To scramble to shelter along a ridgeline in a thunderstorm, to stow food out of reach of bears, and to cross a raging glacial stream is to reset our notion of the world order, forcing us to confront the limitations of our size and fragility. In walking next to mountains so tall they seem to pierce the sky, standing in the shelter of trees older than our grandparents’ grandparents, and looking up at the night sky to find thousands of dazzling stars, we may glimpse the sublime.
-KG, 2023
When I moved home to recover from chronic illness in my mid-20s, I found myself with photographs from my travels, wool from my family’s pet sheep, and time on my hands. Seeking a way to return to the places I’d loved and relive memories shrouded by brain fog, I began felting the landscapes I’d witnessed on my hikes.
As my practice evolved, so did the scale of my work. I began crafting larger pieces to better reflect the vastness of the backcountry—the grandeur of glacier-carved valleys, the drama of alpine storms, the hush of high desert dawn. In spirit, I see myself as a contemporary descendent of the Hudson River School: artists who painted the American landscape with reverence and urgency, hoping to inspire conservation by awakening awe. Each felting is both a tribute and a call—to honor the wild spaces we inherit and to protect them for those yet to come.
This body of work was supported in part by a 2022 Emerging Artist Award from the Kentucky Arts Council.
Kris Grenier 