Finally a few picture peeks of the finished sculptures at the Devil Woman Saloon for you to see.  I will be frank.  Once we stuffed these buggers into their allotted corners, they simply “died” in the dark.  The post-placement moment was seriously and painfully anti-climatic and a far cry from the expected “TA DA!!!”

Yes my client was there.  Brenda seemed happy and excited but then she is a super nice person (that’s an understatement) and could very well have been just being kind.  I grabbed her teeny tiny long haired teacup chiwawa Cami and bolted to the ranch warehouse in search of some lights.  With Cami tucked in the crook of my arm, I loaded up with clamp lights and extension cords, crossed the ranch to the Saloon and attempted to “show” the sculptures with a bit of hard harsh light illumination.

Better.  At least Brenda could get a bit of an idea but the sculptures were far from “finished” and not worth applauding.  The delivery day was a confusing gamut of emotions.  Honestly I felt as if I had crossed valleys, climbed peaks, thrashed my way through thick jungles, inhaled buckets of sawdust and sat my tuckered scratched and famished body down eagerly to a deliciously prepared full five course dinner at a table set with white linen and one of those silver shiny cover thingees over my plate lifted with a polished flair by a decked-out butler and there…. Before my ravenous eyes and centered on my fine china plate….lay… (drum roll please) …a little smelly dog poo.

Ok.  The sculptures are a far cry from dog poo.  They might even be GRAND without upstaging their surroundings as planned but first they must be lit properly.  The excessive emotions could simply be chalked up to: a) being a passionate artist b) being an emotional girl c) hormones d) the culmination of expectation after a rather challenging journey.  I am guessing all of the above played into an unsettled feeling that left me cranky (poor Paul) and far from satisfied.  We sat down in the saloon and shared a few shots in “celebration” but that was a bit like planting a flag before reaching the summit: anti-climatic.  The next day Paul and I scampered to the nearest city in search of lights.  We scoured lighting shops, landscape warehouses, Lowe’s and Home Depot in the hopes we would not have to return to the Devil Woman Saloon empty-handed but the specialized lighting we need is not something places keep in stock.  We had to order the lights.  I spent another day putting the final parts and pieces together (whip, crystals, trident, etc.)  We screwed a few little $8.00 desk lights on top of the sculptures so I wouldn’t have to leave Texas with them totally in the dark.  I felt better and we snapped a few photos. 

The “Devil Woman Saloon” sculptures have been tangled up in a long road of unexpected twists and turns.  We launched the project nearly 18 months ago believing I could whip these buggers out in a few months time but I blew the deadline by one year(a first for me)  But then last year was full of challenging “firsts” and unexpected painful endings.   I have taken more-than-one deep breath, calmed down, accepted the lighting delay and returned to Montana.  The “Devil Woman Sculptures” are in place.  The proper lighting and professional photos will happen next month.  Thank goodness Brenda has such a big heart and faith in me. 

Visit my YouTube channel for project videos

COCK A DOODLE DOO!!!  The roosters clucked a cheery loud hello this morning in the moonlight when I walked to the ranch office with a cup of tea and my computer.  Yesterday they just clucked a bit and helped guide my way through the pre-dawn fog in the wet heavy darkness.  I guess the chickens appreciate moonlight and moon shadows too since they up earlier and cheerier today.  I love the moderate temperature, the dank earthy smells, and the clucking and carrying on.  Right now a covey of ducks are swimming in a big puddle right outside the office door and from the sounds of it – they are having quite the gossip session!

Ranch sounds and smells put a grin on my face and a bit of a song in my heart – a different song than home, where everything around my cabin is wild.  Nothing is cultivated (another song and reason to grin).  I didn’t grow up on a ranch or a farm but as a young child I always felt a bit of romantic longing for the lifestyle.

I like being up before anyone else.  Quiet time.  Meditation time.  Yoga and a cup of tea time.  But I must admit having barnyard feathered friends clucking and quacking away hypes up the expectation of sunrise like musicians tuning their instruments builds the pre-performance energy.  The silly little critters seem to be hell-bent on waking up a sleepy headed, blurry-eyed sun – just their clattery insistence oddly enough elicits a rather domesticated feeling of family.

So I settled in to sip tea and write when my phone rang.  Paul had just woken up, turned on the TV (something we don’t have at my home) when he noticed a show called, “Woodsculpting.”  He thought it might be of interest to me so while he waited for his coffee he settled in to watch the show and there I was!   The show was about me - a whole show – at 6 a.m. in Texas.  So I crossed the ranch yard again, roosters crowing, ducks quacking, Hobo the German Sheppard barking and a cup of tea in my hand to watch the show.  Filmed years ago for DIY – I have never actually watched the episode on TV – let alone a gigantic BIG plasma screen TV in a saloon where I had just installed a few big sculptures.

Oh yeah!  THAT!!!  The sculpture installation…!!  Yesterday was a big day.  Heavy mesquite logs-turned-into-sculptures were unloaded outside and set up inside the Devil Woman Saloon.  We used a John Deer tractor and broke a Genie Lift but luckily no injuries to people or the art occurred.  You’ll have to wait for the final pictures since today I will be putting the finishing touches on the sculptures (trident, Swarovski crystals, whip and lights):

 

 

I love the fact that Zaydee made it into the feature article written by Donna Healy of the Billings Gazette!  Many of you knew Shiva, the special dog who shared a precious chunk of my life with me.  Shiva used to always upstage me whenever photographers showed up.  A natural model and total ham for the camera, Shiva would glean the lime-light whenever it so much as glanced my direction – just look at the past articles and TV spots on my Artist Page. Zaydee is a whole other cookie.  Horribly abused before being rescued by a sweet Montana couple, Zaydee showed up in my life as a bit of a basket case.  She’s come a LONG way!!  No longer scared of her own shadow - much less the power tools in my studio – she relaxes and hangs out with me while I work.  She barks to let me know if someone is around (usually I have ear plugs in and am oblivious).  Zaydee has warmed up to the camera – or at least relaxed enough that Bob Zellar from the Billings Gazette captured this photo of her napping in the mesquite sawdust.  The whole article along with a short video can be viewed on the Billings Gazette website (yes – Zaydee is in the video too!!!) 

 

Sneak peak of a recently completed carving taken just outside the foundry where it was molded and cast into bronze. The new edition titled “Munch” features a momma and baby bunny stuffing themselves with cabbage.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I began the carving in Cody Wyoming while attending the “Women Who Design the West show.” We were asked to bring something to demonstrate…thus a new little piece began in September.  Last month I swept up the little pile of woodchips and delivered a finished carving to the foundry. 

“Munch” will be cast in an edition of 19 - which means only 19 of these cute little buggers will ever be made. Photos of the finished bronze will be posted this week.  Stay tuned...

WAHOOOOOO!!!!

Post-trip bliss had me beginning to believe that the drama in my world might be simmering down enough to have more of a balanced routine in my life. More time for friends, outdoor excursions, and the exciting conclusion of a large sculpture project done during reasonable hours at the studio…just in time for the holidays with Paul, my mom, and the kids.

