“Swan Lake”

Restless.  A blue funk had hold of me so I took a few days ago to visit my dear pal Yogi up at Swan Lake (near Big Fork).  His house is tucked into the forest in a narrow tree-filled valley between the majestic Mission Mountains and frozen lakes.   No cell service.

Sweet.

The last stretch of road to Yogi’s bends and winds for an hour through thick forest.  Deer must be watched for.  Glimpses of lakes were a respite from trees.  Ice fishermen sat like salt and pepper   shakers on white linen – the remnants of a grand white-table clothed feast stained here and there with abandoned fishing holes.

We had a few shots at Yogi’s before attending the “Fireman’s Ball.”  Slipping in cowboy boots, I navigated across the obstacle course of slush and ice toward the community center where pink and red paper Valentine decorations hung from the paneled ceiling and cornmeal dusted the dance floor.  Yogi scored some Rose Tequila, Jack Daniels and a giant propane torch in the silent auction.  Other items included a delivery of propane, a load of gravel, a basket brimming with hand knit washcloths and a crocheted quilt. 

I met a  bubbly animated writer – a pretty little gal married to a big handsome clam grower.  They wintered in the Swan Valley while their clams hibernated in Vermont.  The cheerful big-boned ladies in the kitchen joked with me as we unwrapped tinfoil and plastic wrap from potluck food items.  The tiny community has less than 200 residents and it seemed like most of them were at the ball.

I’m guessing many of the Fireman’s Ball attendees were nursing hangovers the next day but we were out skiing with the dogs.  Yogi adopted two abandoned puppies…fluffy little bouncing fur balls. 

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Insight Excite Play – another Eagle Mount Day

“Do you know why they put us together?”  Becky asked me. 
“Why?” I asked her. 
“Because we’re BOTH crazy!”  she said.  I laughed.  “We’re CRAZY!!  We’re both from the funny farm!” She said gleefully.  “"You make me laugh because you’re crazy!  You’re really crazy!!  Laughing is good.  Do you know why?  Because laughing makes me feel good!  Laughing is good for you!!  You’re funny!!”  Becky said with exuberance. 
We cackle.  We giggle.  We shout.  We throw snowballs.  We sing.  We make up songs.  We HOOT and shout encouragement from the chairlift to other disabled skiers and their volunteers below.
I listen.  She teases.  I tease her back.  We hug…lots.
We talk about boys, food, chocolate, movies, mountains, countries, people, places, chocolate and boys (yes…I said chocolate and boys twice - we say many things multiple times).  She apologizes when she is scared.  She brags when she accomplishes something beyond her fear.  I coax.  I encourage.
We ski. 
But mostly we laugh. 
Eagle Mount is a volunteer program for the disabled.
 

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“Fun” Raiser Results

I feel blessed - blushing, and beaming thanks to the kind efforts of Paul and his father who crafted more than woodwork when they launched an auction for me at Vern’s Wood Goods. Thank-you everyone for visiting their site and sending me healing thoughts, prayers, and good wishes! Being the benefactor of a benefit has pushed my comfort zone AND warmed my heart. The auction was a success on many levels.   Vern’s Wood Good’s website had almost 900 visits including visitors from 22 countries and every state except Oklahoma.  Vern and Paul raised $1000.00 for me - and I have never even met them! 
How’s that for a sweet Valentine?!!  Paul read a feature article about me in WOOD magazine 8 years ago.  I admire the open friendly way he approached me with his idea and the kind way he launched the project.  I am glad so many people have been exposed to Vern and Paul’s fine woodwork.
Due to the incredible outpouring of support, the bid levels for many of the items in the auction jumped above the comfort level for many people so Paul offered suggestions for other ways to support if you are interested: http://www.vernswoodgoods.com/amber-auction Of course just the positive energy and warm fuzzies have been a blessing!!  I am amazed that two fellas whom I’ve never met have stepped up and “have my back.”
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Thank-you!!
What an incredible journey all of this has been!!

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“Coyote” goes to Philly

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Vibrant and fun, my Works on Paper series are playful pieces created in the studio as a break from the intensity of labor-intensive large scale sculptures.  The artworks are small (about 5x6 inches) and especially affordable because it makes me happy to make it easier for ANYONE to own art.  Technology has even made it possible for people interested in my work to purchase art and be a patron for $5.95 a month. 

Artist’s need Patrons.  Michelangelo needed the Medici’s. 

Thus…I launched the Patron Program exactly one year ago as a twist on the traditional relationship between artist and patron.  The idea is to gather LOTS of patrons who can invest a small amount toward my creative endeavors.  I offer affordable art and share an intimate peek into my bumbling honest authentic creative  journey.  Fostering a relationship between me and you; artist and patron – the community on my website is called the Patron Place.  Benefits include free art, special invitations, gifts, stories, audible downloads, webinars, and “insider” stuff - like the first chance to see new work.  People can even become a Patron Member for the cost of one fancy coffee drink a month via the automatic payment plan.

