what is earth but a home
Let me begin:
We all belong here.
It’s home, this beautiful planet Earth, to stones and trees and birds and humans of every sort.
We all come from what came before, and everything before that.
Somehow, this needs remembering.
The Earth as home to all.
We all come from somewhere on this earth, the place of our birth forever a part of our makeup. Through changing seasons and circumstances of our existence, through voluntary or forced movement, home is where we find safety and connection.
For me, home is the forested Pacific Northwest, the woods of Mt Tabor in Portland, and in the particular geography of the Metolius River Basin. I notice raptors and gather leaves and tiny feathers on my walks. A Bald Eagle pair has made Spring Creek their year-round home. I spend hours exploring the ever-changing landscape and skies. I’m learning how much I don’t know about these places and their inhabitants, and that gives me hope.
In the midst of it all, the eagles continue to hunt for fish in the pond and spend hours perched on the highest branches of the snag near the nest. They make their final light of the day in the crepuscular hour as clouds scatter and the sky warms dusky pink.
This collection of paintings is inspired by raptors and the land and skies they inhabit. It explores place, personhood, and belonging. What better way to go deeper than to paint what you love? There is darkness and loss, beauty and tenderness, the ineffable and the mysterious. It is my attempt to grapple with the enormity of the crisis of home and safety and belonging we are facing. My fears pale in comparison to the lived experience of so many others.
In creating a painting, I’m searching for some kind of truth or truths to emerge in the interplay of feeling, remembering, witnessing and paying attention. Whether a painting becomes a Red-Tail’s gaze or an imagined dream life of a mountain, the process involves conscious consideration as well as openness to the unbidden. I may not recognize what emerges – whether it’s a painting gone astray or the beginning of something I didn’t know I knew or could express, the outcome is an opportunity to feel connected.
My hope is that, in the midst of it all, we find openings with our senses and our hearts to revere what is our shared home.
In the words of Barry Lopez, “It is a good idea to love each other and to love the Earth”
Bethany Rowland
July 2025
Let me begin:
We all belong here.
It’s home, this beautiful planet Earth, to stones and trees and birds and humans of every sort.
We all come from what came before, and everything before that.
Somehow, this needs remembering.
The Earth as home to all.
We all come from somewhere on this earth, the place of our birth forever a part of our makeup. Through changing seasons and circumstances of our existence, through voluntary or forced movement, home is where we find safety and connection.
For me, home is the forested Pacific Northwest, the woods of Mt Tabor in Portland, and in the particular geography of the Metolius River Basin. I notice raptors and gather leaves and tiny feathers on my walks. A Bald Eagle pair has made Spring Creek their year-round home. I spend hours exploring the ever-changing landscape and skies. I’m learning how much I don’t know about these places and their inhabitants, and that gives me hope.
In the midst of it all, the eagles continue to hunt for fish in the pond and spend hours perched on the highest branches of the snag near the nest. They make their final light of the day in the crepuscular hour as clouds scatter and the sky warms dusky pink.
This collection of paintings is inspired by raptors and the land and skies they inhabit. It explores place, personhood, and belonging. What better way to go deeper than to paint what you love? There is darkness and loss, beauty and tenderness, the ineffable and the mysterious. It is my attempt to grapple with the enormity of the crisis of home and safety and belonging we are facing. My fears pale in comparison to the lived experience of so many others.
In creating a painting, I’m searching for some kind of truth or truths to emerge in the interplay of feeling, remembering, witnessing and paying attention. Whether a painting becomes a Red-Tail’s gaze or an imagined dream life of a mountain, the process involves conscious consideration as well as openness to the unbidden. I may not recognize what emerges – whether it’s a painting gone astray or the beginning of something I didn’t know I knew or could express, the outcome is an opportunity to feel connected.
My hope is that, in the midst of it all, we find openings with our senses and our hearts to revere what is our shared home.
In the words of Barry Lopez, “It is a good idea to love each other and to love the Earth”
Bethany Rowland
July 2025
