t . b e s o n e n . a r t

Good, RAW news!

2012-02-26T18:30:00.003-06:00

.

I found out a few days ago that I will be showing my recent

paintings at the Fine Line Music Cafe in Minneapolis on the

night of April 5th. It is part of the RAW: natural born artists

series, showcasing visual artists, musicians, and fashion

designers. There are 26 cities across the nation that have RAW
programs, and I will be able to participate in an event in another
location this year also. Here is more information about RAW.

http://www.rawartists.org/minneapolis/art?start=15

Should be a fun event, and I really wonder what I will wear for
"cocktail" attire... but in the meantime, I have some painting to
do!

To make art is to be vulnerable. End of story.

2012-02-19T11:14:00.000-06:00

There are times when subtly and silence is golden, and
others when it is tense. Times to speak up. Times to stay
silent. I am still learning how to accept/embrace all of the
above, while not second-guessing myself so much. It
will always amaze me how making art is such a great
metaphor for simply living life.

(Most recent painting.)

Silence, 2012
24" x 48", acrylic on canvas

I have never claimed to be a great speaker. I enjoy some

writing, and my art always communicates in a way my words

can not. I suppose if I got more satisfaction from expressing

myself verbally, art wouldn't be as essential. Here lies the

tension in both talking about art and teaching it... I have to dig

deep when explaining the necessity of making art and putting

yourself out there. I know the necessity of making art in my bones,

but explaining that verbally is especially challenging. I suppose

this is why it is so important for my students and my own children

to see my work as it develops through all of its awkward stages.

If I expect anyone else to take that leap and be a little vulnerable,

then I too have to show some courage.

Art is not about self-indulgence, like some who dare not make

it would like to think. For me, selling the product of someone else

is so much easier than putting my own work out there. But, as

most of us know, not doing art when you are an artist isn't

a good option either. To make art is to be vulnerable, end of story.

My Marimekko muses

2012-02-12T10:47:00.003-06:00

..
..
..
..
..

This time of year I crave to be bathed in the color and
patterns of Marimekko. For more than 60 years, this design
from Finland has helped us escape tundra-states-of-mind.
.
I speak and read very little Finnish, but somehow the
vintage Marimekko fabric designs (and some of today)
speak to me. Sometimes in whispers, most often in jubilant
cheers, Marimekko designs tell me something about
where my ancestors came from, and always make me
smile.

What I have learned from Marimekko:

Great design is uplifting.
"One must stand out from the rest." Armi Ratia
Don't be afraid of color. Be aware of its power.
"Tension between simplicity and excitement." Fujiwo Ishimoto
"My most important mentor: Finnish nature." Vuokko Eskolin-Nurmesniemi
Tell your story.
http://us.marimekko.com/unfold/designers

Layered processes

2012-02-03T18:47:00.002-06:00

This week I shared some slides of my work from over the last
nine years with my students. Also, I dehydrated this pear and
reassembled it to share with them. I was trying to give them incite
into the creative process, how ideas are born. Of course, there
isn't a formula--but I will say that for me it is extremely layered.
Layers of memories and experiences. Layers of images and
forms. Layers of ideas, failed attempts, and patience. (I've learned
to save failed attempts, because they often point to the next step
or are useful years later.)

Eight years ago I create a layered pear just like the one above
by dehydrating cross-sections of a pear and then reassembling it.
At the time, I was suffering from dehydration during preg-
nancy. Carrying that dehydrated, layered pear around the house
over a few months, I wondered how it could influence my next step
of art-making. In April 2004, our bundle was born and my energy
was restored. That layered pear led to four years of creating pear-
formed sculptures out of sewing pattern paper, wire, and beeswax
--and a solo show at the SOHO20 Gallery in NYC. Ideas usually
start small, but they often grow in layers and sometimes get
bigger than I ever thought possible. (And yes, that also pertains
to children, now bigger than I ever thought possible.)

Nest, 2005

Sewing pattern paper, wire, beeswax, basswood log

New York Mills Cultural Center

AMBIOTIC, 2007

Sewing pattern paper, wire, beeswax, vintage ironing boards

Soho20 Gallery, New York City

An idea of scale

2012-02-01T11:04:00.001-06:00

This shows the size of the painted pears next to an actual pear.
This photo also shows the metallic copper paint that I used in
these paintings.

Symbiotic

2012-01-27T14:00:00.002-06:00

Symbiotic, 2012
acrylic on canvas, 24" x 30"

Hopefully this looks more effortless than it was... some kids simply

require more effort than others. Started this three weeks ago and

just may have come to some kind of a conclusion today.

