Sun Valley, Idaho

August 11

I am sitting in my motel room in Twin Falls, Idaho this morning.  In a few hours I will drive the 80 remaining miles to Ketchum, outside of Sun Valley.  There, I will meet up with Dennis and Caroline Viene.  We have a condo rented for next week during the show.   After the show, Dennis and I hope to do a little fly fishing in the area. Caroline is a Jeweler from Eugene, Oregon who makes beautiful contemporary jewelry.  When in Seattle, my wife, Sheryl, purchased a bracelet and ear rings from  Caroline that she did not take off for a week.  She loved them!  I look forward to a good time with friends in Sun Valley.

On my Soap Box.

I have had time to contemplate a discussion that I had with a friend and fellow artist last week in Park City, Utah.  There is no denying the pain of the current economic recession that we are living through.  These are difficult times for artists, because art is a purchase that anyone can do without.   This reality hits hard for those of us who have come to rely totally on selling our art as a means of making a living.  Like many Americans who are feeling the pains of the current recession, changing jobs or finding employment is not easy for anyone over fifty.  Employers are hesitant invest in hiring and training older workers.  Few options exist for artists who have been on this circuit while selling art for a living the last several decades.  It is what these same artists have been doing for the last thirty years.  With retirement and social security around the corner, many of these same artists would like to put off full retirement on the government dole, for as long as possible.  Reality bites.  Some find that Social Security is not the answer even if they are age 65.  The high cost of medical insurance, coupled with continued living costs, means that artists need to find optional employment elsewhere if they can no longer sell their art for a living.  Before I get out the violins, please allow me to state that artists are not the only ones finding themselves in this predicament.  There are many suffering or unemployed Americans feeling the bite of the recession.

I am one of the lucky ones.  My artwork continues to sell, though not at the rate that it once did.  I still etch out a reasonable living and continue to enjoy the fruits of my labor.  Because of whatever economic planing that my wife and I made long ago, we have the means to survive this.  Sheryl has a good job and is secure in her position with a large corporation. We are lucky enough to have good healthcare.  Our three sons are, for the most part, grown and out on their own.  Our youngest will graduate this next fall.  All three of our boys are hard workers and thrifty in their own right.

It saddens me greatly to see what is happening to some of my friends and acquaintances inside the art industry.  I wish that I could give some kind of helpful advice to those in need.  But words come cheap, and the pain of the current changes that these people find themselves in is real. I have always hated the terminology applied to craftsmen when called “starving artists.” In thirty years of doing this for a living, I have never known starving as a reality.  Yet, in this day and age, I see more and more of my friends finding themselves at the brink of economic disaster.  I think, If not by the grace of God, there go I.

There is a flip side to all of this woeful sorrow.  I know plenty of fellow artists who have done quite well for themselves over the years.  They invested in real estate and own property.  The artists lifestyle has been good to many of us.  Art fairs are an American phenomenon, and in the early boom of the 70’s & 80’s, art fairs brought reasonable wealth for some.  I do not wish to paint any of this with too broad a brush.  Yet, there is no denying the pain for many during the current economic downturn.  Being over fifty and finding that you can no longer make a living at the only thing you know how to do, is a bitter pill to swallow.  It is painful to watch, when these people are good friends and even better people.

As Americans, we are waking up to the fact that citizens are living longer, as our dollars are growing shorter.  The middle class seems to be disappearing as jobs are currently shipped overseas or simply eliminated.  America was once the greatest industrial nation on earth.  Today, we build little and most of what we import is foreign crude to squelch our insatiable thirst for oil.   We continue to waste energy like there is no tomorrow.  Like Bob Dylan once put it, “The times, they are a changin.” I ask, can we change with them?

From an artist’s perspective, most of us from the Boomer generation did not go to school in the computer age.  Any artist today who has not yet embraced the computer as a creative tool, or refuses to use the internet to market product, puts him or herself at a definite disadvantage.  It should be as obvious as the nose on our faces that anyone in the employment pool today needs to remain flexible enough to change with the times.  That includes the most basic creative people that I know.  Nothing stands still for very long.

August 12, Condo in Sun Valley

I arrived last night at the condominium Dennis Veine, his wife, Caroline, and I rented for our week’s stay in Ketchum, Idaho.  Nestled in the mountains surrounding Sun Valley, this two bedroom chalet will be the perfect place to kick back and enjoy each other’s company in the evenings after show hours.  Dennis and I sat up until late in the night discussing plans for a relaxing two days of fly fishing after the show on Monday and Tuesday of next week.  Each of us will be off again on Wednesday, traveling to the next art fair in Jackson Hole, Wyoming.

I will begin set up for the show this afternoon with a high between 65 and 69 degrees.   Tempetures in my home town of Wichita, should reach 105 degrees today.  That is a difference of some 40 degrees.  Wow!

On the road again -
Just can’t wait to get on the road again.
The life I love is making music with my friends

And I can’t wait to get on the road again.
On the road again

Goin’ places that I’ve never been.
Seein’ things that I may never see again.

I broke into the art business over 30 years ago.  It was around 1980, that I traveled West with my artist friend, Jerry Ellis.  We played Willie Nelson’s Red Headed Stranger as we traversed much of Colorado and New Mexico.  Willie’s classic tune, On the Road Again, was our theme song.   I can remember catching trout and roasting them over a stream-side camp fire as the smoke got into my eyes.  It just does not get any better than that.  A lot of water has crossed under the bridge since then, but I am still traveling, painting, and selling my artwork.  I meet new friends everywhere that I go.

Next stop is Park City, Utah and the crazy art fair that they have up in the mountains above Salt Lake.  The crowds of people in the  street will flow like a river with bodies moving in rapid succession up and down main street looking at the artwork. Talk about huge crowds, lots of suds, and a good time.  Not to mention that sales can be pretty darn good.  My good friend,  Brian Keller, of Denver,  will show up with his beautiful landscapes, and a we will tip a beer or two after the show.  It will be a good time.

