From Dusk to Dawn- Four works on paper

Written in 2025. Posted late —

I was contacted to create two small artworks for an office building in Houston getting an updated look — 3100 Timmons Lane.

When I saw the space I saw an opportunity. An audience coming and going nine to five with no connection to the natural world right outside their door. A five-story lobby with open wall space and nothing to draw your eye there.

I proposed something bigger than what was asked. Two works, two stories tall — Sandhill cranes in a wetland on the first floor, Roseate spoonbills in the trees on the second. Two successful conservation stories, stacked one above the other, in a building full of people who might never otherwise encounter them.

The developer said yes.

3100 Timmons Lane

One of the 7’ X 9’ recessed spaces for artwork.

But before any of that — I had to figure out how to make them.

This commission was the first time I worked with a process that has since become central to my practice. I start with a drawing. Then I tear it apart — deconstructing the image into shapes. I reassemble those shapes on a second sheet of paper, building a relief. Once the relief is built I brush on large swaths of watercolor, then use a garden sprayer to manipulate the color — letting it run into the crevasses of the relief, redrawing the image through movement and gravity. Then pastels for the detail marks. The drawing finds itself again, but changed. Looser. More alive.

That process led directly to Unfolding Hope — the body of work I created for the Houston Endowment Jones Artist Award. But it started here, in a studio sketch for an office building on Timmons Lane, trying to figure out how to put a Sandhill crane in a five-story lobby.

My presentation to the developer.

A early sketch

The next step involved deconstructing the drawing by tearing it into various shapes. After that, I can create a relief by reassembling these shapes on a second sheet of paper..

Why Sandhill cranes?

In the early 1900s relentless hunting pushed them to the brink of extinction. Only 12 mating pairs remained. What brought them back was wetland restoration and habitat protection — initiated by hunters who understood what they were losing. Today Sandhill cranes are the most plentiful crane species in the world.

That is the story I wanted in that lobby. Not a decorative bird. A comeback. Evidence that when humans choose to act as conservationists, the results can be staggering.

The Sandhill cranes are installed. The Roseate spoonbills are finished and in storage until the upper levels are repainted.

When the cranes went up the developer told me something I didn’t expect — the building became a community. Tenants were talking to each other about the birds. He leased his largest spaces the next month.

That is what I hoped for. Not decoration. A reminder — for people who spend their days inside — that nature matters and we feel its pull even through art.

The two finished pieces — Sunrise: Sandhill Cranes and Sundown: Sandhill Cranes — can be seen in my 2025 portfolio. Come see them. Better yet — come to the studio

Then comes the color.

SUNDOWN CRANES

7” X 9”4”

watercolor, pastels, ink on collaged Stonehenge paper.

Image by R. Wells

SUNRISE CRANES

7” X 9”4”

watercolor, pastels, ink on collaged Stonehenge paper.

Image by R. Wells

In Defense of the Uninvited

I think about weeds.

Not in an anxious, what-do-I-do-about-them way. More in a — wait, who decided these don’t belong here? — kind of way.

I look at these plants. Really look at them. They showed up, figured it out, and started doing the work. Nobody planted them. Nobody watered them. They just arrived, broke through whatever burning hot surface was available, and got on with it. You have to admire their spirit and determination.

We call them invasive. We call them a problem. And sometimes, they are. I am a die hard native plant enthusiast — however I have been uncomfortable with this reflex to yank out anything that wasn’t there before — particularly in cities, especially on abandoned lots and cracked pavement and post-industrial nowhere — as if those places had some pristine original state worth protecting.

They don’t. And these plants seem to know it.

Here’s what I’ve come to believe: weeds are Earth’s first responders. When the ground is left bare, tilled, stripped, burned, flooded, or just forgotten — Mother Earth sends them in. They are biologically programmed for the site’s specific conditions, temperature, moisture, daylight — speed healers. They lower soil temperatures, protect the earth’s surface, feed what lives below ground, slow rainwater, reduce erosion, sequester carbon. They show up precisely when and where they are needed most. They do not waste energy or resources.

Here’s what I’ve also noticed: the spots where something is growing — even the stuff we’re not supposed to want — are almost always healthier than the spots where we’ve cleared everything out in the name of keeping it native or neatly manicured. Bare ground isn’t neutral. It’s just… empty. It’s dead. And dead empty doesn’t really serve life.

