Time has puddled, stagnated even during this Pandemic. Has it felt that way to you? Maybe that’s why it feels like I’ve been working on my latest series, “Shaman Ladders” forever. Two years ago I started the maquettes in wood, then I worked them up to a larger scale. Finally, when satisfied with the scale and form in wood, I drove them over to the Mystic River Foundry to be cast in aluminum. There they were at the mercy of foundry time, which has its own slow process dictated by other jobs ahead of me. Because the sculptures can’t be cast in one piece they looked like puzzle pieces when I brought them back to the studio. Then I had to figure out the puzzle, reassemble and weld it all together. I’m on the home stretch now, adding the patina, which is the color process for the metal.
This all makes me think that my creative timeline is getting comparable to elephants, it takes almost two years for a baby elephant to mature in the womb and drop out into the world. At least my process has speeded up to only two years, my last series “Forest Dialogue” took four years to be made. So I’m eager to say “enough”, and get these out into the world and their debut is coming. Shaman Ladders will be part of my solo show at the Lyman Allyn Museum, “Forest Dreaming”. The show will be up from June through October, it will also have other interesting programming around it. More on that soon
This past month I’ve been working in paper mache– I call it my therapeutic diversion for the pandemic. Studio time begins by immersing my hands in a vat of glue solution and papering my flock of chickens. Yes. chickens, funny chickens. Other deadlines loom, like finishing up wood and aluminum sculptures in preparation for a solo show in 2021. But I was losing my focus. So I needed to do these, they are my therapy. They are allowing me to get refocused and back to the “serious work”.
I did a similar chicken series a decade ago, I called them my “Cuban Chickens”. That flock was part of my traveling art installation, “Cuba Journal”. The multimedia installation was my response to the first trip back to Cuba after 40 years. I was born there and my family fled the revolution in 1962. In 2002 I returned to bicycle around the island for three weeks.
The “Cuba Journal” exhibition was dominated by a large paper mache puppet of Castro. He was illuminated such that his shadow filled much of the space. There were other wooden sculptures, paintings, and a flock of paper chickens under his shadow. That show traveled throughout the United States for four years, it went to museums, universities, and galleries. My hope was that Castro’s reign, five decades and counting, might end during that time. Then I would burn that puppet as an effigy when he died. That was a fanciful idea, it would be a cathartic, artistic gesture, releasing my family and so many families from his shadow.
But reality is never so neat as art. Both my parents died before he did. Castro finally died in December 2016, but within weeks Donald Trump was installed as president of the United States. My gut response was that I was not free of dictators in my life. So I put off burning Castro.
After four hellish years under Trump and on the eve of Biden’s inauguration, I’m back to making chickens. Why? Because we’ve been living under the shadow of a president who in other countries would be called a dictator. And like all of his other authoritarian cronies, he’s refusing to leave office. I’m making them because in order to survive the gravitas and dangers of the moment I need to bring up joy, I need to laugh. I need to keep my mental health and immune system from crashing.
My funny chickens are doing that. Dipping my hands in the glue solution for paper mache, whether it’s flour and water, or glue and water, is a really messy business. I get fully engaged and momentarily forget whatever worries are buzzing around my head. The simple, repetitive process of building up the layers of small paper strips is meditative. My mind wanders to more joyful times. I remember being a young mother making piñatas with our two children for their birthdays. What grand messes we would make and what fun we had making sharks, rats, and surreal creatures. I think we finally stopped at age twelve. I also remember being a young artist and making large scale public piñatas for special events. Some of those events almost caused riots. The breaking of a piñata has a violence to it which you can only control with small numbers.
Paper mache is an ancient medium, Though it has a french name which means “chewed paper” it actually originated in China. China is where paper was invented. Examples have been found that date back to the Han Dynasty, BC 200. The Chinese figured out how to build up thin layers then lacquer them to make all kinds of sculptural forms. They even made helmets with it. I don’t know that I would trust going into war with a paper mache helmet. But then some of my pinatas became impenetrable with layers of glue medium and two by fours were needed to break them.
Working in paper mache also makes me think of one of my favorite artists, Peter Schumann, the creator and genius behind Bread and Puppet Theater. Schumann’s material for his theatrical dramas has always been paper mache. I’ve read that his glue elixer includes beer. The large scale collaborative puppet dramas are always focused on mythic stories and on the injustices in the world. His first dramas and protest parades were about the Vietnam War. A few years ago I was able to see him in action on his farm in the Northeast Kingdom in Vermont. He was wearing overalls and a frumpy hat and tending a large earth oven where many many loaves of bread were baking. After the wonderful performance in the natural outdoor amphitheater, our crowd of 300 or more people was offered homemade bread. Bread has always been broken and served after each Bread and Puppet performance– bread to bring us together, bread to bring joy, bread to remind us to share, bread to take us beyond politics.
