 Cornucopia in the Compost, 1 By ERSwett The cornucopia came home with us after Thanksgiving in CT. It sat on the windowsill.  Cornucopia in the Compost, 2 By ERSwett The flowers started to wilt and I noticed the texture of the drying petals and the play of light from different angles.  Cornucopia in the Compost, 3 By ERSwett And the roses captured my attention.  Cornucopia in the Compost, 4 By ERSwett And kept my attention even when tossed into the compost pile.  Cornucopia in the Compost, 5 By ERSwett It's strange. I've actually never really liked roses. They're hard to grow and their thorns hurt. It has always struck me as odd that a flower that can cause pain would be one so many use to express love. Though maybe that's the point. Love hurts. Sometimes.  Cornucopia in the Compost, 6 By ERSwett On this particular day in the compost pile, though, I fell in love with the roses. They seduced me and inspired me to hang out with them, despite cold fingers & a runny nose.  Cornucopia in the Compost, 7 By ERSwett I know they must have traveled far to arrive fresh in Connecticut in late November. Perhaps it is out of respect for their journey that I can't take my eyes off them - even when things get a bit stirred up...  Cornucopia in the Compost, 8 By ERSwett ...and more compost arrives & gets mixed & mingled with the coffee and the discarded cornucopia.  Cornucopia in the Compost, 9 By ERSwett They are unstoppable, these roses, determined to not get left behind or forgotten. They refuse to be outdone by the dryer lint, kale, or banana peels. They persist.  Cornucopia in the Compost, 10 By ERSwett Maybe that's why love and roses go together. If we pay attention, it's not the rose at first glance, it's the rose that still captivates as it evolves, edges drying and petals falling off. For me, that's what love is...  Cornucopia in the Compost, 11 By ERSwett Love for my family. Love for my friends. Love for the earth that sustains us. Even when tested and tossed around a bit, real love persists, captivates, and has the power to transform all those paying attention to it.  Cornucopia in the Compost, 12 By ERSwett
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 Weekly Compost Bucket During my show, people asked if my studio smelled and they wondered how I 'staged' my work.  Handmade Three-Bin Composter (Bin & Photograph by ERSwett) Since my 'stage' is a large three bin composting system behind our garage, and my studio is on the opposite end of the house, in the basement, with only a computer and other art supplies, it turns out that neither one actually smells at all (or at least, not of rotting food).
And I don't really 'set up' my Compost Compositions either. I dump food and other scraps into that plastic white bucket that I purchased from K-mart a decade ago. When it gets full, which is at least once a week, I carry the 10 pounds of waste out to our 'active' compost bin. There, I dump a bucket's worth of stuff onto whatever was there before.  A 'Compost Compositions' in process. Then I stir it so that it all gets mixed and mingled. As you can see, the bins are square, but the camera creates a rectangular image.  Compost Composition #6,573 or some such number... by ERSwett I then crop my image to create 'Compost Compositions' that feel as close to the 'real deal' as I can get.  5 Gallon Buckets full of Compost. There are additional players in this drama, however. I source most of my raw material from Umpleby's Cafe & Bakery in Hanover, NH, where each week I collect five gallon buckets full of coffee and other food scraps.  Handmade Three-Bin Composter and photo by ERSwett The stage is set for new dramas to unfold. Every time it's a mystery, as the contents and light shift with each season.  This morning's compost from Umpleby's Cafe & Bakery This morning, the buckets contained a wonderful mix of coffee, fresh lemons, celery and some old lettuce.  Coffee steaming... I love how the fresh and still warm coffee grinds, generate steam. I also love how I don't actually know what was in each bucket until I stir the heaped mass of coffee and vegetable scraps...  Mixed salad, sandwiches and omelettes perhaps? ...and uncover a compellingly speckled moldy tomato.  It's all very democratic - - everything gets mixed and mingled together. There is no hierarchy in a compost bin. I doubt any of these will become official 'Compost Compositions' as the lighting wasn't quite right today. Stay tuned for more about that in a later post.  Love contrasts between lights and darks As you
