KImmerer puts it,  from the top of the pyramid of life to a place side-by side with all other life . 

It explores that part of the wisdom tradition of indigenous culture in their matrilineal nature, acknowledging the Earth as our Mother and focusing on those family lineages.

Choosing the title for this show; from Afra, my greatgrandmother, to Iris, my greatgranddaughter,  is meant to underscore  that concept… The poem of that title is mounted near the door.

Terry Tempest Williams tells us as we face the imminent  crisis of the unraveling of Earth’s systems, that it’s not a political crisis that is before us, nor an ecological crisis; but  a spiritual crisis.

 For me,  these ideas opened new doors to explore as we search for pathways to help us go forward.

So enjoy looking here, keeping in mind  that this is not really a solo show at all; it’s a partnership exhibition coming out of a lifelong  working relationship to which  Ray and I both contributed our diverse strengths in so many ways

I’d like to conclude  by reading  a short poem I wrote, and some words of Edward Abbey. The poem is called:

Suprise Package

As a child, surprise parties, the few I’ve experienced, were at best unsettling, at worst, ill-timed.

The surprise gift that my Third Age has become for me has turned out to be an unexpected wonder;

opening the gift one day at a time, with each early morning light, when I sometimes remember to thank my body that  I am still able to stand,

the gift reveals itself  as I watch the day unfold.

The operating instructions have come from beloved partner, our children,  dearest companions, parents, and grandparents.

as I slowly advance my place of waiting in line at the edge of the high dive,.

That wait enriches, instructs, and fills the depths of me with gratitude.

                      jbg

and to conclude: with Edward Abbey’s words:

“ we are all canyoneers on this little mossy ship,

this delicate dory sailing round the sun that humans call the earth.

joy shipmates joy!