Taking Shape - 2nd story studio

WOW! Paul has only put eight days into construction and already I can do the “Snoopy Dance” on the 2nd story!!! 
Joy! Joy! The little room in back upstairs will be the painting/drawing studio – free from the sawdust of sculpture building in the main studio. The huge steel beams are part of the hoist system which will allow me to lift and move large objects…er…art…all by myself. Wahoo!!!

I shopped for toilets online early yesterday morning. Here is my dream toilet:

But of course such prettiness is not in the budget and then a brand new toilet was just given to me by a friend who doesn’t need it. Now, what does a studio-less artist do with a free toilet while construction is happening on her new studio? Ah ha!! I just might have to paint my own toilet. We’ll see. Truth is - it took a chunk of yesterday just to catch up on the HUGE bin of mail and bills. I’ve a zillion projects planned without throwing a toilet bowl on the “to do” list but -well…?!
 

 

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Sculptures Drying - Ladies Trying

Eleven straight days working 12-14 hours each day at the studio and those big o’l mesquite logs have transformed. Almost complete, they are standing under the temporary hoist system drying. Hand hewn chisel marks under umpteen layers of my own concoction of mixed stains - inlayed turquoise and swarovski crystals complete the sculptures. My paws are sore, my neck is creaky and my fingernails are darkly stained. I left the studio yesterday completely fried and hungry for some air.
Today I got up before dawn to join two girlfriends.  We threw our packs in the back of the truck and rolled over icy roads up the narrow canyon to what JoJo has dubbed “The Hyalite House” for the annual women’s clinic at the Bozeman Ice Climbing Festival. Since I fell in love with ice climbing at the festival years ago, I have returned each year as a volunteer eager to share my love of ice with others. Falling in love with ice climbing was easy; finding boots to fit my little feet in a sport dominated by men was the tough part. A year or two after ice climbing entered my life, my friend Supy began an ice climbing clinic just for women despite the fact that many of the local guides and retailers doubted a female audience existed for such a clinic. The turnout of curious brave women willing to push their limits to try something new within a supportive environment was overwhelming. The women’s clinic quickly grew to the largest on-ice-clinic for women in the world. Always sold out, more than 60 women come from all over to paricipate in the one-day clinic taught by some of the best female ice climbers in the world.
 
I volunteer each year to carry ropes, belay, and help coach the eager group of women. All ages and a variety of backgrounds make up the all female mob. Many of the women aren’t rock climbers or climbers at all. Some have never even tried a winter sport. What joy it is to watch gal after gal transform! Belief, compassion, patience, humor, and a few good tips can make all the difference. Intimidated by the ice, psyched about the “bad ass” feel of an ice ax in their hand, brightened by their accomplishment - what the women take away from this day of camaraderie is a big dose of self confidence, sore muscles, and HUGE grins.
 
Today was a treat. Crisp air, fresh snow, sculptural ice and the transformation that comes through empowerment make the volunteer day more-than-worthwhile. The sculptures are drying. Tomorrow I will pack up the studio. But tonight I imagine more than one gal is dreaming a few new dreams and perhaps tomorrow many women will awaken with a broadened belief in what is possible.

WAHOOOOOO!!!!

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Bit of a Curve Ball

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.

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Home Sweet Home

Home sweet Home

Wind blows heavy hunks of snow off the trees dancing outside my window. Pale sky, white ground and the heaping mountainside outside the window embrace me with heart-warming familiarity. The desert trip was good in unexpected ways. Record breaking low temps kept my skin from lapping up the air and sun. We bundled under layers of sleeping bags while the tent bucked like a rodeo bull in one impressive storm after another. We mountain biked in sleet, moonlight and snow. We caught a bit of sun while climbing but found the warm rays elusive; easily nudged aside by insistent bone-chilling, finger-numbing wind.   I caught a cold. Surprisingly the trip highlight happened in the heart of the Vegas strip.
Let’s start at the beginning:

After a sleepless night of preparations, Paul and I set out before dawn in a snowstorm. Somewhere in Idaho we decided to bag our plans for Moab since storms were brewing there and seek the sun in Vegas. Scott and Leslie were game to meet us at Red Rocks, camping sites were plenty, and the forecast promising. 

 

We jumped on our bikes the first respite in a sleet-filled day and biked ‘til after dark under a full moon. Cactus like Suesse characters stood out in the moonlit desert scape. Fun stuff.

The next day’s headwind blew a cold right into my lungs. But we’d already booked a $20.00 room at Hooter’s Casino so the promise of a hot shower and warm bed kept me peddling. The “3 Mile Smile” downhill was a blast and worth it. We were quite a site rolling a cart with coolers and duffel bags through the blinking light casino early that evening. We were bundled up in biking/camping clothes - a stark contrast to the cleavage flashing Hooter girls. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

After the Hooter's reprieve, we pitched our tents again.  Haunted by insomnia when much needed rest might have settled the cold lurking in my lungs, I almost took a day off for rest but we took off at dawn to tackle “Geronimo” – a fun multipitch five-hundred-and-something-foot climb. Climbing pitch after pitch up a rock face is one of my favorite kind of adventures. I coughed and sputtered my way up in the wind, froze during the four repels, but wouldn’t have missed the memory and adventure of a day on the rock with good friends.

