Cabinet Oak Project- Contemplation from start to finish

Spring of 2022, on Cafe (Call for entry), I saw a call for the Cabinet Oak Project. The call was to donate work to support the restoration of the Texas White House and start an artist residency program.

The call is a good fit for my work. It perfectly connects my past works, Heritage and Gust, with my present eco-art work and social sculpture. LBJ wore the same Stetson Open Road I used in both pieces and I support the mission of the fundraiser. Interestingly, LBJ often wore his Stetson with the brim flipped up. It is an unusual way to wear a hat and reflects his unique personal and political legacy.

After receiving the acceptance and with the stump in my possession, I studied the history leading to Johnson’s presidency, the state of the country, and his presidential legacy. Contemplation is the result of that research.

The rest of this post follows my process of creating Contemplation.

Contemplation

29.5” X 18” X 14”

Bronze, The Cabinet Oak stump, concrete, paint

Contemplation humbly records the imagined solitary moments of Lyndon B. Johnson. The Cabinet Oak stump, carved with deep thoughts, is paired with his hat and cigar, reflecting flaws and imperfections, bringing to life the knowledge, passion, and determination that shaped 'The Great Society.' A reminder that nature can inspire great acts.

My proposal-

My practice is inspired by researching natural systems in Texas'ecological history that build soil health, absorb water and sequester carbon.

My work reimagines urban landscapes, proposing holistic restoration of ecological balance — awakening urban consciousness to our kinship with living systems and restoring what is lost. Through sculpture and activism, my work incorporates time and movement. Adapting these processes, including organic and living materials, I create works to inspire urban land conservation and therefore extend our time on this planet. I believe that widespread environmental change begins with envisioning (and making visible) the wisdom inherent in the natural world.

I envision taking a rotting stump full of wormholes and marked with evidence of the ecosystem the ancient tree limb once supported as representative of our Texas natural history. I willrest on it as a symbolic witness of the many discussions, arguments, and enlightenment under the great oak. This symbol is a well-worn, cast bronze Stetson Open Road hat, often worn by Lyndon B. Johnson. I have worked in cast bronze hats since 2013. Heritage is in the Houston City Collection. In 2020 I completed Gust, which is on my website. I would be honored to be included and willing to donate 100% of my work to this cause. Depending on the wood, I may cast the stump and hat together.

It is hard to pick the perfect stump to reflect the man, his unique policies, ability to get things done and the ecological history.

I picked a stump with a likely spot that LBJ might have rested his hat on under the shade of the big oak tree.

An employee of the LBJ Ranch Park painted the ends of all the stumps white to prevent insects from nesting in them.

They have not heard that we have entered the Anthropocene and insects are significantly declining and need rotting wood for habitat.

The park could consider implementing a program to provide a habitat for insects. It might be an excellent opportunity here.

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White paint gone -

When cast in bronze, the new hat will reflect the wear and tear of running a ranch in Texas and the mental stress of running a country in the ’60s. The stump is not what I had hoped it would be. The piece needs more. Knowing many men smoke cigars when they go to their ranches and that President Johnson smoked an occasional cigar, I decided to add detail a precariously placed half smoked on a cigar. It will still need more and there is time to figure it out.

I apply wax to the entire surface so the hat will not absorb the slurry that will build the shell. I use a heat gun to milt of the wax to builds up too much and I shape it to show wear.

The bronze cast cigars and hat are ready for chasing. I cast a few cigars so I would have choices.

Metal chasing done. The bronze was so heavy it made the stump tip over. I cut the opposite side under the stump to balance the bronze. It is missing something……..

How can I bring this sculpture to life while capturing the essence of the man, the political climate, and his bond with nature, while still remaining authentic to my artistic style? He was one of our more accomplished Presidents, passing the first bills that address issues we are still struggling with today. I need more research into his policies. That is the detail I need to make the piece meaningful.

I envision Johnson holding meetings beneath the Old Oak, arriving early to ponder and whittle down his ideas into actionable plans, navigating through the complexities of government. I can almost see him, alone in the shade, puffs of smoke escaping his lips carving his best ideas into the heart of the Oak, contemplating every move.

The wood looks too fresh. In order to give it an aged look I watered down an almost empty can of house paint and washed it over the delicate bark.

Next up the patina.

It took fierce passion to pass bills to combat poverty, rejuvenate the environment, and embrace diversity - all while rekindling civil rights and nurturing the arts. The more I work on this piece, the more I love it.

