project of transforming recycled cotton or linen clothing (the most abundant fiber on a college campus seems to be blue jeans) into paper. The process of making paper by hand has not changed much since it came to Europe nearly 1000 years ago. It begins with fiber collection and processing, wherein plant or cloth materials are cut into small one-inch pieces. If the plants are

freshly gathered, they need to be dried and then cooked in an alkali solution to separate the cellulose, which is the key organic material in all papers. The fibers are then placed in a Hollander beater and are beaten into a pulp. It is from this pulp that an individual sheet of paper is formed by hand with the aid of a mould and deckle. After the sheet is formed, it is transferred or ―couched,‖ (pro-nounced cooched) to a wool or polyester felt, which will be stacked

Winter 2011

Vol. 14, No. 1

People, Paper, and Place

Seasons

SAGATAGAN

Rachel Melis & Scott Murphy

C risp, white, uniform, homoge-nous—a typical sheet of paper

conveys only the text and images printed on it, not its own story. Paper seems place-less; it is made from plant materials, but from where were they gathered? When given the opportunity to teach a new class this fall, Hand Papermaking in the Arboretum, our aim was to encourage students to see and develop connections between paper and place. As part of the popular series of ―hands-on-the-land‖ classes funded by Saint John’s Arboretum, hosted by the environmental studies department, taught by art depart-ment professors, and located in the Book Arts studio built by the College of Saint Benedict’s Literary Arts Institute, the class naturally represents a series of connections. Place and process, art and science, history and environment, all shared a part in the facilities, the classroom discussion, and the paper produced by students. Learning about papermaking’s history gives students an under-standing of paper’s early depen-dence on local natural resources. Papermaking began with bast fibers like those from the Kozo plant in China circa 100 A.D. and spread (at the pace of camel travel) across Asia and the Middle East. Reaching Europe about A.D. 1100, paper-making was adapted for use of the most abundant fibers of the region: cotton and flax. At the same time, the students worked in teams to begin their first

up as more and more sheets are formed. The final steps include squeezing water out of the stack or ―post‖ of felts using a five-ton press and then drying the sheets. As students made their first papers, they were encouraged to discuss the finished sheets in terms of unique textures, colors, and even sounds (how does it rattle?). They developed an eye, touch, and ear for

the qualities that made their papers distinct from other cotton papers and from the ubiquitous wood-pulp paper common in most contem-porary books and documents. It is important to note that such wood pulp paper is a recent invention, developed only since the 1840s. Making paper from local plants at CSB/SJU has been done before, most recently undergraduate researcher Ellory Eggermont’s (CSB ’11) work on making a signature

Papermaking, continued on page 2

Caroly

n B

ow

ie

Students in this fall’s papermaking class collected prairie plants from the Arboretum as they learned

the history, process, and art of papermaking

2

paper for CSB/SJU. Ellory develop-ed a paper using a blend of fibers which represent the social and environmental history of the region. Combining big blue stem, a native prairie grass; reed canary grass, an invasive species; and flax, which was historically grown and used for cloth by the Sisters of Saint Benedict truly makes this a signature paper. Learning from Ellory’s research into what kinds of plants make the best papers, the students headed out to the Arboretum to experiment with similar untried fibers, or to consider future projects made from more complex fibers that tell more complex stories about this place. Even after gathering the plants in the Arboretum and bringing everything to the basement book arts studio, students can’t help but stay fully aware of their paper’s natural roots. Sometimes it’s the pungent scent of rotting reed canary

Papermaking, continued from page 1 objects by hand, are inherent in the Benedictine heritage of CSB/SJU and the Arboretum. In putting their hands ―on the land,‖ students gain a direct experience of these virtues as they share in a 1000-year tradition of making the material on which the collective wisdom of Western civilization is stored—paper. Rachel Melis and Scott Murphy are CSB/SJU professors of art. The paper-making class this fall was so successful that they plan to make it a regular course in the art department. What this means, of course, is that (whether they know it or not), they are well on their way to becoming new Arboretum plant experts. Don’t worry. We’ll help.

