Finding inspiration in isolation South Dakota artists reflect on creativity during a pandemic

In this issue of Arts Alive, we share voices of South Dakota artists talking about the myriad ways they have coped, created and collaborated during the months of sheltering in place, observing social distancing and weathering the storm of COVID-19 impacts. Artists from across the state, representing a wide range of ages, disciplines and backgrounds, universally speak of the importance of the arts during this crisis.

Each of us has a story to tell of meeting the challenges of the past months. Within the limited space of this issue, we have tried to present individual artists’ voices to remind us all that the arts—and the creative work of artists among us—will be one of the legacies of this historic period in all our lives.

Christine Stewart

Christine Stewart-Nuñez is South Dakota’s Poet Laureate and an instructor at South Dakota State University.

When the pandemic began to ripple across South Dakota, I was in Rapid City spending a week at the Dahl Arts Center as a poet-in-residence. I gave a talk and led a workshop about writing from art, and I spent hours observing the exhibits and learning about the permanent collection from director and curator Denise DuBroy. I left a day early, however, as people began to discuss school closures and social distancing.

Like many others, my life changed mid-March. I began to teach my classes at SDSU remotely and ensured that my preschooler and 8th grader stayed safe, fed and relatively engaged with their own learning. For several days, I gave up my writing time to focus on this new schedule, and I even gave myself permission to put my writing on hiatus for the rest of the semester if working creatively caused me too much stress. If I did write, I expected to work on the poetry I’d started at the Dahl.

Instead, I found myself waking up at 5:00 each morning eager to write before the rest of my household woke up. And I followed the energy in my practice. So often, profound challenges to our lives, and even changes in our routines, drain the time and emotional reserves we use for creating. I gave myself permission to follow the energy—to work on whatever aspect of my writing practice compelled me the most. At the beginning of the pandemic, that meant revising a memoir manuscript. Figuring out what needed to change and how to go about making those revisions stimulated me intellectually. Using that time to write gave me the emotional grounding I needed to focus on my family’s and students’ needs throughout the rest of the day.

Whether following the energy of the practice means reading literature by writers I admire, sketching out ideas for a new project, discussing revision suggestions with another writer or actually writing, in difficult times keeping my finger on the pulse of creativity has helped me re-engage more fully when the stress, chaos or pressure has subsided. It also discourages me from judging my productivity and comparing myself to others—both of which dampen the creative process. And flexibility is key. As spring has turned to summer, I’m following the energy of new work and folding more poetry drafting into my writing sessions. Wherever this pandemic takes us, I hope my practice will be a tool to help me get through it.

Keith BraveHeart

Keith BraveHeart is an Oglala Lakota visual artist and educator.

For me, this whole time has heightened and amplified my understanding of the values that have brought me to making art. As artists, our strength is our spirituality, something that makes us think, feel and understand our place in the world. Ask an artist “why do you do art?” and the answer will reflect something that comes from the heart and propels each one.

That’s why, right now, it’s important for others to activate their voices in support of artists and the arts. We know that artists are suffering in this pandemic, as things have shifted and platforms and outlets are no longer there. Artists who depend on those markets are hurting. It’s hard to be inspired under those conditions.

“Oyate Kin, Defenders,” 2020, by Keith BraveHeart.

Our arts organizations are critical at this time. They’ve really picked it up and moved to make a difference for South Dakota artists. Artists’ voices are passionate, and others more articulate need to reach out to those artists and help clarify the resources available to keep them creating.

Everyone can provide moral support, commission art and actively listen to the voices of artists. That connection can energize our creativity—and that’s so important now. Artists can see and articulate the newrealities of times like these. We will discover what the legacy of all this is in our art.

Becky Grismer

Becky Grismer resides in Spearfish, working as a sculptor and in a variety of other media.

Throughout the pandemic, while we’ve been stuck at home, many of us have gained a new appreciation for our teachers, the people who provide food to nourish our bodies and many other individuals who play a huge role in our daily lives.

I’ve been thinking a lot about what an important role the arts are playing and will continue to play during this time in history. We now all have the shared experience of being isolated in our homes, only going out for food or medical appointments. Because of that common experience, we can all relate to what it would have been like in quarantine without the arts: empty walls, no music or movies, no instruments, no children’s books, poetry or novels, no drawing or coloring with your kids, no cartoons, crafts or photographs, no video games or television shows—all of these things are created by artists and people working in the arts. We need food and medicine to keep our physical bodies alive, but how depleted would we be without the arts feeding our spirits and minds?