Sheryl and I are in Boise, Idaho, at the moment.  I have a few orders to ship and a bit of paperwork to get behind me before sliding over to Salt Lake where Sheryl boards a plane for home.

August 4  Park City, Utah

I fly fished the Provo River outside of Heber City yesterday.  Fishing was okay for drys, but would have been better fishing using nymphs.  Nymph fishing is really not my thing.  I like to see the trout eat the fly.  I may get fewer fish, but the trill is twice as big for me, personally.  I am here for a few days prior to my show in downtown Park City.  I will fish the Provo again this evening.  Heber City is only a short hop from P.C.

What a change of scenery from last week.  The Provo River does not have large conifers lining its banks like the rivers in Oregon.   The water is also considerably warmer.  I wet waded in my shorts and wading boots with gravel guards.   There was little need for chest waders.  I took this photo of a woman down stream who was nymph fishing.

I equate fly fishing to other gentlemanly sports such as golf.   It simply goes unsaid, that another fisherman will not step out of the woods and attempt to fish the same hole that you are already in.  Imagine sharing a green with another foursome.  Yet, that is exactly what happened to me yesterday.   I was standing in the middle of the river, casting upstream into a deep hole, when another fisherman crowded in next to me  on the near bank fishing a nymph.  I was quietly casting dry flies as he began splashing around and stringing out his line into the stream beside me..  Moments later the woman in the picture above, politely asked if I minded if she fished downriver from my current location.  I told her that I had no problem with that at all since we were light years apart.   I cannot help but wonder; with all of the water available, why did the first fellow need to stand so close to me?

August 5

I caught this and other small browns on dry flies in the mid afternoon while PMDs hatched along the river.  Now, back to the river, little guy.

They are not giants, but they are quick as lightning, and fun to catch.  I know that bigger fish are lurking in the current just waiting to test my skills.   I will fish again today and spend tomorrow setting up for the show in Park City.

Some people may wonder why I choose to travel such great distances while doing art fairs to make my living. For me, it is a no brainer.  I love dealing directly with my fans, rather than selling exclusively through galleries.  I also love traveling and seeing new things along the way.  I ask, how cool is this.  I get to do what I love and fly fish the finest locations in the West in between art fairs.  That really marries a couple of passions for me.  It all becomes a part of the job.  The only down side is that Sheryl cannot always be here with me.

Fly Fish Utah You can order this, and other license plates on the web site.

Saturday, August 7

The Park City Art Festival opened to large crowds last night.  Today, tens of thousands of people will stroll up and down Main Street looking at the art.

Each year I set up in front of the No Name Saloon, a Park City landmark.  The street is on a steep hill, but people don’t mind traversing the landscape.  My location is about in the middle of the show.  If people wish to think over making a purchase before committing to buy, they can always catch me on their way back down the hill.

Monday, August 9

The show is over until next year.  I will be off to Idaho, and Sun Valley in another day.

I had a solid show in Park City this year.  There is little doubt that the economy continues to be a bit of a drag, but things are on the rebound.   Best of all, people let their hair down and had fun at the show.  It was a great time this year for patrons and artists alike.

People find their own way of celebrating and having fun at the art festival. This was a weekend of reveling in the clean mountain air and soaking up the artwork.

August 10, 2010 Ready to hit the road once again.  Next stop is Sun Valley, Idaho.  Continued in Road Trip part four.

This is the second part of  a continuing story.  It began, mid July, when I left the land of OZ in my home state of Kansas to experience the Pacific Northwest and far Western Mountain States. Fly fishing along the way, I am doing a series of art fairs interlinked with my travels.  Fly rod in hand, I live to fish another day.  When I arrive home sometime in early September, I hope to translate my experiences into watercolor paintings. I cannot wait to get back into the studio, leaving this beautiful scenery behind me. (If you believe that, I have a bridge in Brooklyn that I want to sell you.)

July 27.  Working with the Deschutes River Conservancy.

Beauty is where you find it.

We met Bea Armstrong, and she was everything that I imagined.  Bea is a high energy multitasking person who is quick to step up to the plate.  I can see right away that her job is not an easy one.  Organizing and marketing events for such a large operation requires juggling many balls in the air with one hand, while herding cats with the other. I won’t get into all the details about what the Deschutes River Conservancy actually does, but it requires that a percentage of their money comes from the private sector before receiving a rather large amount of funds from federal grants.  This money is used in part for construction projects that help prevent water loss into porous lava rock while diverting it for irrigation projects.  In the Western United States, water is king, and water rights date back for many decades.  When you begin to really think about it, there are enough rightfully owned water rights to actually drain the rivers without conservation.  Farmers, Wildlife, and Recreation Enthusiasts must all share the same water in order to mutually benefit from the natural resources that the Deschutes River Basin has to offer.  I will be working with Bea to design future artwork that will be used in promoting her projects.  This will be easy for me because Bea has a way of making things fun.

Matt Shinderman

Yesterday evening we fished Fall River and the Upper Deschutes with Matt Shinderman.  Matt is a PH.D, who teaches Forest Resources for Oregon State University at the Cascades branch in Bend, Oregon.  In his spare time he is also a licensed fishing guide.  When not guiding or teaching students, Matt is taking care of priority number one.  Matt and his wife, a surgical nurse, have a four year old son.  I find it rather remarkable that busy people, such as Matt, are so willing to give of their valuable time to take someone like me into the Cascades.  They would not do so, if the Deschutes River Conservancy did not play such an important role throughout the entire Deschutes River Basin.  Matt drove us far up into the Cascades where we experienced the head waters of the Deschutes River.

If you look closely, Matt and I are standing on the opposite side of the river in the upper left.  Thank you Sheryl, for your creative photography.

