First bee bombed. The wee bee was just too clunky. Bee #2 seemed more wasp-like than bee-like. The folks at Boyer Bronze found a dead bee and kindly saved it for me. But when I used the real bee as a reference for Bee #3 – the shape still wasn’t quite right for the project. So the head of Bee #3 ended up on Bee #2. I adjusted the body and….viola!! Finally a bee I can live with. The critter will be legless, wingless, and antennae-less until the next stage of casting. I put the wax bee in a cup and bounced it down the mountain with the bronze dog to the foundry. The bee is part of the bronze dog commission (it will perch on the dog's nose.)
Then I went “shopping” for wood - which means I wove between stacks of logs, beams and boards at Matt Ridgeway’s sawmill yard until an Ash log presented itself as a good possibility to experiment with. Matt will saw it up for me tomorrow - just another step in the “toe-kicking” and “brain-picking” stage of launching a new series of small-ish sculptures. Can't wait!
autumn in the air
Yesterday evening Zaydee and I ran up a trail through the woods along Suce Creek. The trail felt almost damp and cool – certainly a subtle change from dry summer dusty trails. I watched a singular large yellow leaf fall quickly to the ground. Nothing poetic or romantic about the swift no-frills fall – no spinning or floating – just a quick silent exit from the tree to the ground marked the change of seasons. The leaf fall left a pang and a bit of panic in my chest; I am not ready for summer to be over. But this morning rose deliciously crisp and cool. The sky hung low. Something about the change of seasons clicks a renewed sense of purpose in my soul. “Pay attention” Momma Nature whispered in the charged air.
I left my cabin in striped flannel pants, herded by sky as if tucked beneath the soft protective wing of a mother bird and pushed toward my studio nest. Even my morning cup of tea brimmed with purpose (and tasted better) as the smell of autumn lingered. Time to get to work!
studio open house and the park county studio tour
I could ramble on about the joyful GRAND open house and the Park County Studio Tour which took place last weekend but I am feeling plumb tuckered in the “ramble” part of my life after a full weekend of guests and entertaining.
We started with a kick-off party and art opening Friday night at the Danforth Gallery which featured all 40 artists in the Park County Studio Tour and ended with an artist’s gathering Sunday night after two full days of Open House visitors. I would be more inclined to rave about the celebratory weekend if I had a pictures to post. But Stacey and I were so busy entertaining the endless stream of happy awestruck well-wishers that we never took photos. Some of the guests took photos which I will post when I get them. Stacey showed (and sold) some of her vivid encaustic paintings and was a huge help during the whole Open House. I am tickled that so many people made the trek up the mountain to the end of the road to share and celebrate my dreamie new studio.
scratching my way…
More-often-than-not…I haven’t a clue how to begin a new piece.
Big blank piece of paper + huge hunk of wood + journal page + computer screen = scary shit.
I don't have a starting gate with a gun or the intro notes of a song. I rarely have the grace of simply knowing. Sometimes I have a vision – which is more often a gut feeling than a crystal clear path. I never have step-by-step instructions. BUT begin I must.
Maybe I’ll begin more than once – which is better than not beginning at all. I just have to make a mark, or a cut, or a sentence. Gather a bit of gumption and scratch my way…
special #19
WAHOO!!
More-than-excited and oozing with inspiration I can happily report that a grand mesquite log has entered my brand spanking NEW studio to be transformed by wee little me!!! The log has “#19” inscribed on the bottom – which just happens to be a favorite number of mine.
