tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-72964257065119722912024-03-13T01:43:10.644-07:00ARCTIC ART EXPEDITIONStudio art -- Notes from Greenland and BeyondRebecca Barfoothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00084787714415747688noreply@blogger.comBlogger30125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7296425706511972291.post-82469308831151325192014-11-19T16:23:00.001-08:002015-03-15T15:42:03.220-07:00Yukon - Large in your own life<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Total expansiveness -- Tombstone Range, Yukon Territory </td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">A dear friend
wrote me the following words before I left for my artist residencies in northern Canada this summer, and I have carried them like a souvenir
seashell in my pocket for months:</span></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">"So much movement -so much change- so much magic</span></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">You are living in the middle of the best magic and we all can tell </span></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">because the world is giving you everything you need </span></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">not many people can travel this path with you </span></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">and not many ever travel this way at all.</span></b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: small;"> <i> </i></span></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Be <span class="il">large</span> in <span class="il">your</span> <span class="il">own</span> <span class="il">life</span> - the universe says so."</i></span></b></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Small home, big world </i>-- mixed media on paper by Rebecca Barfoot</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">It is mid-November and I am back in southwest Colorado, savoring old friendships while also longing for the north-land and the slow earth pace of life there. This morning I woke thinking yet again, <i>be large in your own life</i>. Me, you, are we doing this? </span></b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>I know that now is the time and it's all about leaping and bounding instead of walking with measured constraint across the open vistas of our lives. </b></span><i><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span> </i> </span> </span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Large as life / bull caribou, Big Alex Ridge, Olgilvie Mountains - Yukon</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Least Weasel - smallest carnivore in North America! - from a backpacking trip to Fold Lake, Blackstone Uplands - Yukon</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">I remind myself that a leap like this is what delivered me to the northern latitudes this summer, and what allowed richly cross-pollinated opportunities in art, ecology, and education to present themselves so that my original 5 week engagement flowed quickly into 5 months!!! Back in the States, a similar trajectory continues and I've just been riding the waves, letting life spill over while landing softly and solidly and bound by gratitude. </span></b></span> <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Rooted and Rising</i> -- mixed media with Yukon blueberry dye on paper -- by Rebecca Barfoot</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">One of the things I noticed immediately in the Yukon was the striking juxtaposition of an impossibly vast
macro-landscape with the equally luminous world of the pixie-sized
microcosm - and how each biome informs the other. The tangle of
sphagnum moss, bog cranberry and reindeer lichen at my feet describes
the endless arc of unbroken wilderness spinning to the horizon even as
they seem to exist separately and as opposites. I know this
relationship is important to explore in the work to come, and that the
intimate as a gateway to the infinite mirrors the idea of small lives
lived large.</span></span></b></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dall sheep - ewes and young - dwarfed in the immensity -- Tombstone Territorial Park, Yukon</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bearberry foliage, high tundra -- Blackstone Uplands, Yukon </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Autumn highlights and color swoon -- Discovery Ridge -- Tombstone Territorial Park, Yukon</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A fairy forest of wintergreen called 'Single Delight' - late summer near Dawson City, Yukon</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><i>Be large in your own life and the work you choose to do</i>, I think, <i>because the world needs this from all of us right now. </i></b></span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nurse log comes to life with sphagnum moss, pixie cup lichen, bearberry and more - Klondike River Valley, Yukon</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Hang on, Yukon</i> -- mixed media on canvas by Rebecca Barfoot</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Saxifrage -- brilliant, adaptable survivors of the north -- Angelcomb Peak, Tombstone Territorial Park, Yukon</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">Writes Sally Kempton, Buddhist scholar and Dharma teacher, in her recent book <i>Awakening Shakti:</i> "Our awareness is not only connected to the power of awareness in other creatures, but it is also a miniature version of the great awareness that is the source of all that is. The subtle worlds that lie between the transcendent vastness and the physical universe are also inside our own subtle bodies, ready to be experienced by anyone who has the stamina and grace to enter into the inner world of the heart."</span></b></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: small;"><i>And the heart of the world</i>, I would add. The microcosm coursing through our ancient aliveness, firing the pulse of our being. We share this and yet we have forgotten it. It is time to remember. </span></b></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Swallowtail at rest on caribou moss -- Olgilvie Mountains, Yukon</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Rebecca Barfoothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00084787714415747688noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7296425706511972291.post-69226756691764263532014-08-26T14:35:00.002-07:002014-08-26T14:43:14.709-07:00Small Work, Big Ideas: YUKON<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Late night after rain, North Klondike River valley, Tombstone Mountains, Yukon</td></tr>
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<![endif]--><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">A sliver of blue braves the milky white
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rain in these Yukon mountains and a nearly sun-filled pause in the low dome of
moisture leaves me grinning. I can cling to blue and its possibilities. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The bluest blue. I live for these days!!! </td></tr>
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I didn’t know I’d be spending the whole summer in northern Canada.
It’s become late August. I am pioneering an artist in residence program
at Tombstone Territorial Park, camping and working with the park’s Interpretive
Centre on arts/ecology education while also tending the fires of my own
creativity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m exploring the
land as much as possible, smitten by a revolving presentation of
rainbows and ethereal twilight as we move deeply
into fall. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyoMaQqlWzQiCZDWwhat7Ex-rKsXwUKyq1RJ21cMnF5658HvL2TgpQvlFPKmGfjgr6oSGig3xTKfxK6rIA7cI9QsacjeUi_4ormpf61tQxDgb9Qj8wA6S5a8kQ6cyC801RDCas1X_MQlQ/s1600/Tombstones+008.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyoMaQqlWzQiCZDWwhat7Ex-rKsXwUKyq1RJ21cMnF5658HvL2TgpQvlFPKmGfjgr6oSGig3xTKfxK6rIA7cI9QsacjeUi_4ormpf61tQxDgb9Qj8wA6S5a8kQ6cyC801RDCas1X_MQlQ/s1600/Tombstones+008.jpg" height="420" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rainbow and oncoming storm near North Fork Pass, Tombstone Mountains, Yukon</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Beneath the daily flow of art and teaching I'm privately trying wrap my head/heart around the sense
of raw wilderness that – delightfully and astonishingly – surrounds me here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is truly <i>awe</i>some, in the same way that glaciers
and icebergs were for me in Greenland.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am small here, surrounded by dreams as fast
and wide as the waterways that cleave these moss-covered hills.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I am learning to let the earth cradle me when
it feels like nothing else can or will.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNfmVFXqTRlVHqWUrvHNJiU8NXNikHNA2rOChyFLGmeolKedQiO2uXhrOd5Y1TkRDGBiR8tKOkvYPpTuPh-ir4Jxq5Ec9wvFmrRs304MqJIvkHyojDFh75B1ija5KmJEyl9XmlLkxeQXs/s1600/Drunken+black+spruce+forest.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNfmVFXqTRlVHqWUrvHNJiU8NXNikHNA2rOChyFLGmeolKedQiO2uXhrOd5Y1TkRDGBiR8tKOkvYPpTuPh-ir4Jxq5Ec9wvFmrRs304MqJIvkHyojDFh75B1ija5KmJEyl9XmlLkxeQXs/s1600/Drunken+black+spruce+forest.jpg" height="246" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Drunken Spruce / Forest Family", acrylic on tree-free paper</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1iKkJYQp1ZqQkf-j4LTvMrI52G-XlnONwnDq_fKItM1h0xtj6I6s1NnxCNgDsSvRO9JDRAXQTja26Ic47dUId1-r_fdDgsDRdcWJgWYt-eQ5bXsBZHs-Wa6ksX5MiCN4b8WRE7nWWVJo/s1600/Tombstones+001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1iKkJYQp1ZqQkf-j4LTvMrI52G-XlnONwnDq_fKItM1h0xtj6I6s1NnxCNgDsSvRO9JDRAXQTja26Ic47dUId1-r_fdDgsDRdcWJgWYt-eQ5bXsBZHs-Wa6ksX5MiCN4b8WRE7nWWVJo/s1600/Tombstones+001.jpg" height="414" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tundra Raven, Olgilvie Mountains, Yukon. Mixed media on tree-free paper.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I’ve stumbled upon what I call a last place, an ecosystem still incredibly undisturbed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We have no reference point for this in
the South - the lower 48 - and I understand how fragmented everything has become. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">Wilderness</span> like this takes your breath away,
leaving you mute and grasping for a tether to guide you home across the tracks
of moose, caribou, grizzly and wolf.<br />
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<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPs1UShbjkh_BBHEUi7qOdW4rb0g59fAU1mf9X6H6eX5jiTqPCWsh2_IdpC97YNyJ6zty6v60GfcGKeKHMxEjM68ZDjYkHRPcSmclqGWHWPev61I5CRI_i4G_ZO55bj56XIlXwMj5kzaQ/s1600/caribou+antler+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPs1UShbjkh_BBHEUi7qOdW4rb0g59fAU1mf9X6H6eX5jiTqPCWsh2_IdpC97YNyJ6zty6v60GfcGKeKHMxEjM68ZDjYkHRPcSmclqGWHWPev61I5CRI_i4G_ZO55bj56XIlXwMj5kzaQ/s1600/caribou+antler+1.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Caribou antlers fall where they may in Tombstone Territorial Park, Yukon. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I haven’t had much online access here this last month.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We are solar powered and off grid at the visitor center where I work.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m finally returning to social media and
this blog, overwhelmed with how to begin and what to say of my current
experience in the north.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know that
photographs are a great place to start, though they reveal only the surface
rather than the soul of these cloud-topped mountains, spruce forest, and
sub-arctic tundra.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgGWHLaFIpDz_PNqCxaVLqPvwEuhHtjuNzp4fgyln9KBIPBfk8r7qFcJMkYVwHVnJmBK7nKniQ5RSddSncEnjw1YVtofivcgdXxQ2A3mL79NxcPwEKedqWVZifDEH_fuXzWQgoBCG0XyY/s1600/small+tent+big+world.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgGWHLaFIpDz_PNqCxaVLqPvwEuhHtjuNzp4fgyln9KBIPBfk8r7qFcJMkYVwHVnJmBK7nKniQ5RSddSncEnjw1YVtofivcgdXxQ2A3mL79NxcPwEKedqWVZifDEH_fuXzWQgoBCG0XyY/s1600/small+tent+big+world.jpg" height="468" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Small home / big big world", mixed media on watercolor paper</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Artist’s residencies are one part making/creating and one
part looking and seeing. I'm constantly alert as if I’m scanning for grizzly on
the horizon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Right now my days are
heavily weighted to accommodate a growing cache of impressions to be doled out
slowly in the coming months.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am the alpine
pika stockpiling food for winter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My voluminous
notes, research and outdoor adventures in the Territory are crucial sustenance
to carry me forward.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Creating art from
raw experience, distilling wonder into something articulate and palatable while
capturing the ephemeral - it takes time.
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRUmq1gtsEfJyiswnE3jgVtaPnf4J26tughuzsiUirG3b6PjnUhK3EQu9lcLh_LPUfUn1GhBBiD4Pucf_Fb-Aka6NxAsLhGtEL1BhpynYq1goS-wLWsdS8yrgyacUbWaMf1u2pvED18Qo/s1600/Ravens+over+the+Divide,+mixed+media.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRUmq1gtsEfJyiswnE3jgVtaPnf4J26tughuzsiUirG3b6PjnUhK3EQu9lcLh_LPUfUn1GhBBiD4Pucf_Fb-Aka6NxAsLhGtEL1BhpynYq1goS-wLWsdS8yrgyacUbWaMf1u2pvED18Qo/s1600/Ravens+over+the+Divide,+mixed+media.jpg" height="468" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Ravens over the Continental Divide", Tombstone Mountains, Yukon. Mixed media on watercolor paper.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
Rebecca Barfoothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00084787714415747688noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7296425706511972291.post-37964234018741125872014-06-18T17:52:00.000-07:002014-06-18T17:55:55.643-07:00Yukon!! -- Boreal Forest Art and Ecology<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_SJwfQjxQenn1MVi0BegJhXa8sxgsxJWeD9FseASjguUCHwlAuXi4VzwXzJ_Ii7OrmJcMikHUyxKPV4aP6_xWCO2La8b9CReCyPIbS91IK9HCKqDPWm81RRil4eIOqP3HzSo46GeZgkE/s1600/YUKON+029.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_SJwfQjxQenn1MVi0BegJhXa8sxgsxJWeD9FseASjguUCHwlAuXi4VzwXzJ_Ii7OrmJcMikHUyxKPV4aP6_xWCO2La8b9CReCyPIbS91IK9HCKqDPWm81RRil4eIOqP3HzSo46GeZgkE/s1600/YUKON+029.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Local art adorns the hardwood forest of birch and poplar outside Dawson City, Yukon Territory. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span class="userContent"> Greetings from the land of the
midnight sun!! I've traveled North again and this time I'm writing from an artist's residency at the
Klondike Institute of Art in Dawson City, Yukon Territory, CANADA. I'm thrilled to be here. </span><br />
<span class="userContent"><br /></span>
<span class="userContent">My initial draw to the Yukon was to continue investigating the tally on wild lands in the North as our planet continues to warm up and get crowded. I also want to know what "big wild"
really feels like, and to (re)consider the notion of <i>Last Places </i>that I began with in Arctic Greenland<i>. Does undeveloped, non-industrialized land exist in any meaningful context in this world now and what does it look like beyond a remnant of a romantic ideal?</i> </span><br />
<br />
<span class="userContent">I'm happy to say that from my ground level post here in the northwest corner of
Canada, the land appears to be doing well. My immediate sense is this: earth as utterly staggering in scope and impossibly vast. I'm aware there's much more to the story than this, but for now I think, <i>take it and run with it. </i></span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDmczCYoEu0MEL_ASNEDGlb7jXpCOSv0KnWVolP9xrSPXj0Ech1ZRNJBx_Rb80bC6G_n_QqIDv7OlIDKlJ2zvPKBjeFm0VesJnFEIqDCZyxD0UKBaMvIMfJlg17LOXWU6uDsS3KUxcono/s1600/Twilight+with+Spring+May+3.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDmczCYoEu0MEL_ASNEDGlb7jXpCOSv0KnWVolP9xrSPXj0Ech1ZRNJBx_Rb80bC6G_n_QqIDv7OlIDKlJ2zvPKBjeFm0VesJnFEIqDCZyxD0UKBaMvIMfJlg17LOXWU6uDsS3KUxcono/s1600/Twilight+with+Spring+May+3.jpg" height="243" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Thaw" -- Mixed media on tree-free paper by Rebecca Barfoot.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<br />
<span class="userContent">There's also a secondary and more personal magnetism that drew me to northern Canada: I've been obsessed with trees since I traveled to Greenland. They've worked their way into my paintings, sculpture, and into my earth-bound, starlit imagination. There are no trees in Greenland - and it occurs to me that perhaps I've fallen in love with absence. </span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsuHFJ551ILNB23bddOWFp_1qoywWxsO_GcapLtEhq-Gkl0YJSXO5p_OPOjOwCxXhuJ5Tbx6ER_J8n1IJkJWdhon2P1BZC8sZk7YVGMGsrqz86U0YZNCAbCN2DTiHmIJW5Hy6-pfochas/s1600/10309757_687472024650732_1114286493125121798_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsuHFJ551ILNB23bddOWFp_1qoywWxsO_GcapLtEhq-Gkl0YJSXO5p_OPOjOwCxXhuJ5Tbx6ER_J8n1IJkJWdhon2P1BZC8sZk7YVGMGsrqz86U0YZNCAbCN2DTiHmIJW5Hy6-pfochas/s1600/10309757_687472024650732_1114286493125121798_n.jpg" height="640" width="432" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Mother/Bear Boreal" -- Cyanotype with mixed media by Rebecca Barfoot. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span class="userContent">The Yukon is dominated by boreal forest, the largest terrestrial biome on Earth. Known at <i>taiga</i> across Russia, it's the green halo of northern woodland that girdles our globe just south of the Arctic tundra, serving as Earth's "cooler" and regulating temperatures worldwide. </span></div>
<span class="userContent"><br /></span>
<span class="userContent">Here around Dawson, the boreal consists largely of paper birch, black and white spruce, balsam poplar and aspen. A walk in the woods for me, on a more intimate level, is to feel cradled, sheltered, and supported. One of the more subtle and nuanced interests I have as an artist concerns the <i>internal</i> landscape - both personal and collective - and how it reflects the state of our natural environment. I am beginning to explore the mirroring of inner/outer landscapes in my work.</span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit9JeRCXookbyqe-0tH6gL6b3VOBZhpkbG-HXbtv3Bxi2AeIDGTUqMofcW4myMsdskEyiWUhFcjVWhfVmhYyqCQEps1tCdO9Bale2ZWZu9pjR1VfB1n-fHo2S7zo4JkU53WUAF6P4CLbQ/s1600/Northern+night+magic+study+7+TREES+yum+TS.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit9JeRCXookbyqe-0tH6gL6b3VOBZhpkbG-HXbtv3Bxi2AeIDGTUqMofcW4myMsdskEyiWUhFcjVWhfVmhYyqCQEps1tCdO9Bale2ZWZu9pjR1VfB1n-fHo2S7zo4JkU53WUAF6P4CLbQ/s1600/Northern+night+magic+study+7+TREES+yum+TS.jpg" height="227" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Deep Forest -- Mixed media on tree-free paper by Rebecca Barfoot.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<span class="userContent">Beyond the poetry of trees in form/metaphor is my growing awareness of the biological
imperative of the forest in function. Large volumes of boreal woodland are logged for paper pulp (cardboard boxes, magazines, catalogs, paper towels etc), oil and gas extraction (<a href="http://ngm.nationalgeographic.com/2009/03/canadian-oil-sands/essick-photography" target="_blank">Alberta tar sands</a>...), mining and general money-making. But destroy the forest and you eliminate the planet's most effective method of uptaking (via photosynthesis) and storing atmospheric carbon dioxide </span><span class="userContent"><span class="userContent"> (in both living and dead plant matter)</span>. </span><br />
<br />
One of the byproducts of our shifting climate is the phenomenon of <a href="http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/2014/04/140417-drunken-trees-melting-permafrost-global-warming-science/" target="_blank">"drunken" trees in the boreal</a>, tilted and falling as the permafrost thaws beneath them. Earlier this month I noticed stretches of lurching stumbling tumbling black spruce (picea mariana) on the 330 mile stretch
of road between Whitehorse and Dawson. It's terribly wrong - and oddly
beautiful.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4urg5o8pO6wlRL8gEq0Vxvxa527uN0KptWe4eGDHUeu-4oM02ET9Ob-73XnwtlDliYt4_6nIY5X6Azk4OMvOWf4qJs1POVkTjf3dkPhSE917n_d0w3b98YeeczThRofXw175JZShvec8/s1600/78805_990x742-cb1397738758.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4urg5o8pO6wlRL8gEq0Vxvxa527uN0KptWe4eGDHUeu-4oM02ET9Ob-73XnwtlDliYt4_6nIY5X6Azk4OMvOWf4qJs1POVkTjf3dkPhSE917n_d0w3b98YeeczThRofXw175JZShvec8/s1600/78805_990x742-cb1397738758.jpg" height="424" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">New pond-scape created from melting permafrost, Alaska Range -- Photo Credit: Michael S Quinton</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGaDV2h30k5TW9qHeaKpdNFmITuwkXOb0ePhCt6or7Fu2XEaC7c1Z60o5mzbe7moKGm0zyXYsJChxNfV5BZHgxdfkC2QMARyUbL6mT0DkRoYTwu21IKZt6a0aZwNuUAd0YZJJslkQwiH8/s1600/IMG_9485_1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGaDV2h30k5TW9qHeaKpdNFmITuwkXOb0ePhCt6or7Fu2XEaC7c1Z60o5mzbe7moKGm0zyXYsJChxNfV5BZHgxdfkC2QMARyUbL6mT0DkRoYTwu21IKZt6a0aZwNuUAd0YZJJslkQwiH8/s1600/IMG_9485_1.JPG" height="260" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Drunken" Black Spruce, Yukon. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivPUMMAwIw3qxvaZZ6ejJuN4DGsSwCTBC2yMVWcfb4aIa2VkC6P-5HjYjakBgW_YebsQT_4idsIaH3nweMJICMFrLQ-Z-2kiNhGimB9du9DYhSL5-BzMEcHzCjidcO6aUE2e2MvYS-I2M/s1600/YUKON+014.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivPUMMAwIw3qxvaZZ6ejJuN4DGsSwCTBC2yMVWcfb4aIa2VkC6P-5HjYjakBgW_YebsQT_4idsIaH3nweMJICMFrLQ-Z-2kiNhGimB9du9DYhSL5-BzMEcHzCjidcO6aUE2e2MvYS-I2M/s1600/YUKON+014.jpg" height="640" width="396" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Tilt", Yukon Territory, Canada. Mixed media on cyanotype by Rebecca Barfoot. </td></tr>
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More soon, with love from the North, Rebecca @ <a href="http://www.rebeccabarfoot.com/" target="_blank">www.rebeccabarfoot.com</a><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><i>...like action rising out of stillness, all wings and quiet thunder. <span style="font-size: x-small;"> -</span></i><span style="font-size: x-small;">R.Barfoot, May 2014</span></span><br />
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<br />Rebecca Barfoothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00084787714415747688noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7296425706511972291.post-78324606119662788592014-02-23T14:56:00.000-08:002014-04-03T11:16:58.271-07:0025 at 9,500' -- A Winter Artist's Residency<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPH04B0tju4xz6toS1bx7orBpbKDvSfr-ZunW3Ei68JtyIdq8I59RzFnmQ2uNV0PXpnZjx4ElTMWyZtlXfGbhYrag1gmqX8Og4DR8_cG5WugKfdr9yQhgyF_CNPGIptITYeNpZQwl2A-4/s1600/Tin+Shop+Feb+9+14+001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPH04B0tju4xz6toS1bx7orBpbKDvSfr-ZunW3Ei68JtyIdq8I59RzFnmQ2uNV0PXpnZjx4ElTMWyZtlXfGbhYrag1gmqX8Og4DR8_cG5WugKfdr9yQhgyF_CNPGIptITYeNpZQwl2A-4/s1600/Tin+Shop+Feb+9+14+001.jpg" height="258" width="320" /></a></div>
Breckenridge, Colorado. 9,500 feet above sea level. Deep snow angled against the studio, more white falling from the sky, a swirling winter wonderland. I've made myself at home in the historic Tin Shop, which was bought and renovated by the town's well endowed Arts/Historic District and is now offered as a cozy guest artist's live/work space. I was a resident here in 2009 and had the good fortune of being invited back for the month of February. I am now in the midst of 25+ days to make all the art I can make - and I'm off and running!!<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj94vOsFtV6HDOwAI6gfmG0trNe5jAmFjmKWGEuGWXs17d_5gzOBb8VDD8j0jCEDclD-CfSnjspC6HoYmZn14uDw1YUAfx6ntTHkHZSfnuLbJvnBv32skyFonL-RVtVWfVShH9gurs4NZ0/s1600/15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj94vOsFtV6HDOwAI6gfmG0trNe5jAmFjmKWGEuGWXs17d_5gzOBb8VDD8j0jCEDclD-CfSnjspC6HoYmZn14uDw1YUAfx6ntTHkHZSfnuLbJvnBv32skyFonL-RVtVWfVShH9gurs4NZ0/s1600/15.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Winter in Breckenridge... snowy Wonderland!!!! </td></tr>
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As always, I've come bearing some notion of my intended projects, but I
always allow myself to follow creative tangents as they arise. It's a bit like tracking an animal through the forest on a winter's day, fun and then fruitless, hopeful and maddening! Now on my ninth official artist's residency program, I've
learned that this is <i>the best time </i>to explore brand new creative ideas and to allow myself to wander into uncharted territory with complete abandon. Since I work in a variety
of different media, this can lead to some frantic overwhelm - along
