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Japanese-American ceramicist. Mori fires porcelain and stoneware in a wood kiln she built on the Wrenfield road.

Fired for four days in a wood kiln; the green runs are wood ash that melted into glass on the rim.

The glaze breaks to rust on every edge. Mori calls this the vessel's way of showing where it has been touched.

Four blues, nested and set slightly low, so the inner square seems to rise. Okafor printed the edition in one night so that the humidity would not change the colors.

Calder's flash caught the hall mid-turn: the dancers blurred, the band sharp, and in the corner an old farmer asleep on the coats.

American sculptor. Reyes-Whitfield works in bronze, steel and wood from fallen trees, making forms about weight, balance and rest.

The only Ekwall with a way in. The doorway is the canvas left bare; the ochre around it took him eleven coats.

Cracked lakebed in low sun, each plate of mud with its own shadow. Becker printed it dark so the cracks would read as lines on a map.

Layers of red and orange worked into hot wax until the surface glows from inside, like coals the morning after.

Lind painted the field behind her Harlow studio at the same hour for a whole autumn. The bands are less a horizon than a temperature: warm ground, the rust of last light, and the blue that arrives before the stars.

Seven greys, each a little warmer than the last, laid side by side like planks. It hung in the Harlow Savings Bank lobby for thirteen years.

Early and looser than the field paintings, made in one sitting from the studio window. The grey strokes are rain; the ochre mound is the haystack that would not dry.

Norwegian-American draftswoman. Strand drew her own house, almost always in charcoal: its windows, its chairs and, once, her cat.

Nigerian-American printmaker. Okafor taught at Wrenfield College for thirty years; her screenprints test how colors change one another when they meet.

A red square and a green square of equal brightness, side by side, so the border between them seems to flicker. The fourth of six prints about colors that cancel out.

A strip of silver water running straight away from the viewer between two fields of alfalfa. Hollis called it the only straight line in the valley.

American painter. Hollis worked in gouache on paper, painting the orchards, ditches and ridges of the valley in simplified, flattened shapes.

A wooden chair pulled out from the table, as if someone has just stood up. Strand kept it in the studio so it could not be tidied away.

Carved from a single cedar log that fell across the Wrenfield road in the 2020 windstorm.

Painted the dry August after the dam went in, when the river showed its stones. Lind kept the palette to the colors of wet and dry rock.

Harlow's Main Street during the 1956 storm, from the second floor of the bank. The two figures crossing are the Paulsen sisters, on their way to open the bakery.

American painter and printmaker. Lind lived on a farm outside Harlow for sixty years and painted the same fields in every season, first as landscapes and then as soft bands of color.

A round white jar slightly out of round, as moon jars should be. The glaze pooled warm where the kiln was hottest.

Dutch-American etcher. Achterberg drew wild plants from life directly onto copper plates and printed small editions for the Harlow Garden Club.