GroundWORK

GroundWork

How does love grow? In her book BRAIDING SWEETGRASS, R. W. Kimmerer writes, "Breathing in the scent of Mother Earth stimulates the release of the hormone oxytocin, the same chemical that promotes bonding between mother and child, between lovers.”

The second physical element installed in Symbiosis — GroundWork is the base of the living sculpture and the first element of art activism and community involvement/performance art. It is a Valentine's Day activity, a symbolic act of love.

The GroundWork for building trusting relationships begins in the soil. The groundwork we put in place for a healthy relationship with the earth is the same groundwork we put in place for healthy interpersonal relationships: both are full of life, past lives and shared experiences, blended into a rich nourishing future.

Ground

4’ X 10’ X 10’

I contracted to purchase four and one-half cubic yards of native leaf mold compost, rich in beneficial microbes. The rich chocolate brown material was installed in a sculptural pile on Lawndale’s patio. I provided five architectural side elements, two shovels for adults and three sized for children with handles painted the turquoise and violet colors of the physical building and appealing to pollinators. The shovels are both, light-hearted and functional.  

WORK

photo - documentation from the performance.

Nature is often the poetic metaphor of love, February 13th through Valentine's day Sunday from 12:00-5:00, with the perspective of love, relationships and ecology, The Lawndale Art community became performance artists, using the light-hearted shovels they spread love—one shovel of humus at a time—into the sculpture garden beds, building the GroundWork needed as the base for the living site-specific sculpture. 

HE(ART)

15’ X 15’ X 15”

Through symbolism and performance, art GroundWORK demonstrated that the roots of love are nestled in living soil, changing how we think about our treatment of the earth — that treatment is connected to our loved ones' health. Distributing the compost participants sculpted poetic gestures forever embedded in the spirit of the garden.

Despite the oncoming extreme weather conditions of 2021 and the need to stop early due to rain, the event achieved its mission museum patrons and neighbors dug in. I had the opportunity to spread my knowledge about the Coastal Prairie’s important role in sequestering carbon, craft new ideas about urban landscapes and plant seeds for future generations. A neighbor of Lawndale’s enacted a crucial part of the performance. A father who lives in a nearby townhouse that I often see in the garden stopped by while I was setting up. He told me he would be back after he picked his wife up from her chemotherapy. That explained why he was always alone with his kids. He arrived mid-afternoon with his two young boys and dog sporting a cone on its head. Each boy, the oldest nine, picked a shovel and started filling buckets; entranced, they never squabbled or bickered. The father would grab two buckets at a time and proceeded to spread the rich soil mostly in silence. I gave them their space, kept the frisky puppy busy and observed as they worked and the Mother Earth treated their hearts. The groundWORK was heartwarming.

HE(ART)warming

Documentation of the performance

back to portfolio

The day Texas began to thaw, I eagerly went to Lawndale to inspect GrounWork, Symbiosis and create a new piece with the found object bundles of branches. I planned on addressing the extreme weather that brought our state to its knees. Lifting the bundles exposed patches of spring green blades of grass. Hyper focused on creating the new environmental message, I didn't stand back and look. Luckily, Stephanie exiting the building running late for a meeting, yells out, "Are you taking a photo of the heart?" — I stopped what I was doing. I didn't think anyone else could see it. I moved the bundles again, climbed up the fence to get a birds-eye view. Clear as day, Mother Earth, too, had inscribed a message.

I went back that night to capture the piece in the glow of the building's lighting and sunset. The lights never came on. The power outage had disrupted the building's timer. Friday evening, the lighting was functioning; I climbed back up the fence and documented the last inscription in GroundWORK.

The artist- Mother Earth.

E(ART)H

Mother Earth February 2021

15’ X 15’

What should we read into the green valentine? How beautiful and rich life will be when we work in tandem with natural processes.

The reliefs/inscriptions were installed in the garden during the event. Artist and friend Ellen Ray and her husband, Poet Andy Ray, installed the first heart together under the southwest Olive tree. Am I surprised an artist and a poet, married 36 years, with two children, found the most poetic place to install their Valentine’s Day tribute? A place under a tree that represents peace, hope, enduring love.

Planted immediately at the Olive trees’ base is Ellen and Andy’s, big heart. — pure poetry. The ephemeral inscription is already embedded in the garden's history, not distinguishable by the eye. Any time I look at this tree, I will always see the heart of two artists.

Leaving early on St. Valentine’s Day due to rain, the Texas Freeze of 2021 and the energy grid system collapse I took time to document the gorgeous marks left on the concrete. Abstract mark-making draws me in regardless of the weather.

MARKS

20’ X 20’ ephemeral relief

compost of native leaves, mold, horse and chicken manure on concrete.

