A Longtime Fascination

The first time I photographed the old homestead, back in 1987; then again as it appeared in 2015.

Years ago, I kept a blog on a free Wordpress site that covered topics ranging from photography to road cycling to my stroke recovery. I’m not really using the site anymore, so I decided to delete it. The following article was originally published in 2015 on that site, but I thought it might be of interest here. The article really traces my fascination with the abandoned and decay back to when I was a teenager first learning to use a film SLR camera. Enjoy.

Then and Again

In the spring of 1987, I was an awkward junior in high school. On a blustery day probably in April or May, I took a road trip with my mom from our hometown of Sheridan, Wyoming, to Laramie, Wyoming, to visit my older brother, who was attending the University of Wyoming. At the time, I was delving into the world of photography for the first time, taking a photography elective at school and learning to see the world from a different perspective.  My school-owned 35mm film camera went everywhere I did.  It was on this particular trip that Mom stopped along a patch of Interstate 25 near mile marker 228 so I could run up the side of the hill to photograph an old homestead.

I-25 runs north-south beginning in Buffalo, Wyoming, continuing south until its exit into Colorado. I’m just old enough to remember the construction of the interstate, and what it was like to make the 8-hour trip from Sheridan to Denver, CO on the “old” two-lane highway when I was a child.  Throughout the state, many sections of the “new” highway rerouted drivers to new landscapes and away from small towns who relied on business from travelers; including the small oil town of Midwest.  Today, just before reaching the southbound exit for Midwest at about mile marker 228, lies the remains of the old homestead.  It’s easily noticeable from the road because of the two cottonwood trees planted on either side of the house, the only two trees for miles around.  But you have stop, get out of the car, and walk to the top of the hill before the old house can really be seen. 

The homestead as seen from Google Maps in 2015. Screenshot courtesy Google Maps

I took one or two rolls of film that trip.  In those days, film was expensive and shots were planned.  You didn’t waste film, because bad shots couldn’t simply be deleted.  I processed and printed the pictures myself in the darkroom at my high school.  The picture of the house became part of a photo essay about Wyoming landscapes (I got an A), and afterward, was packed away in an accordion folder with most of my other high school photography work for many years.

I now live in Cheyenne, Wyoming, and have made the trip between my home back to Sheridan, where my Mom, sister, and friends still live, many times over many years.  Each time, I see the old homestead and have watched with equal parts sadness and fascination as it deteriorates.  One year, the porch roof finally fell, and the front door was obscured by the roof blocking the entrance.  Several years later, the back wall of the house fell in, and the two side walls remained, precariously holding up what was left of the roof.  A few years ago, the tree on the north side of the house died, but remains standing.  Finally, in the last year or two, the remaining walls collapsed, leaving a sad reminder of someone’s history at the mercy of the harsh Wyoming elements.

And whose history is it? The old homestead has sparked discussion between me and my husband over the years as we drove by.  Who lived there?  Someone once took pride in the old place.  It’s fenced, complete with welded pipe gates at the front and back of the house.  I seem to recall there used to be a clothesline, or the remains of one, in the yard.  When was it settled?  Why did they leave?  Were they ranchers?  Did children grow up there? Did they go into Midwest, which is several miles east of the property, to shop and interact with the community? Does someone still own the property?  Do they go visit the homestead? Interestingly, although I-25 now runs quite close to the homestead, the older roads do not go near it.  The home had to have been accessed from its own road or trail which most likely connected to a county road.  

As I look at the picture of the homestead in its current condition, I’m struck by the profound changes of time. Yes, it’s sad that the old house has fallen and one of the trees has died. After all, I can only imagine what kinds of memories were made within the tar-papered walls. Maybe some were good memories, maybe some were not. Perhaps the rooms were lit with oil lamps and warmed with a coal stove as the notorious Wyoming wind shrieked outside during winter. Possibly, hand-sewn cotton-print curtains hung in the windows and billowed softly as a summer breeze cooled the home on hot days. Conceivably, all those memories are still alive in someone’s mind, but they may also be gone forever with the passing of whoever lived there.