Gifted with a beautiful post-climb sunset, we hugged Scott and Leslie goodby before finding another cheap Vegas Strip hotel room.  I needed a warm dry place to nurture the cold which had taken hold.

We settled into Circus Circus and set up camp.  Paul cooked elk spaghetti in the bathroom while I thawed in the tub. 

We returned to the rock but kept basecamp at Circus Circus.

Zaydee camped in the truck, under the topper, in her cozy bed and soaked in a bit of sun outside the Vegas Strip:

The nasty cold kept me from taking on the planned big adventures but it may have been a blessing-in-disquise since we decided to take advantage of our surroundings, splurge and see a show in Vegas. Thanksgiving Evening we ate warmed up Elk Spaghetti leftovers and fresh salad in our room before driving down the strip to MGM Grand for a  soul slurping, creativity engorging feast at “KA.” Cirque du Soleil can change your life. Serious. Four days after returning from the desert I still feel as if I am being fed intravenously from the experience of “KA.” Beyond words, I cannot think of the experience without goosebumps and an electric charge.  

What a gift!!! 

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Mixing Mud and Emotions - they pour the floor

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.

My own health has really turned a corner during the past month or two. Finally my middle is more like its old self. I no longer feel like a wide chasm cut my body into two disconnected parts with an echo bouncing in the wide open space between. The dark disappointing void is filling in.  Creativity burns bright and strong along with a notion that despite my inability to reproduce, I can still produce. Create. Give and receive. Lift, love, and laugh from my center. My “chi” (life force) once again burns bright and strong. Unsevered.
On top of the feelings and healings there is the whole gift of a studio. Blessings abound. Three weeks ago my patron and friend gave Paul the go-ahead to begin the project before she broke the news of her amazing gift to me with a phonecall.  I pulled over, listened as she told me her plans, hung up and cried. I couldn’t tell anyone that first week without crying. Happy tears. 
Since then the ground has been scraped, road made, hole dug, foundation poured, heated slab plumbed, poured and backfilled, septic put in, approved and buried. Power is to the site. The plans for a custom hoist system have passed inspection by an engineer, steel beams are ordered AND they have drilled for water. We haven’t found water yet but luck continues to shine since they got the floor poured and completed just hours before another winter storm.
 
During the last two weeks I completed a new carving which has gone to the foundry to become the first bronze edition created by me in oh-my-gosh-way-too-many-years! Feels good.  Pictures of the sweet little bunny-themed carving will be posted soon.  The Devil Woman Saloon sculptures are still in the works with some exciting developments. Challenging fun stuff. 
 
Energy and emotion buzz thoughts during sleepless nights. I must breath deep, feel all of it, field some of it, smile and take large drinks of sky - stardust and all.  
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Studio Site Progress

“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!!”

 

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Dream Come True...

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!!!!!

Did you just have to reread that sentence?  I can hardly believe it myself!!!  My very own studio.
 
A gift.
 
Blink       Blink      Blink
 
Gulp
 
Warm fuzzies, speechless and ecstatic!!!!
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Art Schlepping

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.

Will be good for me to take a break and snack on art…
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Sense of Place(s)

An innate sense of place is hard wired into my central nervous system. The need to nest chirps incessantly like hungry baby chicks and follows me wherever I go. Perhaps it has something to do with art – creating composition whether that composition is inside a tent, the front seat of my truck, at home or in a drawer. The arrangement of things or even the absence of things and the space between things affects everything. Objects have energy. Space reflects the energy of the objects and the inhabitants. I don’t need much BUT the things that make their way into my life are carefully selected and consciously arranged.
 

My home is a haven. My studio is not simply a shop with tools. 

Sharing a chunk of my life with Paul and the kids in Bozeman during the past year is a “cup-runneth-over” blessing. Four souls (new loved ones) landed in my life not long before a year punctuated with the loss of my father and the surgical removal of some significant girlie parts. While I mourned the loss of my ability to have children the Cosmos gifted me – not with motherless children- but with three children whose hearts are big enough to love another momma-ish being in their lives.  Blessings and surprises never cease; the little buggers teamed up with two of my nieces to perform a play for my father after his pancreatic cancer diagnosis AND they each made mother’s day cards for me. 

Goosebumps, tears, and a grin. 

I was careful not to tromp on the familiar home they previously shared with both of their parents while the bond between us blossomed. I felt like a misplaced flower in a garden not at all like my own – I tip-toed through the tulips.   Last week we moved from that over-large vacuous echo-filled unconsciously arranged place into a smaller comfy family-oriented home near a creek at the base of a canyon within their school district. PHEW! Our new home feels weed-free and ready for us to arrange ourselves with each other in mind. The rented house is older but the energy is fresh and family oriented. I call it “The Hyalite House.”Unexpectedly life has placed me in three gardens at once: my cabin at the end of the road near the top of a mountain, the studio, and now – the Hyalite House. Skipping, rooting, creating, settling and embracing.

