Artwork by members of our class

The fascinating artwork of our classmate Leila Daw is currently included in 4 major exhibits. The timeliness of her work is uncanny. Congratulations to Leila.

Leila writes that the Mass MOCA exhibition is up until next Spring, so there is still plenty of time for people to get to that one. The Cincinnati exhibition has been extended to mid September. The others come down early in September. There is another show up for another few weeks, at Atrium Gallery in St. Louis, and a show will open in October in New Haven, CONNcentric, a show of Connecticut artists -- no hard info to send on that one yet.

Here are snapshots of her announcements of current shows and photos of individual works of art. For more images and a full explanation of her work, you can log on to Leila's website www.leiladaw.com.

I am fascinated by mapping, as a way of representing the convergence of place and movement, as a means of imposing human ideas over the contours of the natural world, as a system of filters through which we see the landscape. We try to exert control over our environment by mapping, and think we're not lost if we can pinpoint our location on a map. But mapping is subjective: how do we know where we are, when what we're looking for determines what we see? Culture transforms not only the sites we inhabit, but the ways in which we see those sites. We change the land by the ways we occupy it, but the land in turn changes us, so we know longer know which way we're going, which is past and which future, or how to get from here to where we think we belong.

This is not to say I make completely factual maps (if there were such a thing); mapping is a metaphor, something to think about while working. I'm always trying to find the way, determine my location, my sense of site, my direction, trying for an overview, sometimes an aerial view, trying to make sense out of mixed cultural nonsense. There are obscuring clouds in our minds as well as over the Earth. Tremendous romance attaches to travel and journeying (for which we consult maps), but sometimes the most exciting adventures are metaphysical, taking place entirely disconnected from physical reality. And so, I map all this experience.

Recently my work has taken a turn into -- what? -- the underworld? -- cataclysmic disasters, ruins evoking civilizations past and future, the remains of fragile human endeavors on the surface of the planet. Right now in the studio, I'm working on an image / view / map of a flood, wiping the world clean. And, that's not so bad; in fact it opens up newborn opportunities... Once, while teaching my "Myth and Ritual" class at Mass Art, we had a discussion about deeply-held myths underlying our own culture. We discovered that each of us believes some kind of Armageddon will occur in our lifetimes -- and that we will survive, coming out the other side to create a new map for our existence. Those are the "maps" I hope I'm making.

John and I had a chance to visit the new exhibition at the Massachusetts Museum of Modern Art in North Adams, where Leila Daw has two works featured. The title of the exhibition is "Badlands...New Horizons in Landscape." One of Leila's works was included in our class CD for the 45th Reunion. I think the exhibition will remain on location there for several more months. The collections are fascinating, and well worth a visit!!!

There's also a lovely catalogue, which we didn't buy, that says the following about her work:

Leila Daw
Born 1940, Charleston, West Virginia. Lives and works in Branford Connecticut.
Leila Daw's tapestry-like unstretched canvases turn perspective on its head. Daw allows viewers to simultaneously see the landscape on both a micro- and macroscopic level, blending recognizable elements with abstracted maps and compasses. As if reporting in the wake of an event or at the height of natural disaster, Daw gives us a glimpse into the potential of our experiences, showing us a bird's eye view of the devastating power of nature. On view in Badlands are "Wiping the Slate," a river overtaking a mapped terrain, with metallic blues and grays spilling over until, at the bottom of the canvas, there is nothing to see but unruly water patterns overwhelming the land; and "Volcano to the Sea," a mass of brightly colored molten lava spilling down the sides of a mountain eradicating civilization below.