How Dry Run Came to Life
- Maki Teshima
- Jun 7
- 2 min read
Updated: Jun 18
I am currently working on a two-person exhibition at RMCAD’s Philip J. Steele Gallery, on view from June 15 through July 24, 2026.
When Sharifa Lafon first reached out about doing a show together, I was surprised.
We had only met briefly at an exhibition opening and had never really had a conversation.
To be honest, I was a little skeptical. My past experiences made me wonder if anything would actually come from the idea...!
But as we talked, we discovered unexpected connections in our recent experiences with nature. Sharifa told me about a valley in western Colorado she had visited the previous fall, where remnants of old mining operations had left behind striking deposits of metal-rich sediment. I shared a story about a pond near my home in Washington Park that had completely dried up. The water level had dropped so dramatically that I saw a lone turtle swimming in what was little more than a puddle.
Around the same time, both of us received postcards from the City of Denver warning residents about drought conditions. One side simply read, in large letters: “DROUGHT!” It was a stark reminder that water restrictions would become severe this summer.
We decided to visit the valley Sharifa had mentioned together. For safety reasons, we cannot disclose its location. We still do not fully understand the potential health risks associated with the water there, so we wore boots and gloves while exploring the area and handling anything near the creek.
The valley completely blew my mind.
I had never seen such vivid orange mud flowing through a creek. The plants growing along the water appeared strangely gray and black, as if their natural color had been drained away. I expected to find mushrooms throughout the area, but because of the lack of snow and rain over the winter, most of them had dried up completely.
That visit became a major source of inspiration for the work I am creating for this exhibition.
For the past several months, I have been dyeing silk organza almost every day. The color palette for this show is rooted in earthy tones. I mordanted the fabric with tannin and alum, dyed it with onion skins collected from Katsu Ramen, layered additional tannin and iron treatments, experimented with bundle dyeing techniques, and incorporated earth pigments I brought back from Osaka.
The resulting works reflect both the beauty and fragility of the landscapes that inspired them-places shaped by water, drought, pollution, and time.Even though the dyeing process is complete, the installation is still in progress.
Installing fabric in a gallery space always feels a bit like painting. Every color has to be placed in exactly the right location, at the right height, and in relationship to the surrounding pieces. It is often the most exhausting and frustrating part of the process.
But I am confident everything will come together by the end of this week.
I cannot wait to share the finished installation and final images before the exhibition opens on June 15.






















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