Search Results

On this Valentine’s Day, we take a look at the love story between Ben Cherbonno and Helen Gookins. This pair of settlers met in the Antelope Valley in the early 1900s, and celebrated their 50th anniversary at the time the highlighted article was written (Figure 1). When the couple met in 1907, the area was still mostly rural. At the time, Ben was a 21-year-old freighter who hauled borax from the mines to the railroad in Lancaster. Helen, who had moved to the Antelope Valley in 1892, was a young woman who loved to ride horses and explore the desert. Figure 1: Original Newspaper Clipping of the 20-Mule-Team Love Story (Object ID #2024.FIC.203) MOAH Collections. In the article, Ben retells the story of him falling in love at first sight, feeling sure he was going to marry Helen at their very first meeting. Four months of courting, school dances, and multiple desert adventures later, the two tied the knot. Their marriage would hold true and bring the couple children, grand-children and great-grandchildren. Throughout the story they recount many happy memories, such as the signal for Helen to ride out when she heard the sound of approaching bells from Ben’s mule team. Or the way Ben would ask to borrow a horse and buggy to go out to see Helen. Ben also remembers the time he convinced Helen to travel part ways with him to the mines, and Helen’s agreement even though she knew she would have to solo-ride for 16 miles through mountainous trails to get home. Such tales indicate their deep desire to be in each other’s company. Ben and Helen's love story is a testament to the power of love and commitment, withstanding the tribulations of time and distance. They were able to build a strong and lasting relationship despite the challenges they faced. The article reads: “GOLDEN ANNIVERSARY 20-Mule-Team Days Love Story Recalled The bells on Ben Cherbonno’s 20-mule team echoed on the wet October air as he freighted his load of borax over the rain-slick road toward Lancaster. Sound carries in mountain country. At Neenach, stopover point for stagecoach and covered wagon, the prettiest girl in the Antelope Valley heard a secret message in the distant jingling. Her dark eyes were bright as she saddled her horse and rode out to meet her bridegroom. Last month, 50 years and five great-grandchildren later, Ben Cherbbonno and Helen Gookins celebrated their golden wedding anniversary. But the fabric of their romance is still bright proof that for dash and color the senior members of the Southland family can match their courtships against any of the jet age. Rides Recalled Helen Gookins came to Antelope Valley in 1892 when range grass grew knee-deep and carpets of blue lupin and Indian paintbrush spread to the horizon. She remembers the wild rides across the desert when her horse took the bit in his teeth and plunged off after herds of wild antelope. Ben Cherbbonno can’t remember the first time he rode in a freight wagon – all he knows is that at 10 he could drive a six-horse team. He was 21 and an old hand in 1907 when he and his brother were running two of the big 20-mule teams hauling borax from the mines west of Gorman to the railroad in Lancaster. Helen always knew when it was time to ride out to the forks to meet Ben’s rig. Every one of his mules wore bells collected from the lead teams of less skilled drivers whom he had to haul out of trouble. He never got stuck himself – those mules of his were among the best in the business, trained on command to put all their power into the pull at the same moment. He trusted them so much that all he had to do was yell out their names to get them around sharp mountain curves. Courtship Told Ben made up his mind to marry Helen the first time he saw her. It took him only four months, courting by borrowed horse and buggy, sometimes a dance at the schoolhouse where a fiddle, guitar and 50 people meant square-dancing and waltzing until dawn. Later he talked her into tying her little sorrel horse to the back of the borax wagon and riding with him part way. From Gorman she made the 16-mile return trip alone, racing by horseback along a short cut through the mountains. It was storming the October night they slipped away from the schoolhouse dance to be married. The buggy wheels mired in the mud, and the 3 a.m. train for Los Angeles was five hours late. They sat on a hard bench at the Lancaster depot and stared at the fat, round wood stove, planning their future. At Ben and Helen Cherbbonno’s anniversary party last month, a scale model borax wagon on the mantel carried a miniature man and a girl with a bright orange scarf over her head. Behind them trailed a tiny sorrel horse." If this story interests you, we encourage you to learn more about local history by visiting the Western Hotel Museum at 557 W Lancaster Blvd, Lancaster, CA 93534, operating hours on Friday, Saturday and Sunday from 11:00 AM – 4:00 PM. References 20-Mule-Team Days Love Story Recalled. (ca.1957). [Clipping from an unidentified United States, newspaper}. Copy in possession of the Museum of Art History Collections Department.