grass; sometimes it’s the painstaking process of pulling the joints out of a vat of cooked absinthe wormwood; and sometimes it’s the way the water drains slower out of cattail pulp—something keeps the students attuned to the nuance of each native or non-native plant. In this slow, sensitive, and laborious process there is time to reflect on the small details of each plant and of each sheet of paper as well as what this type of paper might say in the larger world. In class, students learn that Japanese papermakers traditionally have prepared offerings to a Shinto God of paper as a sign of respect for the materials of their craft, the place from which resources were gath-ered, and of the papermaking process itself. While Western papermaking does not share in these Shinto traditions, the honoring of place, of human-environmental interactions, and of the slow meditative process of making

Congratulations to Jan Gembol for having her photo voted Best In Show in the 2010 Arboretum Photo Contest. View all nine win-

ning photographs on the Arboretum Web site. Thank you to all the people who entered more than 300 photos in the 4th Annual

Arboretum Photo Contest. Your beautiful images help us capture the essence of this place. Start taking photos for next year!

Jan G

em

bol

2010 Arboretum Photo Contest—Best In Show

3

There’s Music In the Air

falls and it mutes winter’s sym-phony. When the wind rests, the world is soft and still. The wind slowly speeds up, sounding like the crescendo of a hundred voices in a chorus. It knocks snow out of tree hollows, creating dull, irregular patterns of thumping. Wind gusts carry the sounds of winter all around these campuses, sneaking into buildings and passing us on the trails. Some-

times snow dances in the wind all night, whistling amongst the trees and knocking against windows. When the wind becomes calm again, the howls of animals take over; their voices project sustained and legato notes across the soft snow. Winter’s song is unpredict-able, but peaceful and innocent. The snow of winter melts into the new song of spring. Spring’s song is fresh; the mute of winter disappears

Jana Graczyk

M usic, in its’ many forms, soothes and inspires. Seekers

of good music often head to the bustling nightlife of the city or plug-in to their favorite listening devices to experience their favorite tunes. But in the Arboretum, the rhythm of the seasons offers us a whole new musical selection: each season a new movement in the unique symphony of this place. The beauty of Minnesota seasons would not be the same without the natural sound-tracks, just as shopping for Christmas gifts, for example, would not be the same without humming along to ―Jingle Bell Rock‖; and watching an action movie on mute would change its intensity. The venue for autumn’s song is set in the sky where the blueness of the day becomes deeper, and the night becomes clear and crisp. Leaves are quietly drifting from the trees to the ground. Fallen, they await impressions from the cheery, light feet of the next passerby; each leaf a soloist, blending its colors and tones with the others. Busy squirrels add to the orchestration, rustling through leaves, their staccato laughter bouncing across the freezing ground. Gabbling flocks of mi-grating geese want to be heard in this song too. Other birds gossip and exchange whistles, some high-pitched and some shrill. Bashful duets can be heard amongst the flamboyant sonatas of the prima donnas or the bellowing of the feud-ing tenors. The first, quiet snow of winter comes to rest on the crisp and vibrating ground, the finale of autumn’s song. The soft leaves are replaced with snow crystals, and heavier feet crunch them, creating a slower, jagged rhythm. More snow

and sounds are clear. The wind rustles the new leaves that have returned to the trees. Raindrops begin to splash on the ground. Insects join in, their buzzes creating a tremolo, and birds trill and sing bright melodies. The rush of pouring rain comes to cleanse the land; there is an awaken-ing and a sense of renewal. The water frees and fills the silence of winter, rhythmically beating against

the shore. Giddy feet leap through puddles, and the busy paws of the forest ani-mals quickly chase each other, exploring the land, their small paces performing a scherzo. The wild rhythm of a thun-der clap brings with it the sounds of summer. Darkness lurks and the sky becomes dense, a serenade for the gath-ering Arboretum creatures. An ensemble of frogs and crickets joins in; their melodies faint at first, gradually becom-ing louder until the combi-nation of pitches, tunes, and speeds forms a loud chant. The sustained noises continue into the night, slowly becom-ing a quiet and relaxing drone. The symphony’s dynamic diminuendos into the still nighttime as the cool air’s vapor collects in the dips of the land, enhancing bass tones, and dampening the sounds of nature. There is music in the air. There is peace

in the land.

Jana Graczyk is a senior biology and Hispanic studies major at the College of Saint Benedict. As an Arboretum student naturalist, her most recently discovered talent is bringing the music of the Arboretum alive in words.

