I had the distinct honor of being commissioned for a custom piece of studio work. For individuals otherwise outside of social circles to entrust personal story and connection for artistic interpretation is a responsibility I take seriously, gratefully, and of course with my typical dedication to overthinking.
A peek into process, and the final piece ready for a new home
Beyond our time in nature, I believe people are what make our worlds expand: they bring us into novel spaces, dynamics, different lived experiences and knowledge banks — they push us from stagnating and remind us of the importance of interaction. And in this case, people were what brought me to revisiting fine art practice and to the decision of dedicating more time towards this work, and tasked me with the difficult process of recognizing self and practice. In the past, I’ve connected art making to competitive energy and felt it centered individual fulfillment. The solitary physical nature of art making set the act up to be self indulgent, relying on the tools put to use by an individual to create whatever worlds, interactions, messages, dreams, and whatever else might be bouncing around in their head. Why are these art makers so special to wield this power and have such thoughts take physical form and exist? And what responsibilities must be embedded in this interaction?
Self portrait copper plate print circa 2012 following 6mo living on the Big Island of Hawai’i. This piece speaks to the internalization of our interactions in nature, and nods to the importance of sharing breath.
This power felt uncomfortable to me as I worked through fine art education. I saw myself driven by motivations that seemed selfish: my own artistic progress in skill, my own conceptualization of the world, my own competitive standing in the class, my own statements…and so forth. And with artistic practice often relying on repetitive prompts like self portraits, it all seemed too individually focused, self-benefitting and involved. This distracted me from unpacking my own discomfort. It’s much easier to cast a far-reaching judgement to avoid the fear underneath. At the end of the day, it was my hand that was holding the paintbrush, and my interaction with the canvas that would be recorded. Why was that interaction scaring me, when it also held the potential for liberation and fulfillment? The insecurity was so deep that I took every avenue to avoid displaying my ‘complete’ work in spaces I inhabit, knowing the discomfort of observing where I could have done better or pushed farther would be in my face constantly. Imagine the pressure on each piece [and on self] to embody ALL the things, all the time, in order to earn a spot on the wall.
Revisiting the cringe, I’ve made more sense of what my relationship with art can be outside of the rigid perception I held previously, and how my approaches can directly challenge the very concerns mentioned without the need for me to abandon the practice. And this required a more loving, compassionate and fluid view of self, of growth, and of possibility. This re-visioning could only be accomplished by leaning into the cringe and making sense of it. Artists certainly can approach their canvas with self-benefiting intentions, and seeing the commodification of artwork further complicates avenues for this kind of interaction to take place. It’s also okay to seek personal benefit. This last part has been a difficult one for me to recognize, as my impulses of embodying what is “good” has resulted in an abandonment of what I might need, where I might benefit from support, my internalized conceptions of self worth, and the pressures I put on myself. I found myself assuming negative outcome of myself when I stepped into the work, and my inner voice was ready to remind me of the possible failures. And with art resulting in a publicly consumed artifact, the anxieties of managing external perception could often be overwhelming.
Then I came back to self. I was kinder in my dreaming, and more open in my approaches to potential. My anxieties were helping me avoid the harm I myself or others had received in interactions with art, and by investigating and knowing this harm, my actions could be informed to further evolve my practice. I could stop the impulse to commodify a piece and revisit the canvas as a space for reflection and instigation. I could also create work for commodification, and know I was worthy of compensation for the pieces of my heart I was open to sharing in this kind of interaction. I could at once maintain high regard for visionaries and cultural challengers while recognizing the glimpses I had that were influencing me were only a small part of their existence, and refocus my research on the imperfectly human elements. For my discomfort of individual agency, I could seek collaboration within my concepts, or very tangibly in my process. Possibilities flooded back, and suddenly my art concepts notebook came back to life. My watercolors no longer scared me. And my learning was worthy of the materials cost.
