Wildness (Rocks and Shit)

My collection of skulls.

It seemed to rain for days. The stars disappeared. It even snowed at one point, large, fluffy snowflakes falling rapidly from the sky. At night, the moon was reduced to a smudge of light obscured by the clouds. When the rain and clouds parted, it was as if the stage curtains had been lifted presenting a perfectly curated autumn scene. The moths and wasps have disappeared. In the distance, the mountains that were once blue, purple and grey are now covered with crisp white snow. Today the wind is so loud and strong that it sounds like the low roll of thunder.

I realized this week that the high altitude and dry air made me retain water like a camel riding an airplane. I mistakenly thought I had gained a massive amount of weight due to the bottomless cookie jar and midnight icecream kitchen raids. I even went to town to buy a more comfortable pair of pants that I have affectionately dubbed my "cookie pants". They are black and cropped with lots of buttons, maybe what one of the Von Trapp kids would wear in a singing performance. As I enter my final week here, somehow my body stopped clinging onto any liquid I put into it and I can comfortably fit into my usual clothes again.

Sadly, as my body has finally acclimated to Wyoming, my time here is coming to a close. I am going to miss this place and the people. I will miss my bike that sounds like a creaky swingset, the family style meals every night, and all of the stories I have been told. I could listen to animal encounter stories all day. The chef was telling me about the time her dog raced up a tree to chase raccoons and another time when her dog was being swept down a creek with a raccoon firmly affixed to its back. Another person who works here was driving at night when she came upon a mountain lion with its paw poised to swipe a porcupine. Both animals froze in her headlights, looked at her, and then scurried off in opposite directions. The man who gave us a ranch tour told us that he saw 15 rattlesnakes over the course of two days in the fields where the cows graze. His father in law was reaching for something on the ground when he was bit by one. He pulled his hand away and the teeth anchored into his skin like, as the rancher said, "some fishhook action".

The moon! Luc set up the telescope and
 we took pictures with our iphones! 

I am trying to make the most of my remaining time here which I have decided not only means working in the studio but also exploring the area and connecting with other people. The other day it was clear and bright outside. I went on a hike with two of the residents who recently arrived. Ruth is a writer from San Francisco who is publishing her first book next year and Amanda is a sculptor, who coincidentally grew up in a neighboring town from mine. We somehow figured out that we had both worked at the same little ice cream store when we were in high school. The three of us headed to a nearby hiking trail. This sounds like the beginning of a joke: "two artists and a writer go on a hike..."

Ruth, Amanda and me wearing red and orange, ready
for our hike.

The staff here had given us ample warnings about hunting season. We could have probably been spotted a mile away because of the orange reflective vests and bright clothes we were wearing. Amanda even had this bright neon orange knit hat (not shown in picture). We went in search of a group of teepee circles that were in a grassy field nearby. Both Ruth and Amanda are easy to talk to and quick to laugh. We had a great time walking through the rolling, grassy hills. At the top of one ridge, we were rewarded with a view of the Bighorn Mountains. I had imagined that the teepee circles would be very visible circles of dark rocks drawn on the yellow grass, but instead the rocks were camouflaged. It was a fun process to trace out the circles one rock at a time. We imagined the Indians who once lived here over 200 years ago. It is a great vantage point from where you can see miles out in every direction: the mountains, the creek weaving through the hills, the black cows grazing in the fields. There was also as much shit as there were rocks. Amanda said she wished she could use "rocks and shit" as a title to a book.

Rocks, no shit.

I have only a few days left here. In my studio I have abandoned carving wood entirely and  am trying my best to stay in this uncertain unknown territory. I'm not sure if I'm making a lot of progress but I hope that somewhere amongst all of these things I've generated is a gem, a seed of an idea I can push further. Since my first day here, I haven't lost my sense of awe. I truly couldn't have hoped for a better experience than I have had. This year was a tough one for me for various reasons and being here has helped me return to a point of feeling grateful and content.

My beloved studio, Rock 4.