As happens to all of us, I grew up in a world that looks at animals differently, and I changed.  I never completely lost my core, but I learned to hide it, sometimes even from myself.  It happened in increments, but I remember moments.  When I was in third grade, my father went hunting and brought home a pronghorn antelope on the roof of the car.  I looked into that animal’s still bright eyes and sobbed.  In a futile attempt to comfort me, my mother assured me that he – the pronghorn, not my father – had no soul, so he had nothing to lose.  I knew better than that, and silently apologized to him, and to all animals, for human ignorance.  I vowed through my tears to somehow make it up.

Entering adulthood, I chose to pursue another passion, and became a fiber artist.  But I never forgot my pledge, and when the longing to be with animals became too sharp to ignore, I left my studio a few hours a week to volunteer at a zoo.  Those hours stretched, turned into a job, and inspired me to incorporate abstract animal imagery into my art.  In turn, the images became more realistic, and by the time I accepted a job at a wildlife rehabilitation clinic, I had written and illustrated two books about wildlife.  Those books were for children as much as they were for the pronghorn.  Getting them published was a step back to myself.

Constance Perenyi - Apricot, 6.5x5 paper

And still, I was in hiding.  The wildlife center where I worked strictly limited human interaction with the animals in residence.  While I respected the need to keep wildlife wild, I grieved many missed opportunities.  I secretly took many of those orphaned or injured animals into my heart and did my real work with them in the quiet of night.  It was in that safe space that I could explore the deeper meaning of our intersecting lives.  I reached out, and they were there, just waiting for someone to initiate the connection.

During my third summer at the clinic, the director made the decision to cover the cages where young crows were kept indoors until they were old enough to join others in an outdoor aviary.  Of course, the idea was to keep them from bonding too much to their human caretakers, but the edict was unbearable to me.  I argued that these birds needed exposure to the busy clinic.  Most basically, they needed light, and in a state of deprivation, many weakened and some died.  I fought until I lost my voice, literally and figuratively. With resignation and a feeling of failure, I left my job.

I’ve carried that painful memory for almost two decades, and along with it, a deep desire to find a different way to work with wild animals.  A few months ago, a friend introduced me to Earthfire Institute through a link to the video of Apricot.  I blinked through tears as I witnessed a healing collaboration done with integrity and skill, and so much love that I felt my own heart begin to heal.  In that moment, my earliest understanding of life came rushing back.  It is so simple: we are one, and we help each other.

I also knew that I wanted to honor Apricot with a portrait.  Paper is my medium, and I work in a form of collage most like the traditional Japanese art of chigirie.  With my background as a fiber artist, I am suited to working with layers of paper, and over the years, my work has become increasingly painterly.  It is also a profound way to connect with animals.  Even when my only source is a photo, as it was with Apricot, I can step aside and let the animal come through.  It may take days to get the details right, but the hours are suspended, as they are when I am in the company of animals in so-called real time.

I have been honored to do portraits of animals, both companion and wild, for humans who want to remember.  I chose to portray Apricot so I could remember.  It is an honor to share this little collage with my kin at Earthfire Institute.  I will visit someday soon, but this place, these people, and these animals already burn brightly in my imagination.  I am grateful beyond words.

This video of Humble Bumble bear is a first ever in the world, in which the sound of an animal is made visible in real time.  What you are seeing are the energy patterns within sounds.

CymaGlyph - Windwalker's Purr

Earthfire is privileged to be the first wildlife sanctuary in the world to have animal sounds made visible on a new type of scientific instrument, the CymaScope.  Unlike instruments such as sonograms and oscillograms which show sounds graphically, the CymaScope gives us a picture of sound by imprinting the animal sounds on the surface of water.  Rather like a fingerprint on glass, the voice of the animal imprints the surface of water, leaving an embossed impression that can be photographed with special imaging techniques.  The images are not computer-generated but are the actual patterns of energy created by the animals.

