One Week In Vancouver, British Columbia

Learning to Simplify and Float

After two weeks in my car driving from New York to Vancouver BC, meandering through the Southern desert, I have begun to settle into my new home, finalize artworks to be sent out in the next few weeks for the over 50 individuals who became involved with this project, and stretch my legs a little.

I'd be lying if I said the first few days were very easy, for it is difficult to move into a new place with no phone, no friends, no bank account... but there are finer things here.

The Ocean.

The Mountains.

A Major City.

The Sunshine.

My Health.

Not to mention a new Studio to settle into.

Looking through my completed pieces from my journey Between the Points, I am noticing a theme of simplification.  Part of this could be due to certain landscapes - the endless golden fields of wheat in Idaho, the flat arid landscape of Northern Texas, or the seemingly endless sky of Oklahoma.

A certain amount of this simplification and editing could also be due in part to moving and being mobile.  One must be very thoughtful about what elements to include since there is limited space in a vehicle, and limited energy in packing boxes upon boxes.  Perhaps this process of simplifying my lifestyle through way of purging belongings found its way into my artwork.

An emphasis on color and light still reigns supreme in the pieces, drawing, watercolor, acrylic, photography, and collage.  I am fascinated by the way in which shadows and tones are dispersed across landscapes and objects depending on their light source.

I have noticed more of a sense of humor and light-heartedness in these small works than I tend to exhibit in my larger acrylic paintings.  Maybe due to their size I feel more free to explore and take chances.  Going through these types of exercises is incredibly valuable for it reinforces the importance of taking chances and risks.

I decided to take the weekend to further reflect on the pieces, and get outside while the weather was nice.  I made my way to Garibaldi Park for some backpacking and camping.  I'd be lying if I said I wasn't afraid of bears the entire night.  The upside to this fear, much like when I camped at Canyonlands in Utah, is that I was happy to get up and out of the tent early.

The rain from the night before, along with the clouds cloaking the mountain range made for a beautiful and inspiring morning.

I can say without a doubt that until staying in the mountains and waking up to this incredible landscape, where the trail head was an under 2 hour drive from my front doorstep, I didn't know how to feel.  Being within the mountains, and spending time out of the studio surprisingly, helped me grasp that I moved to one of the most beautiful places I've ever been to.  I'm excited to continue to build an Art portfolio, become involved in a new community, and see how this fantastic land seeps into my artwork and creative process.

(So Much) More to Come.

Jessa Gilbert

www.jessagilbert.com

facebook.com/jessagilbertstudios

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Day Dozen - Utah, Nevada, Utah, Idaho

In order to get from Salt Lake City to Utah, you have to go through Nevada.

I spent the night in Salt Lake City and woke up to clear skies, chance of 100 degree weather, and a flat tire on my bike.  Aside from the bike, all components seemed perfect for the day's journey:

Nancy Holt's artwork, "Sun Tunnels".

I studied this particular piece while at the University of Vermont and fell in love with her idea of removing artwork from the elitist "white-walled" gallery space, and creating something where the value is in the piece itself as well as the journey and experience getting to it.  About this work in particular she also stated, "It's an inversion of the sky/ground relationship-bringing the sky down to the earth".  That aspect of the work I never understood while reading about the piece in textbooks.  Being at the artwork site, however, puts it all into perspective.

Let me back up a minute... let's talk about getting there.

Exit Utah towards the West side of the Great Salt Lake, where white mounds of salt are piled on either side of the highway.  There are shallow pools next to the roads as well for a large portion of the beginning of the drive.  These pools seem to behave more like mirrors than liquid, and the reflections in them are remarkable.  Too bad there's the whole moving vehicle thing to pay attention to.

Once the Great Salt Lake is far in your rear view mirror, you enter the Salt Flats.  I am still jogging my brain for reasons why anyone would want to camp on the Salt Flats, or go there for any extended period of time, but I have yet to come up with one.  While they may look like cold, refreshing fields of snow, let me assure you - they are not.  Driving through them at 9 am, it was 90 degrees fahrenheit.

Now, I learned the hard way about plugging in GPS coordinates into your Tom Tom that hasn't been updated since, oh let's say, 2003.  If, and I should say when, you head to the Sun Tunnels, head towards Lucin, UT, and enter off the highway UT-30.

Or else you will end up here:

 Leaving Utah, going into Nevada, to then enter Utah about 20 miles down the road:

Although this route was much longer and way more rugged than the other, the scenery was beautiful and I learned what extended time at 15 mph feels like.  Although I was in the middle of the desert, there were a few, seemingly random, farm areas scattered about the drive.  Most of the property signs had gun holes in them, so I did not stop to tell them about the Between the Points Project.

One of my favorite signs read "No Hunting, Don't Ask".

After a little over an hour, and about 4 hours from Salt Lake City, I arrived at the Sun Tunnels.  Believe it or not, I had the exhibition all to myself.

The concrete tubes, as well as the holes drilled into the sides of all four of them (these holes are in the formation of particular constellations), were much larger than I anticipated.  When you walk through the tubes there is an echo from your feet that almost gives you an out of body experience - or maybe that was the heat.

Each time you turn around or venture into a different tunnel you frame a new image.  The light changes every time you move around the piece, and no matter how unchanged it seems, everything is different.

You become very aware of how small you are, and how vast the landscape around you is.  Every time I moved through the tunnels I felt as though the distance between the earth and sky collapsed.  I know she likely did not intend for there to be skateboard tracks twisting through the tunnel, but they add to the feeling that you are in a sort of vortex, spinning and rotating, inverting the sky and the sand.

While I feel I could have spent the whole day there, watching the sun move over the works, I had to press on.  Not to mention, my super-gringo skin may not last a full day in the salty Utah desert sun.

Although, let it be known, this is the most color my skin has had in years.. 

and it's not (completely) pink.

Back in the art mobile, and onto the dusty trail.  I ended up taking a different route out, so I had a nice new tour of the desert landscape.

Twin Falls, Idaho was my next stop, and boy, how the landscape did change.  I drove through white, salt flats, down red and green grass fields leading into mountains, and into golden and green hay fields at the base of some smaller mountains.  Southern Idaho was beautiful - all these ranges of gold and green butting up against crisp blue and white skies.  I also loved all the farm equipment, and how the sun reflected off the endless, massive sprinkler systems.

I made great time coming into Twin Falls which was perfect because my bike needed some work, the car was due for an oil change, and quite possibly a serious car wash.

With everything tuned up, I'll be heading to Washington in the morning.