Landscape Deconstructed: Mimi Czajka Graminski and Linda Stillman is a virtual exhibition on view at the Hammond Museum and Japanese Stroll Garden website until June 2022. It is curated by Bibiana Huang Matheis. The opening on September 11, 2021, included a virtual conversation with Mimi Czajka Graminski and Linda Stillman, moderated by Jennifer McGregor, which has been distilled and reformatted for individual interviews with each artist.
The Hudson Valley artists met in 2011 and were immediately struck by the similarities in their work – and they have continued a dialogue since then. Landscape Deconstructed is the first time their artwork is presented in tandem and it underscores the way that both artists discover elements of their surroundings and reassemble them in ingenious ways. Through distinct processes, they each preserve fleeting moments of beauty in nature while documenting a particular time and place.
In your Daily Skies series, you’ve been documenting the sky every day since 2005. Since time is such an important element in all of your work, how has this project evolved?
I started out making paintings of a section of the sky on a little panel. To keep the project fresh, I changed the format each year, mounting the panels in different ways. The paintings in Landscape Deconstructed are from 2011. They are mounted by month in the form of a calendar on shaped panels that float away from the wall to create shadows, that give physicality to each month.
After many years of painting on panels, I turned to various media – drawing, painting on paper, collaging, and then photography. This year, I’ve been taking a square photo of the sky with my phone, facing North at noon each day. I then post it on a dedicated Instagram account along with a photo of the ground.
While the format has changed over the years, the desire to have a daily practice and record a fleeting moment remains the same. Taking time to look up at the sky each day is my way to honor and celebrate nature.
Collaborating with nature is part of all of your work but in the ‘August’ Gardenproject, you created a calendar with garden beds and photographed them over time. What did you learn from this collaboration?
To combine my love of gardening with my desire to make art, I embarked on a project to plant a calendar of flowers and herbs in my garden and to document it over time. The project concerns the passage of time in nature: how flowers grow and die, and how we try to preserve the memory of fleeting moments of beauty.
The artificial format of the monthly calendar provided a design format, and I used the month of August since that is when gardens are at their peak. I planted annuals in the sequence of the color spectrum, a different color for each day of the week. Sundays were planted with all white flowers, then Mondays with yellow, Tuesdays with orange, Wednesdays with red, Thursdays with violet, Fridays were blue, and Saturdays, the biggest cooking day of the week for me, were planted with herbs. Many of the flowers I purchased didn’t conform to the color on their tag or didn’t hold up to the full sun and had to be replanted with a different variety. The unruly plants soon outgrew their plots and obliterated the carefully placed grid of paving stones.
I photographed the garden from high above in a cherry picker in July, September, November, and the following May to show the passage of time. Seeing the progress from seedling to full growth to death reified my interest in time in nature.
From this project, I learned that it’s impossible to control nature and that you have to be open to failure. Gardening is similar to making art: you have an initial vision, but it often has to be adjusted along the way.
Since March 2020, you’ve been spending much time in your upstate New York studio. How does place inform your work and have there been any surprises since spending so much more time in nature?
Living here in the country full-time since the onset of COVID has been transformative. While I always loved and appreciated nature, my relationship with the outdoors has deepened greatly. I feel part of my surroundings and want to learn more about the flora around me.
On my daily walks down our street, I have been learning the names of the plants. Many of them are invasive and threaten our environment by robbing native plants of light, water, and nutrients, which leads to a loss of biodiversity. Identifying, naming, and distinguishing invasives from similar benign species has led to a new body of work.
Now when visiting New York City, I am amazed by how disconnected I feel from nature and the weather. Looking up at the sky is a conscious effort and finding a patch of earth is a struggle.
There is a distinct form or arrangement in your work. The geometric patterns in your ‘August’ Garden project and in the leaf collages make me think of the simplicity of Shaker patterns. What are the influences in your work?
Multiple influences combine in my work. I love Shaker art and have always been interested in folk art in general, but most especially quilts. I’m attracted to the geometric patterns and use of discarded materials.
My first career as a graphic designer working with grids had a profound influence on my art. I have a need to create order and am attracted to the work of artists who use the grid, like Agnes Martin. I am fascinated by the graphic woodcut illustrations in antique herbals, and by botanical herbaria and the way they order and preserve nature.
My favorite painting is Moss Roses in a Vase by Edouard Manet. I always have a postcard reproduction of it with me in my studio. It has been a talisman and a conceptual inspiration for my work.
What goes on in your studio? What aspects of your process come from your relationship to nature, such as the flower stain samplers and the leaf collages?
I discovered the technique of flower staining when I was documenting the ‘August’ Garden project and have been using it ever since. The stain drawings are made from flower petals, rubbed onto paper, creating traces of ephemeral color while containing small remnants of the flowers. Over the years, I’ve learned which flowers create the most vibrant, long-lasting stains and I plant those varieties in my garden. Verbenas are my favorites. The Hillsdale Sampler records what was flowering in my gardens in 2019. I incorporate the names of the flowers in this and other pieces. Naming is important to me as a way to know and remember something.
For years I have gathered and preserved leaves in the fall to use later. I put them in a professional plant press or old phone books to dry. When I’m in rush, I microwave them. When dried, I glue fragments of leaves on paper or panels, contrasting the biomorphic forms of nature with geometric forms in an attempt to create order.
I consider the flower stains and the leaf collages a collaboration with nature. They embed the idea of the fleeting nature of time.
(Top image: ‘August’ Garden – in July, archival pigment print of photograph of land art installation, 8 x 12 inches on 11 x 14-inch paper, 2001/2008. All images courtesy of the artist.)
This interview is part of a content collaboration between Art Spiel and Artists & Climate Change. It was originally published on Art Spiel on February 14, 2022 as part of an ongoing interview series with contemporary artists.
Jennifer McGregor is a curator and arts planner who brings expertise in ecological art, curating/programing, and public art planning to artist-centered work. For over two decades, she conceived place-based exhibitions at Wave Hill. There, she activated connections to the environment by producing adventurous projects that explored nature, culture, and site. Through McGregor Consulting, she works with clients and collaborators to develop strategies that engage non-traditional public spaces, diverse audiences, and dynamic artists.
Artists and Climate Change is a blog that tracks artistic responses from all disciplines to the problem of climate change. It is both a study about what is being done, and a resource for anyone interested in the subject. Art has the power to reframe the conversation about our environmental crisis so it is inclusive, constructive, and conducive to action. Art can, and should, shape our values and behavior so we are better equipped to face the formidable challenge in front of us.
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