Alas – the very morning this thought ambled longingly through my mind, I arrived at the studio and found a nasty eviction notice taped to the door. Long story but the short version is simply that the sweet folks who own the building have given it up in a painful hostage takeover forced by their new son-in-law. He’s an unpleasant 3-time felon thug who has not responded to our reasonable requests to rent the space for a few more months. Seems he would rather have the worn out shell-of-a-building sit vacant just as it did for four years before the three of us gals moved in. Panic. Deep breaths.  None of us want to be in a space with that kind of energy threatening us. So I’ve begun once again to pull double shifts and pop vitamin C to build up for the triple shifts it’ll take to finish the Devil Woman Saloon sculptures, pack and deliver a 5-piece large sculpture exhibition, and gather up all my studio stuff for storage. I have a week and a half. Paul will be gone to Carson City all of next week attending the funeral of his close childhood friend. Yesterday a girlfriend jumped in with lunch, did the grocery shopping for my mom, and took the girls to mom’s for cookie baking to give me more much-needed precious focused studio time. Kirston has found another space. We’re helping Stacey find something affordable. The walls are going up at my very own soon-to-be realized studio on the mountain. I’ve a zillion ideas for spending my studio-less time but right now I am in survival mode, cranking out piles of woodchips and sawdust and eating LOTS of cookies and chocolate.

Insomnia kept me stirring late these past few nights, wide-eyed and blinking at the stardust. My heart has been extra soft, gushy and pained these past two weeks as if all the sunshine in my life has illuminated the path of grief and loss. I feel more now than I did those first months after my father’s death. A friend offered some enlightenment; perhaps as I move out of pure survival mode I find myself in a place where support is strong, gifts are abundant and thus the grieving process amps up since I can process more. 

The Cosmos is right there with me, spinning an ever-perfect web. For instance, just last week Hospice held a special memorial tribute in the beautiful stained glass adorned chapel at the hospital. All those who passed away under Hospice care during the first six months of this year were acknowledged. A young pregnant musician accompanied the service with her sweet clear voice and guitar,  two ministers conducted the memorial. My mom, Paul, the kids and I took up a whole row in the tiny chapel.   Sun shone through the two story stained glass chapel wall. Stunning. A fountain splashed soothingly - a water whisper affirming life; cycles, continuity and comfort. 

Just a few moons ago I spent time alone in the chapel during my father’s brief hospital stay. After a routine doctor appointment Dad had been admitted to the hospital for tests. That evening Dad and I were told that he had fourth stage pancreatic cancer. Early the next morning I visited the chapel just after the sun came up. I completed a series of Sun Salutations (yoga) right there on the chapel floor with the soothing fountain coaching me to take deep breaths, find my center and focus on love. Here I was in that chapel again for a memorial service surrounded by my new family, sitting next to my little mother and listening to the fountain while taking deep breaths.

“You won’t manifest it unless you can visualize it,” Paul said to me several times during the past two years. He would push a blank piece of paper under my nose after breakfast or get out a pen to draw on a napkin during dinner - each time coaxing me to draw my dream studio. Deeply impressed that he actually used the words visualize and manifest (seriously…this coming from a man with work hardened calloused hands) I realized with shock that I had lost a bit of my own belief in magic. Somehow my optimism lost its polish these past few years while faced with financial challenges, major surgery, no insurance, large medical bills, a bank which seemed keen to take my home and no studio to work in. Paul’s belief in manifesting fueled my imagination. I started taking pictures of old barn buildings, sketched and talked about my dream studio.  He began to salvage wood.

A shift occurred. Tarnished tired places began to beam. Polished. My belief in the BIG picture strengthened me during my father’s sudden terminal illness and death. I grieve. I embrace blessings too numerous to count. 

Now this:

 

The Universe has stepped up and drawn aside a huge heavy stage curtain with relish and a big “TA DA!!”

 

A rather recent client bloomed instantly into a friend.  Now the beautiful bloom has sprouted into patron who hired Paul (without telling me) to build a studio for me on the mountain!!!!!

Yesterday three fellas and I delivered “Sojourn” to the Jet Center. Today I’m off to Helena with a trailer to pick up the two “Reliquary” sculptures recently exhibited in “Outside the Box.” While I don’t mind rolling across the autumn Montana landscape to Helena and I look forward to a visit with the awesome people and place the Holter Museum offers - I must admit that my studio work is engaging – thus difficult to put on the back-burner.

Tears sprung into my mother’s eyes Sunday when I returned from the Women Who Design the West show in Cody, Wyoming. Sporting my new black Stetson hat (given to me by Pam Fields the CEO of Stetson when I was inducted with nine other women into Stetson’s Craftsman Alliance) mom smiled with her voice full of emotion as she remembered my grandfather’s pride when he could afford his first Stetson hat. Mom was about 10 years old when Grandpa bought his first Stetson. He was a farmer in Nebraska who raised endless fields of wheat along with twelve children. My precious beautiful graceful and tough-as-nails grandmother was by his side for fifty-seven years (and many Stetsons).

Earlier Sunday morning, Cliff and I were busy loading the last of my art into Paul’s trailer outside the auditorium. We had to dodge a fresh pile of deer poop left by the beautiful momma (or one of her two babies) on the sidewalk. The sweet big-eared-bright-eyed family enjoyed munching at the buffet outside the auditorium (trees and grass). Once the trailer was packed and road-ready, Cliff and I gorged on the buffet at the historic Irma Hotel. I hit the road with a buzz from the special whiskey sauce poured onto my bread pudding at breakfast - an Irma specialty. We pulled out of Cody and headed toward Chief Joseph Highway; sore from moving heavy sculptures. I wore a grin.  My whiskey sauce buzz was only partly responsible for the smile - the whole event was spiked with talented women and new friends.  We rambled home in the late afternoon sun past sagebrush, mountains, small farms and autumn colors; my new Stetson hat packed away carefully in the back seat of the truck.   

Stetson photos take by XiaoLi - a talented filmmaker and Fullbright scholar.

The studio smells like fresh varnish, Chinese food and chocolate as I pull lonnnnnnnnnnng hours preparing for the Women Who Design the West show in Cody Wyoming where I will be inducted into the Stetson Craftsman Alliance along with 9 other fine gals.  Come visit the show September 23-25. 

My new Eagle America router bits cut hard wood like butter. No kidding. Slick. Smooth. Fast. Maybe “butter” is the wrong description since it implies the potential for mushy cuts but there is nothing mushy or sluggish about these precise crisp clean cutters. I cut deep. I remove LOTS of wood. I am working with raw logs not select precut prepared lumber. My current project is mesquite. Each 2000 pound log has intensely hard knots, sneaky soft spots and hidden holes - a combination of variables like little traps just waiting to muck up that perfect cut when free routing.  Dull, quick-to-dull, or easy-to-chip bits make the project of routing one inch deep in moody hardwood a potentially expensive disaster. Wrestling with low-quality bits turns the joy of working with wood into a task – much like trudging uphill on a slippery jagged slope with a ridiculously heavy pack and boots that hurt. 

