For California-based artistDay Schildkret, the answer comes from practicing art out in natural landscapes.
These beautiful, impermanent works of land art helped him connect with nature and heal his broken heart.
Schildkret is now dedicated to creating a new Morning Altar every day.
However, just like Tibetan sand mandalas and Hindu rangoli, Schildkrets nature art is ephemeral.
It is an honest dialogue between the human and non-human world and an ever-changing conversation with moving pieces.
Schildkret hopes his land art will encourage others to reconnect with nature.
We recently caught up with Schildkret to ask more about his Morning Altars.
Read on for My Modern Mets exclusive interview.
Have you always had an affinity for nature?
They just seemed so helpless to me.
But what was remarkable for a 5-year-old was that I also adorned each hole.
I guess my love for nature emerged from an instinct to use art to help something.
When I am in nature, I never feel alone.
Actually, I feel a great sense of belonging, like I’m finally home.
I get to fall in love with the subtleties of the world again.
Can you tell me a bit about your Altars and what inspired you to start making them?
Actually, art as a ritual was something I did for years before this.
These impermanent creations gave my birthdays so much meaning.
I was so taken by their beauty because they looked like they were painted with watercolor.
Something inside of me said to sit down and just arrange the mushrooms into something symmetrical.
I added eucalyptus bark and buttons.
By making order out of randomness, I felt more in control.
I looked at my watch and an hour went by in a flash.
I looked down and saw an exquisite pattern made out of what was growing and died around that tree.
And in that moment, I dedicated it.
Like a gift, I offered it to heal my broken heart.
For the first time in many months, I felt lighter, like my grief wasn’t so heavy.
30 days came and went and I had no interest in stopping.
What I wasn’t expecting was the international response I received.
What started out as a very personal process had ripples around the world.
How long do they take to make?
And do you plan them first or let them evolve as you go?
First off, I never ever plan in advance.
I don’t just go to the store and buy more.
The material is discovered, alive and changing and so is the environment.
It’s all unpredictable.
I need to be very sensitive to the moment, to what is available and what isn’t.
By proceeding without a plan, it puts me in a very intimate relationship with the natural world.
We are speaking to one another and collaborating together.
The size of each piece depends.
Recently, I made two huge altars in the center of the Hammerstein Ballroom in New York City.
They were commissioned by Lab/Shul, a big Jewish community for their High Holiday services.
It brought the outdoors inside.
You could smell the wet soil in the theatre which was totally hypnotic.
To me, the most powerful part of the ritual was witnessing people return to wonder.
How could leaves do that?
How could there be this much treasure found in a city?!
This will only be around for a couple more hours??
I like it when people awaken to a sense of childlike wonder with our living world.
How do you feel about the fact that your art will disappear over time?
Heartbroken, grateful, frustrated, enlivened.
Sometimes it disappears over long periods of time and sometimes it happens while I’m actually making it.
It also helps me exercise a desire to persevere in the face of change.
I was so proud of what I accomplished with only an hour left before everyone showed up.
As much as I want it to last forever, it doesn’t.
So, when I witness my art’s ephemerality, I get to love it even more so.
Impermanence says to me: Don’t take anything for granted.
Love it now while it’s still here.
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