In celebration of the holiday season, we look back on how Christmas traditions developed in the United States during the 19th century. The Western Hotel Museum with newly installed Christmas decorations Prior to 1874, and the Southern Pacific Railroad, Lancaster did not exist beyond a train stop from Bakersfield to the metropolis of Los Angeles (MOAH Collections). Like the first American migrants, settlers from many diverse countries would make their way to the city, hoping to establish their own businesses and lives. In approximately 1888, the Western hotel came into existence, at that time known as the Antelope Valley Hotel. The property was sold to Englishman George Webber in 1908 who had come to the United States in 1885. Myrtie Eveline Gibson Sullivan would also move to the Antelope Valley in 1908. Myrtie would marry George and come to own the Western hotel from the 1930s –1960s (MOAH Collections). During the 19th century, American Christmas time looked a bit different from what we know today. The Western Hotel in 1914 (MOAH Collections, 2023.FIC.351) George and Myrtie Webber on a Snow Day in Lancaster in 1914 (MOAH Collections, 2023.FIC.352) According to Penne Restad from History Today , in the early 1800s, Americans didn’t think of Christmas as a national holiday. Many colonial settlers came from diverse European cultures and religious traditions. The New England Puritans for example, did not practice having decorations or a tree for Christmas. If Christmas was celebrated, it was done very modestly, with no emphasis on décor (Khederlan and Restad). Whereas Southerners, who were influenced by the royalist culture of Victorian England, would celebrate for multiple days, holding feasts (Mackinac State Park). By the middle of the 19th century, communication and transportation increased in America. The economy became more fast-paced, and the population and country’s size itself increased. Tensions between Americans would grow, and the Union became increasingly more unstable. Restad suggests that this fast-paced and overwhelming change caused Americans “to long for an earlier time, one in which they imagined that old and good values held sway in cohesive and peaceful communities”. People wanted a unified national tradition (Mackinac State Park). It was during this time that Americans took to Christmas, and it grew into a more widely celebrated holiday event, with old themes and new ideas ascribed to the holiday. By the 1850s, most Americans adopted the German custom of the Christmas tree. Early Christmas trees had more simple decorations such as strings of popcorn, oranges, lemons, and candies. Small gifts of were hung and given to children. In 1848, the Illustrated London News published a drawing of Queen Victoria and Prince Albert having a Christmas tree on their table. The tree tradition was brought to England by Prince Albert from Germany, which spurred the tradition in England and the image was widely produced in the United States, helping spread the popularity of the Christmas tree (Starmans). Illustrated London News’ 1848 drawing of Queen Victoria and Prince Albert’s Christmas tree (Khederlan, Courtesy of Creative Commons) Published in the English Stonehaven Journal on January 9, 1849 is a description of a Victorian Christmas tree, which held many delights (Starmans): THE CHRISTMAS TREE AT WINDSOR CASTLE. A Christmas tree is annually prepared, her Majesty’s command, for the royal children. The tree employed for this festive purpose is a young fir, about eight feet high, and has six tiers of branches. On each tier or branch are arranged dozen wax tapers. Pendant from the branches are elegant trays, baskets, bonbonnie’es and other receptacles for sweetmeats, of the most varied and expensive kind, and of all forms, colours, and degrees of beauty. Fancy cakes, gilt gingerbread, and eggs filled with sweetmeats, are also suspended try variously, coloured ribbons from the branches. The tree, which stands upon table covered with white damask, is supported at the root by piles of sweets a larger kind, and by toys and dolls of all descriptions, suited to the youthful fancy, and to the several ages of the scions of royalty for whose gratifications they are displayed. The name of each recipient is affixed to the doll, bonbon, other present intended for it, so that no difference of opinion in the choice of dainties may arise to disturb the equanimity the illustrious juveniles. On the summit of the tree stands the small figure of an angel, with outstretched wings, holding in each hand wreath.” The tradition