Fishing was followed with a delightful meal beside a glacial fed lake.  Snacking on chips, we sat at a picnic table eating Caesar Chicken wraps, that Bea had thoughtfully sent with us.  A ground squirrel played at our feet looking for hand outs.  We stared out at a million dollar view that no five start restaurant could offer.  As I took in the broad landscape, I began to understand why Matt, and others like him, are so anxious to protect the basin that they have come to love.  One of a trio of snow covered mountains, Oregonians call the three sisters, rose high above the crystal clear lake at our feet.  It’s awesome beauty was almost a religious experience few words can describe. Sometimes I think that many of us get so caught up in the indulgences of city life that we forget the simplest of things that nature has to offer.

Bon Appetit. Dining with a view that money cannot buy.

As we drove back to Camp Sherman for a night’s rest, Sheryl and I looked out the window at a glorious sunset reflecting pink light into the skies over the Three Sisters.

Driving out of Bend toward Sisters, Oregon.

July 28.  A Day on the Metolius River

Textures of the Metolius

The Metolius is a very special river to Central Oregonians.  It springs full force from a rock spring and begins its travels for the next 28 mile journey into lake Billy Chinook.  I will fish the river tomorrow with a volunteer from the Deschutes River Conservancy.

Today, is my 60th birthday.  We will celebrate with two of our very best friends, Tom & Martha Marple.   Tom and Martha moved to Bend last November.  This is very special for both Sheryl and me with lots of catching up to do.  The Marples moved from Wichita to Washington, DC over ten years ago when Tom was a ranking administrator for OSHA. I have an idea that a gourmet meal is in the planning for our night’s entertainment at the cabin. Martha is a fantastic cook and cooking is a shared form of entertainment for all of us.

Birthday Dinner

It is simply too much fun getting together with the best of old friends.  Martha, Tom, and Sheryl with her eyes closed.

We had steaks and fresh salmon cooked with a hint of applewood smoke on the outside grill.  Martha and Tom brought fixings for the entire meal along with a couple of bottles of a fine California old vine Zinfandel.  The food, including dessert was over the top; but the company of friends was the best!

July 29

The morning came to life as a rather large group of deer passed in the early fog outside the kitchen window.  Hummingbirds buzzed in and out among the aspen leaves as the faintest hints of sunlight played high across the pines.

This is the cabin in Camp Sherman that we temporarily call home.

It is through the efforts of many unselfish volunteers and supporters that the Deschutes River Conservancy manages to further its mission.  I wish to personally thank John Regan for providing me a place to stay while I am in the area working on future artworks to be used in marketing the DRC.  The cabin is absolutely lovely.  Located only steps away from the Metolius River, it is a perfect staging area for my work.

Bea Armstrong has outlined an itinerary for my time in and around Bend.  Today,I will meet with Jeff Perin, owner of The Fly Fisher’s Place in Sisters, Oregon.  Jeff is an expert on the Metolius River and he will show me the lay of the land.

Jeff Perin, owner of the Fly Fisherman’s Place in Sisters, works with me on my roll cast as we attempt to stay clear of the bushes behind us.  His Golden, Paloma, swims in the water as we work the pool in front of us.  Jeff was kind enough to show me the Metolius.  Jeff has literally fly fished all over the world, yet has never grown tired of the river he calls home.  Jeff fishes the Metolius several times a week, generally after working hours in the evening.  His fly fishing business in Sisters, Oregon, is very demanding, but he always finds time to donate to the Deschutes River Conservancy.  It is easy for me to see why Jeff and others like him find the efforts of the DRC so very important.  The Metolius is one of the most cherished jewels in all of Oregon, if not the entire Pacific Northwest.

Icy cold waters rush over rocks in a blue hole in the river.

Beauty is around every turn as we hike along side the river.

Wearing waders, I can step out into water up to my knees, but the bluish holes are cut deep into the rock.  Some of these holes are better than twenty feet deep.

I have often said that inspiration is where you find it.  An artist learns to see with his eyes.  I mean really see.  Clouds take shape and reflect the colors of the earth below.  Water reflects sky and timber as it moves rapidly through eroded basalt.  Experiencing these things first hand leave an indelible thumbprint on the mind. I cannot explain it all that well in layman’s terms, but actually breathing the air at riverside, and seeing the movement of the water as it reflects the colors in the surrounding rock and sky above, will define the artwork that I create for this project.

I grew up in Oklahoma, where Sooner football rules the land and boys learn to fish in any water big enough to wet a line.  Most of the fishing memories from my youth include threading worms onto a hook or catching grasshoppers in an effort to tempt bluegills in the farm ponds where I fished with my grandfather. Bass fishing was a bit out of  reach for me. Our family did not own a boat, and my dad was never inclined to take up the sport of fishing himself.  Any bass that I caught were found on the pages of a book until I grew a bit older.  As a kid, I read every article on sport fishing that I could lay my hands on.  I did not pick up a fly rod until I was in my fifties.  Today, I am almost as passionate about fly fishing as I am about my art.

Paloma stands alert as Jeff watches over Sheryl’s shoulder.  Anyone who loves animals the way that Jeff loves his dog, is king in my book.

I used to dream of stepping outside my door onto beachfront property, or making my nest in a cabin perched high on an aspen-covered mountaintop overlooking a glacier fed lake below.  Maybe we’ve  shared some sort of dream before being jerked back into reality. Others actually live it.  Life has a way of moving forward even if childhood dreams seem to pass.  For most of us, being close to nature is what you make of it.  My neighbor takes the camper to the lake on holidays while his wife pulls the boat behind him. For me it means leaving the plains of Kansas as I make tracks for the mountains, fly rod in hand.  This is not exactly a step out the front door, but it works for me.  Trips like this excursion to Oregon are very special to me.

