Passenger P's.

I took some reference photos today - subject in question...passenger pigeon.  As I snapped the camera I couldn't help but think of other passenger p pics I've taken.  I've come in contact with 3 specimens so far.  How many more will I meet in my lifetime?  I hope lots.  Like super lots.  Like passenger-pigeon-national-tour lots.

Facts:

• At one point in time there were 3-5 billion (yeah...freakin' BILLION) passenger pigeons in North America.
• We hunted them to extinction.  
• The last passenger pigeon, named Martha, died in captivity in 1914.
• Passenger pigeons are awesome.
• Humans can be careless assholes.

 International Wildlife Museum, Tucson, AZ (2010)

Tulane University, New Orleans, LA (2012)

Fort Worth Museum of Science and History, F-town, TX (2013)

Dinosaur Valley State Park

Last month I went to Dinosaur Valley State Park and I saw this...

dinosaur footprint

It was hot and there were about a million people crowding around the dinosaur foot print taking pictures and behaving like typical Americans.  We collectively mumbled under our breathe, "This is it?" in regards to the footprint.  

What a bunch of assholes we were.  Yeah...this is it - it's a fucking dinosaur footprint for the love of god, we should have been beside ourselves with wonder!  But we weren't. Even as I lived that moment I felt gross.

And I saw this...

 dinosaur figurines

On the way out of the park I wanted to stop at the gift shop because it was so obnoxious. Sun-faded dinosaurs were posted on top of the shop and sprinkled throughout the parking lot.  There were even dinosaur trashcans.  It wasn't okay to me to shovel garbage into a smiling dinosaur face.  

What was wrong with me?  This was supposed to be a cheerful outing and I was acting like a senile fun-nazi.  It all seemed so cheap.  So I started this painting.

 Dinosaur Valley State Park (in-progress), 

oil on wood, 32"x48", 2013

One of my favorite Brautigan poems.

(catfish scribble in workbook)

Your Catfish Friend

by Richard Brautigan

                                                    If I were to live my life

                                                    in catfish forms

                                                    in scaffolds of skin and whiskers

                                                    at the bottom of a pond

                                                    and you were to come by

                                                         one evening

                                                    when the moon was shining

                                                    down into my dark home

                                                    and stand there at the edge

                                                          of my affection

                                                    and think, "It's beautiful

                                                    here by this pond.  I wish

                                                         somebody loved me,"

                                                     I'd love you and be your catfish

                                                     friend and drive such lonely

                                                     thoughts from your mind

                                                     and suddenly you would be

                                                          at peace,

                                                     and ask yourself, "I wonder

                                                     if there are any catfish

                                                     in this pond?  It seems like 

                                                     a perfect place for them."

The Path of Phillip

 Phillip 1877, pastel on butcherpaper, 8"x10", 2013

Phillip 2013, oil on vintage wallpaper, 8"x10", 2013

I first saw Phillip nestled in a drawer with others like him.  His rounded belly and toucan beak fit together like two perfect building blocks and his eyes looked like the head of a screw turned to off.

I was photographing animal specimens from Fort Worth Museum of Science and History's collection to gather reference material for drawings and paintings.  It was the moment when I met Phillip that my project shifted, then narrowed and focused.  I wanted to know of the journey that led him to that drawer.

How many hands had he passed through?  What changes had taken place in the world as he traveled from one museum collection to another?  What exactly did his existence mean since having become an object?  He was now a commodity that could be gifted, traded, or sold.

This may not be Phillip's true history, but it is my story of Phillip constructed from the information on the small three handwritten tags that bind his feet.

Phillip is a Collared Aracari (ahr-uh-sahr-ree) which is the smallest species of toucan and native to Central America and Southern Mexico.  He was collected in Panama by Adolphe Boucard in 1877.  That's right folks, Phillip is 136 years old.

Boucard (1839-1905) was a French ornithologist/specimen tradesman, which in today's society would make for an interestingly conflictive vocational combination.  Selling scientific bird skins to natural history museums to build collections and promote public education while at the same time supplying the plume trade which facilitated the demise of many bird species...hmmm...that's pretty jacked up.