My paper mache process is not grand like Schumann’s but it is bringing me joy and to the people who are buying them. And something else has also begun to happen. As I clean up after my sessions I’ve started to use the leftover glue and paper to make another paper form, a flat, long, skinny form. It is now ten feet and still growing. It is a red tie.
Yes, you guessed it. My second effigy for the second dictator in my life is coming to life without much serious thought or effort. And this January 20th I will light the match under it. Castro’s effigy can wait a little longer. The last dictator hired, first fired.
These past few months, I’ve had to get into a whole new category of tools in order to do the color on the bronze work. A hand cart and a blow torch have been essential. Color on bronze is an alchemic process called “patina” which combines natural elements, air, rain, chemicals plus heat. There are some ancient recipes that involve burying the bronzes in dirt or peeing on them- all natural – and then you let the air do the oxidizing. The pee recipe would work better for male sculptors, the French sculptor August Rodin instructed assistants at his studio to urinate over bronzes stored in the outside yard.
I’ve done my patinas with common chemicals, liver of sulphur, vinegar, salt, lemon juice and ammonia. I’ve applied heat with a propane flame thrower. To get the flame you have to use an old fashioned sparker and pray the spark and the propane like each other. If they do the flame sprays out forcefully and if you don’t think ahead it can ignite paper, your work pants, or melt plastic containers. I’ve done all of the above and survived. The ultimate goal is to heat up the section of bronze you’re putting patina on to about 200 degrees, then you apply whatever chemicals needed. I’ve had a palette of blacks, browns, reds and greens.
I’ve also discovered that moving bronze sculptures is an athletic effort, steel toed boots and a hand truck are required. Where are those assistants when I need them?
Recent News and Journal entries , September 7th 2011 –
• Women Embodied/ Cuban Women’s Art from Diaspora at Sangre de Cristo Art Center, Pueblo, CO. ends Oct. 15th, panel Oct.2nd read more
• RI Council on the Humanities funds A Natural History Continuum at the Hale House, Matunuck, Ri. Ana Flores to serve as scholar/artist in residence read more
• Poetry of the Wild boxes installed in Mystic at the Mystic Arts Center read more
• Ana Flores featured speaker and visiting artist for Goddard College, MFA Multi disciplinary studies, Port Townsend, WA read more
and the last journal page from Nova Scotia, Aug.22/2011:
What the Bear Knows
It’s the end of August and I’m searching for gooseberries the color of red wine. For a few hours I have uni focus like a bear might have as I forage in the fragmented light and shadow of the underbrush. Hoping not to meet my competitor I trample clumsily over dead branches making enough noise to scare away all wild neighbors on this mountain bigger than me including the mountain lion whose scat I’ve recently detected. When I do glance up from my work I see a sea of broken diamonds and charade of clouds on the horizon. The fluid form and light imprint my soul more profoundly than any snapshot.
I’ve learned a few simple truths while foraging: gooseberries hide better than raspberries. They suspend down below a row of leaves and disappear into shadow. Once found a few good gooseberry bushes will reward you with a quick harvest. Raspberries, on the other hand, hang like rare jewels on display and proclaim, “I’m here”. They demand you chase them across long distances to collect enough for one paltry jar. I’ve pursued both this summer and I’m pleased to have several bottles brimming with the essence of this mountian, sealed and waxed . These will be packed into the car tomorrow along with clothes, books, and my beach treaures for my long road trip from Nova Scotia to Rhode Island. During the winter months back in Rhode Island when I run rather than walk, hustle rather than forage, I’ll slather this liquid poetry on toast and savor the knowledge that the bear and mountain lion walk with and we try to forget.
On July 19th we had our official ceremony to celebrate the Vision Box project installed in Old Lyme Connecticut. The boxes had been up or a good month and getting plenty of public use but this was the official reception, I like to think of it as the “opening of the eye” ritual. In Ancient figurative sculptures the eyes were the last thing to get added by the sculptor. It was believed that when the eyes were added the sculpture was finally filled with life and spirit. Though our boxes were not at all figurative they were about vision–of the kind that has a long view– and all of the boxes do feature the abstracted casting of a large eye.
