What do you do when all the artists scheduled in your gallery from September through November pull out of their showings?
That was the situation the Portage Center for the Arts (PCA), in Portage, Wisconsin, had to address in July 2024. With necessary building repairs scheduled for September through December, they informed all of their planned exhibitors that some of the dust and dirt from the construction might make its way into the Drury Gallery. Understandably, all the scheduled artists requested that their shows be moved to later months after construction was complete.
[Art in the graphic created by (starting at the top right) Ciera Adams-Resheske, Becky Katzemeyer, and Kristen Schmidt. Empty gallery graphic created by Leoma Retan.]
Jenn Czecholinski, artist, mental health coach, and current chairman of the PCA’s Visual Arts Committee, dreamed up a brilliant solution to the empty gallery problem: an art project involving visual artists, writers, and members of the community in creating eight or nine large multi-medium visual art pieces accompanied by short poems and prose. Each piece would focus on nature and the environment. Each key artist would create a base design for one of the themes and the writers would prepare a short piece related to that theme. Once the base paintings were complete, we would invite members of the public to spend a day with the art and artists, adding to each using materials, including paint, pastels, natural objects such as twigs and leaves, images clipped from magazines, and written words. It would be called The HeART of Collaboration.
The final list of prompts, along with the artist who tackled them, was:
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- Zoom on nature – Ciera Adams-Resheske
- Be inspired in real time / Wild inclusion – Jenn Czecholinski
- The persistence of plants in urban areas or blooming where there is no soil – Kristin Schmidt
- Mother nature’s builders / construction – Sarah Daentl
- Where do you find yourself in the divinity of the common moment / nature – Drew Wintermyer
- Fear of wolves despite the importance they play in the natural world – Julie Klumb
- The calculation of crows – Becky Katzemeyer
- The timelessness of nature – Aaron Coval
- Consider the tenacity of a short-lived mosquito / how does it impact your surroundings – Charlie Tom
Visual artists spent the month of July creating their “starting” paintings on (mostly) 4′ x 8′ wood bases. On 3 August, the original artists plus nineteen community members (who provided a small donation to join the effort) met on a hot, sunny day to complete the art. Each person switched to a different art piece and was encouraged to change the media they were using every fifteen to twenty minutes. One segment might be art pens (which could be used for sketches or words), another clippings, and another craft objects such as sequins or beads.
During the remainder of August, the writings were attached to stems of wood for display and descriptive materials were created, leading to a successful gallery opening on 6 September 2024. The authors of the poems/prose companions are: Kristin Forde, Mary DeWolf, Leoma Retan, Jennifer Scheidegger, Ruth Flanagan, Nicole Bronson, Sarah Sadie, Joan Bailey, and Yalonda Solseng.
On 1 November, the date normally reserved for Drury Gallery openings, some of the writers will read the pieces they created for the HeART of Collaboration display. My piece, which is related to Kristin Schmidt’s visual art, is at the bottom of this blog.
If you are in the Portage area, please visit the Drury Gallery, located in the Portage Center for the Arts, 301 E. Cook St., Portage, Wisconsin. The 1 November event is from 4 – 6 p.m. but the display will be on view until the end of November.
The Resilience of Nature
by Leoma Retan
In Maui, a banyan tree sprouts new leaves a year after fire tried to terminate its long life. The tree endures.
I hiked in the Southern California mountains a year after devastating fire cleared the land, but saw no trace of the raging destruction. Contrary to the ‘experts’ dire predictions of a long recovery, the plants returned with spring’s warm caress. Mountain life renewed.
In flood-ravaged New Orleans, a cardinal sang the promise of renewal to Trisha O’Kane. She wrote about the hope it provided. Buildings are destroyed. Nature recovers.
People fall victim to the parching heat and bone-chilling cold of the desert. Joshua trees grow tall and wide, sheltering kangaroo rats and kit foxes from the sun. Barrel cacti protect their moist flesh with sharp needles; mice use dead needles to build homes. Nature in balance.
Seeds find the smallest cracks in fields of concrete, to become bushes and trees. Each widening the fissures. Concrete fractures, reclaimed by the wild world.
The works of man may last a lifetime, or a thousand lifetimes, before returning to dust. Along with the people who built them.
Constantly replenishing, evolving nature will last until the sun turns dark. Maybe beyond.