Dambo, who has installations in five continents and 20 countries, uses his talent to promote environmental awareness. He made his first troll on the Puerto Rican island of Culebra in 2014. He views his giant whimsical creatures as “unspoken warriors of the plants and animals that can’t speak.”

There are five trolls so far in Rhode Island, the beginning of a statewide public art trail, set in locations that take a little exploring to discover. This makes them not only an environmental statement but also simply fun, luring people into nature with their magical presence. Several more trolls are currently in the works, to bring the total to seven.

Mrs. Skipper, in East Providence, is sited at the Kettle Point Pier. This area was at one time a sandstone quarry for railroad gravel, while the pier and surrounds were used by giant oil companies through the 1980s. The area was then cleaned up as part of the Kettle Point revitalization project and the development of the East Bay bike path, which runs from Providence to Bristol. Mrs. Skipper has panoramic views of Providence River, the Narragansett Bay, and the Providence skyline.

Luckily for me, Rhode Island is a small state, since I plan to visit all the trolls on the trail. Eventually.

I’ve been especially eager to visit Shelter Island’s Sylvester Manor since I began writing my current novel, which has a focus on the slave trade in the northeast. The lands of Sylvester Manor were home for millennia to indigenous Manhansett People, then owned by an Anglo Dutch sugar consortium to run a “provisioning plantation” for the Barbadian sugar trade. It was worked by enslaved Africans as well as indentured or paid Native American and European laborers. The estate’s grounds are estimated to contain the unmarked graves of up to 200 enslaved servants and laborers. Since the 1600s it’s been owned by eleven generations of Sylvester descendants, at one time a food industrialist’s summer estate. Then, in 2014, it was gifted to a nonprofit organization for a completely different purpose.

Currently the site includes a 1737 Manor House, a restored 19th-century windmill, an Afro-Indigenous Burial Ground, and a working farm. It offers educational, history & heritage, and cultural arts programs.

As I walked the grounds of the estate on a day when there were only a handful of other people, I tried to imagine the place alive with work and workers. Provisioning plantations were the means by which plantation owners ensured a steady supply of goods for their highly profitable sugar plantations in Barbados. These filled the gaps in the supply chain, providing resources that were not produced on the sugar islands.

At 236 acres, Sylvester Manor was one of the largest such provisioning plantations in the north, and it is the largest that is still intact. It’s remarkable that the young man who inherited this property in 2013, instead of keeping it for private use or selling to a developer, had a different vision for what it could be. You can read more about this very happy turn of affairs here: [https://www.nytimes.com/2013/04/11/garden/sylvester-manor-on-shelter-island-returns-to-its-roots.html]

It’s now a historical, educational, and archaeological treasure that in 2015 was designated a Historic District of national significance on the National Register of Historic Places.

It often has shows of nature based sculptures like the ones shown below.

The elephants were crafted by The Coexistence Collective, a team of more than 200 indigenous Indian artisans, to serve both as a jaw-dropping display and as a call to action. Organized by Elephant Family USA, a nonprofit committed to the protection of Asian wildlife, they aim to illustrate the symbiotic relationship between humans and wildlife and to spotlight the balance between both. 

The statues, shaped from the invasive weed Lantana camara, were placed in large groups in several of Newport’s green spaces. Viewing one cohort of the elephants at the magnificent Breaker’s mansion on the Cliff Walk, I couldn’t help feel the power of art to awaken our consciousness to the need for a more sustainable future.

My photos can’t capture the grandeur, or the awe they inspired. Still, here are a few to inspire.

Currently there are two nature-related exhibits that are wonderfully evocative. One, “the enchanting world of artist Ellen Blomgren” (a former ceramist instructor at RISD) is a collection of small statues of small children and creatures that are nestled here and there on the grounds in a kind of treasure hunt. 

The other exhibit, at the opposite side of the size scale, is “the Myth Makers” by artists Donna Doson and Andy Moerlein, who draw their inspiration from a love of the wild, in particular the nature of birds. These sculptures are gigantic birds created from bamboo and other natural materials. Below is a peahen, which is similar in coloring to a peacock.