Having art hanging on my walls has helped me. Everything has been made by another person’s hands and has made me feel connected to other people when I can’t physically be with them. Around every corner is a reminder of a conversation I’ve had, places I’ve gone, my friends and family, concerts I’ve attended and things that I simply find beautiful. It has given me glimmers of hope and reminds me of the good things in the world.

This pandemic has shone a light on our values, injustices and flaws in our social systems, and has been a catalyst for movement and proposed change. What do we value, whose job is important, what matters, who matters? There are a lot of voices that urgently need to be heard right now, and one of the primary roles of the arts is to express important ideas in new and interesting ways. This time in our lives isn’t something we will easily forget, and the arts are getting us through it whether we realize it or not. I hope people of all ages and abilities are painting, writing poetry, making music—creating. It’s important to make whatever you feel like making right now, what your experience is and what stands out to you as being important. Whether it is about a specific issue or not, you are serving as a reflection of the human experience in this historic point in time.

Mark Zimmerman

Mark Zimmerman, Deadwood, has been a South Dakota Arts Council roster artist since 1998.

Corvidae – the family of jays, crows, and their allies. Corvid – a series of ink transfer drawings with and without watercolor.

I am an artist. I don’t know what else to do. Maybe I’ve always made art because I’m afraid, but I don’t think so.

I am afraid now, afraid of losing loved ones, great ones, and afraid to die alone without the touch of my lover’s hand and her softly whispered words in my ear.

I am afraid to hear the husky hoot of the great horned owl one last time. I am afraid to hear the frantic beeping of the saw-whet owl, the thrilling song of the meadowlark, the soft twittering of the mountain bluebird, and the cheery notes of the chickadee one last time.

“Corvid 37 - Fallen,” by Mark Zimmerman.

I am afraid to see the beaked hazel and pasque bloom in early spring, to see the wild rose and black-eyed Susan flower in the summer heat, and afraid to see the leaves turn to flame and the last harebell blossom hang on into autumn.

I am afraid to see one last radiant sunrise lift behind Easter Rock, and to watch the wisps of clouds hanging over the valley turn from gold, to orange, to pink at the sinking of the sun behind Valentine Ridge.

I am afraid to lose so much beauty. I don’t know what else to do. I am an artist.

Ariadne Albright

Ariadne Albright is the Arts Program Coordinator for Sanford Vermillion Medical Center and a South Dakota Arts Council Artists In Schools & Communities roster artist.

Like others, there have been great challenges and blessings in these reordering of our days. I continue to work as arts program coordinator and artist in residence at Sanford Vermillion Medical Center. Isn’t it outstanding that they consider the arts a necessity for the residents of their long-term care facility? Sharing weekly art projects with our residents, with the addition of Personal Protective Equipment (PPE) and enhanced infection control measures, takes focus and good humor.

My painting studio is one of the places to rest and restore my spirit. The talking stops and the world works itself out in the pictorial form; meandering, ambiguous, narrative and playful. These canvases wait for me, mid-story, until I return to paint week to week. There are two series currently in progress. One is Cowboy and Indian, designed in response to Bob Newland’s photographs of South Dakota rodeos and the traditional content learned through CAIRNS’ En Route: Lakota Lands and Indian Arts Traveling Workshop. The second series features canvases of adolescent kids helping each other through a forested path. I hope for a reconciliation with these paintings by the end of 2020.

Detail of painting, (currently) untitled, 2019 - by Ariadne Albright.

I’ll mention a final benefit from social isolation during the pandemic. I was able to complete a big writing project, which began with a 2015 South Dakota Arts Council (SDAC) Collaboration Grant. Five years later, with the contributions of dozens of friends and colleagues, including five roster artists from the SDAC Artists In Schools & Communities program, my first book, Creative Care: An Artist in Healthcare and Companion Workbook is to be released soon. I hope it’s of service to my fellow artists and the field of arts in health.

New realities? Artists, we are trained to adapt to new conditions and ambiguity. We have the creativity to solve problems in the studio and our communities. Don’t be surprised if you are asked to take a larger role in the solution.