The first snowfall in the Arboretum dampens the sounds of autumn

leaves on the trail. We now listen to winter’s song.

Lin

dsey Envall

4

Sam

Johnson

After a few minutes it was clear that we weren’t moving on. We were talking and laughing, carrying on as families do. I noticed the hol-low trunk of a tree standing just beside us. It had splintered some-time before but what remained at its base was a gaping hole. I reached for my daughter’s hand and walked over for a closer look. The opening was larger than her; wider and arched like a door of a cathedral. She bent over, I knelt down. Our eyes adjusted first to the darkness and then to the rotten wood, collected leaves, and dust. A soft pile lay at the bottom. The heartwood was gone, scraped away by a young red fox, squirrel, or tree climbing raccoon. Wood dust dan-gled and twisted on a single strand of web. I think about moments like this often when considering the role of my artwork and how it intersects with the natural world. I am a potter and was trained as potters have been for centuries: to look toward their surroundings for materials and inspiration. As an artist, I’ve imagined a fu-ture full of outings to the woods, gathering firewood for the kiln or ashes to make glazes. Orange clay from this river bank could be blended with grey clay from that field. As a professor, father, and husband, however, I have found that I get to see nature most often from my own version of a ―dirty, smudged, undersized window.‖ And yet, those early encounters with nature continue to change me. I wonder how these brief encounters are already changing my daughter, and I want this change for my stu-

dents. I want them to be able to walk through that area between the wetlands and prairie, and wonder if the abrasive Horsetail could be gathered and used to make a silica-rich glaze or to notice the slow ero-sion of a river bank and feel a con-nection to the clay below. I want them to walk and notice the forest, wetland, and prairie and to know that there are places in between. This desire has changed how ce-ramics is taught at CSB/SJU. Stu-dents are encouraged to look out-side of the studio or classroom for inspiration. Many prospect and work with local clays. Wood ash, collected from area orchards and woodstoves, is used to make glaze; and regional agricultural businesses that burn wheat and sunflower hulls as a bio-fuel produce a reliable source of ash for a series of glazes. Making connections to natural materials easily leads to questions about our surroundings and our relationships with them. This heightened awareness of the world begins simply enough, but often grows in unexpected ways. My daughter still asks about that hollow tree at bed time. She asks for a story about the nature walk, ―the one with the tree.‖ Like Bill Holm says, we all see nature and the world through a window of some sort. It is my sense that encounters like my daughter’s in the Arboretum help to define that window and support the sanctity of that which is common, near, and extraordinary. Sam Johnson is a CSB/SJU professor of art. As far as we can tell, his “dirty, smudged, undersized window” must have quite the view!

Sam Johnson

M y daughter, then two, walked through the woods. We stood

on the north end of the Pine Knob trail on the downward slope of a muddy hill. The autumn colors had erupted, but they had started to fade and were past their prime. Har-riet stood waiting near her parents, her brother, grandparents, and un-cles. I had been carrying her on my shoulders, but she wanted down. It was mid-October, about a year ago. We stood resting, trying to find our way. The trail had been ob-scured by fallen leaves two or three inches deep. Stumps, stones, it made no difference; they were as hidden as the trail. We paused. Not lost. Just tired and overdressed. We lifted our gaze and studied the un-dergrowth. The pattern was nearly imperceptible, but there it was: Pine Knob trail led on.

Common, Near, and Extraordinary

As an artist, Sam Johnson draws inspiration

for his ceramics from his surroundings. As a

teacher and father, he hopes to awaken that

inspiration in his students and children.

