[embed]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WMQJYV4CRK0&feature=youtu.be[/embed] My goodness we have SO much catching up to do!!!! I would love to ramble all about the wonderful experience of this sweet little documentary - from being discovered (crazy story involving dinosaurs and cowboys) to being asked (what an honor to be included in a series about people inspired by their Montana surroundings). Then too - there is the day I spent with the young bright talented film makers. But l'll let this short sweet documentary "do the talking..."
Mother's Day
I am a mother to my mom during this chapter; buttoning the glitzy young-girl-size blue jeans she is so proud of but can't put on herself. Her tiny little 83 pound shaky body bore me back when she had two beautiful small breasts instead of scars. My heart is split open with love and sadness, gratitude and grief, acceptance and duty.
Every day is Mother's Day, each day a different version of the being I knew and gently (but with fire) embrace.
Apollo
A blaze of color, "Apollo" is one of the sculptures featuring a patina bird skull and feathered niche as part of my recent small reliquary series.
Springtime in the Rockies
Momma Nature is moody this time of year. Yesterday was flip flop weather but today is not the best morning for the studio zip line. Tala LOVES the snow (and the rain and the sun and the butterflies and the grouse and the puddles and...Tala loves everything!!!)
A letter from Ted Turner
"As a frequent user of the Gallatin Yellowstone International Airport, I will personally enjoy seeing and using your unique bison bench sculpture there once it has been installed." - Ted Turner
Ted Turner hand-signed the letter and contributed a generous amount toward putting the life-size bison bench sculpture at the airport. Carved originally in black walnut, bronze castings of the sculpture are in a private collections and one museum - all outside Montana. Will be a significant honor to have one of my sculptures greeting people as they arrive to Bozeman. I believe we are in the home stretch of fundraising efforts. If you are interested in being part of the project. Contact me.
And so it begins...
The last three years began with a ritual of creating one palm-size woodland critter sculpture in clay to be cast in bronze. Each January the “critter project” has been a bit of a break from studio life - the sawdust, the BIG projects. Early mornings with tea at my dining room table, the sculptures came to life. The places they’ve traveled to their forever homes is a wondrous sweet thing. Affordable. Solid bronze. Made with love.
But this year I am making an extra little sculpture for a cause. Eaglemount is very near and dear to my heart. Any guesses as to what this lump of clay will become?
Frog for you?
I finally got to take one of these little buggers home (but only until Mother's Day). ;) The palm-size sculpture put a smile on my face yesterday morning as I groggily gathered my gumption to go outside. Super fat wet snowflakes fell heavy on a socked-in morning; my cabin was literally in the clouds. "Frog" grinned up at me from the entryway table as I stumbled out the door for a drive up Paradise Valley - the hot springs in Yellowstone Park sounded like a good idea. The little sculpture sure has a sweet contagious grin...!
Sunny solitude; first ride of the season
Overwhelm threatens to snuff my spirit, pummel my gumption, dampen my vision, break my body and squeeze my heart beyond bearable. But I reach for a slice of sun. I feel gratitude for a healthy strong body that can propel me through exhaustion and gift me with the satisfaction of an afternoon outing. Just the road bike, Momma Nature and myself.
Birds chirped while I dodged the occasional fur-filled coyote poop left on the road. I pedaled up to the scenic frozen lake where I sat on a rock (crazy unusual to be beckoned by warm rocks that are typically buried beneath snow this time of year) but a wonderful place for a few meditative moments. The soul-soothing, bone-warming, heart-heeling ride up Hyalite Canyon helped me muster my gumption and carry on.
Midas
King Midas is known in Greek mythology for his "golden touch." Last year I was commissioned to paint a skull gold for a small reliquary sculpture and then asked to use gold for the reliquary to hold the golden skull. Honestly I was a bit frightened of the power of so much gold in a small sculpture. But of course I commission-to-please so; gold happened. I loved it. I have more exploring with gold to do but meanwhile here is the latest venture (not a commission):
Charcoal drawing
Early one weekend morning I found myself in the studio before sunup with the intention of making a special birthday card. But often my energy can hardly be confined to such a small space (even at that time of day). BIGGER paper was more enticing, charcoal more wonderfully messy than ink and before I knew it a small drawing came into being just as the sun appeared for the day.
Feathering the niche
A few years ago while visiting the Denver Art Museum, one of the zillion treasures on view were a few "feather baskets" in the Native American collection. I thought one of my niches in the great big tree reliquary sculptures would be beautiful lined with feathers... So I stashed a note in my head that day. Early the next morning while drinking tea in a condo on the ski hill I scribbled a note "line with feathers" into my sketchbook. I have about as many ideas for art as the art museum has objects (yup - a zillion). Luckily this is one idea I have begun to explore in my art:
Studio (playtime) for Tala
[embed]https://youtu.be/2p7F1ptVGoU[/embed]
The calm before the storm...
Three carved niches are like three fresh canvases offering endless possibilities. Metallic paint and patinas are a new exploration for me with the skulls. Initially I hesitated to mess with the beautiful bone skulls - their natural state a true thing of beauty. But I am an artist driven by curiosity and willing to push boundaries (even willing to make mistakes). Thus - a new venture with color on bone...
Feathers and gold...