Rosina signed up as a Patron Member a year ago.  She was the first patron to renew her membership this month.  “Coyote” was  shipped to Rosina in Philadelphia this week…warm fuzzies and fun for both of us.  Interested?  Visit the Patron Place.  Join me and others on the creative adventure!

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Window Chewing

“What a BEAUTIFUL day,” I said looking up at the Bridger Mountains from the chairlift where I sat next to Becki.  “I am so glad to be here.”

“YES!!” she shouted triumphantly.  “I am so glad to be here.  Do you know where we would be if we weren’t here?  Guess where we would be.  Do  you know where we would be?”

“Where would we be?”

“We would be STUCK.  Stuck.  We would be stuck like a window chewing up the walls” Becki said.

I repeated her statement.  She repeated her statement.  “Chomp chomp” I said with a grin.  Becki’s eyes were barely visible behind goggles; the helmet with yellow lightning stickers matched her jacket stained like a child’s bib down the front of her giggling jiggling body. 

I sat next to this mentally disabled being, our feet dangled below the chairlift above the white snow slopes.  The image of a window occupied my mind.  Clean.  Clear.  The wonderfully pale blue wall crumbled like a cookie as the window made loud destructive satisfying chewing sounds.   Sunlight beamed  through crystal clean glass.  How wonderful to share the lift with this special gleeful person. 

Each Thursday I ski with Becky as a volunteer for the Eagle Mount program.   Time with her on the mountain is a gift that charges my heart with energy even while my healing body struggles to keep up with the physical effort.  The image of the wall-eating-window has stuck with me and I wonder…

…perhaps being an artist is a bit like being that window.

I’m curious – do you think being an artist is like being a window that chews up the walls?

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Eli Isaly Benefit

_DSC1499 “Storm Bird”

1985 dog fine art “Honest Abe”

While I am happy to be able to donate artwork for important fundraisers - I never actually select the art myself.  Thankfully, Eli’s good friend Bev selected two pieces for the upcoming benefit for the Isaly family.  Eli Isaly sustained serious injuries in a car accident December 28th.  He is a young exceptional being from the kind of family that makes our little community shine.  Laura Bray of The Frame Garden donated time and materials to frame the artworks for the auction event taking place February 21st (1:00- 4:00) at the Elks Lodge in Livingston.  I just love how much my little town bands together at times like this!!

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Sister City Program

A few summers ago I had the privilege to accompany 10  young students from our little town of Livingston to our “sister city” of  Naganohara, Japan.  Japan The cultural exchange between the two beautiful towns is the kind of stuff I believe strongly in.  Travel stretches the minds, hearts, souls, and perception of our young people by exploring and sharing openly with another culture.  Neither Naganohara or Livingston are actually “cities.”  Rather they are both small towns in valleys along rivers with natural hot springs near by.  At least those are a few of the reasons why we were “paired.”  I’ve zillions of stories from a grand trip.  The Sister City Program is having an auction soon so of course I donated art.    Does your “city” have a sister city?
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 “Ray of Light”
donated to the Sister City Auction

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The Cosmos Squashed my Doubts

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. 

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Latest Patron Place Winner

Ok.  This is fun.  I have a jar with slips of paper holding the names of each Patron Place member (someday I hope it is a very very BIG jar!)  I sit on the floor, empty the slips of paper into a big crystal singing bowl, play a chime on the bowl while I close my eyes and think about all of you who have collected my work and become my patrons…

And then I pull out a name.

Right there in my hand is the name of a person who supports my art, my lifestyle, me.  I am full of gratitude.  Here’s the fun part:  Now I get to give back.  A present.  Their choice of an original work on paper.  Wahoo!

My little brother was the lucky winner this time._DSC1453

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Mattie”

Howard chose this little gal.  “Mattie” will be shipping off to Minnesota.

Thank-you Patrons and thank-you little bro!  Your support means much to me! 

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Logs on their way…

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 n Log

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! 

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Synchronicity and Shadows

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 wilderness rangermelted 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. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Blue Moon-ness

I’m feeling a sparkly blue-moon-dust kind of  excitement for 1010.   Not only was it a big full BLUE Moon last night but there was a partial lunar eclipse as well.  We had a rather blustery night and a blurry sky which kept my dinner guests and I inside the cozy cabin for the evening’s festivities.  No one expected to stay awake NewYears‘til the New Year after stuffing ourselves with elk spaghetti.  Felicia blew out the bright pink candles on her chocolate birthday cake, we drank more wine, and the sky brightened.  Sometime after 11 pm, the wind quieted enough to entice us out…and UP…to Leroy’s Lookout.  Toting plastic sleds, we plodded up the mountain to the humble little cabin I used to call home.  Perched on top (and cabled to the rocks) the plywood shack is where I lived my first winter on the Wineglass Mountain.  Memorable. 

