Posts Tagged 'willows'
Posted in Death, Dreams, Family, Growing Older, Holding My Breath, Life, Love, Personal, Practice, Relationships, Seasons, Secrets, Spirituality, Topic Writing, Wake Up, Writing Practices, tagged bearing witness, coming to terms with our own death, different aspects of death, finding our way around death, spirits, spirits in trees, standing vigil, weight of the Soul, willows, writing about death, writing about trees, writing practice on August 6, 2019| 2 Comments »
When my brother died last January, I started to walk the willows. It wasn't until late July that I read our ancestors planted willows for the Dead. And if the branches form a shadow large enough for a grave, someone will die.
My brother was 60 years old. He had a chronic illness that finally got the best of him. There is something sad about a winter willow. In spring, their branches fade into yellows, ochres, and fluorescent lime. Rebirth.
At 8:35 p.m. my mother told me she felt my brother passing and started to cry. By 9 p.m., he was gone. She was miles away. She has the sixth sense. As kids we knew we couldn't lie to our mother. She recognized the truth on a level we did not understand.
Now I understand. Because I have the sixth sense, too. An empath. Some call it intuitive. Maybe we all have the Gift. But some are more comfortable with it, push it further. You have to suspend disbelief, trust yourself, open to whatever may come.
I woke up this morning with a story in my head, a story about willows. Liz's mom came into one of my dreams. She is 82 and transitioning in a small western town in Wyoming. We drove 1000 miles to visit her for ten days in May. It was the most intense ten days of my life. Spirits hovered in the air waiting to greet her on the Other Side. It didn't matter if you believed they were there or not; every night they returned. Guardians, Angels, and people who had already passed, for better or for worse. Liz, her nephew, her sister, and I stood vigil. We banished those spirits who were not there out of Love.
Love. It's about love in the end. And respect for those who have come before us. If you believe there is good and evil in the world, the Willow protects.
When I was a child of eleven or twelve, we moved from the Deep South to Pennsylvania. My new grandparents had a mature willow in their backyard that butted up against a cornfield. I would swing on the branches at a time when they were strong enough to hold the weight of my body and bones.
There is something I learned about Death this year: the Spirit has to bend, and be strong enough to hold the Soul's weight.
NOTE: 10 minute handwritten Writing Practice on WRITING TOPIC — WILLOW, the latest Writing Topic on redRavine.
Posted in Nature, Photography, Place, Practice, Seasons, Skies, Topic Writing, Writing Practices, Writing Topics, tagged creative process, Death as a new beginning, grief, letting go, loss, Minnesota Landscape Arboretum, mythology, photo practice, the practice of writing, trees, value of trees, videography, white willows, willows, writing about trees, writing practice, Writing Topics on August 4, 2019| 1 Comment »
Wind in the Willow, April 2019, iPhone Video, Minnesota Landscape Arboretum, Chaska, Minnesota, video © 2019 by QuoinMonkey. All rights reserved.
I am drawn to the nurturing willow, especially in times of loss or grief. The willow was sacred to Hera, Hecate, Circe, Perspehone, and all goddesses of the Underworld. In Celtic mythology, the willow represents death and is good for magical work involving the dark or hidden parts of the psyche. The weeping willow is a common sign of mourning and offers protection for underworld journeying and rites of passage. Willows represent immortality, creativity, inspiration, emotion, and fertility and are known for their ability to regenerate from a fallen branch. They have been used to bind brooms and divine water. Have you heard the wind in the willows?
Do a ten minute Writing Practice on the topic of Willow. Or you can write a haiku, poem, or do a photo practice on Willow. Drop your photo or practice into the comments here or link to your blog. I have learned over the years that it doesn't matter what kind of creative practice you undertake, as long as you consistently feed your work.
