Buttercups grow wild around my studio. I have planted flowers—some of those grow, and some don’t. The buttercups flourish. Their lush green leaves grow alongside columbine where the ground rises beyond the stone wall outside the studio door. I pull out the grasses, dandelions, swallow-wort that would crowd the columbine, but often, I will leave the buttercups. Their bright blossoms are joyful. How can I not welcome them here?
Daphne Pulsifer, Buttercup, cast hydrostone relief pieces on panel, sealed with wax, 39 x 16 x 2.5 in., 2017.
Daphne Pulsifer and Andrea Perry, Jack in the Pulpit, cast hydrostone relief pieces on panel, sealed with wax, 18 x 12 x 2 in., 2024.
My daughter calls the Jack-in-the-pulpit “secret flowers” because the delicate and unassuming blossoms are naturally hidden among the leaves of the plant. They are a gift of springtime when you discover them in the forest shadows or even growing in your own garden. One appeared in Andrea’s garden the year she and I started our collaboration to create these reliefs, and I discovered one in my neighbor’s garden. As I imagined, these particular Jack-in-the-pulpit were bold “volunteers,” ready for our observation as we worked through the design process.
There is a field I walk by every day that is covered with blossoming lupine in May and June. Lupine are native to North America, and I don’t know if the lupine in that field are wild or if someone planted them long ago. There was a time when this field was burned in the fall. The practice guaranteed that brush and weeds did not grow to crowd out the lupine. Currently, people are not burning fields to manage them. The fear of uncontrolled fire is too great. So now we occasionally have a community workday to clear alder and black cherry saplings, as well as black swallow-wort from the area. It is The Lupine Field, and everyone who participates in a bit of weeding looks forward to seeing the lupine flourish.
Daphne Pulsifer, Lupine, cast hydrostone relief pieces on panel, sealed with wax, 11 x 10 x 1.5 in., 2018.
At the exhibition’s opening on 10 May 2025, Daphne Pulsifer discussed her work on view and read the following text:
Weeding
From the beds of tomatoes, lettuce, beets and chard I pull weeds. There’s no use wearing gloves to keep the dirt out of my fingernails. I need to use my fingers to carefully work around the growing vegetables. Later I will scrub my hands with soap and a brush to clean them. Not that it will matter. I’ll have clay under my fingernails by tonight. The sculpture of the dancer is progressing slowly and if I can just resolve a few details I’ll feel the clay figure is almost ready for casting.
I can hear the waves crashing on the rocks down at Lobster Cove. The wind is subsiding and the sun shines as I rip dandelions and crab grass from the garden beds. Seagulls glide overhead and call to each other. I shake dirt from the clumps of roots and throw the weeds onto a pile for composting. Pull. Shake, shake, shake. Toss. A worm falls with the loose dirt onto the ground. While I continue to work a robin boldly hops closer. With one eye on me, she darts forward and grabs the worm before it can wriggle back into the fertile soil.
The green tomatoes, heavy on the plants, are just getting the first blush of ripening.