Native Wild Spaces

From 2017 to Present

Artists are intrinsically tied to the land and I am no exception. Instead of painting large expansive landscapes, I have always been drawn to places and spaces in between that are more intimate and detailed. These are the native wild spaces that are often overlooked because they are messy or hidden but no less important. There is magic in the chaos.

Where The Catbird Sings

Watercolor on 300lb 100% Cotton Hot Press Fabriano Watercolor Paper.
36” H x 30.5” W. Framed. © 2022 Kristin Maija Peterson I 2500 USD

ABOUT THIS PIECE
I never know what will catch my eye during my morning walks. Surprises that stop me in my tracks keep me in the moment just as every living thing around me is doing right now.

Often I don’t know the names of the plants that grab my attention. Is it native is the first question followed by please don’t let me fall in love with an invasive species again! There is conflict and controversy to be found there.

A little research tells me this is indeed a native, the Gray Dogwood which happens to be anything but gray this autumn morning. The gray reference is denoting its bark. Not very imaginative in naming, right?

As it turns out, Gray Dogwood is a very adaptable shrub and excellent for naturalizing complex sites such as ponds and stream banks. It blooms creamy white clusters of flowers in May followed by white berries in late summer. Birds such as flicker, tanger, woodpeckers, and catbirds all enjoy and quickly eat the Grey Dogwood’s fruit. The Grey Dogwood also makes for an ideal shelter and nesting habitat.

Turning the Gray Dogwood into a tapestry of watercolor has been one of my more time-consuming projects. Seven weeks in the making. I was lost in the woods.

Thicket No. 2

Watercolor + Graphite Pencil on 300lb 100% Cotton Hot Press Fabriano Watercolor Paper.
14” H x 29” W. Framed. © 2017 Kristin Maija Peterson I 650 USD

ABOUT THIS PIECE
I created a number of thicket-themed pieces using a limited color palette. I have always loved the galls that inflict goldenrod stems as they change colors from greens and pinks in summer to deep sepia in the fall. I also like to include a few inhabitants who occupy a Midwest prairie biome.

ABOUT THE SERIES

There is something about wild native plants and the metamorphosis that happens after the frost has done them in that makes them amazingly beautiful. I wanted to illuminate wild native plants in a higher light as they perform many vital services even in death. They may have seeds for birds to feed on throughout the winter and their hollowed stems can be a place for beneficial insects to hibernate. Holding the soil with their deep roots, they keep it from washing away when the snow melts in spring. Their decaying bodies return to the soil, nurturing it for the next generation of wild native plants.

Basket

Graphite Pencil on 300lb 100% Cotton Hot Press Fabriano Watercolor Paper.
29” H x 34” W. Framed. © 2019 Kristin Maija Peterson I 3000 USD

ABOUT THIS PIECE
This piece was produced for a unique exhibition, entitled IN YOUR ELEMENT organized and curated by The Natural Heritage Project. Artists selected for the exhibit were provided their own GPS location (sent via USPS) to travel to and to commit at least an hour in the natural setting they designated to observe. After their time spent “in their element,” artists were asked to create a work of art in the medium of their choosing based on their observations including research, and prepare a written statement about their experience and findings.

My GPS location took me to what I later discovered as Standing Cedars Community Land Conservancy, south of Osceola, Wisconsin. This land is protected by a nonprofit organization led by a diverse group of St. Croix Valley residents committed to protecting and preserving the incredible quality and diverse biomes of the Lower St. Croix uplands from over development and for future generations.

The specific spot at the land conservancy I was observing and later discovered is called Buffalo Skull. That made me tingle as while I was there, in the quiet hum of insects and crickets, I swear one of my first visions was buffalo (lots of buffalo) that roamed here a century before.

If I were to go back and revisit this assignment, I may have done a composition of a large buffalo herd grazing. But that’s not the direction of my work. I was drawn to the back underside of dead bull thistles that made me think of woven baskets. Baskets for holding, gathering, giving, and receiving. Reciprocity. Indeed, that land had been rescued from agricultural use and appeared to be resting.

Because of its sandy rocky soils and seed resources, that land has reverted, supporting a surprising number of native species. We take care of the land and the land takes care of us. Think what you will about bull thistles. Some would argue they are invasive. To others, they love the big puffs of purple bloom thistles produce.

Thistles could be the symbol of reciprocity. In exchange for a place on this earth they are noteworthy for their high wildlife value, producing copious floral resources for pollinators, nourishing seeds for birds, like goldfinches, foliage for butterfly larvae, and down for lining birds’ nests.

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