There’s something kind of beautiful about how this place, and hundreds of other abandoned places around our state, have reached the end of their lives naturally. Not razed by loud, dusty yellow iron making way for new progress, not remodeled into something newer but not quite its old self, not burned, dismantled, or otherwise assisted into decay by human effort. There it all lays, naked and barren, a pile of lumber and nails not terribly unlike the pile of lumber and nails it began as. It’s not morbid, it’s just the circle of life, Wyoming style. Windblown and forever West.

Postscript: Since I wrote this piece in 2015, the two cottonwoods have now died and fallen, making the homestead even more difficult to spot from the road. Another step taken in the property’s reintegration into the natural earth.

Show Season Recap

I’m nearing the end of my second summer art festival season, and I wanted to share some of the things I’ve learned this year.

I have discovered that one of my favorite things about festivals other than sharing and selling my art is meeting and discovering fellow artists. I have met the most interesting and amazingly creative people at each show. Some of them are becoming friends that I stay in touch with. I have met painters of all kinds of disciplines - acrylic, oils, watercolors, mixed media. I’ve met printmakers, other photographers, sculptors, jewelers, potters and ceramists, and glass artists. I have learned that none of us are in competition with each other, not even within the same discipline. We all have a different vision to share with others.

A typical booth set up this summer with our new interior wall

Mark and I have our booth setup and teardown dialed in pretty well. We came up with an interior 3/4 wall this year, made out of materials we already had, which provides a place to sit and also store items unseen. This has really given my booth a much neater  and more “gallery-like” appearance. It takes us about three hours to completely set up, and two hours to tear everything down. We can still fit everything in the back of our Tacoma pickup, too- well, almost. We added a hitch carrier and a couple of aluminum boxes to help out.

I learn a lot from my customers and those who visit my booth. One of the biggest changes this summer was the addition of large format prints - something I was nervous about due to the initial cost investment, but that I was advised to try by several artist friends and also customers. Just after one show and one video on Facebook, I have one large format picture sold and another earmarked. My advisors were all right - I need to go big!

Tent, awning, interior mesh walls and poles, weight, tables, flip racks, interior grid wall, all accessories, and yes, all the artwork fits!

There are two challenges I will continue to work on. One is making the guess as to what customers want and how that balances with what I want to show and share. My backyard wildlife, such as the squirrels, bees, dragonfly, and fox continue to draw attention regularly. But if you know me, my heart is in the more emotional shots, the moods captured during storms and with the still life of abandoned prairie buildings and cars/trucks. I get it, they’re moody and pretty, but not necessarily something people want to hang on their wall. 

My other challenge is finding a balance between our show schedule, the painting and printmaking that I’m loving, and getting out to shoot. When we attend a weekend show, that’s actually about five days consisting of show prep and packing, traveling, the show itself, then another day after to unpack, update and put away inventory, etc. This little hobby of mine has become very busy! That doesn’t leave much time to take a day-long drive and go shooting somewhere. 

Please note that I am not complaining about anything! I am well aware and prayerfully grateful for this wonderful stage in our lives that we can participate in this art festival adventure. We hope to continue and even do more in the future. I can tell you that we don’t do it for the money. Anything I sell goes directly to pay for printing costs, booth fees and travel expenses. I wouldn’t trade this experience for anything. The unique opportunity I have to bring some joy to someone, to see them smile at my Peek-a-Boo squirrel or marvel at the dragonfly, or remember an old house or truck their grandpa used to have, is not lost on me. I was given a gift - a good “eye” as they say and the ability to express myself through drawing and painting. It’s up to me to share that God-given gift with others. Here’s a few of the painting and printmaking things I’ve been learning this summer:

Our world needs more positivity to offset the darkness that sometimes seems to overwhelm us. If you have time, go to an art festival or art show soon. Let the work you see soothe your senses or prickle your curiosity and contemplation. If you have some dollars to spare, support an artist you’re taken with by purchasing something meaningful to you. You won’t regret the purchase, and you can enjoy it every day in your own home or workplace. Art is important!