Climbing mountains is one of my favorite outdoor pursuits. Running is a good way to stay in shape for my outdoor endeavors but I have never really liked running very much, especially uphill.  Jogging downhill is a welcome confidence boost. When my travels take me to sea level, I run with the theme song for “Rocky” in my head while resisting the temptation to throw up my arms and do the Rocky dance.  Do you remember the dance?  Sylvester Stalone does it at the top of the Philadelphia Art Museum steps (where I went to art school).  Eagle America recently sent me some complimentary new router bits to try and I can honestly say the theme for “Rocky” bounced in my head while the chips and sawdust piled up around me. Satisfying.

The cutest frogs live in Texas. Seriously. I know Texas has HUGE toads and such but the regular little o’l frogs that hang out on the porch at the ranch early in the morning and on the country club sidewalk at night are simply better looking than frogs I have seen in other parts of the world. The Texas frogs are even cuter than the teeny tiny Coqui frogs that sing like birds in Puerto Rico. Perfectly proportioned with round little bellies and BIG eyes, they are beautiful…well…good looking anyway. 

Anyone who has visited my little cabin at the end of a road near the top of a mountain in Montana knows that I have a thing for frogs (and birds, and bunnies). I collect the little critters. They have also hopped into my paintings and even my favorite bronze piece (cast from a wood carving) features a frog. The frogs in Texas would make perfect models for future art projects.    You’ll see…

Back in the studio making a mess with power tools and chisels has me feeling more like myself than I have felt in a good long while. I can hardly stand to take a day off since “work” entices. My paws are sore (out of shape) but it is SUCH a good feeling!!!

I guess the sawdust will get to settle a bit since early in the morning I have a plane to catch. Texas is my destination.  My "studio" for the next few days will be in the warehouse next to the chicken yard at Chaco Ranch.  I have a commission to complete. 

Listening to the roosters’ crow, the hens cackle and the ducks quack - all that "carrying on" is my favorite part of working at the “studio” on the Texas ranch (well…that AND the air conditioning!)

Misty morning in Texas on the Charco Ranch - I’ve a bit of a headache (the margaritas last night or simply dehydration from the intense humidity?) Hobo spent the night with me in the cushy air conditioned guest room which is part of the “Devil Woman Saloon.” He has flees, scars, and a limp but is the sweetest German Shepard I’ve ever met. Roosters are crowing and chickens are cackling while the ducks swim in kiddie pools outside the office here. I haven’t much time to write since the special paint I ordered is due to arrive from San Antonio on the bus in a few minutes and I’ve work to do on an old buggy bought from the Amish a few days ago. Texas is HOT. Humid. I’m melting but inspired by the early morning mist, the late night frogs, the heartfelt hospitality and a new project.

Phew!  After months (and months) of delay, Paul and I wrestled with the mesquite logs last week.  He worked out a few kinks in the custom wench/hoist we built at the studio so that I can lift each thousand-pound half-log.  I admit they still make me nervous when trying to jostle the heavy buggers around.  My work consisted mostly of looking.  Yes.  Just looking.  Thinking.  Feeling. 

I drew lines.  Paul made cuts with a rented beam saw.

The logs are beautiful;  they command the space with their presence.  I have more looking, sketching, and feeling to do.  BUT soon plenty of mesquite sawdust will be flying… 

Should have taken some pictures (or video) yesterday while toting a trailer full of large sculptures wrapped in a tarp looking like an 800 pound burrito to the Holter Museum in Helena. Mom rode along with Zaydee and I across the rolling green wheat fields past muddled looking Canyon Ferry Lake (engorged with rainwater and spring runoff). We munched on fresh croissant sandwiches from Wheat Montana bakery and enjoyed the sunshine while we kept a close watch on a classic Montana blue sky. Small dark bruised clouds hung on the distant horizon – a clue of the fitful late afternoon thunderstorms which would accompany us home. 

What a treat the show “Out of the Box” is going to be!!! More than 30 internationally known wood artists’ and artisans’ meticulously crafted sculptures and furniture will be showcased in a show where everyone is pushing the boundaries of vision and craftsmanship in wood. STUNNING!!   A fat friendly cat sat on a barstool and greeted us just inside the door of the Winston Bar. We met Cliff (who had spent the day fishing the lake) for a little snack. Cliff’s policy is “catch and filet.”  He threw two bags of fish in with the packing blankets and the folded up tarp in the back of my truck before we left Winston in a rainstorm to return home. Fresh grilled rainbow trout was a treat to top off a fine day of “work.”  I love my job :)

After pulling an all nighter in the BIG tent at the festival grounds, Paul and I finished 1.5 hours before the unveiling - just enough time to grab a shower before meeting the press. We “wowed ‘em.”  Felt good! Blurry-eyed, plumb tuckered, and in desperate need of a nature fix, we left the festival grounds for a short walk to the lake. Passing a nail salon on the way; we stumbled into the air conditioned space. Paul passed out in a chair while a cute little oriental girl worked at getting the chocolate, paint, and silicone from my battered hands. We wandered along the lake in a daze, plopped our weary bodies onto the grass, and looked up at blue sky through shimmering green leaves of a giant tree. White blooms danced and Eddie Brickel sang from the speakers which surrounded the lake in the town park. I admired my silver sparkle fingernails, felt deeply thankful for Paul’s help and support, and thought about the tears which glistened in the plant manager’s eyes at the unveiling as he thanked me for our passionate effort during a difficult time. I felt blessed. Relieved. Thankful. Paul and I returned to our hotel, pulled the shades, turned the air conditioning onto full blast and fell asleep at 6:30. Unaccustomed to sleeping more than a few hours at a time during the last few weeks; I woke three hours later and decided to attend the Chocolate and Wine Indulgence event at the festival. A full moon nudged its way through heavy low clouds determined to outshine the bright garish carnival lights of the festival. My father and mother fill my thoughts. Dad's nauseous body has rejected any attempts at eating for the last four days. Mom sounds a bit lost. I want to go home. 

(photos and video will be posted soon...)

Emerged in Willy Wonka Land...my eyelids and heart are heavy. We are racing the clock to the big unveiling on Friday. Punched with gaping grief, my chest hurts when I step back from the crazy world of chocolate, candy, and creation. Worry is wrapped around a difficult unexpected chapter in my parent’s life. Dad is hanging in there. He gets around with his walker - sleeps more and eats less each day.    Most hours in my Nestle-world are filled with scheming and problem-solving - fueled with nibbles of chocolate, sips of water, and deep breaths. My hands are tired and sore. Phone calls with family and Hospice nurses punctuate long hours of vivid thoughts, creative ideas, and lots of crazy yummy chocolate creating.     Wildberry nerds look like turquoise...a lovely accent for the Wizard of Oz-themed chocolate sculpture.

