a conversation with the natural world
TENDER IS THE DAY is a new body of work I began during a 2 week residency in August 2025 in upstate New York.
THE ENVIRONMENT: 300 acres of conservation land, working farm, small cabins; outdoor kitchen; a barn for studio space that was challenging, with more ceiling than walls; I adapted by working mostly in mobile-like sculpture.
My project centered around my attempt to be present, calling on the natural world for support, honoring the preciousness of the here and now. In the past few years the daytime has felt like a battle while the nighttime has brought peace.
I wanted to know what it could feel like to practice tenderness in the day, with full awareness and presence, tending solely to my self, rather than home and family. I created quiet rituals for myself: sun salutations, journaling, reading and walks in nature. I brought two books: Buddhist Pema Chodron’s When things fall Apart and Artist Anne Truit’s Daybook. Both informed how I approached my days.
“When we allow a little space we naturally know what to do.”
open mind / open heart
pens and books
beads and thread
paint and paper
hiking shoes and flip flops
swimsuit and skirts
questions
and
yes’s
“these days of this residency I want to bring into being my ‘noticing’”
WHAT I NOTICED…
dust and stone of a dry, dry earth on early mornings all alone
tiny ravine interrupting the land with its rushing stream
dewy drops settled onto the grasses and their wildflowers
shimmers and glimmers, reflections and shadows
GOLDEN ABUNDANCE
heat of the day, cool of the night, breezes that sway
webs of silken threads strung from the treetops
meadows and mountains, carpets of green
boulders and pebbles, branches and twigs
roosters with their crowns, mother hens on eggs
oily wool, with specks and flecks, fluffy white poofs in the concrete cracks
chubby pigs, troughs and buckets
crows and caws
seeds and rows, sweat and dirt
crisp, cool blueberries, maple and yogurt
broccoli and beans, bundles and bunches
pots and jars, giant sinks and dirty towels, overflowing fridges
carpenter ant crumbles
smoky blue skies, dark, dark nights, and one orange moon
sounds and stillness, cars in the distance, bees nearby, ever-chirping crickets
walks and talks
them with eyes wide open
us with shared stories
gas station ice cream
little joys, big emotions
it’s soon time to let it all go…
When they trust, the chickens will lift their bellies to offer their eggs.
The sheep will wait for help to get to a fresh pasture (unless, as I learned, it takes too long).
I feel a sense of kinship with some of the farm animals - something to do with motherhood.
WHAT I BROUGHT INTO BEING…
curiosity
attention
care
gentleness
compassion
forgiveness
presence
tenderness
sanctuary
The meadow glistens very early in the morning.
Little creatures spin silken threads from treetops to get to ground.
Milky opalescent drops fall from the sky right outside my cabin.
I am overwhelmed by the beauty of a moment.
The tears are mine, for the joy that comes from holding precious the ever-fleeting present.
The golden grasses are more delicate than they seem.
Each plant that I pick, I mend with care. I notice my own healing.
I practice braiding and forgive myself for not learning how when it mattered more.
What ensues, however, is a feverishly productive week - it feels magical.
