When I first encountered Rebecca Clark, she spoke about drawing the minutia of nature—twigs, bugs, leaves, etc. These were drawn with graphite and placed in a vast space on a small page, with an attention to detail that seemed both meditative and revelatory. Careful viewing of her drawings invokes the feeling of observing each hair, feather, and vein while sensing the life and mystery of the thing observed.
As her work has developed so has her ability to evoke moments of obscuring and elucidating in the space of her drawings, fueling an experience of quiet and openness for the careful observer.
What I find most remarkable is that, as a result, there is a sense of love and wonder—a warmth and tenderness that connects us to our own ability to see the life of these beings—without the sentimentality that can often accompany detailed depiction. Her hand becomes the feather of a bird, both the sting and the honey of the bee. Her “seeing” allows us to see, in a sustained way, what is often just a glimpse otherwise. And the stillness offers a way to slow to the rhythm of nature and our own silent rhythms. —Jane Rosen