―We do not see reality – or nature – directly, but always through a window of some sort. These windows are often

physical, the window of our ―place,‖ our experience, our particular angle onto nature. But they can also be mental,

the window of our prejudices, ignorance, ancestors, income, the boundaries we erect around the imagination. The

events of our lives, both private and public, spiritual and political, enter the consciousness through these dirty,

smudged, undersized windows.‖ —Windows of Brimnes, Bill Holm

5

Pay Attention

our ideas but allows us to impose on it. When we're struck by a feeling of wonder we think to ourselves, ―now what was that all about?‖ and take the treasure of that experience back to our world of other people. In a workshop or in the shutters of our mind we toss and turn the experience, sometimes into a painting, or a pot, or words. We spend an inordinate amount of time trying to understand our experience of the natural world, and in trying to communicate that to others. We're paid with a better under-standing of the world and of our place in it. To human beings, we creatures of ―why,‖ this is a fabulous deal. The Arboretum has a mission to provide opportunities for education, research, stewardship, and spiritual renewal. What is truly being offered is a chance for discovery about the land, each other, and those subtle, yet essential things that connect us

Ryan Kutter

W e strike out, outside and on the trail of our small wilder-

nesses tucked between roads and buildings. We often have a reason for going out to that place of few humans, hunting mushrooms or wildlife, or as a pretty place to run. But whatever our excuse, our motivation often boils down to just wanting to be out there. We want to explore, step away from the forma-tive powers of our culture and be formed by the wider, wilder world. We're going to look around at the way water runs off of the hillsides after a rain, at the rotting logs and the beetles, grubs and birds that make homes and food from them. Fundamentally, we're out to pay attention, to have a fuller experience of ourselves alive in a world that's unbounded in its own life. Given the heavy weight of information that we're asked to sort through daily, this payment of our attention is no small price. In our complicated relationships with other people, through radio, e-mail, and the endless images and words of the Internet, we choose to screen out more than we allow into our minds. What calls us to the woods and prairies is not advertising or pop-up messages, but its embodiment in a world become more abstract. This physical, sometimes rough world reminds us that we're of the same cloth as wolves and deer, our bodies pulled together from grass, mineral, and water. As explorers, carried by curiosity, we're often compelled to take notes, photos, or recordings. The raw world of nature doesn't impose on

all. What we share is not just the ability to name what we see but also the ability to observe with intention. To ―listen with the ear of the heart,‖ as the Benedictines say, calls us to observe the outer world as well as the sounds of our spirits. By getting away to those natural places, places away from our culture and expectations of ourselves, we can become more fully human and bring that gift back to our commu-nities. Thanks to the artists who carry that gift of attention back to us. Ryan Kutter is the studio manager for Saint John’s Pottery. When asked to define art, he called it the expression of an idea that challenges us to view the world in a new way. But what of those times when his wife expresses an idea that challenges him to see things her way?

Capturing the moment in which a Black-capped chickadee rests is a challenge in and of itself. But

the photo can also capture that moment of discovery, challenging us to bear witness to its presence.

Lin

dsey Envall

When we’re struck by a feeling of wonder we think to ourselves, “now

what was that all about?” and take the treasure of that experience back

to our world of other people.

6

What inspires us to read and write about nature? The poetry of the simplest of observations, connecting us to each other and our landscape.

Looking at Some Flowers

lines of the poem, ―around the pet-als, and behind them.‖ Bly’s im-agery recalls the setting sun, illumi-nating half the petal, but abandon-ing the other side in total darkness, ―on the other side of the light.‖ In this moment of observation, there is a feeling of wholeness that erases the barrier between inspira-tion and human language. Yet there is something inaccessible in that moment that Bly cannot translate directly into words. These petals are swept in a con-tinuous flow of spirit and energy that we can step into in unexpected moments – hiking down a favorite trail, paddling on a quiet lake, gaz-ing at the stars on a clear night – unaware of what overtakes us, what overwhelms our sense of presence. Amongst the petals, no outlines invade, no barriers confine. Like Bly ―looking at some flowers,‖ we tran-sition into uninterrupted connection

with each other, and our experi-ences with our landscape. The im-agery of light, dark, life, and death reminds us what it is that makes the simplest of moments so breath-taking. We feel the light on those petals, the fuzzy surfaces of the leaves, and the ground beneath our feet, all once the floor of a vast sea; and we know this world is much larger than us. Eleanor Gray is a sophomore English major at the College of Saint Benedict and is the student office assistant for the Arboretum. Her excitement about writ-ing and language is contagious. It’s one bug we should all try to catch at some point this winter, again and again. She highly recommends reading more Robert Bly poetry: www.robertbly.com.