Maybe recent bizarre dreams are influencing, and complicating,

my work. I am reaching some kind of territory that is a little

uncomfortable--so that must mean that learning and growing is

happening, right? Or perhaps my jeans are just too tight.

Veiled & Grounded

2012-01-09T14:29:00.001-06:00

Veiled, 2012
acrylic on canvas, 24" x 30"

Grounded, 2012
acrylic on canvas, 24" x 30"

Thank you Eva.

2012-01-07T09:45:00.001-06:00

Eva Zeisel's Town & Country "Schmoo" Shakers
Red Wing Pottery, 1947-1956

The playful search of beauty is a great way to make art--

and live.

Little did I know when I added her TED video on December

27th, that Eva Zeisel would pass away on the 30th. She was

still designing at 100, and died at 105 years-old. In a time when

actors and athletes are over-celebrated, great to see this tribute

on the Sunday Morning Show last weekend.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=We9WE2dLlrw

Thanks for teaching us to be bold, graceful, and subtle, all at

once Eva. According to Lance Esplund, she was "never frail",

and "strong yet delicate". Her works are "hybrids of plant, animal

and human forms. They relate to one another like members of

a family."

Eva Zeisel's Playful Search for Beauty

2011-12-27T12:25:00.002-06:00

The 105 year old designer a few years ago.

part one, ted talk

Top Secret December Paintings

2011-12-27T11:24:00.001-06:00

To the girl who is fascinated with owls and
phases of the moon, and the other who wants
to go to Paris, tomorrow.

These works will never appear in a gallery
show of my work, but will be on the walls
of my daughters' new bedrooms once we
move into our new home. (A four-year building
project/labor of love. Thank you Mr. Besonen!)

Of course these two paintings were top secret,
and I couldn't post them until now. I debated
whether they are worthy of posting, but I took
the task of painting these gifts pretty seriously.
Mr. Besonen told me that they are now family
heirlooms. Wow, pressure. Glad I didn't look at
it that way as I was painting them, but perhaps
they will be most treasured by tween-aged
descendants and that is okay, because who
doesn't want to go back to ages 8-12?

Tween enthusiasm filled the room after
opening--I love tween enthusiasm. It goes
something like, "This is so cool! This is SO
cool!" Add awkward twirling and fist pumping.

Sharing the Sheep Love. Giving away 2 paintings on December 15th.

2011-12-09T08:22:00.001-06:00

Which of these would you choose? 2 followers of this
blog will get to choose on December 15th. These 6"x6"
gallery wrapped 1.5" deep acrylic paintings were created
in the Summer of 2011, and helped spark my recent,
larger paintings.

On the night of December 15th I will use random.org
to select two blog followers, matching two randomly
generated numbers with the order that people appear
in the members window. Click on "Join This Site" to
sign up as a follower of this blog before Dec. 15th, for
a chance to win!

They will be sent out (or delivered in person if you live
close enough) as soon as the two winners respond
with which painting they'd like. I'll send to anywhere
in the world.

Just sharing the sheep love and thinning out the herd!

2011-12-08T14:18:00.001-06:00

Ctrl+z. Hello Germany.

2011-12-07T13:02:00.001-06:00

Lookout, 2011
acrylic paint, 24" x 30"

I have been painting these 24" x 30" canvases for

two months now. It has been like medicine, although

not without challenges. Art is work and play at the

same time, or maybe it alternates between labor and

dreaming. No matter what, there is a point where I

have to work past the frustrations and vulnerability.

There have been some surprises. The first surprise was

that it took awhile to think like a painter again. Most of

my work has been digital for the last few years. This

shift in thinking was made obvious to me in early

October when I painted over something, and wanted an

instant undo. My brain immediately barked, "Reach for

Ctrl+z!"

Another surprise is how adding my work to this blog

has become such huge motivation to paint more. The

last stage of the creative process is getting it out there,

and I am so thankful to live in this time when sharing my

work on the other side of the world is this easy and

immediate. Which leads me to another surprise, this

blog has an audience in Germany and Russia! I'd love

to hear comments from some of you. I have great

memories of visiting Berlin in 1992 for a college trip.

It seemed like I was a world away then, before the

world-wide-web and the digital revolution.

