THIS EARTH
Curated byStefan HagenMarch 30-May7, 2023
THE ENDANGERED STATE OF OUR EARTHhas become a world challenge, and Concord is no stranger to those who have heeded the call of environmental activism.TheTranscendentalists of Concord—most notably,RalphWaldo Emerson (Nature,1836) and Henry DavidThoreau (Walden,1854)—advocated reverence and respect for this earth, as did the Nipmuc and Massachusetts tribes for thousands of years before them; and as do many residents of our town who are advocates for the preservation and stewardship of our shared environment. Thoreau recognized the need for simplifying in order to focus on and observe nature.
Stefan Hagen, who created the Montello Foundation residency program and curated this exhibition, THIS EARTH, did as well.The residency program facilitates a distinct possibility for artists who, like Thoreau (whose experience at Walden was cited by biographer Laura Dassow Wells as prescient performance art), have the inkling that this modified state will create the clarity and inspiration they are looking for to dial in, unplug, observe, and create. We are grateful to Stefan and this collection of artists for sharing their transcendent experiences from the sublime desert setting at Montello, so we too may become inspired to act on behalf of the earth with whatever medium we possess. Happy Earth Day!
—Kate James, Executive Director,Concord Art
The desert, to those who do listen, is more likely to provoke awe than to invite conquest.
—Joseph Wood KrutchTHE MONTELLO FOUNDATION grew out of the realization that a key way to understand nature is through listening and observing the desert. It is a harsh environment; it is both unassuming and spectacular. There is a gentleness to the desert, yet an unforgiving power exists within its elements. Vegetation does not flourish wildly; it grows very slowly. Every growth is in negotiation with the weather and can succumb to a human step in an instant.
There is a tremendous need on this earth to understand nature’s fragility and to communicate its vulnerability through any means possible. Statistics describing environmental decline can at times fail to be descriptive and motivating, while an artist’s sensitivity, tools, and vision can guide us to a heightened understanding of the need for change. To support this notion, I created an artist residency in a desert setting in a valley near the village of Montello, Nevada.
Two aspects of this residency were important to me from the onset. Aside from the “cabin” space in the house, I believed there should be a workspace: a space focusing on the desert environment setting with large windows to honor the artist’s practice, spacious enough for the resident to breathe and spread out their materials, collections, and ideas. Secondly, I wanted to stress the importance of the solitary nature of the retreat, with little to no distractions from the outside world.
Having a safe place in this desert environment turned out to be a tremendous opportunity to allow the mind to focus in solitude. Though THIS EARTH presents completed artwork, the intention behind the exhibition is to highlight each individual artist’s process. Themes emerge from the artists’ various approaches and personal relationships with their environment. Documentary photography juxtaposes abstract painting, intimate drawing, and large-scale sculpture.
In our manual for the house, the residents are advised to disregard their plans for the retreat and first to observe and listen. It is incredibly meaningful to present their work near Walden Pond in Concord—near the site of the original listener and observer of nature, Henry David Thoreau.
—Stefan Hagen, Curator Founder of the Montello Foundationopposite:
Stefan Hagen, Montello Night I,2010
archival inkjet print,22x 22 inches
courtesy of the artist
Joseph
Wood Krutch, The Voice Of The Desert: A Naturalist’s Interpretation, (New York: William Sloane Associates,1955): 220-221“Mountain Interval” is a research on stillness and transition. The interval, the space in between, is about the moments during which apparently nothing happens, but without which, no change could happen. This project describes this state of stillness and transition. This state can also be described as the space between memory and expectation and is another way to convey this transitional yet static state.
—Renate AllerRenate Aller
PLATE 41 | Swiss Alps, April 2016
from the series “Mountain Interval”
archival inkjet print,62 x 91inches
courtesy of the artist
Lee Arnold
courtesy of the artist
I am inspired by nature and how we perceive it. I am especially interested in the way in which scientific tools and techniques enhance and frame knowledge acquisition and how the presentation of data and information influences aesthetics and visual perception. Dark Nebula consists of photographs of a meteor shower overlaid with cyanotypes of pine cones; it is meant to represent a series of constellations as a non-luminous nebula of dust and gas that is observable because it obscures light from other sources. The audio track is a pairing of the melancholy song of the hermit thrush, recorded on an island preserve off the coast of Maine, mixed with NASA sonifications of light curves from Kepler stars.—Lee Arnold
Dark Nebula,2015 video,1:00 minute
flow through me is a doo-wop love letter between an imperiled freshwater mussel and its river system. It is a song of care and sorrow, an urgent plea for reciprocity. The mussels, Alasmidonta varicosa, sing of their care for the river, filtering the water as it flows through them. The river sings of how it cares for the mussels as it flows. Together they detail the symbiosis of freshwater mussel reproduction and fish that is now obstructed by the same mechanisms that choke rivers: dams. The mussel and river screech to be heard and understood as beings entangled with the very humans who bridle these connections.
