Creative Currency

Whole numbers

I am now rich with sand dollars.  Not the broken shells typically found in my childhood beach hunts, but perfectly whole specimens of this sea urchin treasure.

Seriously – we are talking the mother lode of sand dollars.

Never have I seen such a gorgeous array of sizes and colors of whole sand dollars washed up on the beach, Cayucos, California, September 2020.

So, what does an artist do with so much natural wealth?

Simple – leave it behind in exchange for creative inspiration that only the coast can generously offer.

Welcome to California’s Central Coast!

Bank holiday

My latest journey to visit my daughters living in San Luis Obispo filled my pockets up in more ways than one. 

Christmas was the last time I saw my oldest daughter, Devon, and the pandemic had cancelled a springtime trip to play on the beach with all four of us together.

So, two weeks relaxing oceanside with my kids this past month was a true gift. 

Hiking Harmony Headlands with my kids, Zsofi, Devon and Mason, August 2020. So much fun!

Exploring the sea cliffs at Montaña de Oro and Harmony Headlands state parks, watching my girls surf at Dog Beach and Moonstone, and catching some pretty sweet sunsets brought some big smiles.

Devon living the surfer’s life on Dog Beach in Cayucos, California, September 2020.

Zsofi shredding it on a foggy day at Moonstone Beach, Cambria, California, August 2020.

It also brought me the opportunity to connect more deeply with my surroundings by leaving small installation offerings as an ephemeral payment of gratitude.

Thank you, Central Coast.

Frozen assets

To tender ice as an artistic medium on a windy beach is exciting stuff.

Finding the perfect spot to create a brief visual experience involves sand, stone and surf.  And, as you might imagine, not all places freely accept my form of creative currency.

You have to place a lot of ice to get a lucky shot, and luckily, the failures melt fast! Moonstone Beach, Cambria, California, September 2020.

But, failed attempts are all part of the trek, and without the stagger there can be no sparkle. 

Ice installation is a true balancing act of patience and persistence. Cayucos Beach, California, August 2020.

All of the rejected installations are rewarded with laughter and lessons of letting go - critical elements of building a balanced artistic practice.

Bag of sand

Two beaches that are especially generous in their inspirational exchange along the Central Coast are the pebbly Moonstone and the long sandy strand stretching from Morro Bay to Cayucos.  Although waves crash against both to sculpt the tideline, there are unique features at each one that draw me in time and time again.

•  MOONSTONE

Say hello to a rock hound’s paradise of agates, jade and jasper.  Every visit I make to the area requires a few hours simply sifting through the stones.  So, leaving a small ice installation to mimic the colors of the tumbled rocks felt perfectly placed.

Blue butterfly pea, hibiscus, spirulina and turmeric created beautifully vibrant ice sticks to complement the colorful stones on Moonstone Beach, Cambria, California, September 2020.

The honeycomb banks of sandstone at Moonstone are another fascination of mine that has spurred inspirational curiosity on every trip.  While others leave pebble offerings in the rounded crevices, my donation materialized as ice orbs of frozen hibiscus, spirulina and blue butterfly pea.

Ice orbs mixing with the salty spray of Moonstone Beach honeycomb rocks, Cambria, California, September 2020.

The wind whipped hard on the beach that day, adding to the expressive challenges, but my incredible kids stuck by my side (behind a driftwood shield!) so their free-spirited mom could artfully play.

Love you guys! 

• CAYUCOS

While this beach charmed me with its trove of whole sand dollars, it was the long, slow tide and larger rock outcrops that inspired my icy installations.

The proximity to our house made it an especially great space to experiment with frozen shapes across several days and in different light.

As the tide stretched in and out, tidal pools exposed vibrant sea anemones and their starfish friends. 

The neon glow of the sea anemone at low tide was breathtaking, Cayucos Beach, California, September 2020.

The variation of barnacle formations and mussels on the exposed rocks created intriguing complements to the melting blue cylinders of ice.

Perhaps the most compelling geological feature was a sea stack that brought back memories of an installation adventure in Lofoten, Norway in 2018.

Granite Stack ice installation in Lofoten, Norway is one of my very favorite shots, October 2018.

I made several attempts to capture the essence of Granite Stack, and was treated to a special image in exchange for hours quietly washed away by the California tide.

Mussel Stack ice installation in honor of Granite Stack, Cayucos Beach, California, September 2020.

Stack ‘em deep

Seems that my creative reserves have been happily refilled by my time on the Central Coast, and for that I’m thankful. 

The rush of excitement I felt by collecting fistfuls of sand dollars was immediately followed by a natural impulse to interact with their subtle beauty.

