Third Way of Seeing

Mountain Lake

In the summer of 2022, I had the incredible opportunity to take part in an artist residency at Mountain Lake Biological Research Station on the top of a thickly forested mountain in south west Virginia. All I brought with me were warm clothes and my art supplies with no plan of what works I wanted to make. This residency came after my first year back with in person classes at the University of Virginia following the living hell that was Covid 19 quarantine. Given the circumstances, the year was emotionally and creatively draining, so going into Mountain Lake, my art practice felt lost.

A few days into our stay a group of us artists decided to branch away from the cabins and research labs to venture through the many trails surrounding the station. About a half mile into the hike, our collective stopped, found comfortable moss covered rocks, and sat mediums in hand ready to depict the environment we had infiltrated. This immersive experience was meditative as the only sound was that of a natural orchestra of wind moving through trees, unidentifiable birds and bugs chirping, and small woodland creatures rustling leaves as they went about their uninterrupted daily routines. It is incredible how clear and pure the air is up there, and I will never forget the damp rich forest scent. I have yet to visit anywhere else that is so untouched by man. On that hike we were witnesses to the natural world and tried with our limited time to take it all in and produce something that might somehow preserve a fraction of that same peace.Wordlessly, each of us in unison recognized that our time there had come to an end, so we each packed up our supplies and prepared for the hike back. The meditative experience reminded me of leaving an especially moving church service where everyone is compelled to remain silent, not yet ready to disrupt the meditative state. How could I move forward after feeling such a connection to the energy of that place?

I do not remember who saw it first, but after another few minutes of hiking, we were abruptly stopped by the sight of something unexpected through the trees. The scene looked carefully crafted like something divine had framed its existence in much the same way that artists design their compositions. I remember thinking how out of place this splash of orange and yellow looked amidst the field of rich green and earth tones. Despite the warnings of the researchers, we agreed that it was worth wandering off the safety of the trail to get a closer look. The orange and yellow colors were radiating from a five feet tall stretch of mushrooms clinging like shelves along the trunk of one of the larger trees in that area of forest. I was hit with a feeling of awe at its beauty and wondered about its purpose. Simultaneously I was frustrated by my lack of knowledge of the fungi before me. I was fascinated but had no answers, so I snapped a few photos intent on inquiring more when we returned to the station.Chicken of the woods. I was told by one of the researchers that was the name of the mushrooms we had seen on our adventure. Laetiporus sulphureus is its scientific name, and as it turns out the fruit body of the fungus, the shelves we encountered, are edible and taste similar to chicken when fried in a pan. Upon learning this, we kicked ourselves for missing the opportunity to harvest the precious mushrooms for an afternoon snack.

The first few days at MLBS I struggled to find inspiration for my paintings mostly because I was overwhelmed by the energy of the space. Being surrounded by a nostalgic natural world and these people who cared so intensely about understanding the complexities of it, filled me deeply but made it difficult to nail down what I should focus on. The chicken of the woods became a subject for me to ground my emotions into. It became the icon for Mountain Lake and all I experienced there. I spent the majority of those two weeks sitting outside for a couple hours each day slowly and meticulously painting from the photos I took of the mushrooms. Using acrylic paint, I mixed a single shade at a time and built up around 20 thin layers of paint until an image of the mushrooms appeared floating over a white abyss. It was the first time in over a year I painted something for myself without trying to impress or please anyone, and for that the painting has had a lasting impact on me and my art practice. I will never forget my feeling of fulfillment after completing the small painting. Those two weeks came and went, but months later I still could not shake the impact being in those woods and painting those mushrooms had on me. I began to interrogate myself asking why I felt so connected to the subject of the work and if it is possible for me to replicate those feelings. This interrogation led me to look more deeply into the Fungi Kingdom and in doing so I found much more than I ever expected. I was introduced to all the possibilities that fungi have to offer through the way they connect the natural world and their seemingly magical networks of mycelium. Experimentation within my art practice is the avenue through which I am exploring the philosophies of these mushrooms in much the same way that scientific experiments are performed within a lab. As I scratch the surface of this research and filter the study of fungi through my perspective and experiences as a nonbinary artist, I am creating works that explore this unique intersection.

