A Legacy in Transit: Eric Elder’s Cross-Country Tribute to His Mother, Artist Connie Zehr

In the aftermath of a remarkable life, Connie Zehr’s legacy began to move again — this time, in the back of a U-Haul driven by her son.

After a lifetime of creating delicate sand installations, teaching generations of artists, and living with an almost monastic devotion to form and feeling, artist and Professor Emerita Connie made one final request: She wanted nearly all of her artwork — along with her vast archive of exhibition catalogs, gallery brochures, and ephemera collected since the 1960s — to be donated to the Art Department at Claremont Graduate University, where she had taught for 28 years.

The request wasn’t entirely about preservation. It was about place. CGU had been her artistic home for nearly three decades, and even after retiring and relocating to New York, she remained tethered to its quiet studios and sunlit classrooms; the kind of spaces where ideas, like her sand sculptures, were allowed to settle and breathe.

When Connie passed away on April 4, 2025, at the age of 87, it fell to her son, Eric Elder, to carry out her final wish. And rather than hiring a shipping company, Eric made the personal decision to deliver her work himself across the country, mile by mile.

It was a chance to stay close to her for just a little longer, to accompany the work with care and reflection.

He packed up her entire studio — all her artwork, archives, and materials, carefully crated and wrapped — and set off alone to Claremont, California from Corning, New York, nearly 2,600 miles away.

A Journey Steeped in Meaning

The trip took about a week and spanned thousands of miles and countless landscapes. But it was not just distance that marked the passage, it was time. The quiet of the cab, the steady hum of the road, and the long horizon lines gave space for memory to settle in. The drive was a meditation, not rushed or frantic, but deliberate.

The final stretch through the western states left a distinct impression on Eric. As the landscape shifted from flat plains to canyons, ridges, and open sky, the mood of the trip began to change. The light in Utah, the wind across Nevada, and the stillness of the California desert all felt familiar in a way that brought him closer to his mother’s world.

He frequently stopped to photograph the changing landscapes through the window of the U-Haul. The act of capturing these places became its own kind of dialogue between mother and son. In many ways, the journey was like a final collaboration.

Returning the Sand

Among Connie’s final wishes was one more request: that the sand she had used in her installations be returned to where it came from — Valley of Fire State Park in Nevada.

This was not a symbolic gesture. It was a deliberate act of closure. Sand had long been central to her work, not just as material, but as a collaborator. Her installations explored impermanence, balance, and the subtle interplay between natural elements and human intention. To Connie, the sand was never hers to keep. It had been borrowed, shaped, honored — and now, it was time to let it go. Eric contacted the park rangers ahead of time and arranged to bring it back. The exchange was simple and quiet. No fanfare, no formalities. Just a moment of return, the kind his mother would have appreciated.

What had once been transformed in the studio was now folded back into the desert, its stillness intact. The work was finished. The material was home.

Arrival in Claremont

When Eric reached Claremont, he was welcomed by members of the Art Department — some who had known Connie personally, others who had come to know her through the stories, catalogs, and legacy that lingered in the program.

“Connie was a meticulous professional in her art, as a Professor and Chair of the Art Department at Claremont Graduate University.” said one of Connie’s longtime colleagues Professor David Amico. “She was kind, nurturing and a quiet leader to all who worked closely with her. Her presence contributed to the success and reputation of our program.”

Together, they began to carefully unload what she had left behind. Each box held traces of her creative vision: layered histories, materials, and ideas awaiting rediscovery.

The full scope of the collection will take time to explore and understand. But even in those first moments, as the contents were carried in and placed gently on tables and shelves, there was a shared understanding: something important had returned.

In this centennial year for Claremont Graduate University, the timing feels nearly poetic — as if the return of Connie’s work, through the hands of her son, was both a tribute to the institution’s past and a quiet guidepost for its future. A reminder of the many artists who have come through its doors, and of those still to come.

Art, and Everything That Comes After

Some griefs are loud. This one stretched across a continent at times in silence, other times with music to match the scene, but often tucked between highway lines and canyon walls, softened by wind and sun. It unfolded slowly, like one of Connie’s installations. Intentional, contemplative, grounded in the natural world.

Now, in CGU’s archives and on the walls of the studios where she used to create and teach, Connie Zehr’s legacy will live on. Studied, admired, and deeply felt.

If you’d like to see more of Connie Zehr’s work, please head over to her catalogue website.