"The Glacier Sierra" by William S. Rice

Seems a good time of year to meditate on one of William S. Rice's glacier woodcuts.

Drama is found in the tension between heaven and earth. The bright, purity of the snow is mesmerizing, like a siren's call. The jagged lines of blue ice remind us of the snow's true nature. Beautiful things are often dangerous. Only the blackened trees, which appear as quiet shadows lift up toward the sky. They are the only signs of life after all. All else is pulled down into the frozen gorge. Even the great mountain slouches as if ready to collapse.

"Heavy Snow" by Linda Mahoney

Image posted with the permission of the artist. More of Linda Mahoney's work can be found at her website. 

An eerie sound breaks the silence.

Wooooooooooooooo

It is most certainly the winter wind rushing through tight spaces between scrawny trunks and jagged bare branches of trees. Two heavy, green mitts of evergreen foliage burdened by snow reach out like the claws of a possessed yeti.

This is Out In the Open. Bright reflections of sun all around. Should be a cheery scene, no? Maybe to some degree. But for sober consideration, there is always the cold. The cold that drives so many animals into hibernation underground. That traps people on un-plowed streets with buried, useless cars. The cold that's like a monster who can't get inside the house, but lurks just outside the front door waiting for the furnace to break.

Scary, but exhilarating.
Frozen still, yet poised for an avalanche

"Rolling a Snowball" by Utagawa Kuniteru

On this winter's day

Pink children run, shout, and laugh

Barefoot in the snow.

"Snow in the Countryside" by Kamisaka Sekka

Crunch, crunch, the snow on the ground is up past his ankles and more is tumbling down from the sky in a steady swarm. He leans in to the wind using a narrow walking stick for support. The trail behind him sweeps up and pushes him forward, but toward what? All in front seems a gray chasm. To make this journey is to be consumed by the frozen moment, like an animal driven by instinct, with no memory of the past or thoughts of the future. In seeking cover from the elements, he becomes anonymous - a human being reduced to solid planes of black and white. We think we have choices, when truly we're at the mercy of forces greater than we can comprehend. And yet we struggle. We trudge on.

"View from Interstate 83" by Robert Patierno

Image posted with the permission of the artist. More of Robert Patierno's work can be found at his website. 

Wood and metal beams, wires, pointed roofs, and uneven shafts of light have sliced up what would otherwise be an inviting view of gently rolling, moonlit hills under a star-speckled sky. The electric pulse that powers the artificial light hums like the motor of our car. The street lamp's glow competes with that of the moon, though only the lamp confuses moths and other flying insects, luring them to their doom. Three birds on a wire, another three on a lamp are echoed by three crosses on a distant hill. A couple birds take flight as two missals soar. Nature is mirrored by death and destruction as if it has gazed into some sort of fun house mirror. Zooming by, I see all and remain unmoved. After all, I've become accustomed to executions and forgotten the beauty of stars.

"Winter in Aizu" by Kiyoshi Saito

It is a tremendously cold day. The sky is grey and overcast, so there will be no shining reprieve from the sun. The closest structure bulges like the bow of a ship stuck in a frozen sea. Bare, black tree branches wearing white stripes of snow curl and reach, then flop over, weary from exertion. Icicles line the roofs like rows of predatory teeth. And while the landscape is layered - mountains, buildings, trees, snow-covered ground - the people seem to almost live in a two dimensional world; a wide, flat man trudges across the scene while two stick-figures moving away slip into the cracks of their own silhouettes. Anything to get away from this cold, bleak, motionless scene.

"The Memory Inside Bone" by Joshua Norton

Image posted with the permission of the artist. Since I last wrote about one of Joshua Norton's works, he's completed a residency at the MN Center for Book Arts where he created some wonderfully creepy screenprint popout constructions. He's also featured in the newly published book Low Tech Print. Check out his work on his website here.

This cyclops eye is my gift to you. A memento of what we once shared. Do not cry for me, for my history is spread out like a coded tapestry lined with tentacle tusks and embroidered with layers of sediment. It got pretty complicated there toward the end, but when we boil it down, it gets pretty basic. Basic as primary colors. Basic as a handful of particles. Ooo, ouch, but the blood is still pouring out from where that spear struck, and I gotta go. The next Ice Age is on the horizon. Take my hide and keep warm.