Letting Go of the Bay Leaf: October 2020

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 - Chocolatada. Christmas 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!

Mosaic Monday

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.

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.