Collaborative commissions are one way I hope to further challenge self and world through the tools of art making. In this initial piece, I am humbled by the creative trust bestowed on me in this process, and maintain a responsibility of open communication around process, concept, and message. This commission embodies just one possibility in this kind of interaction, and I’m thankful for the overlap in interest and visual metaphor. Let’s dive in to the details:
Complete composition of the latest custom commission piece bound for a new home in Shoshone-Bannock, Apsaalooké (Crow), Salish Kootenai (Flathead), Cheyenne stolen land known as Big Sky, MT
A simple suggestion of place was incorporated to maintain focus on the interactions and players
The piece brought together shared passions of fly fishing and birding, which I am thankful to have access to as a language of connection between myself and clients. With joint focus on interactions within nature, and recognizing individual journey and growth possible within observations of our natural world, we could collectively indulge in celebrating and communicating through welcome friends found outside. And this interaction could be the focus, knowing a sense of place is best achieved when holding physicality, though possible as an ethereal reminder through natural forms.
Incorporating surface tension of the water itself and many of bubble forms throughout challenges the intention of knowing space to a journey of reflection. We see the forms within this scene reflected, distorted, and morphed into the bubbles themselves, both as a reminder of how our interactions in nature are a reflection of our own meaning making, and as these interactions leave impact [even when quickly passing] on the space we inhabit. This is a line of inquiry for the viewer to progress on their own, to make sense of their own manifestations in nature and how individual identity plays a role in the spirit of interaction accomplished.
Reflective bubbles were such a fun part of the art making process for this piece
Detail of the bubbles surrounding the juvenile brook trout, distorting and pulling apart what signifies it’s identity when seen through the lens of nature/water
This piece would take on a journey from Maine to Montana in the hands of those who commissioned the piece, with a destination of a new home for their son in what is currently known as Big Sky. This son’s life could be followed through shared family passions of birding and fishing, expanding even more as he gets to know his new habitation context. We invited forms of birds emblematic to the Gallatin River such as the nutcracker and magpie as recognizable new neighbors for the client, while also nodding to east coast roots through the bluebird, which can be spotted in both locations.
We also incorporated elements of journey through the trout species included: the brook trout, embodying a younger, juvenile form here evoking a childhood adventuring around the native habitats of the trout. This form is shown hooked on a Purple Haze, a staple dry fly in Montana waters; this interaction represents the individual’s new connection and pursuit of living in Montana. We also welcome a hefty cutthroat trout, strong and lively, representing the son’s current human state in new waters. The cutthroat chases an emblematic Maine fly — the Gray Ghost — showing a tether to home and persistence of this influence on self and influence on action, regardless of geographic location.
An adult cutthroat trout chases the Maine Gray Ghost streamer fly here, maintaining connection to roots in different waters and how this can inform further introspection and growth in new physical context
Here we have birds wielding flies made of feathers, working together to interact with fish below the water’s surface. A subtle suggestion here could be that we already have the tools we need to grow, provided we learn how to use them and do so in community spirit.
Interaction between air and water offers an undercurrent of nature reclamation and interconnected living. Here, the birds wield the line and flies which are made of their own feathers to invite interaction beyond the sky with entities otherwise out of reach. By having the birds control feather-constructed flies, viewers can challenge the relationship they might have with these tools and honoring their sources. Much like a slowly re-wilding space after human impact, these forms take back what is theirs and utilize their actions as a reminder of sustainability and responsibility each angler might choose to embody. Furthermore, by engaging with beings below the water’s surface [and thus outside of the comfort zone for these birds] we have a subtle sense of connection and relationship held by nature’s inhabitants, beyond the interaction of prey and predator.
Detail of the magpie — a moment of indulgence through subtle color layering
The playfulness and observed teamwork between birds to manage their interaction is a suggestion of thoughtful, collective action. This collaboration is an intentional challenge to the perceived solitary nature of fly fishing: many may conceptualize an individual, alone in a natural environment, casting flies on an individual journey to prompt interaction. Rather, the act of fly fishing is one of observation and constant interaction, working in unity with the natural environment to make decisions, guide actions, and ultimately color interactions with any river inhabitants that may come into contact.
I’m writing this all having parted with the piece just a few days ago, and awaiting feedback from the family once it is gifted this holiday season. I’m excited to share I’ll be working on a second commission for this same client, and look forward to exploring more through the interaction of bird and fish, knowing receiving audience will bring depth and meaning beyond my own. And I’ll be taking this on with a more loving and solid sense of agency for myself as collaborative art making grows within my practice. Cheers to that.
Resident art critic Nelson shares his thoughts and requests a snuggle