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June 2018
Interview Lyn Hart |
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Lyn Hart is an award-winning Tucson fiber artist and writer.
She is currently an Arts Fellow at the University of Arizona Desert Laboratory on Tumamoc Hill. |
SAN: Lyn, you started out in Florida and ended up in the Sonoran Desert. What led to your relocation from wet to dry?
Lyn Hart: In late 1996 my husband, Dennis, had an interview and subsequent job offer with Hughes (which later became Raytheon) here in Tucson. We were both ready for a change from northwest Florida and at the time I was working as a labor & delivery nurse, so I knew I could easily get a job in Tucson. I am not actually from Florida; my father was military and had been stationed there. When he had orders to reassign to a new base, I was of an age to stay behind, which I did because I was tired of moving every few years and was ready to be on my own after living in a large family (I had 5 younger siblings). I had visited the Tucson area briefly in the past and remembered how much I liked it. We stayed in Tucson for several days to check out the area when we came for his interview which reconfirmed that feeling for me and for Dennis sparked a desire to live here.
Lyn Hart: In late 1996 my husband, Dennis, had an interview and subsequent job offer with Hughes (which later became Raytheon) here in Tucson. We were both ready for a change from northwest Florida and at the time I was working as a labor & delivery nurse, so I knew I could easily get a job in Tucson. I am not actually from Florida; my father was military and had been stationed there. When he had orders to reassign to a new base, I was of an age to stay behind, which I did because I was tired of moving every few years and was ready to be on my own after living in a large family (I had 5 younger siblings). I had visited the Tucson area briefly in the past and remembered how much I liked it. We stayed in Tucson for several days to check out the area when we came for his interview which reconfirmed that feeling for me and for Dennis sparked a desire to live here.
LHart_Saguaro Oscuro_
SAN: You state on your website that the Sonoran Desert is a major, or more accurately, THE major influence on your work. Tell us about the ways our desert serves as your muse.
LH: I find everything about desert lands to be wondrous, and not just in the Sonoran Desert; I’ve also spent time in Chihauhaun and Great Basin Desert areas. When we moved here from Florida, it was like landing on another planet. I was driven to learn everything I could about it all! Even the lushness of northwest Florida’s environment couldn’t equal what I saw in the desert. During my 23 years in Florida I spent a great deal of time in and around the bodies of fresh and salt water and in the woods and swamps but was never really able to see a large variety of plant and animal life—it is so thick and overgrown there as to be impenetrable in some places and animals have plenty of places to remain unseen.
The openness of the desert basin areas here give me the feeling of simultaneously being in and looking out onto a vast ocean. The amount and variety of animal life I’m able to see on a daily basis right outside my own window still amazes me, and the plants of the desert continue to intrigue me. At first, I wanted to interpret all of these things literally in my tapestries so I took pictures which became the cartoons for my tapestries (a cartoon is a traced design placed behind or under the warp that guides a weaver as shapes and forms are constructed with the weft).
But my work has started to evolve towards a more personal interpretation; now I use my own sketches of a subject for my designing. And I have come to realize that in many ways it is the forms, patterns, subtle gradations and juxtaposition of dark vs. light values which occur in vivid desert light that draw me in.
LH: I find everything about desert lands to be wondrous, and not just in the Sonoran Desert; I’ve also spent time in Chihauhaun and Great Basin Desert areas. When we moved here from Florida, it was like landing on another planet. I was driven to learn everything I could about it all! Even the lushness of northwest Florida’s environment couldn’t equal what I saw in the desert. During my 23 years in Florida I spent a great deal of time in and around the bodies of fresh and salt water and in the woods and swamps but was never really able to see a large variety of plant and animal life—it is so thick and overgrown there as to be impenetrable in some places and animals have plenty of places to remain unseen.
The openness of the desert basin areas here give me the feeling of simultaneously being in and looking out onto a vast ocean. The amount and variety of animal life I’m able to see on a daily basis right outside my own window still amazes me, and the plants of the desert continue to intrigue me. At first, I wanted to interpret all of these things literally in my tapestries so I took pictures which became the cartoons for my tapestries (a cartoon is a traced design placed behind or under the warp that guides a weaver as shapes and forms are constructed with the weft).
But my work has started to evolve towards a more personal interpretation; now I use my own sketches of a subject for my designing. And I have come to realize that in many ways it is the forms, patterns, subtle gradations and juxtaposition of dark vs. light values which occur in vivid desert light that draw me in.
LHart_Earth and Sky_
SAN: You refer to yourself as a fiber artist. Do you primarily work as a weaver or do you work as much in basketry and quilt making?
LH: Back when I was making quilts in the 1980s, most were small and of “traditional” designs. This was before the era of art quilts so they were quite simplistic. I actually had never really learned to sew until I got a job at a local Vanity Fair factory and was trained to work as a production seamstress sewing lingerie. It was kind of a novelty to suddenly be able to sew and so I also made simple clothes for myself since I didn’t have a very big income. But I soon lost interest in sewing as a pastime since the sewing job was very intense and hard.
