Making Art in the Mountains with Emma Mary Murray

Emma Mary Murray’s Issue 13 story, Stitched Together, documents the work of the North Cascade Glacier Climate Project—a combined group of scientists and writers who spend weeks in the Washington mountains every summer researching and documenting, through art, the region’s glacial recession. Murray, an illustrator and embroidery artist (find her work as far back as the Cartograph of Issue 1), chatted with Hiker Box Editor Angie Stevens about her work, the project, the North Cascades, and the role art has in documenting them. 

TM: How did you get involved with the North Cascade Glacier Climate Project? 

EM: The spring before I joined the North Cascade Glacier Climate Project survey, art director Jill Pelto and I chatted about a glacier art show she was planning. She floated the idea that I might be a fit for a future summer’s residency, and I eagerly cleared my calendar for that August. The trip was an incredible combination of backpacking, art making, and processing the impacts of our changing climate on the ecosystems we experienced in real time. In addition to creating plein air work in the field, I’ve gotten to continue collaborative climate communication efforts since returning home. Projects have included our Shaped by Ice art shows in Seattle and Twisp, Washington, writing about the experience for Trails and other publications, and sharing the textile pieces I created at shows here in Maine.

TM: What was it like using art to show this glacier data? 

EM: I find that the textural elements of fiber art can draw people into the stories of landscapes in a different way than written words can. It’s about trying to capture the feeling of these places that need us to fight for them. We need storytellers in every medium to be talking about climate change.

Personally, I think textile work can touch on themes of time, light, flow, and topography in a way that makes these concepts visceral. It’s also deeply collaborative: I couldn’t make my art without folks dedicated to learning the science behind it. The practice itself, which comes through in the final work, requires slow, methodical movement––a necessity for climate action in spite of our fast-paced society. 

TM: How do you find space for art—and specifically embroidery—while places like Mount Baker's Coleman Glacier? 

EM: Making space for textile art while in the field requires time and a certain level of comfort with discomfort. Things are going to get cold and wet, and improvisation is important. I often started working in gorgeous conditions and continued to create as conditions changed. Sometimes I stitched by headlamp from my sleeping bag in the evening. A portable, durable supply kit and a flexible mindset are important! The dirt on my canvases add to their character.

TM: A painted, embroidered, and quilted piece is featured in your Issue 13 story. Can you go deeper into the process of making it, and the sense of observation and presence that is required?

EM: I created the large flag of the Coleman Glacier that’s featured in the piece the winter after joining the North Cascade Glacier Climate Project in the field. It took many layers and mediums: paint, pen, quilting, and lots of yarn and thread of various weights. I hoped to emphasize flow in this piece. Although the runoff lessens as the glacier shrinks, for the moment, this water links the ice to the downstream world. I created this piece with more negative space than in some of my other landscape art because the places where the glacier isn’t feel heavier than where the glacier is. 

TM: What is something you hope readers take away from your Issue 13 story?

EM: Good things take time! As a climber and outdoors-person, I’m used to prioritizing efficiency, but in art and climate action, it’s all about patience and playing the long game. The work Jill and Mauri are doing with the North Cascade Glacier Climate project is a testament to the value in showing up year after year––in good weather and bad––and sticking with a goal over time. I’m working on developing art and advocacy practices that are steady and proactive instead of reactive, and I hope readers of the article will want to join me.