Phew!  I feel better.  I wish I had photos of rock climbing or mountain biking to share but I spent the glorious sunny spring weekend at home with the flu.  I’ve a “nap crack” in the corner of my mouth from sleeping (and drooling?)  egads!

Vivid dreams:  Beautiful glass art sculptures, a scary tippy moving toilet, a late night dinner date without any of my own clothes to wear.  I love seeing art in my dreams!  Art dreams are like a day at the spa for my mind -invigorating, relaxing, empowering, pampering, and revealing. 

I wake refreshed and eager.  The artworks have not been mine but they have been a beautiful inspiring blend of various materials – always 3-dimensional.

The sky is blue, the sun is shining - the morning beckons with a list of tasks: must finalize my contract with Nestle, package and ship art (sold 10 Works on Paper last week!), purchase airline tickets for the chocolate sculpture project, talk to my web guys, touch bases with the contractor for a commission project in Texas, drop a bronze off at the Museum of the Rockies...but first…another cup of tea.

Smells like rain on this spring morning. The birds are chirping outside eagerly – as if they want to “get their chirps in” before the storm.  Maya is purring right next to my laptop. I’m sipping tea and fighting the urge to crawl back under my cozy comforter for a nap.  I’ve zillions to do.  New artworks are being inventoried and uploaded to my website.  Patron Members just got their pre-view peek via e-mail of the new Works on Paper before they go live on the web.  I’ve a newsletter to write, drawings of a commission to do, travel plans for the ChocolateFest to make, some donated artwork to drop off, a bronze to ship, some DVDs to burn and send, a poster to design, a vlog to edit -  and that’s just my pre-noon list.  Phew! Things are ramping up in the studio!  The rest of the week will be mostly devoted to the BIG mesquite logs.  Have you seen the latest video?      

Over 10 years ago I stepped off a plane, rented a car and drove to Burlington, WI where I found myself immersed in Willy Wonka land at the Nestle Chocolate factory.  Using Swiss Made chisels, I carved over 1500 pounds of chocolate into a 14 foot totem pole for the city’s annual ChocolateFest.  Yum! Next month I will return to Nestle to create this year’s ChocolateFest creation.  I had several conference calls with chocolate engineers and watched The Wizard of Oz many times before I designed the creation. “There’s No Place Like Chocolate Land” is the theme for the festival this year .  I can’t tell you what the creation is going to be since it is traditionally kept a BIG secret until the unveiling Memorial weekend in May.  I will however…let you follow the process a bit via blog and vlog as the chips start flying.  Stay tuned…

Technorati Tags: Amber Jean,nestle,chocolatefest,chocolate creation,sculptor,burlington,montana artist

WOOD Magazine just put me in their Gallery of Woodworking Greats.

I wrote that sentence then stared at my computer wondering if it should follow with “Wow!” or “Shucks.”

I’m pleased and honored.

Their editor posted quite a few photos along with a link to the 2002 feature article “A Star Rises in the West.”

I can’t wait to share the next project with you.  Have you seen the latest little video clip about the logs I’m going to cut into this week? (Devil Woman Logs Arrive)

Stay tuned… 

“The logs lie and wait.  My fingers itch and my mind tumbles over the possibilities.  Last week I visited the Devil Woman Saloon in Texas to get a feel for the place where the mesquite sculptures will reside once I’ve carved and completed them.  I’m excited, inspired and challenged. 

I’m also swamped. 

Never has such a long stretch kept me from creating in woodchips and sawdust.  The demons have engaged in battle, pushed me into the trenches and gained ground.  I’m struggling.  Post surgery hormone craziness has fried my nerves, unsettled my stomach, messed with my mind and clenched my heart within an iron fist of anxiety.  The Blue Funk unpacked its bags, crowded the shelves, claimed the drawers, rolled up the rugs, and pulled the shades.  I hunker in a dark corner of my mind under the unrelenting glare of the Blue Funk’s unblinking stare.   Unclothed.  Shivering.  Vulnerable.  Scared and sad.”  

I actually wrote those words in February.   

I am happy to report that the Blue Funk is no longer a resident.  Unexpectedly the Blue Funk still plops down as an unwelcome guest now and then.  I feel the funk mostly in my chest - as if I swallowed a shoe.  The bugger makes me tired.  But between the naps and the long dream-filled nights, I am getting the studio ready.  Those logs sure smell good…I hear them calling… Here’s a little peak at the Mesquite:  Devil Woman Logs Video I’ll keep ya posted!  Stay tuned. 

Ya gotta love a client who shares her beautiful Texas home with a batch of exotic affectionate colorful and furry little characters.  My life-long affection for bunnies is proof of my inclination for big fuzzy ears.  Alas…big ears are abundant in the batch of  wee rug-rats who scamper about the walnut, granite and tile floors.

Ali is the least exotic but what a sweetheart.  A Yorkshire Terrier, she is quiet and well  behaved.  She trots like a wind up toy gone rusty in her hind quarters…a bit stocky like a miniature female German wrestler she’s well fed, sweet and unassuming.

 

 

 

Jack and Sassy are Cornish Rex Cats - long and sleek regal siblings.  Their prominent foreheads and giant ears look Egyptian.   Softer than my grandmother’s old fur coat, their short curly fur resembles grandma’s soft o’l coat  with tight little waves.  Jack has a Groucho Marx mustache and his sister is a patchwork of white, black and tan.  All eyes and ears, they look even more aloof than most cats but are surprisingly affectionate.  Sassy parked herself on my lap the whole time I sat at my computer.

Cami is the newest addition.  No bigger than a guinea pig, she makes up for her diminutive size with spunk.  A tri-colored long-haired Chi Wawa who instantly squirmed her cute little bug-eyed soul right into my arms (er…hand) and wrapped around my heart.   I am infatuated with her.  I could zip her up in my hoodie with her big ears and little tongue hanging out  and take her home with me.

My client also has a beautiful big German Sheppard named Hobo whom she rescued.  Scars and a limp are testament of his pre-adoption vagabond days.  He watches over the ranch but hangs out with the wee little gang at the home now and then.  Hobo is smart, mellow and loyal (he also has big ears) and is a handsome bugger.

We rescued a pale oriental looking mix-breed dog while I was visiting.  The lost or abandoned dog was bright and friendly.  I just can’t imagine the kind of person who could dump a dog but am glad to be working with a big-hearted client who shares my love for furry critters and big ears.  Stay tuned for updates on the art part of the Devil Woman Saloon project.