Mycology

Before engaging in this research, I saw fungi as merely the kingdom of decayers whose sole purpose was to break down dead things, infect the food left in my fridge for too long, and occasionally give people psychedelic visuals. This one sided perspective is woefully ignorant of the millions of species of fungi that exist in vastly different forms performing an extensive range of functions that scientists are still and will continue to study for many years to come (Simard 48). It is true that many species of fungi play a crucial role in breaking down dead leaves and organisms adding energy and nutrients back into the ecosystem; however, fungi can and do offer the world so much more.

When an average person sees a mushroom, it is easy for them to look no further than the basic color, shape, and edibility of the fruit body; however, fungi are more than the mushrooms that make themselves known by breaching the surface of rich soil or tree bark; in fact, the fruit bodies we see are merely the evidence of a thriving fungal system below the surface that has excess energy to invest in reproductive fruits who spread millions of DNA-filled spores in hopes of stretching the fungi’s existence (Roody 1). The greater body of the fungus is made up of microscopic interconnected threads or hyphae that together are called mycelium and can stretch great distances under the exposed fruit body while seeking nutrients for the fungus (Roody 1). These fungal networks allow trees to not only connect but communicate through chemical signals sent via mycelium in the same way the neurons in our brains make connections and send signals along their pathways (Simard 5). In the digital age, there seems to be no escape from the many technological networks that have found their way into almost every aspect of our lives, digitally connecting us most notably through the compact computers we each have in our smartphones. Within this context, it is refreshing to reflect on the wireless natural connections happening all around us.

The study of mushrooms creates a third way of seeing by breaking down how an ecosystem exists simultaneously as a collection of organisms coexisting in a shared environment as well as a singular network of connections struggling to maintain the balance of life and death for all of the fungal, plant, and by extension insect and animal life who make up that space. Fungi are the peacekeepers and mediators of this world. They keep peace by maintaining a horizontal structure of systems that share information and resources over great distances and by connecting and sharing with many organisms rather than trying to survive singularly by sustaining vertical growth. As individual hyphae search for sources of nutrients, they branch outward continuously dividing and going multiple directions simultaneously rather than choosing between individual paths. This means, despite the apparent contradiction, fungi exist as both singular and plural beings. (Sheldrake 45). Each hyphae works and moves individually for the benefit of the collective system. Even in their functions, fungi defy logic by acting as both agents of decay, breaking down biomaterials as well as agents of cultivation, encouraging regrowth across the ecosystem by recycling rich nutrients and energy back into the soil and connecting the organisms that need these resources. The expansiveness of the reach mycelium networks cannot be understated as billions of hyphae can extend within just a football sized patch of woods in much the same way that the web of blood vessels weaving within a human body can stretch for thousands of miles if not contained within the body. (Sheldrake 46).