Hope to see you at a show soon.

Taking Stock

The last couple of months have been a little different than normal, as my mom had a brief illness that left her in need of a little extra help from March-June. My siblings and I took turns staying with her, running errands, taking her to doctors appointments, and helping her around the house. The last trip to my childhood home lasted three weeks, and I returned home for good about mid-June. Thankfully, Mom, at 86, is again independent and happily improving every day in her own home. We are all grateful.

The only painting I did while at my Mom’s.

I had great aspirations to do art; take photos, paint, sketch, and write while I stayed with my mom. I packed accordingly and brought work with me to do. Alas, not only did I not really have time for any of that (being a caretaker is a busy job!), but I just wasn’t emotionally invested in it. I feel like I’ve been in a funk for a few months now. At first I began to get upset about it. “I’m not posting new work” or “I don’t feel inspired,” were things I told myself. “Why don’t I feel inspired? I should be doing something!” I chastised myself. What I’ve come to understand is the time away from my creative process was not necessarily a bad thing. I was absolutely where I needed to be while I was helping my mom, and that was the most important thing I could be doing. Anything else was secondary. In a way, the difficult decisions regarding her healthcare we made together as a family unit, the responsibility I felt while caring for her and the bonding I experienced with my siblings was an important aspect of the assessment I find myself in now. It’s a good time to take a deep breath and take stock.

2024 Booth Setup

The rest of the summer will be quick and busy. I have been accepted into some great art festivals, and I’m literally taking stock of my stock…ordering prints, making sure I have everything I need for my setup, and updating my catalog. Participating in an art festival and having a good-looking booth with plenty of things to engage potential customers is no easy feat! As I enter my second season of doing this, I again reflect on the respect I have for fellow artists and the work it takes to do festivals. There’s a formula of sales vs. costs, travel expenses, and time that goes into each show opportunity. I am still figuring out my formula, but I’m really looking forward to my season and the opportunity to engage with photography and art lovers.

A Columbine taken in Colorado after a rainstorm

Another aspect of my self-assessment is the toe-dipping I’ve doing in other art media. From watercolor and acrylic paints (yikes, acrylics are not my favorite so far) to the new oil paints I have waiting for me in my art desk, to the linocut pads with their little pink shards scattered all over my work area; I am keeping an open mind as to what my “thing” might be beyond photography. For many years I have longed to be an artist, but I didn’t know when or how or in what medium. Now that I have the freedom to do anything I’d like, it’s an exciting but overwhelming prospect. I don’t want to be a “jack of all trades, master of none,” but rather, I want to focus on photography and perhaps one or two other mediums where I can find my groove. Somehow, I think there’s a way to marry my love for photography with my other art interests. I don’t know what that looks like yet, but the the anticipation of discovery is invigorating.

Cheers to taking stock: good summer, good discoveries, good downtime, good people and good things to come!

Grateful Journey

Me doing one of my favorite things in the world - playing around with my camera in the desert. Arches National Park

March was a very busy month for my photography, in yet more ways I didn’t expect. Along with my solo show at Blue Door Arts, three of my works are part of the CFD Old West Museum’s annual (43rd) Western Spirit Art Show and Sale. 

I love to attend the artist workshop as well as the show opening for the Western Spirit show. This is my second year. The artist workshop is an awesome way to meet other artists in the show, as well as hear from experienced artists and gallery owners regarding everything from marketing to framing. The networking opportunities continued at the show opening, where both last year and this year, I met and connected with some great people. Last year, I met an artist who has now become a close, important friend. She and I learned that we both had strokes on the same day (how weird is that?!), though hers was a couple of years after mine. Our similarities in character and personality drew us together like magnets. I treasure her friendship. This year, I met even more artists and hung out with others I’ve met previously. This is not a world where I feel out of place or apprehensive about participating. We are all lovers of art, creating in different ways, but joined together by a common bond of expressing ourselves through color, process, and imagination. As if all that artsy camaraderie weren’t enough, I was shocked to hear my name announced with the group of winners for the show at the opening! My photograph, “Miner’s Boots,” was named “Best Photograph” at the show. It was a real honor.