LESSON OF THE WILLOW
The watery willow encourages the expression of deeply buried feelings, easing sadness through tears and grieving, and teaching the consequences of love and loss in matters of the heart. The willow reminds us of the need to let go sometimes, to surrender completely to the watery world of the emotions and the subconscious, so that we may be carried toward a deeper understanding of our inner-most feelings, toward a better appreciation of our hidden motives and secret fears and desires. Any suppressed and unacknowledged emotions can be a major cause of stress and illness. Through emotional expression, and through the sharing of feelings of ecstasy and pain, our ancestors believed they could help heal the human spirit. The willow enables us to realize that within every loss lies the potential for something new.
-from Wisdom of the Trees by Jane Gifford
What Willow Folklore Surrounds This Beautiful Tree? by Icy Sedgwick
Willow at Trees for Life
Willow Collection at the Minnesota Landscape Arboretum
Willow at The Goddess Tree
Posted in Architecture, Art, Bones, Culture, Dreams, Everyday Art, Fotoblog, Gratitude, Holding My Breath, Home, Nature, Photography, Place, Quotes, Seasons, Secrets, Structure, Vision, Wake Up, tagged Art in the Schools, Bosque School, building community through the Arts, cottonwood forest, environmental art, LAND/ART New Mexico, nature as muse, Patrick Dougherty, Patrick Dougherty in Albuquerque, Patrick Dougherty's "Here's Looking at You", Rio Grande bosque, Rio Grande Valley, sculpture, stick sculpture, Stickwork, trees, willows on October 28, 2009| 15 Comments »
Here's Looking at You, Patrick Dougherty installation at Bosque School,
Albuquerque, October 2009, photo © 2009 by ybonesy. All rights reserved.
One evening last week I went to see North Carolina artist Patrick Dougherty give a talk to an audience of parents, students, faculty and staff of Bosque School, plus a few members of the broader Albuquerque community. The turnout was solid. All seats were filled, yet I couldn't help but lament how tucked away this globally recognized, soft-spoken artist was—how very hidden his presence in our city was to the public at large. And just how much they were missing by not being here.
Dougherty was guest artist at the independent Bosque School (grades 6-12) from October 5-23. According to the multi-arts organization collaborative LAND/ART, which sponsored the sculptor, Dougherty was here to create "a site-specific work on the grounds of the school adjoining the Rio Grande Valley State Park, using willow saplings harvested from the site and involving the students and teachers in the process." (Bosque School is known for the way it incorporates study of the adjacent cottonwood forest—also known as "the bosque"—and river into its Science curriculum.)
This was Dougherty's first time working with students this age. He's done installations at museums, university and college campuses, and on sites of all types, from Ireland to France, Connecticut to California—over 200 works in the US, Asia, and Europe over the past two-plus decades.
He wasn't in New Mexico to create art in a highly visible public space. His primary job was to work with students and teachers. The installation was open to the public most days and weekends during his stay, and many people took advantage of visiting hours. But still, hearing him speak on a late afternoon in October was like stumbling upon the city's best kept art secret.
Patrick Dougherty poses for a shot after his talk (left), building the installation
required scaffolding (right), which visitors were sometimes allowed to climb,
October 2009, photos © 2009 by ybonesy. All rights reserved.
Drawing with sticks
Dougherty began his talk by walking the audience through a slideshow, starting with images of the log cabin home he built by hand, then moving to samples of his installations. He was funny and charming and deep in an unassuming way. He told us that he thinks about sticks as drawing material. "Consider the stick as a line," he suggested, talking to us as if we were fellow artists.
His favorite piece, which he said he liked precisely because of its good lines, was "Tension Zones," installed in Sheboygan, Wisconsin in 1995 at the John Michael Kohler Arts Center. (Unfortunately, the only image I found was in a hard-to-read archived article from the Milwaukee Sentinel.)
He went on to talk about his work in three ways, showing examples of each:
Architecture: Many of his installations have an interplay with buildings. Stick sculptures climb walls, cap towers, or lean into buildings.
Trees: Dougherty often uses trees as "a matrix." He might make use of the limbs, trunks, or the canopy of the tree, building his installation in relation to one or all of those parts. He showed us pieces that seemed to sprout leaves in spring and shed them in winter.
No thing: Many of his installations, he said, were built in "just space," indoors or outdoors.