My first experience with weaving came about a decade later with basketry, which I pursued over a summer break during nursing school while I was still living in Florida. The artist I took lessons from made Southeastern style baskets. However, once my nursing classes resumed, I was consumed and overwhelmed with my education. After getting my RN license and going to work in the hospital, all my time and energy was then centered on polishing my nursing skills. When we moved to Arizona, my work shifts went from 8 hours to 12 and I had to learn about a whole new culture of patients. There wasn’t any time for art making and that style of basketry didn’t seem to belong here so I lost interest in pursuing it.
Back in the early 2000s I had decided to try to go back to school for a BSN. Of course, the University said I needed more electives, and I decided those classes should at least be useful in helping me gain a better understanding of the Southwest and its culture. Southwest Lands and Societies was an archaeology/anthropology class taught by well-known archaeologist Barbara Mills that looked at the origin of man in the Southwest and Mexico from pre-Columbian through contemporary times. In that class I was introduced to Navajo weaving, which really interested me. I had, of course, seen Navajo textiles after relocating to Arizona, but did not understand much about that art form. When it came time to write a paper for the class, I naively thought I would write about them. When I went to the library I was overwhelmed by the stacks upon stacks of books on the subject; Dr. Mills suggested I choose a lesser known subject I could make an argument for. I ended up writing a paper that proposed the mesquite tree was just as, if not more, important for indigenous cultures as the famed corn, beans and squash. However, before changing the focus of my paper, I somehow stumbled upon the very small book written by Noel Bennet, Working With the Wool, which describes in detail how to build a Navajo style loom, warp it and weave a Navajo style rug. I got a copy of the book for myself, built the loom and wove a small rug. I realized I loved weaving with yarn, but I did not like the feeling of copying another culture’s art form. So I did not weave another, but the experience stayed in the back of my mind.
LH: Back when I was making quilts in the 1980s, most were small and of “traditional” designs. This was before the era of art quilts so they were quite simplistic. I actually had never really learned to sew until I got a job at a local Vanity Fair factory and was trained to work as a production seamstress sewing lingerie. It was kind of a novelty to suddenly be able to sew and so I also made simple clothes for myself since I didn’t have a very big income. But I soon lost interest in sewing as a pastime since the sewing job was very intense and hard.
My first experience with weaving came about a decade later with basketry, which I pursued over a summer break during nursing school while I was still living in Florida. The artist I took lessons from made Southeastern style baskets. However, once my nursing classes resumed, I was consumed and overwhelmed with my education. After getting my RN license and going to work in the hospital, all my time and energy was then centered on polishing my nursing skills. When we moved to Arizona, my work shifts went from 8 hours to 12 and I had to learn about a whole new culture of patients. There wasn’t any time for art making and that style of basketry didn’t seem to belong here so I lost interest in pursuing it.
Back in the early 2000s I had decided to try to go back to school for a BSN. Of course, the University said I needed more electives, and I decided those classes should at least be useful in helping me gain a better understanding of the Southwest and its culture. Southwest Lands and Societies was an archaeology/anthropology class taught by well-known archaeologist Barbara Mills that looked at the origin of man in the Southwest and Mexico from pre-Columbian through contemporary times. In that class I was introduced to Navajo weaving, which really interested me. I had, of course, seen Navajo textiles after relocating to Arizona, but did not understand much about that art form. When it came time to write a paper for the class, I naively thought I would write about them. When I went to the library I was overwhelmed by the stacks upon stacks of books on the subject; Dr. Mills suggested I choose a lesser known subject I could make an argument for. I ended up writing a paper that proposed the mesquite tree was just as, if not more, important for indigenous cultures as the famed corn, beans and squash. However, before changing the focus of my paper, I somehow stumbled upon the very small book written by Noel Bennet, Working With the Wool, which describes in detail how to build a Navajo style loom, warp it and weave a Navajo style rug. I got a copy of the book for myself, built the loom and wove a small rug. I realized I loved weaving with yarn, but I did not like the feeling of copying another culture’s art form. So I did not weave another, but the experience stayed in the back of my mind.
I never managed to finish that BSN, and I ended up leaving the hospital to work as a research nurse for a few years, after which time (around 2005) my husband suggested I should stop working as a nurse because he felt I was meant to be an artist. The first thing I did was to register for a natural dyeing class at the Intermountain Weavers Conference in Durango. I knew I wanted to work with fiber and thought that knowing how to dye would be useful no matter what fiber art I chose. The instructor, Jane Hoffman, was also a tapestry weaver, and when I saw images of her tapestries that interpret the landscapes around her home in the Blue River Primitive Area of the White Mountains in northern Arizona, I knew I wanted to become a tapestry weaver. She had a friend, Ann Kueper, who at the time owned the Desert Weaving Workshop here in downtown Tucson and taught tapestry weaving; I started taking classes there and also traveled to Jane’s studio at her home to study with her. After those beginning classes, I took workshops with master tapestry weavers whenever I could and set up my own studio in my home in a spare bedroom. As I was able to obtain bigger looms, we eventually converted our attached garage into my art studio to accommodate my looms and yarns.