Mark in the slot canyon we visited near Kanab, Utah. Ancient Anasazi steps can be seen notched into the rock above and to the right of Mark.

I got my annual winter itch in March to get out of town for a while and head south to red rock country: Utah. I dearly love the desert, and my yearning to be in it grows stronger with time. Being in the midst of the red rocks fuels my soul and makes me feel whole and ready to face the rest of the winter when I return home. Poor Mark, he puts up with my wanderlust for the desert and tolerates me as I gather books and read more about this beautiful land. But hey! I got to visit a slot canyon for the first time and it was every bit as incredible as I imagined it would be. And we had a terrific guide who let us meander and didn’t hurry us. What a magical experience.

I’m ever so grateful to Mark for following along on my search for something in the desert I haven’t found yet, but for which I enjoy the hunt.

“Wilderness is not a luxury but a necessity of the human spirit, and as vital to our lives as water and good bread.”

-Edward Abbey, Desert Solitaire

As March passed and now April has begun, I’m starting to shift focus to the summer festival season. As of today, I’ve been accepted or invited to participate in five shows, with several others I’m waiting for notification about. Beginning on Memorial Day Weekend, I’ll be in Brigham City, Utah for the Art on Main Festival. In mid-July, I’ll have a display at the Wyoming International Film Festival. Late July will be a busy one with two consecutive weekends at the Pearl Street Arts Festival in Boulder, CO, and the Art Fair Jackson Hole in Jackson Hole, Wyoming. Labor Day weekend will take us to Dillon, CO for the art festival there.

I’m also enjoying dabbling in some painting again. I haven’t painted oils since college, which was a minute ago! I purchased some water-based oils that I’m hoping to have time for very soon. But a super fun painting medium I’m currently learning is watercolor. I don’t recall ever learning watercolor in my college art classes, so my foray into them now is new and rewarding. I don’t know where the urge to paint again will lead me, but I am happy with whatever outcome that might be.

And so I write this today with gratefulness for my journey. I am working hard at this new “career” I find myself in, but not in a stressful, burning-the-candle-at-both-ends kind of way. It’s a steady pace. Looking for and responding to opportunities, being mindful about time for art every day if possible, and immersing myself daily in a positive, productive lifestyle, thought and learning, and social interaction are markers of my overall sense of place and purpose. None of this would be possible without faith and prayer, either. Mentioned last here, but first and foremost in my mind every day I wake. I am grateful for opportunities and failures, new experiences and familiar ones, the love and friendship present in my life, and the grounded roots my faith provides me to weather the cloudy days. 

Mark gazing out on the beautiful Needles District in Canyonlands National Park, Utah.

Art in the Heart

I had a lot of professional excitement this month in photography. It seems a little strange to put the label, ‘career,’ on the lifelong passion that I hold so dear. But a career it has become. 

A career in photography has a lot of different variations. There are portrait photographers, wedding and event photographers, fashion photographers, travel photographers, commercial photographers, photojournalists, freelancers…the list goes on and on. There are also photographers like myself who, if asked to categorize the type of work they do, would call themselves a fine art photographer. What’s the difference, one might ask? The difference lies in where the heart is, and in what drives the brain. Every photographer who focuses on a specific discipline puts their whole heart into it. There’s no doubt that photographers of all kinds can perform multiple types of photography - I can and I do (although I have turned down wedding requests- I know myself enough to know I couldn’t handle the anxiety of photographing such a high-stakes event). I certainly enjoy doing portrait sessions and love the opportunity to photograph small events or respond to friends’ requests for special projects. But my heart is in the art. 

The more I focus my energy on the learning and absorption of all things art, the more attentive I am to improving my skills and growing my knowledge. The more I focus, the less I let the shadows of doubt gathered at the corners of my mental viewfinder cloud my thinking. “Am I good enough?” “What if this is it, and I don’t produce another good image?” “What if people don’t like what I’m doing?” All those irrational and maddening doubts happen to many artists. It’s important that artists believe in themselves, no matter the rejections experienced, and no matter the negative thoughts we allow to surface. If I don’t believe in myself, how can I ask others to believe in me and the art I’m creating?