bug carlson +Watergrass flow through me, 2019 video, 3:00 minutes courtesy of the artist
Tales from the Desert Floor, 2022 lithograph ink bar rubbing of desert floor, watercolor, colored pencil on Chinese paper,15x44 inches courtesy of the artist
Much like an archaeologist, in developing my work, I search for clues in the enigmatic remnants of the past. In Montello, I found beauty in the dancing arms of the “old sage,” in the sculpted rock forms that turned out to be dried elk dung, and in the desert floor which held the memories of everything in its dust, including my own footprints.
—Margaret Cogswell Margaret CogswellBOOK
Puppets by: Carlo Adinolfi
Photos by: Stefan Hagen
Story by: Renee Philippi
VIDEO
Narration by: Vera Beren
Video creation: Stefan Hagen
Bud and the Great Fire is an adaptation of Concrete Temple Theatre’s play Packrat. Carlo Adinolfi, a 2016 resident artist, says: “A packrat,who had taken up residence under the deck, greeted me on a daily basis. He was very cheeky, but through my encounters with him and other animals, the idea that we, humans, are just guests on this planet, hit home.”
Concrete Temple Theatre, Renee Philippi and Carlo Adinolfi
Bud and the Great Fire,2021 video, 8:00 minutes
courtesy of the artists
Elisabeth CondonUrban Jungle,2016
acrylic and mediums on linen
59 x 59 inches
courtesy of the artist and Emerson Dorsch Gallery, Miami
My paintings invite visual wandering through diverse textures, gestures, and applications. Adding glitter, iridescent mediums, and pumice to the paint recalls the improvisational techniques of scroll painting. Urban Jungle depicts a synesthetic landscape conflating location and memory through color, scale, and pattern. Translating the decisive strokes of ink brush painting into projected swoops or slab-like markings re-envisions the landscape as something torn apart and reassembled as collage.
—Elisabeth CondonBlane De St.Croix
Arctic Blue Drift Ice II, 2017 recycled foam, wooden panels, acrylic paint, and water-based pigments
48 x 48 x7inches
courtesy of the artist
My relief paintings show various forms of Arctic ice, such as multi-year ice, which stays frozen for consecutive seasons, or dark ice, which is caked with algae. In Arctic Blue Drift Ice II, I begin with a blue-black ground, like cold water devoid of reflected light, on top of which I carve sections of ice drifting apart, making the water underneath seem exposed.
—Blane De St.Croix
Ash Ferlito
MARSH, ITHACA, NY 6_19_19, 2021
green tea-toned cyanotype and artist frame, 20 x17inches
courtesy of the artist
Incorporating a variety of media and forms, my work pulls from the natural world—the landscape, as well as the plants, animals, insects, and birds that inhabit our surroundings. The projects, and my life in general, are guided by the joy of noticing the world around me and taking delight in making visible the invisible or overlooked. I have developed a project inspired by the activity of “mothing” (attracting moths with light for observation). I use this collection framework to produce a series of cyanotype photographs, on lightweight fabric or paper, of the various species of moths and other insects that appear. Carefully remaining as faithful to their night-of arrangement as possible, the results are an ethereal constellation of suspended activity. The project is a chance to observe and identify species highlighting biodiversity while producing an image of the dazzling beauty of moths.
—Ash FerlitoMy work is situated at the intersection of photography and land art. Photography clearly plays a prominent role, for it is the actual motivation that lies behind my landscape interventions. This is despite the fact that building and intervening in nature are essential parts of my artistic process. The Grid is from a series in which I deployed the motif of a grid—a technique that has been used in the tradition of painting to transfer perspective and foreshortening from reality to canvas with great attention to detail. On the camera display, a grid is used to help compose the frame. I, however, transform the grid into an object and place it in various configurations in the landscape. An auxiliary tool becomes a stylistic element—an integral part of the representation of the landscape.
