Elation, Spring

Listen to the essay

In Minnesota spring is not only marked by the snow melting, or the ice thawing, but also by the appearance of robins who return from their winter vacations where they’ve warmed themselves in the Southern part of the US. I screamed hello and gratitude to the first roadside robin I spotted while journeying back from an errand run on Tuesday. Several robins have taken up foraging the now freshly exposed ground at the ChicFinn (what we call our compound) and the red wing blackbirds are trilling in the mornings again after their journeys northward. My favorite muskrat has also been spotted now that the pond is thawing. I truly cannot tell you how much of a delight it is to see her busy at work, diving into and climbing out of the pond. She’s so graceful and like the chickens and goats and cats, pups, and humans at the ChicFinn, we all seem to be basking in the elation of spring thaw

I’m feeling both excited about the warmer temperatures, attentive to the flooding that the quick thaw typically creates at the compound, and fretting about how I will be missing out on the fourth annual High Island Lake Opener Challenge. For the last three years I have run a contest through my instagram for folks to make a guess on when the ice will finally go out on the lake on which we live. A small environmental lake with no public access, High Island gets its name from the small island in the middle. Though images of the lake from a birds eye view gives her a naming that could be more than simply descriptive of her island — I think the lake’s edge creates the outline of a mermaid.

Mermaid lake aside, I am feeling conflicted feelings about missing the lake thawing because it is such a special event after months of our snow-covered tundra reality. Though the gifts of this residency I am off to in Wyoming will likely bring snow melting and ice thawing opportunities from new vantage points, I like seeing the daily changes of what’s happening on the lake. I’m recognizing one of the reasons why I am feeling particular grief of missing out (GOMO?) is because paying attention, making note, and chronicling, is part of my everyday survival strategy in these uncertain times. By looking out the window and tracking the movement of the sun or moon’s position as it rises over the horizon, or watching ice melt, or saying hello to the northern flickers who are all over Vaimo’s bird feeders, I feel connected and calm. I have a sense of place that feels soothing to my spirit, and a practice through which I can always return. That is… if I am at home.

Now, I’m heading into uncertain territory. I have no idea what the view from my new window will be, nor do I know the creatures and their habits at the artist residency in Wyoming where I’m currently traveling. I do not have a five year relationship to the pace of the seasons, or a sense of what flavor of spring we can expect based on the size of the front door snow bank. I’m trying to face this uncertainty with curiosity and engagement, like excitement about what I can see instead of only bemoaning all I won’t see at the ChicFinn. Through turning into the slide of the unknown I’m hoping I won’t completely spin out. And in my typical fashion I have made reservations for my third tour of Jewel Cave along my route, which means this creature of habit is ready to adopt new sights that may one day become new return adventures. I’m recognizing this skill of mine of noticing what is around me, is rooted by my desire to have a record of my time here, a wish to see the mundane in a new light. I love a good list to keep me organized.
As I began preparations for my month away I started obsessively making lists. A list of materials to pack, food to bring, errands to run, tasks to complete before I leave…ever the project manager I put my task master to work on preparing for our travels alongside trying to do the regularly scheduled activities. My lists come in all shapes and sizes, sometimes I’ll make a note on the back of an envelope (chaotic), sometimes I will make notes in my action area of my Passion Planner (refined). Sometimes the list is in my notes app on my phone under “packing,” a list that shifts and expands over time but also kind of remains the same since this creature of habit definitely has the creature comforts that most soothe my spirit when I leave the hermitage. I’ve always loved this Gloria Anzaldúa quote, “I am a turtle, wherever I go I carry ‘home’ on my back.” It’s a great sentiment for people who migrate, for people of a diaspora, for people displaced or out of place. And this quote also makes me laugh when I think about myself. I carry a lot with me in my shell whenever I dare to leave the compound. My ‘home’ on my back is stuffed with more than just my spine.

