Freshet

After being frozen in for a few months, the thaw has begun:

Upcoming installations and Exhibitions Spring- Fall 2013

Poetry of the Wild/Avery Point ( designed and curated by Ana Flores)  April 1st Aug. 30th.                                     Eight poetry boxes installed on the University of Connecticut’s campus by the sea. Artist and poets featured are Julia Pavone, Mark Dixon, Susan Schultz, Randall Paterson, Diane Barcelo, Troy West, Ana Flores, David Madacsi, Pablo Neruda, Nancy Willard, Alex waid, Michael Bradford.

Ana Flores/ Earth History: Selected sculptures 1997-2013                                  April 19 June 2nd Alexey Van Schlippee Gallery of Art, University of Connecticut, Groton, CT Opening reception April 19th

Poetry of the Wild/ Mystic ( designed and curated by Ana Flores)  June 15th September 20th,  Poetry boxes throughout town and refuges in Mystic area. Final list of artists and poets TBA.

Ana Flores/ Map Muse, Memory Featured Speaker for Rhode Island Art League Annual Meeting, June 26th, 2013

!0th anniversary of Poetry of the Wild,September 25th Mystic Art Center,  Mystic, Ct. Poetry reading and auction of boxes from Connecticut projects and celebration of the project’s 10th anniversary.

 

Diving Up from the Deep

Recent News and Journal Entry, Oct. 6, 2012 Diving Up from the Deep

•A new solo show regarding Cuba, The Island Draws Me, opens at the Newport Art Museum, Nov 9- Jan 6. more info

•My Hale House / Matunuck residency and the goals for the 2012 season are now completed. A new brand for the historic house, gallery and programming were launched in June and was sucessful in diversifying and expanding the public visitation.  The gallery features artists working with environmental themes. Two exciting shows punctuated the season: Seeing the Sea/Selections from Visual Artist Sea Grant Recipients, and AIR/Works of Kathy Hodge from Artist Residencies in our National Park and Forests.  A catalog is available for Seeing the Sea from Hale House/Matunuck.

and some thoughts gleaned from observations in Nova Scotia, Diving Up from the Deep.

I never tire of watching my summer neighbors. From our porch I observe their surface movements, hear their exhalations, know their feeding habits and can decipher their social patterns. I don’t think they see me if they do I don’t think they’d much care. These neighbors are cetaceans: pilot, sei, and minke whales who also travel long distances to summer in the same stretch of sea in Nova Scotia that I do. Our cabin on top of the hill- built with hand tools because getting electricity that far up was prohibitive– overlooks what the locals call the “ Mackerel hole” on the Northumberland Strait. To the Northwest Prince Edward Island barely breaks the horizon and to the East Cape Breton Island Highlands frame out view. When we first began to summer here these waters were busy with local fishermen trawling for Hake. But two decades ago that all stopped because of depleted fish stocks and now it’s the whales and gannets we see most noticeably feeding here. 

In late August at the end of our stay we were out on the porch for what my husband likes to call “the evening show”.  As the melted orb of sun slides closer and closer to the cold hard line of the sea, the sky painting changes from second to second. No painter could match the subtleties and drama with colors that embrace the full spectrum and so much more. Evening wind and tide patterns ripple across the steely blue water and the dorsal fins of whales stitch across the textured mantle. I imagine the whales swallowing half the ocean in order to sieve their dinner. 

Suddenly there was a great explosion, a splintering of air and sea as a minke whale propelled its massive body and extraordinary tonnage totally out of the water, diving up from the deep sea. The finned gymnast repeated this herculean acrobatics four times as we watched spellbound. Then it disappeared into its underwater realm and our show ended when the sun was swallowed by the sea for yet another day. Having whale exhalations as a part of my daily soundscape during the summer has always felt like a divine gift now I have this act of exuberance, of remarkable gymnastics to ponder. During the long ride home back to the States and as antidote to the drone of the 2012 campaign news dominating the radio I found myself relishing the wonder and mystery of Minke whale’s pirouette, sensing there was a deeper message there. 