I’m feeling LUCKY! The log was patiently waiting outside all winter for the studio to be completed. I am itching and the clock is ticking…
seven days in the wilderness
After seven days floating through the wilderness on the Salmon River in Idaho, the kids didn’t want to return to civilization. Our friends drew a permit and invited us along with a few other families. Ten adults and 8 children floated 80 miles of the Main Salmon River through Idaho. We camped on sandy beaches, visited petro glyphs, fished, rafted, star gazed, sun-soaked, swam and played for a blissful week. Well – mostly blissful. I could certainly have done without the zillion bug bites I got our first night after we launched – but it was totally my fault. Enthusiastically we decided to skip pitching our tents to sleep under the stars. Everyone crashed snug in their sleeping bags on a tarp on the beach. Everyone except me. Insomnia kept me up wandering around and tossing outside my over-heated sleeping bag – which would not have been a big deal except for the no-seeums which came out after dark in an invisible but persistent and hungry frenzy. While everyone sported a dozen bites or so from that night, I collected more than 100 bites on each leg with a zillion more on my back, arms, face and head. DAMN itchy!!! BUT – luckily the rest of our trip was bug-free. We saw one bear, one rattlesnake, dozens of goats and eagles, a deranged overly friendly deer and lots of fish. We had a blast. Unplugged from civilization; recharged by Momma Nature. (just click the photos if you want to view them larger)
dog feet and a foundry date
Here's a peek at the dog sculpture - feet first. The bronze will be done in two weeks - just in time for my big GRAND opening and studio OPEN HOUSE!!!
Yes that's clay - not my usual medium but I have a knack for any medium and this was the best choice for the commission. You wouldn't believe how hard it is to find good pictures of dog feet. Zaydee has furry feet and I needed lab feet. But I used some photos sent by a California friend of his greyhound dogs feet. I went through a few "dog model" experiences which were nightmarish before dear Sage came and hung with me for a day at the studio. She has fine feet! She was however lacking a "willy" and believe me - good photos of boy dog parts are MUCH harder to find than feet photos!! The fella isn't lacking however.
I don't believe I'll post more photos until the bronze is done because I don't want to reveal too much to the client before they see the finished dog. We'll see....I might change my mind...
squeezing in play time
Between life, family, work, visitors and unplanned trips to ER (see below) – I am not quite certain how I manage to find time to play but play I must. Much inspiration and down-right gumption come from adventures in Momma Nature – fuel for my lifestyle and thus (of course) my art. Integral. Luckily much of what I do is practically in my own or Paul’s “back yard.” Hyalite Creek for example runs past the bedroom window and sings to me nights at Paul’s house. The Bozeman house is at the base of Hyalite Canyon - a mecca for mountain biking, ice climbing, rock climbing, lake floating, and peak bagging. We simply follow the road next to the creek out our front door up the canyon to play. We floated the lake in tubes, fished, and hung out after hiking up to Palisade Falls with Paul’s sister and family one afternoon while they visited from Europe last week.
Paul and I squeezed in a Sunday evening ride up to Emerald Lake (also in Hyalite Canyon). I was bone-tired after a few seriously sleep deprived nights but managed the energy to climb on our bikes over 2000 feet in 4.5 miles of backwoods single track – one of my favorite trails. Once we got to the stunning ice cold lake surrounded by a rocky cirque, we stripped down and jumped in. Refreshing!!
Paul challenged me to do a snow angel (much to Zaydee's delight) before we jumped on our bikes for the zippy fun downhill ride to the trailhead at sunset - a great way to top a weekend spent mostly working!
from foam to clay
Aroma as thick and delectable as jam flavors the air after a rainstorm on my mountain. How blessed am I that the walk to work in the morning is through the woods?!! Can hardly fill my lungs enough as I take deep breaths and Zaydee skips around my feet. I am a fresh air addict. Mmmmm....
