Amber Jean's Blog

drawing from life

Fingertips blackened, eyes sharpened, a soul-settling satisfaction and post-meditative state of mind result when I draw from life.  I had almost forgotten…

But lucky for me, the desire to draw from a model is strong enough to create a weekly 3 hour session open to any of the many artists who live here (and come from neighboring towns) to scratch, dab and color their way in a fleeting attempt to capture life, light and flesh.   Well over a decade ago I actually hosted such sessions in the studio I temporarily inherited from Freeman Butts – a fitting tribute to the artist for whom I was lucky enough to pose.  For fourteen years I happily played muse for his big bold brush strokes along with a gaggle of local gals, many of whom I found for him and coaxed to his model stand.

I remember now – the pull of a pose.  The work.  The play.  I am rusty.  Unpracticed but no-less-enthusiastic and infinitely grateful that despite a decade and half of lapsed attendance, the invitation to join the sessions and draw never ceased.  But it took the enthusiasm of a life-drawing newbie to rekindle my own.  Thanks Audrey!

One of my father's army buddies sent me this photo of my family last week.

So here I am on the other side of my mother’s estate sale: plumb tuckered, wrung out and emotional.  Stress, grief and responsibility tromped on my soul with muddy boots.  Emotional housekeeping can wear out a person.  Tidy up I must.  Oddly enough, making a mess in the studio is one way to clean up the muck and mud left by the physical and emotional chore of settling my mother into a new home and bringing an end to the chapter she shared with my father at the “Huffine House.”  She is sad.  We both grieve.  My father’s beloved shop and ashtray collection exist no more.  People walked away from my parents’ home with their arms full.  The place is picked clean.  Life cycles and circles – my own father was one of those bargain seeking auction goers.  He would brag for weeks about deals snatched at estate sales.  Understandably, it is a different perspective as a seller rather than a buyer.  Mom and I have to shake it off and count our blessings.

I can finally return to the sawdust making part of my life for the first time in a month.   The monumental task of preparing my mother’s house for an estate sale and auction slurped up my time.   Here is a confession:  My father’s presence has shifted somehow.  I realize now that Dad existed largely at the old place.  As the reality of the auction settles in, I find myself disoriented by the feeling that his spirit is unsettled.  Dad is looming.  Unblinking.  I am not used to him here on my mountain or in my studio.  I am a bit at a loss…

hooked on ice!

Austin and I at the top of Green Gully

Austin is a delightful bright sparkle of a young being and the daughter of a dear friend of mine.  Last summer she discovered rock climbing.  I enjoyed the pleasure of taking her out for an evening on rock – and while teaching, talking and climbing – I mentioned ICE.  She was intrigued, joined the rock climbing team at Yale and recently while home for Christmas break she desperately wanted to try ice climbing.  We spent an afternoon up Hyalite Canyon where Austin learned the basics until the sun set soft and pink.  After driving down the canyon in the dark we stopped at a local bookstore so that she could pick up the latest issue of the Alpinist magazine where a large multi-feature spread was focused on Hyalite Canyon –truly a special mecca for the sport right here in our own “backyard” (near Bozeman).

Austin caught the ice climbing bug and wanted more.  We decided to get out again closer to home in what is truly our “own backyard” and I promised Austin an adventure so we climbed up Pine Creek Canyon in Paradise Valley a few days into the New Year.  Austin spent quite a bit of her holiday break chasing mountain lions with her father so she was totally up for the hike and the climb up the steep slope to Green Gully – a 180’ hunk of frozen ice sandwiched between beautiful cathedral looking purplish and green rock.  Now I only got out ice climbing a handful of times last winter and the season before that I was recuperating from major surgery and couldn’t climb at all.  I stood at the base of the falls geared up for my first lead in several years – psyched and nervous.  Sixty feet off the ground connected to ice by two points on my crampons and two axes is when the panic began its insidious (but life preserving) clutch on my innards and the noisy monkeys in my mind chattered more boisterously.  “What made you think you could lead something this big after a long hiatus from ice?!”  “Did you see how far it is to the ground?!  Did you see how much further you have to go to the top??!!”

