Saturday, October 24, 2020

Mosaic Monday #102: Hockaday Museum of Art

Do you like museums?  I do.  And guess what?  So does #1 Son.  Having him home has brought many blessings, and one of them is having a museum buddy!  This post will share one of the two institutions that we patronized in September - the Hockaday Museum of Art. 


The Museum building was constructed in 1903 as a community library, funded by philanthropist Andrew Carnegie.  It was Kalispell's library until 1968 when the library relocated; the building then became the home of the Flathead Valley Art Association.  In 1969, the Museum was named for Hugh Hockaday (1892 - 1968), who was active in the Flathead Valley arts community until his death.

As with many museums, the exhibits change regularly.  At the time of our visit, the main level galleries housed A Timeless Legacy: Women Artists of Glacier National Park, showcasing the work of contemporary artists working in or near Glacier Park.

"The American Bison is an icon of strength and resilience.  When deep snow blankets the plains, bison use their large, powerful heads much like a plow pushing accumulation aside to forage for food.  These deep pathways create passageways for many other hoofed wildlife.  Bitter winds and record low temperatures sweep across the plains and yet the bison remains.  As the world faces challenges, we can look to wildlife such as the American Bison for hope and encouragement." (description next to this piece)

Taking pictures in a museum can be challenging; typically, the ones that allow photography request no flash.  Reflections on the glass over the artwork obscure parts of the piece.  You get it.  So I apologize if some of these photos seem to be at an odd angle, etc.
You may notice that two of the pieces in the mosaic above are by the same artist - I was drawn to her use of light.  And it is probably difficult for you to see in the lower left, but her brush strokes to create the grasses in Whistling Grasses were mesmerizing up close and impactful from a distance.

Nancy McLaughlin Powell (1932 - 1985) was born in Kalispell, Montana, and became noted for her depictions of Indian faces, horses and animals.  Her earlier works, like the one at right, are primarily pencil and pastel, but over her lifetime, she worked in a variety of media.  She was adopted into the Blackfeet tribe in the 1950s, and given the name Me Sa' Maxaki (Swan Woman).

McLaughlin attended Flathead High School in Kalispell, which has several works by her in its library.  She studied art at Montana State University, and was married to artist Ace Powell 1952 - 1965, with whom she ran a gallery in Hungry Horse, Montana.  After a lifetime of painting Montana and its residents, Nancy spent her last years in Newport, Washington.

Isabel Crawford's (1886-1973) fascination with art began at age 6 when her father gave her multi-colored pieces of chalk and a black slate board.  Her connection to Glacier started with a trip to the park in the early 1920s, which resulted in a number of oil paintings, including "Little Chief Mountain," which was exhibited at the Minneapolis Institute of Art in 1925.  In the 1930s, she produced multi-color wood block prints or serigraphs each December that she sent to her advertising clients.  The view of Sun Chalets and Lake St. Mary in the Hockaday permanent collection was one of those year-end gifts. 

Echo Ukrainetz is a native Montanan artist, specializing in the fine art of batik.  She has never taken classes in batik and has learned through trial and error.  Her preferred subject matter is drawn from history and the beauty of the state of Montana.  She often uses historical photographs because they evoke emotion and are an excellent historical record of a changing world.  

Arrow Top Knot was himself an artist.  In the mid-1900s, he painted a series of pictographs on canvas depicting his war-time exploits.  Originally hung on the walls of the hotels built by the Great Northern Railway in Glacier National Park, Top Knot's canvases were between 20 and 30 feet long.  But Top Knot's art was taken down in the 1950s when the Park adopted a cowboy theme.  Some of his work ended up in museums, and some landed in private collections, but many faded into obscurity.