LHart_Cactus Wren_
SAN: Your weavings are clearly inspired by the fauna and flora of the desert. Others are desert landscapes. What in particular calls out to you when you see a bird or a cactus and a desert scene that inspires a weaving?
LH: I’m not sure I can actually identify what happens when something inside of me suddenly “clicks” with an immediate desire to interpret something. In the beginning, when I was weaving small tapestries and was interested in being included in local exhibits, a description of an exhibit’s theme (always something to do with our desert environment) in the call for entry would bring an idea rushing into my head and I would start designing something immediately. Everything I’ve read and heard says that’s not really how an artist should work since acceptance into an exhibit isn’t guaranteed, but it worked for me. It compelled me to weave lots of tapestries, learn about meeting deadlines and presenting my work, and gave me the thrill and satisfaction of being included in exhibits. All of which helped to feed my creative fire.
LH: I’m not sure I can actually identify what happens when something inside of me suddenly “clicks” with an immediate desire to interpret something. In the beginning, when I was weaving small tapestries and was interested in being included in local exhibits, a description of an exhibit’s theme (always something to do with our desert environment) in the call for entry would bring an idea rushing into my head and I would start designing something immediately. Everything I’ve read and heard says that’s not really how an artist should work since acceptance into an exhibit isn’t guaranteed, but it worked for me. It compelled me to weave lots of tapestries, learn about meeting deadlines and presenting my work, and gave me the thrill and satisfaction of being included in exhibits. All of which helped to feed my creative fire.
LHart_Growth Agave #3_
SAN: Your collage paintings seem to be deeply influenced by fiber as well. I notice you describe these collage works as having elements of acrylic paint, ink, rust, tea, “found papers” and “distressed papers.” Tells us a little about how these collages are created.
LH: A number of workshop experiences with non-tapestry artists that I took over the last few years in an effort to evolve my design process have influenced me to start making collages, especially those I’ve taken with Daniella Woolf (a tea and rust mark-making workshop through PaperWorks) and collage artists Donna Watson and Crystal Neubauer. At first, I thought the collages could become non-objective designs for tapestry, but I realized I didn’t have the desire to do that because I don’t really like weaving geometric shapes and it felt like the collages wanted to and could exist on their own, which was exciting to me.
One of the things that is so enjoyable about weaving is the tactile nature of the materials that are used; collage feels the same way. I have always been attracted to found objects, old objects that are worn and weathered, rusty things, text. I had actually over time been collecting those kinds of things, old paper and ephemera not really knowing why I was motivated to do so. Donna and Crystal approach their collage design and construction in very different ways; Donna plans her arrangements using specific principles of composition, Crystal works more fluidly and intuitively. The materials they use also differ, but they both compose largely non-objective collages using neutral palettes with juxtapositions of dark and light values. I felt very drawn to their methods, materials and subdued palettes; I feel my collages are a combination of those elements and working methods that reflect my experiences with both artists. I also have begun to create completely neutral collage “bases” from text pages out of old natural history books about the desert and other “plain papers” over which I will draw or paint interpretations of desert subjects.
Making collages is a new direction for me. It allows for a much quicker execution of ideas than tapestry weaving does and I am finding this characteristic also enables me to create series, something which has eluded me in my tapestry weaving and has been a frustration. In working with collage, I have started to realize that my focus has shifted away from literal representation and the desire to work with color. It’s becoming more about both the physical and visual texture of the materials themselves, the interaction between areas of different value, and mark making, all of which I find very compelling. And this change has also begun to affect my tapestry weaving as well.
LH: A number of workshop experiences with non-tapestry artists that I took over the last few years in an effort to evolve my design process have influenced me to start making collages, especially those I’ve taken with Daniella Woolf (a tea and rust mark-making workshop through PaperWorks) and collage artists Donna Watson and Crystal Neubauer. At first, I thought the collages could become non-objective designs for tapestry, but I realized I didn’t have the desire to do that because I don’t really like weaving geometric shapes and it felt like the collages wanted to and could exist on their own, which was exciting to me.