2011-12-02T15:28:00.001-06:00

I See You, 2011
acrylic on canvas, 24"x 36"

Winter Moon

2011-12-01T11:06:00.001-06:00

Incubation 2, 2011
acrylic paint, 24" x 30"

Reflections of a grateful artist/teacher

2011-11-30T09:05:00.001-06:00

I wrote this essay a year ago, required for my teaching relicensure.
Now, after a challenging year of health-related issues, I am more
grateful than ever for my family, art, students--and Vitamin D!

Teaching Reflection, December 2010
Teaching, mothering, and making art have become tightly woven
threads of who I am, all strengthening and depending upon one another.
Now in my 17th year of teaching, I am thankful for being in this place
of experience, enthusiasm and compassion in the present, and
confidence about the future. More and more I know that the most
important aspects of teaching are to give students the opportunities to
develop their own senses of responsibility and effort, as well as
opportunities for them to think for themselves in new and original
ways.

In 1998, before I was a mother, I wrote, “Every once and awhile I slow
down, and sit with a table of students. I really look into their eyes, and
see the wonder and promise. I am touched by the honor of being a part
of their lives and feel the weight of that responsibility.” Now in 2010,
the difference is the additional patience and compassion that
experience and mothering has given me. Students, after all, are human
and have so many concerns outside of school. Showing that I care
about them and their future is essential to being an effective teacher
today. This concern for students’ futures has also taught me the
importance of empathy without coddling. Students need to take
responsibility for their weaknesses and mistakes, without making
excuses or blaming others. Although it is often the most unpleasant
part of teaching, the greatest gifts I can give my students are
opportunities for them to take responsibility for their own actions
before they tackle more of life’s challenges on their own.

Participating in the three-day studio workshop “Of Intuition and Art”
at the Grand Marais Artist Colony in 2009 especially helped with ideas
to challenge myself and my students to think for ourselves in new and
original ways. This workshop was lead by artist and teacher Elizabeth
Erickson. During the workshop we were given time to create our own
artwork, as well as time studying and talking about the work of great
artists that used intuitive approaches to art-making. Elizabeth Erickson
encouraged us to draw inspiration from everything around us: nature,
poetry, other artwork, etc. The greatest lessons I received from this
workshop were ways of trusting and not downplaying our own instincts
and fascinations. The most effective and original artists are driven to
explore their fascinations, and then work through the frustrations to
execute their ideas. Inspiration+Effort.

Being an active artist and sharing my artwork with my students has
greatly enhanced my teaching and life in general. I have especially
grown as an artist within the last 10 years, exhibiting in the Mid-West
and in New York City. Surprisingly, all of that happened after I became
a mother and continued to teach. When I look back, I am convinced
that becoming a more serious artist happened because of being a
teacher and mother, not despite of it. I have seen too many parents
and teachers that seem resentful and burned out about continually
giving so much of themselves, which in turn makes them much less
effective and less satisfied parents and teachers. Creating my own
work helps me strike the balance I need. When I feel enthusiasm
and generosity waning, it is time to get back into the studio. It is so
important that our youth watch adults responsibly living the lives
they want to live, even as challenges arise.

I want students to be hopeful and confident about the life and
challenges ahead of them. Now in the midst of my 17th year of
teaching, I am thankful to be in this balanced place of experience,
compassion, enthusiasm, and hope.

Incubation 1

2011-11-29T11:21:00.001-06:00

Incubation 1, 2011
acrylic paint, 30" x 24"

Winter Visitor, in-progress

2011-11-23T09:54:00.001-06:00

Winter Visitor, 2011
acrylic paint, 30" x 24"

Incorporating my two muses again, modern design and sheep.
Two of my most vivid dreams ever, had red chairs in them.
Not sure what it represents exactly, but enjoyed pairing my
curious sheep with the beautiful Eames form.

A few years ago I actually did find an Eames replica chair (not
like this, but the soft lounge chair and ottoman) in my parents'
sheep barn. Thank you Uncle Ray!

The barn no longer holds sheep, but a lot memories. It is quiet.
You can probably tell by now that sheep represent much more
to me than dim-witted followers. The gentle curiosity in this
painting brings me back to age 13, laying still in the straw as
lambs sniffed my face and lightly nibbling on my fingers and
hair.

Awaiting Winter

2011-11-16T15:20:00.001-06:00


Awaiting Winter, 2011, acrylic paint, 24" x 30"

Dreading the inevitable? The lack of the sun in the Winter can

be difficult, but I am trying to meet it without dread. Maybe it is

my new vitamin D supplements talking, but I am hoping to embrace

more about winter this year.