According to his oldest tag, Phillip belonged to Museum Boucard for roughly 23 years. I'm not sure if I'm translating this correctly to mean Boucard's personal avian collection perhaps in Paris or not.  Unfortunately no Facebook posts for Boucard could be found and he had yet to register for a Twitter account.

Around 1900 Boucard sold off most of his collection and Phillip was moved to the U.S. National Museum in Washington, D.C. (a.k.a. Smithsonian) where he resided for about 67 years.  At least a portion of his time was spent in the school collection.  It is my hope that Phillip was surrounded by some hot co-ed Aracaris.

He migrated to Westport, Connecticut in the spring of 1967 to Mid-Fairfield County Youth Museum, renamed Earthplace, where he did a short stint of less than a year.

Then in the fall of 1967 it was on to his current home, Fort Worth Children's Museum now Fort Worth Museum of Science and History.

It was on May 6, 2013 that our paths crossed.  I took him out of his drawer and ever so delicately set him on a nearby table.  I looked at him from every angle and dreamed of his life.  How many people like me had come across Phillip thinking they had discovered him for the very first time?

Turkey vulture skins and feet...check.

Turkey Vulture Skins (L), pastel on butcherpaper, 11"x14", 2013 

Turkey Vulture Feet (R), pastel on butcherpaper, 8"x10", 2013 

I drew the skins onsite at FWMS&H's off-view collection and the feet were drawn from a photo I took from FWMS&H's on-view exhibit.  Sure...I may have to eat cat food until next payday, but I can mark a couple of frame jobs off the list.

Don't act like you're tired of hearing about this.

This past Monday was a beautiful day capped with a big warm blue sky but I spent my afternoon shielded from the stellar spring day inside a warehouse photographing dead animals.  Animal.  Specimen.  Collections.  I know, I know...it was over 2 years ago that I first took a sketch book into one and the obsession began, but I feel like the subject is still so new and large with wings fresh and unfolding.

I'm still putting together the pieces of what these odd and beautiful spaces mean to me. It's such a special place and one I feel that is not entirely mine to share...yet.  I could only muster up the guts to post these three photos.

 northern flickers

 delicate frogs

shark

I try not to move or manipulate the subjects, I want to capture them as I found them. They were placed in their new existence by caring hands concerned with taxonomy, not aesthetics, which makes for fascinating, narrative-invoking groupings for a novice naturalist like myself.

I visit collections to gather reference material for paintings but more importantly to gain an understanding of the space where the outdoors and the indoors meet.  Ah yes...the ghastly overwhelming topic of nature vs. man.  What better place to research the subject than inside a man-made building filled with animal carcasses?

Okay, the outdoors comes face to face with the indoors...let's do this.  At first I thought of this space as a gentle overlay of two places but the more time I spend there, I realize that it is more like a delicate intersection and delicate does not translate to peaceful.  It is an environment where conflict often begins.  Take a tree root and a city sidewalk for example - one is constantly trying to overtake the other.

So visiting and documenting specimen collections is how I explore this concept while indoors.  Got it - check.  I found the reverse when on my recent artist residency at Madrono Ranch.  What is one way to explore this concept while I'm outdoors?  The photos below did it for me.  Freakin' reflections...who knew?

So what does all of this mean?  I have no idea.  

All I know is that I'm going to keep doing it.

Turtle shell.

Turtle Shell, acrylic, 2013

The journey of life provides everyone with a unique arsenal of knowledge.  There are no two people on the planet or beyond that share the exact same library of info.

This information is learned through experiences, most of which are general survival tools - fire is hot, traffic is dangerous, cats cannot be trusted, etc.  But there are a few nuggets of knowledge that are so random that you would never in a million years even think of seeking them out...but somehow, here you are, toting around bits and pieces of weird wisdom.

For example,  I now know that if you are going to paint on a turtle shell then it is best, in regards to paint application, to boil it.  The surface becomes smoother and matte, allowing for a little bite that the paint can adhere to.