And here is “Queenfisher,” so named because unlike with most birds, the female Belted Kingfisher is more colorful than the male, with a rust-red band through her middle.

Kingfishers are iconic water birds that feed on fish, insects, and frogs and are abundant in the streams and ponds around Mount Hope Bay.

These exhibits make me smile, and as I sit inside the giant owl looking out, they prompt reflections on the connections among humans, animals and the natural world.

I don’t know who the gardeners are, but I thank them from the bottom of my heart for providing such a glorious place to read, write, think, and enjoy.  

This is a statement piece by Mia Lin, an extraordinary way of making climate change visible. She has literally brought a dying forest to the city, so that urban dwellers can experience first hand what is happening to landscapes far from their everyday lives.

The strand of 49 American white cedar trees in Ghost Forest, as explained in placards around the park, came from the New Jersey Pine Barrens. They had been infiltrated by salt water due to sea level rise, and also were affected by increased winds and fire. Lin wanted to bring attention to the mass die-offs of once healthy woodlands. In the past, Atlantic white cedars were plentiful on the East Coast, proving at least 500,000 acres of habitat for plants and animals. They have dwindled to below 50,000 acreas and are now endangered.

“The harsh magnitude of planetary vulnerability in communities and the environment is a significant subject in Lin’s practice.”

Standing amid the trees, feeling their dying presence, really brings home the harm humans are doing to the planet.

The gorgeous shot of the Montauk lighthouse by Gary on my home page appealed to me for the quality of the light, with its stunning peach hues, and the startling contrast in the illumination of the lighthouse. Gary’s photos are transportive; they allow me to enter and feel a part of the scene they depict. 

I was curious to know how Gary came to photography, how he found his subject, how he gets his effects, and what he is trying to achieve. What follows is from our conversation about his work.

Finding his way:

Gary got the photography bug as a kid. He did his own developing in a darkroom in the family’s basement, working in black and white. Even so, it was only when a neighbor suggested he try a digital camera, and he could dispense with chemicals and developing, that he committed to photography as his life’s passion. Most compelling for him is the immediate gratification and freedom of taking as many shots as he likes. 

Aesthetics and Influences:

Gary’s aim is to capture his shots in the present, to get his effects “in the camera.” Although he has a background in engineering and is facile with computers, he isn’t interested in what he can do technically in PhotoShop or other programs and does very little manipulating of photos after the fact.  He says if he finds himself spending more than 10 minutes fidgeting with an image, he knows it doesn’t work for him.

He admires and is inspired by masterly photographers like Ansel Adams, former National Geographic photographer Joe McNally, and others whose work he’s studied closely. He appreciates Ansel especially for his compositions and Joe McNally for his amazing use of artificial light.

Finding his subject:

Gary fell in love with Montauk early in life, drawn to the big sky and especially to water. He is a kayaker and a serious fisherman, so water means something personal to him. He is enthralled by exploring its color, texture, and ephemeral nature, whether frozen or frothing, still or in motion. “I can go to the same spot over and over. If you take the time to absorb your surroundings and truly be immersed, you’ll see something different every time.” Doing photography helps him become more observant and to slow down. He often goes on “photography walkabouts” for many hours, wandering and shooting what he comes upon. In these moments, as he becomes engrossed, he enters a soothing, contemplative state where troubles melt away. Photography is his art and his private personal time. Perhaps this deep immersion is what gets transmitted in the work to the viewer and gives it such resonance.

Creative process:

Gary is intrigued with the mechanics of the camera — playing with different apertures and speeds and discovering how best to take photos at night, or how to capture motion. Experimenting keeps him growing artistically through the creative peaks and valleys. By continually challenging himself to do something different, he sustains his interest.