Occasionally, people seem a bit puzzled how I came to embrace the sport of fly fishing while hailing from a state that is better known for its waving wheat than bubbling brooks.  Perhaps it is because I never had a crystal clear mountain stream within a stone’s throw of where I grew up.  Our rivers tend to run a bit muddy and wide.  Just laying eyes on a river as purely beautiful as the Metolius, can only be described in words more often suited for a religious experience. Having the natural resources that Oregon has been so generously given is a treasure not to be taken for granted.

Here fishy fishy. (it should be so easy) This evening the hatch failed to appear and few trout could be scene rising on the water.

The occasional white water rushes over rocks.

The Metolius River is banked by Ponderosa Pines.

Good times and even better friends.  Tom & Martha meet  up with up Jeff Perin and his dog, Paloma,  along a hiking trail that parallels the Metolius River.

August 1, 2010

I sometimes wonder who reads these blogs anyway.  This is a diary of sorts, that I can reflect back on with fond memories of this adventure.  Along the way, Sheryl and I have met some really wonderful people, that I am not soon to forget.  People like our fishing guide, Matt Shinderman,Deep Canyon Outfitters; a funny guy when you get to know him.  You might not know it at first, but Matt is a very serious scientist, with his pulse on everything in the forest.  Jeff Perin, owner of The Fly Fisher’s Place in Sisters, has a truly dry wit, somewhat drier than the hackled flies that he chooses to fish with.  Jeff’s dog, Paloma, stole our hearts.  Our guide up on the Cascade Lakes, Scott Cook, owner of Fly & Field in Bend, is one of the nicest people that you will ever hope to meet.  Bea Armstrong, organizer supreme, managed to somehow cram in an eighty hour work week, while seeing to it that we had a good time and an educational experience in and around Bend.  Bea, if you read this, Thank you. You are a very special person.

We leave today, but first a little about yesterday’s adventures on the Crane Prairie Reservoir.

Crane Prairie Reservoir

Crain Prairie is beautiful at first light.

If you are looking for a bit more relaxing twist on fly fishing using nymphs and an indicator in nine to twelve feet of water, a good guide with a boat can get you there.  Big rainbows in the 18 to 20 inch size abound in the Cascade mountain lakes such as Crane Prairie.  There is so much food in the water that the trout grow big and lazy, seldom hitting the surface of the water where enorous hatches are clouding the air only inches above the water line.  These fish feed most of the year with little effort, some growing to enormous size.

Bea Armstrong, Marketing and Communications director of the Deschutes River Conservancy with a nice Rainbow on Crane Prairie Reservoir.

Scott Cook showed us around the reservoir on a guided fishing trip.

Like all of the guides that we experienced while in Bend, Scott donated his time to the DRC while showing us around.  There is a wonderful community of fishermen and naturalists anxious to give of their time and support their chosen sport of fly fishing.  The Deschutes River Conservancy does great work enhancing and protecting the very environment where these guides earn their living on a daily basis.

Next Stop continued in Part Three.  Park City Utah.

Between Bend and Salem, July 15, 2010

Leaving on an eight week tour of the Western Mountain States may not be everyone’s cup of tea, but it is one of the perks of the job where I am concerned. I look forward to breathing fresh mountain air and testing my fly fishing skills in between art shows in the Pacific Northwest. In addition to Oregon and Washington, the states of Utah, Wyoming, and Idaho, offer not only an opportunity to sell my wares, but new adventures around every curve of the road. I often count my blessings for marrying well, since Sheryl unselfishly allows me this time away from home. Traveling and experiencing new things is important, and Sheryl understands me better than anyone.

Every Fall I come home to the studio with my head jammed full of fresh ideas for new paintings that are gathered during my summers on the road. These trips stimulate my thinking and give me a fresh understanding of the complicated world that surrounds me. In this way, my inner spring is rewound and recharged for the long winters that are spent in the studio creating my art.

Connecting with nature both soothes the soul and relaxes the brain in such a way to remind me that my glass is always half full. I believe this type of thinking is essential for my type of artwork. There is no better place to experience the raw elements of nature first hand than the American West. We are fortunate to live in a country that has preserved national forests and park lands for us to enjoy today.

I initiated my trip west, leaving the plains of Kansas, as a distant memory for the following eight weeks on the road. In two days I covered enough ground to cross through Colorado, Wyoming, Utah, and Idaho, on my route to Bend, Oregon where I spent a glorious evening with our old friends, Tom and Martha Marple. Martha is a creative soul with a twisted sense of humor that I always enjoy. Tom and I have been friends since the days when he and Martha lived in Wichita over a decade ago. Together, we used to help feed the homeless. This was Tom’s idea and I always admired his ability to find time to lend a helping hand to others. It was fun catching up on old times and visiting their beautiful home in Bend, Oregon. The next morning I drove to Salem, my first show of six art fairs on my eight-week tour. If you are game, follow along as I attempt to tell my story in real time. Realize that posts will be made as time allows and only as Internet connections become available.

The Salem Art Fair. July 16-18.

Forget the constant humming from cruising highway traffic or the ringing of noise pollution in your ears. It is hard to believe that this almost quiet Pacific Northwestern town is the capital of Oregon. Salem is host to the art fair that I am doing this weekend. It is not a big city by any stretch of the imagination. The show is located in a city park under enormous oak trees and piercing conifers that tower well over a hundred feet into the sky. My booth is so well shaded that I could welcome the bit of warmth that a brief glimmer of sunlight might deliver below the canopy of trees. Temperatures have hovered in the 60’s and 70’s most of the days during the show (Sheryl reports that is 102 degrees at home in Kansas). The weather could not be better and I have yet to see a single cloud in the sky. I cannot say that this art fair is among the best selling shows that I have done this summer, but it is well attended and beautifully organized.

Next week I am participating in the Bellevue Museum Art Fair in Bellevue, Washington. The Bellevue Museum show is commonly recognized as one of the better art fairs in the Pacific Northwest. This will be my third year in a row to do the Bellevue show.