Eleanor Gray

T he subtlest of poetic criteria – imagery and language – can be

used to connect reader and writer, person and place, and natural inspi-ration shared over distances of time and space. A seemingly ordinary moment, ―looking at some flowers,‖ can become poetry when a writer translates into language those inter-actions we have in nature that oth-erwise leave us speechless. Minnesota poet Robert Bly is able to shape his poem, ―Looking at Some Flowers,‖ as a continuum of language and observation—of light and shadow, time and space. Bly’s language skims the surface of his inspiration, recalling an image of flowers cast in the perfect light, an image as familiar as it is extraordi-nary. Enveloping the petals in spatial abyss, the light weaves within the

Mik

e Leed

ahl

―Light is around the petals, and behind them:

Some petals are living on the other side of the light.

Like sunlight drifting onto the carpet…‖

―...Or the ground this house is on,

Only free of the sea for five or six thousand years.‖

—Robert Bly, Excerpt from “Looking at Some Flowers.” The Light Around the Body. © 1967 Robert Bly (Harper & Row).

7

UPCOMING EVENTS

Arboretum Staff:

Thomas Kroll, Director/Land Manager

Sarah Gainey, Assistant Director/

Environmental Education Coordinator

John O’Reilly, Assistant Director/

Environmental Education Coordinator

Jenny Kutter, Department Coordinator

Bryan Sieh, Environmental Education Fellow

Dan Vogel, Forest Technician

Student Staff:

1 Office Assistant

2 Land Laborers

6 Student Naturalists

14 Outdoor Leadership Center Staff

16 Student Naturalist Aides

30 Peer Resource Program Facilitators

Arboretum Advisory Council:

Terri Barreiro John Geissler Bob Russell

John Benschoter Tom Haeg Stephen Saupe

Mike Connolly Troy Knight Larry Schwietz

Scott Daninger Glenn Miller Tom Wicks

Kari Dombrovski Greg Miller, OSB

Emily Franklin Janette Monear

Minnesota Natural History 3rd Monday each month Lecture Series Feb.-Apr. Free—Students (any age) & Arb members 6:30-8:00 p.m. $5—Nonmembers, nonstudents Feb. 21 Capturing the Essence of Place, Joel Truckenbrod March 21 Seeing Through the Lens, Ken Bachofer April 18 Capturing the Moment, Tony Peroutky

Interested in learning more about Minnesota’s natural world? Join us each month during the school year for a lecture and discussion on a variety of natural history topics. This year’s winter and spring lectures are a series of three presentations by local nature photographers. Enjoy their beautiful images as the photographers share the stories and inspiration behind them.

Nature Journaling: Tuesdays, January 25, Drawing To Learn February 1, 8, 15, and 22 $40—Arboretum members 6:30-8:30 p.m. $55—Nonmembers (plus materials, a material list will be provided) This will be a basic introduction to drawing and watercolor techniques that are useful in recording observations in a na-ture journal. One of the goals of this class is to make you a better observer of the natural world. Observation is a talent that involves many skills; and like most skills, observational skills can be improved with practice. This course will intro-duce you to some new tools and provide you with guidance and opportunity to practice drawing and painting what you observe.

To volunteer, register, or get more information about

Arboretum events, please call (320) 363-3163 or e-mail

arboretum@csbsju.edu. Find us on the Web at

www.csbsju.edu/arboretum

Living in the Avon Hills Saturday, February 12 Conference 9:00 a.m.—4:00 p.m. $30—Adults (16 & up) Registration starts in January $10—Kids (Ages 5-15) $40—Adults registered after Feb. 7 Minnesota native Jim Brandenburg traveled around the world as a photographer for National Geographic, but he will be in Collegeville for one day to kick off our annual confer-ence! After Brandenburg’s keynote address, enjoy a day of art, natural history, gardening, woodworking speakers, and more. Bring the kids for sessions designed just for them! The conference price includes tickets to the keynote presentation, your choice of a variety of sessions, lunch, refreshments, and access to the exhibit hall.

12th Annual Owl Hoot Thursday, February 10 Free —Arboretum members 6:30—8:00 p.m. Indoor lecture $5—Nonmembers 8:00—9:00 p.m. Optional hike Owls may dazzle us with their calls, but they are also full of other amazing adaptations for survival. Learn about the twelve owl species that can be found in Minnesota and how they survive year round. An outdoor hike under the moon to call for owls living at Saint John’s is also an option!