But let me share a few more photos from the recently completed dog sculpture. Paul, the kids and I enjoyed a snowy wet rainy Memorial weekend here on my mountain. Sami and a girlfriend had a slumber party in my new studio nap room. Everyone pitched in to put clay on the Styrofoam doggie. What a great batch of enthusiastic assistants!
between the snake and the ER
The post-Texas-trip return to my studio was spent in the office part of art life Monday. I cranked and crammed in an all day attempt to catch up in my perky little Limalicious office. Thank goodness the desk offers vista views of mountains and sky. Afterwards I was startled by a rattlesnake while walking to my cabin. Ok - “startled” is hardly the right word. My heart leapt into high-gear and tried to Tick Tock its way right out of my throat when the bugger sprang into coil-up-rattle-and-spit-fire-from-its-eyes mode all in about the sum total of .0002 seconds. My reaction time was less impressive. I couldn’t take my eyes off its BIG fangs and my feet were stuck like a mouse in a glue trap less than ten inches from the snake. I took a slow step back and looked for Zaydee. Perked, alert and curious - she seemed glad enough to heed my command and high-tail it forty yards to my front door.
Phew!
The snake had nothing to do with a middle-of-the-night round in ER. The snake encounter was just one dark Oreo cookie paired with the ER dark Oreo cookie. The yummiest unforgettable white creamy scrumptious filling stuffed between those two events was a Gillian Welsh and Dave Rawling’s concert. Their performance was the best soul-spark, heart-grin bright light batch of magic I’ve witnessed in a long while. They are soul-food of the best kind and the evening’s helping came complete with a cherry-on-the-top chance encounter with them under the Montana night sky a half hour after the concert. My feet still felt light and skippy from the performance and I gushed in a totally star-struck jumbled up tongue jam. Dork.
Oh well.
Heart happy – I headed to Paul’s house full of kids and out-of-town company. Cliff called. He was choking on his own blood while driving himself to the hospital with an insane gusher nose-bleed. I punched my truck into 90 miles an hour over the mountain pass between Bozeman and Livingston to arrive at ER less than 20 minutes behind Cliff. They had stopped the bleeding but he was nauseous from swallowing so much blood, his blood pressure plummeted and he quickly passed out. His body twitched with all the drama of a cardiac arrest. My heart cemented itself in my throat and the medical team descended upon him. I firmly called his name over and over in an attempt to call him back into his body.
Lordy.
Seems he had complications as a result of the nose surgery 3 ½ weeks ago. Hours later I brought a woozy, white-faced, plumb-tuckered and nose-medically-stuffed Cliffy home to what looked like a bloody murder scene in his cabin. Crawling into my own bed an hour before sunrise, I closed my eyes to conjure the creamy Oreo cookie part of the evening and counted my blessings.
doggie skinny-down time (if only it were that easy for me!)
A rasp and a Sawzall were used to shape the Styrofoam armature of this little doggie. Pretty simple process but those little Styrofoam balls stick with static to everything. Pesky.
My helpful critics (whether I ask or not) – seemed a bit worried at the look of the fella at this stage. I am sure Cliff and Paul thought the sculpture looked too puny. BUT the Styrofoam is simply an armature for the clay – thus it must be smaller than the final critter.
playing catch! (up) with the dog
PHEW! I am dropping off the sculpture of the dog and bee at the foundry today while on my way for an evening of rock climbing before I roll my butt onto a plane in the wee hours of Sunday morning for another trip to Texas. I promised progress photos of the dog sculpture project but have been busy settling into my studio as an artist at work rather than an artist working on her studio.
Here are a few of the early stages working with Styrofoam:
first summit of the season
Mountain peaks beckon me – not just to look at but to approach, explore and sit upon. Usually I visit several each summer. I just LOVE to traverse from summit to summit on high mountain ridges. I plan not to let a month slip by this summer without tagging at least one summit. June was challenging because ALL the peaks remained buried in snow and Momma Nature was exceptionally moody - not at all cooperating weather-wise. But last week I was tickled and tempted when o’l Mt Baldy sported only a few snow patches on its friendly round bald head. Laying in the Bridger Mountains above Bozeman, the peak is not at all formidable looking but it does require 4300 feet of steep uphill hiking from the trailhead below the “M.” Honestly it seems more like 3000 feet of elevation gain to me but a Google search posted 4300...?