Totally out of 24" x 30" canvas now. Dick Blick to the rescue, and

they should arrive within a week. Feels too soon to write about the

painting above, especially since I finished it fifteen minutes ago. All

I can say is that I am enjoying working with these complementary

color contrasts, images that I have been ignoring for so long, and

these sinuous lines.

Wise Lamb with Zeisels

2011-11-15T18:38:00.001-06:00

Wise Lamb with Ziesels, 2011
acrylic paint, 24" x 30"

Work of another artist that I admire has popped up in my work,

designer Eva Zeisel. I collect her work, and own a pitcher and

gravy dish like these. Added last, somehow her graceful, birdlike

forms unify this piece. And, since I can't afford to collect too many

more now, there is something very satisfying about owning them

here.

This wise lamb is reminding me to enjoy my daughters while they

are still young... and wise. Not sure if the ewe on top is me, but

it is a vigilant mother-figure trying not to be overprotective.

Trying.

Benign is a lovely word

2011-11-03T14:26:00.001-05:00

Finally got the results today. It is benign. After 3 biopsies
and waiting 5 weeks to get definitive results about this
thyroid tumor, I am relieved!

In the meantime

2011-10-28T09:46:00.001-05:00

Still waiting on a diagnosis of my thyroid tumor. Just found
out today that I have another inconclusive result (insufficient
cells for diagnosis) of the second biopsy. It has been more
than a month of waiting, and wondering. Trying to take
more action about making an appointment with a specialist
today. Now waiting to hear about that. Frustrating.

Today my own diagnosis is that most of our lives are
living "in the meantime". In the meantime, I choose to
paint and "blog pist", my new term for angry blog posts!

Full Moon Waiting, finished today

Full Moon Waiting feels more finished now. I am excited about
how the Brancusi-like endless columns sprouted up out of my
honeycomb patterns. If I am not making sculptures right now, feels
good to paint them. I believe that Frida Kahlo would approve of
this painting!

In the Meantime
acrylic on 24"x30" canvas.

Waiting

2011-10-19T13:41:00.000-05:00

In-progress "Full Moon Waiting",
24" x 30", acrylic paint

By the time I finish this post, the results may be in, the results
of the biopsy of a somewhat large lesion (tumor) on my thyroid.
Waiting has always been one of my greatest weaknesses...
I have so many memories of being angry while I had to wait. At
10-years-old, I angrily waited to open gifts by the Christmas
tree, as my brother (5 years younger) peacefully waited. I
remember wishing that Luke would help speed things up by
throwing a fit, which is pretty funny now that I think about it,
since he is one of the most patient people I know. Of course,
most of my childhood memories are very positive, but the topic
here is waiting.

There has been a lot of waiting lately and I have been angry,
but waiting has also led to more painting without over-analyzing;
the kind of painting that I want to do more often. This kind of
painting, when the results are especially unclear, can lead to
an acceptance that surrenders control.

*The results are "inconclusive"--will have another biopsy
next week. More waiting.

Intuitive Ewe

2011-09-28T10:02:00.001-05:00

February Ewe 1, 2011. Ink on a 1921 encyclopedia page.
(Click on image to see words and details.)

Recently, I have been working more intuitively with images, words,
and materials to create narratives. Creating these personal
metaphors is a therapeutic process of soothing my own anxieties,
and discovering how we are all connected to each other, as well
as connected to nature and to the past.

Also, I have been researching the Art Nouveau movement of the
early 1900s in art and design history. I am fascinated with how this
time period was such an important transition into the modern art era,
and I see parallels between the industrialization of the early 1900s
and the digitalization of today.

Drawing on the surface of 1920s encyclopedia pages with black
ink, I am enjoying the process of responding to the surface texture
and words as sheep images and natural, art-nouveau-inspired
motifs overlap.

February Ewe 2, 2011. Ink on a 1921 encyclopedia page.
(Click on image to see words and details.)

Mother's Fingers

2011-09-28T08:49:00.011-05:00

Mother's Fingers, 2011 Ink on 1921 encyclopedia pages
(click on image to enlarge and see words)

I grew up on a sheep farm in North-Central Minnesota. At age

eleven, I became awe-inspired by nursing half-frozen lambs back

to life, and experienced mothering instincts for the first time.

Experiences with mothering my own two daughters today, the

oldest nearly eleven, may be why sheep images are surfacing in

my work recently.

Vision that was planted in 1989

2011-09-16T10:52:00.005-05:00

“The Arvegods” (1979) by Ray Jacobson, represents a pair of early Norwegian pioneers.

