Rivulets gurgle
beneath pockmarked meadows,
crisscrossing heartland –

vole-scarred, still ice-encrusted –
upheaval one breath away –

Transition – Metamorphosis

Winter still prevails. A fleeting snow dusts the fields, muting color. Yet tiny green spears pierce the crusty ground. The first snowdrop in the garden portends Gijrradálvvie, what the Sami people of Europe’s far north call the season of awakening. Americans in the Northeast refer to it as mud season. An intense, if short, and particularly messy period of transition, metamorphosing into spring.

This perfectly describes my life over the past few months. Abruptly, unexpectedly, my landlord terminated the lease on my beautiful mill studio in Wiesensteig on the Fils, after just four years. A month later I’d found a new studio, only 3 kilometers downstream, in a pretty village called Gosbach. Over the last weeks I’ve been intensely busy renovating the new place and preparing the move. The new studio is half the size of the old one, so I’m confronted with the painful necessity of downsizing. A messy business, as it means culling, killing a few darlings.

At the same time, something new wants to grow. Thus, half of me is in destruction mode; the other half, in reinvention mode. Half of me is grieving, the other half busily envisioning what’s to come. Packing up hundreds of framed works, throwing away what literally and metaphorically no longer “fits,” cleaning up every last trace of my presence versus the physical labor involved in renovating, repainting, reinstalling, and reimagining the new studio.

By March 1, I hope the metamorphosis will be complete. I look forward to welcoming you into my new Atelier + Galerie Glang, Unterdorfstraße 19, 73342 Bad Ditzenbach-Gosbach.

Website Manager: Leo Ebert-Glang

Programmer: Benjamin Rindt


Dálvvie – Winter, the season of caring

I am delighted to announce a long-held plan come true: the new edition of my website! New look, new contents, user-friendly (self-) maintenance – all this will motivate me, I hope, to regularly update. In any case, I have the best intentions.

A grateful thank you to Leo Ebert-Glang and Benjamin Rindt, who took on the design and programming. I hope these two will continue to support me for a while, until I’m able to maintain the website by myself.

Some years ago, I stumbled upon the Sami people’s division of the year into eight seasons. The vast majority of this indigenous population in northern Scandinavia earn their living raising raindeer. To me, the names of the seasons sound very poetic, clearly reflecting their deep connection with nature. Raindeer are only half-domesticated, following the migratory trails of their wild ancestors across impassable territory of forests and mountains. Early winter, for example, is called the season of migration, Tjakttjadálvvie. It is the season in which the raindeer begin their migrations in search of new feeding grounds. Dálvvie, deep winter, describes the period in which nature is dormant beneath a deep, protective snow cover. Late winter, Gijrradálvvie, between late February and late April, is the season of awakening.

Thus I imagine the upcoming winter months as a time of nurture. Nature shuts down, slumbering, renewing itself – to finally reawaken in spring, bursting with vitality and brimful of sap. Inspired by the eight Sami seasons, I plan to publish this blog eight times a year. What to expect? Stay tuned!




2000 SCOP Publications, Maryland (anthology, edited by Carolyn Kreiter-Foronda, Alice Marie Tarnowski) (To order:

SEASONS OF SHARING, Kasen Renku in 5 languages (poems)

2014 Joyce Brinkman, Carolyn Kreiter-Foronda, Flor Aguilera, Catherine Aubelle, Gabriele Glang, Leapfrog Press, Fredonia, NY


2015 Palimpsisters Press (poems), Geislingen/Steige

Complete list of all published works in anthologies and other print media: Download