So I’ve changed how I work. When a volunteer appears somewhere I wasn’t expecting it, I no longer yank it out in a knee-jerk response. I stop — look — think. Why was it sent in? What is it doing? Is it holding soil? Feeding something? Offering shade, cover, a landing pad? I weigh what it’s providing before I decide what to do about it.

The real question isn’t where did this come from? It’s what is it doing now that it’s here?

I’m not saying throw out the whole idea of caring about native ecosystems. I am still a die hard native plant enthusiast. I’m saying the city lot behind a parking garage is probably not the hill to die on. And the plants that moved in there — the ones in these photos — they’re working with what exists, not what existed.

There’s something I respect about that.

Just maybe they know what they are doing.

Take daisy fleabane. Erigeron annuus. Dainty and a little scraggly when alone but stunning in a bunch, shows up in places nobody planted anything intentionally. Easy to walk past. Easy to dismiss.

Here is what it’s actually doing.

It’s a pioneer species — which means it arrives first, on bare and broken ground, before almost anything else is willing to try. Disturbed soil, compacted soil, the forgotten strip between a parking lot and a fence. Fleabane doesn’t care. It moves in, stabilizes the surface, and starts feeding things. Bees, wasps, flies, small butterflies. The Lynx Flower Moth uses it as a host plant. Goldfinches pick through the seeds come fall like they’ve been waiting all season.

Nobody sent it an invitation. It just knew where it was needed.

That’s the plant in this photo. Doing exactly what I described. Showing up, figuring it out, getting on with it.

Easy to pull. I say — easy to love.

Passionate for Pre-K

This post will serve as a journal for the work.

“My four-year-old daughter saw her first butterfly and was terrified.”

— Lawndale Art Center patron, 2022

This remark, shared during my Symbiosis artist talk at the Lawndale Art Center, stopped me cold. Imagining a generation untouched by the gentleness and fragility of wings — this is a sorrow too heavy to bear and do nothing.

Wildlife plays a vital role in early childhood brain development. At the very least, let each school day begin with a procession past living poetry: vines sculpted in fragrant blossoms of lemon honey, trembling with the promise of caterpillars, alive with the fragile ballet of butterflies. Each child deserves to develop in the company of nature’s intelligence.

With small acts of passion, this is within reach.

DESCRIPTION

Passionate for Pre–K is a living social sculpture installed in the fall of 2025 on the chain-link fences surrounding the playground at Clemente Martinez Elementary School in Houston, Texas. I sourced approximately 90 Texas native vines from my three living sculptures: Symbiosis at the Lawndale Art Center, Deeper Than That at a private residence, and Sequel, located next to my art studio in Acres Homes. Passion vines are highlighted in the mix. Sourcing from multiple locations supports the DNA diversity of the ecosystem. Hope Stone and landscape architect Caroline Craddock coordinated this installation with the school administration.

THE PROCESS

Taking tender 10-inch vine cuttings, using root stimulator and native leaf mold to propagate the plants. I selected 90 plants of different species to support a variety of wildlife and accommodate different growing seasons. The school community assisted with the planting in early October.

LONG-TERM GOAL

As ecological knowledge from Symbiosis has taken root in Deeper Than That, which has grown into Sequel, the hope is that Passionate for Pre–K will act as a catalyst. Annually, new tendrils — carefully propagated — will be gifted from Clemente Martinez Elementary School to neighboring schools, allowing the spirit of regeneration to spread from playground to playground, blossoming into a living legacy of wonder and natural intelligence.

PLANT LIST

May pop, Passiflora incarnata

Stinking passion vine, Passiflora foetida

Various proven passion vine hybrids

Trumpet honeysuckle, Lonicera sempervirens

Hairy clustervine, Jacquemontia tamnifolia

Muscadine grape, Vitis rotundifolia

American wisteria, Wisteria frutescens

Crossvine, Bignonia capreolata

Carolina jessamine, Gelsemium sempervirens

COLLABORATION

Passionate for Pre–K is a collaboration with Hope Stone, Caroline Craddock, and the Clemente Martinez Elementary School community. This would not exist without them, or without the incredible volunteers who gave their time and hands to this work.