Insecurity is itchy like a pair of cold clammy wool socks; it  poked my mind and stuck like a wadded lump in my throat.  The doubts stemmed from my new venture writing, blogging, vlogging and networking via the internet.  I love writing and sharing bits from my life.  People have responded by being inspired in their lives which makes me feel thankful for the many ways the world from my mountaintop can be shared.  I believe it is the right thing to do.  Writing and vlogging push my comfort zone.   Stretching my boundaries is important to my creative soul and simply the way I live my life.  Sharing is what artists do.  The internet encourages community.  But it takes time to write, to film, to edit, and to keep in touch. When the purse strings are tight I feel pressured to shove my passions into a drawer and focus on money-making.  Thus I found myself one morning last month doubting my efforts to explore art in various venues and connect with more people via the internet.  Then a little miracle happened: The itchy wool sock insecure doubts turned into silky warm stockings and left me with the goofy desire to Snoopy dance after I opened my e-mail.  One of my Patron Place Members sent a monetary gift via PayPal with this note attached: “This is a small token of my appreciation for the inspiration that you provide every time you share snippets of your beautiful soul-filled, unguarded life, your art, and your optimism.” Squashed.  The doubt and insecurity poking at me from the inside out were vindicated.  The Cosmos smiled a crooked little half grin AND nodded it’s head. 

The logs for the Devil Woman Saloon commission arrived on Friday.  The weather was fine for unloading…a good thing since it took a few hours, three men and a Terex to wrestle the 1000 pound logs into my temporary studio space.  Sure is some pretty (and pretty heavy) wood!  Phew!

Josh from Mesquite Burl shipped the logs yesterday.  The project for the Devil Woman Saloon is back on track! 

The video above shows the beautiful logs which arrived from Mexico only to be sent back when I discovered they were not what I ordered for this commissioned project.  I actually found Mesquite Burl before I ordered the other logs and would you believe the folks at Mesquite Burl knew who I was before I called them?  I forgot how Josh came across my work but I am sure glad I discovered Mesquite Burl.  They didn’t have HUGE mesquite when I first inquired, thus the beginning of the fiasco with the logs from Mexico. 

Josh has been great to work with!!  He found a rather rare load of BIG mesquite logs and sent pictures.  I had a tough time deciding which beauties to buy.  Josh also sawed the logs in half for me and kiln dried them to kill the bugs.   Poor logs will have a bit of a shock weather-wise don’t you think?  Can’t wait to see the logs and get my paws on ‘em to let the sculpture creating begin! 

Synchronicity is like a wink and a grin from the Universe.  I love it!  When coincidence calls I am reminded of the BIG picture.  Feelings of being connected wrap my heart with hope and lift my soul with wonder.  While checking in at my computer this morning, “shadow” crossed my screen 3 times.  First there was the “Body Shadows” post and video on the Creative Everyday Blog.  Then I glanced at an article in “Livingston Our Town” while heating up a cup of tea and learned about Montana Shadow Maker’s ranch and charity work with miniature horses so I decided to visit their channel on YouTube.  The final shadow word was connected to an indigenous singer’s name as she chanted about winter - pretty fitting for a winter wonderland morning with a foot of fresh snow and temps below zero.

Years ago when I spent my summer alone in the backcountry of Montana as a Wilderness Ranger, my shadow was a constant companion.  Weeks went by without so much as a glance in a mirror but I do remember being shocked by my shadow once when I dropped my pack and climbed a ridge to a glacier mountain lake.  My shadow stretched before me – long , lean and exceptionally feminine.  Shocked me.  I guess shouldering a 70 pound pack and handling trail tools while traipsing around grizzly bear country had me feeling BIGGER, tougher,  and more manly than that shadow suggested.  Stopped me in my tracks.  I’m sure Momma Nature was playing a few tricks with the length and proportions but there was a girlie shadow right there on the ridge stuck to my shoes.  The lake was pristine.  Deep clear…inviting…and super cold.  I dropped my clothes and jumped in for for the refreshing jolt of a melted mountain snow cleanse.  Afterwards as I lay on a rock soaking the heat into my goose-bumpy flesh like a lizard in the sun, I remember looking at the mosquito bitten tan parts (and the not-at-all-tan parts) of myself wondering if they actually matched the strange girlie shadow. 

I wasn’t convinced. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Morning dawned white with snowfall. Treetops fade toward blank frozen sky. Maya finally settled down after a serious case of cabin fever, she hates cold weather. Zaydee is covered in wet dirt from futile hours spent digging after little bunnies hunkered in hiding places under my cabin. I feel like losing the day to a good book, warm food, and Baileys. Sounds uninspired but actually I am brewing like a slow batch of cider on the stove top. Feelings and images rollover each other inside my head like cozy kittens. I’m torn between the desire to reach in and pluck one protesting little mewing kitten from the bunch to see just where the feisty critter takes me…or…letting the little nuzzled together squirmy buggers nurse awhile longer. The ideas are tangled together in a warm slurping mass of possibility. Maybe they need to fill their tummies and nap a good while before I break up the bunch and get to work. I can hardly wait.

Earlier this morning I walked outside to my truck in the driveway. The crisp cold, the low light, the long shadows, the tall yellow grass and the instant cold nose created a flash-back; shiny new lunchbox, brand new backpack waiting for the bus with some excitement and a bit of purpose.  I love this time of year.

(First Grade…can you guess which one is me?)

I’ve zillions to do but snow is in the future  forecast so I get up before sunrise and work, then play, then work. Sunset is early. Climbed in the hot afternoon sun last Wednesday then stripped to my undies and jumped into the cold Yellowstone River with a girlfriend. I hiked to the Fountain of Youth late Thursday afternoon, sat in the thick soft moss, drank from the spring, and returned to civilization for a giant fishbowl-sized margarita at a local haunt (didn’t get any work done after that). After a meeting in Bozeman Friday, I mountain biked in the Bridger Mountain Range with a girlfriend and two happy stray dogs, grabbed a quick shower in town, joined girlfriends and be-bopped about Livingston in a miniskirt and flip flops for the last art walk of the season.  My town looks like a movie set.  Afterwards we made dinner and played cards (um…ok…I didn’t get any more work done that night either). After a sleepless night I climbed Alex Lowe Peak Saturday (14 miles and over a mile in elevation gain…spectacular!)

Yesterday two batches of visitors bounced up the mountain to visit. Each group included an interesting new person…one from LA and the other from Hungary. I worked in the early hours and even sold five original Works on Paper, not bad for a  lazy sunny Sunday. I received photos of the mesquite logs via e-mail yesterday…the first I’ve seen the buggers…just a day or two before they arrive. Keep your fingers crossed…the logs were supposed to be here four weeks ago but the Universe had other plans. The “big” picture proved the delay a gift (or perhaps it is simply my attitude which makes it appear that way). I feel like I did decades ago waiting for the school bus; a bit of purpose… crisp cold air outside…warm excited glow inside.

