Today is cool and damp, a breeze slowly moving the tree limbs, and the occasional spit of rain. There’s a low pressure system southeast of us, just close enough to be felt. Had it come straight up the coast we would have had a very welcome nor’easter.

This morning we joined friends for breakfast in the village. This group has been getting together for several years, well; before our arrival. When we get together politics is usually a goodly part of the conversation, but since the elections the group hasn’t met much. Politics came up today but did not directly dominate the rap; rather it was a sort of noxious presence in the background.

I awoke this morning thinking about friends who are on call to witness ICE raids. They are doing crucial work on behalf of targeted groups. Given my lack of mobility I am hesitant to put myself in situations where I might be a target. Given the racism and pugnaciousness of the current administration, I find knowing how to be helpful to those most in need, difficult, so I write. That is also a form of witnessing.

Jennie and I have essentially finished the art piece, an artists’ book, which will go into the “Collaborations” group show in a couple of weeks. I got together with some of the other exhibiting artists last night; some have finished their pieces while others are madly trying to. It seems that much of the work will reference, abet subtlety, the present madness in our country.

While we make the final tweaks, I am working on the sound that will accompany the visual piece. I’m in one of those spaces where I work on a composition, like it, then find it too much like everything else I am composing right now. I often find myself exploring the nuances within a range of sound gestures for a goodly period of time, then moving on to something very different. Right now though I just want to compose something that surprises me. Fortunately, others are also planning to present sound as part of their contribution to the exhibit.

We shall see where this all goes. In the meanwhile, here is our artists’ statement for our contribution to the show:

We live in a beautiful, threatened place. This year we again find ourselves in a summer drought; what just a few years ago would have been anomalous is now almost routine. Each spring there seems to be less bird song, each summer fewer butterflies. At the same time our government insists nothing is changing.

Our lives are dense weavings of place, memory, others, and story. Our work is a reflection upon this ancient truth. We go out into the world on a daily basis and notice the profound changes taking place in our landscape. The seasons are askew, and diversity and complexity are in precipitous decline. The words we might use to describe our threatened ecosystems and human communities are as threatened as the natural environment.

Our collaboration is an attempt to interweave the lived experiences of three generations and three cultures. Herein, there is nature and the people made environment. There is joy, sorrow, and perseverance. Interwoven throughout is the legacy of genocide and the evil of denial.

Within our work are images made and borrowed, words we wrote, and words taken from our ancestors. Within these pages are layers upon layers of lived experience: love, hope, fear, creativity, and joy. There are memories of landscapes loved and lost, and hopes that much may yet be saved. There are vows, promises, hopes, fears and observations about the lived moment from across decades and generations.

These pages are filled with the dangerous words and images that aid us in holding on to our connections to generations of family, the beauty and mystery of nature, the richness of our diverse cultures, and the deep truths that guide us in an age of lies.

As we finalize this artists statement we acknowledge that because it contains forbidden words it would be barred from inclusion in any activity of the National Endowment for the Arts. As of the most recent count we have seen, there are almost three hundred forbidden words, including the words: “woman”, “disabled”, and “Native,” words essential to our identities.