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First Post-surgery Summit

Long awaited – at last – I sat on top of a mountain Sunday. 

Phew!!

I had no idea the healing process would take as long as it has or that life would challenge me enough that the need to challenge myself with a peak would not be a priority but I must say that being on top of a mountain felt really good!!! 
Mentally, spiritually and…yes…strangely enough even physically it felt good even though I was slow, out of shape, and hurting in places I haven’t hurt in awhile but a good hurt if that makes any sense. Three days have passed and I can still feel that summit in my feet, calves and thighs but I am grinning. 
 
“Elephant Head” is the name of the mountain I tagged in the Beartooths –a rather odd looking but compelling peak not far from my cabin. We picked and ate wild raspberries (in October!) 
The weather was perfect. Zaydee had a blast. Even she was stiff and sore for a few days since we haven’t been going out on a regular basis but I am itching to get fully back in shape and get after it (ice climbing season is just around the corner!)
 
 
 
 
 
 
Elephant Head is the squarish looking peak in the middle of the photo.  The peak doesn't resemble an Elephant in the photo but it certainly does once a person hikes up to the ridge and around to the backside of the peak.
 
 
 
 
 
Do you see an elephant?
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Stetson Legacy (and a proud mom)

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.

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"Making things right and the best they can be"

That’s Stetson’s motto, “Making things right and the best they can be.”   I will be honest. I had no idea what Stetson’s motto was until today after meeting Pam Fields the CEO. Stetson’s motto makes the honor of being inducted into the Stetson Craftsman Alliance meaningful. I don’t cut corners when it comes to craftsmanship in my work. Never have. None of the 10 women inducted today make things less than the best they can be. Individuality, integrity, and lasting style define western values according to Stetson. I agree. 

Thanks Stetson. I appreciate your decision to honor women who embrace qualities inherent in your products. The big black hat bestowed by you on each of the women chosen to be recognized today is a dandy. I’m honored.
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Hard Wood + New Bits = Progress

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.
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Lay-away for me...

 “I haven’t done lay-away since high school” I quipped excitedly as I skipped out the door of Tart. I jumped into my truck and scooted across town to take the fresh grouse leftovers from dinner to my mother for lunch. Then I remembered. I actually have done layaway since high school; twice. 

My sweet stove was bought on layaway. Used. White. Gas. The friendly looking Wedgewood sports a built-in grill, broiler drawer, and room heater.   I just had to have it. Luckily the fix-it fella at the cluttered appliance repair shop was willing to accept $25 as down payment.  Several months and $175 later the classic beauty was mine! Smooth enamel rounded corners and plenty of chrome, my little cabin kitchen didn’t have electricity but my “new” stove sure made it homey.  The guy who installed my gas line offered $2,000 for the stove – enough money to get me through winter (in those days). Glad I kept the stove.
The only other layaway purchase since high school hangs in my cabin - an original artwork by Natalie Sudman.                                                                    Once again I have put money down on art. 
 
I am pleased! 
 
Tickled. 
 
I’ve admired Gabriel Kulka’s work during the past year, made pilgrimages to his exhibits and read the excellent article written by Michelle Corriel – a local writer who has a special knack when it comes to understanding artists and their work. Gabriel Kulka is a visual poet who packs a lot of punch into his timeless soul-licking intimate and interesting sculptures. Although I am still catching up in the studio and with life after an especially challenging year outside the studio - I feel re-charged with the promise of a new inspiring art piece by an artist whom I admire. Know what? I may have to make a habit of purchasing art on lay-away.  Feels like christmas 'cuz I have the tantilizing anticipation along with the good feeling similar to the gifting part of christmas since the purchase directs moola to both the gallery and the artist...a good feeling.
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NEW art

"Jubilee"

Three days of working in an air conditioned studio on a BIG beautiful ranch in Texas sandwiched between two days of travel last week. Travel days would be fun if it weren’t for the fact that I am easily prone to motion sickness. “Easily prone” means that I can get sick on a swing set. No exaggeration. But the recent commission is complete. I returned to my Montana studio yesterday and took a nap since I was too tuckered from my flight home to take after the big mesquite scultpures with power tools. 

Before the Texas trip, Patron Members got to see a preview of seven NEW artworks. “Jubilee” found a home right away and two other artworks were snatched up by my collectors. Thus, four new artworks have been posted on my site today. If you can identify just one of them as brand new then post a comment with your guess and if you are right, I will let you pick a limited edition print for free.

Take a look. Venture a guess…
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Texas frogs

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…
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Pick of the Week

I believe his name says it all. “Hamlet” has a Shakespearian quality that is rough and ragged yet poetic and polished. I’m tempted to adopt him myself but would be happy if he found a loving home since the total purchase price of the "Pick of the Week” always goes toward charity. Visit the charity section of my blog if you’re curious.  Hamlet is half price this week. Enjoy

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