One of the things that is so enjoyable about weaving is the tactile nature of the materials that are used; collage feels the same way. I have always been attracted to found objects, old objects that are worn and weathered, rusty things, text. I had actually over time been collecting those kinds of things, old paper and ephemera not really knowing why I was motivated to do so. Donna and Crystal approach their collage design and construction in very different ways; Donna plans her arrangements using specific principles of composition, Crystal works more fluidly and intuitively. The materials they use also differ, but they both compose largely non-objective collages using neutral palettes with juxtapositions of dark and light values. I felt very drawn to their methods, materials and subdued palettes; I feel my collages are a combination of those elements and working methods that reflect my experiences with both artists. I also have begun to create completely neutral collage “bases” from text pages out of old natural history books about the desert and other “plain papers” over which I will draw or paint interpretations of desert subjects.
Making collages is a new direction for me. It allows for a much quicker execution of ideas than tapestry weaving does and I am finding this characteristic also enables me to create series, something which has eluded me in my tapestry weaving and has been a frustration. In working with collage, I have started to realize that my focus has shifted away from literal representation and the desire to work with color. It’s becoming more about both the physical and visual texture of the materials themselves, the interaction between areas of different value, and mark making, all of which I find very compelling. And this change has also begun to affect my tapestry weaving as well.
LHart_Canyon Tide_
SAN: Your website descriptions of your artist-in-residency stints are very impressive. Your photos are terrific. Your journal is a key element of your experience. What overall influence would you say these residencies at Zion, Glen Canyon, and Grand Canyon have had on your life and your artwork?
LH: I lived in each place for an entire month; as an adult I’ve never lived alone for that length of time. It was interesting to observe myself settle into a day to day pattern that had nothing to do with what anyone else wanted or needed, with the exception of the weekly public programs I was required to do. And it had nothing to do with lounging around; it was about not putting my need to engage with my creativity last after I had satisfied other tasks or obligations for other people or for my home. I would wake up and think “What will I do to inspire my creativity today?”. It was a very enjoyable and liberating experience because I was able to have an extended period of time in which to really think more deeply about and develop a clearer awareness of who I am as an artist, where I find my inspirations, how I go about creating.
I’ve been in workshops in the past where other participants were very prolific in their “output”, creating piles of work. I had always had the feeling something was wrong with my approach to making art because I was lucky if I came away with one or two half completed works during a workshop. The residencies helped me realize I work by initially observing and considering. My approach is very cerebral and selective. I observe, absorb and then usually suddenly pinpoint what I want to do. Then I will spend a good deal of time developing my idea, usually in my head and also at times researching something if I don’t have a good working knowledge about it. That is followed by beginning to implement and create. If I’m creating something representational, I might dive right into it or perhaps make only one or two sketches to visualize it. I also at that time had begun having a deep desire to become more abstract in my work because I felt that would express more deeply the inspiration I felt that made me want to create a work in the first place.
Photorealism was becoming boring for me. A large part of this desire was sparked by my time studying and corresponding with my tapestry weaver mentor, Silvia Heyden (my studies with her coincided with the time period just before, during, and shortly after I had my residencies; she died in early 2015). Her art education was at the Zürich School of Art, which embraced Bauhaus tenets of design. Her tapestries reflected this approach, especially her Eno River series. I became aware that even though she didn’t do lots of preliminary drawings or sketches of the river, she spent a great deal of time observing the river and thinking about it over time, over years. Being exposed to her work and aesthetic really struck something inside of me; I began to realize that simply copying my own photos in handwoven tapestry was no longer satisfying because I wanted more personal expression in my work.
LH: I lived in each place for an entire month; as an adult I’ve never lived alone for that length of time. It was interesting to observe myself settle into a day to day pattern that had nothing to do with what anyone else wanted or needed, with the exception of the weekly public programs I was required to do. And it had nothing to do with lounging around; it was about not putting my need to engage with my creativity last after I had satisfied other tasks or obligations for other people or for my home. I would wake up and think “What will I do to inspire my creativity today?”. It was a very enjoyable and liberating experience because I was able to have an extended period of time in which to really think more deeply about and develop a clearer awareness of who I am as an artist, where I find my inspirations, how I go about creating.
I’ve been in workshops in the past where other participants were very prolific in their “output”, creating piles of work. I had always had the feeling something was wrong with my approach to making art because I was lucky if I came away with one or two half completed works during a workshop. The residencies helped me realize I work by initially observing and considering. My approach is very cerebral and selective. I observe, absorb and then usually suddenly pinpoint what I want to do. Then I will spend a good deal of time developing my idea, usually in my head and also at times researching something if I don’t have a good working knowledge about it. That is followed by beginning to implement and create. If I’m creating something representational, I might dive right into it or perhaps make only one or two sketches to visualize it. I also at that time had begun having a deep desire to become more abstract in my work because I felt that would express more deeply the inspiration I felt that made me want to create a work in the first place.