Dr.Yi-Chun Lin

Yi-Chun Lin is Artistic Director of the Sioux Falls Chamber Music Collective and Principal Viola for the South Dakota Symphony Orchestra.

I have gone through three stages during the pandemic so far—creation, destruction and re-construction. During the first month of the pandemic, feeling excited about the extra time to myself, I went into a crazy obsessive mode of creating videos and collaborating with artists across the world. “This is the time that we think outside the box to create fun digital projects with anybody in the world as distance becomes irrelevant now,” I exclaimed to myself.

Without much sleep for a month or so due to my excitement towards everything I wanted to do, I suddenly dropped into a state of exhaustion. I lay in bed and did nothing for a week. With my husband’s encouragement, I started trying things that are not music related, as I was too obsessed with all my musical projects. When I tried drawing, which was one of my long-lost passions in life when I was little, I started feeling the sense of contentment and joy. This period of feeling lost pushed me to face my weakness of sometimes being tunnel visioned and obsessive over things in life. I slowly reconstructed myself while being more mindful of how I spent my time and energy. I was finally able to feel my motivated self again!

The revelations I have had so far during the pandemic include the realization that when the world drives us nuts, it is OK to disconnect ourselves from the outer world, such as social media and news. When our inner world is chaotic, it is OK to take a break to breathe and to stop being chased by our daily tasks. It is also a sign to start exercising as our physical well being intertwines closely with our mental well being. When everything seems hopeless, it is definitely time to think OUTSIDE THE BOX and let our imaginations take us places!

It is important to step away from all the things we are dealing with day in and day out once in a while because the change of pace can sometimes bring unexpected joy and inspiration.

Dick Termes

Dick Termes, the creator of Termespheres, has a studio and home in Spearfish and is a South Dakota Arts Council Touring Artist.

It has been hard and very different to be here with this virus at our door. It has changed a lot of things in our world. For a long time we pretty much stayed at home. Later we realized getting out into the openness of the hills was a good thing. We just kept our distance from others and wore our masks as we still do when we go to get groceries. On the good side we have been doing educational videos for the South Dakota Arts Council and that has opened up some new roads.

Substructure of “Ocean Waves.”

I have produced a lot of artwork during this stay at home time. I guess if there were a theme in my art that has happened during COVID-19, it would be my use of universal geometries that help to tie my paintings together. In art we call it substructures. Why would I be using these geometries? I have used spherical geometries in the past but maybe now it is my attempt to find order in a very chaotic world. We are all longing for some order to get back in our worlds.

Now if the scientists will do their job and get rid of this virus we will have work to put into the galleries. We will get through this.

“Ocean Waves” by Dick Termes.

Cary Thrall

Cary Thrall is an artist, teacher and community organizer in Lead.

Above, Managing Artist Cary A. Thrall, left, works with Artist Assistants Sarah Larson and Michael Ryan on one of two Linking Fences 2020 installations in their hometown of Lead.

I make it my business through CAT Scratch Studios, Creative Arts and Therapies, to bring Creative Community Collaborations to life. The pandemic and overdue shifts towards justice in our country have led me to reflect more on the ways communities come together. Thankfully, the arts keep people tethered to each other. I believe creativity is always vital and especially in times of crisis. Providing people with ways to express their thoughts, values and sense of belonging is powerful. Regardless of isolation, that remains critical.

Communications have expanded online as a result of isolation. I’ve found it to be a unique and joyful way to grow new relationships in the arts community. I’ve had the opportunity to begin co-facilitating creative online groups. The West River Creatives group, initiated by Racing Magpie, is one that helps artists through the process of shifting business online. Mindful interactions like these make possible our ability to express what is happening, demonstrating thoughtful ways to share through community action. The work I do is about creating a space and giving people a place for their voices to come together. I believe these collaborative, creative avenues will contribute to better future chapters for us all.

CAT Scratch Studios is still hard at work. This summer’s schedule is full of opportunities for people to weave community. By designing public art installations on fences, the fence becomes more than a barrier or container. It morphs into a pivotal element for deepening roots through busy hands and heart-centered conversations.