of Christmas cards, the singing of carols in public, and cooking large meals for your friends and family emerged (Khederlan). The first mention of Santa Claus appears in an 1823 poem “A Visit From St. Nicholas” by Celement Moore and the first documented Santa impersonator in America was in Philadelphia in 1849. Christmas would become a legal holiday in Massachusetts in 1856 (Mackinac State Park). Shortly after, the Civil War began in 1861 and ran until 1865. The Civil war intensified the celebration of Christmas in that the holiday was a time to celebrate peace and family, and soldiers would be leaving theirs behind at war (Restad). By the 1870s, with the reconstruction of the US underway, the marketing of Christmas would take off. Newspapers and women’s magazines would suggest a greater sophistication of Christmas trees, with value placed on the uniformity and style of the tree. Christmas trees became the centerpiece of Christmas décor, as a place for the display of beautiful balls, stars, and more. Department stores would sell all kinds of goods, with ornaments imported from Germany sold in stores (Restad). Instead of making homemade ornaments, there was a pressure to buy them. At this point, the commercialization of Christmas looked more like it does today. It was during the 1870s and 1880s that gift giving would also take off. Restad suggests that gift giving was a sign of the bustling economy, but also a means of Americans promoting relationships with each other. Prior, giving small hand-made presents was common, but the need for wrapping and purchasing presents was promoted later during this time. These practices demonstrated not only materialism, but kinship and community. It was around this time that Lancaster was established. In 1900, it was estimated that one in five Americans had a Christmas tree (Redstad). Below is a glass negative plate of the Wright brothers’ Christmas tree in their Ohio home in December of 1900, three years before their famous flight. Many gifts can be seen below the tree. Christmas tree in the home of Wilbur and Orville Wright at 7 Hawthorn Street in Dayton, Ohio in 1990 (Shorpy The American Historical Photo Archive) With Myrtie and George running the Western hotel around this time in the early 1900s, it is likely that their halls were fully decked. These practices are reflective of what many Americans and Lancaster inhabitants do today, indicating that our holiday traditions are deeply rooted in the past. For the rest of this month, the Western Hotel Museum will be decorated for Christmas. Works Cited Khederlan, Robert. “How Christmas decorations evolved through the 1800s It’s time to deck the halls”, Curbed , December 9, 2016. How Christmas decorations evolved through the 1800s - Curbed Mackinac State Historic Parks. “America’s 19th Century Christmas Traditions: A Connection Between the Past and Present”, December 20, 2019. America's 19th Century Christmas Traditions: A Connection Between the Past and Present - Mackinac State Historic Parks | Mackinac State Historic Parks (mackinacparks.com) MOAH Collections. “The Western Hotel Museum Self-Guided Tour”and 2023.FIC.351-353 images. e60af9_b024f49c353d4f74af2eb165975c6b8d.pdf (lancastermoah.org) Restad, Penne. “Christmas in 19th Century America”, History Today Volume 45 Issue 12, December 1995. Christmas in 19th Century America | History Today Shorpy The American Historical Photo Archive, Image of Wright brother’s Christmas tree from December 1900. Christmas With Wilbur and Orville: 1900 | Shorpy Old Photos | Framed Prints ). Starmans, Barbara J. “Old Time Christmas”, The Social Historian. Old Time Christmas - The Social Historian

If you’ve done your fair share of exploring in the Mojave Desert, you may have come across some odd things – maybe, perhaps, even a mummified animal. When people think of mummification, typically the pharaohs of ancient Egypt come to mind, but the process of mummification can happen naturally in dry environments as well. Some use the term “mummy” to refer to bodies that are deliberately embalmed in chemicals, but the term has been applied to accidental/naturally made mummies since the early 17th century ( New English Dictionary on Historical Principles ). A mummy can be defined as a dead human or animal whose soft tissues and organs have been preserved by either intentional or accidental exposure to chemicals, extreme cold, low humidity, or a lack of air. To understand how mummification occurs, it is important to first understand the process of decomposition. Decomposition begins at the time