can see, this 'behind the scenes' view of my compost process is not really behind anything other than our garage. It's all out there. In the winter, red squirrels come to feast; In the summer bees and other bugs hover. For years I've referred to my work as the 'real deal.' It may be contained & framed but, like me, what you see is what you get.. (most of the time).  It seems absurd, really, that a gal has to take care of things at home even when there are so many cool things happening, at, say, her first solo show.  But autumn does come to an end, and snow does appear and the temperatures do start to fall, so one does have to take care of things.  It's funny, though, how the list evolves over time. Just as one thing is finally crossed off, another activity or two or three gets added on, like mulch on the garden and those perennials that keep coming back...  I love, though, how I save my favorite activity for last - - shredding leaves to use in the compost in the spring when things are wet and need a boost of dry carbon. It's a thing for me.  Calvin joins in the fun, begging me to throw him sticks while I methodically mow the leaves in the still, dry garage. Spread them out, consolidate, spread again. Back and forth I help break them down so they can more efficiently integrate with all that nitrogen in the melting, early spring compost.  It hit me, though, as the pile got smaller, that this is another one of those routines I do all the time that is, on the one hand, just another item on the endless list, but on the other hand, is an integral part of a bigger climate action narrative, a story in which I find joy in routines that feel good unto themselves but are also part of a larger creative vision.  Like how I can share photographs of a previous year's leaves on the wall of a gallery and by doing so inspire others to think differently about leaves, carbon and our material world.  Mixed Carbon, 2019 30" x 30" Photograph on Paper (5th on the left) Photo by ERSwett For me,
climate action and creativity converge to inspire joy and new ways of being - - all the time.  Selfie before people arrive. Pinch me. Is it true? Is 5 year's worth of work really assembled in a real art gallery for others to see?  The Opening, October 11. Photograph by Shiela C. Swett It must be, because people showed up to celebrate the launch, my 'coming' out...  Artifacts from Waste & Our Material World Front Porch Conversation, Oct. 22. And people gathered again this past Tuesday for a conversation about Waste & Our Material World with Marc Morgan, Director of the Lebanon, NH Solid Waste Facility. I love how what began as an isolated exploration of my backyard compost has connected me to so many cool people.  Talking with Charles Umpleby at the Opening. Photograph by Shiela C. Swett Like the Umpleby's, who run Umpleby's Cafe & Bakery in Hanover, NH - - I get all my coffee grinds and other large masses of cool vegetables from them.  Are these degrees real? Photograph by Shiela C. Swett Or all those strangers I meet at various events who wonder at my composted degrees and share their own stories about celebrating the past while also re-imagining the future.  The Colors of Muscles. Photograph by Shiela C. Swett It's magical when a vision becomes reality - - when showing up to something seemingly mundane, like my compost bin, could inspire not just me, but also all those who come in contact with this work. Who knew?  8 x 8 Cash & Carry Compost Compositions. Please come
share the joy and experience the wonder that is our waste at my artist's talk next Friday, November 1. It will be at AVA Gallery at 5pm. Oh, and it's also my birthday and I was thinking how great it would be to share it with others who care about all this stuff. See you then and there!  Trainwork USA, 1987 By Evelyn R. Swett What happens when you clean out your studio and come upon a project that is more than 30 years old?  By the tracks, 1987 By Evelyn R. Swett There are black and white prints in carefully labeled files,  Scrapbook images are so different from reality outside, 1987 by Evelyn R. Swett two scrapbooks with detailed annotations,  32 year old slides in the artist's studio, 2019 by Evelyn R. Swett and two binders full of color slides.  Lovers on a summer adventure, 1987 by Evelyn R. Swett More importantly, what happens when that project contains raw material that relates directly to one of the hottest topics in Washington DC?  Waiting in Kansas City, 1987 by Evelyn R. Swett No, I'm not talking about the impact or reality of an aging population or racism in our country.  Somewhere America, 1987 by Evelyn R. Swett I'm talking about The Green New Deal and all the controversy it is inspiring.  The map. Two months, 14 cities. Lots of photographs. It turns out, that in 1987, at the age of 21, I traveled around the United States on Amtrak, stayed with alumni from my college in twelve different cities, and researched murals painted during the Great Depression in Post Offices and other public buildings.  Slides, Farmersville, TX, 1987 by Evelyn R. Swett The highlight was visiting the small town of Farmersville, Texas, photographing the mural in the post office and then, a few days later, meeting the artist, Jerry Bywaters, who created that work.  