Generational Amnesia and Regeneration.

The phrase “generational amnesia” has lingered restlessly in my mind for months, recently taking flight from unexpected hands.

This phenomenon, also known as shifting baseline syndrome, describes how each generation views the environment they inherit as the normal standard, even if it is significantly more degraded than that of previous generations.

The stories we encounter are primarily those reported on news shows. These programs often focus on crises and dramatic events, daily fire reports, flooding, and other extreme weather events, leading to a prevailing sense that our environmental challenges are insurmountable. Although these weather disasters were extremely rare during my youth, for today's children, they are the norm.

As an eco-artist, I focus on how knowledge, traditions, and values are transmitted from one generation to the next. In historical cultures, this was often done in beautiful and poetic ways. However, I believe that contemporary culture has experienced a significant disconnect—a kind of amnesia regarding the workings of the natural world.

Art is a way to lift the poetry that links the rhythm of the human heart to that of hummingbirds.

Understanding natural history and effective social change is crucial for caring for the natural world and motivating others to participate in the movement.

Our storytelling has evolved compared to past civilizations. My husband, Curtis, and I took part in a hummingbird tagging event in Christoval, Texas, where we witnessed a compelling example of modern knowledge sharing. During these tagging events, biologists carefully capture tiny hummingbirds to collect vital information, including their sex, age, length, and weight.

After gathering this crucial data, a skilled volunteer carefully cradles each delicate bird in the palm of an observer's hand. The tiny creature briefly pauses, and you hold your breath, feeling an almost mechanical vibration, like a toy stuck in the "on" position — the rhythm of its heartbeat. Then, in an instant, it is back into the wild.

This moment—the exchange of a tiny life from seasoned hands to smooth palms—struck me as a living metaphor for what it means to nurture the passing of knowledge and care across generations. It is the story of regeneration.

The hummingbird’s pause is fleeting yet profound. It is a gesture of trust, vulnerability, and hope. It is a whisper from one generation to another, reminding us that our stewardship of the planet depends on this transfer: of respect, wisdom, and wonder.

In the 1980s in Houston, our garden was filled with hummingbirds, and their vibrant presence greatly influenced our outlook on life and our conversations often landed on their sightings. They were a part of our everyday life. We miss them.

Our understanding of nature, our sense of responsibility, and the stories we inherit fade like a photograph left too long in the sun. This collective forgetting—the amnesia—puts not only cultural memory but also the very health of our environment at risk.

The hummingbird photos reminded me that breaking this cycle requires hands willing to reach out and moments prepared to receive. It demands nurturing curiosity, empathy, and attention in children and adults alike. It calls for the deliberate passing on of more than just facts, but also the emotions and experiences that bind us to the world beyond ourselves.

Let us listen closely to that soft flutter of wings and rewild the wisdom of regeneration.

The weight of truth

The concept of the “weight of truth” emphasizes the essential role honesty plays in our society and the significant pressures that accompany it. This raises an important question: when does the acknowledgment of new scientific discoveries and truths, particularly those overlooked by community leaders, become an ethical or even a justice issue?

In the fields of soil science and environmental studies, we are witnessing the alarming effects of extreme weather patterns, land subsidence, and the loss of biodiversity. Urban policies shaped by city councils, homeowners associations, and societal norms often worsen these challenges. The focus has shifted from environmentally harmful practices, such as maintaining monocultures of non-native grasses using gas-powered tools—which contribute to air and water pollution and the use of toxic chemicals—to a more regenerative approach.

These decisions not only have profound implications for our health, particularly for children who are at an increased risk for cancer, but they also endanger the fragile wildlife biodiversity that is crucial for the planet’s well-being.

Once again, I ask: when does the recognition of new ecological truths begin to outweigh the legacy of colonial landscapes? It is time that our leaders and institutions bear the weight of truth. Let’s encourage and support them. I'm thinking about the situation in Houston, where our waters drain into the Gulf of Mexico. Homeowners are required to OBTAIN A PERMIT to AVOID using cancer-causing chemicals, and reducing lawn mowing which significantly decrease emissions—up to eleven times more than those produced by a new car. This approach supports biodiversity, helps maintain the water table, and prevents land subsidence. Shouldn’t homeowners who want to use chemicals to maintain their perfect lawns and gas-emitting machinery be required to have a permit?