of an animal’s death and is caused by two factors known as autolysis and putrefaction. When an animal dies, the heart stops, and blood can no longer supply oxygen or remove carbon dioxide from the tissues. This causes an animal’s cells to break down, which releases cellular enzymes. These enzymes can break down the other surrounding tissues and cells in the body. This process is called autolysis- in which the body’s own enzymes begin breaking down the body (Dominguez). After death, there is a small amount of oxygen still present in the body. This oxygen is sought after and used up by cellular metabolism and microbes that are naturally found in the body, such as in the intestinal tracks. This leads to the growth of more organisms, which consume what carbohydrates, proteins, and lipids are available in the body thus breaking it down further. This process is called putrefaction (Dominguez). Later, other decomposers such as bacteria and scavengers such as insects, coyotes, vultures, and crows can break down the body further, aiding in its decomposition (Gibbon, National Geographic). Bodies that are mummified do not go through this entire process. When exposed to the right conditions, putrefaction does not occur as bacteria are not able to grow and survive. In purposeful mummification, the body is often treated with embalming chemicals which repel insects and slow down the putrefaction process by killing bacteria already in the body or by stopping the cells from becoming a nutrient source for other bacteria to consume (Dominguez). Naturally, remains can be mummified in both cold and hot temperatures. In very cold environments, the body freezes before bacteria can grow and break down the remains. In dry environments, there is a high amount of heat and a lack of moisture. This heat causes bacteria to die and stops the body from further decay (Dominguez). The Mojave Desert is a prime location for natural mummies to occur, as we have a very hot and dry climate which can prevent bacteria from forming and halt the decomposition process. In addition, other naturally forming mummies have been formed in peat bogs, a type of wetland with a lot of dead plant material or peat occurring in it. The soil in these bogs is acidic and does not have a lot of oxygen- which leads to less bacteria growth and thus less decomposition. At MOAH, we have several mummified animals within our collection. On display at the Western Hotel Museum is a partially preserved Desert Tortoise, which has one of its front feet preserved, scales and all. Found at the Elyze Clifford Interpretive Center is a partially preserved mummified rabbit skull, which has become misshapen and still has some fur present. 2022.FIC.397 Partially mummified rabbit skull from MOAH Collections Perhaps one of the most interesting items is a mummified mouse stuck inside an amber glass bottle. This item was excavated in 1994-1995 by archaeologists when the new Lancaster Sherriff Station was being constructed on the corner of Sierra Hwy and Lancaster Blvd. The bottle is likely from Lancaster residents from the early 1900s. It is likely that the poor mouse ventured inside the bottle looking for water or a sweet treat and was unable to get out. 1996.13.57 Mummified mouse inside glass bottle photo provided by MOAH Collections 1996.13.57 Mummified mouse inside glass bottle video provided by MOAH Collections To learn more about the Mojave Desert environment and the animals and plants that call it home, be sure to visit the Elyze Clifford Interpretive Center at 43201 35th St W, Lancaster, CA 93536. We are open on Wednesdays, Saturdays, and Sundays from 10 am to 4 pm (Closed Holidays). Works Cited Dominguez, Trace. “How Do Mummies Form Naturally? 10,000-year-old mummified lions were recently found buried deep in a glacier. What are the other ways nature takes us back in time?”, Seeker , published on 11/8/2025. How Do Mummies Form Naturally? - Seeker Gibbon, Victoria. “How scavengers can help forensic scientists identify human corpses”, The Conversation. How scavengers can help forensic scientists identify human corpses (theconversation.com) MOAH Collections. Images of 1996.13.57 and 2022.FIC.397. National Geographic. The Role of Scavengers: Carcass Crunching. The Role of Scavengers: Carcass Crunching (nationalgeographic.org) New English Dictionary on Historical Principles. “Mummy”. A New English Dictionary on Historical Principles: Founded Mainly on the Materials Collected by the Philological Society : James A. H. Murray : Free Download, Borrow, and Streaming : Internet Archive.