Tomorrow, I will fly fish with my friend, Dennis Viene, from Eugene. Dennis is a psychologist and his wife, Caroline, is a jeweler also showing in Salem. We plan on fishing a stretch of the Middle Willamette.

Thursday, July 22

I drove into Bellevue, Washington last night after spending two glorious days in the home of friends, Dennis and Caroline Viene. Dennis and I fly fished in the Cascades on Tuesday, and I took Wednesday off to do some banking and catch up on a few odds and ends in between shows. Today, I set up for the Bellevue, Museum show later this evening. Sheryl, (the love of my life), will fly into Seattle to join me tomorrow afternoon. I must say that I cannot wait to see her. I cope rather well by myself on the road, but I miss family and my two dogs. Okay, I miss kitty, too. Friends are house sitting while Sheryl is here with me. I am sure that our puppy, Dude, who is now 82 pounds, will keep things lively at home.

The weather has been great in the Pacific Northwest, and the scenery is here for the taking. Today, will be a bit overcast with a high of 68 degrees. I will take it, as the rest of the country bakes in an  unrelenting heat wave stretching coast to coast. Most days did not have a cloud in the sky while I was in Oregon.

Never a boring moment at the fair.  Street performers add to the fun.

The Bellevue Museum show starts tomorrow morning. There will be three art shows running concurrently in the downtown area.  The Seattle area is a long drive from Kansas, but the rewards are great in many ways. I have gotten a golden taste of American grandeur, forested mountains, and carpeted green valleys, so lush that words cannot adequately describe  the beauty of the landscape as I travel between art fairs. I am definitely not in Kansas anymore. The trip has already been a chance to catch up with old friends and new friends alike. I will stay again, with close friends Tom and Martha later in my journey, as I return to Bend to do the Bend art fair in late August. My new friends, Dennis and Caroline, already feel like family.  More on the Bellevue show after it starts in the morning.

My Booth. The big rainbow trout on top of a Rambler station wagon tells a fish story that is bigger than life, but pales in comparison to many an angler’s tale.  I sold a boat load of the smaller framed reproductions of this image in an 11 x 14 size that makes a perfect gift for any fisherman.

Bellevue Art Museum Art Fair. Saturday, July 24

Friday kicked off the fair.  The weather was great with another sunny day expected today.  The crowds were good for a Friday.  I stayed busy most of the day talking to customers, although my own sales were not as stellar as I might have liked.  I had a lot of interest and hope today is a bit more fruitful.  In talking with other artist I cannot help but notice a bit of underlying uncertainty that has been brought on by this lingering bump in the economy.  As the recession drags on, customers seem less likely to make major purchases at art fairs.  It is definitely not the good ole days of yesteryear. This is not a business for whiners.  Like many areas of the economy these days, it is best to look at your glass half full and plan for better days ahead. That said,” it should be so easy” for many of the struggling artists at these fairs.  I cannot help but feel the pain of acquaintances and friends alike who are affected by this economic downturn through no fault of their own.

Sunday, July 25

I love the pastel drawings by Michael Wommack.

Yesterday was another bluebird day at the art fair.  The crowds rolled in like clockwork and the show had all the usual trimmings one would expect to find at an art fair.  Weird street performers moved through the crowds making odd noises as people gathered in booths to view the artist’s latest offerings.  Musicians played and danced, adding to the fun that patrons have come to expect from a top notch show of Bellevue’s caliber.  I cannot say that sales were brisk overall, but I experienced a reasonably good day, and enjoyed the atmosphere of the being in the Pacific Northwest.   It was also nice to see the cream rise to the top.  My friend, Michael Wommack, sold his biggest and most impressive piece that he brought with him from Philadelphia.  Michael’s work is simply off the charts.  It is truly spectacular.  This goes to show that even in a down economy, artists can still meet up with patrons who support the arts.

Today, is the last day of the fair.  Tomorrow we are off to Bend, Oregon for a week of fly fishing.

July 26

STREET PERFORMERS bang out somewhat musical notes on their heads, chests and knees.

The show finished with a bang!  Good sales all day on Sunday.  We are off this morning to visit Rainier National Park as we travel south to Bend, Oregon for a week of fly fishing.  I have a nice group of pictures from the show that I will post in this article as I get time. The trout are calling!

Mt. Rainier. We traveled a little out of the way on our journey south from Seattle, Washington to Camp Sherman,Oregon,  to take in the view at Mt. Rainier National Park.

July 27

The Deschutes River Conservancy

One of the nicest things about traveling around the country while doing art fairs, is that I can actually plan a schedule where I combine a little bit of business with pleasure.  Today, I will meet with Bea Armstrong, Director of Development and Communications for the Deschutes River Conservancy. I will spend the next week visiting locations in the Deschutes Basin developing ideas for future artworks to be used in marketing and  fund raising projects for the conservancy.  Bea has been kind enough to schedule three days with professional area fishing guides to show me the lay of the land.  Might I actually get to wet a line while seriously giving this my finest work efforts? You betcha!  That is the plan.  This is a fact finding mission.  I will gather photographs and ideas, which later, will be put to paper in the studio this winter.  My wife, Sheryl, and I will be staying in a spectacular  cabin in Camp Sherman, on the Metolious River, graciously provided by John Regan for our project.  As I sit here before daylight, writing this epistle, words escape me in describing how nice this rustic setting truly is.   I am hoping to get out with John on Wednesday to explore the Metolious River and learn more about it.   I understand, from my own research, that the Metolious offers a unique challenge for any serious would-be fly fisherman.  More on that later.  CONTINUED IN ROAD TRIP PART TWO.

Fly Fish Oregon is a 22 x 30 inch watercolor priced at $2500.

“Fly Fish Oregon,” is the fifth in my series of Western Mountain state license plates.  With a trip right around the corner to the beautiful state of Oregon, I took time to complete this new painting this last week.  Prints will soon be available for sale on my web site.  I will show this painting in several shows out west this summer.

