Ariana

@resonance-archive.bsky.social

Sculptor, printmaker, sound artist. Art/design educator.

This was so moving and a reminder that we don’t have to live in a world without rituals, without attunement to the seasons, without ways of calling back to the Earth and offering something of ourselves. We can live an a world teeming with life💫❄️

Kalli Anderson @kallipearl.bsky.social · last yr.

Thanks to everyone who came out to celebrate the premiere of my piece Orchard Chorus with a wassail-inspired performance on Sunday. And thank you to Nika of Greenpoint Cidery and the Oral History Summer School and Wave Farm for the support of this project. (Online audio to come)

People walking in a line on a path in a snowy field

I've seen power users who post a lot on Bluesky forget to add alt-text. I know new habits are hard, but taking a few extra seconds to add alt-text to images increases accessibility for many other users and the site's experience overall. Please make a consistent effort to add alt-text to images.

Karen K. Ho@karenho.bsky.social · 2y ago

If you're not used to writing alt text for every image, I found it helpful to enable this accessibility setting on both desktop and the Bluesky mobile app. The point is to be descriptive, as it helps users who visually impaired and blind, as well as users who have muted specific words or phrases.

A screenshot of Bluesky's accessibility settings for desktop. Under Alt text, the blue slider has been shifted to the right next to the text that says "Require alt text before posting". The setting underneath says "Display larger alt text badges"

As smooth as glass and hidden in plain sight. Handmade and embossed cotton and abaca fiber paper with embedded wood shavings from driftwood found on the shores of Lake Michigan. I’m excited about this little experiment and can’t wait to make more.

This week, I’m in the last stretch of installing a big project I’ve been working on for months. This is one tiny part: Electrolyte Shield [homeostasis], 2025, Salvaged Tetrapak, stainless steel jump rings, hand-carved poplar wood, petrified wood, stone, drift wood, water.

A sheet made from small rectangular fragments of recycled, metallic, tetrapak packaging material held together by tiny stainless steel jump rings rests on a concrete floor. Various sculptural objects rest on its surface: a hand-carved bowl holds water and a floating piece of driftwood, chunks of petrified wood and a single smooth, oblong stone are cast like dice.

For a long time, I’ve anticipated the collapse (or weakening/fracturing or coopting) of current U.S. arts funding streams. Federal, state, and local grant funding, & academic/institutional funding, but also the withdrawal of private foundations afraid of getting caught in political cross-hairs

Truly one of the few things keeping me from sliding into dysfunction and inaction is the physical, bodily pleasure of making things. I treat my art practice more like a bodily function—like eating or drinking water than as as an activity that distracts from urgent community work, mutual aid, etc.

Thinking about her: little Lake Michigan driftwood fragment swimming in a new tiny, inland sea. Part of a larger work I’m still building out in the studio this month about cold water swimming as pain relief. 🌀

A short, curved stick from the shores of Lake Michigan floats within a hand-carved wooden bowl, the bottom of which is textured, echoing a rocky, sandy lake floor. The object rests on a quilt made from reflective, recycled tetrapak fragments

I love seeing people’s art but I also love hearing the ways artists think. For visual artists newly arriving to text based platforms & missing image-sharing, I offer some ways to lean into this form as it is:

It was amazing to see the multiple bylines below headlines about the impact of the fires on artists and the art community in LA from the NYTimes and Hyperallergic. It also highlighted the difference in resources compared to ARTnews.

Some questions I’m working with in my practice: How does it feel to be porous? For the membrane that separates your body from its environment to thin, tear, or dissolve? What do we absorb in this state of vulnerability? What if this sublime merging is also the byproduct of pain, injury, or illness?

I’ve been thinking a lot about the mixed feelings many people are holding about the necessity of virtual spaces for community organizing and the dissemination of creative work—which for many artists, writers, scholars, etc—are intertwined.

Go find your local mutual aid group. Who is feeding folks? Who is doing housing work? Who is showing up to defend unhoused folks from sweeps? Who is distributing narcan? Who is coordinating rides for people to get to the doctor? Find those people, in your community, and show up.

In reading about about artists impacted by the fires, I think first of the many artists who already live in precarious conditions, who, for example, routinely lose parts of their own archives to housing instability. I appreciate these pieces recognizing LA artists as workers / community members.

Karen K. Ho@karenho.bsky.social · 2y ago

I spoke to two artists who lost their homes due to fires and reported on how many other artists, art galleries, and art professionals evacuated and experienced losses from the ongoing fires in Los Angeles: www.artnews.com/art-news/new...