Photorealism was becoming boring for me. A large part of this desire was sparked by my time studying and corresponding with my tapestry weaver mentor, Silvia Heyden (my studies with her coincided with the time period just before, during, and shortly after I had my residencies; she died in early 2015). Her art education was at the Zürich School of Art, which embraced Bauhaus tenets of design. Her tapestries reflected this approach, especially her Eno River series. I became aware that even though she didn’t do lots of preliminary drawings or sketches of the river, she spent a great deal of time observing the river and thinking about it over time, over years. Being exposed to her work and aesthetic really struck something inside of me; I began to realize that simply copying my own photos in handwoven tapestry was no longer satisfying because I wanted more personal expression in my work.
Lyn Hart at Zion National Park
SAN: Please tell us a little about how one becomes an artist-in-residence. What was asked of you as an artist-in-residence?
LH: All of my residencies were in National Parks; the application process and requirements were similar for all three that I had, but I can only speak to these since I have not had any non-Park residencies. Only certain Parks have AiR (artist-in-residence) programs, so first of all an artist must ascertain whether a Park they are interested in has one. You can usually search the Park’s website using the term “artist-in-residence” to see if something pops up, or look under the Volunteer section of their website. They will have info listed for the application period, procedure and deadline. As an NP AiR, the artist is considered to be a Park volunteer doing a specific job. The application process usually involves submitting one’s contact info, C.V., examples of work, and writing an essay describing what you plan to do with your time in residence and how it will benefit your art practice.
Some Parks have defined themes they want an artist to explain how they will address and that would be included in the essay. Another very big aspect of the Park residency is public outreach and interaction; the AiR is required to do a specified number of hours of public interaction while wearing a Park uniform. The artist must also define within the essay their proposal for what they will do to satisfy that requirement. For my Zion NP residency, the Park had an affiliation with Southern Utah University’s monthly Art Insights program and I had to go there to give a presentation to the art faculty and students about my work and residency experience.
After the residency period is over, the artist must then create a residency related work to donate to the Park’s permanent collection, usually within a six month to one year time frame. While I did have large amounts of free time alone during the one month I spent living in each Park, I also had a great deal of public interaction. I happen to enjoy both that and giving presentations, so I had no problem doing either of those things. However, if you are an artist who does not enjoy interacting with strangers or public speaking and who just wants to hang out creating in seclusion, you should look for another type of residency!
SAN: This is probably the most difficult question. If you were forced to only choose one of these locations for a return visit, which one gets the visit?
LH: Oh, that’s actually very easy; it would be Zion. That was my last residency and the most enjoyable because I pretty much knew what to expect in regards to what would be required of me, the beauty of the canyon, the place I lived was beyond wonderful, and the experiences I had were so sublime. I can’t really put words to it in great detail within the confines of this interview. I think it is best described in the blog journal that I wrote while in residence, which is on my website.
LH: All of my residencies were in National Parks; the application process and requirements were similar for all three that I had, but I can only speak to these since I have not had any non-Park residencies. Only certain Parks have AiR (artist-in-residence) programs, so first of all an artist must ascertain whether a Park they are interested in has one. You can usually search the Park’s website using the term “artist-in-residence” to see if something pops up, or look under the Volunteer section of their website. They will have info listed for the application period, procedure and deadline. As an NP AiR, the artist is considered to be a Park volunteer doing a specific job. The application process usually involves submitting one’s contact info, C.V., examples of work, and writing an essay describing what you plan to do with your time in residence and how it will benefit your art practice.
Some Parks have defined themes they want an artist to explain how they will address and that would be included in the essay. Another very big aspect of the Park residency is public outreach and interaction; the AiR is required to do a specified number of hours of public interaction while wearing a Park uniform. The artist must also define within the essay their proposal for what they will do to satisfy that requirement. For my Zion NP residency, the Park had an affiliation with Southern Utah University’s monthly Art Insights program and I had to go there to give a presentation to the art faculty and students about my work and residency experience.
After the residency period is over, the artist must then create a residency related work to donate to the Park’s permanent collection, usually within a six month to one year time frame. While I did have large amounts of free time alone during the one month I spent living in each Park, I also had a great deal of public interaction. I happen to enjoy both that and giving presentations, so I had no problem doing either of those things. However, if you are an artist who does not enjoy interacting with strangers or public speaking and who just wants to hang out creating in seclusion, you should look for another type of residency!
SAN: This is probably the most difficult question. If you were forced to only choose one of these locations for a return visit, which one gets the visit?
LH: Oh, that’s actually very easy; it would be Zion. That was my last residency and the most enjoyable because I pretty much knew what to expect in regards to what would be required of me, the beauty of the canyon, the place I lived was beyond wonderful, and the experiences I had were so sublime. I can’t really put words to it in great detail within the confines of this interview. I think it is best described in the blog journal that I wrote while in residence, which is on my website.
Lyn Hart at work
SAN: Your journals at these three locations are very evocative. Do you consider yourself as much a writer as an artist?