Observing through the grid, we may be reminded that there is a gap between us and nature. The grid is the rational mind imposing order; conceptual intellect separates our irrational urges, desires, and appetites of the body into categories, hierarchies, and logic. The grid is a secure environment where we can rely on calculability and predictability, so that we may feel safe within its limitations.
—Markus Guschelbauer Markus GuschelbauerThe Grid, 2017
archival inkjet print, 20 x 28 inches
courtesy of the artist
Matthew Hamon
Lur with Clear Cut,Nemah,OR,2019
archival inkjet print,17x22 inches
courtesy of the artist
Photography and the American West have been mutually constitutive. After all, the birth of photography coincides with the same decade (1840s) as the annexation of Texas, the Mexican War, the Oregon Treaty, and the California Gold Rush. Since the middle of the nineteenth century, photography has continuously played a significant role in how the region and its “destiny” have been portrayed in America and around the world.
The photographs in this show are from an ongoing project that includes landscapes, portraits, and architectural images of the rural AmericanWest. The photographs explore the drosscape (large tracts of abused land) between industry and wildlands, progress and stasis. I’m interested in the legacy of the myths of theWest, and the associated nostalgia,longing,and melancholy, in tension with the unknowable power of nature and the clumsy legacy of man.
—Matthew HamonMy writing interrogates notions of attachment and impermanence. Whether referencing the topography of the land or the contours of the body, my work emphasizes how everything is subject to disintegration. It unpacks my personal compulsion to relive past experiences and emotions, interweaving interior spaces—including those of perception, reflection, grief, and desire—with a diverse range of external inspirations.
—Rachel Harkai
Rachel Harkai presented as spoken word courtesy of the artist
I photograph within the designated wilderness areas of the American West, where the flora and fauna are carefully tracked, counted, and managed. The preservation of these designated natural spaces represents complex and intertwined relationships between the natural world, local cultural histories, and ongoing conservation and management efforts by rangers and scientists. I learn about studies being conducted on various plant and animal species in these designated wilderness sites and photograph from within these habitats that are highly monitored while simultaneously wild and mysterious. With my photographic work, I attempt to address the sublime within nature, while making visual space for the human connection. Unlike the landscape photographs by Ansel Adams, images that epitomize wilderness as “the other” and the grandiose wild untouched by mankind, I am interested in calling attention to the many facets of study, management and human interpretation within designated wilderness areas.—Nicole Jean Hill
Nicole Jean Hill
left: Barn Owl, Napa Valley,CA,2020
right: Porcupine,Tolowa Dunes State Park,2020
archival inkjet prints,20 x16 inches each courtesy of the artist
Michael Dax Iacovone Golden Ratio, 2022 archival inkjet print, 28 x 52 inches courtesy of the artist
There is an overwhelming corporeal sense of scale that can be felt when standing in the desert, miles from civilization. I have been going to the desert in Nevada and Utah each summer for the past five years to work in the landscapes and document my interventions in those spaces. I’m interested in immersing myself in a location and spending days working in the quiet desert to leave my mark, however fleeting and anonymous.
I spend months looking at maps, drawing diagrams, and creating formulas to create a work specific to a space and time. The idea, the planning, and the formula lead me to a performance of labor that takes place in solitude. To document the labor, I use a drone to capture photographs and video as artifacts of an intervention. I am hopeful that those documents will draw attention not only to my process and intervention, but also into the fragile beauty of the landscape.—Michael
Dax IacovoneJames Kao
top: Concertina, 2022
bottom: Smokelight, 2022 oil on linen over board,14 x 20 inches each
courtesy of the artist
Clouds linger above Lake Crescent—like fog. Smoke signals fire, as do charred trunks and bright light.
I see ceaseless patterns and endless marks upon the Olympic Peninsula.
—James Kao
Arriving in the landscape of Montello, Nevada, evoked a profound sensation for me. I had found the place I had only ever imagined: that of the waterless bottom of a former ocean. The vastness, the wind-shaped landforms, the sunbaked colors, the random scattered clusters of vegetation combined with solitude altered my consideration of time—especially the earth’s time. It was early autumn. The weather fluctuated, usually suddenly. It went from scorching sunlight, to hale, to rain, and with sometimes howling winds. I thought about the alternating high and low tides of the Atlantic Ocean close to my home and how each day the shoreline is different. Here in Montello, as the dormancy of winter approached, there were daily (and to me, often surprising) transformations in the surrounding plant life. The gifts of solitude and time provided by the Montello Foundation’s artist retreat enabled me to tune in to the many nuances of flux in the wilderness.