Two summers ago Baldy was the final summit tagged in a multi-summit traverse with my girlfriend Amy before descending to the Sweet Pea Festival, an outdoor Shakespeare performance and dinner with friends. Amy had just discovered a suspicious lump on her breast and I was dealing with a large tumor myself. The traverse isn't technical but perfect girlfriend chat time. We share a soulful connection. Since that traverse we have both had surgeries and she’s had a baby. Joining Amy for a return to the wide round summit seemed fitting and fun. We decided not to do the traverse across the Bridger's because of the snow on the other peaks. Then too, she had a baby to get back to - so we tagged the bugger June 29th during an 11 mile loop up from the “M” trail, down Sypes Canyon and back up and down along the foothills to our vehicles. Perfect weather. Beautiful morning. Great gal pal.
We'll see what summit(s) July has in store...
an idle hoist
STYROFOAM?!! The strange block of whiteness seems out of place in my brand spank’n new studio.
Just check out the BIG hoist hanging there itch’n to get to work to lift some of my own heavy large sculptures BUT…ah…well. Patience. I can feel the Cosmos chuckle at me with a sideways grin and mischievous glint in its big beaming eyes. After months of being studioless and now settling into this new dream space - I have a packed-full smorgasbord of scrumptious emotionally spiced ideas for sculptures but find this solitary little sugar cube on my plate instead.
And thus begins the first art project in my new space. I’ll be honest – I hadn’t really planned on sharing photos from this piece since the direction in my personal work is so very different from this sculpture. BUT. Well. What the heck. I believe you'll enjoy the transformation of Styrofoam and clay into a pet-able little piece.
respite from storms
Late yesterday afternoon I cleaned the blood from the front seat of my truck (left from Cliff’s post surgery ride home) and threw in my dusty biking backpack covered in dried mud from the last ride a few weeks ago (where we got caught in a downpour/hailstorm). I drove over the lush green pass to Bozeman and marveled at the blooming countryside. Distant storms crept over snow capped mountains. My own soul felt like it had swallowed a dark storm cloud full of tears but it felt better to move with and through that cloud than to sit and brew.
After I helped my girlfriend Leslie with the final chores of packing and moving from her home, we headed for the hills. The trail was pretty buff and mostly dry. Switchback after switchback we climbed through thick woods to mountain meadows full of wildflowers. My body is once again strong and healthy –no longer the strange post-surgery unfamiliar weakened core that challenged my patience and confidence last year. I am springing back with the lush vigor I see around me. Our own woods are abundant after an especially long dark drawn-out cold, wet and dramatic spring. We are not free from storms- in fact the clouds unleashed more rain after our gleeful descent last night- but we are gifted with glowing sunshine and wildflower filled respite between the storms. Looming storms heighten awareness and sharpen senses. Unleashing storms humble and awe. Post storm intense aroma and freshness renew and refresh. The sunshine warms and soothes. All of Mother Nature’s moods are beautifully played on the grand stage of the Rocky Mountains where I am lucky enough to call home and in which my own soul’s propensity for intensity finds kinship.
road rash
Emotions splatter my innards like a Jackson Pollack painting – levity is elusive.
A few relationships in my life are currently especially challenging – scraping me raw. I wonder just what is up with me?! Perhaps it is the road I am on. Whether it is the road itself or my klutzy navigation, I can report an impressive bit of road rash on my soul. Painful stuff.
My father’s funeral was a week ago. Feels like it was just the day before yesterday even though much has transpired since: a two-day trip home, a few studio days and another road trip for Cliff’s surgery. One evening was spent climbing, one evening at Jake’s ballgame, one BBQ hosted at the Bozeman place for mom and my brother Howard’s family and one evening of nursing Cliff after his surgery (routine and successful nose surgery). My intentions to get out for the Livingston Art Walk last night were thwarted by exhaustion and lack of gumption which came more from insomnia than the packed schedule. The road-rash-soul intensifies my insomnia – I just cannot sleep comfortably with so much open and oozing.
