Alaska Artist Residency - Call for Artists!

Kayaking in Prince William Sound, August 2011

If you think the Alaska Artist Residency that I've been going on and on about in this blog sounds like a great experience, believe me, it was! And better still, YOU can apply to be chosen for one of the 7! new opportunities this summer. I still have half a mind to apply for another myself, if I can swing it. So may the best artist win, and here's the info. Your welcome!

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The summer of 2012 will mark the third year of Alaska's Voices of the Wilderness artist residency.  It is modeled after traditional residencies in the national parks…with a twist.  Instead of staying at a remote wilderness cabin, participating artists are paired with a wilderness ranger and actively engaged in stewardship projects, such as research, monitoring, and education. The idea is to give artists a sense of the stewardship behind America’s public lands, fostering an artistic exploration of these natural and cultural treasures. The hoped-for result is artwork that communicates something of the meaning of these lands.

As an artist-in-residence, you will experience the wilderness like few others. Traveling alongside a ranger, you might kayak the calm fiords and camp on glacier-carved shores. There will be plenty of time to sit back in your camp chair and absorb the crackling ice bergs and roaring waterfalls. From the water, you might see a bear foraging among intertidal mussels, or seals hauled-out on the ice. On remote beaches, your steps will mingle with the tracks of wolves, bears, birds, maybe even a mink. The wilderness soundscape will embrace you with the screeches of eagles or the songs of whales. Along the way, you’ll get a peek at what it’s like to care for the land by sharing time with a ranger.

As a volunteer, each artist will assist with some basic ranger duties, which may include boarding a tour boat to provide education, participating in research projects, such as seal counts or climate change studies, walking a beach to remove litter, or other generally light duties. However, an emphasis for the artist will be experiencing the wilderness and exploring how to communicate its inspirational qualities through their artwork.

There are 7 wilderness areas hosting artists in the summer of 2012  — each with different opportunities and varying in length.  Travel to Alaska is the artist’s responsibility.  Participants should plan to arrive in Alaska at least one full day prior to a residency to ensure enough time for safety training. Return travel should be planned for a couple days after a residency, as weather sometimes delays the return from the field.

Completed applications must be postmarked by April 20th. For more information, go to http://www.voicesofthewilderness.blogspot.com/

Photos from my Artist Residency in Alaska

Here are my photos from my Alaska residency, finally!

Girdwood

My digs in Girdwood. I have another post written but blogpress won't let me upload it, so maybe I'll have better luck with this one.

Countdown to Alaska

Looks like the government didn't shut down after all, but at this point it might have been a relief to put it out of its misery. It insists on limping on, however, so rangers will be paid, parks will be open, and I'm still packing for my National Forest Artist Residency in Prince William Sound. I'm also practicing blogging from my iPhone, but am already cheating by editing it on my laptop. In theory I should be able to take photos from my iPhone, write my blog on that tiny little keyboard and post through BlogPress. It actually seemed to work for as long as I could stand working that way, and a download of a Photoshop Lite app solve the photo rotation problem, so I'm good to go. I just need a wifi or verizon connection. That should be no problem in Anchorage, but out in "the field" is another story. So if I suddenly go silent just assume I'm having wild adventures, following grizzly tracks and swimming with killer whales, far, far from civilization. Or 60 miles south of Anchorage. Same thing.

The weather is looking a bit chilly up Whittier way, which is where we launch from, not to mention rainy. But I was warned that it is the rainy season so I'm just going to assume it will be misty and mysterious, which may be another way of saying wet, cold and miserable, but sounds a lot better. Then if the sun breaks through it will be a bonus, and the sun will have plenty of time to peek out, since it won't go down till about 10:30. 

Unfortunately I can't be totally excited about going, since life has a way of throwing curve balls and I don't always remember to duck. My dear father had a bit of a health setback last week and I'm going to feel nervous about going so far from the family. Not that I don't have dozens of wonderful loving and responsible siblings, but I still feel guilty leaving. He's doing better everyday though and has lots of support so I know he will be in good hands. I'll just bombard him with postcards and regale him with Alaska lore when I get back. I hear Alaska is loaded with lore.

