My final piece will be a 16 x 20 inch acrylic painting, framed and ready to hang. The image depicts a woman in nature holding the head of a deer, with foliage breaking through the frame and extending outward. The woman and deer appear to emerge from the leaves, blurring the line between human and natural forms. The finished work may include elements of death, but its central focus is on transformation and the interconnectedness of life within the natural world.

My contemplative practice is rooted in consistent, quiet attention to the natural world. Gardening, walking local trails, and pausing to draw or write have become daily rituals that keep me present to the rhythms of the land. These practices inform my work by grounding it in lived observation rather than abstraction. As I develop this project, I focus on slowing down enough to notice small details—shifts in light, insects at work, patterns in growth and decay—and letting those observations shape both visual and written responses.

Much of my engagement with this project has taken place along local waterways: the Roanoke River, Tinker Creek Greenway, the Pigg River, and Back Creek. I’ve walked these spaces, taken photographs, and shared the experiences with my children, paying attention to how both they and I are affected by the landscape. Observing wildlife, plants, and seasonal changes in these areas has provided both subject matter and a deeper awareness of the interconnectedness of local ecosystems. These direct encounters with place are shaping how I approach the themes of the project.

I’ve been listening to Annie Dillard’s Pilgrim at Tinker Creek while reflecting on my own experiences outdoors. One passage in particular has stayed with me:
“And just as I looked at him… he slowly crumpled and began to sag. The spirit vanished from his eyes as if snuffed… he was shrinking before my eyes like a deflating football… The frog I saw was being sucked by a giant water bug.”
This description made a strong impression on me, not only because of its vivid detail but also because of its honesty. It reminded me that nature is not simply beautiful or peaceful—it also contains moments that are unsettling, harsh, and outside human ideas of morality. That recognition has influenced the direction of my work, prompting me to hold both the striking and the difficult aspects of nature together in the same frame.

The primary question guiding me at this point is: How can my work hold space for the complexity of nature—its beauty, its violence, and its resilience—without reducing it to metaphor or sentiment? I’m also considering how to create work that not only reflects my own observations but also invites viewers to think about their relationship with these same landscapes.

I’ve learned that the process of close attention—whether walking, photographing, or reading—changes the way I experience familiar places. I notice more when I return often, and those repeated visits shift how I think about presence and observation. Engaging with Dillard’s text has reinforced the value of approaching nature without expectation, allowing it to be what it is rather than what I want it to be. Including my children in these visits has also reminded me that different perspectives enrich the experience and open new ways of seeing.

N/A

DCJ Okay to pay
$500
300065-2010
Percent for Art
9/24/25