Article, photos, and objects are all courtesy of author and artist Lauren Royer (Roy-ay).
As I hold one of the seashells from the Canvas Earth project, I am looking for the words to describe what I have done to it. There once was a living, matter-consuming creature inside the walls of the shell, and now, watercolor splashes and blocks of rainbow colors have taken it's place. When laid on one side, it still appears to be that creature, perhaps just bleached out and cleaned by the sun, then brought home by a tourist. I am not sure where this particular shell came from but it was one of many that I transformed into a canvas to show the intersections of art, nature, and bodies. Cosmically speaking, it's all one in the same really. For some of the 'specimens', I cannot say what kind of life they lived, how or where they died or how they came to me. For some, I can say I know a little of their history- such as an oyster I consumed on Valentine's day two years ago or a tiny bone I found on Cannon Beach. My friends know when I travel somewhere, I choose to collect natural mementos of the land. Things like rocks, driftwood, and yes, seashells! It's important to note that all of the specimens / paintings have been (to the best of my knowledge) found naturally and treated with respect as I transformed them. Even the rocks! It's also important to note that the land upon which I am writing this article today, was once cared for by the Multnomah, Kathlamet, Clackamas, Chinook, Tualatin Kalapuya, Molalla and many other tribes and bands. I am certain they utilized the land with gratitude and respect for Mama Earth, though I do not know what languages, symbols, and rituals were/are important to them in this sense. Perhaps an exploration for another day. This project is about my experience in understanding the bodies and forms of Earth I've collected over the years. It's about what I perceived as beautiful- even when broken or 'dead', and what themes and ideas came to me as I painted these unique canvases.
My personal heritage is a tree with many branches: Scottish, English, Italian, Spanish, and American. Pinning down how my ancestors treated and utilized the land seems a difficult task and asks that I look at privileges and conveniences that have all manifested in my life due to the actions of those in the past. I can be certain if school taught me anything, that my English and Spanish ancestors stole lands from Indiginess peoples, enslaved peoples of color, and fought many, many wars over the control and ownership of land and natural resources all over the planet. Yikes. The conclusion I gather from this without going too far into those gorey details is that my ancestors treated Earth as a commodity to survive, exploit, own, consume, utilize, benefit from and for colonial developments. There were surely religious manifestos that drove this as well. The part I kept coming back to when thinking about our relationship to the Earth is this idea of commodification of natural resources. The value of Earth. It happened then, and it happens now. Mining, depletion of the ocean's aquatic life, blowing up thousands of land acres to insert a shiny new oil pipeline, poisonous plastics, rainforests chopped down to the point of non-existence, and this goes on and on like some twisted grocery list. To quote the fascinating Chief Joseph: "What we do to the Earth, we do to ourselves.".
Found in Monterey, CA. A 3 year anniversary present to my partner :)
What we do to our environment, our bodies, our friends, our families, our neighborhoods, our homes, is what we do to the planet. We exist because of it and within it and we never truly separate from it. We may think in our human ways that we are above or seperate, but we never really are. In studying the Tao Te Ching (an ancient Chinese philosophy and way of life), I discovered that nature is one living organism and that Taoists believed in the 'art of life'. It's an acceptance of being and existing, of honoring what is here. Beyond the commodification of nature, what can be said about inspiration born from it? There are countless human inventions that not only were created utilizing the resources at hand, but inspired by actual naturally occuring designs. In other belief systems, the practice of burning sage plants, marijuana, palo santo, cedar, etc. all provides ritual for connecting with nature and beyond. Some people utilize crystals and stones to feel energies, while others believe in sipping moon 'charged' water for blessings. Christians are baptized in water and born again. Some cultures utilize shells and other natural objects to use in ceremonies as jewelry. A friend gifted me a carved jade stone necklace. People seek spiritual awakenings by utilizing naturally occurring psychedelic 'drugs'. Women choose to give birth in tubs of water to provide their babies with a more natural occurring birth. Indoor gardens with artificial grow lights exist to provide our pot bound plants with the environment they need to survive without being outside. As much as we have severed our connection with the Earth, we have also found ways to return to her, mimic her, and connect with her.
This oyster likely lived a nice life. I consumed it on Valentine's Day 2 years ago and tucked the shell in my purse like the weirdo artist I am.
So what is the value of nature and body? I seek to honor the natural objects I chose to turn into canvases. Is it possible to take an unassuming, broken seashell and turn it into something of value? Or, is it that the value of the shell is all subjective. To the creature who called it home, me painting it's remains has no value because the creature is dead. To the passerby on the beach, it's ugly and not worthy as a souvenir. To the friends I give these objects to, there could be value in the nostalgia and/ or aesthetic. To the windowsill or houseplant that gets the painted seashell placed upon it, there is no direct value, but as a holder of the object, I am given limitless value. Ultimately, the value lies in the fact that the thing exists, in any form or purpose. There is value knowing that all vessels / bodies and matter change. Whether it be through the sands of time, consumption, or alteration. It's our responsibilities as humans, to protect what is part of us.
These seashells were given to me by my Grandma. I think they were given to her by Spanish relatives.
A gift for a friend. We spent the day celebrating our friendship at a Lake on Mt. Hood. We carried the rock back from the mountain and I attempted to paint the birdseye view of the lake that day. Complete with two pink hearts to show where we sat.
All my lovely specimens... to date
Regardless of my ancestry, spirituality, and profession, I wonder what will happen to my bones. I wonder what directions my matter will go and what I'll become when I cease to own my body in this form. Working on these natural objects was meditative from start to finish. Each was carefully cleaned and held. Then I spent time identifying the sections of each specimen that I wanted to paint on and applying watercolor canvas paste. When painting each object, I would shift from thinking about where it had been up until the point it was in my hand to getting lost in the act of painting. This process took over two months to complete and each one is truly a unique work of art. No two objects are the same, no two people are the same, and there is only one planet Earth. We can begin to heal with her if we accept that everything around us has value. Painted or not. Sold or found. Owned or free. We need to see our natural resources as a precious, unique gift and not take more than we need. In David Attenbourough's Our Planet series, he notes that crucial connections are being disrupted all across our planet and the stability we depend on is being lost. What we do in the next 20 years will determine the future of all life on Earth. As individuals and a collective body, I hope we can see the value in returning to a symbiotic relationship with Earth and the beauty of the ordinary.