Maple Syrup Festivals Saturday, March 26 Saturday, April 2 $10—Adult nonmembers/scouts $1 off per person if you $5—Child nonmembers/scouts pre-register by the Friday $5—Adult Members before the festival you attend Free—Child Members (up to $10, does not apply to scouts). Join us for what has become our most popular event of the year! Sap collecting, syrup cooking, horse-drawn rides, dem-onstrations, and hot maple syrup sundaes await the whole family during this fun-filled event! Preregistration for fami-lies is preferred but not required. Preregistration for scout groups is required.

Winter Library Programs Dates and times vary Free and open to the public January 10— February 26 In conjunction with area public libraries, Saint John’s Arbo-rtum presents Minnesota Wolves. This program focuses on the history and exploration of a majestic Minnesota icon, the Gray Wolf. The Arboretum invites kids to take a closer look at the role of wolves in Minnesota. Students will explore habitat, prey and biology, and also common myths and leg-ends of the wolf through games, books, and activities. Com-ing to a library near you! Albany Cambridge North Branch Big Lake Little Falls Pierz Buffalo Monticello St. Cloud And MORE! Check our Web site for this winter’s schedule.

In this Issu

e. . . •

Pap

er a

nd

Pla

ce……

……

……

…...…

.……

..……

……

…...…

……

…...

p. 1

-2

• 20

10 P

ho

to C

on

test Be

st in S

ho

w......…

……

……

…....…

.……

....…..

p. 2

• T

here’s M

usic in

the A

ir…......…

….…

……

.……

……

…....…

..……

…

p. 3

• C

om

mo

n, N

ear, an

d E

xtra

ord

ina

ry...…

……

….....…

….…

……

……

. p

. 4 •

Pa

y A

ttentio

n…

……

……

.……

……

…..…

……

……

……

……

...……

... p

. 5

• L

oo

kin

g a

t So

me F

low

ers.…

...……

……

……

……

……

……

...……

….

p. 6

Non-Profit Org.

U.S. Postage

PAID

Saint John’s University

Saint John’s University

Collegeville, MN 56321

Contains 30% Post-Consumer Recycled and FSC Certified Paper

Season

s

SA

GA

TA

GA

N

Pu

blis

hed

q

uarterly

.

Ou

r M

issio

n

Preserve n

ative p

lan

t an

d

wild

life co

mm

un

ities o

f th

e

Arb

oretu

m lan

ds

Pro

vid

e o

pp

ortu

nities fo

r

ed

ucatio

n an

d research

Mo

del p

ractices o

f su

stain

-

ab

le lan

d u

se

Make accessib

le a n

atu

ral

en

viro

nm

en

t th

at in

vites

sp

iritu

al ren

ew

al

Win

ter 2

01

1

Sain

t Jo

hn

’s A

rb

oretu

m

en

co

mp

asses th

e lakes,

prairie, o

ak savan

nah

, an

d

wo

od

lan

d in

th

e 2

,7

40

acres

su

rro

un

din

g Sain

t Jo

hn

’s

Ab

bey an

d U

niversity.

Ou

r V

isio

n

Sain

t Joh

n’s A

rb

oretu

m

celeb

rates th

e u

niq

ue b

eau

ty

an

d rich

ness o

f G

od

’s creatio

n

in

cen

tral M

in

neso

ta an

d

fo

sters th

e B

en

ed

ictin

e

trad

itio

n o

f lan

d stew

ard

sh

ip

,

ed

ucatio

n, an

d en

viro

nm

en

tal

resp

ect.

50

b

uses an

d co

un

tin

g!

Desp

ite sn

ow

y ro

ad

s, m

ore th

an

2

00

peo

ple

atten

ded

th

e A

rb

oretu

m O

pen

Ho

use o

n D

ecem

ber 3

. Th

e raffle

rais

ed

m

ore th

an

$

80

0 fo

r th

e b

us

cam

paig

n (th

at’s 4

00

stu

den

ts!) an

d th

e

sile

nt au

ctio

n rais

ed

m

ore th

an

$

25

00

fo

r A

rb

oretu

m p

ro

gram

s an

d even

ts.

TH

AN

K YO

U!