with sleepless nights - but I am going with it!!<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdZ-qJsZWgK4DnvogetgXzbRF-4P13Zdr3jU_y34nrXL9aP89cwJkqJnAjL49XYCaraazsTYMPW3TViGNHPxzDKPPNynd4k66T0CwuL0c4-FCrnaii_7h6SgeLZsoLm_1oL51Pb_cDo_Y/s1600/lay+down+your+grief+and+kiss+the+ground+-+rebecca+barfoot+-+mixed+media+on+panel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdZ-qJsZWgK4DnvogetgXzbRF-4P13Zdr3jU_y34nrXL9aP89cwJkqJnAjL49XYCaraazsTYMPW3TViGNHPxzDKPPNynd4k66T0CwuL0c4-FCrnaii_7h6SgeLZsoLm_1oL51Pb_cDo_Y/s1600/lay+down+your+grief+and+kiss+the+ground+-+rebecca+barfoot+-+mixed+media+on+panel.jpg" height="396" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Lay Down Your Grief And Kiss The Ground" -- a mixed media piece I created for a traveling exhibit called 'Down the Rabbit Hole'... </td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWs3unL5oq9t_2HScYwGXXLSPFib2b3W4amexBW1UFSEhU2P6KtUGggpNUq3e_5Z3tBitrzsM4Hi4Kz3UGM3CeFRPYCiy4SWuc1Cw8uhcMAnmqwQ3krbw7I5jT-I90e0IoNDwurhyJv6U/s1600/Tin+Shop+Feb+9+14+009.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWs3unL5oq9t_2HScYwGXXLSPFib2b3W4amexBW1UFSEhU2P6KtUGggpNUq3e_5Z3tBitrzsM4Hi4Kz3UGM3CeFRPYCiy4SWuc1Cw8uhcMAnmqwQ3krbw7I5jT-I90e0IoNDwurhyJv6U/s1600/Tin+Shop+Feb+9+14+009.jpg" height="400" width="318" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Earth/Ice Listening" -- Studio installation in progress with encaustic wax, discarded paper towels, charcoal, xerox transfer and pencil drawing.</td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcC8t50PXByYnP_m5AAehQIzLrHCAwDMYdzYCEoMwDIibEs6RKpX16icqypzUQidQdtp78IdHiru32ySAXTakQrcchyphenhyphenvCi8lWDBbb5xpza5R4t27BHD63TktnngbBnYJjR6ls3nAR35ZI/s1600/Tin+Shop+Feb+9+14+009.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcC8t50PXByYnP_m5AAehQIzLrHCAwDMYdzYCEoMwDIibEs6RKpX16icqypzUQidQdtp78IdHiru32ySAXTakQrcchyphenhyphenvCi8lWDBbb5xpza5R4t27BHD63TktnngbBnYJjR6ls3nAR35ZI/s1600/Tin+Shop+Feb+9+14+009.jpg" height="315" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Tea Series/Mindfulness" -- work in progress -- discarded tea/bags, Usnea, map, paper towel, beeswax, damar resin, box elder seeds, and ink on paper handmade from old lists, fliers, junk mail. </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjf_aD-P4TEuW0WSO_rNlsHDha57nD7P57b9NjiGtpFZToxao4jBinZaQey_WrXkBt7dEeRHE3STduhZF0CxVskG29NFRo8ILAUtmFNDqXkHvO9rVrw3eX1a5RpZ_SeQRyB0AiWyp1FyQ/s1600/Tin+Shop+Feb+9+14+010.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjf_aD-P4TEuW0WSO_rNlsHDha57nD7P57b9NjiGtpFZToxao4jBinZaQey_WrXkBt7dEeRHE3STduhZF0CxVskG29NFRo8ILAUtmFNDqXkHvO9rVrw3eX1a5RpZ_SeQRyB0AiWyp1FyQ/s1600/Tin+Shop+Feb+9+14+010.jpg" height="467" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Tulugaq/Raven of the North" -- ink, charcoal, and acrylic on tree-free paper</td></tr>
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Along with developing new projects, I've also finished a large
commission piece for a buyer who shares my appreciation of raptors and
other winged thing<i>s: Tulugaq</i>/Raven, whose range takes her into the Arctic. I'm currently working on a second commissioned
painting, <i>Falling into Blue</i>, which is a creative exploration of color, feeling, and possibility. As a friend writes, "the breezy surface pulls you in... and
then you fall into the mystery." To me, blue is the essence of what I found in the very far north - rock and ice, sea and sky - and a reflection of the world that lives inside us all. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQgFJbuIO6m9UZ4tG0hyLZcIis03s3jT05Ovr9p1NNBUwPPaCV1OvDYpG99d0u-qA-mtkFAKY4WU2fxk6c0f1y-nacFNXFES-cGFnS7amHV4PmYHHEHc0lbwGN6mNjE6vyqS7UC9dfa40/s1600/northscape+night+magic+study+3+JO+owns.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQgFJbuIO6m9UZ4tG0hyLZcIis03s3jT05Ovr9p1NNBUwPPaCV1OvDYpG99d0u-qA-mtkFAKY4WU2fxk6c0f1y-nacFNXFES-cGFnS7amHV4PmYHHEHc0lbwGN6mNjE6vyqS7UC9dfa40/s1600/northscape+night+magic+study+3+JO+owns.jpg" height="236" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Northern Nightscape Ice-land Aurora Love", study #7, ink and acrylic on tree-free paper</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPWDwnXxOqy0LzFVYjuOoIGGeZ8qQy8oUTJgGOFBAw2zkmwGYwGjocMbkUq2zChQlcANyIwUam_RtqiiPdELL3ZBcnQzko9ElGh8BfBzqOZ9srnX49UUId3OyKLtcsNZqk4VkVm2aAKuM/s1600/Tin+Shop+Feb+9+14+011.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPWDwnXxOqy0LzFVYjuOoIGGeZ8qQy8oUTJgGOFBAw2zkmwGYwGjocMbkUq2zChQlcANyIwUam_RtqiiPdELL3ZBcnQzko9ElGh8BfBzqOZ9srnX49UUId3OyKLtcsNZqk4VkVm2aAKuM/s1600/Tin+Shop+Feb+9+14+011.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A pile of my hand made paper in the Tin Shop. Such pleasure in recycling my To-Do lists into creativity!!</td></tr>
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I'm exploring more ideas about Greenland and the Arctic; about land-earth-ice, climate-environment-ecology, human relationships and how the din of our lives can keep us from hearing feeling seeing knowing. I also find myself creating simple works of art that are - essentially - a celebration of life and aliveness. The beautiful miracle of it all, like a love letter to Greenland penciled around the girth of the planet.<br />
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I've also discovered a relationship between Breckenridge - this cute snowbound ski town in the high Rockies - and the Arctic: our climate delivers the possibilities of change more swiftly to those places that are either high up, or <i>far up</i>. Altitude vs. latitude. Here the snow drives fast and hard, while at home in southwest Colorado, drought is the hallmark of the current winter season. What next??<br />
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For me, I've been invited to go North again this summer, to live and work in Canada's Yukon Territory at the Klondike Institute of Art. May I discover there an untangled pathway to creating sculpture, installation, painted images, porcelain objects and word-craft that resonate with meaning and reach beyond me into the vastness. As the poet Mary Oliver has written, "I want to be improbable amd beautiful and afraid of nothing, as if I had wings." Onward. ~ Rebecca Barfoothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00084787714415747688noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7296425706511972291.post-62087365301931329572013-12-19T12:52:00.000-08:002014-02-23T22:26:25.591-08:00Canyonlands/Crepuscular<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiosdBw_L2EOhWEkQ5klS8HYHLzSyPo9Yc485rZijWSmaUFVHpBLw0FrS6SiEng6Sz-IO8cVAGRgHcSFsRciqvRqZNtiapeEX5iB9fE3b2VR3OlDOUqCtp9_GGN_vK4IllEPASXV9xp_48/s1600/mostly+landscape+023.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiosdBw_L2EOhWEkQ5klS8HYHLzSyPo9Yc485rZijWSmaUFVHpBLw0FrS6SiEng6Sz-IO8cVAGRgHcSFsRciqvRqZNtiapeEX5iB9fE3b2VR3OlDOUqCtp9_GGN_vK4IllEPASXV9xp_48/s400/mostly+landscape+023.jpg" height="265" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Frozen kettle ponds of melted snow adorn the redrock near home. Canyonlands National Park, Utah.</td></tr>
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<span class="userContent"><i>Crepuscular</i> means to be active at dawn and dusk, like a bobcat, a puma - a creature of stealth, alert and watchful. Here in the desert, the dawn of the day and the long finale of twilight are my cherished moments. </span><br />
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<span class="userContent">I've accepted an invitation to create art in Canyonlands National Park for one solitary winter month. It's currently the off-season and the world rings with silence. Snow has settled like a thin blanket over the redrock and the
stillness is absolute. I am loving it. My greetings to dawn and dusk are a salutation to earth: <i>thank you. </i></span><br />
<br />
<span class="userContent">This morning I rolled out of bed to walk under the
stars before the sun before the ravens before I was really
even awake, the frigid-oh-my crackle of ice and frozen desert grass
under my boots. Orion overhead, North Six Shooter on the eastern
horizon, gaining light. Here: a spaciousness as wide and deep as my heart, a place called home. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaAHiRY7ZPamkk6G21YpK5X0mMoEFNRxax3TW0Ngw7GPc3fx64z_V3E37a-gn_FWGXJPDttWYe4tIoi-XotIniagrIaXOr51Fjtmb6uOvRtrrcmvuk-2WOruYqWfpAtEa2hWb-jPYp2NI/s1600/snow+bunting+034.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaAHiRY7ZPamkk6G21YpK5X0mMoEFNRxax3TW0Ngw7GPc3fx64z_V3E37a-gn_FWGXJPDttWYe4tIoi-XotIniagrIaXOr51Fjtmb6uOvRtrrcmvuk-2WOruYqWfpAtEa2hWb-jPYp2NI/s400/snow+bunting+034.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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Twilight is the bright, sparkling in-between time, and I understand how
comfortable I've become in this. In transitions of space and
seasons, I finally relax into the mystery that threads all of creation
together. I'm reminded that I am - we are- so small and fragile, yet as unbounded as clear luminous light. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkVlEOBua-b6IvnX7ZXzRa7rECxHPP10GrHkSJur7L3u_G9Z_K_khkmQFRW9-9Z14n0SYqCQsntdMYObhyphenhyphenqgDwfIpcfPNFXi0C2fG_TCSJ6A7jt32I72nJcH6k0m4OGKLJArBXG3xpl18/s400/albatross+love+006.jpg" height="400" width="271" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">To be fragile: Little Auk rides swing in a storm! India ink and acrylic on paper. </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Late night, before bed, I step outside into the darkness to listen to the desert, my ears straining to hear something. Only this: the sound of my own heartbeat thrumming in my ears. The faint hum of life beneath the noise. The sound of a planet at rest. <br />
<br />
<span class="userContent">There is a parallel to this open canyon country and the Arctic. Both speak to me in the same language. Both describe a prevailing natural rhythm where stars take the place of street lights and the illuminated glare of big box stores. There is a timelessness here that captivates me daily. I fantasize about never leaving. </span><br />
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In the act of making art exists this same expansiveness. Writes Terry Tempest Williams in her book, <i>When Women Were Birds</i>, "Creativity is another form of open space, whose very nature is to
disturb, disrupt, and bring us to tenderness<i>." Yes, I think. YES.</i><span class="userContent"> </span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHcDTcboLebou7fd4URVIr0uly_oPp2dKXOtnvVn99EqPMVM-3f_6Uoc3t9O753aJIPkLi5duC2kgrMSpDEHqo7s7nRSbyMyz_Hwdz3CAdAFgP4SUWYctFsUGZdb5Mioh7CiwOtQjafo8/s1600/snow+bunting+016.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHcDTcboLebou7fd4URVIr0uly_oPp2dKXOtnvVn99EqPMVM-3f_6Uoc3t9O753aJIPkLi5duC2kgrMSpDEHqo7s7nRSbyMyz_Hwdz3CAdAFgP4SUWYctFsUGZdb5Mioh7CiwOtQjafo8/s400/snow+bunting+016.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A dusting of fresh powder near the house, and a brand new day at Canyonlands.</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="userContent">Hush, the world<br /> like the desert dawn draped <br /> in her sweater of white.<br /> In silence <br /> all things are possible. </span></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="userContent">-R.Barfoot, December 2013</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="userContent">Canyonlands NP, Utah </span></div>
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<br />Rebecca Barfoothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00084787714415747688noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7296425706511972291.post-74992930385795577692013-12-10T13:44:00.000-08:002013-12-10T13:45:08.529-08:00Wings of Winter<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZF9piEQwVY7qdsjpov7MJOcRILIvSZ8cXIXGLKdoLiFDlLOnyjNnsRyX07AxI-bauI1XCjoxS9vKrzeQcpQLptHOKTqkfTOmB-6dVD_dKD7WrOQTD7bT3hQHquuurgUhd5hSOLAS5trU/s1600/snow+bunting+006.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="412" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZF9piEQwVY7qdsjpov7MJOcRILIvSZ8cXIXGLKdoLiFDlLOnyjNnsRyX07AxI-bauI1XCjoxS9vKrzeQcpQLptHOKTqkfTOmB-6dVD_dKD7WrOQTD7bT3hQHquuurgUhd5hSOLAS5trU/s640/snow+bunting+006.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Snow Bunting/<span class="kno-fv"><span class="kno-fv-vq fl" data-vq="/search?client=firefox-a&hs=9lB&rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official&q=%22snow+bunting%22+%22scientific+name%22+%22plectrophenax+nivalis%22&stick=H4sIAAAAAAAAAGOovnz8BQMDAz8HsxKnfq6-gWFWeXGeA2ORxtLtUWHbjnWL1Ounu69PvqQnIAkAQRqT5ywAAAA">Plectrophenax nivalis. India ink and acrylic on paper. </span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".r[3jx7n].[1][3][1]{comment10151881952208049_27943250}.[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3]"><span data-reactid=".r[3jx7n].[1][3][1]{comment10151881952208049_27943250}.[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3].[0]"><span data-reactid=".r[3jx7n].[1][3][1]{comment10151881952208049_27943250}.[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3].[0].[0]"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Birds are in my heart these days, flapping mightily into metaphor and song with the deepening of winter. The more I tune into them - and the more they flutter around inside me - the more astonishing/magical I find them. I've been watching raptors and juncos here in the canyon country of southern Utah, but also thinking about the birds of the far north and far south. And I've been painting them. </span></span></span></span><br />
<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".r[3jx7n].[1][3][1]{comment10151881952208049_27943250}.[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3]"><span data-reactid=".r[3jx7n].[1][3][1]{comment10151881952208049_27943250}.[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3].[0]"><span data-reactid=".r[3jx7n].[1][3][1]{comment10151881952208049_27943250}.[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3].[0].[0]"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> </span></span></span></span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWBYpmlOSM-HtTavMPWVE4EHqGPKvp7GwOjJ7jd30dn9iFd2U_Ihz1oweEglMvzGEpv8qPtAdWJlAgcHo-fo4Q4tu_5k2FKX3bUwn6s9yhgNCk5heasf1PUDlkGi0GCe-0hxlbBJAXobY/s1600/006a.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWBYpmlOSM-HtTavMPWVE4EHqGPKvp7GwOjJ7jd30dn9iFd2U_Ihz1oweEglMvzGEpv8qPtAdWJlAgcHo-fo4Q4tu_5k2FKX3bUwn6s9yhgNCk5heasf1PUDlkGi0GCe-0hxlbBJAXobY/s640/006a.JPG" width="409" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Arctic Tern/<span class="kno-fv"><span class="kno-fv-vq fl" data-vq="/search?client=firefox-a&hs=P4q&rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official&q=%22arctic+tern%22+%22scientific+name%22+%22sterna+paradisaea%22&stick=H4sIAAAAAAAAAGOovnz8BQMDAz8HsxKnfq6-gWFWYUaJA2O_0b0ZkY_Kpzxlfdydl_ewzX7PPi8AupXtZiwAAAA">Sterna paradisaea. India ink and acrylic on tree-free paper. </span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".r[3jx7n].[1][3][1]{comment10151881952208049_27943250}.[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3]"><span data-reactid=".r[3jx7n].[1][3][1]{comment10151881952208049_27943250}.[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3].[0]"><span data-reactid=".r[3jx7n].[1][3][1]{comment10151881952208049_27943250}.[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3].[0].[0]">Arctic Tern. Notorious for their </span></span></span></span><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".r[3jx7n].[1][3][1]{comment10151881952208049_27943250}.[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3]"><span data-reactid=".r[3jx7n].[1][3][1]{comment10151881952208049_27943250}.[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3].[0]"><span data-reactid=".r[3jx7n].[1][3][1]{comment10151881952208049_27943250}.[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3].[0].[0]"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">epic
migrations, these fleet birds breed in the Arctic and fly south every year to winter
in Antarctica. That's an annual round trip of over 40,000 miles!! I filmed them off the coast of Greenland and slept on
an island where they were nesting. They lay a clutch of eggs directly on the ground, and daddy bird helps incubate.</span></span></span></span><br />
<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".r[3jx7n].[1][3][1]{comment10151881952208049_27943250}.[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3]"><span data-reactid=".r[3jx7n].[1][3][1]{comment10151881952208049_27943250}.[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3].[0]"><span data-reactid=".r[3jx7n].[1][3][1]{comment10151881952208049_27943250}.[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3].[0].[0]"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></span></span></span></span><br />
<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".r[3jx7n].[1][3][1]{comment10151881952208049_27943250}.[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3]"><span data-reactid=".r[3jx7n].[1][3][1]{comment10151881952208049_27943250}.[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3].[0]"><span data-reactid=".r[3jx7n].[1][3][1]{comment10151881952208049_27943250}.[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3].[0].[0]"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></span></span></span></span><br />
<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".r[3jx7n].[1][3][1]{comment10151881952208049_27943250}.[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3]"><span data-reactid=".r[3jx7n].[1][3][1]{comment10151881952208049_27943250}.[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3].[0]"><span data-reactid=".r[3jx7n].[1][3][1]{comment10151881952208049_27943250}.[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3].[0].[0]"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span id="goog_608111172"></span><span id="goog_608111173"></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUqr6qiHvGkPqCgufrgRy4BDoa7BZkXvqo8R6a2Q4jolKlGbwpUv19aJFFntFoejSJbRwLZ6c_SqRg3YClKKJpv7ZpTAlcx7pub44M934-mnUIfGR956qMSJL4soBQpDYSpb88jH6mzoU/s1600/albatross+004.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="422" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUqr6qiHvGkPqCgufrgRy4BDoa7BZkXvqo8R6a2Q4jolKlGbwpUv19aJFFntFoejSJbRwLZ6c_SqRg3YClKKJpv7ZpTAlcx7pub44M934-mnUIfGR956qMSJL4soBQpDYSpb88jH6mzoU/s640/albatross+004.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Albatross, EXALTED!! India ink and acrylic on tree-free paper. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".r[3jx7n].[1][3][1]{comment10151881952208049_27943250}.[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3]"><span data-reactid=".r[3jx7n].[1][3][1]{comment10151881952208049_27943250}.[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3].[0]"><span data-reactid=".r[3jx7n].[1][3][1]{comment10151881952208049_27943250}.[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3].[0].[0]">Albatross. At home on the Southern Ocean as far south as Antarctica, they've made headlines in recent years for turning up dead, en masse, their stomachs filled with the ubiquitous plastic waste that fills our seas. Nineteen </span></span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".r[3jx7n].[1][3][1]{comment10151881952208049_27943250}.[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3]"><span data-reactid=".r[3jx7n].[1][3][1]{comment10151881952208049_27943250}.[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3].[0]"><span data-reactid=".r[3jx7n].[1][3][1]{comment10151881952208049_27943250}.[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3].[0].[0]"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".r[3jx7n].[1][3][1]{comment10151881952208049_27943250}.[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3]"><span data-reactid=".r[3jx7n].[1][3][1]{comment10151881952208049_27943250}.[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3].[0]"><span data-reactid=".r[3jx7n].[1][3][1]{comment10151881952208049_27943250}.[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3].[0].[0]">of the 21 species of Albatross are endangered. </span></span></span></span>More inspired details: they can live for over 60 years, have the largest wingspan of any bird (up to 12 feet!) and can soar for hours - even days - without having to land. <a href="http://www.cbc.ca/news/technology/mom-again-at-62-world-s-oldest-wild-bird-hatches-new-chick-1.1320379" target="_blank">Good news</a>: A banded Laysan Albatross of Midway Island in the North Pacific became a mom again at age 62!!</span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".r[3jx7n].[1][3][1]{comment10151881952208049_27943250}.[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3]"><span data-reactid=".r[3jx7n].[1][3][1]{comment10151881952208049_27943250}.[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3].[0]"><span data-reactid=".r[3jx7n].[1][3][1]{comment10151881952208049_27943250}.[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3].[0].[0]"><br /></span></span></span></span>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4At6OOOMoEBKKCnqSoR4WiWAdYpXxZfYfyiEA3tzUXzllYt5Jm199msOpEo0eNkx-J17pZogzeDzWfCvF8_pBDPr91HU3vSLBZOeQ-UCV0U84azeRG6TgJz6aITaZ-5_JIFqkVB8dVqs/s1600/snow+bunting+002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="412" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4At6OOOMoEBKKCnqSoR4WiWAdYpXxZfYfyiEA3tzUXzllYt5Jm199msOpEo0eNkx-J17pZogzeDzWfCvF8_pBDPr91HU3vSLBZOeQ-UCV0U84azeRG6TgJz6aITaZ-5_JIFqkVB8dVqs/s640/snow+bunting+002.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Snow Bunting, India ink and acrylic on tree-free paper. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".r[3jx7n].[1][3][1]{comment10151881952208049_27943250}.[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3]"><span data-reactid=".r[3jx7n].[1][3][1]{comment10151881952208049_27943250}.[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3].[0]"><span data-reactid=".r[3jx7n].[1][3][1]{comment10151881952208049_27943250}.[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3].[0].[0]">Snow Bunting. Possibly the cutest of tiny Arctic songbirds, they are also known colloquially as "Snowflakes". (And of course a group of them is called a <i>drift.) </i>They brave a non-stop, 500 mile flight from mainland Europe to get to their high Arctic breeding grounds on the Svalbard archipelago. <a href="http://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/snow_bunting/sounds" target="_blank">Their voices</a> were some of the first I heard when I arrived in Greenland. </span></span></span></span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2XAy29eqBDmgRsjlc60ER4oy2j1af3RqpF_jaOhPbimPY74dVxJV85fn1vf7Xvx8wDar3FC61h86XTNJMhsO4w7sPXMA_EDHn83llb0j_sfjBxOauEu1c-R0V4xNFs01D9gDnWVzmwyU/s1600/raven+010.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="412" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2XAy29eqBDmgRsjlc60ER4oy2j1af3RqpF_jaOhPbimPY74dVxJV85fn1vf7Xvx8wDar3FC61h86XTNJMhsO4w7sPXMA_EDHn83llb0j_sfjBxOauEu1c-R0V4xNFs01D9gDnWVzmwyU/s640/raven+010.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Raven, Canyonlands National Park. India ink and acrylic on tree-free paper.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".r[3jx7n].[1][3][1]{comment10151881952208049_27943250}.[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3]"><span data-reactid=".r[3jx7n].[1][3][1]{comment10151881952208049_27943250}.[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3].[0]"><span data-reactid=".r[3jx7n].[1][3][1]{comment10151881952208049_27943250}.[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3].[0].[0]"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Raven. I didn't see ravens while in Greenland, although this is actually part of their range. Famously adaptable, intelligent and endearingly inquisitive! Their cries fill the still desert air here in winter. They can be aggressive, but I've also watched them nuzzling and grooming each other in the ragged sunshine of December. Iconic emblem of the Southwest, and perhaps the reason I'm now at work on a much larger commission featuring <i>corvus corax.</i></span></span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a class="mw-redirect" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Corvus_corax" title="Corvus corax"></a></span> <br />
<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".r[3jx7n].[1][3][1]{comment10151881952208049_27943250}.[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3]"><span data-reactid=".r[3jx7n].[1][3][1]{comment10151881952208049_27943250}.[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3].[0]"><span data-reactid=".r[3jx7n].[1][3][1]{comment10151881952208049_27943250}.[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3].[0].[0]"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".r[3jx7n].[1][3][1]{comment10151881952208049_27943250}.[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3]"><span data-reactid=".r[3jx7n].[1][3][1]{comment10151881952208049_27943250}.[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3].[0]"><span data-reactid=".r[3jx7n].[1][3][1]{comment10151881952208049_27943250}.[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3].[0].[0]">The
small miracle of flight: mesmerizing, poetic. How fragile we are, these
birds/we humans - and how resilient. The struggle to survive and thrive
is universal. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtxToA6ViMAPS8h5TlttCgZqZXK8a9L2qpkpGw8VzXCY0MhUWUQrZkhwxb5Yjut6ne2jJlHdWkBWiDdIt7JtdcFSl5ubViz96V0AOOL-4p_OCqjM0ulV5e0La8Q3tV9aVJjac8SgDRWGU/s1600/019.JPG" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtxToA6ViMAPS8h5TlttCgZqZXK8a9L2qpkpGw8VzXCY0MhUWUQrZkhwxb5Yjut6ne2jJlHdWkBWiDdIt7JtdcFSl5ubViz96V0AOOL-4p_OCqjM0ulV5e0La8Q3tV9aVJjac8SgDRWGU/s640/019.JPG" width="478" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Arctic Tern, India ink and acrylic on tree-free paper. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".r[3jx7n].[1][3][1]{comment10151881952208049_27943250}.[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3]"><span data-reactid=".r[3jx7n].[1][3][1]{comment10151881952208049_27943250}.[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3].[0]"><span data-reactid=".r[3jx7n].[1][3][1]{comment10151881952208049_27943250}.[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3].[0].[0]"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".r[3jx7n].[1][3][1]{comment10151881952208049_27943250}.[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3]"><span data-reactid=".r[3jx7n].[1][3][1]{comment10151881952208049_27943250}.[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3].[0]"><span data-reactid=".r[3jx7n].[1][3][1]{comment10151881952208049_27943250}.[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3].[0].[0]">"Descension. Ascension. The velocity of wings creates the whisper to awaken," writes Terry Tempest Williams<i>. </i>"Once upon a time, when women were birds, there was the simple understanding that to sing at dawn and to to sing at dusk was to heal the world through joy."</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".r[3jx7n].[1][3][1]{comment10151881952208049_27943250}.[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3]"><span data-reactid=".r[3jx7n].[1][3][1]{comment10151881952208049_27943250}.[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3].[0]"><span data-reactid=".r[3jx7n].[1][3][1]{comment10151881952208049_27943250}.[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3].[0].[0]"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".r[3jx7n].[1][3][1]{comment10151881952208049_27943250}.[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3]"><span data-reactid=".r[3jx7n].[1][3][1]{comment10151881952208049_27943250}.[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3].[0]"><span data-reactid=".r[3jx7n].[1][3][1]{comment10151881952208049_27943250}.[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3].[0].[0]"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span>