Getting off the ground - my first lead in 3 years

Deep breath.  Focus.  Climb.  Quiet the monkeys…

I decided to quit looking down.  I kept climbing.  Placing ice screws for protection every 25 feet or so, I ran out of screws a ways from the top -thus increased focus and determination to “top out” without any mishaps.  The ice was a bit thin up there.  I placed my ax points carefully.  I climbed over the top without feeling wiped out or plumb tuckered.  I clipped into the anchor and set up the belay for Austin, mindful of the mechanics and safety warm from the climb.  Now it was Austin’s turn to follow me up the ice – the 60 meter rope between us was stretched the full length – somehow looking up at the falls is quite misleading on how tall they actually are.Austin was far below where I couldn’t see her but luckily she could hear me shout encouragement.  I watched the sky with a bit of apprehension knowing it would be dark soon.  Austin took longer than I expected but then – she was a total newbie.  Her progress was slow but steady, I began to feel the cold seep in and Austin kept whacking away at the ice with her tools and crampons.

Tuckered but BEAMING – she joined me at the top of the falls, eager to snap pictures, full of exclamations at the view and pumped from the rush of her first full-on adventure on ice.  While she took in the scenery, I prepared the rappel…anxious to beat the waning light.  A big BOLD beautiful nearly full moon instantly lit our way as we slid and scrambled down the steep gully to the creek where we found a log to scooch across – chattering in the dark.

Austin is back at Yale but emailed recently exclaiming our day climbing Green Gully was the highlight of her Christmas vacation.  She is psyched and empowered by her climb.  I feel the same about my own bold lead after a long hiatus from my favorite sport.  I have launched into 2012 feeling more fit, focused and stronger than I have in years!  WAHOO!!!

sunday soak

Sami , Jake, Ali, Cliff and I celebrated the bright winter moon by hiking to Leroy’s Lookout Saturday night.  Moon shadows danced on the ice and frozen dirt beneath our feet – a remarkable contrast to the deep snow this time last year.  We chattered all the way up the mountain happy and psyched the steep hike no longer seemed challenging to the kids – who no longer have to stop for breaks.  Cliff had the wee little o’l cabin toasty warm when we got there.  The place is literally cabled to the rocks on a peak above the Yellowstone River – which glittered in the moon lit valley below us while the Crazy Mountains glowed on the horizon.

The warm inviting pink sunrise inspired us to pack towels and hot pastry turnovers before zipping up Paradise Valley for a soak in the Boiling River.  Just inside the boundary of Yellowstone National Park, the hot springs always deliver soothing healing doses of goodness for the heart, soul and body.  We drove back down the valley in a post soak bliss – grinning at the elk, deer and mountain goats as they puttered about lazily enjoying their Sunday afternoon.  The late night hike and the early morning soak certainly fueled our appetites so we scooped up my mom and took her to lunch in Bozeman upon our return to civilization – burgers and waffle fries!  Satiated.

Click here to view a short video: Boiling River

woodchips, sawdust and a boo boo

All in a days work...

One morning last week I had just begun to work in the studio – about 40 seconds of grinding wood with a tungsten carbide wheel on an angle grinder when the one second it takes to injure oneself happened.   Ear protection, a dust mask (purple), anti-vibration gloves to protect against carpal tunnel, my hair pulled back in a ponytail and tucked under a cap… I really was wearing eye protection too but the boo boo happened.  Ok.  So I could have been wearing goggles instead of protective eye glasses but the goggles had gotten scratchy and hard to see through. 

OUCH!

Wood found its way into my left eye.  I rinsed it out with water since I hadn’t remembered to replace the eye wash in my studio first aid kit.  When it became evident that I couldn’t keep the eye open and work, I duct taped some wadded tissue over the eye, put on goggles along with the rest of my safety gear and tried to get back to work.  Both eyes were watering enough to quench the thirst of a potted plant.  I tried rinsing again, repatched the eye, called Cliff who was returning from town and asked him to bring me some soothing eye drops.  Then I tried to grind again but I couldn’t see through the non-stop tears.  I lay down for an hour in my studio nap room with the soothing drops in my eyes but as the pain and symptoms persisted it became apparent that I would have to see a doctor.

