Sculpting a creative life
Halloween arrived with loads of sunshine. I’d saved my urge to climb a peak until artist Stephanie Revenaugh returned from weeks of shows so that we could share “post-show summit therapy” together. Perfect way to reconnect with each other, talk about our passions, plot business, vent, ground and regroup with the aid of Momma Nature after each of us put in grueling weeks away at shows.
This is how we rest…
"The mountains were still to me a temple, where I went not to pray, but to feel the touch of the infinite."
The lovely quote was written by a nineteenth-century prostitute whose eloquent autobiography "Madeleine" surprised me with moments of spirit-kinship. I finished the book early this morning at sunrise - which now occurs after I get home from 6 am yoga. The days are freakishly shorter upon my return after the month-long Artprize endeavor. Pre-yoga dramatic sunrises have been replaced by bold stars and crisp cold. The embrace of my cozy little cabin home in the mountains beneath an expansive ever-changing sky is tonic to a soul wearied by recent endeavors.
I took a much-needed off-grid sabbatical after my return from Grand Rapids two weeks ago. The life of a full-time artist/solo entrepreneur so far as I've managed involves plenty of hyper-long days but I have never put myself through such an extremely demanding marathon of a public event. The added intensity of being in the world's largest art prize competition was excruciating (just being honest). Nineteen 14-hour days of standing next to my sculptures sharing, opening, revealing, giving, receiving, observing, explaining and smiling.
Good to be home...!
Moved to tears yesterday when a man named Joe approached me. He said he had visited my installation the day before, heard me talk to others about the sculptures, went home, watched my TED talk and "got an epiphany" which compelled him to gift me a sweet set of router bits as a gift compelled by my passion. "Thank-you for your rose garden" was written inside the wooden box carefully wrapped in a small padded cooler with bottled water for me. Blinking back tears, I drifted upstairs to settle myself into a wingback chair near the giant chandelier above the reliquary sculptures - a puddle of emotions - feeling so much from people here at Artprize
The past five days are a bit of a blur shared with thousands of art-seeking peeps. Amongst the heart touching, soul tugging, authentic and affirming connections are plenty of simply entertaining sweet bits of people watching.
Dozens of stories are piled on top of each other; some are melting together in rich gooey feel-goodness as people share their excitement, awe and appreciation for the sculptures. I have much to share – but seriously little time or energy after spending my mornings, afternoons and evenings at the Amway Grand Plaza Hotel. Today I was moved-to-tears more than once as people hugged me, brought gifts, shared their stories, insights and gratitude for the work I do.
Humbled with gratitude…
Between taking down the “I Never Promised you a Rose Garden” installation at the Billings Clinic a little over a week ago and installing the same sculptures in Grand Rapids, MI for Artprize two days ago, a whole thick long-winded chapter of drama with epic twists and turns has occurred. Crazy good-weather luck blessed my crew despite an early season snowstorm/blizzard on the day of the un-install. A few days later, an outrageous blood red bold moonrise beamed “all will be well” energy during a middle of the night rescue mission when I drove across Montana in a borrowed truck belonging to someone I have never met when friends (and a friend-of-a-friend) pulled together to help the sculptures continue on their journey to Michigan after my truck broke down when Cliff was hundreds of miles into the 1500 mile journey. Four a.m. Wednesday I met the crew after a sleepless night to drive to Bozeman, catch a few planes and pull off an all-night-with-dramatic-twists install. A lifetime passed and a few grey hairs may have sprouted in an unbelievably long chapter squished between 2 sunsets but I am full of gratitude for a faithful crew and a "big picture" which seems wiser than the attachments felt along the way. Things happen for a reason…
I am short on photos but long on good feelings about the synchronicity and good grace that got the sculptures settled into their beautiful location at the Amway Grand Plaza Hotel.
Only nine out of eighteen sculptures are left. But you can see twelve of them together in a beautiful inviting good-energy place by visiting the Wheatgrass Saloon in Livingston. The opportunity to have an exhibit in my own lovely town is a rare treat
Zaydee hasn’t been on every mountain bike ride since some are simply too long, hot and arduous for a dog but for twelve years she has been my enthusiastic faithful companion on most rides. She gets excited when I pull on padded shorts. She flips out at the trailhead when I gear up to go. Together we have covered hundreds of miles of single track. But at something around 14 years old (she is adopted) – she is showing her age. She can’t even keep up with me when I go for a run (and I am hardly a “runner”). We are coming to grips with this transition. I find myself full of gratitude for what we have shared and guilt for leaving her behind.
Carhartt photographer Jennifer just left my studio after a sawdusty shoot – a sweet gal with a cool job hopping about the country photographing women for the blog “Crafted in Carhartt” about “women who do amazing things.” Carhartt sponsored me nearly two decades ago – before they made clothes for women – in fact my studio work clothes closet is full of Carhartt bib overalls (which are hard to wear out despite the gazillion hours I work in them. I added a “vintage” Carhartt cap from my closet to the photo shoot ensemble. Pretty fun to get some new “girlie” duds and turn Carhartt onto two other awesome Carhartt women; Stephanie Revennaugh and Ona Magaro. Jennifer was totally “wowed” by my studio – said it was absolutely the best studio she has visited during her year+ photographing for Carhartt. Will share photos when I have them…
<iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/g2PkphVSJQQ" frameborder="0" allow="autoplay; encrypted-media" allowfullscreen> Someone from the Oprah network contacted me about a show called, “Fearless Women.” I laughed and admitted that I am anything but fearless. I told them they should name their show “Gals with Gumption” to honor those of us who pursue our passions despite our fears. The result is this five-minute segment about my life and work.
I love hearing from collectors after one of my artworks enters their collection. "Rain Takes Off Her Clothes" - one of the recent Neruda Series sculptures was celebrated with a bottle of wine when it arrived at the home of collectors according to the email art-love-note. Sweet.