Adriana Orozco < Back Diary of Letitia By Adriana Orozco I am a plant, I have long branches and multiple leaves, I live in a big house, but I’m stuck in the dining room corner. I sit there all day with some water next to my pot. Though I come from a faraway place, a place call Ikea. But being at a place called Ikea was a nightmare; my past was a whole nightmare. But the past is the past. My slender leaves are everywhere; sometimes, it blocks me from seeing the small glimpse of the sun. It reminds me of hair, like a human’s hair. The family that lives in this house all have hair, but sometimes I wish my leaves were thin and long like the women. But not curly hair like one woman from the household, wasp, and spiders can fly into that mess. Though sometimes I wish I can have a chance in a personal change. A change of appearance, a change from my life, I want a new life. A house plant is boring; I sit there all day and sit there all day. Sometimes it is nice when there is food in the air to breathe into, but there is no use in being a plant; I wish to explore and travel! The only time I traveled was to enter this house that I have been there for too long. Like my past brought me here, and I am ungrateful for that. But I still long for a change in my life. I want to be different; I want to change the world, I want to learn how to write, but all I am is a plant. I am a plant with long branches, with small leaves, that live in a big house that longs for a change, but I am always a plant. Previous Next

Up Peace On Earth Various Artists EXHIBITING ARTISTS: David Adey Tami Bahat Clayton Campbell Catherine Coan Emily Ding Nancy Evans Jane Fisher Matthew Floriani Simone Gad James Griffith Laurie Hassold Chie Hitotsuyama Kim Kimbro Debbie Korbel Laura Larson Emily Maddigan Luke Matjas Zachary Mendoza Jen Meyer Lori Michelon Cynthia Minet Bobbie Moline-Kramer Stephen O’Donnell Lori Pond Robb Putnam Margo Ray Samuelle Richardson Laurie Sumiye Devin Thor Scott Yoell Tami Bahat A deep love for imperfect beauty and the belief that art is in everyone fuel my portraiture. As a conduit to other lifetimes, Bahat constructs stories of the past through the people of her present-day life. This series, Dramatis Personae, has given her a unique opportunity to exhibit her personal connection to history, and to share her deep longing for times that no longer exist. Bahat's father introduced her to the Old Masters when she was very young, which had an indelible impact on her. These artists spoke directly to her heart from hundreds of years away, never needing to utter a single word to explain themselves. This showed that it was possible to convey all kinds of emotion through window light, a quiet moment of reflection or even a simple object. Thus began her transition into painting through the use of a camera. The animals exhibited in this series are real. These beautiful creatures have a mind of their own which she admire and fully embrace. She respect their curiosity about the world, and that they bring immense wonder and unexpected moments to these scenes. She acquired a diverse collection of antique furniture, props and frames that carry their own stories and maintain an authenticity throughout the work. Through these items, a piece of history becomes entwined within a contemporary piece of art. It lifts her soul that their existence continues indefinitely. Clayton Campbell The two pieces in the show Peace On Earth are from a larger series called Wild Kingdom, created in 2014-15, and first exhibited at Coagula Curatorial. The show received a favorable critical response from writers Christopher Knight of the LA Times, Peter Frank in Artillery Magazine, and Lisa Derrick from the Huffington Post. He thinks these writers had interesting observations. Derrick said of his work, "In Wild Kingdom Campbell shows us that as individuals, our dependency on technology blind us to precipices and predators, to each other. We are living vicariously when we look at a diorama, we live vicariously-and allow each other to live vicariously- through social media." Christopher Knight hits the right note when he says "The signal being sent is sardonic-an elaborate engagement with the self absorbed condition of worldly disengagement. Perhaps they're as oblivious to one another as to the predators around them-or to the theatricality of the animals' representation. Who is tracking whom? And what's the difference between the insentient animals, wild or human?" And Peter Frank observes, "Keeping his production values modest-not tacky but not slick, either-Campbell piles the ludicrous on the poignant, pathos on bathos, in a hall of mirrors satire that keeps unfolding long after you've looked at his art works- and maybe taken a selfie with them." Catherine Coan Coan's hybrid taxidermy, installations, collages, Canary Suicides, and dioramas explore the psychological, sexual, and cultural intersections between wilderness, domesticity, and humanity. Imaginary creatures perch on human furniture in domestic spaces; Victorian prints become reflections on the relationship between child, adult, and pet; and jewel boxes translate as modern reliquaries for the saints’ bones of mice, insects, and HO-scale miniatures, all asking the viewer to engage with his or her own animal inside. Her looking glass reveals surprising details and a sense of humor at once dark and life-affirming, inviting the viewer to linger and become part of each tableau and installation. Coan's background in English literature and poetry (I am an English professor and published poet) imbues her work with literary reference and even some of her own writing. Nancy Evans The sculptures grow out of the bodily suggestions of plants. The figurative