If you were a door - what kind of door would you be?
Let there be light...
Thankful for good light today (still wearing long underwear but at least I could shed two down layers and the fleece/wool Carhartt hat). Brave little buds have begun to appear in trees and on the ground much to my relief -helpful encouragement after an unusually delayed spring.
A rabbit for a prince
I leapt into the project the morning after my arrival as if jet lag wouldn't catch me. The weather has been unseasonably COLD since my arrival in Bhutan. After two days at the job site finishing the panel with the snow leopard I carved last year, I got sick. But I continued carving the little rabbit cheered me up as I struggled to carve in the cold with a cold and very little good light. [embed]https://youtu.be/Hgv5N6RvwHU[/embed]
Asha Kama
Last year while in Bhutan I read about the painter Asha Kama, fell in love with his work and was heartened by his commitment to public service. Determined to meet Asha Kama I asked around. Yesterday my dream came true via my dear friend Dilu. I haven't a clue just were to start gushing about my visit to VAST (the only contemporary art center in Bhutan which is also dedicated to interactive social community programs). Asha means "uncle" - even the king addresses Kama with the special distinction of "uncle" because of all he has done for the youth and elderly in Bhutan. Uncle indeed...! Asha Kama is a powerhouse and a delight. I look forward to fostering our friendship and doing what I can to support the lively youth and stellar vision of VAST.
Time warp in Bhutan
Two weeks have leapt, spun, crawled, tickled and tortured me since I left Montana to embark on the second chapter in the carving project for the king of Bhutan. Time is a trickster.
Can I just say...."PHEW?!" Today is my first day off since I arrived. Unseasonable cold, wet and snowy weather challenged me to the max since I am carving outdoors and have only natural light to see by (not because electricity and light don't exist in Bhutan but because the only artificial light source is florescent which doesn't work at all when carving relief - besides the fact that florescent light literally makes me crazy). I woke my third morning here with a nasty cold after two bone-chilling long carving days. Luckily the cold waited until after dinner with the governor in his home before it clutched my innards, clogged my lungs and zapped my bones.
But I kept carving. I even crammed two sawhorses into my room to carve with more warmth in near darkness next to the window while snow blew sideways outside.
Magic, happiness and soul food are fast friends in this magical kingdom. But a few days ago I found myself pushed to a tender edge - raw and emotional. Fragile. I desperately needed a break before I broke. My dear friend Dilu offered me refuge at the splendid Druk Hotel which he manages in Thimphu. After a breath-taking and life-threatening 3 hour steep narrow mountainous ride I arrived weary and teary in Thimphu to the delight of finding a claw foot TUB in my room. Sweetness and relief (tubs are rare here). I awoke early this morning cocooned in sumptuous comforting sheets, serenaded by city dogs enthusiastically barking their Sunday morning "revival meeting." I am calmed by the elegant beauty and healing tones in my spations well-lit warm room - full of gratitude. This gift of a room is like a light sponge cake slice of heaven. Pure delight.
The next chapter in Bhutan
I left Montana a week ago already (seems like much longer ago). My first post enroute to Bhutan:
The impressive land/snow mass presence of Mount Rainier pumped my spirit with belief and strength as we flew by. Not so long ago I found myself on that summit in borrowed snow gear, rented boots and crampons - my first snow/glacier/mountain summit embarked upon rather blindly as a distraction/reaction to deep grief of suddenly losing my dear dog Shiva. Life presents summits, none of which come by without the not-so-simple ability to put one foot in front of the other in unfamiliar and even extreme conditions while belief and disbelief dance with each other. Powered by the drum beat of persistence. Compelled. Scared. Humbled. Intrigued. Here I go again - not the ice crystal snow ghost mountain but a creative endeavor in a tiny fairytale country undertaken as a gift for a king.
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Fresh from the foundry...
So much "Cliffness" in such a little critter. He would have loved it...!
Nearly half of the edition already pre-sold. Linda (my mother-in-law) is going to take care of shipping bronzes while I chip away in Bhutan on the carving for the king and his family.
Much to explore...
Grandmother's lingerie. Pearlescent paint. Exploring expression of Alzheimer's devastation inside my beautiful mother's mind...
Off to the foundry...!
At last…!
