For a long time I grieved and raged. Now I use my skills and a little sorcery to change the valence of the trash I collect from negative to positive. I weave the overlooked into a poetic visual presence I hope can remind us all that our earth is beautiful and complicated and magical. This process of observing nature, collecting trash, and making art has become a spiritual practice for me.

These sculptures are each based on a bird I have traveled through the outdoors with. Many of the wood pieces I use come from trees knocked over in a flood so I can use parts of the roots where a stone got incorporated in the wood. This resiliency during growth is an inspiration to me. People who live close to the land and make everything they need must use what they can find in their immediate environment. I enjoy that kind of resourcefulness. Each piece is a manifestation of many days of labor. This kind of devotion only happens when we love something. I love this planet and am grateful for the places my feet touch the ground here.

These adorned bone-like sculptures are both memorial and messenger, epitaph and prophecy, funeral dirge and call-to-arms.

These urban waterways carry the flood of storm water from the surfaces of our human-built landscape out to the Chesapeake Bay and the ocean beyond. The water gathers whatever it encounters in the roads and gullies. This flotsam and jetsam whispers clues to life. Found objects and foraged organic materials later combine in the studio as spiritual translators for Earth’s pleas and wisdom. Jordan speaks in the language of the terrain we zoom past every day, busy ignoring our breathing earthling brethren.

These forests have witnessed and been victims of our human folly for hundreds of years now. Some trees seem to gesticulate as spokespeople, warning of the looming climate cataclysm. The large works combine these patient arboreal expressions with phrases from female environmentalists, poets, and social justice activists. Jordan is inspired by these brave women who were often themselves victims of injustice and their work was often ignored. Degradation of women and abuse of the Earth historically go hand in hand. Each sculpture was designed with some of these writings in mind.

When I walk the urban wilds of stream water run-off forests, I feel set free from the organization of the chronological timeline we have in our heads. I become one with the cycles of the seasons, the immense power of floodwaters, the tracks a heron leaves. The past, present, and future merge into one.

Since most of my urban wilds are only traveled by animals, I can imagine the beauty and grandeur of Mid-Atlantic North America before colonists arrived.

Or I can focus, like an archaeologist, on the man-made objects now claimed by the stream or forest floor, and ponder the marks of human behavior.

Eventually I feel as though I am out to forge a life in this terrain. Survival. What might I find that is edible or useful.

This leads me to feel a bit post-apocalyptic. How would I describe the meaning of life given a clean slate to invent a my own spirituality formed by this place?

These are large scale carvings of wood and found objects. They speak to socio-economic, environmental, and emotional issues.