After the talk, members of the audience had many questions. "How did the students catch on?" someone asked. "Great," Dougherty said, "we know all about sticks; it's the Hunter-Gatherer in our blood." He reminded us that the stick is a universal play thing for all children. They use sticks to draw in the dirt, as instruments, building material, weapons, and utensils.
Drawing-with-sticks details from the Bosque School installation,
Two Years and Three Weeks
Dougherty's pieces generally have the same lifespan as that of a stick, which is about two years. After two years, most installations come down.
In an interview (date unknown) on Don't Panic Online, Dougherty talked about the temporary nature of his work:
I think that part of my work's allure is its impermanence, the life cycle that is built into the growth and decay of saplings. My focus has always been the process of building a work and allowing those who pass to enjoy the daily changes or drama of building a sculpture as well as the final product. However, the line between trash and treasure is thin, and the sculptures, like the sticks they are made from, begin to fade after two years. Often the public imagines that a work of art should be made to last, but I believe that a sculpture, like a good flower bed, has its season.
Other highlights from Dougherty's talk include (italics direct quotes; the rest paraphrased):
On Art and Being an Artist: The art world is not a wall; it's a loose-knit group of people. Artists are just normal people who are looking for their place in the world.
On finding that Place in the world: Hysteria rides on the shoulder of every creative person.
On building his own house, a log cabin: He wanted to build a house that was functional, with no maintenance once it was done. That way he could live and work there when the money wasn't rolling in.
On living in North Carolina: Lots of maples in North Carolina, and the stones there have color. Some places have a lot of stones, but they're not different colors like they are in North Carolina.
On using willows to build art: Every time you cut the base of the willow, you get twice as many sticks that grow back. (Which was good to hear, given that my daughter was worried that nature was being sacrified for art. It wasn't.)
On how long it takes: Dougherty stays for about three weeks in each locale, which, he joked, is about the maximum amount of time before his hosts get sick of him.
On climbing the pieces: Please don't. Even though the structures are solid due to the layers and layers of sticks, as well as the stick foundations that gird them, climbing tends to destroy the surface over time. However, people (drunk adults, especially!) love to climb the sculptures.
On whether the students liked it: They loved it, although they felt at times constrained by doing things the way Dougherty wanted. In order to give the kids some freedom, there were three experimental installations where the students could do whatever they wanted.
Long view of the installation (left), and looking out from inside an experimental
sculpture, October 2009, photos © 2009 by ybonesy. All rights reserved.
Brown meets Green
After the talk we were invited to go outside to see the installation and walk around and inside of it. The piece is made up of three two-sided heads, like masks with eyes and noses, which, according to Dougherty, are a combination kachina and Green Man, who often can be seen adorning ancient cathedrals.
The masks were much larger than I had expected. I'd seen them just a few days before during an admissions open house at the school, but my viewing was brief plus I was distracted by the other goings-on. In my mind's eye, the sculptures were about twice as large as a person. Wrong! They are many times taller than the average person, as you can see by the photo below, which shows someone standing in the doorway/mouth of one of the masks.
The best part of the event was watching people of all ages marvel at the creations. Inside, outside, peeking around corners. A father dressed in a suit and tie (he must have come straight from work) played a sort of hide-and-seek tag with his two daughters, running in and out of each structure. I walked slowly into the giant heads, looking at elegant lines of the willows and taking in the most wondrous fragrance of sage and willow. One woman turned to me and exclaimed, "If only we could bottle that smell!"
The sun was sinking as the visitors scattered. I went over to the experimental installations. The sticks were not nearly as tightly layered as in the giant masks, but they had shape and structure. What an opportunity to learn with a master. Art in the Schools like it's never been done before.
More information on Patrick Dougherty
Patrick Dougherty's Incredible Nest Houses, on Environmental Graffiti
Patrick Dougherty: Artist in Residence, University of Kansas Spencer Museum of Art
Stickwork: Interview with Patrick Dougherty, Don't Panic online magazine
Yardworking: An Interview with Patrick Dougherty, ArtFocus Online