Paddling practice

Last weekend I spent a perfect summer day with friend Mary Grady in the sprawling but shallow waters of the Narrow River, logging another 5 hours in the cockpit of a kayak in preparation for my Prince William Sound Residency.   I just might be beginning to get the hang of this.  Which is good since I'm leaving for Anchorage in 19 days. Or so I hope. It occurred to me last week that if the government should shut down due to all the political game playing going on in Washington, the national parks and forests will most likely shut down too. I am trying not to think about it, since everyone says they are just bluffing, but it is nagging at me.

But it's full paddle ahead unless I hear differently. Next destination, The Great Swamp!

Un-Rejected! Alaska here I come!

I've been wanting to write this post for a week, but I've almost been afraid to talk about it, because it's just such an amazing turn of events and rather daunting. But remember how I've been applying for years to get an artist residency in Denali National Park in Alaska and came tantalizingly close but ultimately was rejected? And remember how I discovered a new one this year in the Ford's Terror Wilderness in the Tongass National Forest near Juneau and was rejected from that one as well? You don't? Well what luck, there's links! But seriously, a few weeks after getting a rejection letter from Tongass, while on the Bioblitz, I got a phone call from the ranger in charge of the program saying she had transferred to Prince William Sound (just south of Anchorage) and wanted to start up another program there, and ASKED ME TO BE THEIR FIRST ARTIST-IN-RESIDENCE! 

 

This residency is similar to the Tongass program  but will start out in Girdwood, AK (above) in August, where I and a Ranger from the National Forest Service will gear up for a 7-day tour of Prince William Sound, traveling by sea kayak and camping next to glaciers. The list of gear they sent me goes to 2-pages and includes wool sweaters, Xtratuf boots, waterproof pants, jacket, gloves and camera case. Did I mention it was kind of daunting? Did I mention I've only been in a kayak (and not the sea kind) a couple of times? Did I mention that I've only been camping twice in recent memory, and both times in the congenial society of the Bioblitz? Did I mention I just had knee surgery? Well, I certainly didn't bring any of that up in my application! But at least I'm grateful I've been hitting the gym pretty regular-like since January (one of those rare resolutions that stuck), and I'm going to take a sea-kayak lesson soon, and they do say "Extensive backcountry/kayaking experience is not necessary for this residency, just capability". I do think I will be capable of doing anything they tell me to, as long as they have the expertise, and you don't find much better expertise than the National Forest Service Rangers! I'll find out more about it when the ranger who will be in charge of me gets back from "the field" next week. I'll need to spend a few days in Anchorage too, so if anyone has recommendations on cheap but decent hotels I could use some!

In all my residencies I've really enjoyed interacting with the rangers and have respected their knowledge of the environments they work in and their efforts to preserve it, dealing with so many issues that the public isn't even aware of most of the time, but this is the first time I will actually spent the entire residency working so closely with them. I can't believe what a great opportunity this is!

Oh yeah, and I'm going to do some art too.

Back from Bioblitz 2011

 

Dateline June 10-11, Scituate, RI

I'm happy to report that the Rhode Island Natural History Survey Bioblitz 2011 Art Team  (or, as we affectionately call it - RINHSB2011AT) was a huge success. Thanks go out to Katy Dika from the RISD Nature Lab for bringing fabulous microscopes and art supplies for our fans to use. Young students Central Falls High School were inspired by watching artists Francis Topping and Katie Bertsche, natural science illustrators, and sat down with colored pencils to produce some impressive work themselves in the dry shelter of the tent. That's right, we woke up to the sound of rain hitting the tent again this year, but didn't, as they say, dampen the enthusiasm.

Students from Central Falls High School

We had a great and diverse group of about a dozen official Bioblitz artists, the aforementioned natural science illustrators, painters, printmakers, photographers and textile artists.The interaction with the naturalists was fantastic (they are so happy to share their extensive knowledge, and many naturalists are not too shabby in the art department themselves).

