Art in the subarctic, Klondike Institute of Art & Culture, Dawson City, YT, Canada. December 1-31, 2015.
Saturday, December 12, 2015
hills of gold + white aurora
The light in the Yukon is a peculiar force, particularly at this time of year, when there is hardly any of it. Its appearance, in whatever form becomes a perfect treasure due to its rarity--but also, its behavior is strange and inexplicable. In the past week, even though the darkness has continued daily to lighten into a muted, pale daylight and then wane into the long darkness again, there is no sun to speak of. The entire sky stays low and white. However, fleeting moments of isolated light bursts colour the landscape in queer ways.
A golden glow overtakes a distant mountain during the start of evening twilight.
Last night I saw the northern lights for the first time since arriving in the Yukon, but they were some atypical aurora borealis: all white. IN fact, it seems they are so atypical that I was told they don't exist, but I am witness to the fact that they do. I was surrounded overhead by a shimmer of gracefully moving white light, a whole airborne community of it. My experience of the northern lights was an initial state of bewilderment, as my mind tried to make sense of what I was seeing, followed by delight once I realized what the strange sight must be. Of course, I had expected to see colours when I did finally see the northern lights, so I didn't understand my eyes at first. I'll dare to be cliché by affirming that they were magical, enlivened by something that defies the senses.
I was walking home late, after the drag show/ dance at the Yukon Order of Pioneers hall (which was a riot!), around 1am. The streets were empty and the sky was impeccably clear like I hadn't yet seen it in Dawson. I was breathing deeply, star gazing and eyeing stray dogs suspiciously in case they might be wolves and I might have to start putting together a quick defense plan. All I knew was that yelling in a deep voice and acting aggressively might do the trick but then again, might not. I went through a mental file of possibly threatening growl noises I might be able to muster while pants-pissing terrified. Half the dogs here look like wolfy beasts, especially in the dark, and there ARE wolves here. Sometimes dogs go missing.
As I got further from the party and closer to Macaulay House, I noticed weird glowing areas in the sky, areas that seemed to expand and shift at the edge of the close-by mountains and were strewn out from them. I thought at first that there must be a full moon rising behind the hill because it was bright from behind as if some lit orb was there, but then I remembered that it was a new moon last night and so no moon light could be accountable for anything I was seeing. Then a ribbon of white light rippled across the sky directly over my head and dissipated like smoke. I stood in the road and turned in circles, around and around again, watching the forms play. They were extremely varied, not just ribbons like are typically shown in the photos that manage to capture them, but also in whole wide areas with no apparent source. No matter what scientific explanation there is for the formation and display of the aurora borealis, I tell you firmly again that they are alive beyond the combination of solar flare and floating ice crystals.
The Tr'ondëk Hwëch'in know this. One of the first things I did when arriving in Dawson was to attend a shadow puppet theatre at the Dänojà Zho Cultural Centre. The entire play was about the spirit of the northern lights, a little girl named Aurora who liked to play with the animals and young people, even though the elders warned them not to. The story was told by Wolf and Raven.
There are definitely, "white", northern lights. I've seen them at the top of the Springhill Rd., one evening at dusk. We thought they were clouds, but instead of moving across the sky, as clouds do, they vanished to leave a clear sky within minutes. It was perplexing until I understood what I'd seen.
The project will respond to the local landscape, cultural history and mythology. Utilizing locally sourced biomaterials such as animal intestine, I will construct artificial bones that mimic the natural biological process of osteogenesis. These faux artifacts will be built using textile structures as scaffolds for mineral growth. Following this process of ‘mock-ossification’, I will build text-based osteobiographies (narratives) for each object, referencing and mutating the existing stories, mythologies and histories of the Yukon.
This project reflects an interest in psychogeography (affective space) and how existing spaces can be altered through the intervention of uncanny objects abandoned in public. Those objects will be marked with identifying information that leads to a website containing semi-fictitious but almost entirely-believable ‘mutated narratives’ (a term coined by bioartist, Katherine Fargher) that offer alternate explanations for the way things are.
My research in tissue engineering informs the work in its biomimetic process: bones are over 70% hydroxylapatite crystal, formed on a partly-collagen matrix. By sculpting soft tissue and using various crystalline chemical solutions to grow hard mineral matter on the surface and insides of the structures, beautiful and unknown forms emerge. The chemicals I use and the biomaterials are naturally biodegradable and will be allowed to disintegrate into the environment, leaving nothing but their osteobiographical trace.
There are definitely, "white", northern lights. I've seen them at the top of the Springhill Rd., one evening at dusk. We thought they were clouds, but instead of moving across the sky, as clouds do, they vanished to leave a clear sky within minutes. It was perplexing until I understood what I'd seen.
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