Field Finds
An Artful Project
It finally happened. It required assistance, true, but many challenges do. For twenty-five years, I’ve been accumulating art, primarily “wall art,” for pleasure and display. But I had never truly made art… until now.
To tell this tale, I must first provide essential background. I reside on land that has been occupied, on and off, for thousands of years. For example, indigenous peoples have lived in Iowa for more than 10,000 years. Archaeologist date similar activity in Minnesota to 9,000–12,000 years ago. Meanwhile, my Norwegian ancestors have been here only 170 years, less than two percent of this timeframe. While I confess to limited knowledge about Native American life in our region, subtle clues abound in a small field about fifty yards out our front door.
Throughout the two decades we’ve lived here, I’ve walked this field seeking artifacts, a pursuit requiring no special equipment other than a sturdy walking stick. And I’ve filled two “trophy cases” with about 120 prized Native “field finds,” a small fraction of the treasures unearthed during these searches. I also have maybe a thousand Native “chips”… detritus left behind by skilled knappers, shaping obsidian or flint into something useful, often something beautiful. Plus, bones and teeth (cattle? deer? buffalo?), and more recent miscellanea -- shotgun shell casings, horseshoes, hand tools, nails, crockery shards, saw blades.
Over time, pocketsful were transferred into bags and onto shelves: material gathered during an estimated 700+ hours of searching spread over these decades. This all changed in mid-May. A half-dozen years ago, I encountered a compelling museum display created by Pamela Longobardi, a contemporary artist. Her artwork, entitled “Ghosts of Consumption,” consisted of ocean plastic arranged in a large circle affixed to the wall… items she found in Hawaii, Alaska, Greece, Costa Rica, Italy, and the Gulf of Mexico. Why couldn’t I create something similar with my field finds?
Well, there were many reasons, including lack of motivation and creative talent on my part. However, if I could persuade a colleague with an aesthetic eye to collaborate on a vaguely envisioned project, we might jointly create something worthy of merit. I emailed friend Tammas late last summer; my plea for assistance was accepted enthusiastically. So, last month, Tammas and I tackled the task of creating and installing a sizeable display, eight feet tall by twelve feet wide, our wall-space “canvas” expanded by wisely relocating our masterpiece into the garage once spousal doubts surfaced about a prominent wall downstairs.
After considering seven crude concepts (working titles: cornrows, fireworks, diagonals, chaos, random, spiral, and sunburst), Tammas and I zeroed in on an off-center sunburst pattern, augmented with several smaller starbursts. Most design credit belongs to my colleague. His gentle approach and ability to see this project through -- which includes helping focus his collaborator! -- deserve high praise.
My objective emerged as our efforts progressed: an artistic, archeological statement, a strongly local focus / “storyline” (objects found within 500 yards), respectful of Native American culture, and reflective of modest immigrant lives that preceded mine. The completed installation fulfills my desire for something distinctive and “gorilla-glue permanent,” in hopes I can proudly gaze upon this wall for many years to come.
I’ve embedded a photo of our accomplishment, while noting a visitor’s comment, “It’s even better in person!” (Call please before stopping by.) As you can see, artifact “streams” swell and taper, flowing outward from a core. Intermittent lines of immigrant debris suggest the passage of time as technology advances: shotgun shells replace arrowheads, a jumper cable succeeds horseshoes, hunting indicators yield to farming indicators. The outcome exceeded initial expectations. Collaboration generated a far better result than might have been created individually.
With notable help, I can now claim being an artist, albeit at a beginner’s level. I have ample material for several comparable projects, but artists rarely repeat, right? I’m not quite sure about this, since only very recently did I finally become an artist.
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I’m pleased to be a member of the Iowa Writers Collaborative.
Your work is stunning, Kurtis. Thank you for sharing the art and the story.