I love to fly fish, which makes this choice of subject material all the more enjoyable for me to paint. The creel is a valuable antique creel; hand crafted by the George Lawrence Company, of Portland, Oregon sometime in the first part of the last century.  The bamboo rod and brass fly reel are also antiques.  The fun part was creating a license plate that never existed in 1942.   Just call it artistic license.

Alaskan Halibut, anyone?

Our son, Bo, has spent the last four years at a culinary school while studying to become a licensed chef.  If you enjoy the freshest of fish, have you ever wondered how the fish comes packaged to the restaurant in the first place?  It is not necessarily cut and boxed like the fish you find in the frozen food aisle at your local grocery.  Chefs actually butcher big fish behind the scenes in the kitchen.  Bo holds a rather hefty 80 pound halibut that was swimming in the ocean a day before boarding a plane on its way to Kansas City.  Chefs often create recipes, order the ingredients,  calculate profits, prepare, and cook the meals.   It can all rest on the shoulders of a good chef who efficiently orders the proper amounts of necessary ingredients while offering up the freshest meals without waste.

I had never really thought all that much about it, but fresh fish does not stay fresh for all that long.

Fish averaging 16-18 inches are commonly caught from drift boats on the Green River.

I arrived in Dutch John, Utah the third weekend in June, looking for Big Daddy Brown and friends in the fabled tail waters of the Green River below Flaming Gorge Reservoir.  After leaving the flat lands of central Kansas in my rearview mirror, I drove hard for thirteen hours while crossing three states on a 935-mile marathon.  Catching a catnap in a truck stop, I showed up in Dutch John at sunup the following morning.

Located near the three corners of Wyoming, Colorado, and Utah, Dutch John would most likely cease to exist if not for a constant stream of vacationers using the lake, and an army of fly fishermen testing their skills below Flaming Gorge Reservoir.  Little bigger than two gas stations and a red light, Dutch John is a small isolated village, so remote, that you had best be going to Dutch John with an exacting purpose to ever want to end up there. It is the jumping off place for fly fisherman wanting to experience the crystal clear waters of the fabled Green.

Utah’s Green River is a Mecca for those who worship the dry fly. Okay. Okay. For those who wish to bounce a nymph, we won’t kick you out of the club, just yet. The Green will rightfully tempt you to become a fully initiated member of those among us, who fish hard and fish dry.  Seeing a mammoth brown slowly rise to the surface, opening his mouth and twisting his neck to devour your fly, puts a charge into your pants that you cannot get any other way.  Did I just say that fishing a dry fly on the Green is better than sex?  Almost.

What embodies the Green as such a storied tail water, is the incredible number of fish per mile and the absurd growth rates of these wild browns inhabiting the river.  This is due to the large amount of aquatic hatches and food available along its banks.  If you are ever lucky enough to fish the Green, don’t be surprised if most of the fish that stretch your line average sixteen inches or better.

That is why every summer throngs of fly fishermen, decked out in their fancy fishing duds, stand in the parking lot at Trout Creek Flies to talk shop before heading down to the water. If clothes could actually catch fish, Dutch John would be the place for a casual observer to write a book about it.  As if on command, a daily parade of noteworthy guides, towing drift boats, begin pulling into the parking lot of Trout Creek Flies, pausing just long enough to pick up these expectant anglers, who have been dreaming about monster browns in their sleep since before last Christmas.

Should you choose to fish and wade, without the advantage of a drift boat and the aid of a trained guide, the fellows inside Trout Creek Flies will tell you what flies the guides say are “hot,” and also give you the latest tips for catching fish.  There is easy access along the river while walking any of the six miles up the river trail from Little Hole to the dam. For those fishermen a bit more adventurous, this hike up the canyon offers a bit more solitude and waters less fished.  You can also take a left turn from the boat ramp at Little Hole and head down river to fish the B section of the river.  Either option offers a menu of incredible fishing.  Much further downstream from the B section, lies the most remote portion of the river, accessible primarily by drift boat.  The C-section of the river carries with it all the lore of days gone by and Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.  It is in this three-corner area of Utah, Wyoming, and Colorado that the outlaw gang made history by outrunning lawmen from the three adjoining states.  The fishing on the C is said to be a bit slower than the A or B sections of the river, but it is also rumored that the lower portion of the river is where monsters lurk.

Most betting men would pick mid to late June to fly fish the Green because of the massive Cicada hatches that can turn June from a truly good fishing month into one of epic proportions. It is the big terrestrials that the browns gorge themselves on all summer that makes the Green such an extreme dry fly destination.  Combine the quality of available terrestrial insects with the large aquatic hatches that appear on the river during the heat of summer, and the Green comes alive with bugs.

I fished the banks using hoppers, ants, and black crickets.

This year proved a little different.  The cool and damp weather before my arrival had not only slowed any hope of the usual appearance of the cicada onslaught, but few if any notable bug hatches had yet to appear on the river to date.  I found guides standing in small circles praying to the bug gods for warmer days.  Some went as far as to announce that the cicadas would stay in the ground for another year.  Was I in Utah?   This was the first official day of summer and the locals seemed almost ecstatic to see a ray of sunshine overhead, instead of viewing a constant threat of rain.  The damper weather had combined with an early snowmelt, which had resulted in much higher than normal water tables in the lake.  The high lake water resulted in fluctuating amounts of water to be discharged down stream from the dam.  Things weren’t running like a Swiss watch.  This irritated the guides and the lack of bugs seemed to weigh on everyone’s psyche.  I asked myself, “Would there still be fish in the river?”

Although few aquatic hatches were actually happening on the river itself, these fish seem to thrive on ants, crickets, and hoppers along its banks.  Fishermen were beginning to take big browns in good numbers, even if not in the epic proportions of past memories.  The fish were there.  Many of the bugs were simply on vacation.  The only difference seemed that the fly shops were pushing different insect patterns rather than the typical cicada, and without a specified hatch, the guides found themselves searching for a silver bullet in their arsenal of ammunition.