While most of the female artists in the exhibit specialized in drawing and painting, the space contained a few ceramic pieces by Rebecca Tobey.  An American artist from Santa Fe, New Mexico, Rebecca creates ceramic, brass and patina animal sculptures in both modern and abstract styles.  As a teenager, she was told by an art teacher that neither her talent or her skills were good enough for art and to choose another major.  Aren't you glad she didn't listen?  Her sculptures have been commissioned for public and private collections in the US and internationally, including a six-foot-tall bronze grizzly bear at Western State College in Gunnison, Colorado, and 15-foot-tall bear at Baylor University in Waco, Texas.  The piece in the collage below, Along the Highline Trail, was #1 Son's favorite work in this exhibit.

We descended to the Lower Level Community Gallery, and found ourselves surrounded by wall hangings, the like of which neither of us had ever encountered.  The exhibit is called Picturing Paradise: Cuadros from the Peruvian Women of Pamplona Alta.  The embroidered and appliqued fabric pictures in Picturing Paradise are cuadros, created by women of Compacto Humano and Manos Ancashinas, two art cooperatives in Pamplona Alta near Lima, Peru.   The exhibition places emphasis on the women as artists and the way their art reflects creativity, resilience and hope despite the harsh conditions of their lives.  It intentionally creates a space where women living on the periphery of society, often silent and invisible, tell their stories and express their visions of a better, more just world.  These magnificent embroideries have been exhibited throughout the world.

You can read more about this exhibit in the picture to the right.

I was struck by several observations about the cuadros: first, they are three-dimensional.  Fruits and vegetables have shape and volume.  Women's skirts flare out. Second, the level of detail is infinitesimal.  Take a close look at the Huascaran cuadro (second collage below). Can you imagine appliqueing all those potatoes onto it?  Third: the familiarity of the local scenes - re-creating what they know.  It gives the rest of us such a unique window into their world.


 

A perfect example is the cuadro below - ChocolatadaChristmas hot chocolate is a unique tradition that involves handing out home-made hot chocolate, Paneton or sweet breads, and small gifts to children in schools, churches and communities in Peru.  Celebrated throughout the country during the month of December, this event is even more popular in the smallest and poorest Andean communities, where the main goal is to bring great joy to the children and their parents.


Many of the cuadros had personal narratives, especially those created in response to the prompts by Dr. Davis, such as "Who Am I?"  As we read them, #1 Son and I reflected on themes that would resonate anywhere in the world:  the hope for a better world for their children, belief in hard work, a prayer for the safety for spouses and other members of the family, simple enjoyment of the traditions of their culture, reliance on Mother Nature for the harvest, faith in God.  It's a pointed reminder to all of us that we may have our differences, but so much of our hearts' desires are EXACTLY the same!

Welcome to Mosaic Monday, a weekly meme where we get together to share our photo mosaics and collages.
Please include at least one photo mosaic/collage in your post.
The link will be open from 1 p.m. Sunday until 11 p.m. Tuesday (U.S. Mountain time). 
Remember to add the link to your Mosaic Monday post and not the one to your blog. 
Please link back to this post so that your readers will be able to visit and enjoy more wonderful mosaics; taking the MM blog button from my sidebar is an easy way to link back. 
As host I will visit every participant and leave a comment so that you know I stopped by. 
Please try and visit as many other blogs as you can, especially those that join in later, so that everyone's creativity can be appreciated fully. 
Thank you for joining in today and sharing your mosaics with us. 


You are invited to the Inlinkz link party!

Click here to enter

Saturday, October 17, 2020

Mosaic Monday #101: September Spotlight Redux

Whew.  You came back.  Without further ado, we'll pick up where we left off - the trail cam photos, deer specifically.

I love the next collage.  I know we should resist anthropomorphizing animals, but I do see a very tender look passing between the two fawns.  And the doe seems to be barely tolerating this late-season feeding session with her fawn.  Then we have two different bucks.  If you examine the left-hand photo closely, you can see the fine layer of velvet on the antlers.  Wow.  The one on the right has no velvet and appears to have more points, and these photos were only one day apart.  Fascinating.


