Poppies and Patricia: Sourwood Forest, June 2024
Poppies. The Fancy Poppies, as I call them, not the smaller, orange kind that grow on roadsides (though we do have a few of those around, too). These are descendants of one packet of seeds a friend shared with me about ten years ago. They come up in various places every year. When the weather is right (cool nights, not much rain, as it was this year), they are a grand feature in the late May and early June yard. Patricia Wallbertson, our June resident, was lucky enough to witness their fantastic transmutations from bowed bud to erect open bloom to petals falling and seedhead emerging. Each day she’d spend time visiting the poppies in the yard, watching their process of becoming and unbecoming. She would stare at them, draw them, later adding textural paints she created using some of the soil from the creek or yard. Patricia was impressed by the diversity of forms, textures, and ecological processes happening all over– from poppies in the yard to decomposing logs in the woods to the shadows, light, and moods of Melody Creek. She was interested in soils, the decomposition process that they embody, their differences and the way in which they define a place. She surprised me by how much she delved into the opportunity to connect with the environment specific to this place. She seemed to let it guide her process rather than her being driven by preconceived ideas or abstract intentions about what she wanted to make happen. One of the pieces she made here is gradually merging into the front yard: a clay human figure prone on the ground with hands outstretched holding onto string. The strings stretch up to a redbud sapling about three feet above the small body, and their ends attach to a piece of clay- stained cloth. The cloth is the one Patricia had between her hands and the clay as she molded the body’s shape. The image left on the fabric seems a sort of apparition of the body’s creation. We enjoyed talking about what meanings this combination of form, string, and cloth might offer a viewer. I imagine the clay figure as a man prostrate in a kind of prayer, as if he sees the image of his own creation and thinks it is the face of God. The clay-stained cloth is an idol he worships as it flutters in the… Continue reading