—Laurie Lambrecht
Laurie Lambrecht
Desert Driftwood, 2018
embroidered archival print,24 x19 inches courtesy of the artist
My work centers on investigating the impact of stories on our behavior towards the environment. This exploration was sparked by my time at Montello in Nevada’s Great Basin, where Icontemplated relationships between our understanding of the American West and this fragile ecosystem, leading me to question how stories shape our behavior and align with cultural ideals. —Jeff Leake
Jeff Leake left: Wild Bill,2022 oil on wood,11x 9 inches right: Oasis,2021 oil on wood,11x13inches courtesy of the artist
My practice investigates traces left by time, as they exist in landscapes and in collective memory. I experience the earth as a drawing continuously drafted by environmental and human gestures: a wave creating a long, curved line as it meets the shore; the slow drip of water in a cave forming a stalactite. Existence is drawing; drawing is existence. Here, water drawn from Walden Pond slowly drips from four carved blown-glass vessels, a close accounting inspired by Thoreau’s bearing witness to that same body of water 180 years ago. The water, in a restless state of perpetual movement, will evaporate from the installation to fill the room and filter into the skin of each visitor, blurring the boundary between the body and the places it inhabits.
—SaraNoa Mark
SaraNoa Mark
Water Drawing, 2023
collected water from Walden Pond in carved blown glass vessels, aluminum pools, and chain courtesy of the artist
Summer McCorkle
Aokigahara, 2012 video, 3:53 minutes courtesy of the artist
My work is motivated by visiting a place, usually in nature, and making moving or still images in response to what I find there. I like to think of these pieces as visual poems that reflect on the geography of a place, what it contains, the effect it has on me and, ultimately, the effect it has on the viewer. Aokigahara is a dark, thick forest situated at the base of Mount Fuji, born from the last lava flow there in 864 AD. It is known as a site of fierce negative energy. Legend says it was also once a place where obasute (leaving old people in the wild to fend for themselves) was practiced. Later it was made famous by a story in which two lovers commit a suicide pact there.Today,Aokigahara is the number-one spot for suicide in Japan.
—Summer McCorkletop: Hells Bells,2017
bottom: Cactus with Brains,2015 photograph on baryta paper,24 x24 inches each courtesy of the artist
In the photographs in this exhibit, my intent is to blur the space observed between the audience, the plants, and the windows to gently shift the scene into abstraction. The optics of the camera allow for a change in focus that our eyes do not see. Human vision compensates for these distances between the plants and allows us to see everything sharply. The abstraction that the viewer sees is an interplay between the known and the observed. We look at plants with a basic understanding of what they should look like as familiar objects. The optics are skewed in order to transform the known into something more dreamy and possibly romantic. The photographs ask you to pause and consider the space as well as the plants and to wander for a moment in that ambiguity.—Evie
McKenna
Evie McKenna
Sara Morawetz
Walks for Richard,2017 documentation of performative action video,14:40 minutes
courtesy of the artist
In 2017, in homage to conceptual artIst Richard Long on the fiftieth anniversary of his acclaimed photographic work A Line Made by Walking, I staged a series of walks for Richard during my residency with the Montello Foundation—establishing several North-South and East-West desire lines in the remote sage-brush desert of northern Nevada. Illustrating the unseen labor embedded within Long’s historic work, I walked repeatedly in the landscape to produce a trace of my action, recreating my own distinct lines, which are implied but never revealed to camera.
In my walks, I discovered an emptiness and an amplitude—hidden pathways and an internal pace that required me to remain at once observing and observant of the natural realm. My solitude illuminated the world around and a world within— infusing each action with stillness, silence, surface, and sky. Time slowed, and I slowed with it. The trace of this tempering lasted long after I left the desert behind. In 2019, I would return to Montello in search of these sites only to discover all visible trace had vanished with time.—Sara
MorawetzThe world’s oldest tree (clonal) is a Norway Spruce named Old Tjikko. The tree above ground, scrawny and ringed by what looks like a shrub, is only a few hundred years old. It is the root system, carbon dated to 9,550 years ago, below ground and hidden from view that has the strength to endure thousands of years of change.