And there's more.  I originally put the trail cam here in the hopes of capturing the beaver in action.  Early in the month, I got a shot or two, but since then the beaver engineering team has been distracted dealing with the dam (see post here).  But I got quite a few surprises, which more than made up for it.  

Montana is home to three species of weasels: short-tailed, long-tailed and the least weasel.  The least weasel does not have a black tip on its tail.  All of the weasels turn white in the winter; the short and long-tailed retain the black tips on their tails!  This is the first time I have captured a weasel on my trail cam;  I once retrieved a photo of a weasel in the winter on my neighbor's trail cam - do you remember this post?  I was also thrilled to see the muskrats; another first!  Until this photo (and quite a few others of 1 - 2 muskrats), I didn't even realize we had muskrats in our lake!


This month, we've seen a herd of elk on the hill opposite us.  A dozen strong, shepherded by a bull elk, it is a majestic sight.  Occasionally, when I have been outside in the early evening, the unique bugle call of the bull comes to my ears.  I was pleased to get the bull (at least partial shots) on my trail cam, as you can see above.   Thank goodness for the reflection - you get to see much more of him!!!

Now, sometimes people don't like surprises, and there was one set of trail cam photos that fall into that category - the orange tabby feral cat.  Another first on my trail cam, and not a happy sight.   Now, before the cat lovers get upset with me - you know I adore furbabies, but I am not enamored with the impact that cats have on our domestic birds.  One to four billion (that's B for billion) birds per year fall to the ninja talons of cats that roam outdoors.  And that's not to mention small mammals, reptiles and amphibians.  I am grateful that this is the only time I have ever seen it on my trail cam.

As I look out the window at the gray, scudding clouds, and watch the wind carry off the last of the aspen leaves, the memory of kayaking on a nearby lake seems a lifetime ago.  This particular lake is known for large pike, and #1 Son wanted to try his hand at hooking one.  I have also regularly seen kingfishers at this lake, and # 1 Son was eager to glimpse one as well.  So, off we went.

The lake was a sheet of glass, and the clouds joined the sun to form fancy reflections. 

Unfortunately, the pike did not cooperate - not a single one went for the flies that night - and the one kingfisher we spotted flew into the trees, beyond the view of our binoculars.  We had to "settle" for one beaver and  pretty panoramas!


Although the clouds have become more prevalent toward the end of the month, they have rarely dropped any precipitation.   One evening, I was out for one of my "stress-reduction" strolls.  I could have taken a million photos of the gathering clouds, reflected in the lake at the bottom of the property.


Imagine my surprise when the heavens opened.  I laughed out loud with the sheer joy of feeling the water on my skin, and I envisioned all of the plants and other living things, turning toward it with relief.   I headed home in the slanting rain, and just before I shucked off my boots and put my hand on the door handle, I turned for a final look.  A rainbow arced through the clouds.  The middle was hidden, but the ends were undimmed, seeming to touch the ends of the earth in my view.   A fitting end to the month, a promise of rain to come, a reward for patience through the drought.  What a blessing.

Welcome to Mosaic Monday, a weekly meme where we get together to share our photo mosaics and collages.
Please include at least one photo mosaic/collage in your post.
The link will be open from 1 p.m. Sunday until 11 p.m. Tuesday (U.S. Mountain time). 
Remember to add the link to your Mosaic Monday post and not the one to your blog. 
Please link back to this post so that your readers will be able to visit and enjoy more wonderful mosaics; taking the MM blog button from my sidebar is an easy way to link back. 
As host I will visit every participant and leave a comment so that you know I stopped by. 
Please try and visit as many other blogs as you can, especially those that join in later, so that everyone's creativity can be appreciated fully. 
Thank you for joining in today and sharing your mosaics with us. 


You are invited to the Inlinkz link party!