These installations foster the seeds of communication through brainstorming and action. Breaking barriers while establishing rich foundations, building a stronger local family, is what I believe can help us all heal. With the vast distance between rural communities, this work also helps us connect one town to another and statewide. By developing our individual potential and being better neighbors, we make it through hard times.

Focus Smith

Focus Smith, Creative Director at Thrive Unltd., is a Rapid City muralist, graffiti artist and designer.

I am a Hunkpapa (Standing Rock) and Dine’ (Navajo) muralist with art works shown from the Dahl Arts Center to Sioux Falls and several states as well as internationally in Taize, France. I have channeled my creativity into creating a design centered around community that tells a story using original Lakota Beadwork Iconography, placing this design on shirts and hoodies through screen printing. I originally started this as a way to provide for my family whilst everything was closed.

The story told by the design gathered together people in Rapid City and beyond, truly showing the indomitable spirit of artists and supporters building connectivity through art. I have in turn begun reposting images of the people who have gotten shirts and hoodies to cross-promote their businesses. I have received accounts from other graffiti artists, tattoo artists, fine arts teachers, photographers, police officers, doctors and lawyers—all walks of life. The response has been phenomenal!

I created the design with simplicity in mind to honor the way it was done in the time of my great great great great grandparents. The design tells a story in that one meaning of the star quilt is that it represents community. At the peak of every direction is a triangle that is the symbol for home. In between the houses are the symbols for the thunder and lighting signifying the things that strengthen us through adversity—what we as humans bond over just as much as love. Each house has a feather to carry it upwards. The threetiered triangle above the home is the symbol for earth, an acknowledgement that we aren’t above the earth but of the earth. Above the clouds is the symbol for the tuswecha (dragonfly), protector of children as we’re all children. Wrapping around the edges of the circle are stars, a symbol of community.

Dr.Scott Simpson

Scott Simpson is a Black Hills educator, poet, songwriter and musician.

Several people have been writing about that upcoming day when we begin to crawl out of our caves and make choices about our new lives after this collective global experience. This spring, I realized that if Easter means anything, it means resurrection, new beginning, rebirth. Here’s hoping that on that day, and each day after, we all take intentional steps to see one another differently. I hope these days of “distance” can teach us all how much we need ALL of our siblings on this planet to make things go well. I hope our shared time of distancing can draw us together. I wrote a new song to help me remember—maybe it can help you too.

On That Day by Scott Simpson

There came a day

We didn’t hug our mothers.

There came a day

We didn’t kiss our lovers.

And on that day

The sun rose like any other,

But we watched the numbers grow—

Those who didn’t recover.

There came a day,

There came a day.

-

There came a day

We couldn’t leave our houses.

There came a day

We looked at children and spouses

And wondered if they

Could be spared and counted

Among the saved.

There came a day,

There came a day.

-

And love still remains,

It’s in the stains

On the masks and gloves.

And love still proclaims,

All the names

Of those who risk dying for us.

And love makes a claim

On the heart

That cares enough

To love, and sing this refrain

To remind us

We need the human touch.

Love and sing this refrain

To remind us

We need the human touch.

-

There will come a day

We will hug our mothers.

There will come a day

We will kiss our lovers.

And on that day

We’ll be sisters and brothers

And the sun will rise—

Maybe we’ll truly see each other.

On that day,

On that day.

Anna Robins

Anna Robins is a Black Hills songwriter, composer, multiinstrumentalist and filmmaker.

My art has taken shape during this pandemic in an unexpected way. Before the pandemic, my artistic work was mainly filmmaking and songwriting. When South Dakota shut down in March, I lost a lot of video contracts and my own projects were dropped out of safety concerns.

The first month in particular was really hard to handle with all of the changes and worries about the future. I am a songwriter, but words couldn’t express what I was feeling and overall I did not feel inspired. After a little while I started imagining these images coming together to express what I was feeling. Video art and animated collages were something I had been wanting to experiment with, but didn’t have an idea until the pandemic.

I made my first animated collage, The SMB (freezeframe shown above), based on how I felt trying to process the changing world through my little pipeline of social media. Soon after, I was inspired to create Moon Friend, also a pandemicrelated piece. I’ve found a new medium that I’ve fallen in love with. I think it brings all of my favorite and familiar mediums together in a very personal way, and it wouldn’t have happened without the pandemic.