<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".r[3jx7n].[1][3][1]{comment10151881952208049_27943250}.[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3]"><span data-reactid=".r[3jx7n].[1][3][1]{comment10151881952208049_27943250}.[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3].[0]"><span data-reactid=".r[3jx7n].[1][3][1]{comment10151881952208049_27943250}.[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3].[0].[0]"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".r[3jx7n].[1][3][1]{comment10151881952208049_27943250}.[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3]"><span data-reactid=".r[3jx7n].[1][3][1]{comment10151881952208049_27943250}.[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3].[0]"><span data-reactid=".r[3jx7n].[1][3][1]{comment10151881952208049_27943250}.[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3].[0].[0]"><i>I am a woman with wings. </i></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".r[3jx7n].[1][3][1]{comment10151881952208049_27943250}.[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3]"><span data-reactid=".r[3jx7n].[1][3][1]{comment10151881952208049_27943250}.[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3].[0]"><span data-reactid=".r[3jx7n].[1][3][1]{comment10151881952208049_27943250}.[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3].[0].[0]"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".r[3jx7n].[1][3][1]{comment10151881952208049_27943250}.[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3]"><span data-reactid=".r[3jx7n].[1][3][1]{comment10151881952208049_27943250}.[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3].[0]"><span data-reactid=".r[3jx7n].[1][3][1]{comment10151881952208049_27943250}.[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3].[0].[0]"><i> </i> </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".r[3jx7n].[1][3][1]{comment10151881952208049_27943250}.[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3]"><span data-reactid=".r[3jx7n].[1][3][1]{comment10151881952208049_27943250}.[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3].[0]"><span data-reactid=".r[3jx7n].[1][3][1]{comment10151881952208049_27943250}.[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3].[0].[0]"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".r[3jx7n].[1][3][1]{comment10151881952208049_27943250}.[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3]"><span data-reactid=".r[3jx7n].[1][3][1]{comment10151881952208049_27943250}.[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3].[0]"><span data-reactid=".r[3jx7n].[1][3][1]{comment10151881952208049_27943250}.[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3].[0].[0]">All works by Rebecca Barfoot.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".r[3jx7n].[1][3][1]{comment10151881952208049_27943250}.[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3]"><span data-reactid=".r[3jx7n].[1][3][1]{comment10151881952208049_27943250}.[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3].[0]"><span data-reactid=".r[3jx7n].[1][3][1]{comment10151881952208049_27943250}.[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3].[0].[0]"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".r[3jx7n].[1][3][1]{comment10151881952208049_27943250}.[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3]"><span data-reactid=".r[3jx7n].[1][3][1]{comment10151881952208049_27943250}.[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3].[0]"><span data-reactid=".r[3jx7n].[1][3][1]{comment10151881952208049_27943250}.[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3].[0].[0]"><a href="http://www.rebeccabarfoot.com/">www.rebeccabarfoot.com</a> </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".r[3jx7n].[1][3][1]{comment10151881952208049_27943250}.[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3]"><span data-reactid=".r[3jx7n].[1][3][1]{comment10151881952208049_27943250}.[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3].[0]"><span data-reactid=".r[3jx7n].[1][3][1]{comment10151881952208049_27943250}.[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3].[0].[0]"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".r[3jx7n].[1][3][1]{comment10151881952208049_27943250}.[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3]"><span data-reactid=".r[3jx7n].[1][3][1]{comment10151881952208049_27943250}.[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3].[0]"><span data-reactid=".r[3jx7n].[1][3][1]{comment10151881952208049_27943250}.[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3].[0].[0]"><i><br /></i></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span>Rebecca Barfoothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00084787714415747688noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7296425706511972291.post-41770312816145535932013-11-01T18:07:00.001-07:002013-11-03T11:29:55.580-08:00Greenland: A Love Letter<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVwIJCDPANL9B6V3rRuYSrGPmGeczostaeAIZAiRZbSjhrzZiE1Bt9VRR5DrRF7UibJmRdcGyH8183BGjzs465I-btyp1nr4ZwMhB_YXITAl-ZyogJDCTpz2nx5GobpRTFbgd3JCbr5MY/s1600/Out+there+in+the+ice+fragments,+I+thought+I+saw+my+own+desire.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="386" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVwIJCDPANL9B6V3rRuYSrGPmGeczostaeAIZAiRZbSjhrzZiE1Bt9VRR5DrRF7UibJmRdcGyH8183BGjzs465I-btyp1nr4ZwMhB_YXITAl-ZyogJDCTpz2nx5GobpRTFbgd3JCbr5MY/s640/Out+there+in+the+ice+fragments,+I+thought+I+saw+my+own+desire.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Somewhere out there in the ice fragments, I thought I glimpsed my own desire..." acrylic, text transfer, india ink on canvas. </td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">My Greenland journey is far from over. Here are a few of the paintings I created in response to my travels in the Northwest of that great cold island. The Arctic lives in me now, and I can't stop thinking about it. My work continues. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9d6Lh5lCiCQJcnjTbeYjVDP3spXuvqCJHa4sDxbzjTSN-QvxPxjo1I-wEr3bqbqgD2ZjGtAyMXVSPVuwkqfFJVkfUjJQaqzuJZIimNRa_CSV8CJxtAcy2wPMPgBWloOLd2hQQcfGHebI/s1600/The+longspun+story+of+earth.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9d6Lh5lCiCQJcnjTbeYjVDP3spXuvqCJHa4sDxbzjTSN-QvxPxjo1I-wEr3bqbqgD2ZjGtAyMXVSPVuwkqfFJVkfUjJQaqzuJZIimNRa_CSV8CJxtAcy2wPMPgBWloOLd2hQQcfGHebI/s640/The+longspun+story+of+earth.JPG" width="418" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"The Longspun Story of Earth", acrylic, image transfer, india ink on canvas.</td></tr>
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"This story is partly about a kind of heartbreak for a world that remains so vitally unaware of how imperiled it is. The more I sense the miracle, the more intense appears the tragedy. The only way to feel better, then, is to appreciate less, which would of course feel worse. Let's put a positive spin on it and say that for now the miracle is winning." </div>
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- Carl Safina, <u>The View From Lazy Point</u></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdn2R6SZMYz1OXflEk5lQhIIdeMRSWmSZYUJah10FBpbGClhmhliHrnR1rVsdL0CS7lIq5UlKhf6LPmkXFrc32kLOgbatAJMNbuLWghkcGHdzXphSGktHwMdCbIHwPQ6asb4BAFxDMK-s/s1600/In+Greenland+I+found+the+bones+of+my+self.++Mixed+media+on+canvas..JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdn2R6SZMYz1OXflEk5lQhIIdeMRSWmSZYUJah10FBpbGClhmhliHrnR1rVsdL0CS7lIq5UlKhf6LPmkXFrc32kLOgbatAJMNbuLWghkcGHdzXphSGktHwMdCbIHwPQ6asb4BAFxDMK-s/s640/In+Greenland+I+found+the+bones+of+my+self.++Mixed+media+on+canvas..JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"In Greenland I found the bones of myself..." acrylic and india ink on canvas.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9d6Lh5lCiCQJcnjTbeYjVDP3spXuvqCJHa4sDxbzjTSN-QvxPxjo1I-wEr3bqbqgD2ZjGtAyMXVSPVuwkqfFJVkfUjJQaqzuJZIimNRa_CSV8CJxtAcy2wPMPgBWloOLd2hQQcfGHebI/s1600/The+longspun+story+of+earth.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"> </a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="464" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcgCDghrMms_Y5LaDqNJTVt3VpGfuoIvBhfUin7yBoJcDJrcILbUbEA4xwoSTNWKtCPHzxxjoGgNLVtstAcY9MUw9mC5ZoyCQyGSdlBtC_NfkeBp5QEZ-IZB_JM4qiursMqklvMcddJDM/s640/Iceberg+Corral,+Northwest+Greenalnd.++Mixed+media.+in+progress.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="640" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Melting Greenland/Ice Corral</span>", acrylic, text transfer, india ink on canvas.<br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> <span style="font-size: small;">~</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Also, "For Greenland. A Love Letter." </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">~ </span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTCcsvF0Mf9Bp0W4S4ZCOlUQVFMjlj8YKDKmJX5leX-iFQ1xWKv3k2cn9jOZ23OHWWRoBdn0EDoyq7eUe0x-az80YdM-6eP212Hm3Jab_cddVJCCx0c4CgdPQ_Opz1koyXEiD6TMy3Yx8/s1600/Little+red+house+at+the+end+of+the+world.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTCcsvF0Mf9Bp0W4S4ZCOlUQVFMjlj8YKDKmJX5leX-iFQ1xWKv3k2cn9jOZ23OHWWRoBdn0EDoyq7eUe0x-az80YdM-6eP212Hm3Jab_cddVJCCx0c4CgdPQ_Opz1koyXEiD6TMy3Yx8/s640/Little+red+house+at+the+end+of+the+world.JPG" width="419" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Little Red House at the End of the World", acrylic on canvas with india ink. </td></tr>
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Little red house... This painting is inspired by the historical 19th century building (an old Danish cooper's shop) that I lived and worked at in Upernavik, Greenland. It sits on a spit of land jutting into the sea, wracked by wind and time. Massive icebergs rise and fall to the rhythm of the tides - sometimes serene, sometimes violent - creating a different seascape with each new day. The light is spectacular. And it really does feel like being at the farthest edge of the world. ~<br />
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<br />Rebecca Barfoothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00084787714415747688noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7296425706511972291.post-68396575925881750912012-12-20T13:32:00.000-08:002012-12-20T13:41:12.739-08:00Arctic Art, Winter Light<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnnOn42z9bIW6OBr0mSq5d2WEYnW-A73IArCwK7q8kGPN-3UtFOLFe_gSaglFt-fYWVsZhwLxBx40NdnQHEK2cCEMGgz7loWATgz-WExwVPd0bIXlYEeSXjdvWR-TSh6poKrgoiPXNc7Q/s1600/021a.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnnOn42z9bIW6OBr0mSq5d2WEYnW-A73IArCwK7q8kGPN-3UtFOLFe_gSaglFt-fYWVsZhwLxBx40NdnQHEK2cCEMGgz7loWATgz-WExwVPd0bIXlYEeSXjdvWR-TSh6poKrgoiPXNc7Q/s640/021a.jpg" width="398" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">"Looking for the Ice", cyanotype print with mixed media. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Gray December days. We're closing in on the first day of
winter and the shortest day of the year - the very darkest of days in
Greenland. Would I see the Aurora if I was still there, spinning through
low slung stars overhead, the snow creaking with cold like old bones and
the patchy sea ice signaling danger?</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Thinking of the
Arctic and how, whatever our measure of darkness this time of year, we
are all waiting for the light. It unites us. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQqBFoehdu4BbVitMUe1KjbcUV6tnck8INqY1XEjoSduZgYQuB6_EFhP-5f2FR0ZcrVoPqoTD26yJK344Jf8Ie-EnTLLRgQTqUdniDFXXaJFTE82dpMD4LaxF3q00Bao4azwcZ7rWRevg/s1600/pine+river+wem+101112+%25282%2529.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQqBFoehdu4BbVitMUe1KjbcUV6tnck8INqY1XEjoSduZgYQuB6_EFhP-5f2FR0ZcrVoPqoTD26yJK344Jf8Ie-EnTLLRgQTqUdniDFXXaJFTE82dpMD4LaxF3q00Bao4azwcZ7rWRevg/s640/pine+river+wem+101112+%25282%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">"Galaxy - Part 2", cyanotype on paper. Like the winter night sky. Full of hope. </span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: small;"></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br />
<br />
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;"> <span style="font-size: large;">In the meantime, I'm working and making art as if my life depended on it. </span></span></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"> </span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCrci0h9YFlMhJZYGzByPutxEk3NoVy0N03-B2GogbMSri2HLsNZ-qfK4K7A1sQkiXpYpReQxgfH0im2ce9nzS04v1k14SQCH5wXossjr4EtWDEXNutGm7F7KqebL-weB777qD9AS1wJo/s1600/Greenland+003.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="390" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCrci0h9YFlMhJZYGzByPutxEk3NoVy0N03-B2GogbMSri2HLsNZ-qfK4K7A1sQkiXpYpReQxgfH0im2ce9nzS04v1k14SQCH5wXossjr4EtWDEXNutGm7F7KqebL-weB777qD9AS1wJo/s640/Greenland+003.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Luminous/Adrift, Baffin Bay. Acrylic on paper.</span>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjALzUKKGtwo0x7sDfahSYnw7MszxsfVMheouSVHlOy2mDbf6xJ73XuAO6o3IdjLDRK0IKuFh-eJdYcM_yFUWIaomqiaI-xVL0nyF5QnQkJVRIu8Ds1pJITAoPNAQSOBjvbi_hh3wKAk6E/s1600/kayak+skeleton+ship+1b.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjALzUKKGtwo0x7sDfahSYnw7MszxsfVMheouSVHlOy2mDbf6xJ73XuAO6o3IdjLDRK0IKuFh-eJdYcM_yFUWIaomqiaI-xVL0nyF5QnQkJVRIu8Ds1pJITAoPNAQSOBjvbi_hh3wKAk6E/s640/kayak+skeleton+ship+1b.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Bones of Greenland, porcelain paperclay.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;">One of my favorite projects right now is the series of
porcelain
skeleton ships I've been sculpting. They'll be installed in a gallery
from the ceiling, resting on... nothing. Kayaks inspired by my own powerful Arctic water
voyage but also by dying seas and rising tides and temperatures - hanging in delicate balance just as we are.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div>
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYjVeYpaw-KXlpefUbC-REQ8bSWJ0_ToXVRBv2g4aZOoqXKdPrqUVBZPkFgq4gCF5dkIxDwXzwOQyRvQ_tIAnhrL9gEQrAjKIxlhBk0Adzi9KsLeg0meztWOqKQYwdqvGK5kwspoJ7xLs/s1600/002.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYjVeYpaw-KXlpefUbC-REQ8bSWJ0_ToXVRBv2g4aZOoqXKdPrqUVBZPkFgq4gCF5dkIxDwXzwOQyRvQ_tIAnhrL9gEQrAjKIxlhBk0Adzi9KsLeg0meztWOqKQYwdqvGK5kwspoJ7xLs/s640/002.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Semi-frozen porcelain paperclay with ice crystals. An uncanny resemblance to an icescape. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-gcK-rTW-CVQjcqWD_OfVIuLZi1mUUgvBQ0JS46YcNklGBm4fh9weqZ2gBBiiIINIK9BobKmhr5IQB_mr_AT91uZ71pEs4A39-CqiZz55EpDh6tq_yGqOwU6-jn1B957_MhN6goIrNfI/s1600/003.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="414" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-gcK-rTW-CVQjcqWD_OfVIuLZi1mUUgvBQ0JS46YcNklGBm4fh9weqZ2gBBiiIINIK9BobKmhr5IQB_mr_AT91uZ71pEs4A39-CqiZz55EpDh6tq_yGqOwU6-jn1B957_MhN6goIrNfI/s640/003.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr align="left"><td class="tr-caption"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;">"Ice Fishing: Catch and Release", original cyanotype print on paper. </span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-right: auto; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container"><tbody>
<tr align="left"><td class="tr-caption"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody>
</table>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: large;">In recent weeks I've mailed off a few dozen original cyanotype prints to my Kickstarter
supporters (all the fans that helped get me to Greenland!) and been delighted by the rave reviews. How do I say thank you?? It means so much
to have someone jot me a message that exclaims, "I love the piece you
sent. I can't wait to frame it!" All the uncharted, undeclared hours of
toiling alone in the studio suddenly seem worth it. After all.</span><br />
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I'm also spending countless hours video editing right now, peering over the edge of the Arctic expedition and allowing myself to tumble down into its depths. Feeling and
remembering. Slicing and dicing the clips to
create something someone else would want to become absorbed in. Hoping
I can do it justice. I have moments of thinking, "Well, there's no
adrenaline here. Only the slow subtle drama of the Ice. Some humor and thought provoking dialogue. A lot of
beauty shot with a mediocre camera. I'm not a film maker." Or am I? </span></div>
<div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk-7IkjnF-MZJs61DQtqHacAUzP3WgWpnbjXKojsMMo3rQzodB7z9JAKqcY_dzVuTsd7mGFSw-xgzHFQ3pXiU0JtY_pz9NmlIpdhGhzx6kq6gvUZnKlOpWDLE6AtUPqxjvYvHxn3nBHRk/s1600/Greenland%252C+Kayaking+083+71012.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk-7IkjnF-MZJs61DQtqHacAUzP3WgWpnbjXKojsMMo3rQzodB7z9JAKqcY_dzVuTsd7mGFSw-xgzHFQ3pXiU0JtY_pz9NmlIpdhGhzx6kq6gvUZnKlOpWDLE6AtUPqxjvYvHxn3nBHRk/s640/Greenland%252C+Kayaking+083+71012.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;">It must be enough. I understand that this intimate and quiet work about the Arctic is
bringing me closer to that which is bigger and bolder. I'm lining up
shows for all of it, along with speaking venues about the Arctic, art
and global warming. I've been invited to present at <a href="http://www.uwc-usa.org/conference" target="_blank">Regenerate</a>,
a conference in New Mexico about the ways that art can fuel progressive
change. I feel as if I to have pockets full of answers - and instead I
have fistfuls of questions. </span></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Today
is December 20th. Soon I'll begin teaching a semester at <a href="http://www.nmschoolforthearts.org/" target="_blank">New Mexico School for the Arts</a> in Santa Fe. In addition to engendering creativity
in young hearts and minds, I long to be a light in the darkness.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"> </span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTsvJ3At3bB8ixOBE5Jd6XvzLZ_1TmKy_mNBMUSpA6ra5PNSzfWVMcJifGSvojYY6heKWTuMVBf41Hc0f0jMcPbjUAO8gJjiHyIGP_nxzsdx8wVa1E8t5N5ZiJFRSGq9sItyNfmvkl3Yc/s1600/006.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="566" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTsvJ3At3bB8ixOBE5Jd6XvzLZ_1TmKy_mNBMUSpA6ra5PNSzfWVMcJifGSvojYY6heKWTuMVBf41Hc0f0jMcPbjUAO8gJjiHyIGP_nxzsdx8wVa1E8t5N5ZiJFRSGq9sItyNfmvkl3Yc/s640/006.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;">A
gathering of Solstice gifts. And a return to my roots with some
recently fired functional porcelain - the color of glaciers and December
dawn. ~Love and light to all. </span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container"><tbody>
<tr align="left"><td class="tr-caption"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>Rebecca Barfoothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00084787714415747688noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7296425706511972291.post-62400083081247287402012-10-30T11:21:00.000-07:002012-10-31T10:08:42.443-07:00A Forest and the Bones of Greenland<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEOltHi1LlC2Zc4EJfO0F473ICiwFI-kFKaH0VncWVDFxs7mo4NzvUhYwED-0u03eVxAcUGORtxnBG3rFZgHmQC_okIiJMLrzqV_BgBOpbPFIBSXl0dA5hEQOQTG4tgT7lhOUUHLNv1ag/s1600/pine+river+wem+bday+ct.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="396" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEOltHi1LlC2Zc4EJfO0F473ICiwFI-kFKaH0VncWVDFxs7mo4NzvUhYwED-0u03eVxAcUGORtxnBG3rFZgHmQC_okIiJMLrzqV_BgBOpbPFIBSXl0dA5hEQOQTG4tgT7lhOUUHLNv1ag/s640/pine+river+wem+bday+ct.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Galaxy", cyanotype print with usnea, wild rose, river pebbles by Rebecca Barfoot</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif";"> Life is precious, especially against the
unforgiving starkness of the Arctic.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My
time in Northwest Greenland heightened my awareness of how quietly fleeting
our time is here on this little blue globe called home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As a result, I’m working a bit feverishly
these days, trying to get all my art projects born before time runs out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know this is foolish and fearful, but still
I’m creating in a hyper-inspired (manic?) state, extra-attentive and
energized.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">It’s a fertile place, this focused frenzy- but
again, as ephemeral as our waking hours and numbered earthbound days. </span><br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyE2h8u2b2Y4yjFyyLU6bCx5HxpUSBEUVb92sq1bcctFCEGnALzZ6Iadpszz0w2qqMUm988x5xGpYXmFZRaj8DgZcWvkczXDFiPAfBAbpHxoZCo7tsYSScbAZk0t0OB2BiEFxna3Vqz2E/s1600/004.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyE2h8u2b2Y4yjFyyLU6bCx5HxpUSBEUVb92sq1bcctFCEGnALzZ6Iadpszz0w2qqMUm988x5xGpYXmFZRaj8DgZcWvkczXDFiPAfBAbpHxoZCo7tsYSScbAZk0t0OB2BiEFxna3Vqz2E/s640/004.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Smuggled Arctic seal bones adorn- incongruously- a bed of autumn leaves</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif";">I woke at dawn today with these words
whispering through the mental haze of early morning: <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“In Greenland, I found the bones
of my self.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></i></b>One part dream, one
part highly conscious thought? I suspect a higher sense of knowing before the
din of the daily begins, and I’m grateful for the mysterious tiding.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Since
Greenland, I have felt the stirring of something old and moss covered inside
me, m<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>oving and morphing yet deeply grounded.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">I can’t say with precision what happened for
me internally in the icescape of the Arctic- but something did happen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As if the cold sharpness of bedrock and
glacier ripped me open like a storm running down the middle of my life, then tossed
me back to sea to find my own way back to shore and sanity. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLlZJmSvODQ0TnifHFKhOhecBT0aQLt17z-TTJlpypdV-ornQWyvtgZ035fAtgjGx2pwCl-7A5V4AOzMF2CHhmkEIl9IY7pVRkeEuD71ZaTdZ0HoPn12S47bOkpFrHaCnnCkZTESfz4qE/s1600/Greenland,+Kayaking+078+71012.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLlZJmSvODQ0TnifHFKhOhecBT0aQLt17z-TTJlpypdV-ornQWyvtgZ035fAtgjGx2pwCl-7A5V4AOzMF2CHhmkEIl9IY7pVRkeEuD71ZaTdZ0HoPn12S47bOkpFrHaCnnCkZTESfz4qE/s640/Greenland,+Kayaking+078+71012.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Glacier meets bedrock, NW Greenland</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif";"> Back home I’ve taken refuge in the forest, an
impossibility in northern Greenland as the high Arctic is a land without
cover. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Refuge and revelry then!</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The season here in Colorado has matured to a crisp
golden autumn.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve loved watching the
world change as the aspen and cottonwoods gather themselves up for winter,
shedding their leaves, drawing into themselves. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I understand. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLl0WFxHdPXYBtjsgztI5gaxTAk5hZqQS9bFoGNqoNRSUrX-eanXiJdHdpt4pPufQboUj5BpQNoZ0l8s_vDadMGh4yAQKL5tLur81VOsfljgoiQfGMqzm-8uuhxBPfsF9w6FAFlfQo83E/s1600/051.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLl0WFxHdPXYBtjsgztI5gaxTAk5hZqQS9bFoGNqoNRSUrX-eanXiJdHdpt4pPufQboUj5BpQNoZ0l8s_vDadMGh4yAQKL5tLur81VOsfljgoiQfGMqzm-8uuhxBPfsF9w6FAFlfQo83E/s640/051.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Aspens in full glory at a secret spot in southwest CO</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"> I’ve seen a bumper sticker floating around
Durango lately that reads, “Trees are the answer.” Ah, the poetry of
trees.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How they hold up the sky and
root us all at once.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I watch the
Halloween skeleton trees outside the studio, shifting and sighing in the late
fall wind. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yet how steady and steadfast
they are- my own personal icons of small triumph. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Beyond the poetic is the scientific:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>trees give us oxygen, clean our air, filter
the soil, and manage to transform greenhouse gases into wood.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No wonder I’m smitten. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">I won’t ask you if you’ve ever hugged a tree,
but when was the last time you laid down beneath a canopy of, say, an enormous live oak- to be cradled by the forest floor, branches and leaves twining above
and the open sky beyond? (<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Now’s your
time!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Autumn is perfect!)</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The pungent dirt-smell of moist leaves
returning to the earth delivers me to a mysterious yet familiar place of yearning. </span><br />
<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A winter live oak thrives in west Texas</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Dirt, moss, bones- and those words carved
into my mind from this morning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Greenland
is littered with the skeletons of marine mammals that became Inuit food, and
also from the natural course of things. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nothing breaks down- or hides- with any ease