Click here to enter

Saturday, October 10, 2020

Mosaic Monday #100: September Spotlight

I intended to keep this post short, with only the BEST photos from September.  Well ... the more I looked, the more I found! Once I had my list, I pinched my lip, considering.  The inside and outside fire pictures - nothing out of the ordinary.  Gone.  What about the food photos?  Leaving them out might hurt the delicate feelings of Head Chef, and seeing as he feeds me - they stay in.  Hmmm ... six photos from our September camping trip?  Sometime in the future, I will write a whole post about that adventure.  Out.  How many lake pictures do YOU want to see?  But some are with #1 Son - can't leave those out.  Maybe I could discard the hand-drawn birthday cards I made - but then I am pretty darn proud of them.  All right, enough dithering, let's just get on with it and see how we go.  Work for you? 


In this post, I wrote about my pillow cross-stitch project.  I am pleased to report that the stitching is complete, and I will be taking all the materials I need on an upcoming road trip; I will use my sister-in-law's sewing machine to install the zipper and complete the project!

As long as we are on the crafty subject, below is  a mosaic with the two birthday cards I made during the month.  The coffee and cake-themed card went to one of my sisters, and the over-the-hill theme went to a former colleague in Arizona.  She has a whacky sense of humor and I knew she would appreciate it!

We've had a stretch of lovely weather the last couple of weeks; unending sunshine and temperatures in the low 70s.   Most days, I spend a few hours pottering in the garden.  Cutting plants down to the ground to promote future growth.  Transplanting volunteers and the prolific coreopsis to bring a bit more order to the flower beds.  Collecting seeds for fall and spring planting.  Along the way, I encounter little critters such as caterpillars and grasshoppers.  The spotted tussock moth caterpillar was shuttling across the driveway; I moved him to the edge of the forest, but 10 minutes later he was back on the driveway, on his original heading.  I transported him again, but this time in the direction he wanted to go.  I didn't see him again!

Mid-month, I had the opportunity to join Dear Neighbor Friend and another acquaintance for a morning kayak.  As we left the creek and entered the lake proper, we spotted something in the water.  Too low to be ducks.  Wrong shape for beaver.  As we got closer, the playful movements made it obvious that we were looking at otters!  It turned out to be a magical morning, as we saw up to 8 or 9 otters at various points around the lake.  Our phones didn't do the best job of capturing photos, but you can get the general idea.

At the beginning of the month, I moved my trail camera, and the location has yielded a plethora of critters.  I believe it is the water that makes this such an attractive site for all of these animals, especially the birds.  It has brought me great joy to identify those I didn't already recognize!

(For those real birders out there, please correct me if I've got it wrong!)

In the case of the marsh wren and the dowitcher, I was aided in the identification by having seen them in person before I saw them on camera.  The picture of the dowitcher certainly does not do its plumage justice!

I was also struck by the glorious feathers of the Canada Jay, especially how the gray tail is tinged with white.  Handsome, indeed!

In most of the photos, the Canada Jay appears alone, but in this series, two are bathing in the water.

Two more treats were in store - Williamson's Sapsucker and Clark's Nutcracker (look closely at the bottom picture in the second collage - can you see four of the nutcrackers?)  I have never seen these birds in person, so I am thrilled that the trail camera has captured them!

 

Moving on from birds, it would be a shocking day without at least one shot of deer.  I worked long into the night (!) to down select to only the most unique and interesting!

Well, folks, it's happened.  This post is long, and I fear even the most intrepid reader is wondering "will it ever end?"  So, come back next week for part 2!  More critters and more lake scenery.  Maybe even a rainbow to brighten your day.

Welcome to Mosaic Monday, a weekly meme where we get together to share our photo mosaics and collages.
Please include at least one photo mosaic/collage in your post.
The link will be open from 1 p.m. Sunday until 11 p.m. Tuesday (U.S. Mountain time). 
Remember to add the link to your Mosaic Monday post and not the one to your blog. 
Please link back to this post so that your readers will be able to visit and enjoy more wonderful mosaics; taking the MM blog button from my sidebar is an easy way to link back. 
As host I will visit every participant and leave a comment so that you know I stopped by. 
Please try and visit as many other blogs as you can, especially those that join in later, so that everyone's creativity can be appreciated fully. 
Thank you for joining in today and sharing your mosaics with us. 


