Glaciated Mt Baker

We arrived at base camp in the mist — the night of a full moon eclipse. The world felt hushed and holy.

Before dawn we geared up, roped in, and began the slow, steady climb. Crevasses opened around us — luminous layers of blue and white, breathtakingly deep. Steam rose from the crater’s edge — the living pulse of the mountain.

We stood on the summit — small, human, grateful. Endless peaks stretched across a sea of clouds, beckoning with quiet invitation.

Memories carved in ice and light.
Our friendship woven stronger in the sacred rhythm of challenge and grace.

View more images on a short 20 second reel here

Saying Yes to Mt. Baker

While at Sculpture in the Park, a dear girlfriend asked if I’d join her for an expedition on Mt. Baker. I said yes — without even looking up where the mountain was or what I was getting myself into.

Livingston Peak with Tala

Years ago, I’d followed a boyfriend in a whiteout up Mt. Rainier, blissfully unaware of what glaciated mountains really meant. Mt. Baker, as it turns out, has less elevation than Crazy Peak (which Raymond and I had just summited before the show) — but it starts 5,000 feet lower.

The guiding company recommended six months of training.
I had three weeks.

So, I traded studio time for trail time — stuffing a pack with 30 pounds and hiking daily with Tala up our mountain, summiting three local peaks to prepare.

Summers are short in the Rockies, and guiltlessly “training” was the perfect excuse to be outside — to swap bronze dust for wild air, deadlines for ridgelines, and to remember how saying yes can lead to the most extraordinary adventures.

Grounded in Stone and Sky

After the whirlwind of Sculpture in the Park, the feel of granite beneath my hands and sun on my face grounds me.

There’s something about trading the hum of crowds for the steady pulse of stone. My friend and I climbed high into the quiet, our laughter echoing across the canyon walls.

Up there, surrounded by silence and sky, I could feel my creative rhythm returning — each breath a reminder that inspiration doesn’t only come from doing, but from being.

With paws on rock and heart wide open, this too is part of my art — the grounding, the breathing, the becoming.

Cold Mountain Medicine

There’s something sacred about slipping into a cold mountain lake — that breathless moment when water meets skin and everything else falls away.

Each plunge feels like prayer, a return to presence — to trust, surrender, and belonging in something vast and wild and kind.

It’s the same current I feel when I create — that edge between resistance and release, when the mind lets go and Spirit moves through the hands.

Whether in water or in art, the invitation is the same:
to breathe, to soften, to listen,
and to let the mystery shape me.

Crazy Peak Magic

Raymond and I ventured deep into the Crazy Mountains — a range that never fails to live up to its name. We hiked a few hours through an epic hail and rainstorm, the trail layered in nearly four inches of hail within forty minutes. It was wild, humbling, and beautiful in its ferocity.

By dawn, the world had quieted. We woke to a sunrise so tender it felt like grace itself — light spilling gold over the still lake beside our tent.

Crazy Peak’s ridge was raw and steep, every step a dance between grit and awe. As we climbed, I thought of the young Chief Plenty Coups, who at just eleven years old spent several days and nights alone on that rocky summit during his vision quest. His courage and communion with Spirit are still felt in the stones.

We carried that reverence with us — hearts full, humbled by the mountain’s power and the stories it holds.

The mountain remembers every prayer whispered to its stones.

From Rodeo Roads to Rock Walls

Tala joined Raymond and I for a camping and climbing trip to Wyoming in the Wrangler — our jaunty little pickup camper. Once a gritty rolling rodeo locker room, it’s since retired into a sweet, clean, cozy home-on-wheels — full of character, stories, and the scent of freedom.

Love Under the Big Sky 🤍

June gifted us this tender moment — a wedding Raymond officiated beneath Montana’s wide-open heavens. He’s married more than a dozen couples now, each ceremony laced with laughter, love, and more than a touch of wild grace.

Once upon a rodeo, a bull was named “Reverend Ray Ray” after him — fitting for a man who’s spent a lifetime standing between danger and devotion, courage and tenderness.

I love how life loops its stories — how the same heart that once stepped into the dust and dirt of a rodeo arena to protect bull riders now blesses unions beneath that same big sky… and how lucky I am that he shares such a big piece of that heart with me. 🤍

Chasing Frost: Ice Climbing at The Cooke Out in Cooke City

Nestled in the rugged terrain of Montana, Cooke City is a hidden gem with a tight-knit community of just 77 residents and blissfully devoid of cell service. Last weekend, Raymond and I had the pleasure of returning to this remote enclave for the second annual ice festival, The Cooke Out, masterminded by our friend Aaron Mulkey—a stellar athlete and the driving force behind Coldfear.

The Cooke Out is not your typical festival; it's an intimate, grassroots gathering that draws ice climbing enthusiasts from across the region to celebrate their passion amidst the stunning frozen waterfalls of Cooke City. Unlike larger, more commercial festivals, The Cooke Out offers a unique, personal experience that reflects the spirit of the ice climbing community—bonding over shared challenges and the raw beauty of Montana's winter landscape.