One of the biggest lessons I’ve learned so far is to trust what I feel about an image, and not what I think might be popular or what might sell. One such image was taken a few years ago and added to my catalog, but I didn’t want to show it for a long time because I worried it might not be well received. “Too abstract,” I thought. “Too atypical.” Last year, despite my self-doubt, I chose it to be my juried piece at the St. George Art Festival, my very first juried festival. The piece won First Place in Photography! That was an amazing validation of my instinct! This piece has been juried into a couple of other exhibits, and I’ve been thrilled to see and hear people’s reactions to it. Just last week, this same piece was awarded the Governor’s Choice Award along with a Capitol Art Collection Purchase Award. The Governor and First Lady chose my piece, among all the amazing artwork in the exhibit. I was so surprised and humbled. Additionally, Sunset Calm (aka Jackson Reservoir Sunset) will now be part of the permanent art collection belonging to the Wyoming State Museum. 

So it seems I have added a couple of notches to my endeavors in art photography. These accolades are very meaningful to me. I reflect often on what I’m doing and ask, through prayer, if I’m where I need to be. So far, the answer comes back ‘Yes. Keep at it.’ The reward is not monetary, and that’s ok. The reward of knowing that an image I created using my camera as the tool meant something to someone -touched their emotions, made them feel something positive, cannot be replicated in many other ways. I use the art in my heart to reach someone else’s heart. That’s powerful!

My other excitement this month has been my solo show hosted by Blue Door Arts in Cheyenne. I was thrilled to be asked to be the guest artist there for February and March. The opening night during Friday Art Walk was wonderful, and I was able to visit with old friends, new friends, and art lovers alike. My show continues this month, with another Friday Art Walk coming up on March 1, from 5-8 pm. If you were unable to come in February, I hope you can come on March 1.  

Additionally, if you’re out and about for Friday Art Walk on March 1, you can see even more of my work at Clay Paper Scissors Gallery, where “In The Garden” will be opening. Stop by and see all the wonderful pieces to get you excited for Spring. Boss Lady and Don’t Leave Me Beehind from my bee series are part of the exhibit.

Time to Move Forward

It’s a good day to write and reflect. This year started a little strange for us. My father-in-law, Mark’s stepfather, passed away after a short-lived battle with liver cancer on Christmas Eve. We were all expecting to spend Christmas Day together, and he was looking forward to seeing our son, who flew home for Christmas, and our daughter, whom he had just seen a month earlier at Thanksgiving. Our family sort of floated through the holiday season in a weird state with all that happened, and we’re all still processing it. 

Just a week before Christmas, I broke my foot; not even a story-worthy cause! Nonetheless, I am in an AirCast boot and pretty limited on how much I can walk until the end of January. Between the recent injury and Larry’s illness for several months prior, I haven’t been out shooting for a while. And the less time I am behind the lens, the more I feel disconnected from my art. I haven’t done any sketching, journaling, or much of anything art-minded lately.

Steamboat Snow Fence, Big Horn Mountains, November 2023

I recently sat down at the computer and went through the hundreds of photos I took in 2023. I came up with about 50 that I liked out of all those. Of that 50, I’ll probably only add a portion to my permanent catalog. I look at this collection of chosen and see some growth; using new techniques and the new gear I’ve been able to purchase after the Great Water Disaster (a story for another day). I see some recurring themes; abandoned houses with stormy skies, and gnarly old trees in wildflower fields. They’re familiar-themed but different from what I’ve taken before. I also see a new area that I want to explore more this year. Black and whites - old school film as well as digital black and white. We’re so immersed in a real and digital world of color, that I have forgotten how beautiful the simplicity of black and white photos are. 

