Gallery of Hope

Just days before the 2017 Winter Solstice, I had the good fortune to see the writer, environmental activist, and personal heroine of mine, Terry Tempest Williams, speak about her activism and her newest book at the time, The Hour of Land. She’d come to the suburbs of Washington, DC on her book tour at a time of significant upheaval in terms of environmental and domestic politics. She gave a riveting talk filled with grounding truths and inspiring advice on being present, active, and vocal—reinforcing that every individual has certain gifts to bring to the table to engage and affect change in our own spheres, for the good of all creatures, lands, and waters.  

The most powerful moment of the evening came when she shared a story of the intersection of nature and art. She told of an experience she had had during a drive through a national park on her way to her homestead in Utah with her husband, Brooke. They had come to a stop in a line of cars winding their way through the park due to a large herd of bison taking their time crossing an arterial road that bisected their territory. Wiliams had been listening to a new arrangement of Vivaldi’s Four Seasons, composed by contemporary German composer, Max Richter. Richter had added a full baseline of instrumentation to the beloved piece, creating a new depth and energy that emanated from the car as she and Brooke rolled their windows down to take in the slow parade of majestic animals.   

At this moment in her story, Williams paused and asked for us to close our eyes as she pulled the music up on her laptop and played the first few minutes of the piece, letting it fill the silent hall – all of us in rapt attention. It was a profoundly moving experience in nature, translated and transported for a moment to a community center in Reston, Virginia – at once a call to action and a reminder to pause, be present, and find grounding in the mysterious and marvelous gifts of art and nature all around us. Williams had likely shared this at every one of her speaking engagements that fall and winter as she toured the country, but it didn’t make it any less profound for each one of us who experienced it with her.  

Earlier this month, as we began to gather our thoughts for this Winter Solstice pause and spoke of the Gallery of Hope idea, I couldn’t help but recall this experience, and the inspiration it instilled in me to seek solace in nature in the simplest of moments and to find joy, hope, and calls to action in the creation and sharing of art. It is not merely the comfort these things bring, but the space they provide for activism and connection with others—the opportunity to question held beliefs and find common ground. The team reflections I had the honor to review for this gallery run the gamut of experiences, but the common thread is the sense of connection we find in community and in nature and all of its wonders.  

In this, our work, I find continued inspiration in the circle of life seen in a spider’s web on a crisp early fall morning in rural North Carolina during a recent field visit or finding a native namesake flower on a field walk along a stream corridor in Louisville, Kentucky on newly appointed preserve lands. I find it in the empty carapace of a cicada come to the surface after 17 years below ground as I walk my neighborhood streets, and in the ever-changing beauty of the sunsets from my west-facing windows. I find it in the peace of watercolors swirling on the page as I work on translating a view I find particularly inspiring onto paper.  

Hope is also in the next generation. Earlier this month I took my nephews, aged 5 and 2, on a forest walk looking for crow’s foot (Southern Ground Cedar, Diphasiastrum digitatum) in the forested floodplain behind my childhood home. It is in this youngest generation that I continue to find hope as they marvel at the smallest things in the natural world, exploring and learning and sharing their joy so freely. And it is in the youngest generation of environmental and civil rights activists I read about in the headlines almost daily that I am reminded of the unquenchable spirit they hold for justice through clearer eyes than those of us who have perhaps become a bit jaded and cynical. These folks will help remind us of the potential we each have to affect change.  

These may be challenging times for so many reasons, both here at home and around the globe, but I have hope that we will all continue to seek ways to stay engaged and activated in the hard work that is needed by finding the profound in the bounty of natural wonders we have around us and within ourselves.