Believe in the Beauty of Every Day.
It’s all Beautiful.
All of it. Even the messy stuff. It’s all beautiful because life is beautiful. It’s imperfect, chaotic, traumatic, and expensive, but in all of that there is beauty. Hear me out. True beauty, not that which is pretty or pleasant or nice, or cool, but true beauty, is part pain. It’s that tension between the two that makes us feel alive, and that makes life interesting. For what is life if not interesting?
When centenarians were asked to look back on their lives and describe what they considered the most beautiful times in their lives, it wasn’t the deluxe vacations, the grand Christmases, or the fancy celebrations.
What they considered the most beautiful times in their lives were the times of challenge and pain and hardship. The times when they had to overcome something. Because those were the times in which they grew the most. The times in which they could look back on as the most profound moments and turning points.
So, the times in our lives that are the hardest and the most challenging and most uphill, those are the times which tumble us a bit, knock off our edges, polish us up. You see, like rocks, the tumbling is good, for it reveals the crystalline center of our souls.
Hi, I’m Mér. More about me below.
“You see, like rocks, the tumbling is good; it reveals the crystalline center of our souls.”
Making Art like it’s my Job.
If you’re anything like me, you believe in good old-fashioned curiosity.
You’re not afraid to ask questions. Good art should be that. It should ask questions and make you think. Even better, it should make you feel. It should cause some sort of reaction; elicit some sort of emotion. Otherwise, it is just craft. Technique. Where art makes a sharp turn down a long ravine is the moment when it touches some deeper part of the viewer. Arrests the viewer in some way. Maybe it’s a feeling or emotion, a memory, an image, a smell, a thought, a question. Or maybe it held one’s gaze long enough to cause the mind to wonder, imagine, or daydream.
As an artist, an art maker, that is my job. People have told me random things like a piece of my artwork reminded them of their Grandmother’s linoleum floor growing up. I once sold a small decorative bowl to someone who first held it close to his heart and said, “This reminds me of someone.”
No. 2 Pipestone, Light Coming in Through Cracks Series. View the entire series here.
Singularity.
Most found object art today relies on collage. What I am doing differently by getting away from collage-based found object art is holding each piece as separate. This singularity invokes the modern American West by representing it symbolically, pared down to its abstraction, though it is still a literal found object full of meaning. The minimalist expansiveness and singularity of my work denotes a wide open Western landscape, evoking freedom and clarity.
I also use a lot of negative, open space in my work and crave a minimalist aesthetic, trying to touch that void of perfect balance and tension between form and color, contrast and texture. I want to hold a lot of space for the viewer by holding a lot of space for the piece of Found Object.
I go for a singular approach because I truly find beauty in each Found Object I build an art piece around. I never alter any of my Found Art pieces. That is where the true art comes from. It comes from nature, time, weather, and random physical manipulation. Life.
Altering any of that would feel inauthentic and fraudulent. It is in the noticing of the beauty and in the depth it takes to find these things beautiful. Not because they are not beautiful, but because they are hardly noticeable. So often overlooked. It’s like stopping to look at a blade of grass or the spots on a ladybug’s wings. The texture of peeling paint. I do not make art out of everything I find. I am very critical of what I save. Each must be interesting enough to stand alone in a piece of artwork.
Hero’s Journey.
I regard each of the found objects I find as lost, broken, discarded fragments of the Self. The parts we lost along the way, or were taken from us. I’m drawn to these pieces. They beckon me. I’m always amazed at the folds and ripples of a piece, how it was flattened or crushed. How did it end up that way? So delicate and specific. It’s whimsy in its most rustic form. Finding and appreciating their beauty feels redeeming to me. I love how unexpected they are, how random, yet somehow absolutely perfect. To me, this feels rebellious. They are beautiful exactly as-is. Like each and every one of us, our imperfections make us beautiful. The Hero’s Journey speaks of survival and perseverance and the downtrodden eventually making his or her way in the World.
My name is Meredith Rivers and I live in beautiful, majestic Southwest Montana, Yellowstone Country. A lifelong artist, I received my formal training within the art departments of San Diego City College, California, and the Montana State University School of Art, Bozeman, Montana. An artist since childhood, I began formal art training in 2001, and began working professionally as an artist in 2012. Though, I do believe life experience will always been the best art teacher.
Likes:
old cars, old dogs, children, humpback whales, Boston Red Sox, toasted baguettes with butter, cashmere sweaters, rodeos, and Mexican hot chocolate.
Dislikes:
social media, politics, and misogyny.
Noteworthy:
Libra
Mama
Late adopter
Can sing the entirety of the 1971 song American Pie by Don McLean