Rachel Mentzer Transforms Discarded Cartons into Dusky Collagraphs

“Where Powerlines Sing.”

One of the most common sights in cities is birds perched on power lines, although it rarely elicits a second look. Starlings chortle, pigeons coo, and the occasional hawk perches on a pole to scan the ground for its next meal. And yet, as normal as this seems, there’s nothing natural about it. Instead of trees, these feathered creatures rely on whatever infrastructure is around them, from wires and pylons to fences and rooftops.

“At the Flats”

For Ohio-based artist Rachel Mentzer, nature’s resilience is central to a practice focused on sustainability and environmental renewal. Her work “invites viewers to reflect on the interplay between human activity and the natural world, emphasizing the adaptability and fragility of nature,” says a statement.

“Pylon Birds”

Mentzer’s practice emphasizes collagraphy, an intaglio printmaking technique in which flattened materials—especially paper and card but also other items like leaves or acrylic surfaces—can be used to create a plate from which to make prints. She meticulously carves the delicate surfaces of found cartons with motifs of birds, trees, and energy infrastructure, then brushes them in polyurethane to preserve and prepare them for printing. Occasionally, she also employs chine collé, which uses delicate papers, to add colorful backgrounds.

“Golden Eagles”

The artist then coats the design with ink, wipes off the excess, and places the damp substrate into an etching press to transfer the image to a larger sheet of paper, producing the final piece. Thanks to the pressure of the transfer and the way the ink seeps into every handmade and incidental mark, the final print reveals a textural composition with crisp outlines. Birds and urban details alike are inextricable from the silhouette of a material that may have otherwise been destined for the landfill, summoning a constant reminder of the relationship between humans and nature.

“Still Standing”

Mentzer’s work was recently included in the Manhattan Graphics Center’s community print studio exhibition, and this summer, she’s looking forward to participating in the Suzanne Wilson Artist-in-Residence Program at Glen Arbor Arts Center in Michigan. See the artist’s process on her website, where you can also check if she will be at an art fair in your area throughout the spring and summer. See more on Instagram.

“Magnolia Warbler”

“Skybound Over Steel”

Demura Sensei's OCC Tournament, 1985, with John Yamasaki

This pattern looks planned, but no human designed it. In Tsavo National Park, Kenya, one lone acacia tree became the center of a natural traffic system traced by wildlife over time.

From above, the ground appears stitched with lines running outward in every direction. These are animal paths, created gradually by repeated footsteps pressing vegetation and soil into visible tracks. What seems artistic is actually practical.

In semi-arid ecosystems, an isolated tree can be unusually valuable. It offers shade during extreme heat, edible leaves and pods, resting cover, and a landmark easy to spot across open terrain. For animals moving long distances, that matters.

Elephants may strip bark or browse branches. Giraffes feed high in the canopy. Antelope and zebras may pause nearby where temperatures are lower and visibility remains open. Smaller species also benefit from insects, seeds, and shelter linked to the tree.

Ecologists often describe places like this as resource nodes, locations that attract repeated movement and shape behavior across a wider landscape. Many species making independent choices can still produce one shared pattern.

So the real story is larger than a tree. It shows how survival decisions, repeated for years, can redraw the land itself until the earth begins to reveal where life depends most.