Dust to Apples
In a world increasingly disconnected from the land, Dust to Apples: The Colors of the Eastern Plains is a powerful art project that seeks to heal our relationship with the natural world. In collaboration with Adams County Parks, Open Space, and Cultural Arts, artist Melody Epperson explores her family’s history and challenges as farmers during the Dust Bowl, what it means to “work the land,” and guides us on a journey of reconnection with the earth.
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VAST
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Walking the prairies of Colorado gives me a deep sense of how expansive this landscape truly is. The artwork in Vast is inspired by my weekly visits to these wide-open spaces—places where stillness and scale coexist.
Each piece highlights the subtle details of native plants and the presence they hold within the fields. The work includes encaustic monotypes paired with inks handmade from plants I harvested from the Colorado plains. These works are meant to evoke a quiet hope, while offering a sense of place rooted in the vastness of the Colorado prairie. |
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Meandering
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I have spent countless hours exploring farms and open spaces, letting nature guide my artistic vision and deepening my connection to the land my ancestors once farmed.
Meandering features a series of abstract encaustic paintings inspired by my weekly visits to farms on the Eastern Plains. Layers of wax and pigment reflect the history, soil, and farming practices that define this region. The plants of this landscape profoundly influence my work. Abstract lines in these pieces echo the fluid, meditative experience of reconnecting with the land while honoring its enduring stories. |
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Basic Nutrients
10" x 10"
$144.00
Melody drawing on the walls of the gallery.
Melody with her Mom Laurie Hill Gibb. They both exhibited at the same time at Next Gallery.
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Discover The CoveredDiscover the Covered begins when I hear the trees sing. It happens high above the ancient town of Santa Fe, while I am walking among the giant pines. The world is very quiet at the time. Because an invisible enemy frightened everyone into their houses. So, on this sunny, silent day, there is nothing drowning out the tree song. And that is why I hear it.
Begin again after Groves: Once my last solo show is down, I begin thinking, listening, searching, and wondering what is next for me. I always start where I left off, and that is Groves: Where We Connect. Read lots of book: I read many books, poems, stories and listened to podcasts about trees. The Hidden Life of Trees, Overstory, Braiding Sweetgrass, The Book of Hope, Finding the Mother Tree, … Do I want to continue this direction? Walking in the trees: I take many walks in the trees, documenting the kinds of trees that I encounter. Roots, stems, leaves. Painting: I paint groves in new ways. I look up and I look down. What new discoveries can I make? What new shapes, patterns and discoveries are within the trees? Drawing: I draw trees, groves, bark, rings. I draw with charcoal because it is made from trees. I draw on paper because it is like tree skin. Questions: I ask questions like, “Do I want to tell the story of the trees?” or “Do I want to tell the story that humans tell about trees?” Learn new skills: I learn new skills such as printing on wax. When I do this, it shakes things up for me. I get new ideas. I find new connections. I grow! Practice new skills: This is the day-to-day, step-by-step, part of making art. Practice, practice, and more practice. Every-single-day. More painting: I paint more trees, the tops and bottoms of them. And then the rest of the forest! The roots, shoots, fungi and flowers. Friends: I meet with friends over noodles, fellow artists over Zoom and even in person. Always asking, wondering, sharing, reflecting. Fire: I witnessed a devastating fire that destroyed 1,000 homes. My heart breaks and then I hear the tree song again. They tell me that humans need to be more like trees. We need to share our nutrients in small ways. Especially with those who need it the most. The trees remind me that we are ALL CONNECTED. I find myself back where I started. Draw on the wall: I draw a giant tree and roots onto the wall of a gallery. I use the discarded remains from the fire. Then suddenly, and rather quietly, things fall into place. I have my title, my concept and my show is complete. It is not unlike the moment in the forest when I first hear the song of the trees. |
Groves: Where We Connect“Shall I not have intelligence with the earth? Am I not partly leaves and vegetable mold myself?”- Henry David Thoreau
As I walk through groves in Colorado, California, and New Mexico, I feel a sense of place and belonging. With each footfall I feel connected to this planet Earth, and thus connected to all living creatures. There is deep wisdom in nature. Science is now showing us that forest are very much like our own neural pathways. We now know that trees can communicate with one another, and they, like us, are connected. This collection of paintings is my journey to understand the wisdom of trees and groves. Through cold wax and oil paint, I attempt to capture the essence of a place, rather than an image of it. Through shape, texture, and colors I transport the viewer to a very particular place and time. These paintings are drawn from my memories, some very old, some newer, as well as the memories of trees. |
Seasons Change
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Throughlines
Encaustic 35x8 $280.00
Horizons
Do you remember the feeling you have when looking across a vast open space? Maybe a valley or the great plains of Colorado? You are looking at the long view. You have perspective. Although the horizon seems far away, you know it is there. You are aware that you must pass through space and time to get to that distant place and somehow you have peace.
Recently, during this period of isolation, I have had much time to think about horizons. I think about time, space and where the horizon actually lies. Afterall, the horizon is a lonely place, a place of surrender, a place to consider the future, the past and the present. This is how I feel during this time of COVID-19, both alone and together, looking inward and outwards, unsure and at peace.
Horizons is a series of cold wax and encaustic paintings that speak to the opportunity in such spaces, at such times. They tell the story of hope, reminding us to believe that there is a way to the horizon. The direction we go from here requires a choice, a step, an action. They speak of the many possibilities and paths we can take from this unique vantagepoint. These paintings are long and thin, stretching wide like the land, like the new opportunities in which we find ourselves. A few of the horizons are rectangular or square suggesting the feeling of being confined and unsure or even stuck. This enemy is tiny, but it is my hope that this series reminds the viewer to look beyond the detail of now into the new horizons.
Recently, during this period of isolation, I have had much time to think about horizons. I think about time, space and where the horizon actually lies. Afterall, the horizon is a lonely place, a place of surrender, a place to consider the future, the past and the present. This is how I feel during this time of COVID-19, both alone and together, looking inward and outwards, unsure and at peace.
Horizons is a series of cold wax and encaustic paintings that speak to the opportunity in such spaces, at such times. They tell the story of hope, reminding us to believe that there is a way to the horizon. The direction we go from here requires a choice, a step, an action. They speak of the many possibilities and paths we can take from this unique vantagepoint. These paintings are long and thin, stretching wide like the land, like the new opportunities in which we find ourselves. A few of the horizons are rectangular or square suggesting the feeling of being confined and unsure or even stuck. This enemy is tiny, but it is my hope that this series reminds the viewer to look beyond the detail of now into the new horizons.
Reflections and RefractionsReflections and Refractions honors our search for truth no matter how beautifully messy it might be. It documents the place where faith traditions, philosophies and other truths point to an inner light. It also captures that magical moment when light reflects off a river or lake or distorts an image as you gaze into puddles on the street.
This collaboration between painter Melody Epperson and installation artist Annette Coleman strives to illustrate the abstract concept of the physical manifestation of our inner world. The installation points viewers to serious inner contemplation and the visceral experience of waveforms bouncing and dancing in their infinite wisdom. Viewing the combination of Epperson’s self-reflective paintings and the refractive nature of glass in Coleman’s installation will play off each other to expand senses and simulate the imagination. Reflection: Serious thought or contemplation. Refraction: A change of directions of waveforms. Annette Coleman Melody Epperson [email protected] http://www.annettecolemanartist.com 
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L-ate SOLD