11.26.2008

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








5.07.2008

it's time... for what?

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?

.

4.08.2008

when we are gone





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...

3.03.2008

Remember 14?

.
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?




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?

3.01.2008

Awaiting Spring?



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?

2.17.2008

Where do you go?


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?


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?

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?