We heard thunder, twice before reaching the cabin.  I have never heard winter storm thunder before.  I didn’t even know it was possible but the thunder added another rather auspicious punctuation point to the old year/new year night.  Three of us toasted at midnight with Jack Daniels Snow Slushies.  We hung out on top of the world and swapped stories while the fire crackled and the Coleman lantern hummed.  The valley stretched bright below.  Livingston lights twinkled.  The moon stayed mostly obscure in a winter white sky but grew potent enough to cast shadows. 

Magical. 

We bundled up and headed out into the moon shadows.  We’d stashed the sleds under a tree near an edge of the mountain top saddle.  I lined up in my sled and led the way down the steep slope.  Many years ago when I lived up there, I would sled down each morning in a cheek reddening rush while Shiva practiced her border collie herding skills and tried to nip my snow boots.  The slope is long and steep with curves and a sharp switchback.  We all screamed with glee (and fear) while the dogs barked in the moonlight. 

Laughing, sliding, and bumbling along, we made it back to my cabin at 2 am without any serious injuries.  I packed up birthday cake for my guests, took a handful of Ibuprofen, and crawled under the covers with a cold butt and a heart which glowed warm with blue moon dust. 

Blue Moon2

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About my tree…

Christmas treeTook me twenty minutes to find the biggest tree I’ve ever attempted to stuff into my little 18’ x 28’ cabin. I always pick a tree from a crowded bunch.  That way the remaining trees gain elbow room and sunlight while the harvested tree has a gimped up side (or two) that I can shove into the corner.  Once lit, the tree stays lit day and night until take-down-time.
The magical traditional Christmas markets in Germany inspired me to collect my first few tree ornaments when I was seventeen.  I earned my exchange student tuition and airfare by painting bronzes for Harvey Ratty and Pamala Harr. A few graphic design jobs picked up on the side supplemented my savings.  Regardless to say, shopping funds were limited but I couldn’t resist picking out a few handmade beauties.  Memories of my first Christmas away from home flash vivid with sound, smell, and a mix of nostalgic emotion when I hang the miniature wooden Nutcracker ornament (complete with a mini moving nutcracker jaw).  Lordy was that really more than two decades ago?!   Hot spiced wine, roasted nuts, cold cheeks, festive little lights and a skyline framed by old European town square architecture are a vivid postcard memory of the romantic holiday spirit I experienced in a country 1/3 the size of my state back home. 
cathedral-of-st-peter-bremen-d099[1]Beyond the magic markets, Christmas was elusive and  homesickness leered.  My host family’s tradition meant that no trace of Christmas entered the house until Christmas Eve when the tree and presents were placed while we attended the Christmas program at the Bremer Cathedral.  A featureless sky was caught between between buildings in a snowless city.  I felt small, cold and a bit overwhelmed in the large cathedral where a priest spoke from his elevated box.  My host family engaged in a raucous frenzy of simultaneous gift unwrapping back at the flat where the tree had been put up complete with real candles. 
A second celebration with the Münck family later that night gave me another whole flavor and depth of Christmas.  I was their guest in a small country church where I sang “Silent Nacht” with a reverence inspired by midnight mass and the knowledge that I was singing the song in it’s native tongue.  Afterwards I gulped greedily from the starry night, thankful for a relatively expansive patch of sky pierced by the humble church steeple.  The Münck’s gave me a string of freshwater pearls.  I blushed when I unwrapped the underwear set.  Big white navel-swallowing undies with a matching undershirt had been gifted “to keep me warm” since I rode my bike everywhere.  I never wore the undies out of fear of embarrassment in the off-chance I got run over in the city and discovered dead or wounded in “granny panties.”

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The Longest Night

night-stars[1]

I danced naked with girlfriends around a big campfire to celebrate the winter solstice.  Each gal wore a pair of colorful fingerless gloves knit by me during the post surgery convalescence.  We left our boots on (and our hats, coats, clothes) but we were naked in spirit.  The solstice meadow is a special place on my mountain made more special by the ritual we shared on this winter’s eve.  Fueled by a bit of wind, the fire got wild and crazy.  We tossed our meaningfully crafted wood sculpture offerings into the flames, held hands and opened our hearts to the spirit of the longest night.  Giggling gleefully, we kicked up our heels and the snow while we spun about under the stars.  Goofy gutsy glorious girl stuff.

