Blog Archives

Holy Ground

7/14/2021

“Earth’s crammed with heaven, and every common bush afire with God; but only he who sees takes off his shoes.” - Elizabeth Barrett Browning

The holy ground series officially began with the quote above. I was transitioning out of the wild rose exhibition and seeking clarity on where I’d go next when I came across these words. They brought to focus what had been stirring in me for quite some time.

Do I see the sacred in the everyday - not just in the spectacular but in the ordinary? Where are the burning bushes in my life and do I have the courage to believe this is truly holy ground? Will I heed the Divine invitation to wiggle my toes into the dust and dirt of this life - to pay attention, to listen, to watch and wait?

The works started in autumn with hues reminiscent of a fiery bush and gathered natural materials at the end of their life cycle. They carried on through winter and then stretched into a global pandemic - a season we weren’t expecting nor prepared for. The questions I explored became more poignant than ever. Noticing the beauty and sacredness extended way beyond just the ordinary, mundane, unimpressive and overlooked into the undesired, the lamentable and grief-filled corners. What happens in those places of tension? Could there be anything redeemable or valuable here? Surely if God met Moses in a burning bush in the wilderness He could meet us here too?

holy ground:horizon

mixed media on wood panel
(acrylic, dried leaves, paper, watercolour, tea, plant-dyed fabric)
6" x 6" x 1/2"

We scan the horizon, the barren hush at the end of summer’s growth deceiving us that the abundant season is over. But here, in the chill of the autumn breeze, look among the branches where fragrant petals bloomed not long ago. Here, lest we deny the beauty of descent, the lush green leaves shift into ardent hues.

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holy ground:afire

mixed media collage on paper
(paper, watercolour, pencil, dried flowers, birch bark, wildflower-dyed fabric)
7.25” x 9.25” (framed 16.5” x 12.5”)

As we walk through the wilderness we may feel forgotten, insignificant. Perhaps the story of our past feeds the narrative. In the rugged, in the barren and unexpected places, we are brought to our knees when we hear our name carried in the wind. The Divine calls us, names us, surprises us. We have been seen and we are known - every day counted, every tear collected, every heartache held. Sacred space exists for every part of us.

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holy ground:value

mixed media on canvas
(acrylic, plant material, paper, watercolour, ink)
16" x 20" x 1/4"

Wholeness comes not from denying, ignoring, and exiling parts of ourselves. As I examined the question of anxiety and peace coexisting, all the parts of this artwork finally found their way. (Uncannily, only when I allowed each their own precious space). I discovered that my fears didn’t smother the small seeds of faith I have sown or forfeit all that had been tended to.
The plant material used in this piece is Pennycress, a controversial weed collected and processed in various stages and forms. It is a plant labelled noxious in some areas yet researched for its potential use and value in others.

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holy ground:to train my heart

digital photography on Fuji deep matte paper
7" x 10" (in double mat 11"x14")

How much have I missed, a distracted heart unwilling to surrender? When all is upended and my vision obscured, I have to look intently if I want the fog to clear. There are Holy moments waiting. Around every corner awaits the opportunity to kick off my shoes in utter awe. Oh, to train my eyes - my spirit - my heart - to see.

holy ground:it’ll take some time

mixed media weaving
(mixed fibres, harvested wild grasses, wool, thread, willow)
31" x 15"

What happens when a season stretches on, longer than expected? What will become of us as the season of abundance shifts into dormancy? What happens now - is this still holy ground? Could we be patient here, in the interruption of our plans - to turn our ear to the ground, listening and attentive? What will we discover and how will it inform us?

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holy ground:wild harvest

mixed media weaving
(mixed fibres, wool, harvested wild grasses)
17" x 50"

Have you ever watched the way a field of autumn grass moves at harvest time? Love notes scrolled on every blade, like messages safely stored in bottles making their way across wild waters. Watch them dance in the untamed currents, choreographed yet utterly free - their beauty beckoning for our attention. The grassy sea ebbs and flows, a tapestry of countless woven strokes, singing of our belovedness. With heart and hands wide open, I receive.

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holy ground:ablaze

mixed media sculpture
(columbine, acrylic, wire, rice paper, bark, lichen, thyme)
8" x 4" x 5"

This piece was the second work of the series, created with dried columbine gifted to me from a friend’s garden. Immediately I saw the twisted pods as flickering flames and began to form a burning bush. At the end of the year I returned to the sculpture, compelled to dismantle and begin anew. Sometimes life is like that, begging for a second glance - our heads craned back from further down the path. The painted pods remained along with some of their seeds, which were painted gold. They rest on a foundation of bark and lichen, twisted among dried thyme twigs from my own garden and fiery leaves formed from rice paper, wire and paint.

holy ground:yearning for balm

digital photography on Fuji crystal archive luster paper
7" x 10" (in double mat 11"x14")

I have carried grief in my bones this year. I have longed for beauty, for glimmers of hope, for assurance that someone - anyone - still cares. I have loathed the cacophony of the world while longing for connection, retreating to the wild world to tend to my weary soul. Sometimes the reprieve from the ache - the yearning for a Holy sign - comes unexpectedly. Sometimes it is in these quiet moments - when you finally allow an honest heart cry to spill off your lips - that your breath is simultaneously taken away and restored. Sometimes it descends as a White Pelican on a still lake at sunset. Sometimes.

holy ground: fear|faith

mixed media sculpture
(roots, grass, lichen, rice paper, acrylic, wire, poppy pod, mica powder)
6" x 4" x 5"

How can we navigate the paradoxical nature of fear and faith? Could I be so audacious to ask if something good - or even beautiful - is to be found within this vulnerable place? I believe the answer is yes - that the place that feels unsteady is holy ground too. It is yet another place that God lovingly meets us, whispering courage into our troubled heart, worried minds and weary bodies.

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holy ground:burrow

mixed media sculpture/felting
(wool fibres, clay, plaster, acrylic, gouache, hemp, dried flower petals).
5" x 2" x 2.5”

Many flower bulbs are planted in the fall, plunged underground to endure the winter. That season of dormancy is necessary preparation for summer growth. I wonder how much of this process we take for granted, only marvelling at the blooms that arrive in the warm months. As it is with our own growth, we want to show the world ourselves in full bloom, perhaps even begrudging the seasons of preparation. But what if we, like the bulb, need that time hidden from view to be prepared - formed - developed? When do we ever surrender to a process that isn’t within our control or on our timeline? Where in our lives do we accept the invitation to burrow in this sacred cocoon to emerge transformed?

holy ground:decay

digital photography on Fuji deep matte paper
7" x 10" (in mat 11"x14")

In early winter, the wild world in the grips of dormancy, the forest floor is revealed. It was concealed in the abundance of summer’s growth and now laid bare, divulges its secrets. Fragments of what was once part of the bounty now offer their contribution to the richness of the soil they are becoming.

holy ground:fallow

mixed media sculpture
(wire, foil, tape, rice paper, acrylic, mica powder, wool fibres, thread, ash, dried moss & lichen)
14" x 9" x 3"

Healing comes with the courage to lie fallow. The ground has been worked - prepared - laboured over and plowed under. It is time for rest - for restoration. Bring all the scattered pieces you’ve gathered for they can be laid down in safety here. These collected parts are all the more beautiful now, a tenacious offering of wholeness with tales of our resilience calling out from each golden scar. These imperfect temples, not of glass and stone but flesh and bone, finally surrendered in simply being. This is enough. And here, in the place of heeded invitation, the Divine call has been heard and answered. The space we embody is sacred. This is holy ground.