You are invited to the Inlinkz link party!

Click here to enter

Sunday, October 4, 2020

Mosaic Monday #99: My Escape

I consider myself a strong and resilient person, but even so, I occasionally need an escape.  From external pressures.  From expectations.  Yes, from other people.  It is in nature that I feel most free, so when my heart and soul was crying out for relief this week, I went to the woods and the water.

Spousal Unit and #1 Son had planned a fishing excursion to Finger Lake.  Fortuitously, the area has two other lakes within easy hiking distance, so I set my sights on visiting those two bodies of water, and meeting up with the boys at Finger Lake later in the afternoon.  I was practically licking my lips with anticipation.  

I could go at my own pace.  I could examine unknown plants and snap scads of photos.  If I wanted to pause and locate the bird singing overhead, I wouldn't be holding anyone up.   And if I was really lucky, I wouldn't encounter too many other hikers!

As we parted ways at the proverbial fork in the trail, the forest was quiet other than the cackle of an unseen pileated woodpecker and the scolding chatter of pine squirrels.  

Strands of spider silk across the trail, breaking gently on my face and arms, suggested that no humans or tall animals had traversed the trail this morning.  Cleansing breaths brought in aromas of fir and cedar and freshly fallen leaves, as though someone had recently burned a hundred Frasier Fir candles.  Nature's incense.  I could feel the tension melting away as I strolled toward Lagoni Lake.


As I approached the water, seven mergansers slipped off a log, entering the water with barely a ripple. It must have been a productive spring and a successful summer for the parents and the progeny.  A Belted Kingfisher swung across the lake with its undulating flight and rattling call.   The chip-chip alarm calls of the Oregon Juncos were a constant backdrop.  I poured myself a cup of coffee and pulled out Gavin Maxwell's Ring of Bright Water for a relaxing read.  

"For I am convinced that man has suffered in his separation from the soil and from the other living creatures of the world; the evolution of his intellect has outrun his needs as an animal, and as yet he must still, for security, look long at some portion of the earth as it was before he tampered with it."  from the Foreword, October 1959

I bid farewell to Lagoni and ambled along to Hole in the Wall Lake.  The day was remarkably still, and yet the slightest breath of air would cause leaves to slowly swirl in a downward spiral to alight softly on the ground.  It drew my eye to the roots arcing across the trail.  How many feet have trod this path, inexorably peeling off the soil, and revealing the ancient arteries of the trees?   

Two hand-hewn bridges cross small streams, and I examine the tracks in the mud.  Deer and dog of some description.  No bear, thank goodness!  In my mood that day, the bridges evoke symbolism - a connection between heaven and earth (the term "crossing over" comes to mind).  An opportunity to review one's current life - the word "bridge" in the broadest sense indicates that one needs to overcome an obstacle.  To some people, crossing a bridge signifies an important decision or a critical junction.  

I shake my head to clear my mind of these cobwebby thoughts, take a picture, and step firmly across the planks.

The forest is a patchwork quilt of greens, oranges, reds and yellows.  On hikes at other times of the year, my gaze is almost always at ground level, my eyes casting to and fro in search of new plants and blooms.  This day, I pause periodically and scan the bushes and trees for winged beauty.  It has long fascinated me that some sections of the forest seem devoid of birds, and then a random turning thrusts you among a small flock, flitting and hopping and simultaneously carrying on a busy bird conversation.  As all of you know, I am not a true birder.  I can't name most birds from their songs, and I don't own the equipment to take proper photos.  But I have absorbed copious amounts of information from those of you with birding blogs, and I am fairly certain that I spotted a Brown Creeper and a Cassin's Vireo. 