But this really isn’t about my tendency to overpack, or overplan, or overextend myself. It really is about embodying the hope of spring. Of taking with me on my back, the joys of warmer weather after a long winter. Of getting to experience spring in a new location, at the foot of the Bighorn Mountains. I am also excited that with the list making and the culling of my materials to the bare essentials I’m beginning to see the efforts of seeds planted last fall attempting to break through the frozen ground. I am getting truly excited to paint and paint and paint and paint. I do well with the thought of a witness, and given I’ll be part of a small community of other artists and writers (six of us total) for this upcoming month I am itching to get to work. To sing a painting or five into existence. I am ready to thaw my spirit and open up to the emotional landscape of painting larger works again. I am ready to water the creative soils, to coax brush strokes into something else, to conjure new knowledges from depths I have not yet explored. May your spring (for those of us in the Northern hemisphere) bring you unexpected and exciting new growth on whatever is currently striking your curiosity. May what has laid dormant begin to awaken, with at least as much bliss as a Minnesotan who finally laid eyes on the grass below the snow again.

What I’m Reading

Bad Cree by Jessica Johns

I listened to this book and enjoyed it enough to listen all the way through without taking any breaks. The perfect situation if you find yourself on a 8-hour or more road trip and you pump up the speed on the narration a bit! The story starts with an epigraph about aunties and I absolutely loved this thread of the book. The closeness of sisters and aunties becomes a healing force for the niece/daughter directly afflicted by some troublesome experiences in her dreaming life that begin to affect her waking life. The big bad (I won't spoil for you) is of the folkloric variety though there is also a need for the main character Mackenzie to also navigate the big bad legacies of colonial violence that also end up compounding her grief. In an interview Johns talks about the power in writing about dreaming and what it means to her as a Cree person as a form of knowledge production, and so much more. As someone fascinated by my own dreams I absolutely loved this aspect of the novel. 

What I’m Seeing

Due to circumstances (like preparing for a residency and taking a very quick trip to San Francisco to support my BFF in a play) I wasn't able to stop by and do a proper viewing for a review of the Artist Invitational currently up at the Charles Beck Gallery on the M State Campus in Fergus Falls. However, I can tell you that there are so many artistic works to be seen by many regional artists, and there is a variety of works throughout the entire gallery space. If you're in the area I highly recommend you go check it out - the show is up through May 6, 2023. Keep your eye on this section here where I hope to bring you more compelling reviews of local/regional/MN-based art for you to learn about! Also, if you are a rural MN artist and have work up somewhere in the state - send me a message, I'd love to review your show here in my newsletter!

Creative Ritual

Be sure to check out Calendula Gallery during the Spring St. Paul Art Crawl April 28-30! I am happy to share I am a participating artist (first time!) in this fantastically large art crawl of St. Paul. I submitted a career development grant for my local regional arts council consideration before heading out of town. Grateful to share that one of my Roots painting is included in a virtual exhibition hosted by Midwest Nice art called In Our Place (click that link to see the show). My exit interview for Mineral House Media Digital Residency is also live! The last two weeks have flown by and still I was able to complete some paintings (and sell some small works from my candy series) amidst travel and residency preparations. I'm looking forward to painting up a storm at Jentel Artist Residency where I will be through May 13th (with limited wifi/cell service capability so please give me grace on my communication over the next month because I truly may be out of touch!) 

Questions to ponder

What did you plant last fall that is ready for tending to?
What is ready to emerge from your warming soil?
Who has returned from winter journeying and how are you greeting them?
How might a list help you chronicle the mundane in a way that makes your April memorable?

Thanks for journeying with me. I hope, as always, that you take what you need and leave the rest for someone else, or for another time. 

-KCF

The Art of KCF Newsletter is a fiscal year 2023 recipient of a Creative Support for Individuals grant from the Minnesota State Arts Board. This activity is made possible by the voters of Minnesota through a grant from the Minnesota State Arts Board, thanks to a legislative appropriation from the arts and cultural heritage fund.