The first day was dry and gave all the opportunity to spread out, join teams and explore. Since I'm still in rehab for my sore knee, I headed a short distance to draw in the silent pine grove I had explored earlier. It was silent no longer though, the sounds of discovery rang out through the woods on every side. I started a pastel drawing of lichen (ashamed to say I don't know the species or genus) covered tree and was once again humbled in the face of nature.

The woods grew darker as the rainy front came in so I headed over to Science Central where they were serving a great al fresco meal. Specimens were trickling in: bugs were being pinned, buckets held little slimy things, feathers and mosses were arranged like still lives on the tables.

After dinner I gave a talk and slideshow to the artists and other interested folks on the Artist In Residence Program in the National Parks and my experiences with it. (I have great news about a new residency for my next blog post!!)  I posted the photos from the slideshow on Flikr and you can see them here without all my gabbing.

Then it was on to more exploration. As darkness fell we were treated to an incredible display of fireflies in all directions. I headed off through a long field with flashing lights dancing over the grass to find the bat team. I could dimly make out a rim of trees on the horizon so headed that way. Someone must have heard my footsteps because a flashlight shone out for a second. I headed towards it. As I got closer I heard voices so I called out "Are you the Bat People?" Sure enough, I had found them. We sat on fallen logs chatting while waiting to check the traps, which looked like volley-ball nets, but deeper and finer. Bats can sense the nets with their radar but often are careless or on the chase so do get caught. But not tonight. We brought in the traps and headed back with a detour to see the Moth People, who had much better luck with their spotlit white sheets.

By this time my knee was achy so I headed for the tent but before I could settle in I heard of a chance to join an owl walk. Too bad the owls didn't hear the invite, although our ipod was hooting in their lingo. Owls were heard earlier though, so we know they were in the area.

Kathy Hodge gives a presentation on the National Park Artist in Residence Program. Photo/Mary Grady

We finally turned in, falling asleep to the voices of the untiring naturalists still bringing specimens back to Science Central, which is where I spent the the next day resting my knee. But that's not to say I missed anything, there were all sorts of fascinating things to look at through the microscopes, things that we pass every time we are in any area with a minimal amount of nature.  Bees that shimmered like Christmas trees, lichen and moss like fairy tale worlds. In the other tent moths were being pinned in neat rows, crawfish and salamanders trying to crawl out of trays, and beetles and spiders were lining up for inspection. A student was carefully guarding a little white footed mouse huddling in the corner of a live trap, waiting for the Mammal Guy to come in from the field to document it before setting it free.

Fiber artist Ann Lilley works with children in making prints from natural textures. Photo/Mary Grady.

Frances Topping works from specimens. Photo/Mary Grady.

Meanwhile, the art team was painting and printing the pastoral view from the tent and from gathered specimens, and all were learning from each other till the whistle went off at 3pm to signal the end of Bioblitz 2011. Even though I ended up with soaked camping equipment, sleep deprivation, an aching knee, no artwork to speak of, and what looked like the remnants of a turkey massacre in the back of my truck I had only one thought. Wait'll next year!

RINHS Facebook page

Bioblitz Art Team Facebook Page

My photos from Bioblitz

Mary Grady's (Art Team Leader Emeritus) photos 

Mary Grady's story on ECO RI

A video of the event from projo.com

Bioblitz 2010 on Block Island 

The answer was... a phone call!

Looks like I'll be hiking in the desert later this summer! I came into work the day after I wrote the last post to find a message on my phone telling me I had been chosen as one of the artists-in-residence in the Petrified National Forest in Arizona!

In 2004 my husband and I made the typical tourist stop at the park while exploring the southwest. We had just enough time to check out some petrified logs, petroglyphs and the incredible painted desert before being chased off the joint by an aggressive dust devil.  This time I'll get to live for two weeks in one of these lovely adobe houses near the historic Painted Desert Inn, which has not functioned as an inn since the 70's, but is open to the public and is a fascinating historic building. 

I'm hoping to post journal entries daily from the park, since I believe I can get internet access but I don't know that my journal can compete with the one I discovered by a previous artist in residence, June Underwood. So thank you June for giving me a glimpse of what I can anticipate during my weeks there.

Now I'm only waiting to hear from the other residency I've applied for in the Ford's Terror Wilderness area of the Tongass National Forest in Juneau, Alaska. I usually don't attempt two residencies in a summer but this one sounds too cool to resist. The artist actually travels into the wilderness, via kayak, small boat or even sea plane with a ranger for 10 days, then pitches camp on a glacier. So wish me luck on that one too, I should know in a week or two!

How I would like to spend my summer vacation

Will I be hiking over a glacier, or over hot desert sand this summer? Or both? Or just over the same little streets of Providence? And when will I know? Will I get an email, a phone call, or an envelope in my mailbox? These are the questions I think of as I look out my grimy work window to the wall of buildings across the street,  grateful for the little sliver of sky I can see.

I've applied for two residencies this summer, both should be letting me know any day now.  In the meantime I've been organizing an artist team to explore a little piece of our very own environment. The area we are exploring is not the vast open space of the west, but a little plot of land near the reservoir—from the birds in the sky to the microscopic, bugs and fungus, leaves and amphibians. For the second year, artists are joining the Natural History Survey's Bioblitz. It's a great reminder that you don't have to travel great distances to be awed by nature. There are amazing things going on, literally, in your own backyard. If you think that sounds cool, check out the facebook page and join us!

Sainted

Mass MOCA had a strange effect on me. But I think hiking in the Berkshires will stick with me longer.

Torrential rain drumming on taut nylon is actually louder than thunder, in case you were wondering. I, on the other hand, was wondering if the tent was as waterproof as advertised. And if lightening were to hit a nearby tree, would it travel through the ground and if so, would an air mattress be any insulation. Also I was wondering if the storm would ever pass. After what seemed like two hours of wave after wave of downpour, it tapered off to an occasional splatter of drips when the wind jostled the tree above us.

Maybe now I could drift off....until, a half hour later (repeat the first paragraph).

After the second storm passed I spent about 15 minutes trying to convince myself that I didn't have to visit the outhouse, but bladders never listen. I slipped out of the tent and was surprised to find we were not underwater, just wet. On the trail to the outhouse I met a fellow bioblitzer who asked me cheerfully if I was coming to check for specimens on the the shore. It was pitch black. The hour was ungodly. That's when I knew I was surrounded by insane people. Of the best kind.

I was finally able to catch a few hours sleep before my ipod alarm went off at 6:30. The night before I had arranged to abandon the frog hunt and instead tag along on a small fishing boat to find bio-stuff off the shore to add to our species count. I volunteered to deliver the crew (Mary and Grace, left)
to Captain Feather's boat. I dressed as quietly as possible, trying to avoid stepping on the floor, which had turned into a rectangular water balloon (first lesson in tent camping, set up your tarp so the water stays on the earth side, not the tent side) and headed down the ClayheadTrail to my truck, then drove back to Science Central for coffee and excellent bagels before heading for New Harbor. There we met Christian and his 11 year old daughter Stephanie, and after another coffee run to make sure our crew was fully caffeinated, we boarded Captain Feather's boat.

That's not to imply that the rain had stopped, but it looked really pretty on the swells.


I spent the next few hours trying to stay out of the way of the crew, fishing rods, flying fish hooks, crabby pinchers, sharks (ok, a little dogfish) and ferocious saber toothed bluefish. I also tried some sketching, but you know what? It doesn't take long for a drawing pad to become fully saturated on a boat in the rain.


Everybody on the boat was excellent at catching stuff, except me, who just watched. Some of the catch would be taken back to the Blitz, some was set free, and some, I fear, was bound to end up on someone's dinner table.


After catching sea bass, dogfish, bluefish and a skate, Feather then took us on a roller coaster ride at 20-knots over the swells and back into New Harbor where they checked traps, chucking dozens of ugly spider crabs back into the ocean. The 2 lobsters were allowed to stay on board.


Back in the harbor we picked a few more passengers, because there was plenty of room for 2 little girls and me in the cab and four adults, a big dog and equipment in the back, for the trip over the bumpy dirt road back to the Blitz.

The 12 noon closing bell had already sounded, so it was time to pack up our wet tent and head into town to wait for the ferry. I'll leave reporting of the results of the 2010 Bioblitz to the scientists, but I had a great time. With all the rain and hunting for specimins, there wasn't much time to do any artwork, but something will probably develop back in the studio, when I catch up on sleep!

Although I haven't yet caught up on sleep, I've at least dried out after a weekend of thunderstorms, ponds and boating on Block Island as part of the 2010 Bioblitz. About 200 people ferried over to document as many species as could be found on the northern half of the island.  And what a half it was.  Below is the field (click to enlarge photos) where we were to pitch our tent, as soon as Mr. Lapham — part of the family that acquired the property in the 50s and 60s then donated most of it to the Nature Conservancy — kindly finished mowing it for the anticipated tent city.

Since Mary and I had taken the earliest ferry (not that we were too anxious to get there or anything) we were the first to claim our spot. Then, since I was the only one who could manage the standard transmission of the ancient Dodge pickup, I was drafted to drive it into town to pick up two loads of folding chairs from the Abrams farm, home of llamas, emus, goats and even a camel. After navigating the boxy, creaky truck over the bumpy gravel access-road to the Clay Head trail, loading and unloading 80 chairs, we felt we had earned a reward with lunch and beer at the Oar in New Harbor.

Then it was back to our spot to pitch our tent. By then others were arriving and setting up. A surprising number had also just purchased their tents for this event, so I didn't feel like such a newbie and was able to check out other brands I had looked at online. I decided I was very happy with the one I picked, isn't it pretty?

Then it was off to explore a bit and check out the view from the bluff trail. We met up with Roberto Bessin, sculptor of beautiful, monumental and ethereal bird sculptures and we all hopped on a shuttle heading for dinner in town before the scheduled lecture by Providence Journal environmental writer Peter Lord, who wrote the Journal's award-winning report on how open space was preserved on Block Island. (Full disclosure: I worked with Peter on putting this piece together for the web.)

By the time we took the shuttle back to the campground everyone seemed ready to turn in, so after checking out the amazing stars from the bluff, we zipped up the tent and tried to get some sleep.

We woke to an overcast day. Mary went on the geology walk, but I decided to take a trail down to a pond and set up my easel. The disappointing result of 2 hours of painting might have survived to be judged back in the studio, but there were just too many witnesses who might ask to see it, so I wiped it off.  It was nice to spend some time on the quiet trail though, just me and the birds.

Back at Science Central we spent some time talking with the other artists until noon. None of us seemed to know exactly what we were going to do but all were excited to be the first artists take part. When the noon siren signaled the start of the 24-hour Bioblitz, it was off to look for frogs. The Lapham property is dotted with kettleholes, surrounded by dense vegetation, which seemed the perfect environment for the little guys. The dense vegetation proved not so perfect for us though, since there were few spots where we could access the mucky shore. But we managed to find a frog in Monument Pond, which our team leader Mandy swabbed as part of a project documenting frog diseases. By now persistent drizzle was falling, so after checking out a few more ponds where we heard bullfrogs, smugly out of reach, we headed back to Science Central. 

There we found that someone else had more luck. We were greeted by container filled with these funny faces. If they look like little kids, it's because they still have their tadpole tails.

By now the rain was coming down hard, but cleared in time for us to stand in line for some great food, socializing, and checking out specimens. The 20 or so artists gathered around a table to share our backgrounds and a bottle of wine, after which we climbed a small hill to check out the bat trap. No bats fell for it, but I was happy to find I could still catch fireflies.

Although cozy on my air mattress, I hadn't gotten much sleep the night before, so I was looking forward to a good night's sleep in my little green tent. It was not to be.... (to be cont.)

BioBlitz

Although I'm not doing a National Park residency this summer, I do have an opportunity to do a 3 day "residency" on Block Island as part of the Artist Team for the 2010 BioBlitz. My good friend Mary Grady, who's into all manner of environmental projects, initiated the idea of asking artists to join the team this year, and so invited me along with around a dozen artist in all media.  In her own words she wrote "I thought we should...help communicate and promote the work of the Bioblitz science teams, and at the same team provide an opportunity for local artists to be inspired by the work of the scientists and the beauty and diversity of the wild places in our own back yard."

So tomorrow I'll be leaving the mainland to pitch a tent on the beautiful Laptham Farm near the Clayhead bluffs. I'll have to remember to take the price tag off the tent so those around me won't know that I just bought it especially for this event and I dont' know what the heck I'm doing.  How hard can it be though, especially surrounded by dozens of environmental types? I'm also bringing my French Easel and oils, maybe some acrylics, and drawing materials. I was asked to pick a team to be on, so picked amphibians. You can't go wrong with amphibians.

Above, with sand is still embedded in the paint, is a sketch I did a few summers ago in the dunes of Block Island.  I'll post what I come up with on this trip when I get back.

End of the Machine Age

Done, finally. I think the machines are over, at least for awhile. Back to the natural world. Which is really a big machine when you think of it.

I'm going soon to be part of a team that documents that machine when I join the Bioblitz on Block Island in a couple of weeks. More on that later, in fact, I may even blog from the island. Or I may just hunker down with a glass of wine in my tent after a day in the fields of BI with my paintbox. Good times.

Pools of water - Mt. Monadnock

The summit of Mt. Monadnock is usually so crowded that it can be tempting to want to escape the rambunctious kids, picture takers and cell phone chatterers and head back down the trail to a more peaceful overlook. But the summit is as special as it is triangular. I don't know what it is that causes the granite to split into 3 sided sections, but I love the pyramid boulders that trap rain water into little pools that reflect triangles of blue sky. It makes me want to paint them all over again.

We avoided the crowds on the way up by taking the Marlboro Trail to the west instead of the more populated trails that leave from park headquarters on the east side. Marlboro starts with an easy and not too rocky hike through the woods until you cross a stone wall, after which it begins to climb steeply up an increasingly rocky trail. Only after scrambling over the rocks for awhile did I realize why my footing seemed so awkward. I had grabbed an old pair of Sears hiking boots that I hadn't worn in about 7 years, instead of my nice REI pair, which I will appreciate more the next time I wear them.

Despite it being windy and cold up top, it was a beautiful day for a hike. I'll have to climb it again later this summer when there will be so many wild blueberries growing in the granite crevices that I can easily fill a few bagfuls to freeze and last me into the winter.

Mountains to climb

Ahh, the good old days (last week) when I was too busy painting to blog. This week I was too busy to paint. Sometimes it's less frustrating just to give into it and not even try to get into the studio.  But I'm lucky, because what's keeping me busy besides the usual Work and Chores are good things, like my dear father's approaching 80th birthday, hosting a cheering section for 2 brothers who are running a marathon that's going right by my house, and planning for a hike up Mt. Monadnock.

I did these paintings in 1997 from a previous hike up to Monadnock's granite summit. The top one was used as a book cover for The Cambridge Introduction to Sylvia Plath.
I know. Classy. Cambridge and all. I would have been happy to have it used on "Mountain Climbing for Dummies" considering I was contacted out of the blue by the editor who saw it on the internet. I only needed to send a slide and cash the check. I'm getting to like sending these paintings out to earn their living, or at least their rent for the space they take in my studio.

Next week I'll wrestle with the big painting again. Now that it's May, my deadline seems much closer. Until then, I have a mountain to climb.

Living for the weekend

I had a good weekend, the kind where I think, if only I could continue on this way, maybe I could actually be an artist.

Friday I went to the opening of the 2010 RISCA fellowship recipients exhibition at Imago Gallery. It was packed, so much so that it was hard to actually see who beat me out for the grant. From what I could see, it looked pretty interesting, although nothing made me stop in my tracks. Some good people there to talk to though, and the glass of white wine in the little plastic cup hit the spot after a full day of work and pilates class.

Saturday it felt really good to get back into my studio, despite the fact that my tubes of paint were icy cold and it never warmed up to more than 50 degrees, even with the propane stove running full blast.

I'm reworking the big (almost 4x5 feet) painting that I had envisioned as the finale to my Shoemaker series. Even though I had already exhibited it, I was never really satisfied that I had pushed it as far as I could have. So I'm going at it again by changing some large areas and ramping up the color. The only problem is that when I finally get a chance to heat up the studio and spend a few hours working on it, it's a bit hard to connect back to it. But it might help that now I have a deadline that will force me to make it more of a priority. I have to deliver a painting by June 9 for the Art League of RI's members show at the RISD Museum and I'd like to submit it, being a big museum show and all. It's the first, and probably only, time my work will grace those hallowed halls, so I hope I can pull this painting together.

Sunday I took a break to spend with my valentine. We went on a snowy winter hike in Borderland State Park. I had never been to the 1700 acre park before, which is just north of Mansfield MA, but it's a beautiful spot.

We started out the hike by heading towards the mansion. I wasn't especially interested in it, until I found out that the couple who built it were a botanist (Oakes Ames) and a painter (Blanche Ames). Born in 1878, Blanche actually designed the mansion after firing the architects who were making it too ostentatious. From the distance it looked pretty square and unremarkable, but closer up was full of surprising patterns of granite, a huge bell imported from Cuba on the roof and stained glass windows. Unfortunately the mansion wasn't open, but I looked up Blanche online when I got home and found she was a really neat person. She illustrated her husband's book of orchid research, painted in oils, and worked hard for womens rights, especially for access to birth control, all her life. She engineered the dams that created the lakes in the park, and received a patent for inventing an antipollution toilet at the age of 90. All this while raising 4 children.

After peeking in the mansion's windows, we walked around the ponds and over the earthen dams. The biggest pond was frozen over and people were walking across it inspecting several ice fishing holes. We skirted it instead, to avoid a cold wind. Otherwise I was perfectly comfortable in the mid-30's temperature. We walked for about 4 miles, but only explored a small part of the park. I'll have to return to see how it looks in the spring or summer.

• • •

A good article in the NY Times on Sunday. Enough with Minimalism, how about some Maximalism for a change? (my headline)

Dunes for Denali

Well, my Denali application is, not "in-the-mail", but in the internet ether I guess. Now I just have to wait an endless amount of time to hear if I got this latest artist residency. I never really understand why it takes so long, sometimes months, to process the applications. Can't they just have a meeting, like, the week after the deadline and pick someone? Then just email, or mail, their decision the next week? That's only two weeks, but I must be missing something about the process, so I'll be patient...

These are three of the six paintings I needed for my application (click on them to view larger), all from my Great Sand Dunes National Park residency. Two of them are of Medano Creek, a very shallow stream of water which runs from the mountains and along the base of the dunes. In late September, when I was there, it had retreated to the east and was rather lazily pushing forward only
to be absorbed into the dry sand of the wide creek bed, which gives a clue to how large Medano gets in spring and early summer. I wish I'd had the chance to take an entire day to hike up it further, but time ran out on me.

A quick connection from the dunes

Just a quick post. I'm waiting in the San Luis Valley regional airport for John to get his rental car to return to Denver tomorrow. The rental car guy is off doing something, and this tiny airport is deserted except for the TSA guy. But, they have WIFI! Other than that I've been cut off, my cell phone doesn't even work when I go into the big town of Alamosa. But enough about the advantages of being out here, it's also incredibly beautiful.

We've spent the week hiking in the mountains and the dunes, despite the fact that I acquired a sinus infection and a touch of altitude sickness, and we've had snow and hail most afternoons so far. But today was the first day I didn't feel like my head was made of concrete and it's also getting warmer. So now that I've done some exploring, it's time to get out in the dunes and do some serious drawing.

And these are serious dunes. Up to 750 feet high, that's bigger than Providences skyscrapers. It can be a challenge climbing, especially starting in the thin atmosphere of 8200 feet.

Well, the rental car guy is here...so signing off for now!

Mental detox

I'm back from the civilization of sunrises, sunsets, clear water pumped from the sand, silence except for bird cries, surf and wind, wide dunes and sky. Back to the uncivil world.

I survived Hurricane Bill and Danny—the first brought great seal filled waves, the second almost drowned me on my way back home... in between was PEACE. I'll be posting my journal in the next few days, and some photos. Going back to work tomorrow is bound to be harsh, so I'll want to mentally race back to my dune shack whenever possible.