this far north. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bones are so rich in
metaphor that they’ve already found their way into my art.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A year ago in the Adirondacks I began working
on a series of coil-built skeletal objects in porcelain, beginning as a group
of Lilliputian chairs (to be hung on the wall, a slightly twisted testament to comfort
that can never be attained). Then I made some small boats, in the same manner
and material.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A little bereft, these unmoored
ships that can’t bear their own weight on water, slowly sinking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Elegant and terrible as unprecedented Arctic
ice melt.</span><br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhyphenhyphenLZpkAdbp_7idCDEp27_1C7B3qb0pzo6zj_o34JTziskUyrKmBbSm6U0Vv4FhS2fbVa1FBfO_B4SY6eS-v-CfU6KJALn6I-z3YsP6-OBFoDBcEv13X0RPJs0dLaWp4TUSgsSs_Q9qMA/s1600/Skeleton+Ship.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="355" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhyphenhyphenLZpkAdbp_7idCDEp27_1C7B3qb0pzo6zj_o34JTziskUyrKmBbSm6U0Vv4FhS2fbVa1FBfO_B4SY6eS-v-CfU6KJALn6I-z3YsP6-OBFoDBcEv13X0RPJs0dLaWp4TUSgsSs_Q9qMA/s640/Skeleton+Ship.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Skeleton Ship", porcelain paperclay by Rebecca Barfoot</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif";"> </span><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">I’m building diminutive ceramic kayaks today,
reminiscent of my time threading the waters of Baffin Bay this summer in just
such a craft (which didn’t sink and never capsized!).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I found piles of seal and narwhal bones on <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Ikerinarmiut</i>, a tiny island off the
Greenland coast.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And ancient human
remains nestled in an old rock cairn with a circular skyward opening, not far
from my studio in Upernavik. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(Gasp!!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’d never stumbled upon a human cranium just…
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">lying</i> there like that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But this was the traditional Greenlandic way
until only recent decades.) </span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjThyphenhyphenyTIIpZBGQuf-GKud0gM5xHEq26CtwP3w-rBMmb6TbVjx4pv75SxIUksb6zJW4Zc-TB8KCaHlmVDapHC7u0lyaKKn3BSMiDey9r1ZRKFqh_bgKGKi6h_n_kZEJaMdrsfjP0dvM0d5Y/s1600/tumblr_lxhu9pTBTm1qm0ij5o1_500.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="636" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjThyphenhyphenyTIIpZBGQuf-GKud0gM5xHEq26CtwP3w-rBMmb6TbVjx4pv75SxIUksb6zJW4Zc-TB8KCaHlmVDapHC7u0lyaKKn3BSMiDey9r1ZRKFqh_bgKGKi6h_n_kZEJaMdrsfjP0dvM0d5Y/s640/tumblr_lxhu9pTBTm1qm0ij5o1_500.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Untitled, by the young, gifted, and tragically fated Francesca Woodman, MacDowell Colony, Peterbough, NH, 1980 </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"> For some reason I haven’t quite unearthed yet,
I’m more in love with fall this year than I have been since my childhood in New
Hampshire.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was a maker of tree forts then,
running around the woods looking for pokeberries and toads, excavating piles of
crimson maple leaves to hide<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe the bones of the Arctic are bringing me
back full circle to fall in love with a forgotten part of myself, at once old
and young and giddy with living. </span>Rebecca Barfoothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00084787714415747688noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7296425706511972291.post-47717504675541082042012-09-09T11:25:00.000-07:002012-09-09T11:26:58.117-07:00Homecoming<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGw_WXW59ALI2gM3MYPKOBXnkkZY_IHvE3r-xae0lEaHz8V0zUsfkcodJBn2fJAx5lAQFur50ECh9aWqZqpi6XMLnvARdsQEBu_ju8UhdnzZZf9SND_xg4O_X6Uqns2Fm34h8XVCUblmQ/s1600/0731011538.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGw_WXW59ALI2gM3MYPKOBXnkkZY_IHvE3r-xae0lEaHz8V0zUsfkcodJBn2fJAx5lAQFur50ECh9aWqZqpi6XMLnvARdsQEBu_ju8UhdnzZZf9SND_xg4O_X6Uqns2Fm34h8XVCUblmQ/s640/0731011538.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Summer splendor, San Juan mountains, Colorado</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<i><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif";">August 8.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>My first morning back in the US.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> COLORADO!! </span>I wake at daybreak- courtesy of jetlag- to the lavish splendor of this
temperate latitude, in awe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The tangle
of oak and elder outside the bedroom window and the delicious fragrance of
greenery after rain is puzzling at first, a little shocking to my senses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve become too accustomed to Greenland’s stark
horizon of rock and ice, and the pungence of rank seal blubber and sea.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A hummingbird hovers outside my screened
window, vibrant amidst vining purple clematis. Like dormant lichen gathering moisture after drought, I soak it up. I'm so content. </span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif";"><br /></span></i>
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif";">I left the
Arctic in a dual state of inspiration and overwhelm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Here at home, I continue to be overwhelmed
by the abundance that exists on so many levels: the lushness of the mountain
landscape, the ubiquitous excess of food and amenities, the prevalence of
conversation, chatter and gratuitous human interaction.<br /> </span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimDtBU7tQEJNMzlJpljx-Al6GMU1aSfX9_FGEQ9kTMlUzA0zIj3pY0WtVtBCxsQjvT_NlwGXGbvJyGTyNSedEYBP5_Wu9lUTskxUdetEXsmgMFMULMRzSQ2ROJI1vKrx3ZLYYwD3ittho/s1600/april+golondrinas+2012+010.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimDtBU7tQEJNMzlJpljx-Al6GMU1aSfX9_FGEQ9kTMlUzA0zIj3pY0WtVtBCxsQjvT_NlwGXGbvJyGTyNSedEYBP5_Wu9lUTskxUdetEXsmgMFMULMRzSQ2ROJI1vKrx3ZLYYwD3ittho/s640/april+golondrinas+2012+010.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dusk becoming darkness at my wintering site in remote northern New Mexico.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">And ohhh… the NIGHT. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I stepped off the airplane onto the tarmac
late last evening, smiling into the velvety darkness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Shrouded by a blanket of stars overhead, I’d
forgotten how the night calms me, enveloping and protecting me like the warm
embrace of an old friend. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ahh, darkness-
after 40 days of light.</span></i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWn6Obk4i8vnGimOusqjl79qAlOWYPt1ARU6305JZvqgEG63k1I2CIxEfz1ic8YBaMZvvrA_6P40K1L6lv6B22e1b6HT21fnI9F8sQnv2IoilgHv9jJbP7Jzjo8InZvn5o7kXz-lKDqw0/s1600/027.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWn6Obk4i8vnGimOusqjl79qAlOWYPt1ARU6305JZvqgEG63k1I2CIxEfz1ic8YBaMZvvrA_6P40K1L6lv6B22e1b6HT21fnI9F8sQnv2IoilgHv9jJbP7Jzjo8InZvn5o7kXz-lKDqw0/s400/027.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Young friends show me the way, La Plata River Canyon.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif";"> I feel like
a toddler, regarding the world with a child’s sense of wonder and innate curiosity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m enthralled by all the succulent details
of the everyday, losing myself in the minutiae of a flower petal or a swirl of
subtle color on wet asphalt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sometimes
it takes lack and loss to find one’s way again. </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCAa7wpzFmO60WFrhhtt05b7WlTh4vsXhHrztbQzDHvQpH9U78jTk7Q0aYhf0QJkjZgFtQWBbkWXFVw0swCmaYFppFLNYKdg0X4tZm21y5xla-aDUewi8bgQH92ggmorgHQvBSYT0VaVw/s1600/0616011240.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCAa7wpzFmO60WFrhhtt05b7WlTh4vsXhHrztbQzDHvQpH9U78jTk7Q0aYhf0QJkjZgFtQWBbkWXFVw0swCmaYFppFLNYKdg0X4tZm21y5xla-aDUewi8bgQH92ggmorgHQvBSYT0VaVw/s640/0616011240.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Claret Cup cactus blooms in Colorado</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">August 9. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I walked into the grocery store today and had
a meltdown.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></i><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">(You mean I can have whatever I want?? But
there are so many choices!)<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> Avocados,
eggplant, tofu, chick peas, and tamari-roasted almonds.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Pears and spinach, fig cookies and
peaches.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Corn tortillas, coconut,
arugula, jicama.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m skinny since
Greenland.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can’t possibly buy or eat
all this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I consume visually, with my
eyes, my hands pausing over tidy mounds of plums from California, grape
tomatoes from Mexico.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></i>Squeeze<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To
have so much- is this bounty or gluttony?</i></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">I am giddy
with the effortlessness of communication, and from being in a place where people
know and care for me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s not just the
commonality of a shared language, it’s also the sub-culture of
familiarity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Both friends and strangers
regard one another, often, with a fluency and ease that I find heartening.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can talk to people here. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can connect.</span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmbJ7HAG-agH6z8qazno9xhyphenhyphenbrR-_-6ApanU8TQieOf1RG0FJcySY1s2IWgfz_A-yYETOs6MREjmAk2SjO_OcvlSDFPNoB0WoxmyTjiUimCJnnZhOWavg_8IxzubxPTbdhij4VBIUd0X4/s1600/Greenland,+Kayaking+110+71212.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmbJ7HAG-agH6z8qazno9xhyphenhyphenbrR-_-6ApanU8TQieOf1RG0FJcySY1s2IWgfz_A-yYETOs6MREjmAk2SjO_OcvlSDFPNoB0WoxmyTjiUimCJnnZhOWavg_8IxzubxPTbdhij4VBIUd0X4/s400/Greenland,+Kayaking+110+71212.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kayaking, self-portrait</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">It’s hard to describe the sense of quiet
exuberance that possesses me at the moment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I understand that it's the result of accumulated longing amassed beneath
and beyond my Arctic travels, magnified under the pressure of ten months away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Something in me releases now, and I breathe a
long exhale after waiting, enduring, thrashing over countless obstacles.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fulfillment after yearning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Relief</i>. </span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">My time in Greenland, though in many ways a
refuge, was as austere as the rock and ice that surrounded me there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Returning to a landscape of green and a
profusion of growing things echoes the renewed bounty of my internal landscape. </span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgllQ8LuStXSqWVZf8i0VY_7ASkscyHOxna4lWP_1pq2sPnZ9-6QzZ9qZPbGcJscOyG1JUDROHSJcBhVixCaQ9h4wfYWLTBt0t9-Pod0jTW6sa3-UEmD82PniNkLIzA2cI1EeWwBjBovL0/s1600/049.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="459" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgllQ8LuStXSqWVZf8i0VY_7ASkscyHOxna4lWP_1pq2sPnZ9-6QzZ9qZPbGcJscOyG1JUDROHSJcBhVixCaQ9h4wfYWLTBt0t9-Pod0jTW6sa3-UEmD82PniNkLIzA2cI1EeWwBjBovL0/s640/049.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Apache Plume, cyanotype photogram</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCAa7wpzFmO60WFrhhtt05b7WlTh4vsXhHrztbQzDHvQpH9U78jTk7Q0aYhf0QJkjZgFtQWBbkWXFVw0swCmaYFppFLNYKdg0X4tZm21y5xla-aDUewi8bgQH92ggmorgHQvBSYT0VaVw/s1600/0616011240.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">The downside- if there is one- is that I’ve returned
after many months of quiet introspection to the insistent din of contemporary
life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All the solo time spent in the
studio- and<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"> </b>trawling the backwaters
of my mind- will make wending my way back to a busier world more daunting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wonder if I’ve unlearned the skills
required to join the ranks of muliti-taskers armed with iPhones, earbuds, and
daily planners brimming with urgency.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But this is just fear shadowing me like a cloud pausing overhead.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve never really been a part of that
lifestyle and my unfitness for it is likely more a gift than I will ever know. </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdC-4ai__9-7UqFCSh2Fi_lDu5Y8V8ZFxaGrx-XURhoB9TpSxwrcjjlT9UlrNlYOqjm-xG6YMQskS5MkJLq4vp8DbSsyTa-98r1IkeNhRaK-VDwECHR-o46YdMMI_eAkT54-SCtXa4FMM/s1600/026.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Postscript- August 31.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve been back three weeks now and my sense
of wonder and delight in the world remains.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Eventually the bustle will claim me again, but for now everything still
sparkles, as light-filled and luminous as the ice of a northern glacier.</span></i><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHqOBBWvAsB8urCIwGOaB3cjsmix-yup-pga0yXkX2tixhsFhe4sf3BIIMIz1Utzc3Uv2C3bhyhbjg0MRHDtVkwGeezQBUBuoMq6fN-7teMmQllag6UkyRDNYk7bLtMG1d2jv1sIrz-ps/s1600/Greenland,+Kayaking+109+71212.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHqOBBWvAsB8urCIwGOaB3cjsmix-yup-pga0yXkX2tixhsFhe4sf3BIIMIz1Utzc3Uv2C3bhyhbjg0MRHDtVkwGeezQBUBuoMq6fN-7teMmQllag6UkyRDNYk7bLtMG1d2jv1sIrz-ps/s640/Greenland,+Kayaking+109+71212.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Icebergs near Melville Bay, NW Greenland</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
Rebecca Barfoothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00084787714415747688noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7296425706511972291.post-35453347220902541162012-08-27T14:51:00.000-07:002012-08-27T14:53:02.382-07:00Arctic Farewell<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6aka_DNCTMUekwcdNtjDbdCMWLIjtWPwUsAJrpEuRLTksVp_0KzBTb1DioHD0vVnFMEW2kFRWpKMrKFHFSEB9hKhgyH9XS5SzRdGG-ghUoWSG27kcqBtW3unur5sYNHvum6f7T8kf68k/s1600/Greenland,+Kayaking+064+7912.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6aka_DNCTMUekwcdNtjDbdCMWLIjtWPwUsAJrpEuRLTksVp_0KzBTb1DioHD0vVnFMEW2kFRWpKMrKFHFSEB9hKhgyH9XS5SzRdGG-ghUoWSG27kcqBtW3unur5sYNHvum6f7T8kf68k/s640/Greenland,+Kayaking+064+7912.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
August 3, 2012. Baffin Bay is stormier lately and I can tell
that fall is coming at this latitude.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The air is cooler, there are fewer bright sunny days, and the sun dips a
little lower on the horizon each evening. Nights will be returning to this part
of the Arctic soon, darkness finally engulfing the world after months of
constant daylight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
It feels like a time of hunkering down or moving on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For me, it’s time for the latter. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
I’ve been in Greenland for only a matter of weeks, in a
timeless place with no end or beginning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I’ve stood on the brink of something eternal here, and I’m sure I will
spend the next several months trying to unravel the mystery of it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">How,
what, why.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></i>Seeking order out of
chaos, answers instead of questions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNbJRMOo54IYfue5CuFQpp2fmZaMX3sWJs5C7yXjIlw9_uZYxdsY34m6NgQNcA7esEXju_AFeBshvsZ09aE3bsnp8SLCSi75AKn3DuRzamqsJxP2PQ8WHTTX_JYgEV7m10f5qqdpPnGYs/s1600/015.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div>
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</div>
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</div>
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</div>
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In the final days of my residency at the Upernavik Museum,
I’ve been so encumbered by the maelstrom of my own mind- from the trivia of the
mundane to the vast overhwhelm of the monumental-<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>that I don’t know what I feel about leaving.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Happy? Sad? Relieved? </div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<i>All the above- and exhausted. </i></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNbJRMOo54IYfue5CuFQpp2fmZaMX3sWJs5C7yXjIlw9_uZYxdsY34m6NgQNcA7esEXju_AFeBshvsZ09aE3bsnp8SLCSi75AKn3DuRzamqsJxP2PQ8WHTTX_JYgEV7m10f5qqdpPnGYs/s1600/015.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNbJRMOo54IYfue5CuFQpp2fmZaMX3sWJs5C7yXjIlw9_uZYxdsY34m6NgQNcA7esEXju_AFeBshvsZ09aE3bsnp8SLCSi75AKn3DuRzamqsJxP2PQ8WHTTX_JYgEV7m10f5qqdpPnGYs/s640/015.JPG" width="640" /></a><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"> </span></i></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;">I do
know that I will miss this little red house terribly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have loved the quiet here and the time to
contemplate new ideas (and old ones <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">ad
nauseum</i>).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I gave up my own rental in
Colorado last fall when I left on my long year of artistic sojourning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It makes leaving this place of refuge so
much harder. </span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;">Still, I’m
eager to find my way back to the Rockies and the remains of summer there, to
say hello to old friends and reacquaint myself with my mountain bike and the
solace that deep forest and high ridge trail riding brings me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
I’m
incredibly excited about all the artistic possibilities I have to explore as a
result of my time in the Arctic.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With
time and space in the US over the fall and long winter ahead, I will preside
over a studio burgeoning with the chaos of multiple creative projects being
born at once. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBwsUlYHDUDZvk2ADk285dAtTi-Ptc1SuJ8uKEGE6pXqxJqdF7Te-aZv9TDLfwpTgBljzZzoHOToGsBUFuSSZ7SW-FbIfgSmpA_mhn4rDyXcjLBwG3wC4M-IHWO0h-Ynjp-W__LCX9-Jc/s1600/Greenland,+Kayaking+031+7612.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBwsUlYHDUDZvk2ADk285dAtTi-Ptc1SuJ8uKEGE6pXqxJqdF7Te-aZv9TDLfwpTgBljzZzoHOToGsBUFuSSZ7SW-FbIfgSmpA_mhn4rDyXcjLBwG3wC4M-IHWO0h-Ynjp-W__LCX9-Jc/s640/Greenland,+Kayaking+031+7612.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
What struck me
most about Greenland is its mystery and ineffability- a landscape of rock and
ice I can scarcely put words to.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And all
the beauty and tragedy of an ancient culture experiencing the growing pains of intense
transition. </div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
What will strike
me most about the US is the noise and frantic clutter of life- the same aspects
that I so easily leave behind every time I travel, and that greet me with such
savage bluntness upon each return.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
ease of communication will also be immediately apparent- a common language and familiar
customs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have to be careful not to
lose my curiosity and keen sense engagement.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m afraid of drowning in the
comfort and convenience of it all.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
***</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
I leave Upernavik on Sunday with a backpack full of notes and paintings, my memory adorned with indelible, indescribable
impressions that, like the slow rise and fall of the sea itself, speak of
forever.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The journey is over- <i>or is it just beginning?</i></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<i> </i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwzUeF4DAr5dpu0ie3hknfl_MjyLNmHG1h7qkiLfJamax1hEaX9MuaKxTPJWtezlkakJiB_I3Fh1c3T1niBbChinNYf0IQnPkGaMD77X_u5IXITTWMlRnQRIfpf0bObM1QTaKMajruYQ4/s1600/Greenland,+Kayaking+076+71012.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwzUeF4DAr5dpu0ie3hknfl_MjyLNmHG1h7qkiLfJamax1hEaX9MuaKxTPJWtezlkakJiB_I3Fh1c3T1niBbChinNYf0IQnPkGaMD77X_u5IXITTWMlRnQRIfpf0bObM1QTaKMajruYQ4/s640/Greenland,+Kayaking+076+71012.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
Rebecca Barfoothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00084787714415747688noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7296425706511972291.post-1495658962050213912012-08-15T17:30:00.000-07:002012-08-15T17:31:37.981-07:00Exquisite Isolation<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTurPrkzzrYcs_mzd_-nmCpelUzw8jOhoOBFbJSFMkajHxKjPjJuYlW8JsZ2xOns1fnJfzNdzs2ifaLxRfRwC29ACU0cD_pBqDJ3HAmWN5LqDq1w8qS_gxtSbCivVHd4cr3rYys13GGEU/s1600/Greenland+016+%282%29.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTurPrkzzrYcs_mzd_-nmCpelUzw8jOhoOBFbJSFMkajHxKjPjJuYlW8JsZ2xOns1fnJfzNdzs2ifaLxRfRwC29ACU0cD_pBqDJ3HAmWN5LqDq1w8qS_gxtSbCivVHd4cr3rYys13GGEU/s640/Greenland+016+%282%29.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">The artist's retreat </span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: small;">I’m a few
weeks into one of the most exquisitely isolated experiences of my life. I live on an island off the northwest
coast of Greenland in a small seaside cabin high above the Arctic Circle. It feels like the edge of the world. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">I am a guest
of the Upernavik Museum, and my purpose here is art, research and
discovery. I spend my days exploring the
small settlement of Upernavik, painting seascapes, writing, and filming. I’m thinking about melting glaciers,
retreating sea ice, and the warming of our delicate planet.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">I have
fallen in love with the silent stillness of this place, an understated
landscape of bare essentials: rock and ice, sea and sky. </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">And while I
have forged a deep connection with the wildness of Greenland, I sometimes crave
human relationship. Upernavik is home to
a few hundred inhabitants, largely Greenlandic-speaking Inuit. We share no
language. It’s hard to meet people here
and even harder to converse. I long to
communicate my experience of the Arctic hinterlands, to ask questions and understand
more about where I am by sharing
something with the people who live here. I am mute, silenced.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">In
isolation, my thoughts turn repeatedly toward home and the people I’ve
left behind. There are few options for high tech communication here- my phone doesn’t work in Greenland and I spend
too much energy trying to figure out how to access the internet. Occasionally
I’m allowed to use the computer at the museum for a short time- for a fee and only if they are open and someone is in the office.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Today I’ve
been frustrated. Tears welled up in my
eyes and blurred my vision as I was turned away from the museum for the 6<sup>th</sup> day in a
row. <i>Can't use the internet today</i>. Access denied, like typing the wrong password into my online bank login and the screen blinking shut on me- except that I am dealing with real people, not security codes. I am confused, a fact again attributable
to lack of common language. I went to
the only other place in town that might help me, a kiosk that sells chips, Coke, and occasional online access. The Danish owner asked- in the blunt, efficient
manner of a true northern European- why I had no phone for internet, ending the
conversation abruptly when I asked about paying for wireless. “It’s not possible,” he shouted at me as I
retreated out the door. </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">I am ashamed
to admit it, but I miss the world wide web. I can’t decide if it’s a blessing or a blight,
this high speed techno-tool that allows me connect across time zones and
disparate ideologies with anyone and everyone. I’m grateful that on most days I’m immersed in
my work and the beautiful mystery of this place- and know better than to crave
technology while in the rugged isolation of the Arctic. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7wNYQigfyBfQfuHHq_Ub2V_gVO7pqof97aLBUoLtKTKhepP8G4zUT7TJ9aIxjbz54enk5bPCJr-69wbLYnFMogz-Dx0pB4cNuRQ2jDXDuR2HPTdpnFYq-IBxYbLhWgtJQUlhYBfeBlXo/s1600/Greenland+013.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Local color- in the background, a fashionable young mother pushes a baby stroller</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">. </span></span>
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<span style="font-size: small;">I can tell
that family relationships in Greenland settlements are at the heart of life
here, far more so than in the US.