LH: I have not been writing much on my blog since that last residency in 2014, but I do feel like a writer. I started my first blog in the mid-2000s when they were beginning to trend because I went straight from nursing to art and did not know any other artists or tapestry weavers. I was using it to motivate and inspire myself and it ended up over time becoming a connection to other weavers and artists. I was not successful in keeping hand written journals, but for some reason typing on a keyboard worked. I became a little burned out on writing in my blog because I realized that I was becoming more focused on posting about art rather than creating it. It began to feel like a burden and when I had first started writing I told myself if it ever started feeling like that I would stop. I have done quite a bit of writing for the American Tapestry Alliance’s journal and website in the past, along with acting as theme editor/coordinator both in the past and recently. I have started having the urge to begin writing again with the advent of my art fellowship on Tumamoc Hill this year, so time will tell if I follow through with doing that.
SAN: Tell us about serving as a volunteer naturalist at Sabino Canyon Recreation Area. How did this influence your art?
LH: The fifteen-week training program added to my knowledge of the natural history of our area and I really enjoyed that. The organization’s mission is very similar to the Desert Museum’s docent program—field trips for children that are bused in, natural history demos—and since Sabino Canyon isn’t a zoo or garden, nature walks and hikes within the canyon. I don’t think it really had a direct, tangible influence on my art. I volunteered in the program for four years working as a co-leader for the nature walks, which were on a schedule and did not really afford time for field sketching. If anything, my observational skills, which have always been good, were honed.
SAN: You are now working as a Tumamoc Arts Fellow with the Art/Science program at the Desert Laboratory on Tumamoc Hill here in Tucson. Tell us a little about this program and what you are doing.
LH: The Desert Laboratory on Tumamoc Hill, in collaboration with the University of Arizona Confluencecenter for Creative Inquiry decided last year to start a Transdisciplinary Arts Program. There has been an artist-in-residence at the Lab, Paul Mirocha, since 2011, but his role is different than what was being envisioned for the Arts Fellow.
I think the best way to explain what the Desert Lab and the Confluencecenter conceived for the program’s purpose and Arts Fellow’s role is to directly quote the proposal description that the Director of the Desert Lab, Ben Wilder, sent me:
“The themes encompassed by Tumamoc Hill touch on nearly every discipline. This site has a history of over one-hundred years of science and two-thousand years of human use. Today, it receives over 1,500 hundred visitors a day, which is likely the most use the Hill has received in its history. This project will allow the Desert Laboratory on Tumamoc Hill to explore, document, and share the stories and richness of Cemamagi Du’ag, the hill of the horned lizard, in new ways. Specifically, the Tumamoc Transdisciplinary Arts Program will (1) support the effort of a Tumamoc Arts Fellow who can undertake and expand their art as well as, in coordination with Ben Wilder the Director of Desert Lab, will (2) establish a working group of community artists to explore ways to meld art and science at Tumamoc Hill and (3) undertake a juried open call to artists for the creation of a transdisciplinary work that addresses the themes of Tumamoc Hill, supported by funds from the Confluence Center. In addition, (4) Tumamoc Artist in residence Paul Mirocha has been at the forefront of providing an artistic interpretation of Tumamoc Hill in recent years, his efforts as a part of this project will be to conduct an art-science course. These collective steps will help develop a forward-thinking arts program at Tumamoc Hill that will communicate the layers of perception of a cultural pillar to the diverse Tucson community.”
LH: I have not been writing much on my blog since that last residency in 2014, but I do feel like a writer. I started my first blog in the mid-2000s when they were beginning to trend because I went straight from nursing to art and did not know any other artists or tapestry weavers. I was using it to motivate and inspire myself and it ended up over time becoming a connection to other weavers and artists. I was not successful in keeping hand written journals, but for some reason typing on a keyboard worked. I became a little burned out on writing in my blog because I realized that I was becoming more focused on posting about art rather than creating it. It began to feel like a burden and when I had first started writing I told myself if it ever started feeling like that I would stop. I have done quite a bit of writing for the American Tapestry Alliance’s journal and website in the past, along with acting as theme editor/coordinator both in the past and recently. I have started having the urge to begin writing again with the advent of my art fellowship on Tumamoc Hill this year, so time will tell if I follow through with doing that.
SAN: Tell us about serving as a volunteer naturalist at Sabino Canyon Recreation Area. How did this influence your art?
LH: The fifteen-week training program added to my knowledge of the natural history of our area and I really enjoyed that. The organization’s mission is very similar to the Desert Museum’s docent program—field trips for children that are bused in, natural history demos—and since Sabino Canyon isn’t a zoo or garden, nature walks and hikes within the canyon. I don’t think it really had a direct, tangible influence on my art. I volunteered in the program for four years working as a co-leader for the nature walks, which were on a schedule and did not really afford time for field sketching. If anything, my observational skills, which have always been good, were honed.