Each ascent on the icy crags not only tests my physical limits but also sparks a surge of creativity. The majestic, frost-laden settings fuel my imagination, translating into dynamic forms and themes once I’m back in my studio. These adventures outdoors are not just escapes—they are essential to my artistic process, providing fresh inspiration that I channel into my sculptures and paintings. The seamless transition from the exhilarating heights of ice climbing to the contemplative solitude of my studio is where my creativity thrives, shaping art that echoes the wild beauty of Montana.

Memorable Easter Sunday

Raymond and I were honored to share Easter Sunday adventures on ice with legends Pat Callis and Conrad Anker. Pat is an 86 year old sprite who discovered the ice at Hyalite Canyon decades ago. He is a full time professor at MSU and inspires us all with his gumption and strength.

I highly recommend the documentary “Piton” about Pat Callis for inspiration.

Google Conrad Anker hours of articles (cover of National Geographic, TIME, Outside, etc. The stellar documentary movie Meru is one of our favorites.

Two Peaks, Two Peeps and Two Dogs...

We shared our tent with Tala and Josi, got up before dawn to summit a few peaks in the Tobacco Root Mountains. Glorious…

Season's First Summit

BEAUTIFUL and stunningly memorable summit shared with a dear friend - AND a violinist and ballerina who performed on the summit.

Carrie Krause and Genevieve Tygstad-Burke perform on top of Blackmore Peak (see article here)

Jungle juice

I danced deep in the jungle beneath the mystical glow of February’s full moon during a ceremony held by Indigenous women…

One of my passions...

Endlessly sculptural…ICE…!!!!

Excited for the season upon us but mostly I’m delighted to share adventures on ice with Raymond. I never imagined my rodeo bullfighting husband would discover his own love for the stuff. Raymond’s spiritual appreciation of and communion with Momma Nature (and the made-with-love gourmet sandwiches he creates for our adventures) are just a few sprinkles of the stardust goodness. He’s my favorite partner @raymondansotegui took this photo of me a few weeks ago…

Momma Nature Provides...

Spring and summer have been a mix of exploration and appreciation of Momma Nature both outside and inside my studio along with summer’s healthy dose of friends and family who visit this special place we get to call home. I’m finding new ways to squeeze in more mini adventures on studio days. Mountain biking “helmet hair”or the grit from rock and chalk beneath my nails or the satisfaction of happy sleepy dogs after a quickie six mile dawn hike accompany the grin on my face when I step into the studio. Raymond took this photo early one morning this week while I led a nearby “new-to-me” climb before studio time. Feeling fit. Inspired. Playfully and intentionally creative. Blessed.

Inspiration outside the studio

Endlessly sculptural. Zen garden soul stirring landscape entwined with Dr Seuss-like whimsical formations. Tantalizing. Grounding. Empowering. Humbling.

Parts of my creative process can be described with the same adjectives

Raymond and Yellowstone National Park Birthday Celebration

We celebrated both Raymond’s birthday and Yellowstone National Park’s 150th birthday with an ice climbing adventure in the Park yesterday. Perfect pairing of a magical place and the gracious bright light Raymond beams. Greeted by bison on the road, painterly skies, stellar frozen falls, beauty, wonder, nature and love followed by this moment tucked into comfy covers at a cozy little cabin in Cooke City - a wee little town perched on the edge of the Park. No cell service here. My handsome husband sleeps, my heart leaps. Blessed.

Full Moon Slow Dance

Home-sweet-home after a stellar 4 day adventure with my love. We hiked to lyrical waterfalls no longer frozen enough to climb, stayed in a historical brothel-turned-boutique-hotel (yes I packed tiny lacy things) Climbed stellar frozen Cataract Falls in the steep mountains near Augusta, attended 3 nights of Circuit Finals Rodeo to support and hang with friends and their families. I didn’t realize how hungry I was for ART until we took in the contemporary art installations at Paris Gibson Square Museum of Art which prompted us to pilgrimage to Lincoln to visit Blackfoot Pathways Sculpture in the Wild. Slid into the historical healing pools at Broadwater hot springs for our final interlude. Full moon magic welcomed us home-sweet-home.

Heart - Soul- Mind - Body - Cowboy boots - Ice Axes - Lace - Frozen Falls - Art - Hot springs

New Year's Day Beautitude...

Momma Nature all blinged out with magical crystal beauty that only happens in sub zero temps. New Year’s morning, Raymond and I uncurled from our cuddle, rolled off the air mattress in the dining room of the lovely Big Sky condo, suited up, tip-toed past sleeping friends, got the sliding glass door unstuck and slid into the hot tub where we soaked up the sunrise.

Thirteen degrees below zero.

I scampered barefoot and made a snow angel in my bikini as a post-it note greeting to the sky (and for the kiddos to discover when they woke from slumber).

Hiking in sub zero temps is other-worldly and LOUD. Cold snow crunch crunch crunch. Partnering up to climb on frozen falls was a sweet little retreat and memorable way to begin the New Year.

Tree Muse...

She embraced me morning and night. Vibrant vivacious daughter of the Mother. Smooth arms poised like a temple goddess. Her canopy sparkled with stars each night as I smudged with cedar and sage, accompanied by owl song. The tall red Dr Seuss bloom blew kisses while I meditated early mornings at this very spot just outside the door to our bedroom. Gratitude.