Compositionally, shooting in black and white is different than color. Contrast and shadow are vital. Some of my nature subjects like flowers and pretty fall grasses look like a washed-out field of gray in black and white. I am interested in going back to my roots, back to the basics of black and white, and rediscovering the beauty of composition, shape, line, and contrast. Steamboat Snow Fence is an image I very much like. I will have it available online soon.

My father-in-law, Larry, was a brilliant man in his prime. He held a doctorate in wildlife biology, was an accomplished scientist, college professor, business entrepreneur, and, as anyone who knew him will tell you, wine connoisseur. He was generous with me in many ways, and I came to have a special bond with him over several years when I helped him produce his two books. We worked well together, and I take pride in my part in helping him create the two volumes of stories that are now his life’s anthology. He was also an amateur photographer and an art lover and encouraged me to pursue my passion. I gave him several prints over the years, but his favorite was “Winter Lean,” shown above. That photo holds a special place for me now, knowing how much he enjoyed it.

2024 has started a little rough, but I think good things are ahead. I will find my mojo again. I think about Larry’s legacy and that turns into thinking about what I want my art legacy to be. This last Christmas, I had three friends and clients who custom-ordered specific photos for their loved ones. All three gift recipients were very happy, “thrilled” as I was told, with their gifts. They were photos that meant something to the recipients, evoked an emotional response, and made them feel happy or reminded them of a special person in their lives. I can’t think of a better art legacy than that.

Goodbye 2023, and all the difficulties as well as good memories. Time to move forward!

Close to Home

As a new artist to the summer art festival circuit this past summer, I’ve learned a lot about all the work it takes to show one’s art at an event. Each show opened my eyes to new tidbits of information, industry tips from other artists, and the ins and outs of consumer behavior. One of the most interesting observations I made was that some of my most popular images are the ones I’ve captured close to home.

We live in a 1940 Tudor cottage in a historic neighborhood filled with mature trees and adjacent to a beautiful city park and a small lake. We love it here. I can often be seen sporting my camera around the house, in the yard, or out on walks with my husband and dog. It’s on these short jaunts that I frequently find interesting compositions.

Boss Lady

One of the most popular series of images I started showing this year is the Bee series. The birdbath that sits just outside our front door in a perennial flower bed became a favorite watering hole to some honey bees. The bees visited every day, all summer long. We had never seen so many lined up on the edge of the birdbath. I love hearing people’s stories and memories about bees or beekeeping when they see my images.

Alley Squirrel

Alley Squirrel was taken in the alley behind our house. The squirrel in the photo made a nest in a small box nailed to a utility pole. It was wary of my presence when I approached with my long lens but tolerated me long enough to capture a memorable expression.

Sparrow Convention

One of my newest images, Sparrow Convention, will be exhibited for the first time at the 43rd Western Spirit Art Show and Sale at the CFD Old West Museum this coming March. I took this image right out my dining room window.

Winter Lean

Four Seasons

The city park and lake in our neighborhood is host to a plethora of urban wildlife. Sometimes though, the weather creates unique opportunities that go beyond the norm. One such day was very foggy and cold, with hoarfrost covering all the trees and shrubs. The strong contrast between white fog and branches and the dark, wet tree trunks allowed me to notice three old, wind-shaped cottonwood trees as if I’d seen them for the first time. Winter Lean won Best of Show in an art show in Brigham, Utah, and has been shown at other exhibits. I was so interested in the winter trees, I decided to create a four-season retrospective of them. The Four Seasons is now available as a limited edition giclée.

Blue-Tipped Danner #2

One of my most memorable backyard experiences occurred at a previous home, during a summer with large wildfires in the area. Our skies were thick with smoke for weeks. One evening, a flight of Blue-Tipped Danner dragonflies landed in our chokecherry trees. They hung out for several hours before sunset. We had never seen so many at once before, or since. Dragonflies are very symbolic to many people. I count myself extremely lucky to have experienced such an event.

As an artist, it’s easy for me to get caught up in dreams of travel, thinking of places I’d like to photograph or things I’d like to see. But more often than not, the most wonderful occurrences have happened right where I live, close to home.