By now, you may find yourself scratching your head and asking what is the big deal about the Cicada hatch on the Green.  These noisy critters are large, clunky, and often overlooked by fly fishermen.  When these bug-eyed creatures crawl out of the ground in summer the trees come alive with a cacophony noise up and down the river.  Cicadas cannot fly very well and their futile attempts at flight result in crashes into the river.  The cicada hatch makes for an ongoing buffet for the trout as long as it lasts.  Generally, that is from the middle of June through early July.

I had reserved a guide with Spinner Fall Guide Service out of Dutch John.  I came to learn the hard way that it is best to book early when fishing the Green.  Many slots were no longer available by the time I picked up the phone in early April.  Hey dude, why get into a hurry?  I had originally planned to partake in two days of guided trips on the river, but was only able to schedule one float during the week that I was to be in Dutch John.  I got the last available slot with Spinner Fall Guide Service for a one-day gig fishing both the A and B sections of the river.  Lucky me!

My guide was a fellow named Jeromey with a quirky personality as big as the state of Utah and as twisted as all of Wyoming.  Best of all, Jeromey loved to fish hard.  It was the extreme skiing of northern Utah that had first lured Jeromey away from his home state of Maine.  Migrating to Park City in the mid 90’s, Jeromey found guiding to his liking during the summers when he wasn’t on the slopes.  Jeromey seems to approach fishing with the same degree of extreme intensity that he attacks fresh powder. I often say that life is full of priorities, and Jeromey has found his.  He works as a bartender at night so that he can ski all day.  Once the snow finally melts, Jeromey calls the rivers from Park City to Dutch John his home.  I believe that no one can upstage Jeromey’s intensity on the river.  He has worked as a professional fly fishing guide the past fifteen years and knows the Green like the back of his hand.  I was not to be disappointed.

The A section of the river flows through a beautiful red rock canyon.

The first thing Jeromey told me as he crawled behind the wheel and we drove to the launch, was that there was no Cicada hatch and not to worry.  We might not find a lot of suicide fish willing to eat anything that hit the water, and we might actually have to work hard to catch fish.  But we would catch fish.  He promised me at least twenty-five “eats,” and the rest was up to me.  Jeromey had every intention of putting me in the right drift where the fish were patiently waiting for dinner to come floating by.  As he properly stated, “Fish have to eat.  It is all about making it look totally natural and fooling the fish.”  He took his philosophy a step further.  There had been few aquatic hatches on the river, but, as always, there was an abundance of terrestrials for the fish to feed on.  Jeromey explained that many of the guides would fish the banks where crickets, ants, and hoppers might easily fall into the water.    So, he posed the question, “What happens to that cricket or beetle that makes it far enough to eventually be washed down stream?”  Eventually those land-loving insects find themselves in the middle of the river.  That is where we fished much of the time, and Jeromey’s thinking was spot on.

It did not take us long to get our first four eats, and I brought four nice browns to the net.  I knew that my average was too good to be true and the next several fish got the better of me, as I totally missed setting the hook.  The important thing was that Jeromey was putting me onto the fish.  So what if the Cicada hatch had just totally rained on our parade.  It may be rumored that a blind man can catch trout on a dry fly when the Cicada hatch is at its peak on the Green River, but that was water already under the dam as far as Jeromey was concerned and we were here to catch fish.  What other river provides such an opportunity with 25,000 fish per nautical mile?  We were here on this given day and Jeromey had just promised me twenty-five eats. I did not question his methods, as Jeromey delivered on his promise.

We floated sixteen miles that day, while fishing hard.  Jeromey never let up. Then he almost apologized as we pulled in at the end of a very long day.  It was not the best of days for the Green in June, but a bad day on the Green is all in the eye of the beholder.  I thought the fishing was great. No, not epic, but hard to beat anywhere else in the lower 48.  I can see where it would be easy to become a bit jaded when you are a dyed-in-the-wool guide on the Green.  The fishing can truly be that good at times. My experience was great.  No, there were not fish feeding on the surface everywhere around us.  There were no suicide fish looking to become immortal.   In fact, few surfacing feeder fish showed their faces at all.  This was a day for good fishermen, and those not so good, to fish hard and show their metal on a river that gives up to those who deserve their just reward.

My hat is off to Jeromey.  He is one cool cucumber, who is doing exactly what he loves to do.  Life simply does not get any better than that.

The B section of the Green.

For more information on Spinner Fall Guide Service, visit Spinnerfall.com.

Fly Fish Utah is a new painting by Larry Stephenson.  It is the fourth in a series of vintage license plates heralding the great fly fishing of the western mountain states.  View this and other fun art at WWW.LSTEPHENSON.COM.  Prints are available for order.

Think about this.  Today’s contemporary art forms are the chic collectables of tomorrow.  I once had a friend tell me to invest my money in 1950’s chrome and formica kitchen dinette sets.  That was in the early 1970’s and he did not seem like a visionary at the time.  Since then, the baby boomer generation has come to eat that stuff up.  I am one of them, a boomer; and I have since learned to appreciate Art deco,  Catalin radios, retro barware, juke boxes, fat tire bicycles, Airstream trailers, and 57 chevy convertibles.  No, I don’t own all of that stuff, but in some ways, I wish that I did.  These cultural icons capture the times of my life.  So what is my point?  Collecting art is much the same.  Tomorrow’s very collectable fine crafts may be staring you in the face and you may not even know it.

I recently met a craftsman, artist, and designer at a small art fair in Kanas City with an interesting approach to making metal jewelry.  Matthew Naftzger calls his designs The Works of Man .

sculptural bracelet design

Mathew works in shaped metal that is riveted together rather being  soldered.  His current pieces are made of titanium.   Titanium cannot be soldered.  Rings are machined from bar stock, then other pieces can be riveted into place.  I found the entire approach rather intriguing and quite unusual.  No doubt his approach is the road less often traveled.  To press the edge of the envelope, Matthew designs and works on whimsical sculptural pieces that would fit in the palm of the hand.