Extended families of multiple generations often live together and homes
are small and full. I consider my own
family, many of its ties broken and all of us scattered. (My mother in New Hampshire just turned 75
while I was on the kayak expedition! I tried to call her on her birthday from
the guide’s satellite phone, no luck.) Back
in the US I visit both parents maybe once a year, and briefly. Divorced, they live on opposite ends of the
country. Being in Upernavik- where I am
so distinctly an outsider and most often alone- makes me yearn for family engagement and the unconditional support that a
family can sometimes provide. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Most
exciting in the realm of correspondence are the hand written letters I’ve
received from home. Snail mail- in
Greenland no less!- makes me melt. I save and savor the unopened envelopes, my eyes
following the script of the address, the postmark, to find clues to its
mysterious passage to me from the Rockies, the Pacific, or New England. I do this for a day or two before devouring
the words like much longed for sustenance. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLXkPH261HC17c3RWKXLiiXTjlLYaHhxBq1gF9D_G0_8hfu9jx2PblwB46daqxHSrCYz8N_SCMyw7zMyDPFZ3j2eNGRUECy3JkoTJA_nSDuG38mYQ9O7FnEIema6zhRPn5SVGYA12DNQM/s1600/004.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="460" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLXkPH261HC17c3RWKXLiiXTjlLYaHhxBq1gF9D_G0_8hfu9jx2PblwB46daqxHSrCYz8N_SCMyw7zMyDPFZ3j2eNGRUECy3JkoTJA_nSDuG38mYQ9O7FnEIema6zhRPn5SVGYA12DNQM/s640/004.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Letters and the forever-clutter of my desk. </span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: small;">POSTSCRIPT,
August 6</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">I've left the retreat behind and am
en route to the US. I'm continuing to write offline at the Kangerlussuaq airport and have many hours ahead
til I board my night flight to Copenhagen. "Kanger" has the bustling feel of much larger airport because it’s the
main connector from Europe to Greenland. Since I left Upernavik yesterday morning (only yesterday?) I’ve been
experiencing culture shock. I’ve emerged
from the deep isolation of a remote northern community,
overwhelmed. I hear English being spoken (and Danish, German) and sit now amidst a cacophony of other tourists and travelers. I visited a supermarket yesterday in Ilulissat that was… well, it was (to my provincial mind<i>) HUGE</i><i>! </i>And sold things like cantaloupe, goji
berries (?!) and pistachio nuts. Ilulissat was bustling with young Greenlandic hipsters
decked out in the latest European fashions, smoking, wearing iPods. I stayed in a hostel with a flush
toilet. As I’ve journeyed south, I've reemerged in the postmodern world. When
I rolled into Kanger this afternoon, I headed to the International Science
Support building and was invited to binge on free internet time. <br /></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">But back to
the theme of isolation that defined my life in
Upernavik less than 24 hours ago. Already it seems so far away, already I miss the stillness and quiet
that comes with so few distractions. I
know that whatever we have, we seem to crave the converse. It's our nature. What I won’t
miss is being so utterly disconnected from the people that I love. Like an umbilical cord that keeps me safely
tethered to the known world, these relationships allow me the luxury
and freedom to journey in the unknown world to stand at the remotest edge of
myself.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7wNYQigfyBfQfuHHq_Ub2V_gVO7pqof97aLBUoLtKTKhepP8G4zUT7TJ9aIxjbz54enk5bPCJr-69wbLYnFMogz-Dx0pB4cNuRQ2jDXDuR2HPTdpnFYq-IBxYbLhWgtJQUlhYBfeBlXo/s1600/Greenland+013.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="464" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7wNYQigfyBfQfuHHq_Ub2V_gVO7pqof97aLBUoLtKTKhepP8G4zUT7TJ9aIxjbz54enk5bPCJr-69wbLYnFMogz-Dx0pB4cNuRQ2jDXDuR2HPTdpnFYq-IBxYbLhWgtJQUlhYBfeBlXo/s640/Greenland+013.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Fog rises over the islands of Upernavik Fjord</span></span></td></tr>
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Rebecca Barfoothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00084787714415747688noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7296425706511972291.post-23405425038989957552012-08-09T15:07:00.000-07:002012-08-09T15:08:00.773-07:00Art in the Arctic<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS14kfhdnnxGRclmLrnSHO7oZcVX6SvGwpXpRtOY7ERmDWC2sNYzO6lxwA4D_wfw2TtTtJyo-qVpveCB0y_fZOj7FtVWFfeEUi8oQchHGkEFr-BJtoz2_Qf68O2dg14zWitOOrD6lvEGk/s1600/003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgIr3B-TroVYCsNxagvJD9ZCY-FMRulrOjA55Mrnj66bGDiwjuUTM2PNRt7_QLhzPF07BAzN2DJsxr0jpp8XhBNfGJSMjiOHBU_4gnUCCpxTGNQrdOJPC151CKT3a5lItHPriqCa01iG4/s640/Greenland+001.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="402" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A small red house at the edge of the world. Acrylic sketch on paper</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif";"> It’s almost
time to leave this little red house on Baffin Bay and head back to my other
life in Colorado.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m watching the sea
rise and fall in slow crests outside the studio, the endless cycling of waves
and tide on a grey day, quiet and still.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I’m restless.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I wonder what
I’ve accomplished here. </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">I’ve written
in this blog about people and place, kayaking and climate change- but little
about my artwork at the artist’s residency.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>That’s because much of my daily duty (to myself, my project, and the
museum) is focused on various forms of documentation- and paying close attention.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s a little less of a studio residency and
a little more of a soaking up of land, culture, and environment- which will in
turn feed a prodigious amount of creative work back in the US.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif";"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">I’ve tried
to greet this truly exceptional opportunity with the blank slate of an
inquisitive mind, and not too many preconceived ideas about artistic
outcomes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve hoped that the experience
of being in the beautiful, beleaguered Arctic would teach me what to make,
which vocabulary to use.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i>If I just listen hard enough.</i> I want the Arctic to give me the words- the form- I need to describe all this, rather than being too sure
of myself from the start. <i>Tell me what to do.</i></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5i148suinboHcP1VWMUCjQmTgjUqHghE-pRzMFlUx1ul_8O_aNgpuWXGpDXc23mCXAA-sSUTbwmGT1Ligo65bWbuI4lxt1F_cqd9D7CeKpOLuDlDoG-1miHpz_dMr0wVr41wG4vKOlaY/s1600/Greenland+003.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="384" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5i148suinboHcP1VWMUCjQmTgjUqHghE-pRzMFlUx1ul_8O_aNgpuWXGpDXc23mCXAA-sSUTbwmGT1Ligo65bWbuI4lxt1F_cqd9D7CeKpOLuDlDoG-1miHpz_dMr0wVr41wG4vKOlaY/s640/Greenland+003.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> Acrylic sketch on paper. </td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif";"> So far this
approach isn’t letting me down.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Today I worked on photographing and video recording along with creating a series of
cyanotype prints (since the sun was out- a prerequisite for this type of image making).
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some of the photos will be used for
reference material as I paint, and others will be rendered later in negative
format for cyanotype printing. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The rest
is my own visual archive of what really happened on the Arctic Art Expedition. </span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">I’ve been
painting every day- small works on paper in acrylic, an economy of scale
and materials. (Remember the one bag/20 kilo weight limit on Air Greenland?
This had significant influence on what I could drag with me on 6 flights across
3 continents!)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t usually paint
landscapes. I’m not much good at it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But
here I've been sketching studies of the ice, thinking of more involved
compositions while I push paint around and try to create a likeness which, of
course, will never do this place justice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It’s fun to try, and to fall into the beautiful curves and color of the
icebergs. I remember paddling out at sea, close enough to the bergs to feel their raw power. Ancient frozen water, a still life. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLRO9f8CWNd3PL68ojLB2tPMg8nnegbbCbXNC_nG0dRo5cFBRx3eeaUkl4I99byBmWQm9xx8AgYrMjwyCTQWGY83Mm9-4iuti51RD-T4rmX8hKFtBME-lHhPJ_-yMKsCcIa4Dpp1RSMsM/s1600/Greenland+008.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="380" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLRO9f8CWNd3PL68ojLB2tPMg8nnegbbCbXNC_nG0dRo5cFBRx3eeaUkl4I99byBmWQm9xx8AgYrMjwyCTQWGY83Mm9-4iuti51RD-T4rmX8hKFtBME-lHhPJ_-yMKsCcIa4Dpp1RSMsM/s640/Greenland+008.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Icebergs near Melville Bay. Acrylic sketch on paper.</td></tr>
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<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">While I work
I imagine a slew of larger projects which are at the heart of my Last Places
ideas, all the things I can’t wait to get my hands into back in the US.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I want to work on big canvases, and I want to
work in oil.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This fall and winter I’ll
develop these more complex paintings, along with (and rather ambitiously?), a
whole new body of porcelain sculpture.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m
writing and taking reams of notes about my current ideas and inspiration for the
clay pieces. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The awesome part is that
my ideas develop exponentially when they’re given time to distill and something
essential is allowed to surface.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS14kfhdnnxGRclmLrnSHO7oZcVX6SvGwpXpRtOY7ERmDWC2sNYzO6lxwA4D_wfw2TtTtJyo-qVpveCB0y_fZOj7FtVWFfeEUi8oQchHGkEFr-BJtoz2_Qf68O2dg14zWitOOrD6lvEGk/s1600/003.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS14kfhdnnxGRclmLrnSHO7oZcVX6SvGwpXpRtOY7ERmDWC2sNYzO6lxwA4D_wfw2TtTtJyo-qVpveCB0y_fZOj7FtVWFfeEUi8oQchHGkEFr-BJtoz2_Qf68O2dg14zWitOOrD6lvEGk/s640/003.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Upernavik retreat guest book</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif";">Then there’s
the film editing and video project that is also part of this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> Uh.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>(I’ve begun to think my new motto must be <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">go big or go home</i>…?)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But
time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The months to come will be saturated with the
bright light of this work, as if I took an iceberg home in my pocket and put it in
the freezer to peek at from time to time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s all with me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It won’t go away and I can’t forget it. </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi4n0PIC1gWglYdq-T7cTmt0t9LoddVS5kydt0848Zb_w_BonoqEfwDkREY1Pq4RDHqCKZnZ5fT0GiNnmGkNdSaTKhD5qi0rrcHHYRCOYs72DbBFbqOBtsBLFctvCqerroZqz2m_jD1eA/s1600/Greenland+015.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi4n0PIC1gWglYdq-T7cTmt0t9LoddVS5kydt0848Zb_w_BonoqEfwDkREY1Pq4RDHqCKZnZ5fT0GiNnmGkNdSaTKhD5qi0rrcHHYRCOYs72DbBFbqOBtsBLFctvCqerroZqz2m_jD1eA/s640/Greenland+015.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Close-up of ice structure</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Time +
creativity = art.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In theory,
anyway.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The missing part of this
equation is that art and life are inextricably linked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My thoughts about trash burning and mercury,
eating seal (or not) and navigating a kayak through a sea of towering sapphire
ice sculpture- all this ultimately carries me back to my work.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The seeds of creation are forever born of the
most sacred and mundane of things. </span><br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg19lKvn1VeVm39hiA0jdNOjCfwqAgrKFl3hojmY_8NSOqB4BH94aHlRB_0obP6-OK8qLq-PsomCrRNoLRvGPO1BFWi3k_u1slfZXKd7hEjdncwQK0I-IsQkcirB05um23hp6U-2R00jE/s1600/Greenland+003.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="390" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg19lKvn1VeVm39hiA0jdNOjCfwqAgrKFl3hojmY_8NSOqB4BH94aHlRB_0obP6-OK8qLq-PsomCrRNoLRvGPO1BFWi3k_u1slfZXKd7hEjdncwQK0I-IsQkcirB05um23hp6U-2R00jE/s640/Greenland+003.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Acrylic sketch on paper.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>Rebecca Barfoothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00084787714415747688noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7296425706511972291.post-26978980746692055802012-08-03T09:02:00.000-07:002012-08-09T11:22:34.112-07:00A Vegan in Greenland<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5JZDADDyhtmWVfe52bkj3f1XFIOnmpNIuhTkrr7Mkowvw2BUquCAKTh5s8Vz8Py3Q65kOgNRkVt9ShnnO1wxXErlos84e-xqkCxSgQwHsCgfAlIIap7ZhiX-mZ9ENiEB_63XjMh763xA/s1600/Greenland+010.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="500" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5JZDADDyhtmWVfe52bkj3f1XFIOnmpNIuhTkrr7Mkowvw2BUquCAKTh5s8Vz8Py3Q65kOgNRkVt9ShnnO1wxXErlos84e-xqkCxSgQwHsCgfAlIIap7ZhiX-mZ9ENiEB_63XjMh763xA/s640/Greenland+010.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Polar bear is traditional Greenlandic food. A skin hangs on the side of a home in Upernavik town.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="font-family: inherit;">
Before I
came to Greenland, many people asked me what I would eat there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Like its Arctic counterparts in Canada,
Siberia, and Alaska, Greenland is a land of meat and food from the sea.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Since I’ve completely abstained from eating
animal products for more than two decades, it’s something I’d also given some
thought to.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’d either starve, find a
supermarket- or begin eating meat again.
</div>
<div style="font-family: inherit;">
<span style="mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: inherit; margin: 0in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Either way, I
wasn’t panicked about it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve been
doggedly committed to my project all along- and to traveling to Upernavik
regardless of the food situation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I knew
I would be adapting to my circumstances in a variety of ways.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: inherit; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: inherit; margin: 0in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>But subsistence hunting has faded here in
Upernavik.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Indeed, it seems to me that
the old ways have all but disappeared from this small Arctic town, as the sea
ice retreats and European influence increases.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>There’s currently fewer fish and mammals in the sea to be taken, and
changing weather patterns affect hunting and availability of prey.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: inherit; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: inherit; margin: 0in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">What this
means for me is that small markets exist in most of the settlements here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There’s not much to choose from as a hardcore
vegan, but I’m surviving. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m shy of
protein and dropping weight, but I am getting by.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: inherit; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: inherit; margin: 0in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">What do I
come home with from a typical store run?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Usually a can of garbanzo beans or navy beans, a small loaf of heavy rye
bread (which I developed a taste for during my time in Denmark), maybe some
cabbage or a banana if a ship has come in recently with supplies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe some jam, sweet pickles or pickled
beets.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4MkK1Nfpgaqbiv5JVGNZsFNXpbQCvbhTCRV_mcTHtpBEFanJrP5X_TsC4ibvy-beNCjbCId0wVE-jrjm-bb64qjc2Ds6JMJTsnbUmZJbf_xhnMYvxRqjkEYVgVLWkaMcZ3cujrPpkIHQ/s1600/017.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4MkK1Nfpgaqbiv5JVGNZsFNXpbQCvbhTCRV_mcTHtpBEFanJrP5X_TsC4ibvy-beNCjbCId0wVE-jrjm-bb64qjc2Ds6JMJTsnbUmZJbf_xhnMYvxRqjkEYVgVLWkaMcZ3cujrPpkIHQ/s640/017.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Surely if I eat enough German bread I will look like the girl in the photo...?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: inherit; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
It’s pricey
here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Understandably so.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The dollar is weak, and everything is
imported from Denmark. I easily spend 20 bucks- about 500 Danish crowns- on
what amounts to rations.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But who’s
complaining? I’m in a supermarket in Greenland!!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can have chips and Coke if I want!!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div style="font-family: inherit; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: inherit; margin: 0in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">There’s
plenty of cookies, soda, and candy available, too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And meat!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>If I want to cook up some seal or whale, its available frozen and shrink
wrapped along with more ordinary selections of fish, canned liver pate, sausage
– and chicken.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Chicken? In Greenland?) </i></span></div>
<div style="font-family: inherit; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: inherit; margin: 0in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">When I came
here, I promised myself to be open- to eat fish if I felt like it (along with
whatever else served itself up to me), or if I just needed a good dose of
quality protein.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It absolutely makes
sense to eat fresh food from the sea and tundra here, consuming what the land
provides and contributing to the local economy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But honestly, after so many years as a non-meat eater, I have no taste
for it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Although I was (almost) ready to
change my non-meat ways for the duration of this trip, I was granted a
reprieve!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpvoMpdXgJN3lCf8ZHaK6F4JtdsAd4dEGUk_ewryM31-vGpw807WM-2D_iB2L9ZGf4i9Dp4hsLm3BRLc222cq0ZrRJ9Jdfkf-0OeM1_ENu-ZBXnc8TCPmiqKhjg6B2dBY4vJd_KlKbGSA/s1600/Greenland+016.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpvoMpdXgJN3lCf8ZHaK6F4JtdsAd4dEGUk_ewryM31-vGpw807WM-2D_iB2L9ZGf4i9Dp4hsLm3BRLc222cq0ZrRJ9Jdfkf-0OeM1_ENu-ZBXnc8TCPmiqKhjg6B2dBY4vJd_KlKbGSA/s640/Greenland+016.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There are numerous edible mushrooms in Greenland- but these look like trouble.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif";"></span></div>
<div style="font-family: inherit; margin: 0in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">I also admit
I arrived in Greenland with about 15 pounds of food from home. I brought mung
means, which I love sprouted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve been
rationing them all month. I’ve also got some almonds and flax seed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some fresh greens I’d dehydrated myself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some dates.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Some quinoa. A little of this and that, but certainly not enough to get
me by for 40 days.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And believe me I’d
have carried more with if I’d had the luggage capacity!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(Air Greenland allows only one 20 kilo bag.)</span></div>
<div style="font-family: inherit; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: inherit; margin: 0in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">So the short
story is, I’m still vegan. I won’t be very strong on my mountain bike when I
get back to Durango, I don’t feel awesome physically, but I’m getting
through.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I do dream of food at night,
and have food cravings during the day- tofu, avocados, hemp protein, fresh corn
tortillas with beans and salsa, fruit smoothies and fresh greens, tomatoes and
melons.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLObhEf6zxCxJOplMfKPpGEf73vJPSub44Y-LJ5cJW3YC5lb-aXdLZOR7I51WVTMsX-YV_kc6IM77aVv_pk85_sngAVa8yuuWRB_QaD_BNxgIyzs9ER3jJZbPG-z0ynmgI1Ewc8GGq6qE/s1600/Greenland,+Kayaking+115+71312.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLObhEf6zxCxJOplMfKPpGEf73vJPSub44Y-LJ5cJW3YC5lb-aXdLZOR7I51WVTMsX-YV_kc6IM77aVv_pk85_sngAVa8yuuWRB_QaD_BNxgIyzs9ER3jJZbPG-z0ynmgI1Ewc8GGq6qE/s640/Greenland,+Kayaking+115+71312.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A reindeer antler on a remote northern island returns to the earth. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="font-family: inherit;">
<span style="mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">And I do
wonder if I should’ve just subsisted on local food these weeks, to be true to
the culture and the experience.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But the
fact is, I don’t know what to do with a fish– or a narwhal or an auk or a
reindeer- and I don’t want to eat one. </span>
</div>
<div style="font-family: inherit; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: inherit; margin: 0in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">The
postscript to today’s blog is that I have been invited by the family of a new
friend to dinner tonight - for seal stew.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I will leave you wondering how I decide to navigate the evening. I
may<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>surprise myself.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>Rebecca Barfoothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00084787714415747688noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7296425706511972291.post-22588769584615390502012-08-01T07:48:00.000-07:002012-08-03T09:06:35.323-07:00Notes from a Greenland Evening<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIb4-PeXXXrYBltuImZ0s-kJdh1HtgLpG-IzLbNDdEhbFkEW-8hQImDZ_8KNwzxnPtaEI8pOwjLogkhKDckJF-45BTHIWNDD_VL2msoqztOw8_kA0ac75OGrwKTq8G4xrZS1uZ1r2GJNY/s1600/Greenland+006.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
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<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnqtBtSDEagbKV1-NWr9lMWtrgNj3NWcn4K-GLjXlEIl6TuMvvrrkFDo-u87OuuNM0dfjCaNGk2_7P-vcJXlkPJYGcklYkULPXoDSP_JDSvbPtVLW683nHgbl3P8e6nurQDiIac2xXks0/s640/blog+8+%283%29.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="480" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view from here...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<i>“July
25, 11pm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The glare of the late night
sun reflects off the water, bouncing into the studio through the glass windows and rebounding
off the white walls, dazzling. Shouldn’t have to squint like this inside, so
far north.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Today was mild and the fog
lifted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>People were out painting their
houses, kids playing everywhere, loud laughter following me into the house like
the light from outside. </i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I’d
want to be outside too, day and night, not sleeping all summer, if I knew the
sun would leave in the fall and not roll around again til February. I’d like to
spend a winter in the Arctic (to torture myself?!) I could see the Northern
Lights then.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I really want to go to
Svalbard!! It’d be cheaper and easier to get to than here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just about anywhere would be.</i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Now
that my days are numbered here in Greenland, I feel more grounded, less untethered.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When the time felt limitless, there was less
urgency to hone in and get things done.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>My focus is sharp now. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m on
task. This always happens to me- artist’s residencies see me foundering some in
the beginning when there’s so much to take in, so much to adjust to. I’ve come
to realize this is normal.</i></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<i>Art
projects are going well, I’m in heaven with the time I now have to CREATE.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve been slacking on filming these last few
days, painting more.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I lost some video
clips that I’d filmed- a rare set of interviews! It was a camcorder glitch, and
I was so mad at myself that I had to put it all away for a few days.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Writing all the time too, constantly
scratching notes, scribbling things here and there. Obsessive. I don’t think I
have a future as a landscape painter, but I’m enjoying the acrylic and oil sketches
I’ve been doing every afternoon and evening, mostly of the ice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Honestly, I’m just in love with pushing the
paint around and losing myself in the brush strokes. It doesn’t always matter
what I’m painting.</i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIb4-PeXXXrYBltuImZ0s-kJdh1HtgLpG-IzLbNDdEhbFkEW-8hQImDZ_8KNwzxnPtaEI8pOwjLogkhKDckJF-45BTHIWNDD_VL2msoqztOw8_kA0ac75OGrwKTq8G4xrZS1uZ1r2GJNY/s1600/Greenland+006.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIb4-PeXXXrYBltuImZ0s-kJdh1HtgLpG-IzLbNDdEhbFkEW-8hQImDZ_8KNwzxnPtaEI8pOwjLogkhKDckJF-45BTHIWNDD_VL2msoqztOw8_kA0ac75OGrwKTq8G4xrZS1uZ1r2GJNY/s1600/Greenland+006.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIb4-PeXXXrYBltuImZ0s-kJdh1HtgLpG-IzLbNDdEhbFkEW-8hQImDZ_8KNwzxnPtaEI8pOwjLogkhKDckJF-45BTHIWNDD_VL2msoqztOw8_kA0ac75OGrwKTq8G4xrZS1uZ1r2GJNY/s400/Greenland+006.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">working on small painting studies from a photos on my laptop</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I
went up to the airport today to see if I could change my flight. I’m not
scheduled to leave until August 5, but technically the residency is over on the
first.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Another artist arrives then. But
no go.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’d hoped to get back to Kangerlussuaq
and spend time at the International Science Support building, talking to
scientists about their weird projects- things like Arctic caterpillars,
microbes, and the probability of life on Mars.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I spent the night there on my way in last month.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There’s some fascinating things going on at that place.</i></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE1ZV7APeVtuKmbG40j4xk9rFZeVnTY4hK3l_Yz6eQpfy6J34pslcW9_zpyKK4onMpwXgyErvGM-FWuyuep4Lct5E1yiQf4QkUhyphenhyphenE_bcIJU3O88Z2K5BzL9dyNJY3vkJYZROfNtZPN80s/s1600/blog+8.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE1ZV7APeVtuKmbG40j4xk9rFZeVnTY4hK3l_Yz6eQpfy6J34pslcW9_zpyKK4onMpwXgyErvGM-FWuyuep4Lct5E1yiQf4QkUhyphenhyphenE_bcIJU3O88Z2K5BzL9dyNJY3vkJYZROfNtZPN80s/s640/blog+8.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kangerlussuaq International Science Support building. Non-descript outside, full of intrigue inside.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">But
it’s not to be.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t know yet what
I’ll do. I hope serendipity intervenes again, same as with the kayak
expedition. I may have blown my good standing with that magic this time around.