—Mia Mulvey
Mia Mulvey
Old Tjikko, 2018 cyanotype, 24 inches diameter courtesy of the artist
Brie Ruais
Tearing Inside FromOut (BarrickTurquoise Ridge),130lbs, 2021 glazed stoneware, rocks, and hardware,81x77x1-1/2 inches courtesy of the artist and albertz benda, NewYork and LosAngeles
My work is made out of the equivalent of my body’s weight in clay and generated by physically intensive performance. The clay is pushed and spread out on the floor, rammed and compressed against a wall, torn, and desiccated. The ontological forms recall spaces of emergence and passage, portholes and wounds, compasses and crosshairs. What goes into the sculptures is a spirit of collaboration, for clay yields as much as it asserts; the resulting forms are an expression of the abilities and limitations of both my body and the clay. Much like the land, I see the sculptures as bodies imprinted with the forces that have shaped them. My practice relies on the understanding that the land and the human body share similar vulnerabilities and ways of being affected, marked, and traumatized, and an equally potent ability for movement, beauty, and mutuality.
—Brie RuaisVictoria Sambunaris
Untitled(Zabriskie Point), 2021
chromogenic print, 39 x 55 inches
courtesy ofthe artist andYancy Richardson, NewYork
The desert has long been imagined as a wasteland, a wilderness, a barren area of destruction, ruin, or something abandoned, but what I discovered while working on my series “High and Dry” was a desert alive with human activity: dune buggies and motorcycles, campers and miners, military test sights and art installations. For some, it is a place of isolation, freedom, and self-discovery; for others, it is a place of a potential for profit through development, which the environmentalist Edward Abbey termed “industrial tourism” in his 1968 book, Desert Solitaire.—Victoria Sambunaris
In site-specific installations, sculpture, and artists’ books, I transform collected matter, materials, research, ideas, and intuition from one form to another in a dialectical process much like composting. Subtle phenomena —chance, tactility, gravity, shadows, entropy—are my foundation for close observation. My public work evolves from a profound interest in given sites as unique, specific places where human dynamics intervene and impact our collective future. —Jill
Sebastian
Jill Sebastian
left: Midday (from Desert Diary series), 2022 bookboard and paper relief,14-1/2 x9-1/2 x 2-1/2 inches right: Sunset (from Desert Diary series), 2022 bookboard and paper relief,15 x 9-1/2 x 2-1/2 inches courtesy of the artist
Diana Shpungin
To Get Out Of The Way, 2020 hand-drawn pencil animation video, 2:20 minutes courtesy of the artist
My artistic practice is dedicated to challenging ideas of drawing through sculptural and time-based forms. The works involve obsessive processes while exploring themes of memory, superstition, failure, loss, repair, and natural and domestic decay. It is a process that employs a certain brand of optimism in a quest for empathy across identity lines.
To Get Out Of The Way is a painstakingly created hand-drawn pencil animation consisting of over 500 unique drawings. The drawings were made from photographic documentation from my archive of travel around the globe. This work ambiguously illustrates the bond between the human and natural worlds and is a contemplationof the art-historical figure in the landscape, though with a wry present-day gaze. Figures in the landscapes proceed and recede in vast, diverse settings meditating on the idea of control, and lack thereof, in our natural surroundings in the wake of global environmental catastrophes. The accompanying sound composition is of my amateur playing of my childhood piano layered with the sound in reverse. With this layering the cyclical and anticipatory nature of the landscape (ominous, melancholic, hopeful) becomes even more evident.—Diana
ShpunginMiho Suzuki
Animal Friends,2006-07
archival inkjet prints
21x42 inches each
courtesy of the artist
Animal Friends (2006-2007) is a series of photographs I shot at urban zoos. Each piece is a triptych: a child, an animal, and sandwiched between them, text. Children’s attribution of internal states to nonhuman others such as animals and nature involves imagining others’ minds and internal states. I wanted to indicate this momentof nonverbal communication between child and animal by producing a likewise nonverbal commemoration.
The photos alone portrayed a tranquil, silent ideal, which was not the whole story. The visual record erases the presence of adults in the mise en scène. They only appear in texts.
Animals connect directly, often meeting the intense stare of both the children and my lens, but their communication remains nonverbal. My straightforward stare, however, is not so straightforward— I use the lens as a device to re-imagine my own childhood and invoke a remembered ability to understand wordlessly.