Deeply touched by the image of another artist’s work this morning…the timing could not have been keener with events, thoughts, and emotions in my life today. Even some of the imagery she used resonated with imagery from my own work.     A piece from my past:   The fountain “Grandma Smells Like Roses" was one of five sculptures in my first public gallery show after graduating from college. I put rosewater in the fountain; the whole gallery smelled like roses. The blue birds are glass knick knacks like the ones which caught the sunlight on the windowsill above the sink in grandma's kitchen. My mom had rose wallpaper in her bathroom, roses on her fine china, and the most elegant gown she ever wore was floor-length, white, and embellished with two beautiful red roses which climbed from the hem to her torso in embroidered silk. I created the sculpture well over a decade ago.  The fountain traveled to Nebraska for my grandmother's funeral a few years ago.  Small roses adorned the metalwork on her casket. The rhythmic soft splash of water pouring from the “Grandma Smells Like Roses” fountain added subtle life and melody to the standard mortuary silence. The glass sculpture I saw today ties in with imagery and feelings woven intricately between past memories and current events. If I were ever to get a tattoo it would be a delicate rose as an expression of the ultra feminine lineage I share with my mother and her mother.   View "Grandma Smells Like Roses" on my site  

Wrapped in a soft blanket, wearing fingerless gloves, hat and scarf…my laptop looks rather uppity here on the old grey weathered picnic table which sits on a matching grey weathered deck. Birds chirp while a train mutters in the FAR distance (amazing how sound travels). The crisp air skips about my nose, numbs my toes, and cools the hot tea too quickly. Surrounded by tall golden feathery topped mountain grass, I wait for a languid sun which teases from beyond the long shadow in which I sit. White snow-capped peaks nearly blend with the pale blue sky across the valley. (I just knew that was snow I smelled in the air after sunset last night!) Wish I had a bit of Bailey’s for my tea, but considering that this is a chain-cup tea morning, perhaps it’s just as well I don’t. I’ve quite a bit of the business part of art life to tend too, a cabin to spiff up for the dinner party tonight, a desert to make and a trail to run. Have you guessed or have I mentioned how much I LOVE being outside this time of year?! Perhaps the outdoor crispy-cold-air-laptop-typing could be considered training for ice climbing season…certainly have sluggish reddened fingers.     The computer/internet parts of business have been integral for maintaining my lifestyle here at the end of a road near the top of a mountain in Montana. What a blessing. The first computer at my cabin was a gift from my uncle. He visited Montana once and insisted on seeing the rustic place where he heard I lived. Cliff (my mountain man logger neighbor and dear friend) chained up his orange flatbed truck (duct tape on the taillights). My uncle held on to the dashboard and hit his head on the cab ceiling more than once while we four-wheeled up the narrow rocky switchbacks to the really rustic cabin on top of the mountain where I lived at the time. I had spent the winter hiking up the steep road to the cabin (and sledding down it). I would never have guessed a truck could make it up there and believe it is the only time we tried. The cabin is literally cabled to the rocky top to keep it from blowing down the mountain. My current humble cabin home looks like a Persian palace in comparison to that plywood shack. No exaggeration.     “Call me when you get power,” my uncle said before he returned to his home in Chicago. A few years later I called him; eventually I got through his personal assistant and told my uncle I had managed to get power. He asked pointed questions about my business as an artist. Then a few days later some huge boxes arrived at the post office, were loaded in my truck, bounced up the mountain, unloaded and unpacked; a computer, a scanner, and a printer complete with numbered stickers to show me which cords and where to plug them in. Many thanks to a generous uncle with foresight, I was connected.     The “office” was a corner of my living room space. I didn’t have running water but I finally had a phone complete with an internet phone connection. Alas my business as an artist felt official…the world was more accessible…and my learning curve broadened. A “how to” book helped me create a website in a weekend.  Within a month I had my first internet customer; a bride commissioned me to carve a humidor as a wedding present for her groom. I would have photographed the piece if I had a camera.     Social media has opened the door to a whole new learning curve and level of connection for this mountain top “hermit” artist. One morning a little over a week ago I edited my first video, shot with my little digital camera on Black Mountain and posted it on my own channel on YouTube. I’ve a zillion video ideas and plenty to share. Visit the channel, subscribe (it’s free), rate my videos, write comments. Facebook and Twitter are enhancing my ability to connect with you. Right now I’ve got to take my cold sniffling nose and frozen fingers inside. Did I say “brrrrrrr?!”  

My big o’l 2000 pound logs are sitting on a truck in Texas. While my chisels lie sharpened and waiting for the lovely mesquite in their near future, I myself haven’t let any dust settle. Thanks to Paul’s foresight and ambition, two large trailer loads of free logs have arrived on my mountain and will someday be part of The Studio. We unloaded and selectively piled ‘em up near the tractor-powered sawmill while he explained which ones are going to be beams and which ones trusses. Feels good to gather materials and begin to manifest a studio…it’s been MUCH too long!! Hard to believe I’ve been studio-less for a number of years. Luckily, site-specific commissions kept my business as an artist rolling (a bit bumpily) along. The small works on paper don’t require much space to produce (thankfully Cliff patiently lent me the use of his dining room) but it is really…really…REALLY time for this gal to have a “room of her own” again. I even had my own studio space in high school while a student…complete with a key to access it on weekends (yes…I was obsessed with creating back then too!) I never imagined myself without a studio…so a few years ago when I found myself suddenly studio-less I panicked. My identity and my livelihood had sprung from within studio walls for much of my life. Just who was I without a studio? Like a traveler who’s suddenly lost their luggage and their bearings, I took a deep breath and embraced the question, the unknown, and the adventure. Freedom comes from letting go…new possibilities arise…demons lurk…emotions swell and swirl…exploration intensifies.

Life gave me an unexpected sabbatical…time to adventure both within and without. I had just discovered climbing and found strong similarities between the world of rock, ice, mountains and studio life. The urge to create pushed me past excuses into uncomfortable places. Growth.

Alas, growth is rarely pain-free. I just re-read the words above and feel compelled to confess; I cried. I wailed. I sobbed. I whimpered…more than once. I cursed the Universe. I curled up in a ball. I gnashed my teeth (at night…in my sleep). Do you know what it is like to have a head full of ideas like monkeys all screeching for attention? Did you see the words “demons lurk” snuck in-between the positive rambling toward the end of the paragraph above? Stripped of a studio, I was (and am) at times totally discombobulated. Lost. I am not all grace and graciousness. Yes…I explore. I seek adventure. But I can be a klutz and I certainly am not without fear. I did take a deep breath each time. I plucked myself from despair.  I donned a pair of tinted sunglasses to hide my puffy eyes and to cast a rose-colored glow on a seemingly hostile studio-less world so that could gather my gumption and move on. Am I better for it? Sure. (?)

BUT I am more-than-ready to return to studio life. I have yet to commit to a temporary space for the mesquite sculpture project…a short stop on the journey home. My guess is that another temp studio or two are in my future before I get to move into a “room of my own.” I will be lugging new suitcases filled past capacity with riches gathered during an unplanned journey. Maybe I increased the girth of a few muscles. I definitely have a few more scratches and scars…a deeper appreciation…a zillion ideas…a deepened thirst…and some new skills.

