Hi there! I can’t believe it’s October. I feel like I was just writing my last brainwaves letter, but that was in MAY. But also, May feels like a year ago? I don’t know. Happy to be in your inbox again, thanks for being on this list!
Quick Links:
What I’ve been up to:
I’m having a studio sale this week…
I’m cleaning out my flat files and storage space and my studio sale is live! I will have it up through Friday the 22nd. You can purchase on my website and I can ship things to you or you can come pick them up in my studio (preferred) in West Oakland before the end of October. (A few big pieces are pick-up only.) I’m also open to sliding scale or pricing plans for the larger, more expensive pieces – just email me to discuss options: hannahpmode@gmail.com.
As usual, my art is mostly blue things – there are lots of old and new paintings, drawings, and cyanotypes of all sizes, plus ceramic knots! I really dug through the archive for this, and there is a wide range of pieces for sale representing the past 6 years in CA, AK, and MI. It will likely be the only studio sale I do before the end of 2021, so don’t wait if you’re thinking about gifting art for the holidays. :)
….Because we’re moving to Providence, RI!
I love California so much and it’s bittersweet to be leaving the Bay after six(ish) years here. (Queue a LOT of sweet nostalgia and happy tears for finding friends, love, art, purpose, etc etc etc.) It’s been so wonderful to be back here for the last few months. But if you know me well, you know that I love seasons (even winter) and the moody Atlantic, that I’m a New Englander at heart, and that making the jump back east has been a longtime dream.
I’m so excited to be making this move with my partner, Danny. We have been talking about it forever and have been looking for a more sustainable and affordable place to be artists long-term. We feel very taken with Providence and the creative, coastal, small city vibes after scoping out different spots and spending time my college besties who live there. We will be driving cross-country the first two weeks of November and are currently apartment-hunting on the Eastside of Providence and job-hunting in the MA + RI art scene. Please reach out if you know of housing and folks/organizations that would be helpful to chat with and check out. Thanks in advance!
I made a (very personal) art book.
TLDR
The book is called Terratoma and explores the idea of my body as a site for geologic forces, growth, and extraction. I collaborated with my friend Zach Clark, an extremely rad artist and book-maker, to print it via risograph. You can pre-order the book here through Zach’s publishing org, National Monument Press! As a special pre-order option, you will also receive a small zine, Hysteresis/Hysteria, that I made as an experimental footnote for the main book.
Okay, now the longer story.
Personal stuff (trigger warning for physical and mental health challenges):
I have been working on this project for the past year and it feels pretty vulnerable to talk about, but I’m going for it! This book is super personal and I want to share a little bit more about those experiences with you, and how that translated into this project.
You probably already know that I went through an unexpected health crisis last fall, shortly after I arrived in Michigan for my artist residency at Central Michigan University. After sudden excruciating pain and lots of testing, I was diagnosed with benign ovarian tumors, ie. teratomas/complex dermoid cysts. It was a very hard and scary time, especially because I was living alone in a new place in a pandemic and hadn’t been able to really get to know people there yet. I had emergency surgery to remove them in early October, and have had a pretty painful, slow recovery.
A year later, the physical and hormonal complications (and the financial burden, but I’m not even going to start going down the broken healthcare system rabbit hole here) are something that I’m dealing with every day, and honestly…it’s hard. I struggle a lot with comparing myself to others, that I “should” be totally better and fine now, that I “should” not make a big deal about it, what my body “should” look and feel like. I think this has felt especially potent because my art, identity, and career are so wrapped up in the capability of my body as a tool and instrument – to carry me to glacial landscapes, to model competency and confidence as an educator, to be part of a (very fit) outdoor ed community, to lift things to make sculptures, and even to just kneel on the floor leaning over a bucket while coating cyanotype fabric.
That said, it could be a lot worse, and I am so privileged in so many ways. I know the past 18 months has been so challenging for everyone. Like a lot of us during the pandemic, I’ve been trying and learning to approach my mental health and physical health with more softness, reassessing a lot of my toxic productivity/hustle culture tendencies and body image issues, and just generally trying to rest and be a little gentler with myself. Some days are easier than others.
I want to be more open about all this, at least in this longer format, because social media can be such a strange world where I’m only sharing, as my friend Zak would say, “the hits:” the professional stuff, or the beautiful views, or the moments of joy, or short blurbs about what’s going on more generally. And because I think most people with ovaries have experienced illness, challenges, or other issues that can still be so stigmatized to share. If you are also dealing with chronic pain, reproductive health issues, body changes, or just struggling to get by, I feel you and am with you! I’m doing better in so many ways now – I’ve learned a lot about my body and my brain this past year, and have been working through it – but this is still something that is very present for me and I’m still in the thick of navigating. It’s an ongoing journey and not always easy to talk about. So thank you so much for reading and listening. Feel free to reach out if you want to chat about any of this more.
