Artist Talk | Nikki McClure: Something About the Sky and Other Wonderings

Introduction

Introduction

Welcome to Beama, everyone. My name is Jenna, and I'm the Education and Community Engagement lead here. Please take a moment and make sure that your phones are in silent mode. We're thrilled to have Nikki McClure here with us today. There will be time for audience questions and answers at the end, followed by a book signing in our Beastro. Everyone is welcome to stay until 5:00 PM when our reception and artist party starts for all the new exhibiting artists, including Nikki.

Acknowledgement of Land

We would like to begin with the words of Chief Seattle: "Every part of this soil is sacred in the estimation of my people. Every hillside, every valley, every plain and grove has been hallowed by some sad or happy event in days long vanished." Let's now acknowledge that the land on which we gather is within the ancestral territory of the Squab people—expert fishermen, canoe builders, and basket weavers who live in harmony with the lands and waterways along Washington's Central Salish Sea as they have for thousands of years.

Introduction to Nikki McClure

Artist and author Nikki McClure's solo exhibition here at Beama, "Something About the Sky and Other Wonderings," features more than 70 of her original papercut artworks. Please join me in welcoming her.

Talk by Nikki McClure

Thank you, everyone, for making your way here. It's so good to be here. I'm just going to take my shoes off now. I really wanted to be here today, and I’m glad you all decided the same.

I'm going to read something that I wrote yesterday for you all because this picture is called "Drift," which is from my calendar series and is the image for this month of this year—for now:

July 12th, 2014: Blake Island to Bainbridge Island

I drift. Raccoons roll over rocks as the tide creeps up. I don't need to look at a clock to know that it's morning on this island. Islands are often thought of as solitary and independent, but this island has stories tangled and torn and not fully mended. This place is not separate; it is part of a longer story than this one.

We carry a boat that is light enough to make carrying a boat thinkable, to a place high among toppled tree roots, for this clear water will rise. The raccoons will disappear into the forest edge to nap and digest and plan their next meal. We will wander, pondering pioneer history and culture as entertainment, exchange, or economics, wondering what this forest really was full of before.

We'll find some berries and then even more on trails too hilly for most. And we will walk and wonder together, lost in time on the edge of summer—these endless days of sun and shade. And we will get lost. No sign or map or plan to guide us, just crashing waves and the wind above to give direction.

We'll stumble out from the forested shade to bright light and piles of hot driftwood. Water just touches the rocks. We cast off our shoes and dive in, fingers tingling from the cold, the burning hot of a refreshing deep chill. We'd swim forever, but there is no forever. Summer is finite; there is only now. So we swim now, and now, and now, and now again, until my wrists stop working.

Still, I swim in this clear salt water. It's why I am here, this moment now. I swim until the last possibility, feeling the warm layer deepen as fathoms become inches, and I pop up now only ankle deep. Then we wobble to the shady edge and look out on summer. The heat expands; the distant horizon stretches and distorts what we see, and we drift off into no thinking.

Until the boat that brought us here so long ago begins to bob and would drift away if not tethered for this future need. The tide is high. It’s July 12th, and it's time to sail to another island, itself complicated and entangled—to Bainbridge, to Squish's clear saltwater.

I’m very thankful for being here today with all of you on this island under this sky, surrounded by these waters, to drift and wonder with each of you.

Thank you, Nicky. There are various paper cutting art and craft traditions—Chinese, Mexican, German, Japanese, among others. Could you speak to those that most speak to you?

Sure. When I started out exploring paper cutting, I had no idea it was such an ancient art form practiced by people all around the world. Of the paper cutting styles, mine is most aligned with a Japanese aesthetic or technique. I find this interesting because we both share the Pacific coastline, and our styles seem to mirror each other naturally. But in essence, my work is its own, part of a larger global tradition.

Your calendars go back to the 1990s. They're often associated with planning, yet your work seems more like a call to presence. How do you perceive planning versus presence in your calendars?

My early calendars did have space for planning, but I shifted focus. They're now more about staying present. I wanted people to look across the room and know what day it is—grounding them in the moment.

I read that as a child, you read books about nature in the Northeast, and you wanted to create art and books reflective of your Pacific Northwest homeland. Do you see this as an imprint from your youth, or was it a lucky coincidence?

Our appreciation of place does grow within us over time. As a kid, I loved berries and the outdoors. Studying at Evergreen State College helped foster my connection to local natural history. My sense of place deepened as I learned more about the flora and fauna around me.

Let's talk about your new book, "Something About the Sky." Could you walk us through its creation process?

"Something About the Sky" originated when Orion Magazine asked me to illustrate an article by Rachel Carson. I found the excerpt compelling and proposed turning it into a children's book. After some legal back-and-forth, we got approval. Creating the book was an exhilarating challenge—working with painted papers and the uncertainty of each cut. It was like conversing with the paper and Rachel Carson herself, a truly dynamic experience.

I read this quote from Rachel Carson's book: "Without clouds, all water would remain forever in the sea from which our early ancestors emerged more than 300 million years ago. Without clouds and rain, the continents would have remained barren and uninhabited, and perhaps life would never have evolved beyond the fishes." It reminds me of the documentary "One Strange Rock," which highlights the interconnectedness of water cycles, dust, and life. What are your thoughts on this?

It’s remarkable. In Carson's writing, she speaks of the ocean of air and currents that shape our world. It's all interlinked—the land, sea, and sky. Such revelations reinforce the sense of wonder and interconnectedness in our natural world.

Conclusion and Audience Q&A

In conclusion, Nikki shared her experiences creating the book and discussed her inspiration. The audience asked questions like “What month is your birthday?” Nikki revealed it is July. Others inquired about her process of cutting paper, to which she elaborated on her adventures with painted paper. One participant asked how she overlapped her personal and professional life, to which Nikki explained her love for giving through her art, although admitted she sometimes can be stingy with her relatives.

Lastly, Nikki reflected on her relationship with the raw and unpolished, her roots in the riot grrrl movement, and how she keeps the flame alive through the now and the wonderings of the future.

Keywords

• Nikki McClure
• Paper cutting
• Rachel Carson
• Something About the Sky
• Calendar Art
• Wonderings
• Present Moment
• Nature
• Pacific Northwest

FAQ

Q: What inspired Nikki McClure to create "Something About the Sky"?
A: Nikki was invited to illustrate an article by Rachel Carson for Orion Magazine, leading her to propose turning it into a children's book.

Q: How does Nikki McClure's calendar art emphasize presence?
A: While traditional calendars focus on planning, Nikki's are designed to ground people in the present moment, helping them feel the current day and date without over-planning.

Q: What influenced Nikki McClure's aesthetic in her paper cutting art?
A: Though influenced by global traditions like Japanese paper cutting, Nikki's unique aesthetic reflects her Pacific Northwest roots and a personal style.

Q: How does Nikki balance her personal and professional life in her artwork?
A: Nikki enjoys making art for a wider audience but also values making personal pieces for friends and family, although she sometimes feels she could be more generous with them.

Q: What advice does Nikki McClure have for parents and teachers reading "Something About the Sky" to children?
A: Engage children in wondering about the sky, ask questions, and encourage them to explore and connect with nature without providing all the answers immediately.