The self-evident character of Clyde Connell’s work, especially the sculptures, tempts us into received categories of response. For example, Adam Simon’s laconic 1984 film on Connell starts from the premise that the “mystery” of nature from which we are historically and technologically alienated is at the center of her art. He, like others, tends to shroud the work in the ground fog of Lake Bistineau, Louisiana, where Connell lives and produces her art, obscuring the objective clarity of the work’s meaning. This notion of mystery is more a function of the mental distance from which we experience