SAN: You are now working as a Tumamoc Arts Fellow with the Art/Science program at the Desert Laboratory on Tumamoc Hill here in Tucson. Tell us a little about this program and what you are doing.
LH: The Desert Laboratory on Tumamoc Hill, in collaboration with the University of Arizona Confluencecenter for Creative Inquiry decided last year to start a Transdisciplinary Arts Program. There has been an artist-in-residence at the Lab, Paul Mirocha, since 2011, but his role is different than what was being envisioned for the Arts Fellow.
I think the best way to explain what the Desert Lab and the Confluencecenter conceived for the program’s purpose and Arts Fellow’s role is to directly quote the proposal description that the Director of the Desert Lab, Ben Wilder, sent me:
“The themes encompassed by Tumamoc Hill touch on nearly every discipline. This site has a history of over one-hundred years of science and two-thousand years of human use. Today, it receives over 1,500 hundred visitors a day, which is likely the most use the Hill has received in its history. This project will allow the Desert Laboratory on Tumamoc Hill to explore, document, and share the stories and richness of Cemamagi Du’ag, the hill of the horned lizard, in new ways. Specifically, the Tumamoc Transdisciplinary Arts Program will (1) support the effort of a Tumamoc Arts Fellow who can undertake and expand their art as well as, in coordination with Ben Wilder the Director of Desert Lab, will (2) establish a working group of community artists to explore ways to meld art and science at Tumamoc Hill and (3) undertake a juried open call to artists for the creation of a transdisciplinary work that addresses the themes of Tumamoc Hill, supported by funds from the Confluence Center. In addition, (4) Tumamoc Artist in residence Paul Mirocha has been at the forefront of providing an artistic interpretation of Tumamoc Hill in recent years, his efforts as a part of this project will be to conduct an art-science course. These collective steps will help develop a forward-thinking arts program at Tumamoc Hill that will communicate the layers of perception of a cultural pillar to the diverse Tucson community.”
I have been working at the Desert Lab since February of this year where I have an office/studio next door to Paul Mirocha’s in one of the historical buildings. Since that time that I’ve established and manage an Instagram account for the Lab (they did not have any social media platforms set up prior to 2018) which is doing very well. I’ve also played a role in helping define, coordinate and conduct the Hill’s first Art and Science course which ran every Saturday in May. The course focus was on learning to illustrate a field notebook and the format consisted of art instruction by Paul Mirocha and two other well-known Tucson based illustrators, Barbara Terkanian and Bill Singleton, combined with lectures given by scientists who were experts in the Tumamoc specific subjects being studied during the course (saguaros, rock art, seeds and landscape change over time). All of which took place right here on Tumamoc. There have been several meetings to begin to conceptualize how the Tumamoc Working Arts Group will be formed, but that is a work in progress that will evolve with time. Our priority was to get the Art and Science course up and running. This first debut of the course was extremely successful and we are now beginning to refine and expand the course content with the plan to offer it again this fall.
SAN: You started your professional life as a registered nurse then you changed to fiber arts. How do you see the relationship between the arts and the sciences?
LH: Making art has been part of my life as long as I can remember. There were periods of time when I wasn’t able to because of life events, but I’ve always been able to come back to it. When I began to pursue a college education in my late 20s I actually was going for a graphic arts degree. I had a long held desire to go to art school and was extremely excited. In my very first art class, the instructor was pretty harsh and brutal in his critiques of my work and he told me I would never be an artist. Unfortunately, I was still recovering from the effects of my first marriage in which I had undergone a long period of psychological abuse; in a nutshell I had been made to feel I was worthless. So being told that kind of thing in my very first college art class was a pretty big blow. Both my parents were nurses, so it seemed natural to transfer into the nursing program.
Coming back to embrace art as my main focus a decade later, I found that the analytical thinking and organizational skills I developed during my work as a nurse combined with my competency with interpersonal relationships helped me a great deal. When I first began to meet other artists, I was puzzled because it seemed to me that some I met were very disorganized, functioned in their own time zone and were not extremely proficient in communicating with others. Once I realized that this was mostly due to the fact that they had not had to work in a profession that demanded these aptitudes and so had not really developed them, I had a better understanding of why my approach was so different on those levels. But in my mind, the difference was a good one since I did not have to struggle to obtain those qualities, I already had them. I just had to focus on growing as an artist.
I think the direct link for me between art and non-medical science is my deep-seated need to understand about something I am going to represent. If I don’t have the knowledge I will research until I attain it. I cannot feel comfortable interpreting something if I don’t know about it. It seems logical to me that art and science are closely linked. In our culture as it exists now, digital imagery is so fast and prevalent it has become the norm. Some people are young enough that they may not even remember a time when they did not have a camera at their fingertips. In the not so distant past if you wanted an image of something and did not own a camera, you had to draw it yourself. Which is exactly what the early scientists and explorers did. Rather than just clicking off a quick image of something with your phone that is rapidly forgotten when it is absorbed into a giant collection of digital images, taking the time to observe, study and draw that something really gives one a better and long lasting understanding of it.