Understanding this reveals how fungi disrupt the idea that material things can be measured as the billions of mycelium network connections are too vast to fully understand outside of near microscopic sample sizes. An example of how fungi cultivate growth can be seen in a category of fungi known as mycorrhizal fungi whose members work as cooperators and mediators for other organisms (Simard 61). One species that can be defined as a mycorrhizal fungus is a Rhizopogon or “false truffle” who’s fungal threads will grow towards and attach to the roots of trees on a cellular level entering the organisms into a symbiotic relationship. The Rhizopogon as a fungus uses its collection of hyphae to spread through the top layer of soil in search of water, carbon, and nutrient sources to feed from. Trees similarly send out their root systems to bring in water and nutrients to fuel their photosynthesis; however, it takes the tree much more energy than the fungi to push their thick roots through the earth to access water. In dry seasons and areas, these trees often become unable to allocate enough energy towards their roots to find the volume of water needed to survive. This is where the Rhizopogon comes in. This mycorrhizal fungus becomes a middle man giving the tree access to water and other resources through its expansive and intelligent network of hyphae. In return the fungus is able to feed on the trees’ sugar and nutrients created through photosynthesis. By investing in a relationship with this fungus, the tree has access to more water while spending less energy than if it were trying to extend its own roots in search of those resources (Simard 60). Unlike tree roots, the near microscopic hyphae not only grow great distances but also are able to restructure themselves based on where resources are found. Experiments have shown how hyphae begin exploratively growing outward in all directions in search of a source of fuel. Once a discovery has been made, the hyphae will send that information throughout the entire mycelium system, so the collection of hyphae as a whole redirects itself away from radial exploration and instead grows toward the new fuel source (Sheldrake 46). The fungus’s method is much more efficient because tree root systems are not capable of completely restructuring the whole system in response to stimuli. This is only one example of a mycorrhizal fungal relationship, but there is a variety even within this category as ectomycorrhizal fungi is a kind that grows outside of and around the root cells (like Rhizopogon) and arbuscular mycorrhizal fungi is a variety that grows completely through the plant cell walls (Simard 67).

Mycorrhizal fungi essentially invest in other organisms by giving them a loan of resources from which the organism can establish and sustain itself before paying the fungi back with its own resources. Without the boost of mycorrhizal fungi, trees and other plants and organisms would struggle to survive. Suzanne Simard who has spent years studying mycology and the inner workings of how soil influences forest growth simply but powerfully explains, “killing mycorrhizal fungi also killed trees (Simard 100).”

Fungi in nature resist classification within the dichotomy of singularity and multiplicity, thus demanding a third way of seeing that acknowledges how two contrasting ideas can be true in the same space at the same time. My series of paintings showcase a variety of compelling compositions of fungal-like motifs made through a process of both building up and undoing layers of paint. Much like hyphae first begins searching for resources by expanding in all directions not knowing the destination, I do not begin these paintings with an end goal in mind; rather, I complete one layer or experiment at a time as I feel compelled. Once a layer has been completed, more doors of opportunity open and conversations are created within the canvas. For example, one of my pieces began with imagery that was inspired by shelf like mushrooms such as chicken of the woods, but after making volumetric patterns within the form, what was once the surface of a mushroom fell to the background creating instead pathways that can call to mind a multitude of systems such as an aerial view of a river delta. From there, a whole new opportunity opened allowing the form to be seen in a completely new way, so I expanded on this idea and allowed those pathways to break free from the mushroom form in some areas. The result is a composition that, like fungi, resists categorization by being neither and both a mushroom and a river delta (as well as any other form that takes on the same shapes or movements) opening the viewer up to a third way of seeing.

My Show

I am fascinated by the idea that millions of species of fungi exist within every ecosystem collectively providing a range of extensive and at times contrasting functions while maintaining singularity both in their categorization as fungi and their structure as networks. My show uses primarily acrylic paint mediums to create abstract compositions that comment on fungi’s insistence on a new way of seeing that is not barred by the idea that dichotomies are absolute. Through experimentation with layering paint to depict natural forms, resistance to categorization within dichotomies has become content throughout this body of work as a way to join the conversation about the philosophy of fungi.

The compositions within my show each use a limited color palette of blues, pinks, and purples that are more often found in high fashion than within the Fungi Kingdom. This palette removes visual context typical of the natural world, preventing the audience from easily identifying and locating the mycelium-like patterns and mushroom forms. By removing context, the audience is led to interrogate the multiplicity of these forms as they could exist in many different spaces depending on whether the audience is thinking about the forms from a microscopic perspective or an aerial view, as internal or external structures. For example, external mycelium connections look and function similarly to human internal networks of neurons and blood vessels, so by painting various types of line interacting and creating mycelium-like pathways, neurons and blood vessels are also being created. By painting one, I have painted them all. My thesis show will place in conversation with one another six paintings of various sizes, each exploring the question of how natural occurring patterns and different painting processes can disrupt dichotomies. The audience will be given the opportunity to explore areas of repetition, disruption, and connection within each composition as well as throughout the show as a whole.