I began this little bugger early last year. I hadn’t planned on creating an owl for 2016 (I had a another critter in mind) but early in the year an owl visited me on a full moon night. I filmed the Great Horned Owl while it sat like a sentinel on top of my beloved tree. Perfect shaped and majestic, the giant Fir tree a picturesque silhouette on starry nights between my bedroom window and the twinkling lights of Livingston below. The tree greeted me each time I drove home to my cabin at the end of the road near the top of this mountain. During the holidays I was always tempted to light it up with a huge star on top for everyone in the valley below to enjoy. We suffered and celebrated more than two decades together. The tree scourged summer after summer by Spruce Bud Worms during the last years.
After a particularly difficult winter for both of us, the tree seemed to bounce back with vigor. That spring it looked better than it had in years and I thought, “We are survivors, you and me, dear tree…we have this…!" Looking back, it is as if the tree rallied for me, knowing I needed a boost and some confidence, I drew strength from its strength.
Then it died.
I hated to ask Cliff to cut it down because Cliff had back and shoulder pain issues; old injuries from his logging days. I complained to Raymond about the negative “Feng Shui” that comes from such a large dead thing in our front yard. But what a perfect perch for a giant owl. The full moon night visit from the owl was poignant. Remarkable. I had a sense it carried a message and thought the message had something to do with my mother - perhaps the owl was letting me know 2016 would be mother’s final year. Raymond asked for Cliff’s assistance to cut the tree down in February as I birthday present surprise while I was in Panama. Of course Cliff made quick business of the tree and landed it perfectly so that it wouldn’t squish any of the young trees sprouting everywhere. Cliff cut the trunk of the tree into perfect rounds which became seats for guests at our wedding. The stumps sit in an Aspen Grove near my studio.
A few months after my return from Panama, Cliff comforted me on the morning I called Hospice for assistance to continue care for my mother in her home. Cliff took mom cookies and then he died on the same day Raymond cut the path in the meadow where Cliff was to walk me down the aisle on my wedding day. An owl perched on the tallest tree next to the Yellowstone River when Raymond, Wynn and I launched a home made flotilla with some of Cliff’s ashes in the moonlight.
Again and again I picked up the little lump of “owlish” clay but I simply could not create. Two weeks ago as I gave a stranded motorist a ride to his home up Paradise Valley, a giant Great Horned Owl owl flew past my truck window and looked directly at me. Those of you who know Cliff know he was legendary for the assistance he gave friends, family and strangers alike. I knew it was time to finish the little owlet. Emotional but healing, the little sculpture began to find itself while a fire crackled in my studio.
I finished the little bugger yesterday. Upon sending a photo to my girlfriend Wynn, she texted, “OMG. It looks like him. Did u do that intentionally?” Honestly I did not...but I felt so much of Cliff while working on his owl that of course “Cliffness” emanates from the owlet.
Crying as I write this, feeling is part of healing topped with gratitude. Not many are gifted with a “Cliff” in their life. He was one-of-a-kind, gentle, strong and damn loyal. The tears are good - the kind of gold that comes from loving and being loved. I felt renewed energy in my step early this morning as Tala and I walked through falling snow to my studio.
Chapter after chapter, critter after critter and plenty of blessings...
Five decades...?!!!
When you get carded at the liqueur store buying goodies to celebrate your 50th birthday AND the memorable weekend away brings lots of warm fuzzies and fond memories shared with my husband (who spoils me) his folks (who are family) and friends (the best). Plus an extra bonus day celebration President's day when twelve girlfriends soaked with me at the Boiling River while wearing lingerie... (lotsa giggles and goosebumps)
Finding himself...
The evening of the day I returned to sculpt the little owl, I went home and promptly got sick. Perhaps sickness walloped me because I actually bragged out loud the day before that I had managed the events, stress and long flights during the past year without getting sick. Not even once...
Then BAM. Crud. Couched.
Maybe it had something to do with returning to the owl?
Little Prince
Crown Prince Jigme Namgyel Wangchuck of Bhutan celebrated his first birthday earlier this month. Of course I included a special critter just for the young prince when I designed the carving for his father the King of Bhutan. Next month I will return to Bhutan to continue the carving project.
