"Then and Then and Then Again" by Lynn Mckenzie
Acrylic on cradled wood panel
14’’ by 11’’
A few years ago, I took part in a week-long on-site workshop where we recreated the ancient ceramic techniques of Native North Americans who once lived in the Midwest. The intensive took place at the flood-prone Center for American Archeology in Kampsville, Illinois, only fifteen miles from the confluence of the Illinois and Mississippi Rivers. We gathered all our materials by hand, always reciting the Anishinaabe prayer of gratitude to Mother Earth with each harvest of clay. When we ran out of shell temper, I volunteered to go get more since I was the only person who had driven to the Center. The directions I was given were simple: “Go where there used to be houses.” The experience sparked a lasting interest in how memory is embedded in the landscape, especially in the culturally defined ways we perceive different layers of the past—be it the remote, distant, recent, or immediate past—and how they interact with the present. This painting reflects my interpretation of that intersection of memory and natural processes. Viewed from a high perspective, it traces a long arc from the earth’s shadowy remote past across a vibrant landscape, finally reaching the remnants of a built environment. The piece aims to visually express the slow passage of time layered in space.
Acrylic on cradled wood panel
14’’ by 11’’
A few years ago, I took part in a week-long on-site workshop where we recreated the ancient ceramic techniques of Native North Americans who once lived in the Midwest. The intensive took place at the flood-prone Center for American Archeology in Kampsville, Illinois, only fifteen miles from the confluence of the Illinois and Mississippi Rivers. We gathered all our materials by hand, always reciting the Anishinaabe prayer of gratitude to Mother Earth with each harvest of clay. When we ran out of shell temper, I volunteered to go get more since I was the only person who had driven to the Center. The directions I was given were simple: “Go where there used to be houses.” The experience sparked a lasting interest in how memory is embedded in the landscape, especially in the culturally defined ways we perceive different layers of the past—be it the remote, distant, recent, or immediate past—and how they interact with the present. This painting reflects my interpretation of that intersection of memory and natural processes. Viewed from a high perspective, it traces a long arc from the earth’s shadowy remote past across a vibrant landscape, finally reaching the remnants of a built environment. The piece aims to visually express the slow passage of time layered in space.
Acrylic on cradled wood panel
14’’ by 11’’
A few years ago, I took part in a week-long on-site workshop where we recreated the ancient ceramic techniques of Native North Americans who once lived in the Midwest. The intensive took place at the flood-prone Center for American Archeology in Kampsville, Illinois, only fifteen miles from the confluence of the Illinois and Mississippi Rivers. We gathered all our materials by hand, always reciting the Anishinaabe prayer of gratitude to Mother Earth with each harvest of clay. When we ran out of shell temper, I volunteered to go get more since I was the only person who had driven to the Center. The directions I was given were simple: “Go where there used to be houses.” The experience sparked a lasting interest in how memory is embedded in the landscape, especially in the culturally defined ways we perceive different layers of the past—be it the remote, distant, recent, or immediate past—and how they interact with the present. This painting reflects my interpretation of that intersection of memory and natural processes. Viewed from a high perspective, it traces a long arc from the earth’s shadowy remote past across a vibrant landscape, finally reaching the remnants of a built environment. The piece aims to visually express the slow passage of time layered in space.