NOVEMBER 2025 UPDATE — SETBACK & RESILIENCE

During phase two, a fifth-grade class carefully planted the remaining plants for the installation. The following week, the eager students returned to check on their plantings — and found devastation. A child left unattended in the play area had pulled up plant after plant, leaving only 7 of the original 90 still alive.

This is heartbreaking and frustrating — but it highlights exactly how important this project is. The lessons a garden teaches about social responsibility, care, and wonder are fundamental. I will not let one act derail it. Every child has the right to be inspired by nature.

I am propagating new cuttings. We plant again in the spring.

Special thanks to Caroline Craddock for capturing these moments in photographs.

—special thanks to Caroline Craddick for capturing these moments in photos.

One of the plants from the previous planting that was part of the vandalism. Notice the gulf Fritillary butterfly hiding in the shadow.

propagating a passion vine in water.

The Stinky Passion flower’s scientific name is Passiflora foetida. It is also known as Fetid Passion Flower, Love-in-a-mist, Wild Maracuja, and running pop.

It has sticky, feathery, leafy bracts that surround the flower and fruit. When an insect tries to eat the fruit, it gets caught in the sticky bracts and dies. The plant then secretes a digestive enzyme and absorbs the nutrients.

Generational Amnesia and Water given the 7/4/2025 floods

Water is composed of a multitude of living organisms, each a microscopic being. Having spent most of my life in the vast desert of West Texas, I've always yearned for a connection with water and the beauty of plant life. Water gardening and underwater videoing have become my pastimes, offering pleasure, creativity, peace, and calm. I spent hours in our pond during covid.

However, I am concerned for our young humans as they navigate an environment increasingly marked by extreme weather patterns. I worry that they will grow to fear water, especially in the wake of violent floods that seem to be happening more frequently.

When reflecting on our relationship with water, it's hard not to see how humanity's approach has been somewhat harsh. I initially wrote violent, but AI suggested I use the word harsh, so I toned it down.

We often treat this vital resource as something to be controlled, redirecting it into linear channels and concrete ditches or trapping it in reservoirs and basins filled with chemical inputs. With hindsight how will future generations describe our treatment of water, our relationship with water? Thinking about it tears me up.

This treatment raises questions for me:

Are these extreme weather events, these overwhelming floods, a response to our attempts to dominate and contain water rather than nurture a natural flow? I believe it is.

Perhaps if we can rebuild our connection with water and all the microorganisms that make it up—by rebuilding landscapes that promote it to move slowly and freely, spread out, and soak into the earth-we might mitigate these violent, I mean, harsh events. Would fostering this gentler relationship with water lead to a more harmonious existence for us and water's living beings?

Lastly, I believe it’s important to recognize the value of our relationship with water, as it plays a crucial role in cooling the planet. In fact, about 90% of the planet's cooling comes from water. By fostering a deeper connection to this essential resource, we can better appreciate its impact and work towards preserving it for future generations and our own.

Re-greening a Dryland Watershed

https://www.usgs.gov/media/videos/re-greening-dryland-watershed

Generational Amnesia and Regeneration.

My husband Curtis and I drove to Christoval, Texas for a public hummingbird tagging event. I had been to a private tagging before, but this one was different. The public was invited in. Children were there.

Biologists carefully capture tiny hummingbirds to collect vital information — sex, age, length, weight. After gathering the data, a skilled volunteer carefully cradles each delicate bird in the palm of an observer’s hand.

The tiny creature briefly pauses. You hold your breath. You feel 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.

It wasn’t until I looked at my photos afterward that I saw it — a trusted volunteer placing the bird in a child’s hand. The transfer of knowledge, right there in the frame. A tiny beating heart. A child holding their breath.

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

This is what generational amnesia looks like in reverse.

Generational amnesia — also called 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. We absorb the world we are born into. We mistake it for the world as it is.

In the 1980s in Houston, our garden was filled with hummingbirds. Their vibrant presence shaped our daily conversations, our sense of place, our sense of wonder. They were part of our love story. Curtis proposed and hummingbirds were there. We miss them.

Today’s children in Houston have likely never seen one in a garden. They have no baseline for what’s missing. And that is the whole loss — not just the hummingbirds, but the memory of them.