I love research based art. It was a good fit right?

Same Time Next Year

The sidewalks in my neighborhood are my nature trail. I walk with my eyes on the prowl for intriguing insects, exoskeletons, insect wings, feathers, dried flowers, twigs, leaves, seeds, and pods — things my children’s eyes taught me to find during our walks together over the years. Since 2013, these biological mementos have found their way into my bronze work in the molds of nests. Each piece is a reflection of that year’s ecology and records the time and movement of environmental restoration. Initially, I was unaware of the landscape around me, but as my art dove deeper into environmental restoration and Hurricane Harvey changed our city, I realized that my days are, in fact, full of sterile surfaces. With COVID-19 quarantine, children in my neighborhood started venturing outside and looking for things to capture their curiosity. Delighted with their new interest, I realized that the green spaces and puddles children explore now are no longer filled with a diversity of life; the box turtles, bullfrogs, tadpoles, bumblebees, and assortments of flitting insects have evaporated with the spray of insecticides and herbicides in our neighborhoods. The selection is reduced to cicadas, the common beetle, honeybees, a rare native bee, and an abundance of Cuban lizards that dwell in turf grasses, boxwoods, crepe myrtles and oaks. I have awakened to cultural landscape uniformity. COVID has changed how I see the need for perfect lawns; the dirty truth is mosquito home-misting machines, obsessive weed control, artificial turf and a lack of plant diversity have turned urban neighborhoods into manicured monocultures for humans exploring video games. These habitat changes in massive population centers are fast-forwarding evolution: loss of wildlife habitat is one of the biggest threats facing many animal species. This does not have to be—it is a societal choice, the ability to speed up evolution can go both ways. Through my works – Lawndale’s Symbiosis, Endangered Knowledge: The Soul of Humus, Gust, World of Hum, Rumblings and Root to Water—I am committed to creating work that educates and helps communities change how we landscape our cities to include valuing the natural world and turning back the evolution. In Dirt to Soil, Gabe Brown quotes Don Campbell, “If you want to make small changes, change how you do things, if you want to make big changes change how you see.” When I come across intriguing flora or fauna on my urban trail, albeit few and far between, I see them as evidence that can inspire a revolution in the landscape. If they are expired and will not decompose, I collect them. I see these bronze cast nests as urban wildlife fossils—biographies, every year a chapter recording Houston's environmental awakening. As an optimist—environmental—art—activist my work focuses on revealing endangered knowledge to change how we see urban landscapes and activate cooling the planet through our cityscapes. As migratory birds return year after year to build nests and raise their young, I return with optimism in my step. I envision witnessing the return of four hundred plus butterfly species and eight hundred bee species native to Texas. I can see this returned wildlife capturing my future grandkids' imaginations. I will tell them the story of how insects almost disappeared and how every yard is a micro-ecosystem and matters. I imagine their hands building nests with a diversity that I cannot imagine. I hear their voices telling me in one breath about the fuzziest-biggest bee they ever saw, covered in golden dust nesting in a patch of ground beneath the sunflowers not far from the silverleaf nightshade. I see them bringing me a tail-feather from a Red Shoulder Hawk and asking, "what does it hunt" and is it the bird that sounds like the squirrel's screech. After a rain, I see them finding two bullfrogs attached and their tiny ribbons of floating eggs in a pond. I hear them tell me not to touch the caterpillar of the southern flannel moth, and asking me, “how does it sting?”. At the low of evening when dragonflies hover; I will watch as they study the night heron’s quiet solitary stance as it stalks small citizens of the grass, I will smile as they question the raucous warnings of ravens and the scoldings of nut collecting squirrels. I will feel their excitement when neighborhood raccoons appear from storm sewers and scavenge treats from dog bowls and opossums waddle fence lines, searching out grubs and open garage doors. I will follow their eyes when the silent patrol of the lone coyote visits the shadows of our boulevards from their bayou bound dens. I let them sleep outside and hear their heavy eye lids ask, why do the owls ask who? I listen as they wake up to a concert of white-winged doves. I will feel peace when they are wise to nature.

SAME TIME NEXT YEAR 2019

4.75” X 10” X 5.5”

bronze

SAME TIME NEXT YEAR 2018

5” X 9” X 7.5”

bronze

photo by N. Baker

SAME TIME NEXT YEAR 2017

4" X 13" X 8"

bronze

photo by Nash Baker