But, if you want to enjoy the turtle shell for all its natural beauty (sans paint), then you should let nature have its way with it.

Ranch Ramblings: That's a Wrap!

Two weeks of solitude - check.  And I didn't even have to tap into my reserve supply of sanity, although there were questionable moments and the turtle shell I found did become my Wilson*.  (Except the original Wilson probably smelled of the ocean and Ranch Wilson smells like a creek.)  

Ranch Wilson sat on the kitchen window ledge and kept me company.  I'm taking him home and it feels good to bring a part of the ranch with me.

Ranch Wilson

On my very first day here, I marked off a small square of earth to combat the overwhelming excitement to explore everything at once.  It instantly calmed me and made things seem more manageable.  I figured if I took the time to explore everything within that small space, then I could move on to larger spaces.  (Baby Bird One and Baby Bird Two were laid to rest in that same square.)

I did move onto bigger spaces and there is just something about hiking under the enormous Texas sky that hits your reset button.  I feel de-cluttered and ready to move forward with gusto.

I'm not sure how the fruits of this experience will unfold, but the two weeks at Madrono Ranch have helped define my interest in the delicate spaces where the outdoors meets the indoors.  I feel that my arsenal has been stockpiled.  

Thank you Heather, Martin, and Robert & family for sharing your wonderful home!

Over and out!

*Badass reference to the movie, Cast Away.

Ranch Ramblings: Day Twelve

I spent the entire day yesterday not knowing if it was Wednesday or Thursday.  And I didn't care. "I'll figure it out tomorrow.", I thought.  It was Wednesday but now it is Thursday.  I'm still a little confused about the whole situation.    

One of my absolute favorite things has been watching and documenting how nature has changed in the short time that I've been here.  I took a photo of the same thistle outside of my door everyday.

Day 2

Day 7

 

Day 11

And my favorite bouquet of thistles on the planet…

Day 2

Day 4

 

Day 7

Day 9

Day 12

I've also really enjoyed finding unexpected intersections 

between man and nature.  I give you Exhibit A.

Electric tree.

I've totally been geeking out on nat history books and I have to say that one of the best lines I've read is the description of a nine-banded armadillo from J.J. Audubon and Rev. J. Bachman who thought the armadillo resembled "a small pig saddled with the shell of a turtle."  

If you think that is funny, you might enjoy these as well: 

Still Life:  Adventures in Taxidermy by Melissa Milgrom

The Breathless Zoo by Rachel Poliquin

Natural Histories:  Rare Book Selections from the American Museum of Natural History Library

The Birds of America by Audubon

The Authentic Animal : Inside the Odd and Obsessive World of Taxidermy by Dave Madden

Ranch Ramblings: Day Eleven

It was balls cold today so I spent the morning at the main house getting some research done via internet.  Afterwards I went for a short walk but called it quits when I could no longer feel my face or extremities due to hypothermia. 

Before resigning to my heated cabin, a photo shoot was in order.  Yesterday I spent 5 min. around the cabin site just shooting (camera-style not Davy Crockett-style) anything and everything I found interesting - no matter how ordinary or weird - just shoot it.  Later, when going through the shots, one photo stood out from the rest.  I had to revisit that space this afternoon.

A few years back I spent a month in Wyoming and became completely enamored with pathways.  Dirt roads, river paths, railroad tracks - if it was a continuous line that cut through the landscape to met the horizon, I was in love with it.  

Here in Medina I have that same feeling with reflections.  Specifically, reflected landscapes on windows and glass doors - creating an overlay of indoors and outdoors.

Ranch Ramblings: Day Ten

Today seemed like a good day for a field trip.  I googled "museum Kerrville Texas" and found my destination - The Museum of Western Art.  Unfortunately most of the work was not on view because they were preparing for an exhibition sale that will be taking place this weekend.  

I still had a great visit and thought back to my Phoenix Art Museum days cuz (and this is a big shout out to my old co-workers - and you know who you are) The Museum of Western Art is the birthplace of the CAA.  Cowboy.  Artists.  (of.)  America.  The titles of the work can stand alone as art.  I bought a Kenneth Riley print for nostalgia factor.  And because it's awesome.  