I haven't seen these sculptures for over 20 years. When I attended the symposium "The Role of the Artist in Society" at Concordia College in Moorhead this week, it was moving to see the two figures again, especially when "The Sound of Silence" so vividly played in my head as I neared the sculptures. Not sure how to describe it, but there was such a clear link between these forms and the words and tune of that song. "My old friend, I've come to talk with you again... And the vision that was planted in my brain, still remains." In 1989, I finished a year at this small private college, before reluctantly transferring. This sculpture met me like an old friend. According to symposium presenter Dr. Dan Flory, film (or any art form), like a friend, can "tell us things about ourselves that we can not see." Maybe I have been denying just how much that year in my life helped to determine my path as an artist, teacher, & person.

More information about the artist and sculpture: http://www.rayjacobson.com/public_spaces.html

The Dreaded Artist Statement

2011-06-19T11:34:00.018-05:00

I have come to realize that writing an artist statement during
a time of transition in my work can be a tense, messy process,
but this time it was well worth the effort. Writing this artist
statement (below) really helped gain understanding of where
my work has been. The two pieces mentioned below will be in
an upcoming exhibit at the Cyrus Running Gallery at Concordia
College, Moorhead, Minnesota in September 2011.

More More detail

Artist Statement
As a mixed-medium artist, I work both two and three-dimensionally; my sculptures and paintings seem to fuel one another. My recent paintings and sculptures are examining how we all are connected to each other, as well needing a connection to nature. For the last seven years, I have been working with sewing pattern paper as my primary material, inventing processes to use the material without losing its delicate and translucent qualities. I enjoy sewing pattern paper’s natural color, graphic markings, and associations with traditional women’s work and craft.

The painting More began as an ode to light, as the womb-like pear form was painted to allow light and color through the translucent paper. As it continued, I chose to repeat the block-printed word “more” and it quickly became a statement or challenge. Are we all sheep? Or can we resist the demand upon us to have and do more, and more fully appreciate the natural abundance all around us?

Once I began suspending my strings of pear-forms, I was brought back to my first fascinations with the balance and movement of Alexander Calder’s mobiles. In Pear Helix, the empty space becomes just as important as the forms themselves. To me, the small, connected forms are an intertwined family.

Pear Helix Pear Helix detail

The Map Home 1, 2, 3

2011-04-16T08:19:00.006-05:00

These gouache and wax resist paintings on paper are the most
recent additions to my "Making Honey" series. Originally I
entitled the smaller studies "Inside Looking Out", inside
a honey comb and looking into the sun.

Bees are dying

faster than they can replace themselves
and so are my excuses
for losing the map home.
.
The first memory of that place,
and all its nectars
are in a blurry path back to
.
Finnish raspy words buzzing above
the drone of the hive
Grandma Helen is clearly the queen
as we hover around her.
.
In the sticky sun, our daughters hang on
as my mom reads aloud on the throne
the map faintly appears on my face
I look away,

stung.

more or enough?

2011-04-13T10:53:00.011-05:00

This painting is also part of my "Making Honey" series.
I temporarily hung More in the jackpine site. Later, I
block-printed the wrapped sheep.

sewing pattern paper, paint, ink, 20" x 90"

Are the words getting eaten or released?

Making Honey: Labor, Rest, & Light

2011-04-13T10:28:00.004-05:00

This video is a part of my "Making Honey" series of

sculptures and paintings. It documents the process of

hand-crocheting (my hands as the crochet needles)

wire hive-form sculptures--followed by rest and light.

Can you be still?

2009-02-01T18:58:00.028-06:00

A year in the woods. Today, February 1, 2009, deer
tracks lead the way back to this place. Once again,
the resiliency is encouraging me to be in winter, be
still, and watch. Like water, I tend to flow in many
directions, but not today.

Nearly a year ago on March 1, 2008 I wrote, "This
has been up for three weeks and the resiliency of the
sewing pattern paper and beeswax is encouraging. If
these fragile forms can withstand winter, so can I...
By March, I forget about the lightning, the mosquitoes,
the weeds. Okay, I will be in winter, following rabbits
for awhile."

a new year

2009-01-06T14:35:00.014-06:00

A year ago I placed my sewing pattern & wax
pear-shaped forms in the winter woods, and
then proceeded to document their transformation
in photographs, film, and journaling.

Was I motivated most by surviving winter and
capturing the light of the fleeting sun? A response
to a lack of workspace? A way to communicate
my recurring questions?

What I do know a year later is that I was also
responding to the constant demand upon us all
to do and have more without appreciating the
abundance multiplying around us.