At Hole in the Wall Lake, my solitude was broken only by the occasional rustling of the paper-thin wings of dragonflies along the shoreline.   One pair rose majestically in the air, clasped in a dragonfly love embrace.  I cracked open the coffee and my book, and was lost in its words when I felt something alight on my leg.  A dragonfly.  I slowly and cautiously moved my phone closer and closer, snapping shots as I went. I am fairly certain this is a Mosaic Darner - could it be any more appropriate for Mosaic Monday? - but please feel free to correct me. In preparing this post, I enlarged various parts of the dragonfly - so fascinating.  Don't the compound eyes and jaws compose a jaunty-looking smile? The abdomen, with its splashes of electric blue, make me wonder about the purpose of the color.  But it was the detail of the wings that made me gasp.  So delicate and infinitely detailed, evoking images of a master in stained glass laboring for hours over the myriad of elaborate miniscule segments. 


My companion lifted off, most likely having decided I was neither a potential mate or a source of food, and I returned to reading.


"But to be quite alone where there are no other human beings is sharply exhilarating; it as though some pressure had suddenly been lifted, allowing an intense awareness of one's surroundings, a sharpening of the senses, and an intimate recognition of the teeming sub-human life around one."

I reluctantly departed the tranquility of the lake; I knew that I was likely heading into a more populated area.  Sigh.  As if it was a sign of things to come, I spotted this boot to one side of the trail.  Yes, you read that right.  Boot.  Just one.  I ask you, how do you lose ONE boot?  More curious still, a partial shell of a tennis ball was tucked inside.  A man without a boot, and a dog without its ball.  Does it get any sadder than that?  

I hiked a total of 5 miles, with approximately 1200 feet of elevation gain.  The area has several ridges running in parallel; while none of them rise higher than 3,500 feet, the valleys in between are deep.  The most cavernous are full of water - voila - lakes!  To access each lake, one must ascend and descend the ridges, which are steep for short distances.  It's like speed-dating but in a hiking context.  It's a pleasant change from our typical hike - a long, steady ascent to one lake in a cirque and a long, steady descent back to the trailhead. 


Finger Lake is popular in the summer since it features a large rock outcropping that lends itself to jumping.  The last time I was here, a whole family was taking turns; "1, 2, 3 - jump!" echoed around the lake time and again.  This day, I saw two men fishing near the rock, but they weren't my boys.  I enquired about the fishing, and their response was a positive one.  I strolled on, reckoning that my boys were on the northern end of the "Finger".

My solitude was further broken by two hikers and their black Lab, but shortly after I found a spot where I could see Man with Hat and #1 Son in the distance but only rarely hear the murmur of the other men's voices.  Sporadically, the walls of the lake sounded with raucous croaking - a frog?  I tidied the area - why do people litter in a place like this?  And I returned to my book.

"... it is the best and the worst that one remembers, seldom the mediocrities that lie between and demand no attention." 

Eventually the boys finished their fishing, and came paddling by.  It was time to pack up and return home.


I took a few minutes to breathe deeply, attempting to imprint upon my memory the yellow of aspen torches reflected in the water.  How I wanted to freeze this moment, to preserve the profound sense of contentment and ease that permeated my being.  Perhaps the best I can hope for is to remember my escape, and to call forth its restorative powers when I need them next.  I choose to be grateful for the hours of solitude that I had, rather than resentful of leaving them behind.



Welcome to Mosaic Monday, a weekly meme where we get together to share our photo mosaics and collages.
Please include at least one photo mosaic/collage in your post.
The link will be open from 1 p.m. Sunday until 11 p.m. Tuesday (U.S. Mountain time). 
Remember to add the link to your Mosaic Monday post and not the one to your blog. 
Please link back to this post so that your readers will be able to visit and enjoy more wonderful mosaics; taking the MM blog button from my sidebar is an easy way to link back. 
As host I will visit every participant and leave a comment so that you know I stopped by. 
Please try and visit as many other blogs as you can, especially those that join in later, so that everyone's creativity can be appreciated fully. 
Thank you for joining in today and sharing your mosaics with us. 


You are invited to the Inlinkz link party!

Click here to enter
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