Heather Bird Harris: Creating in the Face of Climate Change

Push and Pull. Wetland soil donated from Grand Chenier/Atakapa-Ishak land, clay from the artist's backyard / Bulbancha, charcoal, acrylic and water on raw canvas.

Bloom. Wetland soil donated from Grand Chenier/Atakapa-Ishak land, clay from the artist's backyard / Bulbancha, synthetic color and water on raw canvas.

Will You Remember. Wetland soil donated from Grand Chenier/Atakapa-Ishak land, clay from Bonfouca/ Liberté/ Salmen brickyard in St. Tammany Parish and water on raw canvas.

Butterfly Effect. Wetland soil donated from Grand Chenier/Atakapa-Ishak land, synthetic color and water on raw canvas.

Artist Heather Bird Harris.

Nest. Wetland soil donated from Grand Chenier/Atakapa-Ishak land, deconstructed brick and clay from Bonfouca/ Liberté/ Salmen brickyard in St. Tammany Parish, clay watercolor from the artist's backyard / Bulbancha, synthetic color and water on raw canvas.

Backyard. Clays from the artist's backyard / Bulbancha and Bonfouca/ Liberté/ Salmen brickyard in St. Tammany Parish, synthetic color and water on raw canvas.

Confluence. Clay from the artist's backyard / Bulbancha, synthetic color and water on raw canvas.

Oil and Water. Wetland soil donated from Grand Chenier/Atakapa-Ishak land, clay from Bonfouca/ Liberté/ Salmen brickyard in St. Tammany Parish, synthetic color and water on raw canvas.

Homing. Clay from the artist's backyard / Bulbancha, clay from Bonfouca/ Liberté/ Salmen brickyard in St. Tammany Parish, graphite, acrylic and water on raw canvas.

New Orleans-based artist Heather Bird Harris explores the through lines between land history and environmental crises, as well as the impact of climate change on future generations. She creates her own paint from local, foraged earth pigments to recreate the geologic process.

How did your creative journey begin?

I think I’ve always identified as creative. My favorite class was always art, and I remember a particular goose I drew in elementary school that got a lot of positive attention and made me think, ‘oh I might be good at this.’ Growing up I also kept a sketch book, collaged, and wrote a lot of moody poetry. I ended up going to college for art at Skidmore College, which was a dream. But I graduated into the recession armed with degrees in Art History and Studio Art and promptly got a non-arts job. Many potential museum and gallery positions had evaporated and my favorite Art History professor told me matter-of-factly, “If there aren’t any jobs right now, that means society needs you to do something else.” So I joined Teach for America and dove head first into education. Over the next decade, I taught hundreds of insightful, hilarious students, became a principal for 5 years, began writing history curriculum, and made exactly two paintings. 

After my kids were born, I wanted to find that part of myself again and recommitted to my painting practice. Fast forward to today, and I’m sitting in my studio surrounded by painting studies and works in progress, and I’m proud to report that my 20 year-old self’s perspective on the world was limited at best. I wouldn’t change the path I took; it made me who I am today and offered me so many lessons and relationships that are dear to my heart. But I’m incredibly grateful I didn’t wait until retirement to become myself. My goodness, what if I had waited?

Where do you find inspiration for your work?

It’s the nexus of several things: American history, my family, natural beauty, and fear of climate change. I see those things as deeply connected and I’m interested in the through lines between them. I find myself trying to answer these questions often in my work: 

What happens when land meets water?

How does fear of loss intensify beauty? 

How do I want my children to think about climate change?

How has colonization of the land led us to the environmental crises we’re currently experiencing?

What lessons can we learn from the natural patterns that will outlive us? 

Where do we go from here? 

How has your work shifted and evolved over time?

My work used to be figurative and realistic. I thought that’s what I was good at so that’s what I did. But when I started painting again after having kids, I had to squeeze my practice into small slices in between naps and found myself getting stressed about realism. Since it was the only time in my day to relax, I ditched the reference photos and loosened up. The work shifted to abstract landscapes, and then full abstraction. The introduction of earth pigments happened when I started abstract landscapes while simultaneously writing anti-racist history curriculum for my day job. It seemed a natural pairing to incorporate the land in its depiction, as a way to evoke land memory. My focus on color theory has been a through line throughout this evolution. 

What does a typical day in the studio look like for you, and how has your art practice grown or changed?

I still work a full-time remote job managing history curriculum, so my studio practice mostly happens in the mornings, evenings, and towards the end of the week if I finish work projects before the deadline. My week always starts with pretty detailed calendaring to help me use time intentionally. My studio is now in my house which helps me get there more often and check on how paintings are drying. 

In terms of my process, I clean and filter my pigments first so I have a natural palette of dry pigments ready. I mull my pigments with a binder as I’m painting, going right from the palette to the canvas while the paint is still wet. Then I add water and synthetic color to the land and respond to what happens on the canvas. I work on many paintings at a time, usually in fast-paced batches of productivity with long periods of rest inbetween. My rhythm over the past couple years has been 2-3 big pushes of work each year.

Which experiences have impacted your work as an artist?

A couple things come to mind. I think the experience of working in public schools in New Orleans for 13 years and then of course having my own children have impacted my work as an artist and my worldview in very fundamental ways. Those experiences broadened my mind, my heart, and changed who I am and what I care about.

More recently, Hurricane Ida had an unexpectedly profound effect on my life. The hurricane devastated southeast Louisiana, led to an extended evacuation for my family, and personally led me to question the decision to raise my family amongst so much uncertainty. It’s hard to describe how much I love New Orleans and how important it is to our family, so the thought of leaving due to climate change filled me with deep sadness and a lot of anxiety. My kids were also having flooding dreams and asking heartbreaking questions that I didn’t have answers to. These concerns ended up with us moving to Atlanta less than a year after the storm, and have been the soundtrack to my work since. In shrinking the scale of land loss onto the canvas, I’m finding comfort that it can be bite-sized, observable, and maybe even beautiful. It helps me cope. 

And the pandemic, of course. It allowed me to see ‘work’ and society really differently. My priorities shifted towards family and art-making and away from career chasing. 

How has social media impacted your art career? 

Honestly, for the better. It has helped me connect with so many amazing people over the years. I learn so much information from social media, like news events that aren’t prioritized in the mainstream cycle, how to get involved in local community and art events, or even survival info after hurricanes. It has helped me sell my work and share what I care about. It’s helped me crowdsource support for families and communities in need. It’s all the bad things, too, of course. But the good has far outweighed the bad for me personally. Boundaries and scheduling help immensely. 

What are your future goals and aspirations?

Sigh. So many. I’m planning to make the jump to being a (mostly) full time artist this year! In the next few years, I’d like to get my MFA in painting, expand my gallery representation, and continue to participate in group shows and exhibitions that align with my values and interests. I’m also interested in moving my work beyond the canvas and into social practice art. I want to be part of the conversation that helps people reimagine our relationship with the earth as we continue to deal with climate change. By the end of my career, I hope my work is in museum collections and that I’ve gotten to show my work internationally. And throughout it all, I hope my kids learn how it’s possible to build a creative life fueled by your convictions. Scary to say all that out loud. Here’s hoping <3

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