"What we touch, touches us."

I don't remember where I saw these words but I hear them repeating in my mind. I feel the impact of this statement more in my artwork when I work outside in the natural world than in my studio surrounded by walls. The thought that remains with me is, we shape what we touch and in turn are shaped by what we hold in our hands, hearts and minds.

Years ago I met the man whose job it was to take care of The Rose Garden, which is near the zoo in Seattle. He had been tending that garden for 30 years! I've never been a plant enthusiast but the calming beauty of that place struck me. The Caretaker had a sweet gentle air about him that made me think that the garden had tended and shaped him as well. I imagined how different he might have been if he had worked at Taco Bell for 30 years and if Taco Bell had worked at him for that long.

Perhaps I work outside in the natural world because I want to be shaped by what is constantly and visibly changing; the ground, water, air, and light. Perhaps it is wanting to recognize myself as a part of the play of light and darkness, the moving tides, or the rise of a hill. When I began to work outdoors and had little past experience of doing art in the environment, I arranged to be left on a small, remote, uninhabited island in SE Alaska for a period of 10-15 days. My intention was to explore making art with that environment. Since that first experience I have returned to the same island three times to continue the exploration of art making in, and with that place.

The way I "do art" outside is first to become very attentive to "what is", within and around me, then find some way to interact with what is physically present. It's like entering a playing field and initially not knowing what game is being played, what the rules are and how or if I can enter into it. I work with materials found in the landscape or simple materials I bring with me, such as flour, survey tape, or matches. Sometimes I begin working with a call and response to the question of, "Where am I?" or, "How can I participate in this place?" For me, location is the confluence, between internal and external, physical and non-physical reality. Often, locating myself happens through the interaction of doing the work.

In the words of T.S. Eliot from Four Quartets:
"We shall not cease from exploration And the end of all our exploring Will be to arrive where we started And to know the place for the first time.".

Above: © Gloria Lamson • Seaweed hand on stone, SE Alaska • 1998