Time will tell!!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I spend too much of my
time worrying, removing myself from the present moment so I miss it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yuck!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Anxiety may be a natural response to contemporary life, but it’s also a
great way to miss the joy of being alive.</i></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Someday
I’ll be gone from here and I’ll miss watching the icebergs from my desk and
bedroom window, miss listening to the waves lapping the shore as I fall to
sleep. </i></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I
really do keep dreaming of home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So many
people from my past have shown up to entertain me at night!!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know it’s because I have felt lonely up
here at times, not part of this world, just a tourist who can’t speak the
language.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s been really hard.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My heart aches for the people I miss, and for
those I know I have lost for good.</i></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Sometimes
I wish I could be like “normal” people, have a steady job, not try to save the
world, not be so different. Just go to work, get a paycheck, come home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just HAVING a house to come home to, now that
would be something! <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know myself too
well though.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’d never be satisfied with
that.</i></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I
took a long hike today up the east side of the island, around the cliffy north
end, and back the west side.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I love it
for it’s beauty, and the pure solitude that puts me at ease.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can feel the spaciousness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The blue of the distance, the glint of the
ice, the deep beds of moss that measure their growth in millimeters from year
to year- these things seem so steadfast, calming the restlessness I carry with
me and silencing my fears. Some days I’m overtaken by the indescribable beauty
of this place. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And just by being alive.”</i></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
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<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<i> </i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkorLnyT96TJl-hfETjaryrjmjPfLQm8MuJSk3_Ly2R8L0A2zvcisxQrrp6HgVvPesis7s3doCUGXdiY6X__ZQK2xqKdvonCpmdMhO_k8mmVakGyNU11BwyzbLgT7OeGXGt3NFy_NIPGE/s1600/blog+8+%284%29.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkorLnyT96TJl-hfETjaryrjmjPfLQm8MuJSk3_Ly2R8L0A2zvcisxQrrp6HgVvPesis7s3doCUGXdiY6X__ZQK2xqKdvonCpmdMhO_k8mmVakGyNU11BwyzbLgT7OeGXGt3NFy_NIPGE/s640/blog+8+%284%29.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
There’s something about a creative
residency that is one part heaven, one part hell. Read <a href="http://www.womensmediacenter.com/feature/entry/life-in-lady-writer-heaven"><b><i>Life in Lady Writer Heaven</i></b></a> by Courtney Martin for more on the topic. She's writer in residence at Hedgebrook Farm on Whidbey Island, WA, and she describes so well the joy and struggle of unmitigated
creative time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I felt instant kinship
when I read her words, and if you are another creative, so will you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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Rebecca Barfoothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00084787714415747688noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7296425706511972291.post-91689810154798904992012-07-27T10:35:00.000-07:002012-08-01T06:49:52.048-07:00Arctic Paradox<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDkdG-cGOrnJvpYuneTjw2D_ExVFYMPDzdwGrjkqddueNg1t9E6bu_A3zbu18owdKl92qDJ8osh38Icu_OZTgyfWtpuzkUwXvH8CD-tiRqVKC4HO-KuXx3XNs7dKe-MGys0FbZJpP1Y2Y/s1600/EP-707229871.jpg&maxw=650&maxh=550.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDkdG-cGOrnJvpYuneTjw2D_ExVFYMPDzdwGrjkqddueNg1t9E6bu_A3zbu18owdKl92qDJ8osh38Icu_OZTgyfWtpuzkUwXvH8CD-tiRqVKC4HO-KuXx3XNs7dKe-MGys0FbZJpP1Y2Y/s640/EP-707229871.jpg&maxw=650&maxh=550.jpg" width="578" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Smoke from a recent fire in Durango near Animas Air Park. Photo Durango Herald</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"> When I left Durango in June, the world was on fire- literally.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> About
350 homes had burned in Colorado Spring's Waldo Canyon fire, and nearly
as many in the High Park fire near Fort Collins. More areas were in
flames close to home,
forcing evacuations. As I boarded my
flight to Denver, I watched the spiraling eddy of smoke rising from a new blaze
near Lightner Creek. </span><br />
<br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Here in northwest Greenland, I’m bearing witness to a different kind of
extreme. The unprecedented warming of
the Arctic is connected to the increase of the </span>“disaster weather” we’re
experiencing all over the country- and indeed the world. <span style="font-size: 11.5pt;">According to a recent NASA press release</span><a href="http://www.nasa.gov/topics/earth/features/greenland-melt.html" target="_blank"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; color: windowtext; font-size: 11.5pt; padding: 0in; text-decoration: none;"></span></a><span style="font-size: 11.5pt;">, about half of Greenland's
surface ice sheet naturally melts during an average summer. But data from July 8-12<sup>th</sup> from
three independent satellites, analyzed by NASA and university scientists,
showed that in less than a week the amount of thawed ice sheet surface
skyrocketed from 40 percent to 97 percent.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxJ3Jt0Q_sMH6zUJDnhsQPZTSrASq9ZfkPA090PmDrG0dN1SLwDR9Fykb0pJPMGLjw74oGg9qLVtyIkGq5ePy3LGlAaLzvR6_79EiG2UgS9D93Jv0R-Rmi_NNBNbUDMihm1z0NvZHhJ4U/s1600/blog+7+%284%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxJ3Jt0Q_sMH6zUJDnhsQPZTSrASq9ZfkPA090PmDrG0dN1SLwDR9Fykb0pJPMGLjw74oGg9qLVtyIkGq5ePy3LGlAaLzvR6_79EiG2UgS9D93Jv0R-Rmi_NNBNbUDMihm1z0NvZHhJ4U/s640/blog+7+%284%29.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Things exist in Greenland on a massive scale. Here, inland glacier ice makes its way to the sea.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="line-height: 15.75pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: 11.5pt;">I
happened to be kayaking in northwest</span><span style="font-size: 11pt;">
Greenland near Melville Bay on those days - and it was, according to my guide
and my own internal thermostat, unnaturally warm. This was during the same time that a large
chunk of the Petermann Glacier calved and launched itself into the sea. “Twice the size of Manhattan,” I hear. </span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">There’s a lot
at stake right now as we burn increasing amounts of fossil fuels and the planet
heats up exponentially. A few days ago, I received a link to a recent article
in Rolling Stone magazine by the 350.org founder Bill McKibben- </span><a href="http://www.rollingstone.com/politics/news/global-warmings-terrifying-new-math-20120719">"Global
Warming's Terrrifying New Math: Three simple numbers that add up to
global catastrophe- and make clear who the real enemy is."</a><i> </i><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I devoured it in one sitting, hungry
for news that matters and a perspective that pulls no punches. But don’t read it unless you’re prepared for
an ultimate reality check. </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK5A1AcZyTm3dFhVuav3-YOfdPWpzpAC5oh2W334AC_0E8MxKbRjKfaU41RsUVXYhYQLV0PLdph589InoiRZmmml-a-KYZb3RGiRgrdT6kPykB9pakf27fl1RG5KaRXp4j1ApvWIjm7Fs/s1600/blog+7.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK5A1AcZyTm3dFhVuav3-YOfdPWpzpAC5oh2W334AC_0E8MxKbRjKfaU41RsUVXYhYQLV0PLdph589InoiRZmmml-a-KYZb3RGiRgrdT6kPykB9pakf27fl1RG5KaRXp4j1ApvWIjm7Fs/s640/blog+7.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Small icebergs drift on the north side of Upernavik island</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Here in the sublime beauty of Upernavik, all the trash from town gets
burned. When I buy a plastic container
of peanut butter at the Pilersuisok market, it’s destined – once empty - for the
garbage pile behind my house where it will be incinerated along with everyone
else's household waste- soda bottles, batteries, old appliances, everything. I understand that the heavy metals, benzene and dioxins from burning plastic will drift
back to me in the air I breathe and that as I fill my lungs, the toxins will settle
into the tissues of my body, accumulating.
Instant cause and effect. A tidy transformation
of matter into poison. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">There is a similar destination for human waste here. Whatever I leave in the heavy duty plastic
bag that fits beneath the toilet fixture will end up in the sea. The plastic will be burned. Hundreds of
yellow bags are incinerated every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, just yards from where I now sit writing.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">I mention this not to single out Greenland (we all know the US is one
of the heavyweights on the planetary pollution hit list) but to share how
directly responsible I am for my own contaminated environment. So, do I buy peanut butter or not? <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Choices.
Cause and effect.</i> It may seem
like the tiniest thing, but millions of seemingly inconsequential decisions
made daily by the planet’s growing population of consumers is something to be
reckoned with.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Is it my job to not buy the peanut butter? Is it industry’s job to find
alternatives to plastic, or is it the municipality’s job to find a different way
of dealing with trash?</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">I think about the fracking and gas wells that number in the thousands at home in La Plata
county, Colorado, where the earth is injected with a proprietary blend of over
200 chemicals. The industry bears, as
yet, no responsibility to clean up their act.
They are exempt from standard clean water regulations, so they can keep
polluting. Much of the natural gas produced from
hydraulic fracturing is used to make disposable plastics such as my peanut
butter container from Pilersuisok. </span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">When I was sea kayaking earlier this month, I was thrilled to be in
such a breathtakingly remote place (what I might, in my own personal parlance,
call a last place). Most days I saw
garbage, particularly plastic, either floating in the sea or washed up on shore
where I camped. It’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">everywhere</i>. We are awash in the detritus of our
contemporary throw-away society. </span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">More sobering are the numbers about PCBs (polychlorinated biphenyls)
and mercury contamination right here in Greenland, and all over the
Arctic. These industrial pollutants are
carried to the Arctic from all over the world by prevailing winds and ocean
currents, and they bioaccumulate,
magnifying exponentially as they move up the food chain in animals and
humans. Levels of these contaminants are
so high in some Arctic populations that people’s bodies, by some
classifications, would be considered hazardous waste. </span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">These are some of the most pervasive and potent toxins on the planet
right now, along with the PBDEs (polybrominated diphenyl ethers) used in flame
retardants for electronics like my laptop and the Teflon you just cooked your
eggs in. Like PCBs and certain heavy
metals, brominated flame retardants
accumulate in the fat cells of animals and people. These are man-made chemicals which scramble
our hormones, disarm our immune systems, and confuse the inner workings of our
brains- and the Artic has become the planet’s dumping ground for them.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">I’ve begun to understand that nowhere on Earth has been left untouched
by our trash in one form or another, and I’m not sure I believe any longer in
my own personal salvation of a Last Place. </span><br />
</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfUV3OXedoUjwEOmF6Qa_9qbmYCHffyPcycMKLl8jwBQB31dPmE0vL8pFMh-Yi-TP7nM5lReqcZEIigc5EwOMazuT48itV5lBjAIog1vViFkj-Y1VrSML3njSd0F5P3qwZeuRCXnwZih4/s1600/blog+7+%283%29.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfUV3OXedoUjwEOmF6Qa_9qbmYCHffyPcycMKLl8jwBQB31dPmE0vL8pFMh-Yi-TP7nM5lReqcZEIigc5EwOMazuT48itV5lBjAIog1vViFkj-Y1VrSML3njSd0F5P3qwZeuRCXnwZih4/s640/blog+7+%283%29.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It's beautiful here in Greenland by any standards.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Why am I talking about all this?
Why not stick to pretty pictures and easy topics? What if I alienate all my followers from the
Tea Party who think the hard facts of climate science are a fanatical hoax
designed by leftist liberals (like me) to undermine the GNP and status quo? I continually hear that the Earth has
undergone cycles of heating and cooling for millennia (true), and that what we
are now experiencing is no different (false).
Ice core records from Antarctica and Greenland indicate that carbon
dioxide levels haven’t been this high for <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">eight
hundred thousand years</i>. * </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Beauty and ease are absolutely worthy, and I like sharing that part of
my journey. But there’s more to me and
more to the story.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">I mention all this because I’m concerned that we’re ignoring the signs
of a crippled planetary life support system.
We can’t continue to destroy the planet by leaving the refuse and wreckage
of our lifestyle in our wake. Whether it’s contamination from heavy metals and
chemical toxins from industry, coal-burning, and incineration, or the
discarding of plastic packaging on land and at sea, or the dumping of millions
of tons of carbon in the air every year, we’re in trouble. We’ve reached a major tipping point.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">My project here in Greenland is small and personal. I want to investigate what I believe are the
earth’s last strongholds where ecosystems are still intact- though now I
realize I should say IF, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">if they are
intact.</i> I came to the Arctic because
I want to see for myself what’s going on, and to document this place with the
skills I have been granted in this life as an artist. It may amount to nothing on the grand scale
of things, but a good dose of intimate engagement and fierce passion is what
will make the difference in whether we humans continue to inhabit this
planet. Or not. The choice belongs to
all of us. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 8pt;">* D. Luthi et al, “High-Resolution Carbon Dioxide Concentration Record
650,000-800,000 Years before Present,” <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Nature</i>
453 (2008): 379-382</span></div>
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<br /></div>Rebecca Barfoothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00084787714415747688noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7296425706511972291.post-62737739866020732802012-07-23T06:30:00.002-07:002012-07-23T06:31:16.006-07:00Upernavik and the Artist's Retreat<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8ANL3YcnlObMVmINjjcZuqMKzbXdZDqUQHPWEsQsMOvzwGOiVYTOe7tyhMbqVNm9ErblxwwRteq2aM5uu9cjkPyMX_lVIxFq3Mq6jX0f3N230mNKHcFNU3X8lQlTta5zDCMVCUK1fVZo/s1600/Greenland+004+71912.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8ANL3YcnlObMVmINjjcZuqMKzbXdZDqUQHPWEsQsMOvzwGOiVYTOe7tyhMbqVNm9ErblxwwRteq2aM5uu9cjkPyMX_lVIxFq3Mq6jX0f3N230mNKHcFNU3X8lQlTta5zDCMVCUK1fVZo/s640/Greenland+004+71912.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Home sweet home</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">I only had four full days in Upernavik, Greenland before I left on the
kayak trip. I’ve been back a few days
now and am rewinding to tell you a little more about my surroundings and life
here in this very small town on a very small island about 15 miles off the
coast of the mainland. </span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Upernavik</span></i><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> means “springtime place” and is the name of the
settlement, the island and a very large district that spreads north along the
coast to Melville Bay. This area was
colonized by Danish traders in the 1700’s, but it has been home to Inuit and
other indigenous groups for centuries. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span><i><span style="font-size: 12pt;">July 21.
I wake disoriented again, dreaming of people from home. Heavy fog, and
some new icebergs have blown in close to the house. Maybe I will paint outside. I hate being out much during the work week
because the burn station is just over the hill, where they burn all (and I mean
all) the garbage from town. Today is
Saturday so there is a rest from the poison in the air.</span></i><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFBlDc0dlkCvaJGsmPd6tH7E2j13XnDMnNDvxkX5nVu_Sq8NPhjLLj7vMuAtVYxUUOgeztWWEnj2zfubLdu46rEL4PX0Gp4Eri2MwT3hxK96L8ISkUmbkI-_kFPwqXF-Bt-mqdFLRe-28/s1600/greenland+003.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFBlDc0dlkCvaJGsmPd6tH7E2j13XnDMnNDvxkX5nVu_Sq8NPhjLLj7vMuAtVYxUUOgeztWWEnj2zfubLdu46rEL4PX0Gp4Eri2MwT3hxK96L8ISkUmbkI-_kFPwqXF-Bt-mqdFLRe-28/s640/greenland+003.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The old church, no longer in use, burn pit is down the hill out of sight</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl2qOTBWxfQmw7Sjt9ltiO5gKoAwrBmB08y5L_INeXqlwZHRqDGk9PUreNfplPRXD5sgR9NAoPHUXLRP8K0qzm6ha9xF1NOvGb1egPNd2uaPyssALluRrjy09zzQgSW0cu437Z9SdWfIU/s1600/greenland+010.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl2qOTBWxfQmw7Sjt9ltiO5gKoAwrBmB08y5L_INeXqlwZHRqDGk9PUreNfplPRXD5sgR9NAoPHUXLRP8K0qzm6ha9xF1NOvGb1egPNd2uaPyssALluRrjy09zzQgSW0cu437Z9SdWfIU/s640/greenland+010.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Upernavik town</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">I’m told there are over 1,000 people living in this town with its
bright red, blue, green, and yellow houses spilling down the hillside to the
sea. Hard to believe, even though there
are a few cars here and even a few central roads to drive them on. There’s also a small medical center, a post
office, and a little market. The grocery
chain, called <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Pilersuisok, </i>holds an undeniable monopoly. Each settlement has one, supplied with
expensive canned, frozen and packaged food from Denmark that arrives by
ship. </span></div>
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<tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB-gFS2lLDAGZ1E0mGuCiMHqjmfHWP3KtNkVVuDWp4bZYp5c5vOYBNP8UB-spp63cmlXI91AP_JzXuhJeYULEXvmEew0JNp_CGr_BEYdr031-uraZGkjATvzdvyopzl4IqIfJ34x_0sLA/s1600/greenland+019.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB-gFS2lLDAGZ1E0mGuCiMHqjmfHWP3KtNkVVuDWp4bZYp5c5vOYBNP8UB-spp63cmlXI91AP_JzXuhJeYULEXvmEew0JNp_CGr_BEYdr031-uraZGkjATvzdvyopzl4IqIfJ34x_0sLA/s640/greenland+019.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The small medical building in Upernavik - anything serious requires an airlift out of here.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">The <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">refugium</i> where I live and
work is a restored 1800’s cooper’s workshop – the place where barrels for
blubber were once made. It’s one of the original buildings from the settlement
and I’m astonished when I look at old photos to see this house in them. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">I’m so happy to have the opportunity to be here. There are few, if any expectations of me
imposed by the Upernavik museum. In
fact, when I arrived, I was handed a key and no questions were asked, no
explanations given. I’m figuring most
things out on my own and am content with that.
Most artist’s residency programs involve teaching, having the studio
open to the public, and/or getting ready for a final exhibit - and don’t
include kayak expeditions! Not so here,
and I’m enjoying the time to experience as much as I can of Greenland; to film,
paint and draw on my own schedule, knowing the major creative work will happen
back in Colorado this fall and winter.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqM_n_cCV971acCx94Mx75t9NzdnUXwjwwmdHBDKwGEaHFAvWtgSHOswUv8SczTOAiQqb2SRxN_4818CJPsYew2ULxsgXZaWZRXYQRHhrIW2XTDqf5RksWLYFTR2CvI1Q1KzSfSZ1aKro/s1600/Greenland+014.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="536" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqM_n_cCV971acCx94Mx75t9NzdnUXwjwwmdHBDKwGEaHFAvWtgSHOswUv8SczTOAiQqb2SRxN_4818CJPsYew2ULxsgXZaWZRXYQRHhrIW2XTDqf5RksWLYFTR2CvI1Q1KzSfSZ1aKro/s640/Greenland+014.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"> Nine of the past ten months of my life have been spent living and
working away from my beloved Colorado, and it was with some weariness that I
embarked on this last, long leg of my self-appointed “Year of Art”. It seems like I’ve been in near-constant
transition lately, always juggling logistics and trying to find some relief
from the anxiety I feel about my future.
The calm and silence I find here are invaluable to me on a deep,
personal level. It’s a luxury to have some
slower time now that art projects in New York and New Mexico are completed and
I accomplished the major fundraising effort required to make this Arctic trip a
reality.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">The logistics aren’t over yet. I still have to figure out where I’m
living when I return to Durango, what studio space to occupy. (I can’t wait to get my hands on some
porcelain… there is so much work to be done!) And what source of income? </span>
<br />
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">I’m the proud renter of a storage unit - and that’s all. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">But here, now. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">From what I can discern, there have been other artists working at the
retreat from Argentina, Lithuania, Israel, Japan, Italy, the UK and others
disparate locations. And it looks like
love has blossomed here as well as art! An Australian photographer in residence met a
policeman in Upernavik that she fancied (and he, her). They were married earlier this year. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">The bottom level of the retreat is composed of a small kitchen and
laundry room, with a living room facing the sea that also poses as the
studio. Lots of windows and light. Wooden floors, ahhh. (NICE.)
The ocean is my closest friend here, a stone’s throw from my writing
desk, and icebergs shift imperceptibly on the tide. There is always a new view. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE49MGeXtXXm3mIXCeEMtMd6zAzbQsfDrtkUMzW_AY9EDA-BDI2EDbnJAPjbfJAhDISYa8Q8Z-GCHTyq8gkLnDEWO2HZ2vh5ghxyFKokozndGGTQUfTzyAarKsE1Oo2vqMnZ25ijbxo6I/s1600/Greenland+006+72112.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE49MGeXtXXm3mIXCeEMtMd6zAzbQsfDrtkUMzW_AY9EDA-BDI2EDbnJAPjbfJAhDISYa8Q8Z-GCHTyq8gkLnDEWO2HZ2vh5ghxyFKokozndGGTQUfTzyAarKsE1Oo2vqMnZ25ijbxo6I/s400/Greenland+006+72112.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Part of my workspace</td></tr>
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<tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNxh1nR3HKuEn4OpGkH3p7-kuT04Lnk_OJpvSE9BCoexfWDw6mSDB_yrdJ3GI-Kx6rxcb9AdR5OOd71WPDfBf6lZdJJEJ2uQQLzWDuMZmbx_ZQDftkIGdgMdv-CxZRzkCbO43dZoVPRWI/s1600/Greenland+002+71912.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="438" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNxh1nR3HKuEn4OpGkH3p7-kuT04Lnk_OJpvSE9BCoexfWDw6mSDB_yrdJ3GI-Kx6rxcb9AdR5OOd71WPDfBf6lZdJJEJ2uQQLzWDuMZmbx_ZQDftkIGdgMdv-CxZRzkCbO43dZoVPRWI/s640/Greenland+002+71912.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some late night reading...</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Upstairs is a cozy gabled bedroom and small bathroom. Danish touches abound, reminding me of my
months spent in Denmark in 2009. There
are no trees in Greenland, and the abundance of wooden houses is puzzling. Until the 1950’s the Inuit lived in stone and
sod huts – Danes brought the boxy houses we are all familiar with. I wonder what forest provided the lumber for
this place, and to house the thousand occupants of this town? There is no plumbing
here in Upernavik either, but water runs from a hundred gallons tank that gets
filled on Tuesdays and Thursdays. I’ve read there is a desalination plant that
makes potable water from the sea. Human
waste also gets picked up on alternate days…</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">And enough said!</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">I’m off for a hiking break and to see what happens on Saturday in
Upernavik. The weekends are very sleepy
but a soccer game might be going- and everyone here loves that. </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7mC9xCguHjvslx3FBvLt0AufCCUl13A1ye6eRPweMs-jtg4J-1BoDeINMcavUo611r479W6PwoPMqQuwCTQ2wfqbSZfI6mBJ2iMIKaZT6EmDtjZNlIUAeIAA6LlITNiEUiMYcOSU8RfA/s1600/Greenland+007+72112.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7mC9xCguHjvslx3FBvLt0AufCCUl13A1ye6eRPweMs-jtg4J-1BoDeINMcavUo611r479W6PwoPMqQuwCTQ2wfqbSZfI6mBJ2iMIKaZT6EmDtjZNlIUAeIAA6LlITNiEUiMYcOSU8RfA/s640/Greenland+007+72112.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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Rebecca Barfoothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00084787714415747688noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7296425706511972291.post-51781823329088824612012-07-19T08:02:00.000-07:002012-07-20T07:18:10.867-07:00Arctic Kayak Adventure<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I've made it back safely to Upernavik after an exhilarating kayak
journey to the north!!! Our small group spent
two weeks paddling a circuit of small islands off the coast of mainland
Greenland at about 75 degrees </span>N latitude.
Our destination was Reindeer Valley/Tugtulikavsak. We threaded our boats through fjords littered
with icebergs, camped on tiny islands, drank from glaciers, hiked on the inland
ice, and saw no one but a couple of Inuit hunters searching for seal and
narwhal.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kayakers in intense arctic light<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We paddled through some pretty dense ice on this trip... yowzah!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mainland glacier meets the sea, as seen from the chopper</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">It’s hard to ground my experience here on the page, to put to words
what was so completely breathtaking and, in the truest sense, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">awesome</i>. </span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Saturday July 7. I dream so deeply out here, lavishly. The days fall seamlessly into one another,
night becoming day becoming night again. Always light. The world feels timeless
and on some mornings I wake disoriented, forgetting where I am – and who I am. </span></i></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Our group was led by Nikolaj, a Dane now living in Upernavik, and his
assistant Rickard - a kind and fun-loving young Swede. Two Germans, Jan and Mieka, recently married,
rounded out our posse. We flew by
helicopter on July 5<sup>th</sup> to the very small settlement of
Kuvndlorssuaq, where our kayaks, gear, and an unprecedented Arctic adventure awaited
us. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Orange lichen and a kayaker fishing</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Kuvdlorssuaq… is unlike any place you’ve ever been, as are all the
settlements here in GL!! It’s home to a
couple hundred people and as many sled dogs.