My current client has company. Since my commission is taking place just outside his front door, and since I make plenty of sawdust and lots of noise, I have been given a “recess” of a few days. Sweet. Honestly, I’ve grown weary of the task. The creativity part was accomplished during the first few hours while designing more than a month ago. Once I resolved the carving issues, figured my way toward color choices, and put the final glaze coat on the first two posts…the mystery was solved. Two embellished entry porch posts…perfect for the place and space…finished. I hadn’t messed up. My client was pleased. What finally became obvious to him (and what I knew all along) is that the other two posts would also have to be carved. So I am working on them. “Lesser” versions of the central posts (so as not to compete…I want the “climax” and action to build near the doorway while the outside posts quietly hold court like the wedding party to the bride and groom). The commission at this point is mostly pure physical labor. The challenges are boredom, physical fatigue (my poor hands), and Momma Nature. Wind is the most menacing element followed closely by sweltering heat. Rain is not a problem since I get to quit when it rains and certainly won’t argue with lightning. Wind can make me weary; especially since it blows every which way, dusting my eyes and filling my nose with sawdust. A few blood vessels broke in one eye two weeks ago and gave me a possessed look; devil-ish or prize-fighter-ish. I still have a big red spot in that eye. So I am suppose to return to carve on Wednesday but I see that the weather forecast for Wednesday is thunderstorms which actually makes me happy because I would rather be home writing than up Tom Miner carving. Each day I find many things to share. Thoughts flutter and flit with wings so appealing and magical that I want to stop whatever I am doing and explore with words the spark, iridescence, depth, and endless color intricately woven on their surface. I don’t want to just squeak out little accounts of big adventures. Actually, my weekend was rather tame since it lacked adventure of the outdoor kind. No huffing and puffing, no summits or rock or rivers. Yet…the weekend was rich and full. If each idea which popped up in my mind over the weekend to write about was a little lightning bug…then my head would be glowing like the moon…bright enough to cast shadows. I find myself looking back at the last few days as though I just opened a box of decadent chocolates. I want to take a bite from each treat…reveal the mysterious sweet center…and share them with you. I need to write more. Create more. Adventure more. Alas, I must make money. I need to make money now because I haven’t any excess. I haven’t even enough to pay the bills on my desk. The box of yummy chocolates must wait to be opened and shared. The beautiful butterfly thoughts tease, tempt, and tantalize. Worse…they urge me with earnestness born from an awareness of how delicate and fleeting their lives are. The lightening bugs flash, glitter and glow. I must quickly capture them but when do I find the time? The outdoor commission work makes me tired…the kind of wrung out tired that comes when work is uninspiring. Therein lay a key difference between survival work and inspired work. Inspired work is akin to climbing a mountain for an adventurer like me… while the activity may be physically exhausting, the passion infuses. A post-summit-high stirs the soul to Snoopy Dance even if the feet themselves are blistered and worn out. Creativity and passion put a skip in my step and a twist on the path that is living. I cherish the dream to create full time…to sculpt, paint, write, perform and adventure. Wednesday is a coin-flip decided by Momma Nature. Make money or paint with words?

So many possibilities!! I hadn’t known ‘til yesterday afternoon that I wouldn’t be working on the commission up Tom Miner Basin…an unexpected day off since my client has guests today. The morning has been crisp and cool. The hip-high thistles no longer have Dr Seuss-size blooms. Tall tiny white wildflowers along with some pink and purple blooms dot the yard but we are long past the Monet look of spring, tipping instead toward the dry arid colors of cliché western paintings. The tall grass scratches rather than caresses when hiking in shorts this time of year. The wild raspberries are ripe and scrumptious on the mountain. Usually I see more bear sign while picking and gorging on the juicy red berries. Breakfast was a home-made banana split with non-dairy ice cream, a banana, raisons, peanuts, almonds, wild rasberries and chocolate syrup. I’m on my 3rd cup of tea wearing sweats and a hoody and still I have Goosebumps ‘tho it is well past mid-morning and it is AUGUST. I live a thousand feet above the valley, which means the temps are usually double digits cooler than the folks below (it also means the snow is deeper and the stars are closer). A humming bird just came by for a late breakfast (or an early lunch). The chimes ring and ting-a-ling in the breeze, the grasshoppers chirp, the birds tweet…all is well on the mountain. I suppose I should go for a trail run, the weather is perfect for a mountain bike ride; a friend has phoned to climb. But I’ve some catching up to do in the desk part of business life, an appointment with an acupuncturist and a headache behind my right eye where two blood vessels recently burst. Then too, there is an application to fill out which involves writing about myself and my art...an exercise which feels like just that…an exercise. None too compelling and about as enticing as pull-ups or crunches but something which usually makes me feel good once I’ve finished. My goal is to finish soon enough to take Zaydee for a quick hike up the mountain before going to town.

 

A red-tailed hawk has been scrutinizing my work on an outdoor commission up Tom Miner Basin. Early mornings are cool enough to wear a fleece coat. Noon arrives and I’m usually in shorts and a tank, swatting flies and creating wood chips and sawdust.

Zaydee jumped in the Yellowstone for a swim after a post-sunrise climb on cliffs above the river. Three pelicans flew in formation downriver as I traveled up the valley at 9 a.m. to begin the staining stage of the carving commission up Tom Miner Basin. Love working with wood after touching rock. Mmmm...the fresh rainbow trout dinner was pretty good too!

I’ve a fresh Snoopy band aid on my finger…lost a bit of flesh yesterday stumbling with a grinder in my hand…THEN I discovered that Shawn had disabled the safety switch with hot glue. Bugger.

Tail end of the nasty cold still has me feeling almost too tired to see this computer screen.

Today I launched into a new commission…on site…at a home up Tom Miner Basin. Lucky me to enjoy perfect weather for working outside on front entryway posts. Shade until early afternoon then a little tease of a breeze helped a bit with the hot afternoon sun. I must try to remember to take pictures…but honestly once I start working I can scarce remember such a thing as picking up my camera.

Sunday June 21

A cold-bone, sore-throat and headache-y bug has me and the sun just came out…! I’ve zillions to do before beginning a few commissioned carvings up Tom Miner Basin but just want to curl up and nap. Who gets a cold in the summer time? Chastised myself for overdoing it…am I getting too old for early mornings at my desk, followed by long physical days working, plus climbing and biking while averaging about five hours sleep?! Mmmmm…. But no! I just found out that everyone at the camp on the Grizzly Creek Ranch is sick. The camp was established to offer underprivileged youth a chance for an outdoor wilderness and leadership experience. http://myeconnect.org/ Pretty neat. The days spent up Tom Miner Basin have felt good...just simple outdoor physical labor for 10 hours a day rain or shine scours rusty spots from the soul. Hauling hay, catching horses, welding steel patches on cattle guards, and pruning trees in a Scotch Bright world complete with big-kneed animal babies and dramatic Montana skies. Good stuff. A new collector visited over the weekend to discuss a commission for her Texas saloon. Loved her idea inspired by the Reliquaries. She walked away with 10 original works on paper and a belly full of fried food. No…I didn’t actually fry food myself but took her to this yummy little fried food stand in town where they served us seafood, sweet potato fries, and okra. We licked powdered sugar from our fingers while we ate the yummy fried Oreos… sugar lips and grins.

