The news this month is largely a reflection on past experiences and how they have influenced, informed and inspired my work.  I’ve also included some a few current experiences and a few resources to continue to foster hope, stay informed and take action. There is a through line of compassion and care for the creatures we share the world with and for the world itself that is the heart of my purpose. It has been with me for as long as I can remember, the drum beat of early childhood days spent playing outside on the edge of housing developments, where fringes of wildness remained. 

I am sending this out today on this last day of June in honor of my mother’s 80th birthday.  Born Linda Ann Chancey on this day in 1945 to Florence Inez and Howard Donald Chancey in Dothan Alabama.  She moved around a lot as a child due to my grandfather’s years of service in the US Air Force and as an adult due to a few marriages to military men but has lived alone by choice in North Carolina for the last 35+ years. For the last 2 years she has resided in an assisted living facility due to advancing dementia.  She is the last survivor of her family, my last elder and last living connection to our family history. My mom is and will always be my biggest fan. She fully supported me in my decision to go two fine arts colleges, helped me to pay for my education and filled her last home with my artwork and pictures of my family. My youngest and I went to visit and celebrate with her early this month. We made her a traditional southern poundcake with candles and a few handmade presents as well as California grown sugar snaps and cherries.  I was taken by surprise as we sat around the table eating cake together when she spontaneously expressed her hope that I would have time to make my art.

Sharing some of my encounters with the Monarch Butterfly…

As an only child and only grandchild I spent a lot of time exploring alone outside.  My people taught me to notice the sounds and sights in the surrounding landscape and to appreciate both its beauty and bounty. I spent the summers with my grandparents in northern Florida and we made several trips each summer to visit my maternal great grandmother in southern Alabama. I was maybe 4 or 5 years old when I was playing in my great grandmother’s garden watching a Monarch butterfly gracefully flutter among the Phlox and Lantana flowers. The air was hot and humid, resounding with the sounds of cicadas and the moment was filled with wonder and discovery, resonating with an underlying sensation of kinship.

Almost 20 years later on the road to graduate school in Illinois, I found myself stranded on the side of the road. It was a very hot August day so hot that the little gasoline remaining in the tank had evaporated. The year was 1993 long before personal cell phones were in everyone’s hands so I stood on the side of the road waiting and hoping for help.  I began to look more closely at the space around me. Slowly I became aware that as far as the eye could see was the yellow gold of dead dry grasses. Then I noticed a small black shape in the grass and knelt down to look at it closer.  It was a very sad moment as it became clear to me that it was the body of a dead monarch. I gently lifted it and held it in my hands. It was so light, fragile and lifeless. When I looked beyond my hands, I could see the grass at my feet all along the roadside in the median between the two sides of highway, and all the way across to the other side, the grass was littered with the bodies of more monarchs.  I realize now this most staggering first hand experience, that we, humankind, have not been mindful of our actions, their impact on the environment and other living beings was a gift and set the course for the development of my work to this day.  I took the monarch I had lifted from the grass along with me to school and drew it many times mostly as a means of integrating and memorializing the experience in my great grandmother's garden as well as the tragic scene along the Illinois roadside.  It remains in a jar on a shelf in my studio. 

I’m also celebrating the inclusion of my work in a summer show…

Resident Artist Exhibition

You can view and purchase work from the show here.

Fostering Hope…

While I was on the east coast with my mom early this month, a very dear friend from graduate school came to visit. She introduced me to a birding app called Merlin from Cornell Labs. I’ve been using almost daily since downloading it to my phone (for free). The app allows you to record the bird song/sounds around you while it listens and identifies the species. I’m a novice bird watcher with no formal training and in most instances only identify birds by seeing them but this app is teaching me to identify birds by listening as well. I’ve already learned a handful of new birds.

Staying Informed & Taking Action…

The recent battle over the sale of Public Lands had me signing and sharing petitions and calls to action with family and friends and in my Instagram stories as well as calling and emailing senators because it struck and reverberated along my through line. In all my efforts I followed the lead of several organizations and writers that provided regular updates and calls to action including Western Watersheds Project and The National Parks Experience on Substack and offer free subscriptions.

Thank you for reading…

I’d love to hear what is keeping you hopeful and/or your stories of what you are encountering in your own adventures.