characteristics distorted by a construction process which pieces together various organic textures to form a whole. The stitched together appearance of the sculptures make sense; like the husks left behind by the transient body, they are both solid and illusionary. These sculptures anticipated a movement in contemporary sculpture that is totemic, crude, violent, and timeless. Archaic concepts, such as animism, infuse these works, suggesting that natural forms are the common thread that link the world to the collective unconscious. So the question that she ponders is where do images come from? How do es she track her influences? What does she understand and what does she misrepresent? James Griffith The ambition of the large painting, CORPUS COLLOSUS, is to imply that all living creatures are a part of one whole fluid process. The composition is held together by a gesture that suggests the double helix of a DNA molecule. The painting is populated by a range of animals that includes a fox/rabbit push-me-pull-you to represent process of Natural Selection, the primary force in evolution of species. The conceptual framework of the piece is further aided by the medium with which it is painted: tar. The tar is collected from the La Brea Tar Pits. To make his own asphalt um paint from this tar, he added thinners and stabilizers. His interest in tar is not only its unusual appearances, but also in the ideas associated with it. Tar is a primordial residue of extinct organisms concentrated by geological process over millions of years. Using tar as a substitute for traditional paint, places my images in the context of deep time so that his subjects can be considered in relation to the long cycles of evolution and extinction. Tar is also a type of the petrochemicals used to fuel our economies, a process at the heart of our contemporary ecological crisis. This fact tars the subjects of these works with the potential of their own extinction. Debbie Korbel Everyone knows what it is like to lie on their back and “see” images in the clouds. When she was a child, she would see images not only in the clouds but in many circumstances. The random patterns of linoleum flooring, plaster ceilings or even the way shadows fell across a wall would suggest figures or landscapes to me. As an adult, she approaches her sculpture materials the same way by standing back and looking for what she “see” emerge. She creates her assemblage sculptures by using the original sculpted elements combined with an assortment of objects she has collected. Often the initial impetus for the sculpture occurs when she finds some interesting fragment of metal or wood. Then an idea takes root and evolves from that “catalyst” piece. Every sculpture is like a puzzle for which she finds and fit each seemingly unrelated piece together in its most expressive form in order to create something new. Luke Matjas Over the past several years Matjas has developed a body of work that seeks to uncover the relationship between natural and unnatural histories. These explorations are largely representational, but far from traditional. Quite often his work looks like a cross between a natural history museum and the local Home Depot. More recently, these explorations have taken shape in a project called “Trail Work,” a series of vividly colored and crisply drawn trail signs inspired by time spent outside in open spaces. In many ways, these rambling little pieces are the result of literal rambles—in nearby mountains, through the scars of recent wildfires, and amidst fierce deserts. As a trail ultrarunner, he sometimes travel quite far on foot, and many of the visual cues found in this series are the result of direct encounters with regional flora, fauna, and geology. “Trail Work” combines a longtime interest in the aesthetics of scientific illustration, signage, and the irreverent renderings of skateboard graphics. These clean, sharply stylized pieces seem to stand in contrast to the gritty surroundings they portray, but there is a sense of immediacy in the graphic, hard-edged language. Although these trail signs are unconventional, they are still functional and directional. They seem ideally suited for the intersection of the expanding wildland-urban interface—they hint at the ecological fragility of our environment, and the not-so subtle ways we continue to impact our surroundings. Jen Meyer This triptych stems from a melding of two complimentary, yet individual, bodies of ongoing work from the artist. In one series, Meyer explores our traditional understanding of and relationship with animals. For this exhibition, her focus is on animals native to the Antelope Valley area: the coyote, the hare and the disappearing antelope. In the other series, Meyer explores the ways roses have been used to communicate to each other, both the living and those long since passed. Roses have since ancient times been left on gravestones as a symbol of regeneration. Merging these two bodies of work together for the first time for this exhibition, the viewer is left with a testament to the depiction of the natural impact of the human condition on ourselves, our planet, and our cohabitants in the plant and animal kingdoms. Laurie Michelon Pippa is from a series (Galaxial Gamines) where I sought to engage the viewer in a conversation about the clothing choices we all make everyday before going out to face the world. Pippa is an alien/human hybrid in haute couture and she represents us as well as our hidden selves - do we use clothing to hide? Provoke? Be admired? To belong? I believe it's all that and more. Cynthia Minet Migrations is an immersive installation of six illuminated sculptures of the Roseate Spoonbill. Carefully constructed of