In Prospect Park, Brooklyn today, after the rally. ... https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y9wu1fAdJEE

Until about 100 years ago, the waterway we know as Tibbetts Brook ended here, in the Northwest Bronx, where it connected with the Spuyten Duyvil (Spiten Die vel), joining the mighty Hudson. As the city grew, it was buried. Now, it ends here, about a mile north in Van Cortlandt Park, diverting over 5 million gallons of freshwater a day into the overburdened NYC sewage system. Soon, A 30-year old dream to daylight the water and extend a public park, we hope will become reality I painted the path the water will go in plein air, learning about the land by sitting with it, talking with the people I encounter, following the questions and curiosities that came up. I was supported by a City Artist Corps grant, pandemic relief for artists working in public. I prepared a handout to give to community members, suspecting the idea might not be widely known. Hurricane IDA flooded our area with a record breaking amount of rain the day I planned to start. The lake overflowed into the abandoned CSX rail line, showing us Water always knows where it needs to go. I documented each session with photographs and words, capturing observations and interactions with community members. That writing can be found on my website. This waterway formerly known as Moshulu, Algonquin for smooth stone, never really left. I found it’s presence in errant cat-tail marshes, innocuous puddles, and city-wide records for 311 flooding complaints. This uncovered stream would be the first of its kind in NYC. A public path alongside would allow someone to bike from the Hudson to Canada. To bring to daylight a buried stream, you also must unearth the stream in the public imagination. I had wondered if painting could have any impact or contribution to this moment? Artists can help guide this necessary realignment of learning how to listen to, understand, and live within our landscapes. Only after I finished did I realize that I was already participating in a moment by deciding to paint it as if I was enlisted by the water itself. We also need to bring back wetlands wherever we can. I learned a lot, and had countless conversations with people I would have never talked with otherwise, even breaking through language barriers on several occasions. Many neighbors shared artworks of their own. The floodwaters are coming, the moment before our community decides to be proactive, or ultimately reactive. I hope the paintings had some small impact on changing that tide, but maybe merely the fact it was painted is evidence itself of that change. This is an ongoing conversation between people and land and water. A watershed is not just the path of the water, but it is the culture, people, and attendant ecosystems as well. The paintings become, in part, an expression of the land ... https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yPDdHi7Tt2k