Sorting, stacking and releasing them back to the sea is somehow intertwined with the curiosity that drives my installation practice.

How comforting to know I can bank on this coastal inspiration forever.

The heART of Idaho

In the flow

Sunbeam, an old ghost mining town on the Yankee Fork of the Salmon River, is the geographical center of Idaho.  What a perfect name to describe an area of the world that has been shining it’s light on my heART for 50 years.

Just up the river is a town called Stanley, a mere stone’s throw to Redfish Lake, a place where my family spent many summers exploring the pine forests and mountain trails of the Sawtooth National Forest.  We were like the sockeye salmon of the past, the red fish, returning year after year to splash in its crystal clear waters.

Earth pigment paper pulp installed in Redfish Lake near Stanley, Idaho, August 2019.

If you keep swimming up the Salmon River to the south (yes, it primarily flows north!), the source of its bubbling coolness is hidden near Galena Summit. 

Will always stop at Galena Summit to take this breathtaking view all in!

Carrying tire tubes around our waists and sneakers on our feet, we hunted down the perfect rapids to freeze our bums as we floated our way back towards Stanley.

Now, descending the other side of Galena, you enter the Boulder Mountain Range and the headwaters of the Big Hole River.  Flowing right past Easley Hot Springs, our family’s cabin still stands among the trees, although we haven’t owned it for decades.

The rustic cabin my family owned near Easley Hot Springs where special memories were made.

That doesn’t stop us from still soaking in the mineral pool…

Mason and Zsofi having a soak with their cousins at Easley Hot Springs near Ketchum, Idaho.

Wandering up a nearby forest service road, you find yourself along Boulder Creek in the midst of an aspen grove.  Among all of this endless beauty, however, this place is now where my heART of Idaho truly lies.

Mason out exploring the road that leads to my mom’s resting place near Boulder Creek, Idaho.

Colorfast

There is no doubt that installation would have taken me to Idaho one day, but to create artwork in loving memory of my mom and her resting place was a beautiful honor.  With very little time to prepare, I let the earth be my guide:  organic dyes I brewed from avocado and lichen, natural pigments from around the world and all kinds of stone.

Preparing installation of hand-dipped paper in home-brewed avocado and lichen dye.

As luck would have it, the natural color palette hovered in the ochre and hematite family:  rich yellows, deep oranges and earthy reds.  Ochre has a strong history of being offered to ancestral spirits for their journey in the after-life.  My mom received the same beautiful offering.

Earth pigment paper pulp stacked on a boulder bursting with minerals, Little Redfish Lake, Idaho, August 2019.

Substrates of paper and it’s pulp, ice and river stone held each subtle color that nature provided for my mom.

Ice installation infused with lichen and avocado dye, Big Wood River, near Ketchum, Idaho, August 2019.

Rock on

From Redfish to Boulder Creek, I spent quiet reflective time exploring each site that has brought me so much joy and helped fuel my love of vast landscapes.  My family, however, has always been by my side in Idaho, so sharing an installation that we could build together was the ultimate gift.

Collecting stone from the Salmon River with my loved ones, we each painted a personal creation with mineral pigment to leave by my mom near Boulder Creek.

River stones of the Salmon River collected and ready to paint. Can you see my heART stone?

My family gathered for an evening of river stone painting with earth pigments and walnut oil, Ketchum, Idaho.

Each step along the way held a sacred visual and emotional transformation. 

The uniquely beautiful works of rock art by each member of the Willms Family ready for my mom’s memorial on August 13th, 2019.

The river stones will forever adorn the forest floor at the base of the small pine tree we planted for my mom’s ashes to nurture in the rich Idaho soil.

My mom’s resting place among the pines and aspen of Boulder Creek, Idaho, August 13th, 2019.

I left my heART…

For me, the heART and soul of Idaho is just up the river and over the pass from Sunbeam.   The feel of ice cold water rushing through my toes, the smell of sagebrush warmed by the sun, and the sound of the wind rustling in the trees will always bring me right back.  I’m forever grateful that my mom and her family brought me here so I could fall in love with such an amazing place and leave my creative installation behind.

My heART stone just for my mom, Boulder Creek, Idaho, August 13th, 2019. I love you, Mom!

Now I have the joy of returning to sit quietly with my mom under the whispering aspen and watch as her tree grows towards the deep blue sky.

Peru Rocks

Stone age

Peter is my catholic confirmation name, or en francais, Pierre.  While my female classmates chose more traditional saint names like Mary or Theresa, I had to add a dash of creativity to the catechism mix.  If Jesus built his church on the rock of Saint Peter, I argued, it was certainly a name strong enough for me. 