 

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Tragic Death

My thoughts have been preoccupied with the untimely loss of an exceptional human being.  Guy was a cross between Buddha and a leprechaun; he radiated a delightful spark and spirit emulated from his connection to Mother Nature, his depth of character and his passion.  Somehow just meeting him felt like a blessing.  I walked away from a simple encounter with Guy wearing a grin and feeling awestruck – not so much by Guy’s accomplishments (which are legendary) but rather by his uncluttered simplicity which stemmed from his enlightened embrace of life.  He was wise, humble and content.  Guy inspired us.16465_369452205321_645865321_10205158_4375214_n[1]

Last week his special spirit was snuffed when an avalanche swept him off a cliff while participating in the annual Hyalite “Icebreakers” climbing competition.  I felt like puking when a friend told me Guy Lacelle died that morning in our local ice climbing haven.  Full of shock and disbelief, my heart wept for JoJo (a long time friend and climbing partner of Guy’s) and for Guy’s wife Marge whom I don’t know but feel a connection to simply because Guy shared pictures and stories of her.  Later as the full tragic story came together in bits and pieces, my sorrow and shock was deepened by compassion for the other climbers; Adam – Guy’s partner that day, Sam and Josh who were climbing above.  

I want to admit also, that I am uncomfortable with the fact that the tragedy occurred here, in our own ice climbing “backyard.”  Guy was from Canada.  He climbed all over the world.  Somehow the tragic loss would be more palpable if it happened somewhere else - anywhere else; another country, another state.  My thought is purely selfish.  Anywhere is still a “backyard” for others.  But the fact is, Guy was a special guest…here.  On a purely selfish note; I feel disheartened and a bit let down by Hyalite even though I know how ridicules that sounds.  However I am heartened by the love, respect and care in which the local community handled the tragedy.  I talked with the sergeant in charge of Gallatin County SAR (search and rescue).  He told me it was an honor to be involved – an unforgettable day that felt like he and others had recovered a Viking.

I am too choked up to write more.  Let me share a letter written for The Bozeman Daily Chronicle by my dear friend JoJo:

“As an organizer and emcee of the recent Bozeman Ice Climbing Festival, I want to extend my deepest appreciation to Bozeman, all the great folks that traveled from across the country and Canada to be here, and the entire outdoor community for all your love and support in the face of the tragic loss of our dear friend and mentor Guy Lacelle. Guy (rhymes with see) was lost in an avalanche on Silken Falls in Hyalite Canyon on Thursday, December 10th.13839_211159663674_537883674_2980831_5672382_a[1]

Guy, originally from Ontario and living in Prince George, British Columbia, was the greatest and most accomplished waterfall ice climber to ever live, experiencing routes around the world that may never be surpassed. But more importantly I, and scores of others, knew Guy as the most wonderful and inspiring human being we've ever known. In 18 years of loving and being loved by this man, I've never known anyone to be as ethically pure, morally strong, competitive yet compassionate, such a committed conservationist, and so caring of others and animals.

Last Thursday Guy and 23 others were engaged what we call the Hyalite Ice Breaker. Simply, I designed this as a like-minded event where old and new friends simply go out and try to climb as many routes in Hyalite as they can. Whoever does the most gets only their name inscribed on a special ice axe on display at Northern Lights Trading Company. It is a celebration of the partnerships, bonds and experiences found while ice climbing in the Hyalite Canyon. Guy truly embraced the Ice Breaker more than anyone. He was here for weeks in advance to re-connect with friends and climb and strategize. He was competitive but not in a "I'm out to beat you" sort of way. He just loved the gamesmanship of it. And like the true gentleman and hero he was, he only enjoyed it if you where having fun right along with him.

When Guy's wife Marge told me on Friday morning that Guy and his family would want the Festival to continue, it gave me the emotional strength required to go forward. After all, if there was one thing I knew about Guy, it was that he would be heartbroken if he knew anyone did not have a good time nor didn't get to experience the joys of ice climbing because of his expense, even in dying.

Yet I need to acknowledge the local community again for embracing that spirit and helping us make the most of the weekend. Personally I wouldn't have made it through three more days without you. Thank you to all the participants for your enthusiasm in the clinics, many of you trying ice climbing for the first time. It would have been easy to cancel the whole thing, but seeing so many of you energized by the sport over the next three days made it all worthwhile. Thank you for attending the wonderful public tribute at the Emerson Friday night. Thank you for the respect and care during the private reception we held for Marge and her family at the Emerson Grill on Saturday. They too are humbled and grateful for the love and support shown by the Bozeman community and look forward to returning soon.
Many people have asked on how they can donate to the memory of Guy Lacelle and his family. Without hesitation they requested any donations be made to the local animal shelter, Heart of the Valley. Please follow the "Donate Now" links at www.heartofthevalleyshelter.org. Please be sure to check the "In Memory of" option.

Thank you all.
May you all have a happy and safe holidays with your loved ones.”

Joe Josephson – Livingston, MT

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