brightly colored plastics, LED lights and sound, the installation combines whimsy, serious social and political commentary, and a deep commitment to the preservation of our natural environment. First presented at the IMAS in McAllen, Texas, Minet's interpretations of the aquatic bird are intended as artistic surrogates for human experiences in the region. Native to the Southeast coastal regions, the Roseate Spoonbill migrates all the way to South America, and the Audubon Society considers this bird an indicator of the environmental health of the Gulf Coast. Minet’s sculptures are based on close study of the bird’s anatomical structure with a result that is highly realistic yet painfully fantastical. Additionally, artifacts found along the border with Mexico such as ear buds and Homeland Security bags are imbedded into the sculptures of Migrations. Motion-activated sounds of bird calls and footsteps enhance the viewer's experience. The use of found materials, whether migrant dropped or sourced from recycled household objects, expresses the underlying meanings of the installation. Through these discarded objects, Minet explores both the risks migrants take to escape intolerable situations and the specter of plastic which slowly erodes in our landfills but never disappears. Given the worldwide migrant crisis, Migrations is strikingly timely in its exploration of the complex social and political issues of borderlands, whether in the United States or worldwide. It is a conceptually and politically astute body of work that exudes a wry hope for our future: that we will commit to the care of our natural and human worlds. Stephen O' Donnell Throughout my career, animals - squirrels, dogs, monkeys, birds, mice - have played a frequent supporting role in his work; always an enlivening - humorous, tender - addition. In recent years, though, they've often begun to take center stage. This body of work explores the confrontation between the simplicity of Nature and the extreme artificiality of the most precious of our human craft: wild or mostly wild animals juxtaposed with fine jewelry, Nature versus the highest level of civilization. In most of these paintings my opposing "objects" - the animal and the jewel - are placed on a sort of stage: a simple wooden platform and a plain, flat background. An animal's imperatives are food, sex, and safety; only very rarely do animals display any impulse for adornment. An emerald necklace has utterly no use to a bird. So it's the unexpected proximity, the tension inherent in these meetings that tells the story; together on stage, in relationship but mutually purposeless. Humans have the striving intelligence and creativity to take shiny rocks, lumps of metal, grains from a seashell, and craft objects so desirable that people have killed one another to possess them. But it's ironic then that we could never assemble anything the equal of a mouse or a bird, never craft the muscle or claw, feather or fur. With all man's greed for beauty, for rarity, how is it so easy for us to overlook the infinitely more precious creation that is any of the seemingly insignificant creatures we share the planet with? Lori Pond When danger flares, what do you do? Since humans first experienced the fight or flight reflex, the subconscious brain has told us what, when, and whom to fear. This remains so. When faced with peril, our bodies respond with intensified adrenaline and racing heart beats. Survival depends on our instantaneous emotional response instructing us to run or stay, a millisecond before our rational self can decide. While our brains have not changed, what we fear has. It is rarely a carnivorous beast that triggers our instinct to run. It is pictures of burning skyscrapers, reports of schoolchildren crouching behind desks to hide from bullets, or a gathering of teens in hoodies that make us tremble: Our 21st Century litany of what to fear. But are these threats real? Pond's series “Menace” challenges us to question what we “know.” “Menace” confronts us with frightening, darkened, wild animals that trigger the ancient instinct, while our rational mind knows we are in a safe, civilized space, viewing images. We look longer, closer, and realize the threat was never there: these are taxidermied animals, their images captured in bright sunlit shops, manipulated later by the artist to ferocity. They frighten, but are impotent. Menace asks us to consider if our modern fears are justified, or if our contemporary bogeymen are figments of our imagination, mere empty threats manipulated by an unseen hand. Margo Ray ‘The Rat and the Octopus’ is a myth told throughout Polynesia that tells the story of an Octopus that was tricked into helping a deceptive Rat. The Rat was adrift at sea and made a deal with an Octopus to be carried safely to shore and in return it would give the Octopus a reward. Instead, it left a pile of dung on its head and ran away, the Octopus felt tricked and angry. Fishermen to this day still play on this anger, making rat-like lures to entice Octopus who still want to avenge the Rat This visual interpretation of the myth deals with contemporary local and global issues of broken agreements and kept promises through the personification of the Rat and Octopus characters; such as climate change, water rights, homelessness and humanities relationship to animals, spirituality and each other. The animals are set on a Polynesian navigation pattern, locating them adrift at sea trying to find their way to shore as well as in Polynesia, where the myth originated. The 10 Handshakes placed on a map key each represent the kept promise and broken agreement in each pair of characters. Samuelle Richardson Richardson sees our attraction to