There are no cars or roads, no plumbing or running water. The stench of rotting seal blubber and whale
carcasses is overpowering. Piles of
trash – including plastic bags full of human waste - lie in the dust by the
small houses. Steeply pitched footpaths
connect the settlement, and all ways lead to the harbor. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The settlement of Kuvndlorssuaq</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">We loaded our boats while surrounded by a throng of local kids and
adults, since no one is shy and tourists in Kuvdlorssuaq are rare. As in Upernavik, there are many babies and
teen mothers. I haven’t yet looked up
demographics for this area, but it seems like half the population is under age
25 – and I wonder what their lives will be like, are like. I managed to interview/film a young mother
who works at the health care center in the settlement. She spoke some English! It was so cool to swap stories with her. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">We spent the night with a local hunter and his large expended
family. The men of Kuvdlorssuaq still
hunt traditionally and many husbands, fathers, and sons were out on hunting
trips when we arrived. We were served <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">mattock </i>by the women of the family, raw whale
skin in broth. There is clearly no
wealth in the settlement but our hosts own a large HD TV which blared English
and Danish sitcoms throughout dinner. I longed to talk more with our Inuit
hosts, but it takes time to become conversant in Greenlandic/Kalaalisut!!</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sweet kids in Kuvdlorssuaq</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Inuit hunter posing with the (huge) penis bone of a walrus</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Boys in Kuvdlorssuaq</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">The following morning, after little sleep, we wrestled our remaining
gear (somehow) into the kayaks, waved to the crowd gathered at the harbor and
headed north through open water, finally on the sea!! It was a relief to shed the chaos of our travel
and preparation days as we paddled into the long light of the Far North. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUPDf00n4BY8eLOXYIBBgfL0x5Xt9IrX1RNSTGlv062sfIHV28PmL_0gFDb9uFZtjbqRPg7WWiKhkQNarOfzNxcG53UCTnu8fxk8sYQK-PcWBrp0j59e97zGEmx5j91ey0g4uXtC2_HRw/s1600/Greenland,+Kayaking+150.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUPDf00n4BY8eLOXYIBBgfL0x5Xt9IrX1RNSTGlv062sfIHV28PmL_0gFDb9uFZtjbqRPg7WWiKhkQNarOfzNxcG53UCTnu8fxk8sYQK-PcWBrp0j59e97zGEmx5j91ey0g4uXtC2_HRw/s640/Greenland,+Kayaking+150.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mist rising from the ice, ethereal</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"> IT WAS SO EXCITING TO FINALLY SEE THE ICE UP CLOSE!!!!!!! WOW!!!!!
What had existed only in my imagination before became suddenly,
irrevocably real. It felt like a dream
to be kayaking near icebergs glowing with sapphire light as I navigated the
fjords, each berg like a translucent porcelain sculpture adrift on the water.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Iceberg abstraction from the air... I LOVE the color of that sapphire water!!</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Rock. Ice. Sea. Sky. After
several days paddling, I realized my world had been reduced to these four
essential elements, the yellow of my kayak and drysuit startling the monochrome
of blue and white that defines the Arctic. </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Tuesday July 10. A break from paddling today. We explored Reindeer Valley and hiked to the
inland ice today – walking on the glacier!!! It’s spectacular, surreal. Didn’t break down camp – decided to stay 2
nights here instead. A luxury, but the
mosquitoes are so bad, devouring me even through my layers and the bug net over
my head, ugh. </span></i></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Our days had a rhythm, and I felt blessed to have a tent to myself to
collapse in after exhausting days on the water and with each other. We’d usually meet around 8:30 each morning
for some kind of breakfast and I would wake up early to sneak in some reading ("A Naturalist's Guide to the Arctic", by E.C. Pielou)
and writing time before a full day with no downtime. Then the work of breaking camp and moving
kayaks back to the waterline, meticulously packing the boats, suiting up to
kayak, and finally hitting the water for a couple hours where I could be
quieter with my thoughts, a relief from the everlasting noise of the group -
the banter a combination of Danish, Swedish, and German as well as English!</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Home for the night, Reindeer Valley </td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">I’m not sure if it’s a European thing, but the meals were so protracted
they tried my patience. (Maybe this is
because I’ve been 22 years a vegan and there was so little for me to survive on
for this trip?!) We’d paddle to an
island for lunch, fight off the droves of mosquitoes while we ate, paddle a few
more hours and make camp again, pull our boats to shore high above the waves, and immediately start making dinner, with several
fuel stoves going at once. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">I have to reveal that there were no reindeer to be seen at Reindeer
Valley, though birdlife was plentiful.
I saw eider ducks, Arctic terns, glaucous gulls, snow buntings, and black
guillemots. But the only mammals we saw
were a few bearded seals. No beluga, no narwhal. I spotted a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">single </i>fish in the water below my boat in all the days we
kayaked. And when Nikolaj and Rickard
fished on three consecutive evenings, they came back empty handed every
time. It has definitely made me wonder
what’s going on; if even here in the Arctic we are feeling the effects of
centuries of commercial fishing and that things have become out of balance. </span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Thursday July 12. Wake to the cacophony of arctic terns
overhead and the explosions of icebergs calving, breaking apart. Sounds like
gunfire. We do actually have two rifles
with us in case of polar bear, to scare them off. How strange to be traveling with
weapons. You can buy guns and ammo in
the grocery store in GL. Everyone owns
guns here.</span></i></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBC4Lsq61vB3uk55cEA39aycmBDbIeNnrDTdpwhU_JhKLjs2wqrRCeIqBP_NHVcJiN1jyEhU-ESxrc8NrH7sdDmbryTVGPLLcZ36Dudgw1tTFv6BWKS5TJLrczX5OT0SU0F4X8nbsUnd4/s1600/Greenland,+Kayaking+167.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBC4Lsq61vB3uk55cEA39aycmBDbIeNnrDTdpwhU_JhKLjs2wqrRCeIqBP_NHVcJiN1jyEhU-ESxrc8NrH7sdDmbryTVGPLLcZ36Dudgw1tTFv6BWKS5TJLrczX5OT0SU0F4X8nbsUnd4/s640/Greenland,+Kayaking+167.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My ride back to Upernavik<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga_zQT-Io0DGoeHygonlfq_zY1jHzJjzcyzSmLWwuJn0e1onHhgo9OoAKSeicCeQM1mo3qM21AB4H-qIfEfa4b3sCbCDgaYJGryXwU33u2VTWL5SOrU-OZp7Aa1PwXZDvyOKAY7sQuHgI/s1600/Greenland,+Kayaking+060.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga_zQT-Io0DGoeHygonlfq_zY1jHzJjzcyzSmLWwuJn0e1onHhgo9OoAKSeicCeQM1mo3qM21AB4H-qIfEfa4b3sCbCDgaYJGryXwU33u2VTWL5SOrU-OZp7Aa1PwXZDvyOKAY7sQuHgI/s640/Greenland,+Kayaking+060.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My boat on a rare Arctic beach</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">The good news is, all five of us managed to avoid the potential disaster
of flipping a fully loaded kayak into the frigid Arctic waters!!! I did
a lot of filming, photographing, and note-taking. I’m musing constantly about what art will
result from my time here, and what I will create now in the studio while still in GL. I had the experience of a lifetime these last
weeks on the sea, in one of the last truly wild places on Earth. Gratitude fills me. </span><br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWd1CViJduKC-BK13j351VB_dxPFU8qZ_rB0Q02tDT_PTDNwKqqZLHb-PNMe8sQxamNR0EvIynDf1gk9shwTnxlg9k0J_bs7Z4Gqov0b5VXWAcLfJM-QZ3gJTwJoRZ9OQQp-eipKA3Yy8/s1600/Greenland,+Kayaking+108.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWd1CViJduKC-BK13j351VB_dxPFU8qZ_rB0Q02tDT_PTDNwKqqZLHb-PNMe8sQxamNR0EvIynDf1gk9shwTnxlg9k0J_bs7Z4Gqov0b5VXWAcLfJM-QZ3gJTwJoRZ9OQQp-eipKA3Yy8/s400/Greenland,+Kayaking+108.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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I<span style="font-size: 12pt;">’m writing (offline) tonight in the comfort and solitude of my red
house on the shore in Upernavik again.
It’s late. I slept 11 hours last
night and can feel that tonight will be much the same. I’m so tired. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">A motorboat of fishermen has just sped past. I wonder if they caught
anything. The fog drifted in last night
and has shrouded the village since morning.
Hard to believe it’s July. Hard
to believe so many multiple/coincident realities exist on this little blue
planet we all call home. </span></div>
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<br /></div>Rebecca Barfoothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00084787714415747688noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7296425706511972291.post-28953669319839931102012-07-04T17:50:00.001-07:002012-07-04T17:51:16.308-07:00Breaking News!!!!!!<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Icebergs near Little Reindeer Valley</td></tr>
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Last minute update!! I will be leaving in the morning for a two week kayak expedition with Kayak North, a small touring operation here in Upernavik. They had a cancellation for their Reindeer Valley trip and I have been invited, expenses paid. Lucky me!! From their<a href="http://www.kayak-north.com/"> home page</a> there is a link to a Spot Tracker which will be mapping our whereabouts for the next 14 days. I will return on July 17 if the weather is good enough to land the helicopter. Tomorrow we head north to Kuvdlorssuaq where we organize kayaks and gear. WOW. I am so blessed. I'll be filming and taking pics til my batteries run out, and taking lots of written notes and doing some painting- along with plenty of paddling and hiking. Sad to say I will not be able to blog til my return. I will miss you all but will be absorbing the silence and raw wild of the real Greenland- a very rare opportunity. Bon Voyage!!Rebecca Barfoothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00084787714415747688noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7296425706511972291.post-91719034012875075802012-07-04T17:32:00.000-07:002012-08-09T11:45:35.845-07:00Light without end<span lang="EN"></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf1wmtc_9mk_hTd-Fr3fvN9drJ5ofUQKElgoXc0uaExtWrT1Mq9TMFzUh_fxmTJflr0gDrkiEwuHIOm7PUJIWai5sOZBS8Zeqgwd_Eob_bzcayyQw88o5G3Gu0uwhxe5jTiu9fVNBAOXY/s1600/greenland+016.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf1wmtc_9mk_hTd-Fr3fvN9drJ5ofUQKElgoXc0uaExtWrT1Mq9TMFzUh_fxmTJflr0gDrkiEwuHIOm7PUJIWai5sOZBS8Zeqgwd_Eob_bzcayyQw88o5G3Gu0uwhxe5jTiu9fVNBAOXY/s640/greenland+016.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<br />
July 4. It<span lang="DA">’</span><span lang="EN">s my fourth morning here in Greenland, fourth night spent without a sunset, without darkness or stars. I now live in an ethereal world of constant light, and I block the windows so I can sleep in my little attic room overlooking the sea. </span><br />
<br />
Sleep isn<span lang="DA">’</span><span lang="EN">t a problem for me though - not yet!! I</span><span lang="DA">’</span><span lang="EN">m still catching up from a couple nights spent awake on the trip to GL. Reflecting now from a quieter vantage point, I realize how incredibly busy I was as I prepared to leave Colorado for the Arctic. Rest is so welcome, and I find myself sinking into with abandon. I dream of trees, bike riding, and the people I long for. </span><br />
<br />
Most days, the humidity and clouds allow only a dim distinction between water and air, ocean and sky. I squint my eyes looking for a horizon, for giant icebergs that might tell me where the world begins and ends. The light and color are so gentle. <br />
<br />
The lack of night makes this whole experience seem timeless. I love not knowing (or caring) what hour it is. There<span lang="DA">’</span><span lang="EN">s nowhere for me to be but right here, right now, in the middle of noon or midnight. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWQFwMwKjjL7dJY1TY7p1e1YAbC_iNasSnnb4vUUC1LUokyNKVOQizqfiw7VSjwVsBKQfrvIWa-cNC0X8Zx7qB2pZ2iZE5YWF-iOkF1Ar-DwBVlim2OBHqK2Po3xGRos1lUWMKmnwtjVQ/s1600/greenland+019.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWQFwMwKjjL7dJY1TY7p1e1YAbC_iNasSnnb4vUUC1LUokyNKVOQizqfiw7VSjwVsBKQfrvIWa-cNC0X8Zx7qB2pZ2iZE5YWF-iOkF1Ar-DwBVlim2OBHqK2Po3xGRos1lUWMKmnwtjVQ/s640/greenland+019.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Taken last night about 11:30pm from the front of my cabin... Greetings from GL!!! </td></tr>
</tbody></table>Rebecca Barfoothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00084787714415747688noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7296425706511972291.post-63399324366257872412012-07-03T09:53:00.001-07:002012-07-04T17:25:45.003-07:00Greenland/Kalaallit Nunaat<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Arctic poppies, Ilulissat</td></tr>
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<link href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5CUPERNA%7E1%5CLOKALE%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml" rel="File-List"></link><span lang="EN">Arrival!! </span><br />
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I<span lang="DA">’</span><span lang="EN">m writing from the little red cabin next to the Upernavik Museum on Baffin Bay. It</span><span lang="DA">’</span><span lang="EN">s Day 2 for me here in Greenland. It took four full travel days to make the journey via Europe, and the time was addled by late flights and missed departures. (Aargh!!!) </span><br />
<br />
I<span lang="DA">’</span><span lang="EN">m so very relieved to have made it </span><span lang="DA">–</span><span lang="EN"> and my single duffel bag too!! Everything still feels a bit surreal and exhaustion is probably heightening my sense of disconnection and mild confusion. It</span><span lang="DA">’</span><span lang="EN">s a lot to take in at once. The population of Upernavik is largely Inuit, and I am painfully, obviously foreign- the only Anglo on the plane in fact. </span><br />
<span lang="EN">I have so many questions!! </span><br />
<br />
What I know so far: the sun never sets, there isn<span lang="DA">’</span><span lang="EN">t much ice left in the bay these days, there are lots of sled dogs here, and the sea air is sharp, pungent and (refreshingly) moist. I have 35 days here, alone. </span><br />
<br />
I<span lang="DA">’</span><span lang="EN">ve managed to learn two rudimentary phrases in Greenlandic: <i>Ayunngi</i>, which is similar to “how are you?”… and <i>Qujanaq </i>which means thank you. </span><br />
<br />
So far, I<span lang="DA">’</span><span lang="EN">ve only taken photos and done some video recording in Ilulissat on the way to Upernavik, where I had a long layover. Here is a bit that I filmed near the icefjord, which also happens to be a World Heritage Site. It</span><span lang="DA">’</span><span lang="EN">s truly stunning. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Iceberg in Ilulissat... Incredible!!!</td></tr>
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<br />
Already I can hear the rattling din of my own inner monologue. <i>Produce something worthwhile here</i>, the incessant expectation that I carry with me everywhere. <i>Make sure you do something that matters. </i>And what if I can<span lang="DA">’</span><span lang="EN">t, what if I don</span><span lang="DA">’</span><span lang="EN">t? </span><br />
This, even though my world is now pared down to the utmost simplicity. Upernavik is a quiet place, far removed from … just about everything. I have no phone and internet use is limited to times when the museum is open, which is irregular and random as far as I can tell. And then I am charged for it. It<span lang="DA">’</span><span lang="EN">s expensive. </span><br />
Today I<span lang="DA">’</span><span lang="EN">m composing offline, looking out at the cold ocean, which is literally only a stone</span><span lang="DA">’</span><span lang="EN">s throw from the rocky shore. An iceberg sits there, biding its time, waiting to join with the sea. I feel as if I</span><span lang="DA">’</span><span lang="EN">m waiting for something too - perhaps just someone to talk to. Communication. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Edge of the glacier from the plane between Kangerlussuaq and Ilulissat</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">More icebergs in Ilulissat</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinahcKc8pHpwfMUGYTGryJWy2v93-u2aQY-o4y9nmvGs7qDJUQv5F1TJauqOObSjj_cNv5BLCLh5NBfNvMtH5eFwZ9-Cp66Z8cML31r6rDxsWTRcE76DWYp6Q45kcV1QEw-_BmR_QCf88/s1600/ilulissat+airport+helicopter.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinahcKc8pHpwfMUGYTGryJWy2v93-u2aQY-o4y9nmvGs7qDJUQv5F1TJauqOObSjj_cNv5BLCLh5NBfNvMtH5eFwZ9-Cp66Z8cML31r6rDxsWTRcE76DWYp6Q45kcV1QEw-_BmR_QCf88/s640/ilulissat+airport+helicopter.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Helicopter landing at Ilulissat airport</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPbq3pZuB9iDvHOxjxYFB0ti5fmBy6y7k4KKgSqNVFDzNLwr_HxPD6lRFDwHs9TRI8U7h7RlzsuAj9m7yf-OWMPpFYUTcn0q1BL0gSiJyyrqSVb5cNHEeyhJ05LsMeaNAb92ki7mAEWS8/s1600/kanger+flowers.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPbq3pZuB9iDvHOxjxYFB0ti5fmBy6y7k4KKgSqNVFDzNLwr_HxPD6lRFDwHs9TRI8U7h7RlzsuAj9m7yf-OWMPpFYUTcn0q1BL0gSiJyyrqSVb5cNHEeyhJ05LsMeaNAb92ki7mAEWS8/s640/kanger+flowers.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dwarf Fireweed at Kangerlussuaq, a former Cold War Era, US military base where I spent the night last Friday. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs0VmtxQRQc2WGcCB89BRPwyh4pU8G4VonvzUdjyh_0u_I_hHicRKI5ouJbQDOr0z1KAz9IsG7Gctv0582_o5CRx-h-duULOXy-o2tkdm5wv5DB7kSo_KH-5FzAv7pT_veJjoi3TwNCy0/s1600/sealskin+seatbacks+il.+airport.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs0VmtxQRQc2WGcCB89BRPwyh4pU8G4VonvzUdjyh_0u_I_hHicRKI5ouJbQDOr0z1KAz9IsG7Gctv0582_o5CRx-h-duULOXy-o2tkdm5wv5DB7kSo_KH-5FzAv7pT_veJjoi3TwNCy0/s640/sealskin+seatbacks+il.+airport.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Airport benches upholstered in sealskin, Ilulissat </td></tr>
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</style>Rebecca Barfoothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00084787714415747688noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7296425706511972291.post-32097404258152477642012-06-25T16:49:00.000-07:002012-06-25T16:52:45.188-07:00Countdown to departure<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmK4LbPzqO4j47n794JFfYLqv5oKbn8TPgRVhlYF3eyVBdlFofTtgADZS0DNLsI3BX9etLJKrQj9clY92yniC2YENVQFRWZa6Z9XXpBN6XPYJSlVxUVSv8wpHvucWLL29vUCKcu8p6530/s1600/800px-Kulusuk,_Greenland_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmK4LbPzqO4j47n794JFfYLqv5oKbn8TPgRVhlYF3eyVBdlFofTtgADZS0DNLsI3BX9etLJKrQj9clY92yniC2YENVQFRWZa6Z9XXpBN6XPYJSlVxUVSv8wpHvucWLL29vUCKcu8p6530/s640/800px-Kulusuk,_Greenland_2.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Less than 48 hours until I depart for the small island
settlement of Upernavik in Northwest Greenland.
I’m packing for temps in the 30’s, snow and sleet, while it’s in the
mid-90’s at home in Colorado lately and about as dry as it’s ever been. Fires rage to the east, west, and south of Durango. The snow is gone from the high peaks now, the
river runs low, and the wildflowers are already going to seed in the high
country. It’s not yet July.<br />
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The world is changing, and most abruptly in the Polar North
and South – the Arctic and Antarctic. I’m
thrilled to have the opportunity to travel to a place that few will ever see,
and a little afraid to arrive in Upernavik to find Baffin Bay free of ice -
even at 72’N latitude. I’ll be filming in
Greenland, and creating drawings and sketches from which I’ll make even more
work that documents my time in the Arctic.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9fW9c1KVal0jFRDq9U1UULPdO0nMvE2hmhu18Hd9DtxTwe0ebq1-DINGmTo0RTjAW3gW_T6Z-arwz2nvgM7x0jF-_u3w4gorriWjkfXFRhmOXvX5uEBDK6tSK3bMzYLt_eCpLicFbXW0/s1600/orendaga+030.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9fW9c1KVal0jFRDq9U1UULPdO0nMvE2hmhu18Hd9DtxTwe0ebq1-DINGmTo0RTjAW3gW_T6Z-arwz2nvgM7x0jF-_u3w4gorriWjkfXFRhmOXvX5uEBDK6tSK3bMzYLt_eCpLicFbXW0/s400/orendaga+030.JPG" width="300" /></a>Here is a sampling of creations from the past months. My work is changing and I can’t yet envision what will come of my Arctic
Art Expedition. I know the experience will
be both awesome and heartbreaking.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdVdvvEvdU4pKHoVC1HZVr2o4YVbgM9J6crrhhJ1IUatJl87HOEmGoVJZpMeL_SXkZmxw4-9OMyB850FSHkZFoFBi5gZteLKVSifDFxcOD70N_HLYLnWB-SzWOy-hZNM9XVObrEKxWvq0/s1600/021.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdVdvvEvdU4pKHoVC1HZVr2o4YVbgM9J6crrhhJ1IUatJl87HOEmGoVJZpMeL_SXkZmxw4-9OMyB850FSHkZFoFBi5gZteLKVSifDFxcOD70N_HLYLnWB-SzWOy-hZNM9XVObrEKxWvq0/s400/021.JPG" width="298" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Burn", porcelain tiles with china paint and custom decal</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiF8ppab05_z470ferf3RttAmD4ak7T8eUedG7k3W8HV-HJo-ci_8lIbT2j6jF1BlWzyidufqCbCQEXn7QafLJVh5698JP5iAMXLUD7Ko5E4B1KtLT-mAakcDkCFmZsw5qzgYTJwrqL98/s1600/polar+bear.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiF8ppab05_z470ferf3RttAmD4ak7T8eUedG7k3W8HV-HJo-ci_8lIbT2j6jF1BlWzyidufqCbCQEXn7QafLJVh5698JP5iAMXLUD7Ko5E4B1KtLT-mAakcDkCFmZsw5qzgYTJwrqL98/s400/polar+bear.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Hybrid" ( polar/grizzly), acrylic on paper</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYfCKSzNKZBTl8LvoQPCzaehZ-Ti9ZEeMk-OJM8Z3uBzHrNe5JVRnKew1p5RstMNnNp9lUuTmE00yq-K34BXZmYq2XYEEZPfzHn50BRu-KOcjtbX1EJu59PTaRYv5hcD0tLz7ITohZcQY/s1600/orendaga+087.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYfCKSzNKZBTl8LvoQPCzaehZ-Ti9ZEeMk-OJM8Z3uBzHrNe5JVRnKew1p5RstMNnNp9lUuTmE00yq-K34BXZmYq2XYEEZPfzHn50BRu-KOcjtbX1EJu59PTaRYv5hcD0tLz7ITohZcQY/s400/orendaga+087.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Ride for the World", lithographic image transfer on porcelain paperclay</td></tr>
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I have to admit I'm not sure I'm ready to step out along into the cool white and blue world of the Far North, which so
far exists only in my imagination. Today I'm packing just a single 20 kilo bag that will have to sustain me and my creative projects for the next 6 weeks. Tomorrow I'll repack obsessively and spend another sweltering night tossing and turning, awake with countless unknowns spinning in my head. Wednesday, tired goodbyes and a final departure. </div>
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Several days later, Greenland - via Denver, Frankfurt,
Copenhagen, Ilulissat, and Kangerlussuaq!!