—Miho SuzukiJohn Thayer
Listening Sky,2021
audio,5:00 minutes
Upon arrival, the Great Basin presents an intimidating silence, its rugged terrain seemingly void of animal life. Yet, with focused attention and a willing stillness, we are invited into a wondrous ecological soundscape, an orchestra of biodiverse sound. Fauna, including our singing meadowlark neighbors, howling coyotes, and the occasional curious cow, provide accompaniment to the swaying juniper and frequent rains.
Listening Sky is an offering to this timeless place. The music was composed using a Wurlitzer electric piano, a Moog synthesizer, a quarter-inch reel-to-reel tape machine, tape echoes, digital software, and field recordings made during my residency with the Montello Foundation. I repeatedly performed a number of processing techniques on a singular musical theme, stretching it, pitching it, shortening it, degrading it, and using reverberation and time delay to create new dimensions in the stereo field. Through these studio manipulations, layers of minimal melodic phrases bloom into liminal ambience, evoking the ephemeral and ever-evolving cloud formations in the Nevada sky.
—John Thayer (image by John Thayer for the catalog) courtesy of the artist Lea Thomas and Yoshihiro SergelMemory Box, 2022
wood and fragrance, 5 x 5 x 5 inches
courtesy of the artists
Slide open the Shoji-inspired lid to Memory Box and experience the scent of an expansive desert landscape. Powdered sagebrush, cedar wood ash, and natural oils offer memories of the plants and elements of seasons past. In the traditional Japanese art of fragrance, Kodo, one is invited to “listen” to a scent. Here is an opportunity for reflection: what does one hear beyond the fragrant imprints of blue mountains, swirling skies, red earth, and wildfires?
—Lea Thomas and Yoshihiro Sergel
LeaTitz
Rectangular Pillar tawny to red
(Sculpture Park Montello),2017-21
archival inkjet print,16 x20 inches
courtesy of the artist
If you kneel or lie down next to them, the sagebrush bushes around the house seem to become huge, old trees.These “gigantic woods”of only one- to two-foot high trees fascinated me, and I started to work with them.
At the same time, I collected things: bones, stones, dry mushrooms, colorsamples from the hardware store in Wendover, as well as leaflets and a present from Montello-based artist, JerryTidewell, with whom we had had an intensive talk. Out of this collection, I created sculptures for these desert woods, for the Dwarf Forest. In addition, I made one specific hill my Sculpture Park, placing my sculptures of collected objects amongst the sagebrush. Each sculpture placed in the Sculpture Park is homage to artworks of other artists or myself.
—LeaTitz Patricia Watwoodrow one(from left): Matins/Heaven,Wind/Lauds
row two: Prime/Water,Terce/Mountain
row three: None/Lake,Sext/Fire
row four: Vespers/Thunder,Compline/Earth
2017
watercolor and ink on FabrianoArtistico paper,11x 30 inches each courtesy of the artist
In the autumn of 2017, I created the Montello Book of Hours at the retreat. I was inspired by the mystic poet Rainer Maria Rilke, who wrote in the “Ninth Duino Elegy”: “But because truly being here is so much; because everything here/apparently needs us, this fleeting world, which in some strange way/keeps calling to us. Us,the most fleeting of all.”
My creative response was to mark conscious presence of that time and place: those particular sunsets and moon-rises, storms and clear skies, that rabbit, that coyote. With the theme of honoring the sacredness of the earth and cultivating mindfulness, I made an artwork cycle based on the Book of Hours, a medieval illustrated prayer book. In Montello, I created eight works mirroring the traditional canonical hours. Each “hour” marks a different time of day and different direction of the compass around the house.
—Patricia WatwoodAudraWolowiec
Visual poetry/sound series with the “blues” from Rebecca Solnit’s“The Blue of Distance” and pauses from the hymnal Masses andVespers,2022 mixed media, series of nine, each11x 8 inches courtesy of the artist
This series was created in residence at the Montello Foundation in the Nevada Desert. The blues were extracted from the chapter “The Blue of Distance” (A Field Guide to Lost by Rebecca Solnit), paired with the musical pauses or rests from the hymnal Masses and Vespers. A rest in musical notation indicates the absence of sound, or an interval of silence.
—Audra Wolowiec
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