I did my reading on Minkes and discovered they are the most lithe and “acrobatic” of the baleen whales. Whales brains are also extremely large for body ratio and we keep doing experiments to probe whether these massive ancients creatures that moved from land back to sea could possibly be smarter than us. One researcher I read says its impossible considering they haven’t produced works of art. And why couldn’t their breaching be considered a form of dance I ask? It is our own limited brain capacity that reduces their choreagraphy to the scientist suggestions that breaching is used to get rid of pests, or to stun prey– possibly play.  Until we can talk whale we will never know. But in the meantime I continue to hold the Minkes’ graceful ability to defy gravity as an inspiration and metaphor. To breathe or to breach–to dive solo into deep waters and resurface with great energy and in doing so reach new heights– that is the question.

 

What the Bear Knows and Other Things

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. 

Unintentional philanthropy

The concert that emerges from our woods at dusk as warm weather arrives can be deafening. First the insects tune up, then enter the amphibians. The call and response of  the Eastern Grey tree frogs makes our corner of the
Rhode Island woods sounds like the Amazon. A steady soprano counterpoint is added to this jungle din by the tiny shy peeper frogs hidden high in trees. Then American bull frogs, their all seeing eyes emerging like periscopes at the edge of the pond, let out staggered belches reminding us of of their important role as chaperones. Songbirds freshly arrived from Latin America and the Caribbean energetically play wood winds. And last but not least the mammals add operatic flourish with the unexpected howls of coyotes or the mating shreeks of fisher cats.

My husband Gabriel created the perfect stage for this wild concert- unintentionally.  He’s a metal smith and since his studio is not plumbed he planned ahead for possible fire emergencies by excavating a hole just big enough for a small fire pond next to his shop. By the first spring we noticed the heightened soundscape. Frogs had discovered the pond and by scanning the numerous floating egg masses we knew that their chorus would grow exponentially each year. More frogs meant more food for a number of other species. A new neighborhood store and concert hall had emerged without grand efforts. It’s now been a decade and we continue to be humbled by how much good this little pond contributes to our ecosystem.

Our little pond provides a good analogy to the Poetry of the Wild project that I began in 2003. The project began while I was Artist in Residence for the Wood Pawcatuck Watershed Association. As I explored  the watershed trails I was distressed by the thoughtless littering I saw and I kept thinking “how do I turn these slobs into poets”? My simple goal became encouraging thoughtfulness in the presence of nature. Eventually I arrived at the idea of “poetry boxes”, inspired by the bird houses that I was also seeing during my walks. I decided the boxes  could be made by diverse community members and inside them would be poems about the natural world. A journal left in each one would encourage public response.

When the first dozen boxes were installed what happened was similar to the creation of our little pond. People began to seek them out, to walk more and explore their own landscapes. Both the volunteers working on the project and I were amazed by  the volume of response and the often poignant and poetic comments in the journals. What had been missing in the landscape was a place for the human thought to coalesce like creatures around a waterhole. Without grand effort or fancy materials, the poetry boxes provided a temporary oasis, a repository for reflection in a public space.

On June 21st the fourth Poetry of the Wild project opened in Mystic Ct. at the Mystic Art Center with two boxes I’d  made to launch it. One features the poem, “Blue Blanket” by Sue Ellen Thompson,  the other box has Pablo Neruda’s poem,” Nace”. This project, the first in Connecticut, will unfold over two years and will include many more sites and participants in Mystic, New London and at the UConn Avery Point campus. This Connecticut series will also include some bi-lingual boxes in Spanish and English. I’ll keep you posted on where and when more boxes get installed. You can also check at Mystic’s Art Center Poetry of the Wild site and follow the public responses. I hope you’ll get out and find them and contribute to the dialogue.

energy these little boxes attract.