I am deeply thankful for the NEW studio – an inspirational respite and compelling reason to motivate through the pain. Momma Nature also adds salve to my wounds with the invitation to breath deep and play a bit. Life (of course) is not totally a smooth downhill paved-road cruise in the open air and sunshine. So I plug and pant my way through another uphill section – klutzy, tuckered and sore but game to gain some elevation and see what is around the next bend…
styrofoam, clay, stone and ashes
I am on the flip side of a few dark murky weeks. Vivid light beams bright inside as my soul takes some refueling deep breaths and stretches its arms wide. Skip rather than slog. Grin rather than grimace. PHEW!
One would think that having gotten settled into my NEW studio I would be FULL of light and skipping incessantly. Alas. Not. Quite. A combination of Styrofoam, clay, stone and ashes have kicked my butt and pummeled my heart along with some dark sticky monsters from the family closet - but those I will explore later - via my art.
Meanwhile, styrofoam and clay are not a regular medium for this gal who LOVES the smell of wood chips and sawdust. BUT – they are a good choice for the current commission SO despite the brand new impressive HEAVY DUTY hoist and I-beam system in my NEW studio begging to lift a heavy load - I found myself staring at these two blocks of Styrofoam -more intimidating somehow for me than a 2000 pound log. Seriously.
Luckily Jake was an enthusiastic assistant for the first few cuts:
Somehow there is a dog in there. But. Where?!
Progress seemed slow. While I am overflowing with inspiration and near-to-bursting with ideas for creative pursuits in my NEW space – the commission was frankly - in the way. Blocked in the inspiration department for this particular project I found extra distraction and resistance because of another looming project. Life stuff was taking up much of my heart along with my time. I can’t go into all of it without sounding like a full multi-episode Oprah show but I will mention the other project: My mom asked me to create a design for Dad’s gravestone. The shock and intensity of his diagnoses and death last year along with my father’s wishes to be cremated and buried in the Nebraska town where he was born resulted in a family decision to postpone the funeral until this summer. So I spent all of Memorial Day in my studio drawing embellishments for my parent’s memorial stone. Hummingbirds for dad and roses for mom – my parent’s memorial marker was an emotionally weighty task.
Last week was the anniversary of Father’s death. The “replay” button in my mind has been stuck playing difficult passages from those last weeks with him – as if it had just happened. Grief can be like that. I believe the lack of ritual and closure intensified feelings not-yet expressed. I spent the anniversary of his death (June 2) with mom. We went to lunch and spent the afternoon together. That evening I was at the Museum of the Rockies hosting an event for which last year I was a featured artist. Last year the fanfare evening honoring myself and other artists took place the day after my father died. I went directly from viewing his body at the funeral home to the museum for the exquisite event– what a blur. Being back at the museum on the anniversary of his death for the same event intensified the emotion and memories although this time I enjoyed promoting other artists rather than being the subject myself.
My moodiness seems on par with Momma Nature this spring. Impressively dramatic and “switchy” with her spring wardrobe, Mother Nature buried us in snow over Memorial weekend and continues the drama with booming thunderstorms, popping hail storms, drizzly rain and bits of sunshine. I don't mind her moodiness but would prefer less drama on my part. Darn it – I’ve been a bit of a wreck. BUT I find solace in the children and in venturing outdoors (ok – maybe the hailstorm that nailed me yesterday while mountain biking wasn’t exactly comforting but something about being chilled to the bone and humbled by nature can lighten the emotional load). I recently broke through the creative block with the dog sculpture (photos to come). The memorial stone will be etched tomorrow and placed this week. I will pack tonight, scoop Mom up along with Dad's ashes and take off in their o'l Lincoln Continental Town Car to begin the journey to my father's birthplace in Nebraska. The graveside funeral is Friday.
