“These Grand Places” was prompted by seeing a list of federally protected public land to be reviewed for de-regulation under the former Administration, published in 2017. My heart ached when I saw many beloved places I had spent time upon.
Toned cyanotype contact prints from 4×5 black and white film negatives.
Ziatype from scanned 4x5 film negative. I had begun this project informally, looking at how both myself and others use the land we live on. Transcending simple conclusions, the following questions guide me: “Are we loving our public lands to death? What do we return? Who is welcome?” What is meant by “public” land and how do we define “national identity”?
I had been working out of the back of my car or a backpack and tent, and felt the limitations of not having dedicated space and facilities for extended visits. In the spring of 2019, I received a Grand Challenge Seed Grant (University of Wisconsin-Madison) with three major aims: build a mobile research studio (MRS) favoring sustainable energy sources, develop a methodology to gather material, and travel to urgent sites under review. Due to the COVID-19 pandemic, I had to pause, but by late 2020 I modified a 20’ travel trailer into a live/work space powered by solar panels installed on the roof.
toned cyanotype contact print from 4×5 film negative
Toned cyanotype contact print from 4x5 film negative
This project builds on lifelong concepts in my work on place, belonging, and the care with which we move through the world as artists. Through deep engagement and time spent on site, “These Grand Places” uncovers the complexities of the current geopolitical and environmental moment, while also illuminating the beauty of public lands.
One landscape image looking at human activity from afar.
Considering the history of the colonizing lens of photography, and in response to the request to protect and honor the place of Bears Ears, I’ve been ruminating on how to show this place without dominating it, or revealing locations of special sites that have been prone to vandalism and abuse by others who do not agree with its protection. In my current iteration, I am sharing stories and vignettes.
Unique cyanotype made in situ, 21”x 20”. A rigorous hike to an ancient sacred dwelling.was profound, a deep marking of existence across human, geological, and celestial time. It is dark on my drive back to camp, and I strike an owl flying across the road. The islander in me feels the omen of such a killing, and I weep at the death of a beautiful creature by my careless actions. I bring the nightjar home to camp and in the morning sun honor its life through making a memorial imprint, a cyanotype.
The wind picks up and the clouds form over the Bears Ears. I point my lens to the sky, then quickly pack up camp to leave before the storm arrives.
On a four-day solo backpack, I walk a length of the Esclante River, which feeds into Powell Reservoir.
I look, listen, write, and make cyanotypes and photographs.
On a walk on my birthday, I photographed lost objects revealed along the receding shoreline of the shrinking reservoir at Lake Powell, Glen Canyon National Recreation Area.
Artist’s book of archival pigment prints, 4”x200”Exploring place through a typological approach, the artist book provides a visual form for mapping a walk.The book contains twenty images of detritus, exhibited as a continuous line in the form of an accordion book (150 inches long).