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.

The hummingbird’s pause in the palm of a stranger’s hand is brief. But it is enough. This is how we pass down the endangered knowledge of our natural history now — not around a campfire, not through a grandmother’s photo album, but in a field in Christoval, Texas, with a tiny beating heart in your hand and a trusted volunteer saying: this existed. Pay attention

.

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?

Sequel: embracing urban rewilding and humming birds

30” X 44” watercolor monotype.

Exploring the beauty and artistry of urban rewilding is a central theme in my current living sculpture installation, Sequel. A key design element of Sequel is the mutual respect and reciprocity that value nature and all its inhabitants.

True beauty is derived from a respect for the environment and an understanding that humans are part of a larger, interconnected web of life which is not determined by the manicured and organized plantings on the site.

Part of my daily art practices is noticing the small changes as the seasons unfold. As volunteer plants rise above the ground I don’t reach for a herbicide I research the plant through multiple sources. Then I search for how the plant supports the Gulf Coast Ecosystem and the needs of permanent and migrating wildlife.

With longer days we humans are starting to clean up our outdoor spaces. By traditional values an unsightly spider web on the wall would be swept away. Dandelions and other tall skinny volunteer plants would be poisoned providing neatly groomed manicured lawns.

In Sequel I consider the longer days of spring summon the migrating humming birds and they too have needs that might surprise you. Over the years through research I've discovered that these tiny avian wonders greatly benefit from less manicured environments within our cities. Unfortunately, hummingbirds, which typically grace our urban areas from mid-March to mid-May, are on the decline. However, by allowing our urban landscapes to remain a bit "messy" and imperfect, we can support their numbers.
The benefits hummingbirds gain from such environments are substantial. As they prepare for nesting, they require unique materials for constructing their nests—materials often found only in less controlled, more natural settings. I find it fascinating how hummingbirds gather spider silk, dandelion puffs, thistle down, lichens, and moss. These elements help them create nests that are functional and aesthetically exemplify nature's perfect balance. These materials provide the necessary strength and structure for nest building, a critical aspect of their survival.

I believe buzzing hummingbirds swooping in and out of Sequel would be an incredibly beautiful addition to the installation. To support hummingbirds I've come to realize there are several practical actions we can all take as urban residents:

1. Allow dandelions and thistles to grow naturally. By avoiding mowing or spraying herbicides on them, we're providing the soft materials hummingbirds need for their nests.

2. Resist the urge to sweep away spider webs. Instead, let's recognize these webs as vital resources for nest building.

3. Appreciate the natural beauty of lichens and mossesand air pkants. Removing them disrupts their essential role in the ecological landscape that hummingbirds depend on.

My journey as an eco-artist has deepened my personal connection to hummingbirds, revealing how these incredible creatures can add magic to our backyards, fostering a sense of wonder and connection to the natural world. By recognizing and valuing seemingly minor aspects of urban nature—like dandelions, spider webs, lichens, and moss—we can significantly contribute to the survival and flourishing of hummingbirds. This approach not only aids these delicate creatures but also highlights the intricate balance and resilience inherent in nature.

In balancing the aesthetics of urban landscapes with the ecological needs of hummingbirds, I envision cities that embrace natural elements rather than suppress them. This perspective encourages a harmonious coexistence between urban development and the ecological needs of wildlife, creating urban environments that are not only visually appealing but also ecologically supportive. The presence of hummingbirds in such settings becomes a testament to nature's resilience and the potential for urban spaces to contribute positively to biodiversity

Dreaming of Melting Mummies.

When you understand the natural systems that regenerate our planet, you understand that snow is both an end and a beginning. Tobi, my Labrador, and I could not wait to check on our plant beings in “Deeper than that” this snow-covered morning. Scanning the installation there are bushy snow puddles of Butter daisies and Bluemist flowers with tiny bursts of color saved only for those who care to listen closely.

Layered in the dust of the morning’s snow the blanket flower draws us closest. The fiery blooms not reaching for the sun but in a motherly huddle. I am grateful that I don’t need to spend money, time, or energy on covering native plants that are genetically designed to thrive in extreme temperatures and weather conditions. The exposed plants create a subtle palette of earth tones rarely seen in urban landscapes, showcasing the various stages of life and regeneration that these resilient species represent. When my eyes focus on the details, hidden colors are revealed, and my brain receives a surge of oxytocin. I understand what hope feels like. As l scan down the street I see homes lined not in winters pallets but boxshrubs wrapped like mummies. For a moment I invision those mummies milting into a street lined with nature’s gentle winter lessons. I image things to inspire children to explore and capture their imagination.

In the quiet of the snow, I reflect on its form—a white-covered blanket—and its relationship with a planet that naturally regenerates for future generations. I consider how the plants that freeze back or remain in place become energy sources and habitats, supporting the foundation of the planet’s food network. It warms my heart to think about how this snow-covered landscape protects the soil life that nourishes roots and promotes spring growth.

There are many lessons that humans can learn from a garden that embraces seasons, regenerates life and provides for a diversity of beings. Imagine how different the world would be if every child’s first classroom was a garden, or if all politicians had to maintain a healthy garden without the use of chemical inputs for four years before they could hold office. They would gain insights into networking and learn about symbiotic relationships in real life.

Lifeblood

Lifeblood

5.75 “ X 6” X 7”

bronze

Image by Jake Eshelman

Lifeblood, Explores of the profound connection between humans and nature, conveyed through the visual metaphor of a root naturally occurring in the shape akin to the human heart. This piece is part of a larger body of work titled "Subterranean Secrets," which delves into the theme of roots. My work aims to invoke reflection on the unseen yet vital networks that sustain both plants and humans. By casting roots directly in bronze, I emphasize their resilience and permanence, highlighting the enduring significance of these natural systems.

The inspiration for "Lifeblood" arose from my studies on regenerative agriculture, focusing on the indispensable role roots play in countering extreme weather. My exploration into the fascinating world of roots began in 2017, unveiling striking visual similarities between roots and the human heart. These parallels reveal both biological and conceptual truths, as roots and the heart function as lifelines, circulating essential nutrients that sustain life.

Through "Lifeblood," I invite an examination of the often-overlooked relationships between human existence and the natural world. The act of casting these roots in bronze imparts permanence to these otherwise ephemeral forms, challenging perceptions of how we value the natural systems surrounding us. This sculpture contributes to the ongoing dialogue about our environment by emphasizing our dependence on nature and reinforcing the deep interconnection between humanity and the natural world.

In the end, "Lifeblood" serves as a call to acknowledge and appreciate the hidden yet crucial systems that support life. I believe that by understanding and valuing these networks, we can cultivate a deeper awareness of our roles within the broader ecological system, sparking actions to preserve and nurture the natural environment essential to human existence.

La Mancha’s Sequel: A Mindful, Climate-Smart Urban Landscape.

January 14th

Today, as I immerse myself deeper into the world of ecological restoration and sustainability, I find myself fueled by an overwhelming sense of purpose. My Climate-Smart Urban Landscape project has truly become a labor of love, growing more meaningful with every leaf gathered. As I collect bags of native Oak leaves from curbs, I'm not just gathering leaves—I'm cradling potential life, the eggs, pupae, larvae, and chrysalises that might be nestled within. Astonishingly, Oak trees are home to over 900 species of caterpillars. These caterpillars serve as a crucial food source for many songbirds and their young across North America. By saving these leaves, I am inadvertently contributing to the survival of these beautiful creatures.

The interconnected benefits of these efforts are profound. First, by fostering biodiversity, I help ensure diverse species can thrive. Second, as the leaves decompose, they transform into a rich, nourishing substance that revitalizes our depleted soil, forming the very backbone of our food network. Third, these leaves provide essential shelter from harsh weather, acting as a protective barrier against heavy rains and cold temperatures and safeguarding the tiny creatures that rely on them to survive.

My inspiration stems from personal experiences and a deep sense of environmental stewardship. Through "La Mancha’s Sequel," my urban landscape project, I aspire to blend art, architecture, and environmental literature in a way that leaves a meaningful impact. My goal is to transform the local community here in Houston and ignite a larger appreciation for ecological interconnectedness. By sharing this journey, I hope to inspire others to commit to regenerative practices within urban environments.

With every leaf collected and every small step taken, I am moving toward a more harmonious world. This journey reminds me that each of us holds the power to make a difference in our neighborhoods, communities, and beyond. Together, we can create a future where sustainability and biodiversity thrive hand in hand.

#rain #soil #abstractexpressionism #houstonart #ecoart #socialsculpture #cindeeklementart #art #texasart #sculpture #contemporaryart #modernart #regenerativeart #sequel #acreshomes #foodnetwork #foodchain #regeneration #regenerativeart #artandscience #agriculture #agriart #foodnetwork #foodweb

Prairie Rhythms: Predators and Pastoral Stewardship

As I prepare for my upcoming living sculpture titled "Sequel," I had the opportunity to explore the prairie ecosystems at Pierce Ranch. The morning started with collecting prairie seeds, which is a vital step in bringing my sculpture to life. To enhance my understanding of these ecosystems and find the most viable seeds, I reached out to a local prairie conservationist who has been instrumental in restoring numerous prairies, notably preserving the Katy Prairie. Collecting seeds is much like eating crawfish, proven to be a catalyst for engaging and enlightening dialogue.

The insights I gained from this exchange confirmed my concerns regarding land preservation. It might surprise and disturb you to learn that the most vibrant and diverse prairies aren't necessarily those that are protected. Rather, they are the prairies that have embraced a more dynamic relationship with the land through careful ranching practices and thrive with life and diversity.

Historically, the natural balance between predators and prey shaped these ecosystems. Predators once hunted freely, guiding the movements of herbivore herds, naturally managing the consumption of vegetation (energy) and the dispersal of organic matter in the form of dung, returning energy back into the soil. However, human intervention led to the decline of these predators, overgrazing, and the desertification of ranchlands. Modern-day ranchers have learned to adapt by using portable fences to mimic these natural movements. This modern adaptation sustains the prairie as a healthy ecosystem, supporting numerous bird species and wildlife.

Through this blog post, I hope to reach an audience unaware of the critical role of ruminants in preserving and revitalizing prairie ecosystems. It's not merely about protecting a static image of nature but understanding and fostering the dynamic relationships that sustain it. The prairies are a testament to the resilience and complexity of life when allowed to interact naturally, even within the framework of sustainable human practices.

It's exhilarating to see how this knowledge aligns with my artistic vision. The conversations I've had and the observations I've made will undoubtedly enrich the narrative and structure of my living sculpture. The prairie seeds are not just components of my work; they symbolize a deeper understanding of ecological balance and the beauty of a thriving ecosystem. They are a source of energy and knowledge, a way to repay the planet.

As I continue this creative process, conversations with friends and experts will remain the cornerstone of my inspiration. In sharing these insights, I hope to foster a broader appreciation for the nuances of prairie conservation and the subtle yet profound ways we can contribute to preserving our natural world.

I leave you with questions that modern society must consider: How can ruminant populations be managed in the absence of predators? What are the consequences of not culling herds? What does the future cycle of life entail?

Living Labyrinth – Echoes of Existence: A Journey Through Nature's Narratives To Redefine The Anthropocene. - Artist statement

Echoes of Existence: A Journey Through Nature's Narratives To Redefine The Anthropocene.

A Living Labyrinth · Available for Installation

Before the turf grass, there were bison. Thirty million of them — the first farm equipment, brown not green — harvesting the plains with their appetites, drilling seeds into the earth with their hooves, building the soil that once covered this continent. Then they were gone. What replaced them was manicured lawn — a carbon footprint where a carbon sink once stood.

Echoes of Existence is a living labyrinth designed for a field of turf grass. The labyrinth is shaped as a bison — a tribute to the eating and waste habits that built North America’s ecosystems. Students install it. Native plants replace the turf. The entrance is marked with limestone inscribed: What might seem like the endpoint…may also be the beginning.

It was developed during an artist residency at Indiana University. The university is working to find its permanent site. In the meantime, the work is available — to any campus, institution, or community with a field of grass and the willingness to let something live in it.

links to other Living Labyrinth blog posts.

Artist in Residency at Indiana University- Living the Dream Installation.

IU- How do you draw a labyrinth?

IU- What kind of Labyrinth should I make? What is my site-specific message?