For instance, in the photo above, besides achieving the extraordinary color you see, Gary attains a kind of shimmer, a perception of blur or motion throughout the image. This was intentional. To get the effect, he took the photo while panning with the camera horizontally. “Shutter speed and panning had to be just right. It took patience and many attempts such that it wouldn’t look over- or underdone in terms of the effect. I got the blending of colors I was hoping for.”

Gary’s peak experience is when he has an image in his mind and then is able to produce it.  For his shot for my website, it was early morning on a summer day, and he wanted to capture the lighthouse as the sun rose, yet he also wanted the structure to be in sharp relief and to still be illuminated as it is overnight. He also was looking for certain specific colors, colors that he didn’t actually perceive in the sunrise. He decided to try a longer exposure, and he thinks that’s how he achieved what he was after.

Aside from his technical aims, what he wants is to capture an essence of something and to elicit a reaction from a viewer. In this shot of a surfer during a storm, he’s conveying the water’s elemental danger and power.

While the above exhibits the power of the sea, in the image below Gary captures how the exact same spot is placid and tranquil at a different time.

The power of art

I especially appreciate that Gary uses his art in support of the environment. We first met on a hike at Montauk’s lighthouse sponsored by Concerned Citizens of Montauk (CCOM) the environmental organization on whose board I serve. Gary graciously allowed us to use his photos from that event for CCOM’s website and to grace the walls of the CCOM office.

Gary’s work gives me a sense of peace and serenity at the beauty of Montauk’s natural land and waterscapes. It also heightens my awareness of how precious the natural world is to me – both for itself and for its beauty.

Such awareness does so much to strengthen our resolve to protect it.

It took six months in the U.S. to create the garden, which is based on elements of various gardens created during the Ming Dynasty (1368-1644). The results are breathtaking.

As one walks the pathways, there are different views and aspects to be enjoyed at every turn: rocks, waterfalls, a koi-filled pond, and small intimate spaces. The garden is named after the poetry and paintings of the Chinese monks and scholars whose work was inspired by nature.

Initially a lovely oasis in a busy city, the park became a victim of its own success, often so popular it was more crowded than the city streets below. But in the newest twist, the High Line is almost empty at present, a perfect spot to spend some outdoor time during this pandemic.  Currently the park is open during week days and with timed entry (via reservation) on weekends. https://www.thehighline.org/visit/  

I enjoyed the park on two recent occasions. With the timed entry limiting the number of people, we had the park almost to ourselves It was late fall, and so the colors of the flora were muted, but the vibrant art, an exhibit displayed along the walkway entitled En Plein Air, more than compensated. 

Art as you go

This untitled artwork, four ceramic archways, was my favorite. Created by Sam Falls, the ceramic structures are supported by steel tracks taken from the original railway. Each arch is dedicated to a different season: The artist collected plants from the High Line for over a year and embedded them in the ceramic.  

Another interesting sculpture is Sister of the Road by Lana Schnitger.

Views looking out

I love the views from the High Line as well.

Many murals are visible from the High Line, among them Mother Teresa and Gandhi in conversation, Andy Warhol and Frida Kahlo, and an intent seamstress.

also fun to see familiar streets from the slightly different vantage point: [3531]. This one [3536], of a new park going in along the Hudson river, has trees and foliage propped up on strange-looking cement bases.

It’s also fun to see familiar streets from the slightly different vantage point. This one, of a new park going in along the Hudson river, has trees and foliage propped up on strange-looking cement bases.

In “Cascade” Rockman makes the viewer aware of the interrelations of living things, and by implication, the role of humans in impacting the health of our water and, indeed, all of the environment. We see smokestacks and fallen logs, the value of life-giving water, and are forced to think about how the elements relate. By increasing our awareness, Rockman is urging us not to be complacent and to take action to ensure the future of the planet.

Alexis Rockman (American, b. 1962). Cascade, 2015. Oil and alkyd on wood panel. 72 x 144 inches. Commissioned by Grand Rapids Art Museum with funds provided by Peter Wege, Jim and Mary Nelson, John and Muriel Halick, Mary B. Loupee, and Karl and Patricia Betz. Grand Rapids Art Museum, 2015.19