Pierre also means ‘stone’ in French.  Maybe that is why I picked it.  Could I have known then that I simply wanted my spiritual name to reflect the deep connection I have with rocks? 

The rocks in my pocket from Moonstone Beach in California, July 2019.

At about the same age, my daughter, Zsofi, had an equally creative wish, not focused on a spiritual graduation, but the much more secular version of high school commencement. Zsofi requested a trip to Peru as her graduation gift.  Nothing could have made this wanderlust mama prouder!

Zsofi, Devon and Brianna defying gravity above Playa Roja in Paracas, Peru, June 2019.

What I did not realize at the time was that Peru would unearth my love of stone in the most remarkable ways.

Minerality mentality

Massive tectonic shifts and a healthy dose of volcanic rumbling creates some of the most amazing landscapes for this artist.  Welcome to the Andes!

Sabancaya belching her volcanic mist near Patapampa Pass in southern Peru, June 2019.

With over 50 hours of Peruvian bus time logged, my nose spent most of it pressed against the window.  Every mountain pass brought a new and wildly fresh vista for my eyes to feast.

While I’ve always been an avid road trip gazer (will not sleep in a car!), I traveled through the Altiplano with a newly acquired knowledge and pure fascination of earth pigments.

Mineral pigments I foraged and ground near the ancient sea bed of Paracas, Peru, June 2019.

One year ago, I bumped into an incredible creative philosopher and professed mineral pigment worker, or whisperer as I prefer to think of her.  Heidi Gustafson has dedicated her practice to honor the sacred mineral of iron oxide and her earth pigment sister of ochre.  I became increasingly intrigued by her work and thrilled to learn that she lived less than 2 hours away in the great PNW.  When Heidi offered a mineral foraging workshop on Whidbey Island, I jumped at the chance to walk the beach with her to learn how to extract color from yet another one of earth’s natural resources.

Pigments I foraged and ground from Whidbey Island thanks to the mineral genius of Heidi Gustafson, June 2019.

What I learned that day would be exactly what I needed  to begin my first solo quest for earth pigments in Peru.

Pack it out

Installation has become an integral part of my global travel.  Weeks prior to launch, I am feverishly gathering, testing and building materials to create installation while on the road.  With only a backpack and my daughters by my side for our time in Peru, I chose to re-imagine how I would express my creativity on this treasured trip.

All loaded up in Cusco, Peru, with everything I could carry on my back (and front!), July 2019.

As if by magic, a new conceptual plan emerged in the right side of my brain:  installation vs. extraction.  I would explore Peru’s landscape with an open heart, seeking balance of giving and receiving - installing and extracting - the earth as my guide.

In my veins

Pigments on my mind, I chose to install predominantly paper pulp pieces painted in minerals sourced from other regions north of the equator.  With a newly opened eye to identify minerals that had the potential of sharing color, I discovered many places where I could make an installation ‘offering’ as gratitude for the rocks the earth presented to me.

First earth pigment offering at Playa la Mina in the Paracas National Reserve, Peru, June 2019.

What I didn’t expect was the obsession with which I would seek out color in the rocks of Peru.  In many ways, I suppose traveling by bus was a perfect way to curb my enthusiasm, or at least keep me from stopping at every curve in the road to hunt pigment.  Perhaps it gave me the reflective time I needed to practice simply sensing the rifts where color might be ready to mingle with an artist.

Easy to see the earth pigments in the Mountain of 7 Colors, aka Rainbow Mountain, Peru, July 2019.

From the ancient seabed of Paracas to the pinnacle of Vinicunca, the rocky soil gave me yet another incredible palette to sprinkle into my artwork.  The handful of stones I will lovingly grind in the following months will be cherished not only for the subtle colors they will reveal, but also the memories I was lucky enough to forge with my daughters in Peru.

Stones collected along the route to Cusco, itching to have their pigments ground.

Rock ‘n roll

So, yes, I love all things stone, and I have for a very long time.  My grandfather had an incredible rock collection that mesmerized me with their crystalized innards or smoothly polished surfaces.  My best friend, Maggie, recently reminded me of a garnet hunting expedition we took as kids.  Time at the beach often involves taking close up photographs of the pebbles beneath my feet as opposed to the crashing waves.  I even named my son in honor of stone:  Mason.

However, if I’m being totally honest, my catechism name was only coincidentally connected to rocks.  Admitting my name inspiration may have come from a crush I had on the guitarist Pete Townsend of The Who, I’m fairly certain the clergy would not have approved.  Still, it is fun to think I may have a higher calling to be grounded in the world of stone.

Tell me: Do stones rock your world?