Juggling a job and my own art/business/writing world has thrown me into overdrive. Ten hour days working in the world of construction sandwiched between my own creative and business life has given me a butt-kicking. I am not complaining. Honestly I believe my butt needed a bit of the “boot.” One thing I realize is how much I miss physical labor and how much I simply must work with my hands. I have been studio-less for too many years. No matter my financial circumstances, I must clear a path and find a place for sculpture making.
The first few days on the job made me down right grumpy. I have not worked for someone in that capacity for a decade and a half. The project is a remodel of a poorly built house. I have a thing about how things are constructed; very little patience and no respect for cheap materials and bad construction. The bad mood was replaced with cheery gratitude for a job and the simple satisfaction of working with my hands.
I scrambled to put in 15 hours on a grant application last week. The online application was uploaded 14 minutes before the midnight deadline on May 1st.
phew!
I am thankful for a chance to earn some much needed cash. Still, I long to be playfully painting the small works on paper again….
Soon.

Trees loom large, heavy laden with heavy wet white spring snow cloaks. Snow ghosts in the mist this morning. Burdon. Beauty. Mystery.

Six inches of fresh snow yesterday, actually was a blessing that kept me productive indoors. So much to do since I’ve a “normal” job for two weeks as a carpenter’s assistant. Eight hour days, one-hour commute each way…so that the art part/business part is early morning, late night, and…Sunday (punctuated with a much needed cozy nap with my cat in the late afternoon).

People packed into Elle’s Belles for “Birds, Bunnies, and Chainsaws.” Chairs were borrowed last minute from the bar next door and still the people kept coming. I was blown away…and thrilled to have a room-full and receptive audience. Still feel both plumb tuckered and energized at the same time from the performance, much like the mix I feel after a productive studio day or a climbing day. Different kind of tired…and maybe a subtle different kind of energized, but all good. Really good.

April 2, 2009

Warm fuzzies linger from the gracious audience at last night’s performance. Honestly I feel a bit awe-stuck from the beauty and intensity of an instant connection…the feedback…laughing… gasps…tears…and warm community. Definitely is a departure from the “hermitude” of studio life. Emboldened from previous performances, I continue to experiment and grow. Last night was no exception…yet…exceptional given the audience and the carefully woven colorful and meaningful elixir shared.

I am inspired to do more.

March 18, 2009

Slept about two hours last night before the emotional goblins got rowdy…sometimes I just can’t quiet them down. I tended to them like a cranky barmaid. Tried not to listen to their bar brawl loud-mouth shenanigans. I was stuck relentlessly behind the bar putting in a shift that ended only as the sun came up. My weary body feels sick-to-the-stomach with sleeplessness. I missed Tara’s funeral. A spring snow storm dumped six inches of snow just the perfect consistency to get stuck in. Stuck I was, wearing a short black skirt, digging and swearing in my own driveway. My neighbor Cliff got stuck trying to get me unstuck and swore much louder. We had to borrow a skid steer to get our vehicles out. I haven’t been stuck for years…wonder why I had to get stuck then…fought a few tears and then let it go. Who can argue with such things? Being stuck in snow is a blessing compared to being in an accident. Somehow I was not meant to go. One just has to trust the big picture. I wanted to be emotionally together for my lecture at the Danforth Gallery last night so maybe there was a little blessing in being stuck.But I missed the memorial. I missed the connection with her family and our friends…missed being around others who feel the loss and the void…missed her brothers’ heart wrenching words, the photos, the stories, the catharsis. I hear it was beautiful and sad; emotionally exhausting. I wanted to be there. The night was long. I was stuck in a frustrating shift of sleeplessness, caught in the glare of hustling thoughts and emotions. The goblins clamored for attention. Crowding me, they leaned over the well worn bar…shouted above the din and the smoke and the scum of dark places.

2/14/09

 

I pulled on some silky long johns, blue jeans, and thick socks as the sun rose. Truck gage said nine degrees above zero. Sipping tea, I drove along the Yellowstone River up Paradise Valley in fresh untainted early morning light to Tom Miner Basin. Zaydee and I saw wild sheep along the dirt road. Domestic sheep with playful little lambs kicked around like jumping beans in the corral on the ranch near the river. Snow sparkled; the river flowed between frozen chunks, the jagged Sawtooth Mountains pierced the blue sky horizon. The ragged ridgeline just this side of Yellowstone Park is just the kind of jagged that makes me itch to climb but today was about cows and dogs. Vern greeted me with his classic grin, the kind of boyish up-to-no-good mischievous glinting grin exceptionally suitable for good natured cowboys. We headed out to round up the cows so we could switch their tags. He’s been training three Border Collies since June. Have you ever seen a good cow dog work? Truly a sight…pure joy, plenty of smarts and subtleness…the impressive connection between dog and owner…dog and cows. Luke, a beautiful trim classic tri-colored Border Collie, rounded the cows up and herded them into a pen. He responded well to commands from Vern. No barking, just keen management through movement. No panic, rather Vern would tell Luke to "lie down" periodically and then "walk up” behind the cows and keep them moving at a slow controlled pace. Duce, broad-shouldered with red, brown and white markings, worked the cows once they were in the pens, moving them from one pen down a chute to another.If you can get past the poopy butts and slinging snot, cows have a quirky calm beauty to their eyes framed by long lashes. Big ears, soft furry foreheads, plump bellies, angular little asses…cows have the ability not to look too far into the distance. The cows we worked today are one year olds, so they are still kind of cute. Our job was to switch out their little calf tags for big cow tags. Just like children on the first day of school sporting new clothes too big, the cows’ tags were over-sized, flopping from fuzzy ears. “They’ll grow into them,” Vern said with a chuckle.We got worked a bit while trying to get them into the trailer. The chute would have made it easier but it was full of snow. We chained the truck up before Vern backed the trailer up the hill to the pen. Vern is gentle but firm…not a proponent of chaos and shouting. I like the way he thinks and appreciate his ability to try different things until finding what works for that particular moment…those particular cows. They are learning, always learning…young cows…bright eager dogs…light-hearted cowhand, in a graceful and klutzy dance full of poop and sunshine. Earlier in the day while riding in the truck, Vern dished some lessons learned when dealing with women. He said the easiest way to deal with a woman is to admit a mistake when something wasn’t working. “Don’t take it personally and simply try something else. Too many men take it personally,” he said.I wonder. But I can say working in the studio is similar to Vern’s approach on the ranch. Studio life is a constant graceful and klutzy dance where humbleness, fortitude, invention and the willingness to try new things allow an environment where one continues to learn and grow…trying not to take things personally yet opening up all of my person to the process. I wonder how things would go if I had a couple of smart working stock dogs to help herd my ideas and a firm gentle wise cowhand to keep things clipping along.