musings from the studio and beyond ~
dawn chandler’s reflections on art and life. . . .
12.16.2013 ~ the journey, ii: of high deserts and alkali lakes
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| Walking the dry, alkali mudflats of Summer Lake in Lake County, Oregon |
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| Passing through eastern Utah. |
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| Coursing along the beautiful banks of the Malheur River on OR Route 20 |
Making the drive solo this time in a car that’s getting long of tooth, with new snow chains I was hoping to never have to use, I was nervous, checking the weather constantly. Chance of rain or snow 30 – 40%, which in New Mexico means no chance at all, but where I was headed was different. Bend, Oregeon, where I was bound my third day of driving, receives an average of 24 inches of snow, whereas Santa Fe gets 14 inches — and lately it’s been a whole lot less.
But the fact that I’d just made this drive for the first time in my life just months before was a small but real comfort; at least I was familiar, if vaguely, with the terrain.
[And how weird is that? I’d never in my life been to Idaho or eastern Oregon or Bend, and the very year I make that trip, I’m making it AGAIN, just a few months later. Life’s funny.]
The point on the map I was bound for this time was mile marker 81 on Hwy 31, 100 miles south east of Bend, Oregon, twelve miles south of the hamlet of Summer Lake, OR (population 90) and eighteen miles north of the village of Paisley, OR (population 250). A mere point in a large field of…..nothing. Or so it appeared on the map. A single road on a big swath of cartography. “Do not use Google Maps, Mapquest or GPS devices to locate us; they are often inaccurate or unreliable,” the instructions warned. “Should you be delayed more than an hour, let us know.”
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| Lake County, Oregon range land. |
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| Skirting the base of Summer Ridge, on the eastern flank of the Cascades. |
Easing south, the road skirted the lower hills of Winter Ridge — an eastern tier of the Cascade Mountains. Bumpy and textured with evergreen and scrub, the ridge loomed darkly purple and grey in the cloud shadows. Tumbling eastward, the foothills spill eventually into the alkali mudflats and twenty-mile long mirror of Summer Lake.
This vast and seemingly desolate country would — for me plus two sculptors, a film-maker and three writers — become home for the next five weeks. I could hardly wait to arrive.
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| Like a massive puddle, at high water (winter and spring) Summer Lake expands to 15 miles long and 5 miles wide, with a depth of about 3 feet.. Come summer, it dries up. |
12.11.13 ~ the journey, i: copping out. …..or not.
To think I almost didn’t do it.
Almost copped out from even trying.
But the logistics of it all made my head hurt.
To do it would mean so much planning, so much strategy…
• I was going to California the weekend before to attend a writers’ workshop. I’d get back from one trip and leave immediately for another, much, much longer one. I hate back-to-back travel; it unravels me. Or at least the thought of it does.
• It would mean having to find canine coverage. My Good Man could likely do it, but six weeks is a long time for a guy to adjust his schedule in order to walk a dog at 5:30a.m.
• And then what about Thanksgiving? What about Thankskgiving?
• I’d have to figure out art supplies. What the hell to bring? What to work with? Cram all of that plus my printer and copier and winter road emergency stuff and food and books and clothes in my little Subaru? HOW?
• And what about food? Two dinners per week would be provided. The rest would be my own responsibility. Fresh groceries would be in short supply out there; they caution to bring at least two weeks worth of food. And then what?
• And then what of that long journey — three or four days of driving to get there — and back — across pretty desolate country, in possibly dicey weather.
Alone.
I haven’t made a solo drive like that in close to twenty years.
It was all too much.
Too much to think about. Too much to figure out.
Never mind I’d be provided a large, uncluttered studio in which to paint.
Never mind that I’d be provided a charming and cozy cottage in which to live.
Never mind that I’d be interacting with brilliant creative minds and making new friendships.
Never mind I’d have the chance to learn about and explore an extraordinary corner of the world and interact with the kind and generous people who live there.
Never mind that I’d be able to paint, unplugged and totally focused for five weeks.
FIVE WEEKS.
Never mind that I could do all of this…. for free. If I could just get my act together.
But ACK!! It was all too much to think about. Too much to coordinate.
I didn’t apply; decided to not even try.
And then.
And then…
And then a brick hit me in the back of the head.
I think my parents or my grandmother or someone from that rowdy corner of the afterlife heaved it at me.
Are you KIDDING?
You’re going to bail on the chance for all that because of logistics?
ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?
Where’s the young woman who used to drive across the country solo to teach backpacking?
Where’s the artist who believes in taking responsibility for the success and development of her own work, of her career?
Where’s the artist who believes in challenging herself? The spirit of the young woman with the sense and desire for adventure?
I submitted my application.
And on the first day of November, wedged in my little Subaru between reams of paper, paint brushes, tubes of acrylic paint, pounds of quinoa and brown rice and tea and kale and apples and a winter emergency kit that would make the Donner Party come back to life with envy, I found myself embarking on a 1,500 mile drive to the Oregon Outback.
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| Art supplies — CHECK. Road emergency kit — CHECK. Clothes — CHECK. Books — CHECK. |
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| Food for 2 weeks — CHECK. Room for me in the car ?— Hmmm…Not so sure…. |
10.02.13 ~ listen to the silence ~ wheeler peak, taos, new mexico
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| listen to the silence ~ wheeler peak trail, taos, new mexico ~ by dawn chandler ~ mixed medi on panel (diptych) ~ 24″x36″ copyright dawn chandler 2013 |
Looking forward to tomorrow and being at this very spot….and listening to the silence. With the aspens starting to turn and 70 degrees and clear skies forecast, it promises to be a great hike up Wheeler Peak!
The mixed media painting above was featured in my art show in Taos this past summer, along with it’s more traditional partner:
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| pausing on the wheeler peak trail, taos, new mexico ~ by dawn chandler ~ oil on canvas ~ 18″x24″ ~ copyright dawn chandler 2013 |
Some details from Listen to the Silence:
