2024: A Year of Reflection, Transformation, and Purpose

2024 has been a year of profound transformation—marked by growth, resilience, and a reevaluation of purpose. My second year as a 2023 Bush Fellow has been a time of immense learning, not only about my work but about myself. Returning to college to pursue my Museum Studies Certificate at Harvard University has been an eye-opening experience. After 20 years, stepping back into academia has been both exhilarating and intimidating. I’ve confronted antiquated systems, questioned the pervasive influence of settler colonialism in museum spaces, and grappled with the emotional toll of pushing for systemic change.
The work itself is necessary, even urgent, but it’s hard on the spirit. At times, I’ve felt like I was carrying this weight alone, unsure of how much of my burden I could or should share with others. A lingering trauma response, no doubt—I often hesitate to trust or to ask for help. Yet, this year has also gifted me with opportunities to expand my network, leading to powerful and affirming conversations. These connections have reminded me that I am not alone and have renewed my faith in the impact of this work.
Balancing the demands of traveling, studying, volunteering, and family life has been challenging. While I feel blessed to be able to contribute to my community and grow professionally, the sacrifices have been real. I’ve missed moments with my children, felt stretched thin in my role as a spouse, and struggled to carve out time for my studio and creative practice. Still, despite these challenges, I completed four major projects this year—each one deeply personal and meaningful.

"Ganawenindizo" Exhibit at the Phipps Center for the Arts, Hudson, Wisconsin
Click here to read about the exhibit
ganawenindizo-she-takes-care-of-herself.html

"OJIIBIWAKAN"
This painting, soon to be displayed at Lucile Packard's Stanford Medicine Children’s Health facilities in the new Cancer Infusion Center, located in Palo Alto, California, represents the resilience and vibrancy of my cultural identity. To see this work find a home in a space dedicated to healing is profoundly humbling. It’s a reminder of art’s potential to comfort and inspire, even across great distances.


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"Echoes of Turtle Mountain" Mural (Phase II)
This project, completed at Turtle Mountain Head Start, is a love letter to my community and a visual tribute to our enduring traditions. The mural celebrates our interconnectedness with the land, sky, and generations past and future. For me, this piece is especially poignant because it resides in a space tied to my own formative years. To leave this legacy in the heart of Turtle Mountain fills me with pride and gratitude.

"Radiant Harmony: The Spirit's Medicine"
Created for Altru Health System’s Radiation department, this work weaves together threads of my culture, my health journey, and my family’s professional and personal passions. Inspired by my husband’s role as a Radiation Oncological Medical Physicist and my daughter’s interest in radiology, the piece reflects the healing energy of nature and the interconnectedness of science and spirit.

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Through these projects, I’ve been able to share pieces of my heart with the public, but the process hasn’t been without its trials. There were moments of heartbreak—times when the weight of expectations, rumors, assumptions, gossip, setbacks, or unhealed wounds felt overwhelming. I feel as I am grieving for the loss of hope and optimism. At the same time, there were moments of profound inspiration—when the power of art to heal and connect felt undeniable.

As I reflect on these experiences, I find myself asking deep and difficult questions about my future. How do I continue to share my work with the community in a way that feels sustainable, both emotionally and logistically? How do I create space for my creative practice without losing sight of my other roles as a parent, partner, and advocate?

Sometimes, the answers seem out of reach, leaving me wondering if my work belongs out in the world or if it should be confined to the quiet solace of my studio. The thought of retreating, of tucking my creations into storage, is both tempting and heartbreaking. Yet, I know the impact my art has had—not just on myself, but on those who’ve encountered it.

Rest and the Radical Act of Pausing

This year, I’ve also come to see how radical it feels to rest. I keep telling myself that I need to make time to pause, but in a world that prizes constant motion, it feels almost impossible. Recently, I experienced a rare evening with no obligations after 5 p.m. The freedom overwhelmed me to the point of near tears, which brought laughter to others because I simply shared that relief. Such a simple moment felt extraordinary, and it reminded me of how deeply ingrained this culture of busyness has become. And though people have their assumptions, I know that I need to make it a point to rest and not because my health or body is forcing me to, but like others, I deserve it as well.

It’s been a while since I painted simply for myself, free from expectations. Even when I tell myself to take a step back, the push to “do more” lingers. I think of the disappointments, like my solo show at the Phipps Center for the Arts, where hopes of advancing professionally were met with expenses, no sales, and no future shows. Or the empty reception at the ND Human Rights Art Exhibit. These moments sting as they also push me to reassess and recalibrate. I will note, it was a wonderful experience to have a three gallery space not only to share my paintings, but installation art and poetry, inviting viewers to interact. How rare it is to possess a space where I can express myself fully. 

Carrying Forward

Through all of this, I’ve seen the gifts of travel, the richness of connecting with people, and the insights gained from the spaces I’ve inhabited. These experiences have deepened my resolve to elevate others and help society see the relevancy of our work.

I’ve also observed the collective exhaustion we’re all feeling. From conversations in Southern California to encounters with conference attendees, the weariness is evident. We carry burdens others often fail to see or empathize with, forgetting that we all deserve happiness—and the right to rest.

These experiences also reminded me that boundaries are essential, even if they’re difficult to maintain. I’ve learned that while it’s important to give, it’s equally important to reserve some of my energy for myself and those I hold closest. I’m still figuring out how to balance these competing demands, but I remain hopeful that the journey ahead will bring clarity. It is a continual challenge to move forward in the spirit of altruism when I am not taking care of my own family through financial sustainibility. Yet, I will keep moving forward, just not at the pace others demand.

For now, I am grateful for the opportunities I’ve had to create, to connect, and to grow. I am forever thankful for the people who have supported and respected me authentically—those who quietly cheer from their spaces, offering encouragement in ways that are often unseen but deeply felt. Their belief in me has been a guiding light through this complex journey.

2024 has been a year of challenges, but it has also been a year of beauty and resilience. As I look toward the future, I am reminded of the strength of my community, the power of art, and the infinite possibilities that lie ahead. Whatever comes next, I’ll continue to walk this path with purpose and an open heart. 

I truly wish you all the very best in your paths. 

Light and love to all,

Hillary