predators as a manifestation of human longing for things that are dangerous and beautiful. She believes that passion is evoked by the things that can annihilate us and shares a fascination for untamed realms, remembering close encounters with disquieting vulnerability. In Ghost Dogs, Richardson depicts wild dogs in the African Bush, isolated from human intervention. This group of sculpture conveys a dichotomy between savage and benign as the structures come together with opposing qualities. The gnarled and rough wood is paired with the crush and pull of fabric as it relates to skin over bone and attention is given to craft while embracing flaws in the material. Stitching the fabric over the finished structure secures it in place and unto itself, the stitching becomes a form of mark making. Most of the materials are found or discarded, such as tree branches and recycled clothing. Richardson’s process involves researching scores of pictures to find those that highlight the animal’s expression and movement. Each structure begins with attention to the skeleton and muscle groups emphasizing the asymmetry of the form. As she works with the pictures in front of her, she strives to create a sense of believability rather than realism, knowing that new information will lead to discovery. Educated in New York, Richardson’s art training ran for more than a decade in a self-directed curriculum. She studied at FIT, Parsons, School of Visual Art and the New York Academy of Art. She entered the industry as a commercial artist and was in charge of developing original artwork for the fashion industry. As for having an impact on her vision, she gives credit to years of travel, seeking venues that upend our everyday sense of normal. Laurie Sumiye - Ohana o Ka Manu Video Sumiye is a Hawai‘i-based artist, animator and documentary filmmaker who investigates environmental tensions between humans and nature. Her background in digital media informs her cross-disciplinary practice in drawing, painting, animation, video, sculpture and installation. She has exhibited her art in New York, Los Angeles, Hawai‘i and internationally, in the UK, South Africa and Brazil and screened her award-winning films at DOC NYC, BAM cinemaFest and PS1MoMA. She has an MFA in Integrated Media Arts from Hunter College, BA & BS in Art and Communications from Bradley University, and studied art at Lorenzo De Medici in Florence and Pratt Institute in New York. She spent 16 years working as an art director and designer in San Francisco, Los Angeles, and New York. She returned to Hawaiʻi to work on her first long-form documentary, A PARADISE LOST, about a Hawaiian bird that sued to save itself from extinction. Laurie serves as Assistant Professor of Creative Media/Transmedia at the University of Hawaiʻi-West Oʻahu. She lives and works in Mililani, Hawai‘i. Devin Thor Thor's newest series of sculptures, Paleolithic Creatures, is an homage to our prehistoric ancestors and the animals they painted on cave walls. Those paintings provide powerful depictions of man's inherent drive to express himself through art. Hidden for millennia, but many looking as fresh as the day they were made, this ancient art shows representational animals that inhabited their world and sustained them with food and clothing. However, at the end of the last glacial period, about 10,000 years ago, the climate warmed dramatically and many Paleolithic animals became extinct. The only history of their ghostly existence are fossils and cave paintings. “With my art, I am inspired…to challenge the viewer to feel the natural spirit of inclusion. There is no corner of this planet that man does not live in, and no corner of which man has not caused change. We must be good stewards of this planet Earth, and remember that extinction is forever.” Scott Yoell Sometimes it came by road, other times it came by sea II This sculpture is composed of a flesh tone replica of Columbus’s mother ship, the Santa Maria. The ship is floating on the backs of bio-morphed rodents with human noses in place of their heads. The work explore the sociological and political weight of ideology, similes of plague and invasive dogmas coexisting in a utopia that has gone wildly wrong. January 26 - April 21, 2019 Back to list

< Back Ellen Friedlander Ellen Friedlander’s photography captures life’s imperfections and fleeting moments through bold, complex imagery. Influenced by over a decade in Hong Kong, her work combines in-camera and post-processing techniques, showcasing her technical expertise and fascination with human presence. From the bustling streets of major cities to intimate portraits, artist Ellen Friedlander’s photography offers a rich tapestry of perspectives. Her artistic practice employs a variety of in-camera and post-processing techniques to reveal a style that is bold, complex, and fueled by a fascination with life's imperfections and fleeting moments. After receiving her Master of Arts in Mass Communcations, Friedlander spent more than a decade raising her family in Hong Kong, a city that deeply influenced her street photography and established her professional technical photographic repertoire. Human presence is key to Friedlander’s work. She believes that a portrait consists of elements beyond a simple objective photograph of a subject. This belief is reflected in the ethereal and intimate visuals contained in her work. Layered long exposures help to create a visually rich and textured quality to her images that seem to transcend any temporal bounds. To Friedlander, this process unlocks the hidden depths of a subject that lies beyond their external façade, allowing an individual’s energy and aura to present themselves within their portrait. Previous Next