A week ago I skipped away for the better part of a day to enjoy my own “backyard” – the Crazy Mountains.
Last week two sculptures left “the flock” for their new homes. Several more are sold and waiting for delivery since the collectors were kind enough to allow me to show their sculptures in Jackson last month. The “Neruda Series” of mini reliquaries – a total of 18 sculptures – were created during an especially challenging spell of severe insomnia. Each week for several months I averaged between 20-22 hours of sleep; deprivation that taxed my body and soul til I felt like pummeled pieces except when I was creating.I left the business part of art behind and focused on the new creations and sought help from various professionals to find my way back to sleep. All of the sculptures have titles inspired by Pablo Neruda's love poems.
“Fiesta of Sunset” is a bright flaming-with-feathers sculpture and would be hard to give up so quickly except it went to the fabulous creative art-filled home belonging to one of my collectors. Together we celebrated with drinks and chocolate after I arrived with the sculpture. The opportunity to personally deliver and know the people who “adopt” my creations means much to me. The Neruda Series fueled me with the inspiration I needed to survive an especially difficult chapter and spawned a zillion new ideas for future series.
I can't wait to get back to the mess-making soul-feeding creative part of my life!
I heard wings above my head - right after I closed my eyes - three breaths into a mediation on top of my mountain. Zaydee and I were on the edge of the canyon next to the "Sound of Music" meadow. A hawk. Large. Close. Gracefully soaring around and around Zaydee and I. Crazy beautiful close. Then another - two raptors chortled and swooped. Magic. Then another and another and another joined - like Sunday church service - dipping and calling, circling the canyon above and below me. Wing sounds in air. Swish. Sunlight through feathers stretched impressively long. The original hawk hovered close, its beak dipped each time the bird looked directly at Zaydee or me. I half expected it to dive-bomb Zaydee; so close it dropped each time it circled. The raptors seemed to want attention, revel in currents as Zaydee and I watched. I thought to meditate beneath their shadows but they left when I dropped my gaze and closed my eyes. Blessed.
After spending much of the week wearing Carhartts at the National Wildlife Art Museum as the Artist in Action, it was a nice change to put on a dress and heels to attend the gala event "Rise of the Fenix" hosted by Amy Ringholz (the following week’s Artist in Action).
What a trip for me to leave the solitude of my studio at the end of the road near the top of a mountain for a week of sharing tools and inspiration with people of all ages! Jackson is a magical place nestled in the well-muscled arms of Momma Nature on steroids. The National Museum of Wildlife Art is a grand stone castle-like animal art dream world. My days began with early morning mountain bike rides up Cache Creek near my dear friend Leslie’s house (she hosted Zaydee and I for the week). The museum hosted a special event artist’s talk with an impressive turn out and so much fun!!!
The best part of my work at the museum was connecting with, inspiring and empowering people. I love to see a light go on when people handle a power tool for the first time! Hard to pick a favorite moment but one of my many enduring memories was with a matronly southern belle decked out in broad brimmed hat and bling who had never had a power tool in her hand but took after it with all the gumption of a baseball pro hitting a home run. I didn’t think she was going to leave a significant chunk of wood uncarved – she kept at it with gusto.
What a fine fun opportunity and a grand week spent in the shadow of the Tetons.
Chomp. Chomp. Chomp.The sound of munching came from behind the fridge; obviously an uninvited guest. While the disturbing sound of a critter enjoying a picnic in my cabin is in itself not exactly unusual, the fact that it was mid-morning, thus broad daylight did add a level of ballsy-ness that warranted investigation.
A chipmunk.
Bold bugger. Cute. Maybe it relied on its cuteness to excuse its obvious lack of manners. Too small for the live trap. Too fast for me. Maya (the cat) was still digesting most of a mouse from dining out in her nightly forest foray. Oblivious.
With duct tape and scissors I began to fashion a contraption to help me catch the chipmunk but after one prodding poke with my zebra-stripe broom handle I realized stupidly that the bugger possessed a Cirque du Soliel skill set that would make any attempts at catch-and-release impossible. I sent an intention to the Universe to spare the cutie-pie from my cat, opened two screenless windows and left the chipmunk alone. I hoped the chipmunk wouldn't make an appearance later that afternoon while entertaining a few visiting collectors, or worse - a bloody battle once Maya slept off her mouse hangover. A swift blur zipped past me now and then, fluffy tail fluttering and more-than-once I heard a knick knack crash to the wood floor but luckily the guest parted for greener pastures on its own leaving only a few little tiny turds behind.
Next week the sculptures will be going to the National Museum of Wildlife Art in Jackson, WY where I am an artist in residence from July 7-11.
A whole new series and scale kept me sequestered in the studio for months.
I am sooooo excited about the new works….!
Influenced by Native American feather baskets I saw in the Denver Art Museum a few winters ago, the niches are “feathered.” My recent obsession with old barbwire continues to weave itself into the art along with a life-long fascination with animal skulls. The result is a new series of eighteen sculptures titled with lines from Pablo Neruda’s prose.
Big switch from sawdust - sweeping up feathers is a comedy - vivid elusive and joyful.
Of course they can be vacuumed up but that kinda kills the fun of spinning in my Carhartts with swirling confetti fluff-ness...
Cold mornings. Cold nights. Dramatic storms. Fire in the studio stove each day. Rain patters or pours on the metal roof of either my studio or cabin. The forest floor gushes green-ness and pushes wildflowers skyward. The aroma doesn't just tickle your nose - it swooshes in and fills lungs, heart and soul with a hint of heaven all wrapped up in earth. I LOVE springtime in the Rockies!!!
I encourage you to visit Doug Loneman's photography