Echoes of Existence-how to engage the students

I am slowly working to find solutions to the problems that will arise when the students implement the installation.

First, how to get students that are not comfortable with nature to want tobe involved. What will draw them in?

Second, a big problem is how to control a group of college kids in a field and have them complete a detailed installation.

Bloomington is a walking city. Every day as I would walk about town and the campus I worried about how I was going to solve these two problem. And like on most college campuses everyone is in their own audio visual world contained between the ear pieces of a headset. And I was the same. The difference was I still wanted to connect to those passing by me with a “good morning” or hi. I found the IU students were very focused on the sounds in their headsets they did not need to make eye contact or say hello.

In a discussion with an English professor, Shannon Gayk, who also teaches a walking class, I learned that a novel idea for students is silent walking. The idea of walking without a headset without sound — silent.

Thinking of headsets and silent - my mind went straight to silent raves then to a silent installation.

Would the concept of a silent installation draw the students in. Could this commitment to headsets be a possible tool for crowd control during the installation?

I love the idea. But that leads to another hurdle. How do I design a silent installation? What technology makes this possible?

With a quick Google search, I found several companies that provide everything you need for a silent event.

Bombus melanopygus - Black tailed bumble bee.

How the bumble bee got its stripes https://www.eurekalert.org/news-releases/600078

Bombus melanopygu, a captivating bumblebee species that I recently began studying for my body of work, “Rumblings”. As an artist, my process begins with thorough research, delving into the intriguing world of each unique species. Despite the limited information available, I find myself captivated by Bombus melanopygus and its enchanting research qualities.

Incredible breakthroughs have been made by researchers in understanding the color differences within bumblebee species. A recent study, conducted by experts at Penn State, has revealed the presence of a specific gene that drives these variations in color patterns. This discovery not only sheds light on the astonishing diversity among bumblebees, but also provides insights into the evolution of mimicry, where individuals adopt similar color patterns within a given area. The gene resides in a highly conserved region of the genome, which serves as the blueprint for segmentation. This groundbreaking research was published in the renowned journal Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences on April 29, 2019. -

Heat Dome

“What I propose, therefore, is very simple: it is nothing more than to think what we are doing.”

-Hannah Arendt, The Human Condition

Heat Dome

Watercolor monotype

30" X44"

Bare ground, concrete, asphalt, and astroturf emit 4X radiant heat. Great masses of radiant heat create heat domes. Heat domes prohibit weather from moving across the land. In contrast, surfaces covered in thick layers of plants indigenous to the region store water in the soil. When the day warms, the plants transpire, releasing bacteria with the moisture to form clouds that provide shade and then rain. We each need to carry our ecological weight. We can start by considering new ways to surface our city scapes to cool the planet.

Heat Dome ghost

A Turn of Events: My Dream Installation on hold.

This summer, I was presented with an incredible opportunity. A curator asked me to propose my dream installation, a chance to showcase something meaningful. The site owner was willing to support and fund the work.

After much contemplation, I decided on a proposal that filled me with passion and urgency. However, last week, it all came to a halt.

I am sincerely grateful for the curator’s interest in my work and the site owner’s support. Their initial inquiry inspired this proposal, and I cannot thank them enough for that. I believe that everything happens for a reason, I have an idea and I am hopeful that I will find the project a site and funding.

First a little background. While at Indiana University, I became aware that integrating ecological recovery with natural systems is a new academic direction and numerous educational institutions are interested in this area. After all, universities and school systems are the largest landowners in any city and having research students involved would be a great asset. Transforming the proposed installation into an art/environmental science installation would significantly enhance the social sculpture’s reach and benefit a university and society.

Below is my proposal.

Introduction-

Global warming, food security, drought/flooding, wildlife habitats, economic instability, and health – these problems are not new to humankind. The archeology of ancient civilizations has recorded connections between the longevity of civilizations and the health of their soil. The United Nations reported in 2014 that the world's topsoil would only last 60 more growing seasons. Soil scientists around the globe agree that solutions to these issues are rooted in our treatment of soil—the skin that covers our planet. 