Art stuff:
All of the above is why I’ve been nervous to share about this book project, why it’s felt kind of overwhelming to make, but also why it has been so meaningful to work on. When I was super sick and then in the midst of starting my recovery last fall, I wasn’t physically or mentally capable of making very much art. I have never really considered myself a good writer, but – good or bad, I really have no idea – this poem just poured out in midst of my hardest and sickest moments, and then I worked on editing it, formatting it, and creating imagery for the book. (Big shout out to the pals who encouraged me, helped me edit, and talked through it with me this past year. I truly couldn’t have made this without that support. ILYSM!)
This project feels like a strange culmination of the last five years moving between California, Alaska, and Michigan, continually exploring the way my own body can be a porous vessel for geologic empathy. This book considers how, in what I think of as kind of a bizarre twist, my body seems to have absorbed these geologic processes of growth and change, compression and expansion, erosion and transformation, long before I was even aware it was happening. The line between body and geology is continuously blurred.
For the imagery in the book, I mined open access NASA and USGS maps and photos as well as my collection of found geologic diagrams and papers (lots were from helping clean out Juneau Icefield Research Program archive boxes). I scanned shells, rocks, and other objects I’ve gathered as well as years of sketchbooks from my summers in Alaska. I sorted through my own photos and cyanotypes and made some new drawings and paintings. It’s been a new way of working, and an interesting process to use both my physical and digital brain and skillsets.
Huge shout out to my friend and collaborator, Zach Clark, who offered to help me make this last winter, and then has shown up for me with an incredible amount of support, flexibility, and generosity. Throughout my (very long) process of putting it together, he has been so patient and kind. Printing via risograph (kind of a cross between a copy machine and screen printing?) also adds another element of fun imperfections, color surprises, and a hand-done feel that I love.
It’s nerve-wracking to release this into the world because it’s much more personal and direct than a lot of my other, more abstract work. (It’s very scary to share my poem! I don’t know how writers do this all the time.) But I gave an artist talk to Zach’s Intro to Drawing class last week, and he told me tonight that the biggest takeaway for his students was that “art doesn’t have to be perfect,” which is the best possible thing I could ever hope to convey to students, and I will try to remember that too. I am also reminding myself that the things that feel scariest and most personal to make are the right things to make.
I’m ready to let go of it and send it (imperfectly) to you.
In other news…
I’ve been working on my public art project.
This summer I spent some time at Bishop O’Dowd High School’s Living Lab garden, collaborating with founder and science faculty member, Annie Prutzman, to make a catalogue of cyanotypes of native plants they grow there. These prints will be integrated into a map design on printed aluminum, combined with (blue) painted and hand-etched glass. The entire installation will be a grid of 30 aluminum/glass panels, creating a geologic map of the East Bay area on the outside of the Center for Environmental Studies.
I’ve been working closely with local glass studio, Lenehan Architectural Glass, (conveniently across the street from my West Oakland studio) to fabricate the piece. We’ve been testing materials and processes and working out the kinks – and are just about ready to roll on the final pieces! I will be back in January for the installation, and am also developing some interdisciplinary art/environmental science workshops with Bishop O’Dowd that I’ll be returning to teach later in the spring. This project is truly a dream come true, and I feel lucky that the people I’m working with are so supportive of my vision for integrating site-specific processes and interdisciplinary education into the permanent installation. Fingers crossed that I will have more opportunities to use this type of format for future public art things!
Things I’ve Been Reading/Listening to:
Images of a Flowing, Transitory World by Danny Lulu & Paul Sakai
I’ve had a front row seat watching and listening to this come together over the past year. I’m very biased but I also think it’s just beautiful and the perfect music for any setting. And it’s free or for sale (name your price) to download on bandcamp!
Planetarium, Power, XXI, and Phantasia for Elvira Shatayev by Adrienne Rich & Whelks by Mary Oliver
Always coming back to these favorite poems, among others, but have been thinking about these specifically a lot as I was working on Terratoma.
Animal by Lisa Taddeo
Three Women by Taddeo is one of my favorites. This book felt strange and visceral and uncomfortable to read, and I’m still not sure how I feel about it? I don’t think I liked it, per se, but I’ve been thinking about it a lot.
On the Internet, We’re Always Famous by Chris Hayes
This New Yorker article is worth taking the time to read. It’s the best synthesis I’ve read about the history of internet culture, and a breakdown of attention vs. recognition on social media – and felt way more interesting than just, internet = bad. (For one, if made me so glad that I never got insta-famous!) Maybe it’s ironic that I’m recommending this through an internet/social media-ish channel? Probably, but I would still highly recommend reading.
Okay, that’s it for now. Truly, thank you so much for reading/skimming/glancing/whatever! It feels really meaningful to be able to share these thoughts and updates with you in this longer and more honest format. Sending friendly (brain)waves and real to you, wherever you are in the world.