Well, I looked at some art now it's time to make some.

Sunburnt pomegranate.

If I haven't totally bored you yet, brace yourself, I'm going to be pretty lame for the rest of the trip.  Here's an example - I spent most of the day reading from the small natural science library I brought.  

I still have three full days ahead of me here but I've begun to shift into wrap-up mode:  What do I want to accomplish before leaving?  What has surfaced from the experience thus far?  How long does thistle fuzz stay fluffy?  What direction do I see myself taking?  Blah, blah, words, snoozefest, zzzzzzz….  

Hey, look at me and the damn llamas!

Ranch Ramblings: Day Nine

Today was laundry day so I headed to the main house after breakfast.  While I was waiting for my clothes to dry, I spent some time with the chickens cuz I wanted to be around healthy, alive birds for a change.

Totally.  Alive.

Then it was time to get my work on.

1. Document Thistle Bouquet 

Project #1's progress. 

Note to self:  bouquet is still awesome.

2. Put thistle fuzz in a jar.

Seemed like it needed to be done.

3.  Color scavenger hunt.  

Objective - find rad colors.

I feel in love with this sunburnt, 

insect-infested pomegranate.

Pomegranate, your colors are awe-inspiring.

4.  Honor a fallen soldier.

I have some sad news to share - Baby Bird Two didn't make it through the night.  This evening I gave Baby B's One and Two a proper burial.

R.I.P. Baby Bird Two

*I apologize for Ranch Rambling's anarchic use of font sizes, cutting and pasting works differently out here on the ranch.

Ranch Ramblings: Day Eight

Tukeys - I'm a big fan.  And it's a good thing because they are the last thing I hear before falling asleep at night and they wake me every morning.  Their call is ridiculous and I laugh every time I hear it.  It's almost as funny as watching them fly.  Almost.

This morning was no exception, the only thing unusual was that it sounded like they were in the kitchen.  They were having a very serious convo just outside the window.  Two tom turkeys were totally checking themselves out in the bumper of the truck and trying to peck the "intruder's" face off.  

Alright, turkeys…I'm up, I might as well go for a walk.  It was chilly and windy and the bison were in the field I was planning on tromping through, so the walk was shorter than anticipated.  I leaned on the fence and hung out with the buffalo for awhile.

Then I headed to the chicken coop to hang with the poultry.

Next it was back to the cabin for some lunch.  I'm cruising up to the door and what do I see?  A baby bird.  

me:  "Oh cool, you're learning to fly - good luck to ya." 

me:  "Uhh…why are you walking funny?"

baby bird:  "My legs are broken."

me:  "Awesome - my heart just broke then imploded."  

baby bird:  "How do you think I feel?"

Not but a few yards down the path, I find another  baby bird.  But don't worry, this one wasn't hurt.  It was only totally dead.  Dead.  What the fuck!?  I was gone for a couple of hours and I come back to complete baby bird carnage?

R.I.P. Baby Bird

Dammit, I just went through this with a caterpillar.  Can't this shit be spread out a little? 

I spent the rest of the afternoon painting a portrait of the little guy but not before balling my eyes out over the injured baby (who is now in a bassinet next to the bed).  Ranch life is tough.

Ranch Ramblings: Day Seven

Things are going pretty smooth when you wake up and the only thing on your mind is a turtle shell.  

Turtle shell photo shoot - check.

Turtle shell painting Stage One - check.

On a morning walk, the subject of man's impact on nature presented itself.  Scattered by a creek near the cabins are a number of kitchen tiles from what I assume to be an old remodeling project.  It's always a bit jarring to come across something that belongs inside of a home while immersed in the middle of the great outdoors.

Nature began looking like structures.  

This leaf totally has windows.

By 1pm the ranch was quiet - 

just me and the buffalo.  

I painted some mountain laurel beans.

As I climbed into bed and turned on the reading 

light, I noticed a pretty awesome shadow.

Thistle.  Fuzz.