Art + Athletics
I feel like I have never had an imagination. Growing
up, I lived in the present, unable to escape reality with
fantasies or make-believe games. Instead I explored
the world with simple questions: constantly analyzing
and observing to the point of obsession. With a distance
that borders on solitude and physical non-interaction, I
am unattached to the realities of the every day, allowing
myself the freedom to re-organize and re-present
information.
Time on Rabbit Island in the summer of 2012 will be spent settling into an ongoing
personal obsession entitled Building the Ocean – in essence, the process of creating
and constructing a very large expanse. The expanse that I aim to represent is water:
its colours, subtle movements, forms, sounds and my own experiences within it as an avid
swimmer. Documenting the vast waterscape of Lake Superior through a collection of
photographs, drawings and written observations with a simplistically minimal approach,
I will then take these captured moments and utilize a variety of natural, man-made and
hand-made elements to assemble individual pieces. Collectively I will create, or build,
my own re-imagined ocean in both two and three dimensions.
Influencing my affinity for the water is a passion for long distance lake swimming.
As someone who has grown up jumping into lakes in the Pacific Northwest, I have
continued to swim and compete in open water events across northern California with
USMS for over eight years. In the few weeks that I will spend on Rabbit Island, I will
continue to train for an upcoming 10k swim on Lake Willoughby in Vermont. The silence
and emptiness of being on the island will allow me to prepare mentally, with a calm
relentlessness that allows distance swimmers to approach the race unemotionally, which
in the end conserves mental and physical energy. Altogether I am absolutely thrilled with
the opportunity to be in a location that allows for the experience of water both athletically
and artistically. - Sara Marcell Maynard
* Sara Marcell Maynard is a graduate of California College of the Arts in Oakland and currently lives in the Bay Area. She is a competitive open water swimmer and her proposed Art + Athletics fits nicely as we get things up and running on the island. We’re excited to have her out. She might be the only person we don’t have to take back to land by boat.
This quilt is just about spot on. Emily Fischer is a friend of friends who runs a small design studio in Brooklyn called Haptic Lab. “The Great Lakes quilt is our love letter to the Upper Midwest”. We pre-ordered one yesterday and asked for one small favor… could Rabbit Island be sewn on? She was happy to do so and it turns out she spent quite a bit of time as a kid camping on the Apostle Islands in western Lake Superior and misses the lake an awful lot. She even asked if we need a resident quilter. Of course we do!
The quilt will be great to have around camp and fits well with the ideas of simplicity, design and basic efficiency we strive for with any civilization undertaken on Rabbit Island. If you decide to get one consider having Rabbit Island sewn on and make it an extra unique keepsake. These will definitely be rarities amongst an already limited run. Other designs available at Haptic Lab are curated nicely as well and celebrate New York, Central Park, Brooklyn, Paris, Telluride, and other locales; all places that are inspiring when thinking about the intersection of the civilized world and the natural environment and how that relationship has changed over time.
Rule #1 of island life: you need a boat. The search for a functional island boat is proving to be a difficult one. Priorities include safety, reliability, longevity, fuel efficiency, and affordability. We’ve researched several models from respected boat builders (Boston Whaler, Grady White, etc.), government surplus sites selling National Park Service and Coast Guard vessels, welded aluminum fabricators in Alaska and British Columbia, and ideas from abroad (boats used in the Swedish Archipelago, for example). Our primary purpose will be moving gear and people across a large lake that can become rough at times; and we need to do this safely using the least amount of fuel for the most amount of years. Ideally the boat we’re looking for would be under 20 feet, self bailing, able to withstand scraping against rocks occasionally during loading without causing functional damage, and have a reliable, fuel-efficient engine under 115hp.
One of our favorites so far is the Stanley Islander 19 Dual Console model (above). Built in Canada near Parry Sound it is designed for Lake Huron around the rocky islands of Georgian Bay. It is self bailing (i.e. all water drains out of the boat via gravity through scuppers in the hull above the water line), fully welded aluminum (as opposed to riveted), low maintenance, tough, no-frills, and efficient… but also expensive, unfortunately. Does anyone know where we could find a used one for a reasonable price? Apparently they are very hard to come across because people hold on to them for multiple generations and there are few that have been imported from Canada. Other considerations include tested designs such as the Boston Whaler Outrage 17 or a vintage whaler model with a later model engine, Grady White Sportsman 180, or Lund Alaskan 18 or Tyee 18. These are somewhat easier to find but do not have that rare magic combination of aluminum construction and self-bailing hull (they are either one or the other). Aluminum would be easier than fiberglass to maintain and more practical while landing adjacent to a rocky shoreline should it scrape the bottom or get pulled up on shore. Pricing is also an issue. If the prices of the above models were compared the Stanley Islander is the most expensive while the Lund Alaskan is generally the cheapest. Yet the Stanley is the boat that would last the longest without diminishing function, have the broadest application, the least built-in obsolescence (and is recyclable should that time come), and would require the least maintenance–all ideals that match priorities on the island. Perhaps that makes it the wisest in the end, all things considered. If you have any other ideas post them on Facebook or send them via email to rob@rabbit-island.org.
ps. Down the road a sailboat will likely become our vessel of choice but for the moment a motorboat is needed.
This represents a basic cross-section of the slope and elevation of the sandstone that the current shelter sits upon in relation to the lake. The soil sits on solid bedrock and is mixed with occasional small and medium-sized sandstone cobble which has fractured apart from the underlying mass over the years. The bedrock ranges from being gently sloped to nearly horizontal (approximately between zero and four degrees) and roughly corresponds to the drawing at sites preferable for building. The woods surrounding the shelter extend across the island about 1/3 to ½ of a mile until the opposite shore is reached, depending on which direction one were to walk.
Trees in America via Nasa.
A frequently quoted 17th century prose states, “No man is an island entire of itself … any man’s death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind”.
The artist residency on Rabbit Island takes a contrasting view. A view of just how insignificant mankind is. The island will continue to exist regardless of our presence and in spite of it. That is not to give the island any personification. The island is simply an island– dirt, rocks, and trees.
Immersed in the environment of Rabbit Island – its flora and fauna – I experience no mythical spirit or ethereal presence. I experience the island as the physical and finite place it is and always will be. It is a steadfast place. It fills me with awe, certainty, and respect, which obligates me to celebrate the island even more – and almost humorously – the island’s indifference to that celebration and respect reinforces my obligation.
The island’s complete and unforgiving “realness” makes it an incredibly special place to be, to create, and to experience, as long as one does not attempt to imbue it with some sort of personality. It isn’t “alive” in the same animated sense we tend to project on ostensibly beautiful or unique places; but its agelessness and steadiness contributes to a greater sense of being alive in oneself.
While “no man is an island” can certainly be true in context, experiencing Rabbit Island has led me to believe that “no island is a man” in all contexts. It is a place where a man is a man, and an island is an island. By stating that simply in five words it reinforces those understandings and elevates both to a level beyond any comparison.
Andrew Ranville’s thoughts on No Island Is A Man, a solo exhibition by the artist opening September 14th, 2012 at the DeVos Art Museum. This will be the first annual museum show devoted to artists in residence on Rabbit Island.