SAN: Any ideas on what would make life easier for artists in our bioregion?
LH: I’m not sure how to answer this. If easier means successful, then that depends on how an artist would measure success for themselves. If success means selling lots of work to be able to support oneself solely through making art, then I am a complete failure! But that’s not why I chose to become an artist and I know many artists who support themselves doing other things (like teaching their craft) so they can afford to make their art. I am fortunate in that I have worked to support myself financially since I was 17 so I understand what a good work ethic can do for you and also because Dennis and I made a conscious decision not to have children which allows us to live on one income.
Success for me has meant having my work accepted into exhibits, forming relationships with other artists I admire and enjoy spending time with, discovering that my art can take me places and give me experiences (such as my residencies) I never dreamed I would have. I have never had or pursued gallery representation, and I’ve never really been connected to the art community here in Tucson, so I can’t speak to those experiences. I think an artist must seek and follow what makes them passionate and what fits their lives because it will be apparent in the work they create. Be on the lookout for opportunities that seem to resonate for you and pursue them. If doors are meant to open, they will; but If you don’t take a chance to find out, you’ll never know!
For more about Lyn Hart's work and about the Tumamoc Hill projects, go to:
http://www.desertsongstudio.com/
https://tumamoc.arizona.edu/people/lyn-hart
SAN: You started your professional life as a registered nurse then you changed to fiber arts. How do you see the relationship between the arts and the sciences?
LH: Making art has been part of my life as long as I can remember. There were periods of time when I wasn’t able to because of life events, but I’ve always been able to come back to it. When I began to pursue a college education in my late 20s I actually was going for a graphic arts degree. I had a long held desire to go to art school and was extremely excited. In my very first art class, the instructor was pretty harsh and brutal in his critiques of my work and he told me I would never be an artist. Unfortunately, I was still recovering from the effects of my first marriage in which I had undergone a long period of psychological abuse; in a nutshell I had been made to feel I was worthless. So being told that kind of thing in my very first college art class was a pretty big blow. Both my parents were nurses, so it seemed natural to transfer into the nursing program.
Coming back to embrace art as my main focus a decade later, I found that the analytical thinking and organizational skills I developed during my work as a nurse combined with my competency with interpersonal relationships helped me a great deal. When I first began to meet other artists, I was puzzled because it seemed to me that some I met were very disorganized, functioned in their own time zone and were not extremely proficient in communicating with others. Once I realized that this was mostly due to the fact that they had not had to work in a profession that demanded these aptitudes and so had not really developed them, I had a better understanding of why my approach was so different on those levels. But in my mind, the difference was a good one since I did not have to struggle to obtain those qualities, I already had them. I just had to focus on growing as an artist.
I think the direct link for me between art and non-medical science is my deep-seated need to understand about something I am going to represent. If I don’t have the knowledge I will research until I attain it. I cannot feel comfortable interpreting something if I don’t know about it. It seems logical to me that art and science are closely linked. In our culture as it exists now, digital imagery is so fast and prevalent it has become the norm. Some people are young enough that they may not even remember a time when they did not have a camera at their fingertips. In the not so distant past if you wanted an image of something and did not own a camera, you had to draw it yourself. Which is exactly what the early scientists and explorers did. Rather than just clicking off a quick image of something with your phone that is rapidly forgotten when it is absorbed into a giant collection of digital images, taking the time to observe, study and draw that something really gives one a better and long lasting understanding of it.
SAN: Any ideas on what would make life easier for artists in our bioregion?
LH: I’m not sure how to answer this. If easier means successful, then that depends on how an artist would measure success for themselves. If success means selling lots of work to be able to support oneself solely through making art, then I am a complete failure! But that’s not why I chose to become an artist and I know many artists who support themselves doing other things (like teaching their craft) so they can afford to make their art. I am fortunate in that I have worked to support myself financially since I was 17 so I understand what a good work ethic can do for you and also because Dennis and I made a conscious decision not to have children which allows us to live on one income.
Success for me has meant having my work accepted into exhibits, forming relationships with other artists I admire and enjoy spending time with, discovering that my art can take me places and give me experiences (such as my residencies) I never dreamed I would have. I have never had or pursued gallery representation, and I’ve never really been connected to the art community here in Tucson, so I can’t speak to those experiences. I think an artist must seek and follow what makes them passionate and what fits their lives because it will be apparent in the work they create. Be on the lookout for opportunities that seem to resonate for you and pursue them. If doors are meant to open, they will; but If you don’t take a chance to find out, you’ll never know!
For more about Lyn Hart's work and about the Tumamoc Hill projects, go to:
http://www.desertsongstudio.com/
https://tumamoc.arizona.edu/people/lyn-hart