Fungi in nature resist classification within the dichotomy of singularity and multiplicity, thus demanding a third way of seeing that acknowledges how two contrasting ideas can be true in the same space at the same time. My series of paintings showcase a variety of compelling compositions of fungal-like motifs made through a process of both building up and undoing layers of paint. Much like hyphae first begins searching for resources by expanding in all directions not knowing the destination, I do not begin these paintings with an end goal in mind; rather, I complete one layer or experiment at a time as I feel compelled. Once a layer has been completed, more doors of opportunity open and conversations are created within the canvas. For example, one of my pieces began with imagery that was inspired by shelf like mushrooms such as chicken of the woods, but after making volumetric patterns within the form, what was once the surface of a mushroom fell to the background creating instead pathways that can call to mind a multitude of systems such as an aerial view of a river delta. From there, a whole new opportunity opened allowing the form to be seen in a completely new way, so I expanded on this idea and allowed those pathways to break free from the mushroom form in some areas. The result is a composition that, like fungi, resists categorization by being neither and both a mushroom and a river delta (as well as any other form that takes on the same shapes or movements) opening the viewer up to a third way of seeing.

We have so much to learn from how nature exists beyond our bounds.

While the study and functions of fungi inspire this body of work, the painterly abstraction of fungal forms creates the space for audience members to enter a conversation, bringing their own narratives and interpretations. The audience does not need to be an expert on mushrooms or even recognize the forms as fungal to interact with paintings. This body of work also explores the disruption of dichotomies by showing how opposing qualities can exist together materially in a tense but balanced composition. The pink and blue hues that repeat themselves and shift between the canvases are one such entryway for the audiences to understand this disruption. Pink and blue are not complementary, opposite colors; however, socially they hint at a gender binary and exist separately. These works place the two colors in tense relationships with one another, allowing them to at times vibrate as they seem to push and pull against each other. It points to a third perspective of an inbetween, a nonbinary that exists both within the context of and in resistance to these gendered colors.

In these works, surface and texture enter the conversation through areas of sanding, priming, and building up layers of paint. Carefully rendered and highly controlled areas of mark making are simultaneously connected to and contrasted with imperfect and uncontrolled areas which were left to more automatic processes such as sanding or spraying with watered down paint. Varying surface textures reiterates the idea that dichotomies are not absolute. Control vs out of control, intention vs accident, and flat vs three dimensional are all called into question as each painting weaves between and connects these opposites. The process of building up and degrading the texture and surface of these canvases also emulates the ways some species of fungi function to facilitate the growth of other living organisms like the Rhizopogon fungi while other fungal species are charged with decaying and recycling dead organisms, once again facilitating the balance of the cycle of life. These compositions are disorienting for viewers to encounter because they are not easy to categorize. It is not clear or easy to decide what is foreground or what is background, what is internal or external, what is flat or volumetric because the answers to those questions shift throughout each composition. These compositions have a queer effect, and the result is disorientation for the audience. Sarah Ahmed describes this queer effect as making the background, what is usually unnoticed, into the foreground as the subject or object of the composition (Ahmed 168). She also explains, “It is not only that queer surfaces support action, but also that the action they support involves shifting grounds, or even clearing a new ground, which allows us to tread a different path.(Ahmed 170)”

Citations

Ahmed, S. (2006). Disorientation and Queer Objects. In Queer phenomenology orientations, objects, others (pp. 157-179). essay, Duke University Press.

Fields, S. (n.d.). About. Suzanna Fields. Retrieved March 3, 2023, from http://www.suzannafields.com/about-the-work

Roody, W. C. (2003). Mushrooms of West Virginia and the Central Appalachians. University Press of Kentucky.

Sheldrake, M. (2021). Entangled life how fungi make our worlds, change our minds, and shape our futures. Vintage.

Simard, S. (2022). Finding the mother tree: Uncovering the wisdom and intelligence of the Forest. Penguin Books.