“You really did a number on your eye!” she said from the other side of the magnifying eye apparatus.  “Looks like a bear clawed your cornea in a crosshatch pattern.”  She flipped my eyelid inside out and removed a piece of wood stuck there before putting a patch on my eyeball.  Yup.  You read that correctly.  My eyeball was “bandaged” with a large clear contact lens looking thing.  I left her office with blurry vision, minus a $120 doctor bill, a $100.00 bottle of antibiotic eye drops and relief.  Phew!!  Luckily eyes heal rather quickly.  The pain persisted for a few days and one week later the vision is slightly more blurry than the right eye.  So the injury happened at the tail of 2011.  I have begun 2012 with a NEW pair of unscratched goggles, a fresh bottle of eye wash is in my first aid cabinet and my safety awareness kindly rekindled.

polar plunged into the new year!

Brrrr! Post plunge into Swan Lake

What better way to bring in the New Year than a vigorous life-affirming dive past the ice into a COLD Montana mountain lake?!  The heart leaps with a powerful punch – jump starts underwater followed by a mad dash and splash through the water back to the snowy shoreline where the dogs are excitedly barking (perhaps cheering me on or shouting orders to get back to shore and safety?!) Dry towel, flannel pants, socks, slippers, hat and coat…

Everything zings and tingles!  Yes…it kind of hurts…mostly my fingers and toes when the feeling comes back but luckily my buddy Yogi’s sauna was waiting for us.  He lives right near the lake.  The “Polar Plunge” is an annual New Year’s Day ritual for many zany people and cultures.  An invigorating purge and launch into 2012!!!

jake’s reliquary

Reliquary by Jake

“I’m going to make a series!” Jake announced shortly after he finished creating this fabulous reliquary sculpture. He found the log months ago while helping us clean up from the studio building project. Jake began the process of burning the piece after he acquired my permission to use the torch. Just last Saturday Jake and I spent a dedicated morning together in the studio working on his sculpture. The rattlesnake tail came from a very unlucky reptile that ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time last summer. Jake and I dug around Cliff’s freezer to find the tail (along with the whole snake skin) where Cliff had been saving it for Jake (and for this project specifically). Jake is still trying to decide what to name his sculpture but “flames” and “rattle” are two words that keep getting tossed around. He is plotting his series telling me about other objects which carry special meaning for him.  Jake just turned 11 last week.

I don’t know who is more proud – Jake or me…?

a”buffed-a-lo”

Projects abound.  Duties never cease.  Inspiration overflows.  Momma Nature beckons.  I simply need more time each day!

What a great pair! My bench and Ted Turner's jet!

Just when and where do I fit in good “blog  time” to share with you?!!  I have begun work on a brand new small sculpture series.  Challenging good stuff (well …we have yet to see if the “stuff” is actually any good but I can tell you that it feels good to finally be settled into my space; hunkered down making marks on wood and flinging sawdust into the air.

Ahhhhh…..!!!

“Sojourn” the bronze bison bench visited my new studio last week.  The sculpture spent a portion of the year at the Bozeman Jet Center.  I brought him home to clean and polish.  Plenty of wax and a good buff’n have the life size buffalo looking sharp and ready to participate in the Livingston outdoor sculpture project.  He will “keep court” in front of the local post office once I have the bolts welded to steel mounting plates.  Quite a few years have passed since the long days spent carving this bugger in Black Walnut.  Lordy I put a “hurt down upon my body” during that creative carving marathon which included a five gallon bucket of ice to plunge my hands and forearms into so that I could continue carving night and day.  The original carving is in a private collection in New Mexico.  The limited edition bronzes have found homes in one museum and a few private collections from Arizona to Ohio.  The “buffed-a-lo” will soon be installed in front of the Post Office but he is still up for adoption!!!