IU- How do you build a labyrinth from 8’ X10” to 83’ X 54’?

IU- Natural Systems - digestive system.

IU- The labyrinth design - How will it be installed?

IU- Living labyrinth- Building the grid.

WHISPERS OF A SHIFTING DIVIDE

Whispers of a Shifting Divide is a polished bronze sculpture that imagines the unimaginable. It was inspired by my children's 1997 discovery of a crustacean fossil lying in the desert of West Texas just before we moved east to semitropical Houston, Texas.

The sculpture symbolizes the U.S. 100th meridian, the demarcation between the arid western US and the humid eastern US since the early 1800s. Since 1980, this demarcation between arid and humid has shifted 140 miles eastward from the west side of Austin, Texas to the east side of Austin to the 98th meridian. Another 140 miles — another 40-50 years — and Houston, known for its semitropical humidity will be on the arid side of the boundary.

The polished bronze material nods to Houston's future and industrial character, particularly the polished steel street signs in its minimally landscaped commercial tourist area, Uptown Houston.

By imagining the unimaginable, this work fosters a dialogue that calls for environmental consciousness of the possibilities of our actions.

Weingarten Art Group - Reseeding

I am delighted to be included in the spring 2024 exhibition at CityCentre, “Reseeding”, which prompts deep reflection on humanity’s influence on the natural world. The exhibited artwork urges us to envision a utopian future where our impact is positive and mindful choices lead to a harmonious coexistence with nature, inspiring a collective commitment to a sustainable future. The exhibition was thoughtfully curated by Olivia Kimbrell of Weingarten Art Group.

On exhibit until September 2024, the lobbies at CityCentre are open to the public M-F, 8 AM – 6 PM

CityCentre 2 Front – Christian Eckart
CityCentre 2 Back – Cindee Travis Klement
City Centre 3 – Dornith Doherty
CityCentre 4 – Bruna Massadas
CityCentre 5 – Rachel Livedalen

Photography by Nicki Evans

Planetary Mission Statement .

Integrating systems theory into my art practice has influenced my work in many ways. It is one of my core beliefs that in order to save the planet it is imperative that every organization, be it large profit-driven or small non-profit, commits to embedding an environmental ethos into their core values. The place to start is with an organizations mission statement.

In a serendipitous encounter with an acquaintance from a prestigious art institution this weekend, I learned of their significant reorganization. I suggested that every institution embed an environmental ethos into their mission statement and then I thought - even Throughline. Throughline is a newly organized Collective that I am a member of.

Today I discussed these thoughts with fellow Throughliner Caro Otero a gifted artist and caring human being. Caro and I are part of the Throughline facilities committee. We discussed that there are steps we can take to improve our day to day operations and become better stewards of the planet.

Envisioning a profound commitment, we proposed to the administration committee to incorporate this spirit into Throughline's mission statement:

It could read something like this-

We vow to serve as Earth's custodians, honoring its natural rhythms. Embracing accountability for our environmental footprint, we strive to operate conscientiously, leaving a positive mark through purposeful actions. We are advocates of planetary regeneration.

Or something that says Throughline cherishes nature and restores the environment through conscious daily actions.

In our role in the facilities committee, Caro and I will examine Throughline's everyday activities as an organization and consider ways to operate more responsibly and advocate for the planet. We will re-evaluate these procedures annually.

Please pass this idea on to your organizations and incorporate planetary responsibility into your bylaws.

Besides making greener choices in the products we buy, such as disposable cups and beverages, our treatment of urban landscape and protection of Earth’s living soil is a powerful way reduce our carbon footprint and support biodiversity.

There is tremendous power in the collective action of small acts.

Indiana University artist in residence— conceptualism, the site, archeology and anthropology.

October 11th was the end of the first leg of my residency. The experience truly supports the statement you don’t get what you want but you always get what you need. I did not seek out the residency but I can see how it is helping me take my Social practice to the next level.

It is giving me the opportunity to use; the symbolism of a labyrinth, the regenerative symbol of a bison, the turfgrass of an institute of the US collegic system to change societal habits. These features alone are rare and hard to come by resources.

Exploring the campus and discussing my plans with all who would listen resulted in IU providing me with the opportunity to add a few more layers to the work. Specifically conceptualism, archeology and anthropology.