Using contemporary metals, this retro rocket ship reminds me of the days of Buck Rogers.

Wheels move, and the hoop rotates on this sculptural wonder.

The moving parts of some of Matthew’s palm-sized sculptural pieces set me to thinking about similar craftsmen from earlier days who probably were not totally appreciated during their own time.  These earlier crafts people may have worked in other mediums, but the story is really the same today.  It is a story about pushing the edges of the envelop beyond function.  It is about creating art for the sake of making art that is more than an implement for decoration.  This is a story of exceptional skill and mastering one’s own craft; then taking that craft to the next level.

Below is a sculptural piece of folk art from another era. This walking cane takes the art of wood carving far beyond simple function.  Few folk art walking sticks tested the artist’s skill to the degree of the example below.

Folk art wooden walking stick. The use of alligators, snakes, fish, and frogs suggests the swamps of the deep south.  This cane may have been carved by a slave working on a tobacco plantation.  Snakes wrap and uncoil from around the cane’s shaft as they stare down a frog to eat.  A rabbit hides behind leaves on the other side.

Throughout history, artisans have found interesting ways to showcase their talents.  I have a collection of hand carved folk art walking sticks.  Many of these canes were made in the early to late 1800’s by masters of their craft.  I suspect that some of these earlier wood carvers sold or traded their folk art to friends for peanuts, or may have traveled from farm house to farm house showing their wares.  These intricate carvings were once made as a form of personal entertainment after a long day’s work in the field.  Some canes were whittled from naturally shaped roots.  Many were shaped from tree branches.

Detail of Alligator eating tobacco leaves wrapped around a ball handle.

Detail of carved fish resting on a polychromed red heart.

Some of the fanciest examples of folk canes were made at sea.  Whalers often passed the time during months away from port on long voyages, by carving whale bone and ivory into scrimshaw.  Shafts of turned bone made for some of the most beautiful walking sticks in their day.  These canes were often fitted with whale tooth handles, either carved or turned,  before being decorated with scrimshaw.  The pieces needed to fit together with precision.  They were riveted together with small pieces of shaped bone.  What remains today in the form of hand carved walking sticks of wood or whale ivory are a testament to the creativity and talent of these master crafters from another century.  Many of the most unusual pieces have now found their places in museums or serious collections.  Today’s values can go into the tens of thousands of dollars for the most unusual pieces.  In a bygone era, well dressed gentlemen and ladies carried a cane as much for fashion as for personal use.  The finest artisans used their God given talents to hand make these canes.

The artists of today are little different.  They apply their talents in many ways while using the materials available.  It seems only fitting that some of the best artists that I know use their talents to make fine jewelry.  Matthew Naftzer is one of them.  His men’s wedding rings are a different take on an everyday object.

This brings me to wonder about the folk art of today and the collections of tomorrow.  As I travel while participating in art fairs, I have the pleasure of meeting modern day fine craft artisans.  I am often amazed by their creativity, their methods, and the materials employed to make their art.  I am convinced that real treasures of tomorrow abound in the simplest of places at today’s fine art fairs.

Not to be overlooked, Matthew Naftzger makes his trade working in metal.  Works of Man is a collection of riveted metals shaped into jewelry and sculptural pieces by Matthew using his original designs.  How cool is that!

We didn’t simply click together the heels of our ruby slippers and arrive back home in our humble abode in Andover, Kansas, but we are are glad to return after a rather sweltering weekend on the art fair circuit. The weather was about as unforgiving as a bump on the end of the nose from the gloves of George Foreman. You couldn’t see it, but the humidity clung to the air like white on rice. As much as I do love participating in art fairs across the country, there are times that I miss the simple comforts of home. Yes, air conditioning comes to mind. Yet, there is something that we miss even more when both Sheryl and I leave home together for a weekend at a show. We miss our dogs. I just hate to go off and leave them at the doggy hotel no matter how many stars are behind its name.

It would be hard to describe the well-found greeting that we received early this morning when we returned from our short trip to Kansas City. Lexi and Dude acted as if we had just returned from a far flung adventure around the world. Although it had only been a few days since we were last together as a family, the dog’s joy was written across their faces. I opened the back door and Dude raced down the steps from the back deck to the lake shore some forty feet behind our house. Before I could say a word, he was frolicking and swimming circles in the middle of the lake. Lexi looked on with a grin that said it all. A few years earlier and she would have been right there in the thick of it. These days she gets about as much enjoyment watching and knowing that all is well. Life is very good at the Stephenson household. Yes, it certainly is.

About the show. Most of what I can say is that The Prairie Village Art Fair is a well run neighborhood art event in the Kansas City area. It is not a large show. The people in attendance are quite nice and I enjoy the overall friendly atmosphere. The crowds seemed a wee bit small to me, but that may be relative to some of the bigger events that I tend to frequent. I feel certain that the heat and humidity this last weekend kept people inside. I know the show’s administrator, and Donna does a ten-star performance. She, and her staff and volunteers,  would settle for nothing less. For artists unfamiliar with the Prairie Village Art Fair, it is worth the first time experience. You be the judge. The sales are there for some, not all.

The third in a series of paintings by Larry Stephenson, watercolor artist, of antique license plates romancing the sport of fly fishing, Washington on the Fly, depicts four steelhead flies casting a long shadow.  For many who have ever swung a fly in the larger rivers of the Pacific Northwest, the two-handed spey rod cements the moment.  The vintage plate is the artist’s own creation.  The 6000 series reel is among the latest offerings from Sage .

Other fly fishing license plates include Fly Fish Wyoming and Fly Fish Montana. Soon to come are the states of Oregon and Utah, with Utah currently on the artist’s drawing board.