some writings

my favorite walk to the brush creek

evening skies at brush creek ranch

laundry

rock, knot, buck

roots

I stare at the white cottons hanging. I read. I write. I walk. And then . . .

in preparation

walking the brush creek

I need the sound of the cold waters of Brush Creek at least once, if not twice, per day. My place is always at the water's edge.

Close my eyes, let the water sounds envelope me. What's the first thing that comes to mind? That is what I take back to my studio. I am grounded here.

We're at 8,000 feet on the Brush Creek Ranch. Walking up hills is a challenge, but it gets better with each climb. Stopping to take a breath gives my eyes a focus on the landscape instead of on my boots in the snow and mud.

And Biggie, one of the three ranch dogs, somehow always finds me on my journeys. We talk to each other, and I swear Biggie tags along just to keep me safe. (Supposedly, the ranch dogs keep the mountain lions away.)

white cottons hanging

[April 3, 2014] I spent a great deal of yesterday hanging and re-hanging my white cottons and taking over 150 photos of them - the variety of whites, the drapes, the folds - ethereal. Documenting this long-term project is significant to me, so I'll share bits of it with you along the way. My plan is to determine the overall theme, which will most likely be an intimate memoir. Each cotton item will be one aspect of the overall theme, some items with writing and some with drawing. It all begins with the white cotton eyelet mini dress that I wore when I got married in Switzerland in 1972. I wrote of my wedding, marriage, and divorce on the inside of that dress. Now, where do I go from there? My residency at Brush Creek is specifically to help answer that question.

my studio at brush creek

[April 3, 2014] There are four visual artists' studios, a kitchen/dining area, a library, and a bathroom in this building. I have studio C. It has heated cement floors and fantastic natural light. The musician (a pianist) has an old school house with the piano on the stage and rows of seating, like pews. He can pretend to have an admiring audience, and we can hear him diligently practicing as we walk by. The two writers have a little cabin with two rooms.

Of course, the first night I arrived at Brush Creek, I couldn't go to bed until I had rearranged the furniture in my studio, swept the floors and tables, and eliminated any distractions. I'm not in there all day, however, as one just has to enjoy the outdoors here, sun or snow. And I'm currently taking advantage of being in the Lodge to use faster WiFi.

first day at the brush creek foundation for the arts

[April 1, 2014] This is the Brush Creek Ranch Resort's Lodge, just outside of Saratoga, Wyoming. Because it's still winter time in April here, the lodge shuts down to monied guests until later in the spring or early summer. So we artists (there are seven of us: two men, five women, one musician, four visual artists, and two writers - I'm the oldest by more than 20 years, and I'm OK with that!) are allowed to sit in the lodge or use its gym. More on that as the days go by.

We live in the Artist Camp. We were each awarded this residency through a juried selection. Our stay here, including the food, is gratis, and we all have private studios and time to work on our various projects unencumbered by our normal daily lives.

Walk this way to our camp.

Down there.

The door to my private living quarters.

And the weather today went back and forth between the sky you see in the first photo of the Lodge and this one. It changed in 15-minute increments. On my hour-long walk this afternoon, I saw it all.

So today was about getting organized and acclimated to the environment and the people. I'm eager for tomorrow to bring more walking and plenty of time in the studio. Let the "study" begin.