In a moment of global uncertainty, I ask myself, what materials and forms would I use to create the greatest impact on society and the environment? As I think of ancient civilizations' architecture, art, and spiritual practices, pillars and vessels played an important role in shaping their understanding of the world. Much of my previous work has been about conservation issues, looking specifically at Earth’s natural systems of bees, at waterways, at bison, at native plants, at recovery from Hurricane Harvey, and now at the underground systems of Earth. And so, I would use roots as my material and pillars as my vessel.

standingGROUND

In standingGROUND, I propose a four-stage installation of 5’-10’ tall pillars of various shapes grown from the roots of long-rooted prairie plants.

These pillars will be created by stacking various shapes of clay vessels commonly purchased from home and garden stores. The vessels with the bottoms removed will be stacked and centered on a steel pole cemented in the earth with a small footing for stability. The pots will be filled with a leaf-mold compost and seeded with native grasses and plants known for their root depth. They are to be nurtured and watered for approximately twelve months or until the plants are rootbound in the clay pillars. The clay will then be delicately broken away and the above-ground plant material removed, leaving freestanding pillars of delicately intertwined roots bound in the shapes of the stacked vessels. The root pillars will stand erect on the hidden steel posts.

Drawing inspiration from the rhizomatic root structures of native grasses that give structure to Earht’s underground life, these sculptures, woven by natural systems, standing above ground, will bridge the gap between sky, earth, water, and modern humanity. These pillars offer a glimpse into the intricate workings of an underground prairie ecosystem, the upside-down rainforest for carbon sequestration of North America.

Four Stages

The first phase of standingGROUND will focus on the sculptural aesthetics of the work. I will carefully build the pillars composed of ready-mades to be strong sculptural elements on their own. Once a site is selected, I will choose a paint color that harmonizes with the surroundings and emphasizes the sculptural qualities of the pillars. Lighting will play a crucial role in showcasing the sculptures in relation to their environment. I will paint the pots before the installation, touch them up, and paint the joints afterward. Information on the site will discuss the ecological and social aspects not yet revealed.

The second phase will be to install the pillars into an immersive experience. The towering yet human-like pillars will be positioned strategically to create an intimate and inviting space for viewers. Within this space, a stone or stump will be placed as a reflective seat, provoking thoughts on how our actions impact climate and biodiversity and how humanity can find harmony within natural systems.

The third phase of standingGROUND is when I physically chisel the ceramic vessels away to reveal the social sculpture aspect, the delicate white lace-like intertwined roots bound in the shapes of the stacked ready-mades bridging the gap between sky, earth, water, and humanity.

The fourth phase encapsulates the cycle of life, decay, and regeneration. This crucial phase is essential for ensuring life on Earth. The root sculptures will gradually erode and disintegrate when exposed to the elements. Once the installation has reached the end of its visual lifespan, I will carefully remove the root sculptures. The poles and footings will be relocated from the site. This stripping away of the remnants will leave behind a cavity in the ground previously occupied by the footings. Remarkably, this void will serve as a space where the roots can be placed to rest-regenerate and give birth to new life.

I started experimenting with the shapes in their root form last week. I initially created six sketches in the form of watercolor monotypes. Then, I researched more pot shapes with larger mouths and created four more in round 2. The images of these sketches are below. I will continue experimenting with these shapes as I work on a site.

standingGROUND II

Watercolor monotype

30” X22”

StandingGROUND VI

Watercolor monotype

30” X22”

standingGROUND round 2 #1

Watercolor monotype

30” X22”

standingGROUND IV

Watercolor monotype

30” X22”

StandingGROUND round 2 #4

Watercolor monotype

30” X22”

StandingGROUND round 2 #3

Watercolor monotype

30” X22”

StandingGROUND round 2 #2

Watercolor monotype

30” X22”

standingGROUND V

Watercolor monotype

30” X22”

standingGROUND III

Watercolor monotype

30” X22”

standingGROUND I

Watercolor monotype

30” X22”