Conceptualism- The Eskenazie Museum on IU’s campus has one of the three complete collections of Marcell Duchamps readymades. Seeing these pieces of Duchamp the father of conceptualism from the 60!s and 70’s gave me the idea that my work at Indiana would be more impactful if it is conceptual.

As I began to plan the labyrinth design and installation I began to see how beautifully Conceptualism works with Social sculpture. If I create the concept and the design the steps to install it and the students implement my concept and design it becomes theirs. It won’t be my art they assist me with it will be their actions taking meaningful steps.

The last Monday at IU in a meeting discussing the actual installation process with one of the professors and directors of the Hilltop Gardens it was suggested I work with the anthropology department and Archeology departments when I return. Archeologists will be enlightening when it comes to installing the grid. The Anthropology department can help facilitate a possible relationship and sharing of culture between the students of the First Nations and the students who do not have a deep connection to the land. I would like the installation to be a catalyst for the two groups to develop a unified way forward, a new tradition or ceremony that will give them all together a personal connection to the landscape and the biodiversity it will support.

The next step is to get the University wheels to approve a site. To be the most successful the site needs to be a sea of turfgrass, have full sun, be spacious enough to accommodate the 85’ X 54’ bison, and accessible to the students and community.

I am thrilled to announce that in late January 2024, IU selected a sloped plot of The Hilltop Gardens for the installation.

Related blog posts

A labyrinth of what shape? http://www.cindeeklement.com/blog/2023/10/2/what-kind-of-labyrinth-a-seed-a-beautiful-design-a-bison-that-is-the-question

The design

http://www.cindeeklement.com/blog/2023/10/8/the-labyrinth-design-how-will-it-be-installation

From 8” X 10” to 53’ X 85’

http://www.cindeeklement.com/blog/2023/10/7/how-do-you-build-a-labyrinth

Language and Perception

In the above image the wrench represents industry and the butterfly the natural world.

For those with philosophical minds, it’s fascinating to explore how language shapes our understanding of the world. The power of words extends beyond mere communication; it molds our perceptions and influences the way we interpret reality.

Consider how our dominant cultural values can impact our vocabulary and ultimately shape how we perceive things. If our society places highest importance on industry and financial gain without regard for environmental consequences, our language will reflect that mindset.

Our perception of the image and the world is shaped by our language. If our main focus is on achieving economic success at any ecological cost, then our vocabulary reflects these thoughts, and these thoughts in turn influence how we value ecology. Take a moment to consider this image of a butterfly and a wrench.

What do you perceive — a wrench supporting a butterfly or a butterfly struggling to withstand the pressure from a wrench?

We can use this knowledge to change society – by analyzing the relationship between language and perception, we can start to question and challenge these dominant narratives. We can choose to broaden our vocabulary, incorporating words that prioritize environmentalism and regeneration.

Imagine if everyone shifted their linguistic focus towards promoting regenerative practices, valuing nature, and taking responsibility for ecological well-being. This change in vocabulary could create a shift in perception – from viewing nature as something to exploit for financial gain to recognizing its inherent value, fragility and it’s power.

So let me ask you again: How do you perceive the image of the butterfly and the wrench? We have an opportunity to reflect on the power of language, challenge conventional thinking, and work towards creating a more regenerative future for ourselves and generations to come.

#ecoart #socialsculpture #wrench #butterfly #language #womanartist #texas #houston #cindeeklementart

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

Moving Forward

Moving Forward

67” X 15” X 18”

Image by Jake Eshelman

Found object concrete and rebar curbing fragment, rusted steel, bronze, and gold leaf.

Moving Forward consists of two rectangular concrete curb fragments and two cast bronze roots, the latter with gold-leaf patinas. These objects are tethered like irregular beads strung on a wire of rusty rebar falling to the earth.

The fractured concrete and the more extensive root land at the forefront in a forward strutting anthropomorphic structure. Growing behind the long-necked bird-like form, a stem of rebar twice the creature's height reaches for sunlight. The meandering stem is counterbalanced with the smaller root in a lyrical passed sunflower shape.

The weighted composition invites viewers to reimagine the relationship between our engineered landscapes and ecological systems to support wildlife and forge a path toward a regenerative future.