In August 2011 I traveled from Lake Constance, Germany, to Bernheim Arboretum in Clermont, Kentucky, USA, for a 3-month stay as an artist-in-residence (www.bernheim.org). My sixth residency, but the first where I did not have a chainsaw in my suitcase: Arboretum means not only"collection of trees", but also a collection of arborists and therefore a collection of chain saws.
Each of my previous residencies had its advantages. In general, disadvantages were few, and if there were any, upon some contemplation they turned out to be beneficial or were made so.
My first residency in 2004, at Kolin Ryynänen, Koli, North Karelia, Finland (www.pktaidetoimikunta.net) involved snowy winter months with internet access in the only supermarket where I jockeyed with 2 local young people around the square to have a chance at the computer. Regular snowfall worked wonders on my sense of order: anything left behind (tree trunks, tools, sleds) was untraceable after a night under the open sky.
In Neuchâtel, in French-speaking Switzerland (www.visarte.ch), the apartment / studio in the middle of town overlooking the lake was wonderful but completely unsuitable for work with a chainsaw. I was forced to find a place outside city limits and, as a consequence, met the best Swiss forester who has been supplying me now for some years with spectacular wood.
In Kristiansand, Norway (www.agderkunst.no), a studio apartment in the historic district initially charmed me, but the attempt to operate an electric chainsaw in the back yard reliably led to power failure. So, I looked outside and found a sawmill above the industrial port that looked out at a Norwegian nickel plant. Sadly, the beautiful view was a bit tainted once I learned that this nickel plant was listed as a number-one target for possible terrorist attacks.
There were two more residencies, but rather on the short side (2 and 4 weeks, respectively); since I am making a case for long residencies, I will describe them no further.
Residencies give me the opportunity to jump into a new environment, one usually associated with the need to use a foreign language or to learn the most necessary words - chainsaw / chain / gas / cut (only 1x, in Finnish). Laboriously learned, the words then quickly disappear from my vocabulary. Only the Norwegian Billedhugger (sculptor) has carved itself permanently into my brain. But the impressions, experiences and created sculptures remain permanently.
I like to meet other artists during residencies, either in their studios or at my own temporary worksite. At three of my previous engagements, I had very dedicated artist coordinators, who had alerted the artists in the area prior to my arrival. Those residencies started with a lunch, dinner, or at least a round of introductions with local artists and from the very beginning allowed me contact with the local art scene. My invitations ranged from exhibitions, to studios, to conversations over a beer, a drink in the sauna, and even to ice fishing. Sometimes, it was up to me to make the contacts – which I always managed to do. It just took a little longer, and, in remote places without internet access, it did not happen until the very last two or three weeks.
Wood. During previous residencies, it was my own responsibility to find the material to work with. Usually, I was successful once I got the phone number of a forester. Interestingly, I never managed it from Germany: I had to be on site. In Finland, it was surprisingly difficult to get raw material. Kolin Ryynänen is situated in a national park which did not allow the cutting of trees. In Norway I could not find a forester as most forests are privately owned. However, I found a wonderful ceramicist who shared her wood supplies with me. By contrast, at Bernheim Arboretum and Research Forest, it happened more than once that I left my work space for lunch or a hike and upon returning found the number of logs had doubled!
The places I work usually are improvised and outdoors: next to a sauna overlooking a harbor, between tractors. Usually, this is part of the challenge of a residency: making the best of the circumstances is crucial to the experience. Happily, the Bernheim Arboretum puts location, wood, and tools (which can also be scarce) readily at hand.
Some of my residencies included an exhibition of works created on-site. In my case, this is not always good: I fall easily into the trap of having to create enough work for an exhibition and rely on "successful" forms instead of using the time as planned to develop something completely new. If no exhibition is scheduled and it turns out there are enough pieces to be shown, I have often had good experiences with finding exhibition spaces myself, and local artists have always been helpful. I have found that when I am in an area only for a limited time, it is almost paradoxically easier to get an exhibition opportunity than it is at home. I suspect this is because an artist-in-residence is no real for local artists, while curiosity about and hospitality towards out-of-towners also play a real role.
How best to make contact? My residencies have been granted upon both invitations (twice) or upon applications (4 times). The applications were not always successful the first time. For example, I had sent my first application for a residency at the Bernheim Arboretum in 2003 – and re-applied almost every year after that.
Finances, too, require planning. For all my residencies, I had free accommodation plus free work space, with two, a small stipend was included, as well. Travel expenses may also require applications for independent funding. Bernheim Arboretum facilitates the work by including the use of a car (and gasoline), telephone and the use of all kinds of tools. I am pleased to say this comes with an enormously friendly, helpful and knowledgeable team that mounts sculptures, paints pedestals, marks exhibitions, and also arranges Bourbon tastings and potluck dinners to introduce the German visitor to Kentucky-style food.
Since 1980, Bernheim Arboretum has offered one or two residencies per year. Most visiting artists were painters or photographers, some environmental/land artists. Sculptors, like me, have been few, even though for we who work directly with wood, it is perfect: even in an arboretum, trees must be felled for safety reasons and there is a 14-hectare natural forest, where storm-felled logs are abundant. Complementing the natural setting are fifty very friendly and helpful employees, countless volunteers, and an artist's cabin on the arboretum grounds near a small lake that is shared only with frogs and snapping turtles. Arboretum and forest offer 32 miles of hiking trails, observation towers, and many events (e.g. festivals, night hikes, astronomy strolls) while the employees often find time to give professionally guided tours of the grounds. In sum, it is the perfect place to nurture my art and my soul.
Neighbors are scarce, including a bourbon distillery and a church (both quite inactive in the evening) as well as the arboretum grounds. Therefore, after nightfall, the artist shares the grounds only with cicadas, groundhogs, deer, chipmunks and the like. The artist's cabin is internet-and TV-free, so the stay remains exactly what I seek: time for art, as well as new experiences. These include many kinds of wood I had never seen or touched before, let alone had under my chainsaw. Each log is an experiment!
I have re-visited all the places of my previous residencies, but find this place special: even if distant, I will most definitely return to Bernheim Arboretum in Kentucky.
Heike Endemann