Emotional Return
Cliff was especially excited about the little owl sculpture I began last year. Returning to the project has been emotional for me but healing too...
Totally infectious Happiness
Singing - much of the time. Lotsa laughing. The Bhutanese carpenters I work with sing and laugh and laugh and sing. Old people, young people - sing. Totally infectious. I love it. So here is some candid footage of the girls who work at the resort I stayed at: [jwplayer mediaid="4813"]
https://www.facebook.com/rob.ryder2/videos/10155485881084829/
Winter Wonderland
A sharp perfect cutout sliver of moon hung above Livingston like a stage prop yesterday evening as I got in my truck. I had just shared a piece of chocolate cream pie with a girlfriend. We exchanged advise, support and love for each other as we shared current challenges in our lives and the world we live in. I feel lucky to be surrounded by so much beauty and strong supportive friends.
Meet Levi Denham
Bought this bugger Thursday morning in 10 minutes over the phone through a trusted friend (I HIGHLY recommend Phil for any auto-buying needs). Raymond and I left Friday evening for Minneapolis, drove through the night in the old rodeo truck as temps outside dipped more than twenty degrees below zero. I watched an amazing slow motion North Dakota sunrise - the bold sunbeam squeezed skyward by crisp cold air just before the sun blazingly burped into the sky a moment after this photo was shot:
I very quickly bonded with my "new" rig during the 15 hour ride home. Ford calls the color, "Blue Jeans Metallic." Levi seemed an appropriate name and "Denham" happened because I know how much Cliff would have liked this truck. Throughout my twenties, Cliff would tell me to "hurry up and make money Honey so you can adopt a child" - which I alway imagined to be a girl but if it were a boy - I threatened to name the child Levi Denham.
Each of my last two trucks spent nearly a decade with me. I certainly hadn't planned on my truck getting totaled (I put $1200 into having the front end rebuilt less than two hours before a lady ran a stop sign and totaled my truck). I don't believe Levi spent much of his life being a truck but less than 24 hours after bringing Levi home, the truck began its new life by hauling a large sculpture down our steep mountain across icy interstate roads to the Yellowstone Art Museum for an upcoming show and auction.
Home Sweet Home
Oh my goodness. We all need to sit down for a long cup of tea or a big glass of wine as I've sooooo many stories to share...!
I meant to write. Sooner. More often. But lordy life walloped me with complexity at the same time I was whipped with jet lag (much worse jet lag on the return than going over). Just a quickie list to give you an idea:
Studio furnace gasped, sputtered and quit (over and over) a few days before my return from Bhutan. I had to gimp it along, restart and restart the poor bugger while keeping a fire in the stove for the following week. Raymond had to keep blowing our road open for three service visits while we waited for parts during a SUPER cold snap.
No truck. My truck was totaled just a few days before I left for the fairy tale kingdom of Bhutan. I've owned 3 trucks in the last 30 years. Insurance companies and shopping...
Solstice in Yellowstone. What a blessing to be at Old Faithful with my new (OFFICIAL) family for a few days of pure beauty and total delight. The snow coach delivered us back to civilization a day before Christmas Eve.
The holidays. Mix of celebration and mourning. Cliff and mom a big part of my heart and soul.
Lotsa post-holiday life stuff as the sale of my mother's condo was settled, a new (used) truck purchased, some intense post-dog-attack yuckiness in the formal (formidable) world of attorneys and insurance companies, the delivery of a sculpture to the Yellowstone Art Museum and a total (much needed) revamp of my studio.
More (of course) has transpired in the four weeks since my return. I am still processing the magic that happened overseas even as I begin plans for my return.
Yaks...!
Big yak attack just below Cheli La pass. (gosh I love these cute buggers - there is something kind of bunny-like about them...)
Truck Love
"I love the construction trucks" I said to Big Tashi our driver during my first week on the job site in Bhutan. "You should love a man, not a truck" he said.
Sparking possibilities...
She was very shy but circled closer and closer once her brother excitedly told her what I was up to. I'm not certain but several of us us discussed it and believe I am the first female to carve in Bhutan. The beautiful fairytale Himalayan country is impressively embellished by a long history of traditionally trained carvers. One of the caught this candid moment while he was on a ladder outside: