How to choose art for the bare walls of a new house

It began with a June 19 Facebook post by artist Linda Anne Lopez of Winchester, Virginia. Linda and I met several times over the years. She's married to diehard reader and biker Ben Lopez, a longtime friend of my late brother Dan and his wife Nancy. They met in Santa Barbara while going to UCSB. Turns out they all moved to Florida for work and kids and riding motorcycles year-round. 

Ben is the most voracious reader I know and we trade book titles on FB. His most recent: a biography of Rudyard Kipling. My most recent is a novel The Sleeping Car Porter by Canadian author Suzette Mayr. I am now hip-deep in Carl Hiaasen's newest, Fever Beach. Ben sticks mainly to non-fiction and I'm a creature of fiction as that is what I write. And, sometimes, like these crazy times right now, who can tell the difference?

Linda got serious about her art after retirement. Photography was her thing. Along the way she discovered encaustic mixed media and that's what you're seeing here. 

Linda is  a bird-and-flower person which carries a lot of weight with me, a hummingbird admirer and gardener. She describes her specialty as Encaustic Mixed Media. She combines her love of photography with the ancient arts of encaustic. See further explanation below. Find out more at Lindalopezartist.com

And I spent most of my professional career in the art world, mostly in the realm of state arts agencies (SAAs), local arts funding, a stint at the National Endowment for the Arts, and dabs in arts and literary criticism. All of these worlds are being decimated by Trump and his goons but I will leave my political critiques to other posts on Hummingbirdminds and other rabble-rousing sites.

Linda got my attention with this FB post on June 19:

Hummingbird and flowers, encaustic mixed media, 8-by-8 inches, Linda Lopez

It got my attention because it is beautiful and because it features a hummingbird and flowers. I must have it, I told my PC, and contacted Linda. It was for sale and she also had a companion piece, shown in this June 25 FB post by Linda: 

Encaustic mixed media, Linda Lopez, work at left is 9-by-17 inches.

The new home this refers to is mine in Ormond Beach, Florida. They will be the first works of art to go up in our new home in a woodsy place called Groveside at Ormond Station. I plan to turn these bare walls into a gallery of sorts, one that will feature groups of pieces celebrating my wife Chris and me. These two pieces will hang above our dining room table which, strangely enough, matches the color schemes of the art. It will feature work by Florida and Wyoming artists with a Virginia and Colorado artist in the ranks. 

You might ask: Hey Mike, what, exactly, is encaustic? I will let Linda answer that:

Explanation and History of Encaustic 

Encaustic is a wax-based paint (composed of beeswax, damar resin, and pigment), which is kept molten on a heated palette. It is applied to an absorbent surface and then reheated to fuse the paint.  The word ‘encaustic’ comes from the Greek word enkaiein, meaning to burn in, referring to the process of fusing the paint.  

 

Encaustic painting was practiced by Greek artists as far back as the 5th century B.C. The Fayum portraits are the best-known encaustic works. These funeral portraits were painted in the 1st and 2nd centuries A.D. by Greek painters in Egypt. 

 

Modern encaustic painting was made possible by the invention of portable electric heating implements and the availability of commercial encaustic paint and popularized by its usage among many prominent artists. Encaustic paintings do not need varnishing or protection with glass. Beeswax is impervious to moisture, which is one of the major causes of deterioration in a paint film. Wax resists moisture far more than resin varnish or oil. Buffing encaustic will give luster and saturation to color in just the same way resin varnish does. 

 

Encaustic can be used as a traditional painting medium, but it can also be used to create sculptures, with photography (transfers and prints), drawing, and printmaking (monotypes). Painting with encaustic is a multi-step process. First, the paint must be melted. Then the molten paint is applied to a porous surface. The wax is then fused into the working surface, allowing it to form a bond. As a final option, the cooled paint can be buffed to bring up the luster of the wax and resin. Every layer of encaustic wax must be fused. 

Ormond museum features art from the war in France and the war at home

(Continued from Jan. 13)

I spend a lot of time at Malcolm Fraser’s “The Soul Escaping Death” painting flanked by a framed spread of many medals earned in World War 1. He served in the French Blue Devils unit and was wounded five times. He also was an officer with the Red Cross on the frontlines.

Chris wanders off. She knows that I may be awhile. 

That’s what you do at a museum, right? Wander. Or roll, depending on your mobility.

If you look up Fraser at New York City’s Salmagundi Club web site, you find that Fraser was a member. I had to search for him and the screen listed 56 items in the file. But the link does not go to the artwork but you can see some in person at the Ormond Memorial Art Museum & Gardens, 78 E. Granada, Blvd. The Salmagundi club is dedicated to representational art so it’s natural that it drew Fraser who painted portraits of the living and the dead, angels, soldiers, and John the Baptist among them.

“The Soul Escaping Death” shows a dead soldier on the ground in front of blasted battlements. He is wrapped in a U.S. flag that he apparently was carrying on the staff he grips in his dead hands. An angel has one hand on the body and another on a robe stripped from what’s supposed to be the soldier’s soul rising into the gilded heavens. The spirit looks free and happy, the vestments looking as if they are morphing into angel’s wings. The soul’s naked body looks female with long curly hair and the possibility of breasts and any genitals hidden under a triangle of pubic hair. It could be that this is Fraser’s vision of the angelic form, one that is human but intersexual, one that represents a brand-new being that we become after death. The exposed flesh of the dead soldier and the angel is rough and brown as if they were connected to the ground like old oak trees. The soul’s flesh is the pink of life, a representation of new life in the soul.

I looked at this painting a long time. I couldn’t decide if it was a work of hope in the face of death or a memoir of an artist who has witnessed slaughter on a grand scale. He was awarded both the Croix de Guerre and the Verdun Medal. “Verdun” was symbolic of the war for the French, a battle cry and also a memory of defeat. Verdun was the longest battle of the war, lasting 11 months. Casualties were enormous for the French and Germans, with 700,000 dead, missing, and wounded. The site’s towering Douaumont Ossuary contains the bones of more than 100,000 soldiers never identified, French and German dead intermingled. You can view them through little windows.

Fraser was an accomplished artist. Not sure he took many risks. The 20^th century was about to explode and the explosion was captured by poets and writers. The so-called “Lost Generation” gave us exciting and troubling masterpieces.

Charles Humes Jr. is a living artist from Miami who has much in common with this creative breed. Humes lives in the present and creates in the present. As an African-American, he has an endless array of subjects, many taken from daily newspapers. Lest we miss his messages, he uses newspaper clippings in his mixed media work.  The museum’s handout for the new year shows Humes’ “Gentrified” on the cover.

“Gentrified” is a loaded word in the black community. It often means that a black neighborhood is being turned over to developers and the mostly-white gentry who will inhabit the condos/townhouses that will replace independent businesses. Artists figure in this, too. They often are the first to occupy rundown urban neighborhoods because they can afford them. Then the city (I’m looking at you, Denver) becomes known as an arts hub and young people swarm in and then smart developers who saw this coming and bought rundown buildings kick out the artists and renovate them into condos and before long you have ranks of techies wandering the streets looking for art for their walls by artists who once lived in their building but now can only afford the prairie exurbs or some quaint rural village in the foothills that soon will swarm with newcomers seeking real estate in artsy quaint rural villages.

It's not the fault of artists. Hey, I just wanted a place to paint! It’s life in America. Not sure what it’s going to look like in Trumplandia.

Oh yes I do. I truly do.

Humes’ work will be on exhibit through Feb. 9. Next up are Colombian sculptor Felipe Lopez and collage artist Staci Swider. Accord to the handout: “Her [Swinder’s] work is a meditation on aging, memory, and the unseen forces that guide us.” Sounds intriguing and timely. Opening reception at the museum gallery is Feb. 20, 6-8 p.m.

Malcolm Fraser flies with the angels at Ormond Memorial Art Museum & Gardens

What makes a 49-year-old artist abandon his paints and go to war?

That’s the question I pondered when visiting the Ormond Memorial Art Museum & Gardens.

Malcolm Fraser was a Canada-born professional painter and illustrator who had graduated from the Sorbonne and attended Heidelberg University. In 1917, he left the U.S., steamed to Europe, and joined, after some intense training, the French “Blue Devils” unit at the Front. He was wounded five times and received France’s Croix de Guerre for his heroics. Later, he joined the A.E.F., was promoted to captain, and served with the American Red Cross on the front lines.

Fraser ended up spending most of his time in Ormond Beach. Toward the end of his life, he looked for a place to feature his artwork and one that was dedicated to veterans. A $10,000 endowment by Fraser in 1946 got the ball rolling and led to this impressive place.

Its priorities are clear when you leave handicapped parking and roll through the jungle. As Credence sang:

Better run through the jungle, 

Better run through the jungle, 

Better run through the jungle, 

Whoa, don’t look back and see.

I roll on my electric scooter and Chris walks. A beautiful space, and peaceful. I can barely hear the traffic zooming by on one of Ormond's busiest intersections. We enter the sheltered labyrinth and follow the lines on its painted multicolored surface decorated with butterflies and hummingbirds. It was designed by by Joan Baliker and the late Carol Bertrand and refreshed by Mack Sutton (artists must be named). This one is within a big gazebo and is a great play place for kids. I think about the outdoor stone labyrinth at my hometown Cheyenne Botanic Gardens, now covered with snow. 

Along the walkway is a monument by Mark Chew to veterans of the Korean War. Its streamlined silver surface reaches for the trees and beyond. It's the shape of a flame but cold as the Chosin Reservoir. Around the next turn is a bronze for Vietnam veterans by Gregory Johnson. On what looks like an old kitchen chair sits a helmet and canteen. Dog tags and a uniform shirt hang from the chair back. Its legs straddle beat-up combat boots.

I linger. This was my generation’s war, not mine physically, but it's lodged in the memories of any guy of draft age from that time (December 1968 passed Draft physical Jacksonville FL, high school deferment; December 1969 Selective Service Draft Lottery #128; Navy ROTC midshipman 1969-71; two months served on USS John F. Kennedy as midshipman, summer 1970; released from the Draft on Jan. 1, 1972). I once read this about those times: "Vietnam sucked the soul out of an entire generation."

Memories remain. 

Johnson's statue is homey, I think, the things a grunt might leave behind when he changes into civvies. Or it could be a family's reminders of a GI whose psyche never made it back home. Think of war stories: Krebs in Hemingway’s “Soldier’s Home” or Ron Kovic in “Born on the Fourth of July” or Billy Lynn in Ben Fountain’s “Billy Lynn’s Long Halftime Walk” (whatever happened to Ang Lee’s 2016 movie based on the book?).

We emerge from the jungle and its memories. The sun shines on a colorful "Can Do" sculpture by the late Seward Johnson, part of the public art display on Grenada by the Ormond Beach Arts District. Also on the ground is the "Embracing Peace" sculpture celebrating the famous Times Square kiss on VJ Day. Inside the museum, a bronze plaque lists more than 200 residents who served in WW2 (updated in 1999 to list African-American veterans) and one dedicated to WW1 veterans. A WW1 Doughboy helmet rests in a glass case by Malcolm Fraser’s photo and bio that greet visitors. This is a decorated soldier, and we are here to see his artwork.

(To be continued)

It's time again for the Wyoming Governor's Arts Awards

This time every year the Wyoming Arts Council hires me to write the story on the annual Governor's Arts Awards recipients. Some of them I know from my 25 years working at the Wyoming Arts Council. Others are new to me.

I have worked or met all the 2023 awardees:

Mary Jane Edwards, recently retired director of the Jentel Foundation

The Munsick Boys, a father and his three sons from Sheridan County finding inventive ways to thrive in the music world

Geoffrey O'Gara, filmmaker and author from Lander

Milward Simpson, a live theatre guy in Cheyenne who was my former boss at State Parks and Cultural Resources

Mike and Jane Sullivan, Mike as Wyoming governor 1987-1993, and Jane as First Lady 

A great list. I learned a lot interviewing them by phone. We didn't do the Zoom thing as I am much more phone-friendly than Zoom-friendly. My background is in journalism and feature writing. I have interviewed hundreds of people remotely and in person. I prefer face-to-face but it's not always possible. For this assignment, I needed a firm desk to take notes as my right hand is still not behaving properly due to ulnar nerve surgery. Thus, my handwriting is worse than it ever was -- and that's saying a lot. People have looked at my notebook and asked: "Is this your kind of shorthand?" I usually answer in the affirmative, labeling my method Shay Script which sounds better that terrible penmanship. 

There's another aspect to the story. The nuns taught me cursive. When I began roaming around to find stories, I recorded interviews in cursive. I couldn't read it when I got back to my desk. I switched to printing when I began reporting for my college newspaper. Instead of long swoops and swirls, I now could just abbreviate words with a few letters and be able to translate it at the other end.  I sometimes get confused but that is what phone and e-mail and Internet are for.

I learned a few things. Mike Sullivan is a James Joyce fan and tickled Bloomsday fans in Dublin reciting snippets from "Ulysses" while wearing cowboy duds. There is a thing called cowboy rap which I discovered interviewing musician Tris Munsick. He sent me to YouTube to see his brother Ian's performance at Cheyenne Frontier Days. Ian brought his buddy Ryan Charles on stage and he rapped cowboy and the fans down in the pit loved it. Mary Jane Edwards has retired twice, once as a UW faculty member, and once as executive director of the Jentel Foundation and its artist residency program. She now is officially retired, or so she says.

Those are just a few tidbits from the features you can read in the February edition of Artscapes Magazine. I am busily translating and transcribing my notes. Wish me luck.

You will hear from the recipients at the annual awards gala on Feb. 23 at Little America in Cheyenne. Order your tickets here.

In the good ol' summertime, we hear about The Great War and Scott Joplin ragtime

Last time I was in Casper, I could walk on my own. August 21, 2017, the total solar eclipse cut across a swath of Wyoming that ran from Jackson, across Casper, and on to Torrington and a slice of Nebraska and into Kansas and beyond. My first total eclipse and maybe my last as they rarely take the same path. On April 8, 2024, you’ll have to travel to Dallas for totality. In 2033, a slice of Alaska will have totality, and in 2044, it’s northern Montana. On Aug. 12, 2045, your best bet will be Colorado Springs or somewhere in central Utah. In 2045 I will be 94. I may not see it in person although my spirit will be floating around the Rocky Mountains.  

Casper staged a big downtown party with vendors, food trucks, and live music. My wife Chris and I drove up to `stay with our friend Lori. We watched the eclipse from Lori’s backyard, looking through special glasses you could buy anywhere that summer. It was magnificent. I blogged about it here. 

Monday night, my daughter Annie and I traveled to Casper for Poetry & Music, a summer series sponsored by Artcore that features music interspersed with a writer’s reading. I was the writer that night. Music and writing share some commonalities but some obvious differences. Both stir our souls, when done well, and that’s always the case.

The setting is the Bluebird Café at the Historic Cheese Barrel. The brick building dates from post-World War 1 with first the Bluebird Mercantile and then the Bluebird Grocery. The latter served as one of Casper’s corner groceries, of which there were many but only one remains as a grocer. The Cheese Barrel was a restaurant serving fantastic breakfasts and lunches. I ate there many times. The breakfasts, when you could get a seat, were divine. Catered lunches made their way to many Casper College events such as the annual literary conference that I helped organize. 

Owner Jacquie Anderson has rehabbed the place to look like the grocery store of the 1940s and it is charming. Tables are scattered through the main room. For the Artcore series, Jacquie and her staff line up 50-some chairs facing a small stage. There’s a lights-and-sound tech on hand to make it cozy. This was especially important Monday. On my way in, I noticed the Primrose Retirement Center van. “My people,” I joked with Annie. Sure enough, the place was packed with people my age. This is a challenge for me – acting my age. I can’t quite get that I’m 72 and disabled. My spiffy red rollator walker reminds me daily as does my drop left foot and back pain. Neuropathy tingles my hands and feet. My mind is active as ever although I sometimes can’t remember an actor’s name in an old movie and have to dredge the info up from the Internet.

The reading went well. Some acknowledged they also had grandparents from that time, some of them serving overseas during WWI. One was a retired nurse. People our age really seem to like historical fiction maybe because they’ve lived through so much history and it connects to their past. Wasn’t sure how all of these white folks would take to the relationship between Frannie and African-American character Joe Junior or the sex references but they seemed to take them in stride. They laughed in the right places. We took an intermission right before Frannie goes up for her speech, one woman even asking me to give a clue about it but I just said, “Cake first.” Annie says I should read before more people of an advanced age because they connect with it in different ways than some of the younger folks in the room. Carolyn Deuel and Artcore, sponsors of the event, said her grandmother’s card-playing club volunteered on the home front during WWI and even rolled bandages for the soldiers overseas. All these people from previous generations are gone now and people our age may be the last generation that actually knew the grandparents with connections of The Great War.

The night’s bill began with a classical music performance by woodwinds quartet Rara Avis. In then read the first section. Then came the cake break (the chocolate was chocolicious). I then read the second part of the story and took a few questions. Rara Avis closed the night with performances of some American classics such as Scott Joplin’s “The Entertainer” and “In the Good Ol’ Summertime.”

Keep in mind that all events like this take a lot of time and energy to set up. Funding, too, as writers and performers get paid. Supporting the arts has never been more important. Writing, in particular, has been under fire by the MAGA-inspired Moms for Liberty who attack books and librarians. They are fascists and must be stymied in their bid to transform us into bobblehead dolls.

I will let you know when my book is ready to be read and/or banned.

What's really in that Paris apartment, and why is it so important?

“The Paris Apartment” by Kelly Bowen is the second book recommended on the Historical Fiction Book Lovers Facebook site to take me back to France in World War II. “The Nightingale” by Kristin Hannah was the first. They both impressed me with the sacrifices made by women behind the lines. They are well-trained operatives such as Sophie in “Paris,” or small-town young women such as Vianne and her sister Isabelle in “Nightingale,” women who lose husbands to the war or best friends to Nazi death-camp roundups. They all did the right thing when they resisted the Nazi onslaught. Some paid with their lives. Others emerged from the experience forever altered.

I’m a bit of a newcomer to the category of historical fiction and I’m particularly impressed by women’s stories. My childhood reading about the war were books by men about men. I read first-hand accounts such as “Guadalcanal Diary” by Richard Tregaskis and “Brave Men,” Ernie Pyle’s accounts of men in combat in Europe. I read war novels and watched war TV (“Combat”). I watched war-era black-and-white war movies, many of them featuring John Wayne. Most were hokey, not that I cared about that when I was 12. A great one is “They Were Expendable” about PT Boats fighting the good fight against the Japanese invasion of the Philippines. My father told war stories which were mostly unwarlike. He carried a rifle for four years but more importantly, he was in charge of the radio, his unit’s link with the rest of the army.  

Meanwhile, brave women fought the good fight. It was “The Good War,” as Studs Terkel labeled it, because the enemies were so evil and we were so good. The Nazis were cruel fascists and the Japanese cruel militarists (also, they were a different shade of people). Even Donald Duck hated these guys.

But it’s not the global issues that motivated these fictional women. Sophie was not waving the flag for democracy. She was getting even for Ptior, her new husband killed at her side when the Nazis terror-bombed a Polish village in 1939. Estelle Allard’s best friend, a Jew, was rounded up by French collaborators and shipped to Auschwitz. They join the fight for personal reasons but find themselves enlisting in a righteous cause. It’s always personal. This time, the women tell the story. One compelling aspect of this book is the two time periods that move the story forward. One if the war itself, with Sophie and Estelle, the other is told from the POV of Estelle’s granddaughter who inherits the abandoned apartment. She thinks she is getting a luxury apartment in the City of Light. What she’s really getting is a history lesson. Lots of art history, too, as one of the main story lines of the book has to do with the massive art thievery by the Nazis.

The books mentioned above aren’t the only ones. The group site takes the big view of historical fiction. For more targeted lists, go to this group site: “BOOKS - 𝘽𝘼𝙎𝙀𝘿 𝙊𝙉 𝙏𝙍𝙐𝙀 𝙎𝙏𝙊𝙍𝙄𝙀𝙎: About Women, By Women Authors.” You’ll sometimes find yourself in the midst of discussions about what is true historical fiction and what is not. It is great to argue about books instead of politics, although that sometimes enters the fray. Have at it. You’ll discover some great books in the process. 

WyoFile: "Gutting arts funding is a bad look for Wyoming's future"

Pinedale artist Sue Sommers wrote a fine op-ed in WyoFile today advocating for support of the Wyoming Arts Council. The header says a lot: "Gutting arts funding is a bad look for Wyoming's future."

The subhead sums up Sue's approach to the issue: 

A penchant for creative problem-solving makes artists resilient pillars of our communities, which is why they need state support.

I worked at the Arts Council from 1991-2016. It's made a huge contribution to Wyoming. The Wyoming State Legislature's Joint Travel, Recreation, Wildlife, and Cultural Resources Committee meets June 12-13 in Evanston. The future of the WAC is up for discussion. The me, it's a non-issue. If you want Wyoming to have a future, support arts and culture. I know there is something called "the Wyoming lifestyle." For some, that's wide-open spaces and The Big Sky. For others, it's ranching and cowboying. For some, it's technology and the future. For the narrow-minded, it's a society open only to those who are a rabidly conservative as they are and the rest of you can STFU. We've seen a lot of the latter the past seven years. 

I see a creative Wyoming, home to an amazing array of artists and arts groups. That's the future the Wyoming Arts Council sees for the state. Is it how the Legislature envisions to future? Tell them what you want. I wrote emails to chairs Wendy Schuler (Senate) and Sandy Newsome (House). They're not my reps in the Legislature but they'll play a big part in the meeting's procedures. Your neighbor or a local rancher may be on the committee. Email them today. 

Donuts that are pretty as a picture

Donuts!

Haven’t given them much thought the past couple decades. They once were a regular morning feature, coffee and donuts. You know it was a good day -- or a long meeting was ahead -- when greeted with a box of donuts when you walked into work. Sugar and flour never tasted so good. Therein lies the problem. Carbs and sugar are not on my diabetic wife Chris's menu. Carbs, butter, and cooking oil led to my heart attack in 2013.

But I ate a donut this morning. They were cooked by The Donut Shop in Cheyenne. Most people know it by its pink exterior paint festooned with multicolored donut varieties. Daughter Annie, the artist, was so taken with the place’s color scheme that she created a painting in the place’s image. When it was finished, she framed it and we trundled it over to the Southside shop. There’s a café on one side and a Dollar General across the street. Donuts are in the display cases when it opens at 5 a.m. This means that the owners are up earlier to cook. Chris worked at a donut shop for a brief time. It was one of her three jobs. She was in the shop at 5 a.m. and the cook had already been there for hours. She worked the morning rush and then went home.

The Donut Shop won a 2022 “Best of Cheyenne” award and the framed plaque hangs in the dining room that has a half-dozen tables.  Bonnie the owner says she will hang Annie’s painting for all to see. We ordered a dozen donuts. Bonnie wanted to pay for them but we insisted on paying our own way. Many struggling artists have traded their work for food. Those times could be ahead for Annie. This was not one of those times.

The golden glazed donut I ate was delicious. Nostalgia in a box. Annie and I each took one and brought the rest downtown to the PrideFest committee readying the plaza for the afternoon event. Son Kevin is on the committee and built the stage. He’s also on the security team that’s a must for any Pride Month event this year what with all the right-wing loonies on the loose. Donuts might be a great peace offering in tumultuous times. This might be one of those times.

Donuts!

Don't get around much anymore, but plan to change that

My daughter Annie invited me to go on the Friday ArtWalk. I used to go every month when I worked at the Wyoming Arts Council. Then I retired and went less often. Then I hurt my spine and needed a walker to get around. Then came Covid and there was no ArtWalk. Then Covid was over and my wife Chris was diagnosed with breast cancer.

ArtWalk was taken over by Arts Cheyenne in 2022 after a ten-year run in the hands of local artist Georgia Rowswell. It's gone from the second Thursday of the month to a First Friday arts event. It includes visits to local galleries, such as Clay Paper Scissors and new arts venues such as the Cheyenne Creativity Center downtown. There's new art to see, lots to eat and drink, and music by local musicians.

I hadn’t been to a First Friday before Annie invited me. She’s an artist too, you see, and just getting involved in the local art scene. Since most of my professional life was spent as an arts administrator where I did a lot of arts stuff, Annie depends on me for insight into that world. I laugh inwardly, not wanting to think about all of the things I don’t know about the art world. I know just enough.

Last night I realized that my social skills are not as fine-tuned as when I regularly had to schmooze with artists, writers, gallery owners, politicians, just plain folks. I was quite adept at small talk and most of the time I was on hand as a professional from the state arts agency and people expected me to say something enlightening. I tried. More than once I had to say I didn’t have an answer and I would get back to them on it. And I did. That’s how I learned. OJT. There are people born as arts administrators, there are those who go to college for it, and there are those who learn through trial and error. I am in this latter category. While in grad school at Colorado State, I helped arrange readings by writers. I had attended quite a few as a fan and someone busily writing fiction while I tried to make a living in other ways. I had no real sense of what it took to put on a reading. I found out at CSU.

I also did my first try at administering the arts. One of my faculty mentors, Mary Crow, asked if I wanted to serve on the Fine Arts Series. I was trying to get to class, teach a couple sections of composition, workshop my own writing, and find way to spend time with my wife and young son. Naturally, I volunteered. The Fine Arts Series meetings were busy and congenial. Its members included undergraduates and graduate students. Also CSU staff including the director, Mims Harris. I stepped into a semester that featured music and dance performances, an annual poster art show, and literary events. I volunteered for the latter. Thus began my journey.

Last night, I felt detached from that world. Early in retirement, I made a choice to spend time with my own writing and not volunteer for arts events. And then all of those other things happened and I found myself out of the loop. There was a lot I really liked about the loop. Educating myself and meeting new people. I liked that. Paperwork? Not so much. Annie has had a few arts-related jobs and is learning. My son volunteers for the local theatre and he also is discovering the joys and sorrows of THE LIFE.

I plan on attending more ArtWalks, readings, book signings, and the annual Governor’s Arts Awards gala. I miss it. I continue writing – that’s a priority. But all work and no play make Mike a dull boy. My advice: stay in touch with your schmoozing self. It keeps you engaged and the mind working, a concern for anyone over 70 which is where I find myself. I could play Wordle or assemble 1,000-piece puzzles. That would sharpen my synapses. I could do any number of things in retirement. An Atlantic Magazine Online piece this week asked "Why so many people are unhappy in retirement." The subhead: "Too often, we imagine life to be like the hero's journey and leave out the crucial last step: letting go." I could only read the first graf before the paywell clicked in. But I got the gist. Nobody wants to let go. Our entire life is based on beingness. We are not equipped to grasp nothingness. So we rage, rage, against the dying of the light. Or we sulk. Or lurk on social media. Or watch Fox News all day and experience the sweet rush of having our brains sucked from our heads.

I will choose engagement. I feel alive then and can delay thoughts of letting go for just one more day.

Two Chicano artists from Wyoming tell their stories at Meow Wolf Denver

There's a story here.

That's what I said to myself when I found out that two Chicano artists with Wyoming roots were charged with installing their artwork in the trippy Meow Wolf Denver.

WyoFile agreed and published it today. Go read it here.

Adrian H. Molina (a.k.a. Molina Speaks) is "an artist, performer, master of ceremonies, and human bridge." He grew up in Rawlins, earned his undergrad and law degrees at UW, and then departed to Denver to pursue not law but art.

Visual artist Stevon Lucero grew up in Laramie, attended UW and, in 1976 departed for Denver with his young family in tow.

The two artists are members of the burgeoning Denver Latino arts community. They still maintain ties with Wyoming but their careers now radiate from the big city to the south.

Two more members of what Grady Kirkpatrick on Wyoming Public Radio refers to as "the Greater Wyoming Diaspora." Young people grow up here, attend UW, and then depart for greener pastures. Cities are magnets for creative people where they find encouragement and audiences. Disappointment, too, as artists from rural communities find they are competing with scores of equally talented people. That may beat them down or it may challenge them to excel. One never knows.

I've worked in the Wyoming arts scene for 30 years. Creativity prospers in the expected places and ones that surprise you. Sometimes artists become part of the Wyoming diaspora but you can see the place's influence in their work. That's true of Lucero's paintings at Meow Wolf inspired by lucid dreaming about an oddball Wyoming landmark. 

Meow Wolf Denver opened Sept. 17. Some interesting articles about it have appeared. Here's one. Molina is quoted therein. 

Jackson Hole Art Blog keeps me posted about arts events in Teton County and beyond

I spent two hours this morning reading Tammy Christel’s Jackson Hole Art Blog and 12 days of posts on Tammy’s Facebook page about the fall arts festival. Wonderful blog post about David Brookover’s photo techniques and the methods he uses to visualize the Tetons and valley wildlife. Great detail about the various papers he uses. I learned so much about silver prints and platinums and photogravures.  

Tammy FB-tracked the busy 12 days in Jackson with the fall arts festival. An arts extravaganza for what may be the most beautiful month in The Hole. Funny to note the clothing choices of artists painting en plein air. At the Quick Draw, artist Jason Borbet, clad in sweat shirt and bright-red mittens, paints the Tetons/Snake River vista made famous by Ansel Adams. Emily Boespflug decked out for a run down the slopes with gloves, three layers of jackets, a red scarf and wool cap. She’s putting the finishing touches on a painting while onlookers in stocking caps observe her progress. Fall in Jackson – winter one day, summer the next.

Tammy kept track of the many events and also logged in some of the accompanying fun things – Sunday Brunch Gallery Walk with gigantic Bloody Marys topped off with onion rings and the many studio open houses, including Laurie Thal’s cool glass-blowing workplace in Wilson. Tammy also logs in some of the prices paid for artwork. For the casual arts buyer, the prices are astounding. Someone paid $1.2 million for Howard Terpning’s “Vanishing Pony Tracks” oil (writes Tammy: “Wowza!”) and $65,000 for Gary Lynn Roberts Quick Draw painting of a winter day at the Wort Hotel in days gone by.

Impressive numbers. But not unusual for a noted arts town such as Jackson. It was ranked the number one small community on the list of The Most Vibrant Arts Communities in America 2020. That’s from the National Center for Arts Research at Southern Methodist University in Dallas.

The top five were all in the Mountain West. Along with Jackson (which includes Wilson and Teton Village, Wyo., and Victor and Driggs, Idaho just over Teton Pass) were Steamboat Springs, Colo.; Heber, Utah; Hailey, Idaho; and Glenwood Springs, Colo. All of these places are within a day’s drive from my house. At 677 miles, Hailey would be a bit of a stretch, although Chris and I have logged one-day drives of 995 miles from our son’s place in Tucson. Long-distance driving skills are a necessity in our part of the world. It’s also good to note that three of the arts towns on the list of medium-sized communities are Boulder, Colo. (100 miles), Santa Fe, N.M.. (492 miles) and Bozeman, Mont. (595 miles). Note that Steamboat, Glenwood and Boulder are closer to me than Jackson, a mere 432 miles away, about the same distance as Heber City and Santa Fe.

As you can see, I live in the orbit of some of our country’s artsiest towns. Cheyenne is not in the SMU top ten. That’s OK – our arts scene is growing and we are very close to Denver and other pretty darn good arts town along the Front Range. Fort Collins has a multitude of outdoor music events promoted by the zillion craft brewers in town. I also like to browse the CSU Arts Center in the Old Fort Collins H.S. (Go Lambkins!). During the warmer months, you can find me outside perusing CSU Ag’s beautiful test garden and its large Xeriscape garden. Loveland is sculpture town. Visit and of the city parks to find an array of sculpture, from the representational to the avant-garde. I like the Chapungu African Sculpture Park east of the sprawling Centerra Center at I-25 and Hwy. 34. It features 82 hard-carved stone sculptures in a park with 600 trees of 20 species along with natïve shrubs and grasses. Wild Wonderful Weekend takes place there this weekend with a Saturday evening concert by American Authors who are actually American rockers.

As is true for many Cheyennites, we spend a lot of time at Colorado venues. We also support local arts. You can do both.

The top-five small arts communities mentioned above are all destination resorts for summer and winter sports. The rich have gravitated to these places so they can brag about swapping tall tales with real local cowboys at the Million Dollar Cowboy Bar. They also like the views or viewsheds as realtors call them. It’s easy to be snarky about the scene and the outrageous prices paid for some art. Local writers have had some fun poking fun at the migratory riche, nouveau or otherwise (I’m looking at you Tim Sandlin). 

But I always loved traveling to Jackson for arts events and get there as often as I can. At all other times, I depend on Tammy’s blog and Facebook posts to transport me to its arts happenings.  

A prelude to fall this weekend at Cheyenne Botanic Gardens Harvest Festival

I'm volunteering Saturday afternoon at the Cheyenne Botanic Gardens front desk. The place will be hopping with the annual Heirlooms and Blooms Harvest Market from 10 a.m.-5 p.m. (noon to 4 on Sunday). This is the Gardens' first big event since the advent of Covid. Supposed to be a nice day. The farmers' market and the Shawn Dubie Memorial Rodeo happens Saturday at Frontier Park so it should be a lively day in the neighborhood. Drop by the front desk between noon and 3 and say hi. 

From the CBG press release:

CHEYENNE – Don’t wait for the chill of the holiday season to start shopping for your loved ones or yourself! 

Join the Cheyenne Botanic Gardens, 710 S. Lions Park Dr., for an expanded indoor/outdoor harvest market at the most bountiful and beautiful time of year at the Gardens! This two-day event, on Saturday, Sept. 11, from 10 a.m. to 5 p.m. and Sunday, Sept. 12 from 12 p.m. to 4 p.m., will have a variety of regionally made gifts from artists and craftsmen selling everything from home decor, woodworking, art and jewelry, dog treats, baked goods, apparel, and so much more! 

Make it an outing for the whole family and enjoy some delicious food from our food vendors, and activities for the kids! Admission is free, so come and enjoy the lush surroundings of the Gardens as you get ahead of your Fall decorating and Holiday shopping! 

Additional free parking is available across the street in Frontier Days Lot C. 

FMI: Aaron Summers, 307-637-6458.

P.S. Cheyenne writer Barb Gorges will be on hand from 11 a.m.-1 p.m. Saturday and noon-4 p.m. Sunday to sign her books, "Cheyenne Garden Gossip" and "Cheyenne Birds by the Month."

History and storytelling in historical fiction

One of the great things about historical fiction is the discovery of familiar names whom I know little or nothing about. This, of course, makes me want to know more.

Dorothea Lange is known for the most famous photo of Depression America. You know the one – the portrait of the poor mother and child taken in a California work camp. The subject wears the gloom of the Depression in her eyes and her slumped shoulders. Something heroic about her, too, something almost mother-and-child Biblical. 

Lange took the photo in 1936 after gathering a lifetime of expertise and a lifetime of hurt, some of that at the hands of her husband, Maynard Dixon. I had heard Dixon’s name mentioned in arts circles and had seen some of his paintings at the Center of the West in Cody and the Denver Art Museum. I know nothing of the man.

Curiosity caused me to pick up the historical novel “The Bohemians” by Jasmin Darznik. It opens in 1918 San Francisco and I am curious about the era in American history because I am writing about it. I picked up the book from the seven-day shelf knowing I could not read it in seven days because I was guiding Florida family members around Wyoming for that week. Then I saw it was dedicated to California poet Rebecca Foust. I knew that if a fine poet such as Rebecca was attached to this book that it was a good one. So who cares about a late fee?

I’m only about two-thirds through the novel but know that Dixon plays a major role in Lange’s life and vice versa. I looked up Dixon to see some of his paintings and recognized several and his famous style. I looked up Lange to reacquaint myself with the famous photo. I didn’t want to read too much since I want to maintain the suspense that Darznik develops. Now I can continue…

How true is historical fiction? I fall back on this phrase: “This book (movie) is based on real events (real people) but is a work of fiction.” The fiction writer reserves the right to merge with their character’s protoplasm to bring them to life. It’s the writer’s view based on what may be years of research. The reader gets to decide if it’s a good and believable story.

“The Bohemians” seems believable. I’ll let you know my final thoughts when I finish.

I will tell you that “The Ridgeline” by Michael Punke is a true and believable story of the events in Wyoming during Red Cloud’s War in 1866. It focused on the characters involved in the Fetterman Fight. We see the Oglala side through Crazy Horse, Red Cloud, and some young warriors. We see the cavalry side from journal entries by a young bride who has accompanied her brash husband to Wyoming. Other “invader” voices include Lt. Crummond, the doomed Capt. Fetterman, the acerbic and aging Jim Bridger, several young soldiers, a camp follower, and an occasional snide look at policy-makers in D.C.

It’s a ripping yarn as I say in a review soon to be published on another online Wyocentric site. It’s cool that it was written by a Wyoming native but not necessary to the story. It’s a good read. Reminded me that the Fetterman Fight site (usually labeled “the Fetterman Massacre”) is preserved by the State of Wyoming as is the Wagon Box Fight and Fort Phil Kearny. Museums in Johnson and Sheridan counties have exhibits about the Indian wars. It’s often told from the conqueror’s POV. But remember: “Custer’s Last Stand” or the “Custer Massacre” used to be the terms for the famous national historic site in southern Montana. It was renamed Little Bighorn Battlefield National Monument and was the first NPS entity to hire a Native American superintendent. To the Lakota or Sioux Nation, June 25 is Victory Day in the 1876 Battle of Greasy Grass.

Reading “The Ridgeline” helped me see the Fetterman Fight as a military encounter and a battle between opposing cultures. It’s the most notable event in a long line of battles between U.S. horse soldiers and the native horse soldiers of the Northern Plains. As a kid in the 1950s in the Rocky Mountain West, I was steeped in the glory of Custer’s Last Stand. As an adult, I now get to see the encounter from the POV of all sides. I am a curious adult. Not sure what schoolkids are learning about the Plains Wars. Let’s hope that a bit of reality creeps into schools now being assaulted by right-wing zealots who believe in a whitewashed version of history.

Read my review of Anna North’s alternative historical novel “Outlawed” centered around the Sundance Kid and the Hole-in-the-Wall Gang of Wyoming.

Pandemic tip: You can view most Wyoming public art from the comfort and safety of your car

I was noodling around on my PC and I clicked on the Cheyenne Arts web site. I was pleased to see an upgraded site now includes a Cheyenne Arts Public Art Tour. Kudos to Bill Lindstrom and the tech-savvy people who compiled the tour. Open the site and find a portfolio of the 82 registered public artworks. Click on the photo to go to the page to find more photos and some background on the piece. Location is listed at the bottom of the page. There's a link to a Google Maps which takes you to the map and lists the public art's latitude and longitude. This assists those touring with the help of GPS and also geocaching aficionados. When I was at the Wyoming Arts Council, I was part of many discussions for online tours in Cheyenne, other communities, and statewide. Locally, it never happened until Arts Cheyenne took it on. 

Sheridan Public Arts has been around since 1992. Its permanent collection boasts 59 pieces. Artists and museums loan pieces to exhibit on Grinnell Plaza and downtown. One of the latest is a sculpture by the late Native American artist Allan Houser. No better way to spend a summer day -- tour the art and wrap it up at Black Tooth Brewing Company for craft beers and discussion. 

Not sure if Casper has an online public art tour but the city has many pieces of representational and non-representational artwork. One of my faves is on the Casper College campus. It's "Man and Energy" by Robert Russin. Its somber nature flashed me back to my duck-and-cover nuke drill days. The artist, who died in 2007 was a New York transplant who taught at UW for almost four decades. He is best known for his massive bronze Lincoln head perched at the top of Sherman Hill. Visit Casper is developing an Arts & Culture Pass. Not many offerings yet but these things take time. 

Russin also is known for the playful family sculpture installed in 1983 on UW's Prexy's Pasture. "The University Family" represents a nuclear family of three in white marble. Recently, it has been criticized because it doesn't represent a broader range of UW students and family. One proposal is to move it indoors to protect it and replace it with a more monumental sculpture, such as a bronze of graduating students or a bucking horse and rider. As if the UW campus doesn't already have bucking horses and riders aplenty.

Here's the thing about public art: it's easy to criticize because it's so public. In our bitterly divided country, artwork can be attacked from many sides. And is. The coal/oil/gas lobby that pours millions into UW objected to a public artwork called "Carbon Sink: What Goes Around Comes Around" by Chris Drury. UW decided to spirit it away in the dead of night and allegedly burned its beetle-killed logs and chunks of coal in the campus furnace. Many art students were kept warm that night by a funeral pyre of public art.

Russin's "Fountainhead" sculpture outside of the Casper City Hall came under fire for its water feature. The sculpture shows three stylized red oilfield workers surrounding a pole that represents an oil well. Water once shot out of the top to represent oil but had the bad manners to dampen city bureaucrats on Casper's many windy days. Now the water feature ponds peacefully below the artwork.   

Get more on the Casper arts scene via the ARTCORE site. 

The best-known public art program in Wyoming is in Jackson. 

When I started making work trips to Teton County in 1991, the town's library was in a log cabin. A sleek new library replaced it and is now home to a unique public artwork, "Filament Mind." It's indoors so it's a bit less visible than most public art. But it's worth a visit. A short description:

Installed in January 2013, the sculpture is visually arresting: nearly 1,000 thread-like filaments cascade from a mainframe column. Transcending its technological sophistication, the sculpture exudes a life-like aesthetic, at times resembling a bird in flight, a waterfall, a mountain, a crater, even the willows that whistle around the valley. Each filament flows from the column to the wall and an anchor point tagged by a Dewey Decimal System section title.

 

When a visitor begins a search on WyldCat – the online inventory of the library organized by the Dewey Decimal System – a LED light glows on the filament corresponding with that Dewey Decimal section title – say “International Relations” – and related topics glow as well – like “Political Science.”

 

Filament Mind is designed to be the visual brain of the library and by extension, the community.

Wyomingites from less scenic parts of the state pick on Jackson Hole for its chi-chi attributes. See "Billionaire Wilderness: The Ultra-Wealthy and the Remaking of the American West" by Justin Farrell and Tim Sandlin's "The Pyms: Unauthorized Tales of Jackson Hole." I've made my share of smart-ass remarks on the subject. 

But Teton County boosts Wyoming's stature as an arts-friendly state. Rich residents are arts patrons and assist arts orgs and facilities with generous donations. The annual Old Bill's Fun Run is a Teton County tradition and raises a ton of money for local orgs. Local, state, and federal funds are a part of the mix.

The Hole is home to the National Museum of Wildlife Art and its amazing collections. It hosts tours of its outdoor sculpture. Many artists and writers I know came to Jackson in the good ol' days of cheap, crowded housing (think ski bum) and many short-term service-industry jobs. Many fled as prices climbed but those creative people who stayed are a stubborn lot. 

For insight on the Teton County art scene, go to Tammy Christel's Jackson Hole Art Blog and Jackson Hole Public Art. 

The Wyoming Arts Council supervises the state's public art initiative. Go to https://wyoarts.state.wy.us for more info and calls for entries.

As the pandemic winds down (we hope), summer visitors may be feeling a bit skittish about touring Wyoming (see "Least Vaccinated U.S. Counties Have Something in Common: Trump Voters"). It may be tough to feel safe at a jam-packed music festival or brewfest. 

But no worries, as most public art can be viewed from the comfort and safety of your vehicle. My high-risk family and I cruised Cheyenne's Paint Slingers Art Festival last July. We watched many of the muralists at work, even shouted out questions to the artists and they shouted their answers. We also attended movies and concerts at the Terry Ranch's Chinook Drive-in. We viewed from our car and listened via a dedicated FM station. 

Covid-19 changed so much. We felt the absence of people gathering to enjoy music, dance, and theatre. It also showed us that creativity can bloom in hard times. 

Art and writing share a sense of mystery

My colleague Sue Sommers in the Studio Wyoming Review group opened up her latest review of an art show with this writer's quote: 

“I write entirely to find out what I’m thinking, what I’m looking at, what I see and what it means.” —Joan Didion, “Why I Write” (1976, the New York Times Book Review)

This is a theme that I've stressed with student writers over the years. It's a cousin to a quote by Flannery O'Connor: 

“I write because I don't know what I think until I read what I say.”

Before I spent a lifetime as a writer, I would have disagreed with these quotes. "I'm good. I know what I think -- it's right here in my head." I wasn't mature enough to understand what Didion and O'Connor were saying. 

The act of writing is a transition. The idea is a bit of ether, an unformed thing in our mind. Writing transforms what is in my head to another thing altogether. Writing, also an act of translation, gives shape to the idea. Sometimes, results surprise us. We also may be frustrated when the results don't seem quite right. 

It's not just the mind at work. It's also heart and soul, bloodstream and gut. The entire human ecosystem gets into the act.

This is what is so hard to explain to student writers. What is this thing that you are trying to tell me? Reach deep. What does it feel like? What does it smell like? Use your senses. 

My daughter Annie was writing a composition paper on sexism. She knew I had taught a lot of college composition classes. I read it, encouraged her to dig deeper. She wasn't really having it as the paper was due to next day. She insisted that she had satisfied the assignment and I couldn't really argue with her. The professor gave her paper a 90 and she was disappointed. I said nothing.

What could I say? I've spent decades in an effort to unravel my thoughts for the printed page/computer screen. I know the tricks of the trade. In the end, I'm not sure exactly what happens to turn the scrap of an idea into a finished story, novel, or blog post. I'm rarely satisfied with the result. But I keep at it because there's no way I can give up the pursuit. It's part of me.

Sue Sommers' review of "Bold Wanderings" at Pinedale's Mystery Print Gallery points out some of the traits and mysteries of creativity, whether you be artist or writer. Read the review for details (link at the top).