These two photopolymer prints are reflective of my fascination with the aurora borealis—a phenomenon I have witnessed over many years at our Readfield, Maine, art studio. Auroras are a scientific event where charged particles in Earth’s magnetic field (electrons and protons) accelerate toward the polar regions, where they ionize oxygen and nitrogen, releasing energy as colorful light. According to NASA, “on Earth the most intense auroras are caused by solar storms—when charged particles rain down on the upper atmosphere, excite gases and cause them to glow red, green and purple.” (https://science.nasa.gov)
On 10 October 2024, the night sky surrounding the studio turned a blood red that I had never seen before. Not normally superstitious, I was still struck by a powerful feeling that this felt like something portentous of the future. The two prints I created portray a positive and varied color spectrum, and the chine-collé with Asian papers adds an earthly element. To me, these prints embody science connecting with another worldly presence, simultaneously logical and spiritual.
The Sunken Garden at the College of the Atlantic is the subject of this photopolymer print. The garden was originally designed and built by the Emery family who owned Turrets—a large, castle-like building in the center of campus. Created in 1910, on the foundation of a former summer cottage, its current intention is to serve as a wild edible garden including more than twenty species of native plants that support endangered pollinators and provide habitat to local wildlife. (The campus has a resident deer that is very comfortable roaming the grounds.) The garden is a living example of the campus values that “humans have the power to heal the world.” (Source: College of the Atlantic)
I photographed the garden one afternoon just as the sun was streaming in behind the architectural stone arch. I had been drawn there because of my love of gardens and gardening and was struck by the now non-functional arch serving as a framing entry point, which welcomed the viewer into the sunken space. This was not a garden of neat rows and carefully tended plants, but wild layers of intergrowth and dense textures competing for light and space. A joyous, layered conflagration of texture and color highlighted by the light of the life-giving sun. A sanctuary for quiet contemplation.