Sowed with poetry is a scientific component to GroundWork - Under construction

Thawing Out Texas

After discussing Symbiosis with a local philanthropist she recommended I write an informative article about native bees for one of the local neighborhood publications. Thawing Out Texas is the result of that discussion. I consider it part of the installation.

Thawing Out Texas

After our beloved energy city state buckled under extreme weather conditions again —I think we have an opportunity to strengthen our city. 

Your neighbor, I am also a citizen conservationist and abstract-artist-activist who fell in love with Houston in the '80s for its "can do" culture and courage to separate from the herd of national conformity mentality. By diversifying the plants we select to replace the now crunchy brown traditional non-native plants with non-hybrid native plants, we can lead our city and state and change the course of insect and bird extinction. With some of the most gifted creative gardeners in Texas, I trust we can find a way to redefine urban landscape.

In 2017, I started studying the bee situation pertaining to my art and my interest in regenerative agriculture/carbon sequestration in urban settings after learning the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service listed the Rusty Patch Bumble Bee on the endangered species list. The campaign to list a species as endangered is lengthy and complicated. With this system, it is difficult to gauge how many species are endangered. Scientists predict that without pollinators, human life can only continue for four years. A true Houstonian, I love food — with the thought of losing tomatoes and Texas blueberries, I dove deeper into my bee research.

What I learned is the honey bee is great for making honey, industrializing agriculture and growing mono-crops, but for pollination, the bees we need in our neighborhoods and organic regenerative farms are native species. Native bees are responsible for pollinating 75% of the world's flowering plants; they are crucial for producing most fruits, nuts, and berries – our agriculture depends on pollination by native bees. Native bees are not easy to study; most of them are solitary bees living in dead stems, holes in rotting trees, and under our lawns. They cannot be industrialized, so there is little funding to research their habits and needs. They are much like the people drawn to Houston— independent, hard-working, and focused on energy.

Rural areas are highly impacted by the unanticipated consequences of our industrial agriculture's dependence on chemicals that weaken honey and native bee immune systems. Urban bee populations can be more diverse than in rural areas. In cities such as Chicago, Berlin, Berkley, and Melbourne, they have reimagined their greenspaces with native flowers, grasses, and fruits and vegetables researchers finding healthy, vibrant wild native bee populations.

In the U.S., there are four thousand native bee species, and they pollinate over three hundred times more effectively than honeybees. For example, a single female Leafcutter Bee visits 100,000 plus blossoms per day, whereas a honeybee visits 50-1,000. Unlike the honey bee, Native bees do not swarm, are not aggressive. Native bees are perfect for urban population centers. 

I start every morning with a long walk through my neighborhood’s streets and since I became bee-aware, I have seen a dramatic decrease in native bees in our yards. During COVID quarantine, I noticed an even more dramatic drop in native bee and insect numbers. Listening to my favorite soil biologist Allan Savory speak about earth conservation, his dealings with the USDA and activating change, he says that scientists and biologists can only do so much: artists and writers must create the visual images of change. I was already pretty deep in this rabbit hole, so it was not that big of a leap for me to commit my art practice to art activism with a focus on restoring ecological balance in Houston's urban landscape. In 2021 I am installing large-scale, site-specific works, titled Symbiosis at Lawndale Art Center and Endangered Knowledge: The Soul of Humus, for Sculpture Month Houston 2021, alongside Rumblings, a collection of fifty monoprints of wild native bees.

Houston covers 600 square miles of land and has one of the longest growing seasons in the U.S. As it continues to expand across Texas, its gardens must increasingly become a refuge for native plants and animals. With 2.3 million people living in the most vital economic, cultural center of the south, we can become the most critical urban native bee habitat in the United States. 

Here, in Texas's most influential neighborhoods, is an enormous opportunity to change our residential landscape to support the wildlife that is vital to our existence and help mitigate extreme weather occurrences. The latest research supports that to rebuild native bee populations; we need to plant non-hybrid native plants, reduce pesticides in our gardens, including mosquito control devices, and replace artificial ground covers with flowering ground covers. The last twelve months have taught us that we can change. I invite you, my Texas neighbors, to step-up, separate from the herd; use your Texas "Thaw," and speak-up for Texas birds, bees and butterflies.

Left: a photo of a male Xylocopa micans, the Southern Carpenter bee. Xylocopa m. uses buzz pollination essential to pollinate tomatoes, eggplants, and peppers. Honey bees are too small to pollinate these foods. Xylocopa m. prefers to nest in dead woody plants and is not found to nest in building frames like Xylocopa virginia.

Abstract watercolor monotype of Xylocopa m. buzz pollinating in my garden. A detail from Rumblings.

30” X 44” detail 1 of 50 a work in progress

back to portfolio