2008-11-26T12:57:00.013-06:00

nine months
.
she turned to me, "Mom, they're ruined!"
the same child that asks,
"Why do you always change everything?"
.
after nine months in the woods,
the strings of pears have changed
yet hang on
protected by a beeswax coating.
.
not quite sure what I "expected"
or maybe this was an exercise in
not having expectations
or plans
or following the dotted lines.
.

nine months on the curved pine

2008-11-26T11:13:00.008-06:00

the curved pine site, after 6 months

2008-09-02T16:13:00.003-05:00

July 15, 2008

3 weeks of multiplication

2008-06-11T11:56:00.005-05:00

night vistor

2008-06-10T17:59:00.002-05:00

it's time... for what?

2008-05-07T14:51:00.025-05:00

We went into the woods last week - finally without snow, and
found this pear form clinging, dependent upon the curved
pine to survive winter.

It is time! The time when those hibernated ideas climb out

and insist upon being heard. The time when I get this Spring

urgency for action, passed down from generations of farmers.

Time for our kids to explore the new growth. Time for me

to say good bye to these pears and grow new ones.

.
Time to let go.

.
For you, what is it time for?

when we are gone

2008-04-08T10:14:00.013-05:00

These images are taken with our trail camera - attached
to a tree with a motion sensor, it takes photos when
we aren't there. Most likely the grey creature in the first
photos is a fisher (also called fisher cat). I'm told fishers
prey on rabbits, cats and fawns. But it looks so sweet
and fuzzy...

Remember 14?

2008-03-03T15:06:00.013-06:00

.
At 14
.
they coaxed me into the July sun
and nibbled on my scrawny fingers
bleating knowingly over my hands
.
later, on crunchy spring mornings
I embraced their half-frozen lambs
intervening with the sweet foremilk
.
nearly twenty years later I was repaid
seven months living on intravenous fluid
until we coaxed Julia into the spring sun
.
on April 14th I could eat again
these hands knowing now

Zoomed-in?

2008-03-03T09:02:00.027-06:00

According to Twyla Tharp, everyone has a focal length,
"All of us find comfort in seeing the world either from

a great distance, at arm's length, or in close-up."

Before yesterday I've been at a middle distance in the

woods. Yesterday I zoomed-in to see what I have been

missing. Today I used those close-up images to create

a larger grid - the larger picture of constructing meaning

from the details... I'm finding that I may most often sit

in the mid-focal length, but when I get out of that

comfort zone discovery begins.

.
Zoomed-in?

Awaiting Spring?

2008-03-01T19:12:00.016-06:00

Rabbit tracks lead the way to the swamp tamarack site today.

This has been up for three weeks and the resiliency of the

sewing pattern paper and beeswax is encouraging. If these

fragile forms can withstand winter, so can I. Here is a better

view of the tamarack that was struck by lightning in the

summer of 2005. The top of the tree shattered, blasting

splinters all around. I remember hearing this violent strike.

By March, I forget about the lightning, the mosquitoes, the

weeds. Okay, I will be in winter, following rabbits for awhile.

Awaiting Spring?

Where do you go?

2008-02-17T22:34:00.007-06:00

Site 2: curved pine
We went deeper into our woods to find another site for more
AMBIOTIC forms that were in storage, breathing so much
easier here than in the plastic storage boxes. Every once in
awhile I also need to get out of my plastic box and get time
in the woods, not just outside, but deeper and away from the
daily pressures, to find natural abundance. Where do you go?
.
Where do you go?

How does snow change you?

2008-02-17T22:13:00.004-06:00

The swamp tamarack site a week later, +25F, after a snowfall

Even after blizzard conditions last weekend, and 5 inches of

snow later in the week, the AMBIOTIC (ambient, amniotic,

biological, symbiotic) forms are holding up - made of sewing

pattern paper, wire, gel medium and beeswax.

With clean snow, I can think more clearly.

How does the snow change these? ...or change you?

What are your first memories of home?

2008-02-17T17:35:00.004-06:00

02.09.2008

Site 1: swamp tamarack, -12F & 35mph winds
The AMBIOTIC pear forms just after they were hung
near the debris of a tamarack tree that was struck by
lightning in 2005. These sculptures were exhibited at
the SOHO20 Gallery in NYC a year ago.
www.mnartists.org/tiffany_besonen
http://www.soho20gallery.com/exhibit/besonen/besonen06_imgs.htm
New York was great, but they seem at home in the swamp.
.
What are your first memories of home?