Feature Interview with Summer J. Hart: An Exploration of Heritage, Memory, and Artistry

Feature Interview with Summer J. Hart: An Exploration of Heritage, Memory, and Artistry

By Ryan Leighton, Maine Arts Commission | Communications Director

Portrait photo by Jessica Hallock

In her captivating exhibit, Out in May Back by October, artist and writer Summer J. Hart weaves together personal history, industrial labor, and environmental reflection through her intricately crafted works. Drawing on her Mi'gmaq heritage and family's deep-rooted connection to Maine's paper and logging industries, Hart's art bridges the past and present, inviting viewers to consider both extraction and sustainability.

Her monumental loom-beaded portrait of her paternal grandparents, Robert Fraser and Mary Metallic, forms the heart of this project. But it's Hart's thoughtful and personal approach to creating this work, and the materials she uses, that makes it truly remarkable.

Out in May Back by October is part of the Maine Arts Commission's rotating Art in the Capitol exhibits and is currently on display at the Maine State House Gallery in Augusta through December 2024.

[This interview has been edited for length and clarity.]

Q: Your exhibit title, "Out in May Back by October," references the river drives that once defined Maine's industrial history. What inspired you to connect this part of Maine's past with your artwork, and how does it reflect your personal connection to the region?

Summer J. Hart: One Fourth of July, I asked my Aunt Bridget how long my grandfather, Bobby, was gone every year on the drives. I knew he was a river driver but didn't know much about what that entailed. I had just watched a TV interview with my Great Uncle Nelson from 1987, in which he described Bobby as "catlike on the boom." Nelson, I found out, was the boss of the drives. Bridget answered, "Bobby went out in October and came back by May."

"Out in May Back by October" is a portrait of my paternal grandparents, Robert Fraser and Mary Metallic, who met on the Listuguj (then Restigouche) Mi'gmaq First Nation reserve during a Great Northern Paper Company recruitment drive. The photo I used as reference was taken in Norcross, Maine-the edge of the West Branch of the Penobscot River-on The Fourth of July.

Hart's choice to use the story of her grandparents as a central narrative to her work speaks to a larger theme of familial bonds, migration, and the labor histories that have shaped Maine. Her intimate connection with both the land and the industry is brought to life in the materials she uses.

Q: The "109 Dyewater Ink Drop Drawings" series represents the 109 miles of the Penobscot River. What drew you to use waste dye from your bead-dyeing process for these drawings, and what story are you telling through this symbolic use of recycled materials?

Summer J. Hart: Papermaking is a water-intensive process. Since the base material was salvaged paper-the product of ridiculous amounts of labor, waste, and pollution-all coming from, or flowing into, or otherwise depending on the Penobscot and other rivers in Maine-I wanted to recycle as many elements of my project as possible. I found a calming, cyclical rhythm in boiling water for pulping and then collecting it back from the air with a dehumidifier. I imagine this is what it's like to be a cloud.

Through this method, Hart connects the environmental impacts of the paper industry with the process of art-making itself. Her drawings are more than just visual pieces-they are acts of reclaiming and repurposing, speaking to themes of waste, sustainability, and renewal.

Q: Your large-scale loom-beaded portrait of your paternal grandparents is incredibly personal and intricate. Can you share more about the creative process behind this piece and how your family's history, particularly their connection to the Great Northern Paper Company, influenced your work?

Summer J. Hart: I was born in Millinocket and grew up in Hampden. Our house in Hampden overlooked the Penobscot River. I often snuck down a wooded hill to the river's banks to watch for eagles. My family heritage stretches back several generations in the paper and logging industry. My mom left Millinocket when I was an infant, but both of my grandfathers worked at the mill.

One of my earliest memories is of touring the Millinocket mill with my grandfather. I still dream about the massive rolls of paper I saw in the mill. They are part of my visual memory.

When I conceived of making a beaded portrait of my grandparents, I knew the material had to be paper. I wanted it to be the product of the woods and waters my ancestors labored in, but I wasn't sure if any actual mill paper from Millinocket remained. Through a series of family connections, I was able to source 12,000 square feet of paper, untouched in its wrapping, from the ruins of the East Millinocket mill itself.

My work is obsessive. I love nothing more than handwork and repetition. I spent six months shredding, weighing, pulping, straining, molding (with a chef's mini-meatballer), dyeing, and drilling reclaimed newsprint into over 8000 paper beads. I had a factory-style set up in my studio that mimicked, in a small way, the intense labor of felling, bucking, sawing, driving, chipping, digesting, bleaching, washing, screening, and finishing timber into paper.

Q: You've mentioned that your Native aunt and your mother taught you bracelet-making techniques, which you've applied to your beading work. How does your Mi'gmaq heritage influence your art, and what role does cultural tradition play in your creative expression?

Summer J. Hart: A throughline in my written and visual work is my relationship to my Mi'gmaq heritage. Although I never knew my Mi'gmaw father and grew up the only mixed-race child in my home, my Native family have been in my life since I was born-and they have always fiercely claimed me. My next project NDN Country 1975 is a deep dive into the identity politics of being both Native and settler, and of the desire to claim or reclaim Indigenous cultural identity.

Mom and Bridget have been close friends for nearly 60 years and began beading together, I believe, in the 1970s. I'm not sure who, if anyone, taught them. When my cousin Christiana and I were little, they showed us how to weave with beads on handmade wooden looms. Christiana and I beaded geometric patterns in turquoise and orange-the southwestern style diamonds we thought represented our Native culture. Our Nana was a survivor of Canadian Indian Residential School and moved from Listuguj when she was 21. While she remained close to her parents and siblings, she never passed on her language or traditions to her children or grandchildren.

As kids, the best points of reference Christiana and I had for "being Indian" were what we watched on TV Central Maine Indian Association Christmas parties. (Until they kicked us out for being Canadian First Nations, even though we were all Mainers from birth-but that's a whole other story).

Q: In addition to your visual art, you are an accomplished writer, with your book Boomhouse winning the 2024 Nassar Poetry Prize. How do themes of nature, history, and sustainability weave into your literary work, and how do they connect to the themes in your visual art?

Summer J. Hart: Boomhouse and Out in May, Back by October are inextricably bound. The beadwork is the visual counterpoint to the book. As well as something I borrowed from my Aunt Bridget, the title is also a line from the title poem of the collection.

The characters of Boomhouse-the crows, Nana, Nadine, Winnie, Red, the three-legged dog, my sister-are, or were, my intimate family, friends, and neighbors. The poems are rooted in place; they follow along the banks of the Penobscot watershed from the north end of Chesuncook Lake out into the Atlantic Ocean at Penobscot Bay, though they center around Millinocket. Many Boomhouse poems are told from the imagined perspective of Nana and Bobby during the years Bobby worked on the river drives. Others date from the near present, when Nana was dying in memory care; while others describe growing up in rural Maine in the 1980s, when Nana's generation was giving way to that of my mother's and aunts, all marked by the absence of and longing to know my biological father.

Water remembers. Paper, too, has a memory.

All Art in the Capitol exhibits are free and open to the public. Exhibitions are self-guided and may be viewed during business hours.

For more on Summer J. Hart and her work, visit summerjhart.com and explore her upcoming exhibitions.