Scrapbook page. Jerry Bywaters & sketches from a New Deal Art Project, 1987 by Evelyn R. Swett The New Deal is about as good as it gets when it comes to the convergence of creativity and climate action.  All Aboard Amtrak - Somewhere America, 1987 by Evelyn R. Swett FDR's programs were comprehensive, universal and profoundly innovative. They impacted every aspect of our country's infrastructure and re-inspired hope for millions in the dream that once was once America.  Boyscouts, middle of the night in Kansas City, MO, 1987 by Evelyn R. Swett Only by getting out of the world I knew, was I able to see the great promise of FDR's vision. At the same time, I witnessed the reality that fifty years later, that promise remained elusive for many,  Street corner murals, somewhere America, 1987 by Evelyn R. Swett So here I am. It's 8:30 on a Saturday night. Calvin, the dog, is asleep at my feet and I am in heaven, remembering a very long Saturday night in the summer of 1987.  The waiting room, 1987 by Evelyn R. Swett I was changing trains in Kansas City. The Southwest Chief was six hours late. There were no cell phones or laptop computers, so we got to know each other in that pre-digital waiting-room kind of way. We were more concerned for the well-being of those involved in the accident on the track, than we were with being late.  Amtrak Stationmaster, 1987 by Evelyn R. Swett Amtrak employees provided hats for the kids. I got out my camera and made friends. These places, people and works of public art I was so inspired by thirty-two years ago are why I care so much.  Gorgeous Compost, 8 Black & White, by Evelyn R. Swett When I say that compost is like America, I mean it. We are nothing without our diversity, perseverance, and patience. We are also nothing without our audacity. What the hell? Why not give it a try? A Green New Deal might be just be what we need.  Evelyn R. Swett, 1987 What happens when I discover a project from decades ago and my husband is out of town and I'm feeling reflective? A lot, I guess. To learn more, check out The Living New Deal Project, which documents and celebrates New Deal
Public Art projects and also provides a helpful connection to the Green New Deal.  "Ansel Adams in Our Time" at The Boston Museum of Fine Arts 2019 - Copyright © 2019, Evelyn R Swett Photography Last week I saw "Ansel Adams in Our Time," an exhibit at The Boston Museum of Fine Arts. It was totally cool.  Ansel Adams "Mexican Boy, 1948" Detail, Copyright © 2019, Evelyn R Swett Photography It is clear that Adams witnessed and understood a whole lot more about the human condition than his reverent landscapes had ever revealed to me on their own.  Ansel Adams "Ferns" Detail, Copyright © 2019, Evelyn R Swett Photography Check out this intimate portrait of a Mexican boy, this stunning close-up of a fern, and this panoramic view of human development.  Ansel Adams, "Freeway Interchange, LA, 1967" Copyright © 2019, Evelyn R Swett Photography It gave me the chills. Adams understood our reciprocal relationship with the natural world and the fragility of our co- dependence.  Alberto Morell, "Tent-Camera Image on Ground, View of Mount Moran" 2011, Detail © 2019, Evelyn R Swett Photography There I was, reflected in the glass, paying attention to these imaginative re-imagings of Ansel Adams's world. In Abelardo Morell's exploration of the microcosmos and the macrocosmos I saw the tenuous balance between individual rights and collective responsibility necessary in any democracy.  Mitch Epstein, "Altamont Pass Wind Farm, CA" 2007, Detail Copyright © 2019, Evelyn R Swett Photography And I laughed when I saw myself in Mitch Epstein's "Altamont Pass Wind Farm." So funny how we play games with each other, with nature and with ourselves.  Lucas Foglia, "Beach Restoration after El Nino Waves, 2016" Detail Copyright © 2019, Evelyn R Swett Photography And, I loved Luis Faglio's reflection about beach restoration, how it celebrates the "hope and the irony that we are able to move sand."  Laura McPhee "Midsummer, 2008" Detail, Copyright © 2019, Evelyn R Swett Photography Strange, to feel at home in a large, meandering exhibit in an even larger museum, but the message of these works was close to home. Yes, we can move sand. Yes, lupine does grow after a fire.Yes, we have the power to renew not just ourselves, but the planet as well. Yes. |
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**Let's ReFrame is a weekly newsletter that hopefully inspires joy & transformation.
It will include links to recent blog posts, updates about my work, and when relevant, inspirational action prompts
for you to explore your creativity and passion for the world you love.
It will include links to recent blog posts, updates about my work, and when relevant, inspirational action prompts
for you to explore your creativity and passion for the world you love.