Residency, On

I’m sitting next to a part of Lower Piney Creek that snakes through the rural property which houses the Jentel Residency in the sunshine, as the water flows over rocks and carries onward beyond my sight. On a small island in the creek, lays Mama Goose who I’ve taken to visiting frequently as she patiently awaits the development of her eggs into goslings. With snowmelt and recent rains, there have been talks of water rising and flooding, but for now her nest is safe. Some snow banks remain even as daily thawing continues. I’ve taken many a meal or a warm drink outside to enjoy the temperate experience of a warming April while some Wyoming mountain passes remain snow packed and closed. Last week after some gorgeous, sunny-filled days the hills of the 1000 acre pasture behind our residence thawed and dried out enough for many a pleasant hike to be had. Six residents are living within the house, four visual artists and two writers. We each have separate rooms with shared bathrooms and kitchen and living areas. At times, like an episode of The Real World, six strangers coming together to enjoy the open skies of Wyoming, the quiet, the space away from our daily grinds, the typical tensions of navigating shared spaces occur. We’re only missing the confessional, though oh the stories I could tell when prompted by the producers!

The landscape and creature friends are both familiar and new to me. The brown hills with Wild Sage shrubs and Juniper reminds me of how my younger self would run near the arroyos and open spaces of the Albuquerque Heights. The iron-filled Scoria rocks redden the landscape like iron ore on the Iron Range of Minnesota, same red dirt spilling out across the light tan, staining everything in its wake. Red Willow, Aspen and Birch trees near bodies of water bring me comfort in shared ecologies familiar from my corner of mixed-grass prairie and oak savannah of Otter Tail County thriving here in the high plains of Wyoming. Red Wing Blackbirds are trilling in trees, Robin too is welcoming spring here in Wyoming, while Magpies flash white and black flitting between trees joining Antelope as new friends for me to witness. Frogs and toads are vibrating all day and night, and it makes me wonder if the frogs and toads have unearthed from their hibernation back at home. Just like my trips through the Tallgrass Prairie of Kansas, the song of Meadowlarks sing to my steps on hikes. Kettles of turkey vultures, flocks of turkeys, bats, mice, and ants remind me of home and greet me under new clear, blue skies. It’s a twenty-ish minute drive into town for supplies, where planning an outing “off-compound” takes some foresight. Not so much like home, I’m with folks from urban places who are preciously (rightfully?) thrilled by the sights of cows, and deer. Folks who live with too much light pollution to see the same stars as me when we are all back in our homes, folks who always see more people than cows in their day to day existence in urban spaces; who have never walked over a cattle grate before this trip to Wyoming; who are not as intimately connected to the sound of turtles belly flopping into the water or the quacking of Mallards flying overhead.

Beyond our residence, we each have a lovely studio space, to which I have thoroughly made myself at home. And to be honest, it is making me really think about how to set myself up for a similar experience of creative tranquility on my shared rural lands with Vaimo. I’m also recognizing that two weeks into my residency I’m falling into the same habits of home, starts and fits of creative productivity, through here I don’t have zoom meetings or other responsibilities to bemoan as to why I didn’t log so many hours painting. So perhaps, this is just me? And how I work wherever I am? I will say I am resting when my body asks me to, I’m holding open space for adventure in a new place, saving space for spontaneity while also trying bring some paintings into the world. Yesterday I took a drive through the Bighorn Mountains which I’ve only done one other time, under different circumstances, when I was a different person. As difficult as it is for me, I’m holding off on making broad declarations of what I’ve learned while here, because I’m still in the thick of it. Just as I have barely re-acclimated to a new way of being here in Wyoming, I am recognizing I do not have the distance I need to make sense of my time here yet. What if, I could be patient like Mama Goose on her eggs? What if I must be?

Creative Ritual

I have successfully finished painting on a painting I began a while ago that I brought with me to residency. I'm in deep in the stitching phase where I'm applique-ing fabric along the border, next week I will begin quilting. I've also started two new paintings (as seen from the image above), laying in backgrounds, next up I will start composing a scene and begin sewing the applique elements that will border the paintings. My cohort of artists and writers currently on residency will be presenting our work to the Sheridan, WY community and anyone else who would like to join from anywhere with internet access via zoom. Please see details below to join me - we each have 10 minutes to present with Q&A. I'll be presenting fourth on Tuesday May 2nd from 5:30-7:00pm (Mountain Time).

https://us02web.zoom.us/j/84864165379?pwd=a1F2bEhYclhyRHo4ek5oTUtLemRSZz09
Meeting ID: 848 6416 5379
Passcode: 051448

Special thanks to my dear friends/fam who have emailed, sent care packages, and fun postcards my way while I've been on residency. It has been an experience to remember and I'm glad I can share a little part of this experience with you through this medium. You can expect a part two follow-up later this year on how I've been changed by this opportunity. 

Questions to ponder

How is the sun hitting you these days? 
What are you learning from warming or cooling temperatures? 
What is currently thawing and flowing for you? 
How are you tending your creative fire? 

Thanks for journeying with me. I hope, as always, that you take what you need and leave the rest for someone else, or for another time. 

-KCF

The Art of KCF Newsletter is a fiscal year 2023 recipient of a Creative Support for Individuals grant from the Minnesota State Arts Board. This activity is made possible by the voters of Minnesota through a grant from the Minnesota State Arts Board, thanks to a legislative appropriation from the arts and cultural heritage fund.

Psssst... the grant funds awarded to me were to, “expand the scope of [my] creative nonfiction based writing project, the Art of KCF Newsletter, by creating new rural arts criticism content, and reach more Minnesota readers.” Help me do that Minnesota neighbors by sharing my newsletter with your networks and connecting me with artists doing cool things in rural Minnesota. ¡Gracias!