sunshine and snow flurries
Wound up and worried about my mother, Paul suggested I leave the studio for some air. I stoked the wood stove with scraps and headed out on a hike up the mountain with him. Admiring the fresh green stuff sprouting everywhere, Paul said, “Looks like winter has lost its hold.” Just then (and I mean just as he finished his sentence) it started snowing. Honest. We got pelted with white stuff until we topped out in the “Sound of Music Meadow” where super tough yet delicate looking wildflowers have begun to show off. Bold defiant bits of bright color hovered close to the green ground and the snow bounced all around us. A little over a week ago I post-holed knee deep through large sections of snow on the same hike. Today the snow patches are simply little “patchlets” that can be walked around. We stood at the edge of the meadow above a ravine and looked through the snow flurry toward the valley at the engorged Yellowstone River below. Roads, highways, and the interstate surrounding Livingston are closed due to flooding - springtime drama in the Rockies.
Now I sit at my desk in the office studio. The fire crackles. The sun shines. I can see clouds unleashing more snow yonder above the Crazy Mountains. I feel like the sky – a mix of sunshine and shadows, fluffy clouds and daunting heavy grey cloud banks. Sleep deprived and a bit overwhelmed, I could easily curl up under a quilt in the nap room and sleep away the afternoon. But the deadline for two commissions looms. Then too – like the clear patches of blue and sunshine – I have a focused direction and creative mission for my own work once I complete the commission. The commission is a bit like the lingering winter weather, a storm in the way of bright light blue sky creativity. I have a bad case of “spring fever” right here – inside. Another snow flurry or two (or three) and then some mud to navigate. Meanwhile, I appreciate the defiant tough wildflowers and each little lick of sunshine that beams between storms.
jumbled fizz and feathers
Yesterday I enjoyed a sweet scrumptious day ALONE in my new studio for the first time. Ahhhh!! I love to watch the sun come up from my cozy cabin before walking through the woods with Zaydee to the studio. I love being alone up here. I love LOVE LOVE my new studio!!! Where to start? Of course there are two commissioned sculptures which I have begun but vivid images and the feelings left from the “dead duck” experience entice me to explore (see post below). The “feathers stuffed in my chest” feeling has gagged my innards and crunched my soul frequently during the past months. Strange that I felt jammed with chest hurting sadness between moments of elation when the studio of my dreams was being built. Similarly, the horrific “THWAP” duck death contrasts with an odd beauty held in my memory of the scene in the rear-view mirror that morning- white feathers swirling like frenzied fairies in sunlight. Only now, after a day alone on the mountain and in my studio do I realize just how much the dry fluff stuffed pain in my chest comes simply from my need for solitude, my love of sky and the overwhelming desire to be settled into a space and place creating. I need freedom to explore without stuffing huge armloads of emotion down my throat to hold tight behind lungs and I prefer to be alone without interruption during much of the process. Chaos exists inside thus I desire a sense of place and a settled down-ness around me before opening Pandora’s Box.
I am overwhelmed. A zillion thoughts, ideas, images, and impulses fizz inside like a soda can bounced three miles down the rocky road from my cabin to the river - ready to explode. Carefully tap. Tap. Tap. Breath. Release a teeny tiny bit – Open. Sputter. Spew.
bump in the road
I hit a duck while driving to Mom’s. Broke my heart. The shiny green-headed little bugger just ran out in front of me…then tried to run faster with neck stretched, wings flapping feverishly. I sucked in my breath and slammed on the breaks. Heart in my throat but full of hope I glanced into the rear-view mirror. A cloud of white feathers swirled chaotically in the early morning sunshine. Gulp. My tummy and chest felt like all of those feathers and the duck itself had been stuffed down my throat. DAMN!
Double damn. I have an especially horrific ghost in the dark closet of memories involving unavoidable car carnage. Maybe I will write from that closet someday but for now I would like to think of the magic metallic glistening green Momma Nature bestows on the heads of male ducks. I will create a piece and homage to the little critter – glitter and all.