Willows never forget how it feels 

to be young.  

Do you remember where you came from? 

Gravel remembers.  

Even the upper end of the river 

believes in the ocean. 

Exactly at midnight 

yesterday sighs away.  

What I believe is, 

all animals have one soul. 

Over the land they love  

they crisscross forever. 

-Climbing Along the River by William Stafford 

In the spring of 2020 I was living on my family’s farm with three other artists. The COVID pandemic was beginning. We were all making work and unsure of what lied ahead. Like the rest of the world, we hunkered down, worried about loved ones, and did the best we could to deal with uncertainty. We felt wholly connected to the world through the fact that everyone was affected by the sudden shutdown of our planet, and entirely disconnected by the fact that the shutdown dramatically affected our ability to interact with anyone other than each other. 

I made this work in response to that discomfort as well as my own need to heal from unexpected changes in my life that occurred just a few months earlier. I began to focus on the peacefulness of the willow trees on our property. Willows are known for healing - they are often the first life to emerge in land that has been impacted by trauma such as fires, massive clearing, or drought. Willows settle the surrounding soil. They provide nutrients that have been stripped from the land and in doing so allow for other life to re-emerge. Slowly, a healthy ecosystem returns, but the willows rarely last long enough to see the new abundance of life they enabled. Their lifespan is only thirty years - they are the fastest growing of all trees, and the shortest living.  

The first iteration of this work was designed to mimic the supportive umbrella of the trees. The print was nearly fifty feet long and four feet wide. This is roughly the height of the tree from which the willow branches used to make this image were borrowed. It was exhibited in this iteration twice - once at the Museum of the Mississippi Delta and a second time at the Mississippi Museum of Art. These locations were intentional, as Mississippi has a long history of hurt bled into its land. The Delta region of the state was the largest perpetrator of this trauma. Healing is needed there. It has begun. It will continue.  

My intention was always for there to be a second iteration of this work. As the print was installed and deinstalled inevitable rips and tears occurred as the size of the piece was nearly impossible to handle without bruises occurring. I knew this would happen and accepted it, as anything and anyone that live a life of engagement will inevitably be shaped by the specific moments in which contact with others occurs. None of us live a life that is untouched. 

From the beginning, I planned to let this work live as long as possible as a unified print, but when that was no longer possible a new life could emerge.  I tore the piece in five foot sections. These lacerations would create unique fissions. Each isolated moment would have a connection. 

These new 4’x5’ prints - eleven of which were created from the original 50’ image -  would then be sent to locations around the world to live individually. Perhaps these eleven prints will make their way back together someday and the original imprint made in the spring of 2020 can be envisioned in proximity to its youth. Perhaps they will not. Either way, they will always be connected. At least that’s my hope.