So far, the CymaScope has been used to image three of our animal voices: Windwalker, the cougar, Firefly the fox, and Humble Bumble, our special grizzly bear.  We plan on having the sounds of all our animals imaged to build a lexicon of animal CymaGlyphs – the name for a CymaScope image – that will be unique in the world.

CymaGlyph - Firefly's Call

John Stuart Reid of Sonic Age America, the company that developed the CymaScope said, “We are entering a new realm of exploration in which the voice patterns of these wonderful creatures will almost certainly lead to a better understanding of their communications and of the creatures themselves.

Thanks and gratitude to John Stuart Reid for his work and contribution.  For more information, please visit www.cymascope.com.

CalArts Student Manuel recorded this mini whirlpool during the CalArt residency at Earthfire Institute last July.  The music was done by CalArt student Jxel. This wonderfully creative video starts slowly and out of focus. As it gradually comes into focus the music changes and you begin to hear the sounds and essence of Earthfire. Enjoy the surprises as it unfolds, as any good discovery does.

CalArts student John Martin put together this piece during the Michelle Lund/Earthfire residency program in July.

Don’t dream it’s over for Northern Rockies Wolves!

“What happens when you put an experimental animator from Argentina, a musician from Mexico City, a performing artist from New Jersey, and an ecologist from California in the Earthfire Institute pasture?
They become part of Bluebells the bison’s herd.” Mike Bryant.

There has been a utter explosion of creativity here at Earthfire with the combined talents of three artists, a scientist, Jean, Susan and the animals – through the California Institute of

the Arts residency program currently at Earthfire. The animals have simply awed the students. One of them has already made a life-time commitment to conservation; science lectures at CalArts will now be enhanced with understandings gained here, an on-line children’s book has been conceived, and that’s just in the first three days of a two week program.

The Michelle Lund/Earthfire Institute Residency program has made possible the encounters between CalArts students and faculty with Cucumber the wolf, Bluebell the bison, Pimpernel the coyote, Firefly the fox and many other Earthfire animals. The goal of the residency to is to produce a powerful multi-media art project, informed by science, on the new ways of seeing and practicing conservation.

Johnnie Martin, a performing artist says “The animals here at Earthfire have gone through a lot of different transitions. Bluebell’s herd has passed away and she has come to embrace humans as her herd. There is a real, raw, love that comes out of Bluebell. It’s almost overwhelming to hold this animal that’s 1500 lbs in your arms as she licks your shoelaces. There is nothing else quite like that.” He goes on “I think Earthfire presents a really interesting model for an animal sanctuary, in that its an ethical venture, yes, to take care of animals that can’t live in the wild, but takes it to another place to educate people about wildlife. In the larger picture of conservation the number of animals that are here aren’t very many, but through their role of spokes-animals they can encourage people to support conservation in a really big way. I wish that more animal sanctuaries had that two-fold component.”

Mike Bryant, part of the science faculty at CalArts is using his experience to expand on his conservation lectures.  He states “Inspired in part, by Earthfire’s physical location, which “guards” the southern portion of the Yellowstone to Yukon Wildlife Corridor, and by drawing from the personal connection with the wildlife at Earthfire, I am exploring the many facets of the term connectivity as it applies to Conservation Biology. Earthfire is bringing the level of my personal connection to wildlife up, which leads me into something that I haven’t done before in my lectures to the CalArts students -  to really focus on the role of advocacy as an ecologist. That is what I have been working on here.”

The students will be hosting a free public presentation of their work done over the two week residency at Pierre’s Playhouse in Victor, ID on July 30th at 12pm.  We hope to see you there!

A beautiful poem narrated by the peerless Norman Bailey, about listening to things that cannot be heard through our ears but through our hearts. The animals, without thinking they are always listening and we are linked by the great listening to the larger knowledge circling this earth.