At the end of the line, Upernavik, and the little red cabin where I will live and work at the northernmost museum in the world. Adventure awaits, ready or not.<br />
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greenland photo credits: Ville Miettinen and Ljiljana Vojvodic </div>
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</div>Rebecca Barfoothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00084787714415747688noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7296425706511972291.post-85873858367241381612009-05-03T05:34:00.000-07:002009-05-03T08:11:36.529-07:00cyanotypes, springtime, success!<div><div><div></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKly_vk_mpbninwBfhnal1MySm3cyNr4Ab7uhOGIiznhtgIQpCOfxv6bQVaM1JxjomoIrZoeP6bkYVUevvIKiBbCgxxQdAW2m6LDHVX-TSaOiQiZ9RMHkPHMM0xC6jy4wQFs14tjflfmo/s1600-h/087.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331586813622366226" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKly_vk_mpbninwBfhnal1MySm3cyNr4Ab7uhOGIiznhtgIQpCOfxv6bQVaM1JxjomoIrZoeP6bkYVUevvIKiBbCgxxQdAW2m6LDHVX-TSaOiQiZ9RMHkPHMM0xC6jy4wQFs14tjflfmo/s320/087.JPG" border="0" /></a>May has just arrived and springtime has come to Denmark- very beautiful and long awaited! In the meantime, I have been in a place beyond words, maybe a little submerged. </div><div></div><div>I find myself surfacing. </div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRKQCtrUxSZiiteoqmMqaAM6CYmtfvP_eCkkx4ng4l3tEDdEbSqUcL-OL1AO25uyir86ELZWTQ1kZr0dKvZgMt_e-IOQ_v3axX0RCVUA5AEKO8M_gpMZr8BFLZao2QWBBTGfx0b5WeZQs/s1600-h/082.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331598270533642450" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRKQCtrUxSZiiteoqmMqaAM6CYmtfvP_eCkkx4ng4l3tEDdEbSqUcL-OL1AO25uyir86ELZWTQ1kZr0dKvZgMt_e-IOQ_v3axX0RCVUA5AEKO8M_gpMZr8BFLZao2QWBBTGfx0b5WeZQs/s320/082.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /></div><br /><br /><br /><div><br /></div><div>After many (many!) days in the studio and hours of testing/experimenting- losing my way and finding it again- I have created some successful work here at Guldagergaard. I am most excited about the cyanotypes I have been printing on porcelain. These are some pieces from a series of bottles (of course bottles) I've been working on.</div><div></div><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331598957184864802" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2GYzGfLsHvOrNPDUp8PNT2YFMcFHXbRn7LF0injAUzoIVykoCfVLzGkjK6VhjzTWtlMFN8tSCZG-C5Luj4HoLXjLdyFJuiPLsUkHE_LwsMfbphtbS1FgXZh-ZxdfAZtia0CkcuQ_tYnc/s320/077.JPG" border="0" />I am looking forward to developing content and form later, but for now am very happy to get a large amount of technical stuff worked out!</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm1tfhpWsFL0aJYUoxrU0CHLonYqvrBlU2bQhshxT1N6zTnhUXwlxUMyLgLdd1X1vJEfxPJVxU0XL1a8vzYWN4WN5l0JSKQ3N6wNLYMmcB_ZHPXXQrIrPMAuEvaeaZIpz_wfPDdL-GX2o/s1600-h/070.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331596636570921010" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 301px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 201px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm1tfhpWsFL0aJYUoxrU0CHLonYqvrBlU2bQhshxT1N6zTnhUXwlxUMyLgLdd1X1vJEfxPJVxU0XL1a8vzYWN4WN5l0JSKQ3N6wNLYMmcB_ZHPXXQrIrPMAuEvaeaZIpz_wfPDdL-GX2o/s320/070.JPG" border="0" /></a></div><div>Along with the bottles, I've been making a series of "wall boxes"- kind of like clay canvases and definitely not vessels- using both porcelain and earthenware paperclay, working with different techniques to layer text and imagery. They are also small like the bottles, 5"x7" or so (remember, I will be attempting to take finished work back on the plane with me!)- but I think will be powerful when viewed in series/groupings. These examples are works in progress, subject to more/multiple "manipulations" and firings!<br /></div><div></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331597777558758914" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqWRWXnj31wmRLV23-G5Zm491YnZj_XVAXe_7WVwet3bGks5hGbrCl1jxoRb6XsX9-rxML2Kc2GyJowAJAZ11PdpLK9-VHUeZYScxdbpQeSlYB7imxaFlOrypjRhXrJnvLWTTEP2zNRRg/s320/083.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH6jmDBzjWHhNW6yZAazC4qCzdwKLmD34HOBM96OjQC6glJNBenKOXznFPwgTkhCIoLhq30NqAK8Ok08y3JX68Q7qpHsZCubhPqMJw3DpvUxPTlbfHRSazGnFk2v0K8BlVA9JszU_lfz0/s1600-h/086.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331597261489002994" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 291px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 216px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH6jmDBzjWHhNW6yZAazC4qCzdwKLmD34HOBM96OjQC6glJNBenKOXznFPwgTkhCIoLhq30NqAK8Ok08y3JX68Q7qpHsZCubhPqMJw3DpvUxPTlbfHRSazGnFk2v0K8BlVA9JszU_lfz0/s320/086.JPG" border="0" /></a></div>In my head- and in my notes- I know that this work is leading to the creation of large sheets of <em>translucent </em>porcelain which will be printed with both cyanotype and gum bichromate images. A series of wall work that takes advantage of the hard thin quality of the best porcelain. This won't happen here in Denmark because of time and logistics (yes, can you believe I could use more time?!)... but it will happen!</div><div><br /><br /></div><div></div><div>I have been experimenting with making a porcelain slip with bone ash- similar to 18th century bone china- which fires lower than the usual 1280'c of traditional porcealin recipes... another project in the apparently endless list of things to keep me busy and befuddled in the studio!<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizoFtci_54m_m6yJIu8GzHprBrtsCzl4I5ESrr44NtgFeRwpUZOB7MYkafSKCX8htPQNzK6ZWCswlAFH8LcXb5kLAr-7Yz7EEkNpVuaa4YTVVaMP1SXg0Jc_0nRlzuqk8OKMSWlZGEmVY/s1600-h/017.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331602239729425906" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizoFtci_54m_m6yJIu8GzHprBrtsCzl4I5ESrr44NtgFeRwpUZOB7MYkafSKCX8htPQNzK6ZWCswlAFH8LcXb5kLAr-7Yz7EEkNpVuaa4YTVVaMP1SXg0Jc_0nRlzuqk8OKMSWlZGEmVY/s320/017.JPG" border="0" /></a>Also progressing are my printing tests with gum bichromate.... here are some earlier test tiles using the emulsion alone (without pigment). Lacking additional colorant, the chrome (of the potassium dichromate) still creates a greenish/sepia image. </div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPfTvFpVvuJTVJokEL3NNm0C-2o8FU0kbZg4H3dXXYYIjWJZMsQK5Ykqa26H_HRP30smzg2oeTmCz49ic4zBwCLVF5GN4qkYy5LV78pfqyUFgFXLAZ7nF4h1zGbPGvlH9KsAxrvNZlNYA/s1600-h/020.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331602436618184450" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPfTvFpVvuJTVJokEL3NNm0C-2o8FU0kbZg4H3dXXYYIjWJZMsQK5Ykqa26H_HRP30smzg2oeTmCz49ic4zBwCLVF5GN4qkYy5LV78pfqyUFgFXLAZ7nF4h1zGbPGvlH9KsAxrvNZlNYA/s320/020.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div><div>Some weeks back I got seriously frustrated with trying to decipher this printing process, and took steps "backwards" so that I could move forward: at first eliminating pigment from the mix (so I could learn more about how the emulsion functions on its own) and then working on paper, and different "sizing" methods for the paper, (mixes of gelatin, gum arabic, glue and other random things, - while wishing I could get my hands on a chemical like glyoxal here in denmark)! I would later learn that bisque-fired clay needs some kind of base coat to help the emulsion "stick". And I have since figured out how to get gum prints to work using ceramic pigment on <em>glazed </em>ware. Yippee!!!!!! </div><div><br /></div><div>Wow. I will have daunted you with all these technical notes.</div><div>So I leave you with some of the beauty that I have found in this quiet corner of the world....<br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYscokcHJki2JKRgv_2Oug4797BGOeUTeO142OEuo4vFxWgeEvXl_3mTmFFBT2NToIlTMiZ_iC0f4TTKP40_Nus96qsFP4hx95ji3uGYVuwgxTECxG9ZZySwW-0OxRT0dzZ4_9wON_JxY/s1600-h/015.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331608140094325154" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYscokcHJki2JKRgv_2Oug4797BGOeUTeO142OEuo4vFxWgeEvXl_3mTmFFBT2NToIlTMiZ_iC0f4TTKP40_Nus96qsFP4hx95ji3uGYVuwgxTECxG9ZZySwW-0OxRT0dzZ4_9wON_JxY/s320/015.JPG" border="0" /></a></div><div><br /><br />It <em>is</em> really really placid/pleasant/pastoral (provincial?) here in Skaelskor. So, I am a little scared to return to the din of life in the US. </div><div>What if I have forgotten how to be hectic?<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH6jmDBzjWHhNW6yZAazC4qCzdwKLmD34HOBM96OjQC6glJNBenKOXznFPwgTkhCIoLhq30NqAK8Ok08y3JX68Q7qpHsZCubhPqMJw3DpvUxPTlbfHRSazGnFk2v0K8BlVA9JszU_lfz0/s1600-h/086.JPG"></a></div><div><br />very cute thatched roofs on some of the cottages by the shore...<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331611093155992034" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi64fTwYAgJasUkgi5KV3Dy1TVBBTgKKYpdtGwP2BKlfPt-N66nZyPSus1phIQaF__IrbWNLV6yVlgvY4yf66Wb-LZJ30EhyV6_yXv2qe0tdzyn6WxSGTrW6vVpJhGeK-fRd1y6xxrUfA8/s320/005.JPG" border="0" /><br /></div><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331609846512737442" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX9aMpJ4rXom49zVgF0kN_s9yzhvFa1ejgnsOzukvF4j0x5wA9v21R0P21oelv9e76k0pKnpq-qSj2vPTUtxkO_e6o9CTnoDQKsvwDlSfeH8B9231WTQLQd_SYgVRd1u8XmgAb4Qd9Q6k/s320/035.JPG" border="0" />A pair of swans I'd been seeing every evening at dusk on the beach... same time same place every day! I have heard they mate for life, is that true?<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7Fiqj4NxmQ8W4Y5x-I5xR-7degoQDJaHhgnOa_ISPXLL_zdOwyvFYxw7tuVZvEvlof7AxSRG3p7fBBmwhBjkVLUlN1rPpSDS6iQDnvDneKI6kEtO-4vMTLRCh_45EXpprSyA5RYdhkqM/s1600-h/030.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331612169088892290" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7Fiqj4NxmQ8W4Y5x-I5xR-7degoQDJaHhgnOa_ISPXLL_zdOwyvFYxw7tuVZvEvlof7AxSRG3p7fBBmwhBjkVLUlN1rPpSDS6iQDnvDneKI6kEtO-4vMTLRCh_45EXpprSyA5RYdhkqM/s320/030.JPG" border="0" /></a></div><div><em>Glaenas Strand</em>, on an island not far from here...<br /><br /><br /><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYscokcHJki2JKRgv_2Oug4797BGOeUTeO142OEuo4vFxWgeEvXl_3mTmFFBT2NToIlTMiZ_iC0f4TTKP40_Nus96qsFP4hx95ji3uGYVuwgxTECxG9ZZySwW-0OxRT0dzZ4_9wON_JxY/s1600-h/015.JPG"></a></div></div>Rebecca Barfoothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00084787714415747688noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7296425706511972291.post-9844316085560697322009-03-26T03:29:00.000-07:002009-03-26T05:00:35.560-07:00A month and Copenhagen<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfcJGeOG9rRbJHKcbAu3s2gE1YLhlZ_4Yz6ZMjnDUqqYffp0ErRa6QAmJgyDoYzATH02mHeixiindmiQCfQLnIKARC5dgtDDY4vdi7-cno5VoD-slZpD8QkLwKbxyRl5ipzMW2DpieIaA/s1600-h/042.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5317462595020823858" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfcJGeOG9rRbJHKcbAu3s2gE1YLhlZ_4Yz6ZMjnDUqqYffp0ErRa6QAmJgyDoYzATH02mHeixiindmiQCfQLnIKARC5dgtDDY4vdi7-cno5VoD-slZpD8QkLwKbxyRl5ipzMW2DpieIaA/s200/042.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div><br /><div><br /><br /><div><br /><div><br /><div><br /><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBpiXnvmTko49n59-hfo2w_EFC0JmNVxCGum2TIbO152yZfQWYQkR5wEWH9UpiuY3GfyVTXc3d0-cxEz4khFEvOUOEJtRuqihPhCX4bcoif_yBoHWa8AnmIL5DAGimH1Np9jkvzopmQTg/s1600-h/014.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5317442914199179346" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBpiXnvmTko49n59-hfo2w_EFC0JmNVxCGum2TIbO152yZfQWYQkR5wEWH9UpiuY3GfyVTXc3d0-cxEz4khFEvOUOEJtRuqihPhCX4bcoif_yBoHWa8AnmIL5DAGimH1Np9jkvzopmQTg/s200/014.JPG" border="0" /></a>Well... where have I been?<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br />Besides escaping for my end of the day bike rides, I've been squinting impatiently over inconclusive evidence in the studio! (Some blustery yet clear days here have been letting me catch a rare bit of color over the sea at dusk.)</div><div><br /><br /></div><div></div><div><br /><br /></div><div></div><div><br /><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia-0lYRPpC42WQ4njFurF7Jckmj0LnWmsuo8kxkJIgTdi2us4UyBb77XHul8EnX6-ds6FBtPJFlTEy6Y7828ZJtTT-i5B842Y7xZQHs9W6HE5o9tlBG-PZIXYO6WCmpcRFa3d-n54ou5g/s1600-h/050.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5317447690928821410" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 158px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia-0lYRPpC42WQ4njFurF7Jckmj0LnWmsuo8kxkJIgTdi2us4UyBb77XHul8EnX6-ds6FBtPJFlTEy6Y7828ZJtTT-i5B842Y7xZQHs9W6HE5o9tlBG-PZIXYO6WCmpcRFa3d-n54ou5g/s200/050.JPG" border="0" /></a></div><div><br /><br /></div><div>I'm still trying to decipher the mysterious process of printing with gum bichromate. I have had some successful tests, but the results seem ephemeral... hard to repeat and I am still working. So many variables!... how strong to make the potassium dichromate solution, proportion of gum arabic to dichromate, length of exposure on the light table, quality of negative, better results on porcelain or earthenware?, fired to what temperature? how long to develop image in water bath, how hot to fire, how long.... EEK!!! </div><div><br /><br /></div><div>I finally threw some small bottles the other night, working on the wheel. I was vexed by my printing project and needing to do something easy!!! (The bottles are destined to become small "canvases"- I've altered them so they are square/flat-sided... to facilitate printing with cyanotype on each side after they are bisque fired.)<br /><br />And then: I took off to Copenhagen on Saturday, realizing I needed to clear my head after 30 days in the studio. Caught a ride with UK ceramist Paul Scott, the author of <strong>Ceramics and Print </strong>(ironically, I have been using a tattered photocopy of his book for reference and "how to" info... for 2 years!). He was on his way to Sweden, I needed an escape and voila!- a ride and some good conversation/"shop talk" to boot. </div><div><br /><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha3_eh8qJHmAjnfH2RzKDWRacPecHNysnfBeIe_Zz8ttXIraE-_cI4GTTbAzZHR5jiYOMsJZSP_nUDzh7-fopPzXngrBcCHXEPNlM-m0HMmDU6zdZulQwsamWMzAdMuIiq8o7d7IJ475M/s1600-h/015.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5317451510392985010" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha3_eh8qJHmAjnfH2RzKDWRacPecHNysnfBeIe_Zz8ttXIraE-_cI4GTTbAzZHR5jiYOMsJZSP_nUDzh7-fopPzXngrBcCHXEPNlM-m0HMmDU6zdZulQwsamWMzAdMuIiq8o7d7IJ475M/s200/015.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /></div><div><br /><br /></div><div>My mission was to visit the Statens Museum for <em>Kunst</em> (Art), in central Copenhagen.... a city that despite it's 1.5 million inhabitants is surprisingly tame, manageable- and perhaps even quiet? Very pedestrian and cylclist friendly. (Wish I'd taken a pic of the bike lanes there, which are as wide as curb-side vehicle parking!)</div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic-jSJZVmKngb2970u75aGKFZitQP_gQMaugdO3ujc-DOVIRQqslJBrnG66_z1ykScqiL68cb_4hM8AyWL-TbHoIk8NSKGwLm2pUEounyS3aev3XfIkLtpGBXppSNXZcDrvhMm9UGAOg0/s1600-h/043.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5317464033813721714" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 129px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic-jSJZVmKngb2970u75aGKFZitQP_gQMaugdO3ujc-DOVIRQqslJBrnG66_z1ykScqiL68cb_4hM8AyWL-TbHoIk8NSKGwLm2pUEounyS3aev3XfIkLtpGBXppSNXZcDrvhMm9UGAOg0/s200/043.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /></div><div><br />(Outside central station, where I would later depart via train for Skaelskor.)<br /><br /></div><div> </div><div> </div><div><br /> </div></div><div><div><br /></div><div>I spent my time browsing the permanent collection, mostly on the second floor with both contemporary works and historical works dating from 1300-1800. The painter in me was delighted by this opportunity, and it was so refreshing to get away from my own work, the myopic world of my light table, dark room, kilns and chemicals.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk0yN2OhWQ56l726Pay3X1UUMPfR-LgU_VdwSD8xzRVTgn2QDLMSB6s9gFO96FkX33NOdJMokza_3C1he0pFkiDB9ysFL2aPTEwjjrbJEM0neBhCBaaIRIeyf_snR9ui6xoQGzpG-Q6e8/s1600-h/026.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5317457927294545890" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk0yN2OhWQ56l726Pay3X1UUMPfR-LgU_VdwSD8xzRVTgn2QDLMSB6s9gFO96FkX33NOdJMokza_3C1he0pFkiDB9ysFL2aPTEwjjrbJEM0neBhCBaaIRIeyf_snR9ui6xoQGzpG-Q6e8/s200/026.JPG" border="0" /></a> </div><div><br /><br /></div><div>I thought about so many things that afternoon at the museum.... why art calls us, moves us, calms and shocks us- and also seems so necessary. Wandering around this city far from home, again the streets and shops lit and labeled in a language I don't comprehend, the sound of inscrutible dialogue all around me: <em>I don't understand. </em></div><div><br /><br /></div><div></div><div><br /><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFyhu-_z7L4wCduejje1M1ox8aJMcuok9ea58y2monpZ3CrKT_sNrugFWtfJpSe7_jSX1PTWybwWg_o6jt17_VdeBxPK5xCYMdfbTZMmRCdCez3Ah4dEWMbdpUoegLHjfTPc0my0bnpzA/s1600-h/021.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5317457444133326258" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFyhu-_z7L4wCduejje1M1ox8aJMcuok9ea58y2monpZ3CrKT_sNrugFWtfJpSe7_jSX1PTWybwWg_o6jt17_VdeBxPK5xCYMdfbTZMmRCdCez3Ah4dEWMbdpUoegLHjfTPc0my0bnpzA/s200/021.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5317458244457489826" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtu_2Sydz3gyRUqBAfRc7qAEWlkahewk9w_HKMshiA93X0bL04_nySkjBNzVsBWMC8c1ZkH_r9kvxIv_FdoFFb1BhCkWq-O_eDc72TX6Kpyk4cAqXv0n9gI1lvTxpmvtgnN0PwajM9CRc/s200/038.JPG" border="0" /><br /><br />The museum was what I needed that day.</div><div>The universal language of art. <em>I understand.</em><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5317457702528793170" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil2RQwyVANQyiJ9skzjQZwJuXa3kQi6dtjvz2Q-KAeWBP8FlVThmA-HbYGjLQkcPT9MdvSTHIAHwcE1csJJsj2ObUbShhtquzcf1uHMpT-WB_H47xt0F9I0kx1p9wdNynOBTC_iCmWyu4/s200/034.JPG" border="0" /></div><div><br /><br /></div><div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Rebecca Barfoothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00084787714415747688noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7296425706511972291.post-82634836347377048452009-03-16T02:45:00.001-07:002009-03-16T03:41:55.402-07:00gum bichromate weekend<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqiLhItxV6wEsqcxtQu_451DGDDZzzy6KqTH-Z0Xx6pVsRseySL76_pIZ1wYvUaQNW4qe7GHhy5wnxpN8dHixLZd3N_2puuyq5qKdoYbkf5vXtVWV4_NGfj6FPSIE6SoGg10w-a8hvjVQ/s1600-h/013.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313730758440606194" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 185px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqiLhItxV6wEsqcxtQu_451DGDDZzzy6KqTH-Z0Xx6pVsRseySL76_pIZ1wYvUaQNW4qe7GHhy5wnxpN8dHixLZd3N_2puuyq5qKdoYbkf5vXtVWV4_NGfj6FPSIE6SoGg10w-a8hvjVQ/s200/013.JPG" border="0" /></a>It's Monday morning after a quiet weekend in the studio....<br /><div><div><div><div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div>The cleaning crew is here- an industrious and efficient danish woman- getting after it with the vacuum. Meaning I better get up. It's 8am.</div><br /><br /><br /><div>I spent the last two days (nights?) with my brow furrowed, hunched and squinting over my latest project: a foray into the gum bichromate process, the other "vintage" contact printing technique which I hope to adapt to fired porcelain. (At this point, a rudimentary understanding of alchemy would be fine.)</div><br /><br /><div>I should begin by coming to understand the quirks of printing images with gum arabic and potassium dichromate <em>on paper</em>.... instead I have jumped headlong into my testing on both bisqued and glazed ceramic test tiles. Wow, there are so many variables to this process, not to mention it's toxicity- be careful and have patience!! In the end, I am interested in creating work with both visual and conceptual depth, so having multiple "tools" to create layered imagery and text at every stage of the firing process is my goal. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>I have to mention that I have an excellent and indispensible companion in my printing adventures: <strong>The Book of Alternative Printing Processes</strong> <strong>by Christopher James, </strong>who is somewhat of a guru I think in the world of alt. photo process (fromer harvard proff, and now teaches alt photo workshops internationally). It is a hybird textbook/"bible"/gallery sprinkled with interesting stories from the history of photography. Wow. A great read all by itself, very comprehensive. Yes, I'm gushing- it's that good (and my only help right now).<br /><br /></div><br /><br /><div>In con<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo7IsccyUSppjOKZzpnsz6vj5GoXZ1iDX9ljbl88TcHvgFP8JGdW8COHKY_SIJ2C0CmhZPH5o-vvowzaBF2QzOOYvJQR-oCxFkj_xHWdqKP46l5cj4EBmck7CFtsxvKrrLeYSBn9lYTEU/s1600-h/010.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313725093459199202" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo7IsccyUSppjOKZzpnsz6vj5GoXZ1iDX9ljbl88TcHvgFP8JGdW8COHKY_SIJ2C0CmhZPH5o-vvowzaBF2QzOOYvJQR-oCxFkj_xHWdqKP46l5cj4EBmck7CFtsxvKrrLeYSBn9lYTEU/s200/010.JPG" border="0" /></a>trast to the gum bichromate process, cyanotype is a piece of cake!! Last weeks firing produced interesting results. At right is a test piece fired <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr8A7PznZvQ6zNR9DaQeHutF1wfsyRrGjmAPEeIk5icvYBYIEo47f6FCEKRShwesAf55peEmg7WX5rTtNsg989oP5DAQThbS6aRolEF_AwOSRyHfNm6cqIlURyCV-kKGKg5N2VmnPg4So/s1600-h/004.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313724883427272850" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 138px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr8A7PznZvQ6zNR9DaQeHutF1wfsyRrGjmAPEeIk5icvYBYIEo47f6FCEKRShwesAf55peEmg7WX5rTtNsg989oP5DAQThbS6aRolEF_AwOSRyHfNm6cqIlURyCV-kKGKg5N2VmnPg4So/s200/004.JPG" border="0" /></a>to relatively low temperature. I do like this rich sienna/orange! (At temps above 2000 degrees F, the cyanotype image burns out completely.) Yes, I lose that lovely prussian blue through firing- and this is the hallmark of cyanotype!- but for now this is the only way I know to create a lasting image on clay with this printing process. At left, more fun with c.type (unfired).</div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div>Here is the part of my studio where much furrowing of the brow takes place, and many notes are made..... as well as occasional progress!<br /><br /></div><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313725813360008738" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 179px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3MyOfHSAJ0SgsWAsxPge5UTQAwFl8yWIpUKsLFa4_m5TWdNHtuhOWrKPntKidlIio9xT6SoE0Q4Cy6w0U9gUinQ6rC50UyiJqdZaOZ-c2dHNfPHg_dX83qrac6QPBR8aI9wvWnqEYrrI/s200/009.JPG" border="0" /></div></div></div></div><br /><p></p><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitP9xwcyuunydPOG4_zuFvS7M2yroQDGTX1cgx3Ip_Nep385vWqLcmGDBv0SDFb308WjQnl0woWm1ijhJVsvjSXGAHuDihPovVS6gZKjNPbYcYGAK_Nfd1cMkLMcJdxDkLkDv0FIekmE4/s1600-h/006.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313733461674985634" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 144px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitP9xwcyuunydPOG4_zuFvS7M2yroQDGTX1cgx3Ip_Nep385vWqLcmGDBv0SDFb308WjQnl0woWm1ijhJVsvjSXGAHuDihPovVS6gZKjNPbYcYGAK_Nfd1cMkLMcJdxDkLkDv0FIekmE4/s200/006.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><p>Ok, a cultural note.... there is some soft-core "guerilla" political activity here in the sleepy hollow of Skaelskor... here is a cheap paper glue-up that I found on a shop window <em>across from the church!! </em>I definitely had to look twice at this. It's in english for one. And it's just so... <em>crude. </em>Go figure. I am still trying to wrap my mind around the, uh.... artistic vision. </p></div></div>Rebecca Barfoothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00084787714415747688noreply@blogger.com0