The evening of the reception was exceptional, the temperature was in the 70’s and the sky was clear, not at all like the steamy weather earlier in the week. An audience of about 40-50 people gathered at the Lyme Art Academy. At the reception hosted by Dean Todd Jokl, we acknowledged all the people and groups who had made this project possible, made the necessary toasts and libations, and then announced that we would be taking a short walk to see two of the boxes located nearby. Thankfully all agreed to the idea and the group began to snake down Lyme street in the direction of Lyme Art Association, our first stop. The artist, Sara Nabel Drought, spoke about her painting featured on the box outside the Association and the history of the gallery and its founding by the American Impressionist painters.
We then crossed Lyme street to walk into the Champlain North refuge where the Barbizon oak is located. The group carefully made its way along the trail of high grass taking us past stone walls and foundations and then turned the wooded corner. In the clearing before us stood the grand Barbizon Oak dramatically spot lit by the setting sun.
We were spellbound by the spectacle. The Oak which had been muse to many artists and visitors for centuries looked like it had been expecting us. For those few magical moments the constant rumble of the highway running past the preserve disappeared. The wood thrush sang out and we were filled with the spirit of the place– the Oak had opened our eyes. And thanks to the vision of the Old Lyme Open Space commission the Oak was still there to work its magic in us.
Upcoming events and notes on revising This Body of Land
May 2- August 2nd Poetry of the Wild/St Louis Fusion
Poetry boxes will be installed in the Central West End and Grand Center Art district as well as the University of Missouri/St Louis campus. Twenty artists and poets from St Louis have been busy collaborating as well as numerous high school students from art charter schools for the latest Poetry of the Wild project, for more click here.
May 20th Cuban Independence Day celebration /Book presentation South Providence Community Library.
I’ll be reading and presenting from my new book, The Island Draws Me, based on my ongoing Cuba exploration as part of a program honoring Cuban Independence Day sponsored by Nuestro Raices. 5 pm,441 Prarie Ave., Providence, RI
July 28- August 1st, Schumacher College, Devon, UK This Body of Land/ An Introduction to Ecological Art with Ana Flores, Peter Randall -Page and Susan Derges
This month I’ve been revising a course I created called, This Body Of Land/ an Introduction to Ecological Art.I first taught the course at the Rhode Island School of Design in 2004 and have taught it at numerous institutions since then. This summer it will be offered as a week-long intensive at Schumacher College in the U.K, a unique hub for sustainable living and education. Their short courses for professionals offer the practical skills and strategic thinking required to face the ecological, economic and social challenges of our times.
In spring cleaning, I happily rediscovered this German woodcut from the 15th century that I had used on the front page of my first syllabus for This Body of Land. For me, “Arteries” says everything about our bodies being a continuum of the natural world. Despite the disengagement many people feel today, I know some people I could metaphorically depict in this way. These friends and colleagues are naturalists, writers, farmers, master gardeners, conservationists, artists, and citizens who are deeply in tune with the natural world around them and stewards of their local geography. I’m sure you know some. I call them earth voices but they are all too rare.
My goal for this Body of Land’s is to reactivate and nourish this magnificent neural network we are born with- like that of the woodcut–it needs no electricity but does need fuller engagement with the natural world. The tools of art and ecological thinking can be instrumental in this re-awakening, I’ve seen it happen. This Body Of Land will be enhanced by the visits of two renown artists who are deeply engaged with the Devon ecology: Peter Randall- Page and Susan Derges. My week long course can be complimented with a dynamic course on creative community engagement the Art of Invitation. Each course can be taken solo and neither course requires participants to have any art background. If you share my interest in ecology and sustainable living I strongly recommend Schumacher, their innovative short courses are taught by leading international thinkers, activists and practitioners. After many years of reading the books of James Lovelock, David Orr,and Fritjof Capra I discovered that they taught periodically at Schumacher. One could take a two or three week intensive with them. In 2008 I had the opportunity to attend a course on sustainable design at Schumacher which was seminal for me. I’m honored to be going back to this inspiring community filled with many earth voices.
Time has puddled, stagnated even during this Pandemic. Has it felt that way to you? Maybe that’s why it feels like I’ve been working on my latest series, “Shaman Ladders” forever. Two years ago I started the maquettes in wood, then I worked them up to a larger scale. Finally, when satisfied with the scale and form in wood, I drove them over to the Mystic River Foundry to be cast in aluminum. There they were at the mercy of foundry time, which has its own slow process dictated by other jobs ahead of me. Because the sculptures can’t be cast in one piece they looked like puzzle pieces when I brought them back to the studio. Then I had to figure out the puzzle, reassemble and weld it all together. I’m on the home stretch now, adding the patina, which is the color process for the metal.
![IMG_0856[2] copy](https://earthinformstudio.files.wordpress.com/2018/07/img_08562-copy.jpg?w=322&h=241)