In February, internationally acclaimed wildlife artist Dan Smith and his wife Liz spent two glorious days at the Earthfire Institute. Here is what they had to say about their experience.  “We spent our time researching arctic and grey wolves as well as lynx.  We enjoyed interacting with the animals in this peaceful setting and getting to know our marvelous hosts Susan Eirich and Jean Simpson.  One of our highlights was meeting a 16 year old wolf named Windsong and learning her story.  The compassion that Susan, Jean and their staff have for their animals is commendable.”  You can see Dan’s paintings of Earthfire animals and others on his website.

Well, not really…

I’ve heard many professional wildlife photographers describe their process. Typically’ they use long lenses at a safe and non-disturbing distance, then wait for the right moment to “capture” the animal in its natural habitat. Their goal, some say, is to capture an image that is believable and descriptive.

My approach to taking animal pictures doesn’t have much in common with this method. To begin with, I’m obviously not interested in referencing the animal’s environment. I shoot up close – very close – with a wide angle lens, and frequently from below to get unusual perspectives. Finally, I’m not so much waiting to “catch” my shot as I am trying to manufacture it.

I do this by either cautiously dancing around with my subject to get him/her in my viewfinder. Or I crouch motionlessly two feet away while quietly talking, coaxing, cajoling – I’m trying to cut a deal so I can get him positioned just like I want. In some ways, my approach in making these photographs is more akin to performance art and snake charming than to traditional wildlife photographic practice.

My goal in producing this work is two-fold. As the photographer, I want to experience the full range of emotions that come from being, as is oftentimes the case, within touching distance of wild animals. The animals I photograph, while accustomed to human presence, are by no means domesticated. The thrill and excitement and connection that I feel when I’m next to these formidable beings is for me a very spiritual journey. I reach back to a distant time when my ancestors were in tight symbiosis with the creatures of the earth and I fancy, for just a moment, that I can actually communicate with them.

On another level, I’d like for these images to elicit a variety of emotions in the viewer as well. Certainly I’d like to elicit respect and admiration for the stately elegance of these creatures. But also, I hope to convey a sense of joy and playfulness…maybe a recalling of the pleasure and wonderment that animals held for us as children.

Artistically speaking, by isolating the subject against a nearly-bare background, and presenting these animals out of context, the innate power and beauty of their form becomes the subject of the photograph. In this way, these images can become iconic, transcendent, like cave drawings or the animal spirits that inhabit Native American lore.

At the same time, photographing from such close proximity also brings particularity and individuality to the animal, especially if the animal makes eye contact with the viewer. At this point, the animal goes beyond being a removed, iconic presence and becomes a palpable unique spirit as individualistic and valuable as any human counterpart. For me, it is important that both aspects of the creature be accessible to the viewer in my photographs as I feel that animals play a critical double role as inspiring archetype and sacred friend.

To find my subjects, I rely on research and word of mouth to locate people and institutions that will allow me to get as close as necessary to create my compositions. Meeting the kinds of people whose lives are intricately connected to these animals has been a real gift. I’m convinced there are some among us who really still can communicate with our animal brothers and sisters.

Jean Simpson of Earthfire Institute would be high among those suspected of still owning this skill. To watch him work with Major Bear (black bear), Windwalker (cougar), and Bramble (grizzly) is to witness something incredible that is a mix of  uncanny sensitivity, primordial patience and a touch of voodoo. It’s clear he gets it.

Jean, along with Susan Eirich, Executive Director of Earthfire Institute, have devoted their lives to remaining connected to this wilder side of life, and to preserving and sharing it with all of us.  As a photographer and an ordinary citizen of planet Earth, I’m eternally grateful for their mission.

Nine Francois,
photographer, artist and teacher
ninefrancois.com

Watch as participants of Earthfire Institutes digital storytelling workshop go from technological panic or storytellers block to completing a passionately felt creative piece in two days. These stories are beautifully told in their own voice with Earthfire’s animals and the experience of meeting them as inspiration. For more information on this years Digital Storytelling Workshop led by Leslie Rule of KQED San Francisco visit our calendar.

Click here to view the embedded video.