Deepen
July 2024

A linoleum block print, presented in black and white, of a loon in the act of diving, looking down, resolute, creating ripples on the surface of the water, ink texture giving the impression of small bubble. The loon’s webbed feet are the only parts of its body still above water, but for how long? The word DEEPEN appears in the lower left corner, within the dark water.

There Are Choices
September 2024

A linoleum block print of three of Renée’s neighbors: a squirrel, skunk, and deer representing different biological stress responses. The squirrel runs in flight, the skunk’s ready to fight, and the deer chooses quietly to fawn, energy vibrating off each of them. The text reminds “THERE ARE CHOICES,” even in moments of trouble.

This month Renée was moved by themes of trauma and responses that can arise in complex social environments during times of weaving, collapse, and change. Renée was thinking about the role of boundaries in relationships and how to practice them more actively as opposed to allowing
unconscious patterns to reproduce through history. Sometimes you just need a reminder of your list of options, however small, like to reconnect with your breath. An awareness of even this can be powerful.

“Being oppressed means the absence of choices” -bell hooks
“May your choices reflect your hopes, not your fears” -Nelson Mandela

Renée got to attend a local film screening of “Where Olive Trees Weep” about occupation and survival in Palestine which is on her mind and heart a lot lately. Her friend Jonathan Brenneman lovingly introduced the documentary and led them through guided questions afterward, focused on
ways to understand and move through ongoing traumas toward new possibilities. This experience, as well as attending the Diagonalism EcoGathering, were meaningful to her this
month, witnessing groups of us face our world together and not run away. We stayed together even when it was hard, and that means a lot to her. We did that and she wants to keep doing that.

She started thinking about the series as a poem or prayer, because so far, it kind of reads like one:

the world is changing…
deepen.
weave.
there are choices.

Release the Dams! Reverse Enclosure!
November 2024

Liquid, pooling letters flow into each other like a river altogether in the shape of an EcoGather-blue teardrop or allium at night. The text offers two reminders or invitations to
“RELEASE THE DAMS!” and “REVERSE ENCLOSURE!” Its font is reminiscent of a Bob Masse-style concert poster, evoking the emotional and fluid human experience of being in a crowd and listening to live music together, co-regulating.

Renée was moved by an EcoGathering on “enclosure” for this piece. She thought about how she could break out creatively of the aesthetic enclosure she often works within, limits shaped by the medium of linoleum itself, in blocks that are often rectangular with straight, square edges. At first, she started with the visual of a wall about to break. It was a liberating process to change her mind and carve that part away, releasing the subject. She imagined words like water meandering freely, breaking out of the dams created by unmetabolized grief and disconnection. But it seemed important to her that there remain some space between the lines of text, suggesting a distinction between boundaries and enclosure. She thought of branches that give each other room in the tree canopy and geese flocking responsively to avoid collision and how boundaries allow us to maintain and sustain healthy relationships.

It was neat that Nissa picked up on an earlier perhaps unconscious inspiration of Renée’s – rock concert posters. It got her thinking about how music has helped humanity to channel and validate powerful emotions like grief and love. She remembered all these incredibly positive experiences of being in large crowds even as an anxious homebody introvert, yet feeling safe because of the way the particular music and artist and emotions kept the crowd connected together. Then her body recalled being at the White House back in January for the March on Washington for Gaza, likely by far the densest crowd of her life. She had never felt more grounded. Children kept being centered, adults were handing them the megaphones, listening. Her nervous system noticed these values. Young voices leading the chant set a bright and heartfelt sphere as the sun was setting and the air was getting cold. They danced and gathered, circling around the drums, calling out again and again for an end to violence and a free Palestine until their throats were sore.

Deconstruct Indoctrination
January 2025

A family of growing dandelions pair with the encouraging words to “Deconstruct indoctrination.” The roots planting deep into the dark soil echo neural pathways of the brain as flowers above ground reach out in different directions.

For this piece Renée was reflecting on a recurring theme of EcoGatherings she attended; how a big part of learning may be unlearning. She thought of when she started working as a gardener and asked she coworker how to know which of the plants were “weeds.” She explained that weeds are more of a matter of perspective than a biological reality. Renée decided from then on to try to learn and call each plant by their name, finding the whole categorization derogatory.

Looking back, this was just the beginning of Renée unraveling a lot of value-laden language she had been taught and taken for granted about the natural world, including the word “natural” or even “human nature.” Unlearning seems to require us as a species to understand our ways of thinking by the root, seeing where they come from to re-examine and then to choose to build new neural pathways as we change our brains quite literally. Dandelions are too often treated as “weeds” and marginalized, even demonized, from many ecological spaces like the “perfect” green suburban turfgrass lawn. Renée can’t help but notice wherever she lives how they grow anyway, resisting and existing even in sidewalk cracks. She is inspired by how dandelions defy human categorization and attempts at controlling the living world.

What Do You Need?
March 2025

A “pale blue dot” in the darkness is seen from faraway without any visible borders of separation. Clouds swirl overhead of the wet planet. Below them must be all of us, you and me, with
everything that has happened and is happening. Text raises the question, or prayer, “What do you need?”

“With every year that passes, I become more convinced that “help” is the most sacred word. No one survives alone. Keep breathing. Stay close.”

– Black Liturgies, Author Cole Arthur Riley

Renée has been wanting to conclude this year-long block print series/emergent prayer with questions for herself and others and for our planet as a whole. Many things came to mind.
She thought of the devastating escalation of violence in Palestine. She thought of the environmental crises deeply interconnected with all this war and dehumanization. She thought of how hearts and minds may get overwhelmed by the grief of our connectedness, build walls, defend them, and the implications of that separation. In an earlier time in her life, she was trained to plead quietly for a higher power to come and swoop in to help, as if she had no role to play. She felt powerless then.

But if help is one of the most sacred words, as stated by Cole Arthur Riley, she wanted to respond actively by addressing immediate needs at whatever scale with curiosity and care. In this print, she likes the ambiguity of who is asking the question. Is the Earth inquiring about my needs at this
moment, or am I reminding myself of my own? How do personal needs relate or fit into the responsibility of responding when help is needed in my community and planet? Are our needs connected even when they are different? How may they evolve over time? How can we learn to listen better?

Sterling College