The smell of fresh sawdust and puppy breath...
The studio is a fine fun BIG playground for Tala. She's found a zillion ways to entertain herself (and keep me on my toes). But when she settles down for a nap - it is at my feet.
Precious moments as we learn how to work together...
Between chapters...
I can't mix the sawdust part of creation with the staining and feathering stages. Someday I plan to add onto my studio so that I have a sawdust free space for working on the smaller projects. But for now I simply embrace the fact that my creative process has chapters. The process of cleaning up sawdust before working with color has its benefits. The studio and my mind go through a kind of alchemic "clearing" between stages.
The sharp end of the rope (last day on ice)
Ahhh....ice.....! Once again the season was MUCH too short. Certainly I have never gotten to climb too much ice in one season but warm temps brought an unusually early end to the season.
Sigh
The "sharp end of the rope" is a climbing term that refers to whomever is leading the climb since that is more challenging and potentially more dangerous than following. The rewards of climbing on the "sharp end of the rope" are similar to what I experience in the studio when I push myself beyond fear and doubt while creating. Leading several pitches of super wet ice gave me a physical, mental and spiritual "high" - a bold electric feeling of confidence that is just what I need right now while forging through an exceptionally challenging chapter of caring for my mother. Thankful for the gifts of Momma Nature and adventure...!
Studio Assistant
Tala got hold of a pastel drawing I stored in a drying rack that was "puppy proof" last week but she's grown tall enough overnight to reach new places...
Through another's lens
A buddy from New Zealand visited recently. One of the photos he took while here offers a black and white glimpse of my life on the mountain...
Reliquaries Exhibit
I was asked if I would participate in a local show featuring reliquaries created by artists. I was even asked politely if I would mind having a group show inspired in part by my own work with reliquaries. I assured the curator that I did not by-any-means claim the term "reliquary" and I would by-all-means be honored to join the exhibit. The word "reliquary" is an architectural term meaning "house for a relic." I decided to use the opportunity to exhibit my first carved tree reliquary sculpture titled "Secret Miracles at Work."
Here is a statement about the first series of reliquary sculptures shown in a solo exhibition at Paris Gibson Museum of Art:
I remember looking intently into the gilded gold and glass reliquary for the relic…the knucklebone of a saint. I don’t remember if I was amused or disappointed. The reliquary consisted of a box inside a box, inside a box, and sat on a stand which must have weighed a ton for all of the gold and glob. Detailed with exquisite craftsmanship but overdone…like a wedding cake which struggles under the weight of more frosting than substance. Slender spun threads held the bone. The attempted illusion of magical suspension seemed comically befitting the odd juxtaposition of pomp and filigree which housed a dull dark dusty bone…the object of veneration. I was seventeen…impressed not so much by the object than by the idea of the object. I was told that thousands of people made pilgrimages to this place to visit the relic. A cathedral was built to house the reliquary which housed the relic…money exchanged hands, artisans made a living and believers made offerings in light of the artifact of a bone left behind by a saint.
Fascinating.
I have experienced spiritual epiphanies in nature-made cathedrals. Moments of soul-bearing insight have come to me bereft of pomp…totally unexpected and usually without a pilgrimage. One such moment occurred the summer after college while alone in the backcountry as a wilderness ranger. Memories of that summer are pleasantly woven together from an endless array of eye-pleasing images…a subtle wash of untainted colors instantly calming in a solitude enriched time of contentment. Damp dark nights, dewy mornings, snow-capped peaks, deep blue glacier lakes and moss adorned cold creaks blend together on a canvas pungent with aroma…the rich mixed smells of spring and the dry hot singular smell of dust in the mid-summer air.
One memory leaps from the canvas of that summer with intensity beyond the pleasant harmonic spread of sound, smell, and color. The epiphany happened unexpectedly at the base of a tree. Struck by lightning, the tree stood twisted and torn, dead and alive, insistently bold and strikingly humble. Sap ran like tears. Crimson red streaked the black charred trunk. Nakedly exposed dead limbs savagely intermingled with the tender life-bearing leaf-filled branches. Passionate clinging …survival …acceptance …love and loss …all wrapped into the trunk of a tree made more beautiful by the scars… more majestic in its humility. I was awestruck. The powerful mixed message struck my soul and blazed my heart…charred and scarred. Instant communion… I felt deeply ALIVE.
I cried.
The ordinary made extraordinary…a relic holds more power for me than an idol. Existence based in experience rather than an image made in the likeness of something other. The energy emanating from a relic or the care given to a reliquary both have the potential to be captivating. The fortuitous spirit I witnessed that afternoon touched twisted triumphant places in my own soul. Split. Relic and reliquary. Raw and adorned. Shockingly disturbing and deeply comforting. Tragic and triumphant.
I embrace life with its contradictions and plunge headlong into the marvel. I offer these sculptures as pages torn from a journal of my journey. Think of them as leaves dropped from my tree to walk among quietly or dance around venomously. Tip toe. Skip. Lounge. Laugh. Raise an eyebrow. Ask a question. Nap. Cry. Crinkle the leaves between the fingers of your mind or let your soul chuckle with the crispy crunch of them underfoot.
I did.
(exhibit can be viewed at The Frame Garden until the end of the month)