My friends, Dennis and Caroline, showed up after Sun Valley the previous weekend, to sell their hand-crafted silver jewelry in the mountain town of Jackson, nestled at the foot of the Tetons.   I was there and had reasonably good sales, but the real reason that I had come to Jackson was to fish with my old friend and fly fishing guide, Mark Fuller.  I had planned things this way and looked forward to getting out in a boat with Mark.  If we do it again, I will get Dennis out in the boat with us.  Dennis, you missed a great adventure on the Salt!

Dennis and Caroline at the show.

Fly fishing seldom gets better.  I have certainly caught bigger fish, but being in Wyoming and fishing with Mark Fuller is always a memorable experience.

I often say that life is all about priorities.   One of the reasons that I love what I do is that I can arrange a schedule that allows me time in between shows to do the things that I love most while on the road.  This trip was no exception, and my favorite fishing guide did not disappoint.  Mark Fuller planned a special day for us on the Salt River, a small and gently meandering stream, full of hungry trout.

Sheryl and I began fishing with Mark some years back.  It really was Mark who first taught me to cast a fly, and helped create this love that I have for fly fishing.  Since then Sheryl and I have become repeat customers.  Although, Sheryl was not with me this year, Mark and I ventured out to a new stream for me.  We usually fish the Snake, but this year Mark took me an hour away to a much smaller, meandering stream with all kinds of holes and pockets strung out throughout the river.

The day was a bluebird day without a cloud in the sky.  The weather had grown a little cooler and the fish were late to turn on.  Mark promised me that there really were fish in the river.  Boy, were there.  It just took a while for them to show up in droves.

The day began as Mark launched his boat, a low profile craft, designed to float low on the water without attracting the attention of the fish.

Mark holding a typical native cutthroat trout that I took on a dry fly.  We were using rather big foamy terrestrials.

The fishing was really great once the fish turned on.  Mark got me into the fish, and I would have done even better had I been on my game when it came to setting the hook.

I have always felt that each of us have our gifts.  Mine is painting.  Mark’s is fishing.  Mark is a great guide and teacher.  I asked Mark not to hesitate to help me with my casting or advise on how to help improve my fishing technique.  Earlier this spring I was fishing on the Green River in Utah and my guide very hesitantly offered up some advice.  I told him that any professional advice is welcome when I am paying the bill.  He remarked that many of his clients get upset if anyone questions their fly fishing prowess.  Let’s get real here.  These guides have seen it all.  They take out clients 50- 200 times a year and work with people of all kinds of abilities and experience.  You would never hire a golf pro and refuse to have him analyze your swing, so why act like you know it all when it comes to hitting the river.  I would be an embarrassment if I ever saw myself on film, but each year I improve as I fly fish more and more.  And I remember what my guides tell me, even if it is not immediate gratification that day on the water.   Hey, Mark; it’s like a hammer.  ”Pull it straight up.  Not to the side, when you set the hook.”  Better days and a better job of setting the hook are in my future.  Just wait until next year!

Mark netted a nice 17 inch Cutthroat that I took from under an overhanging bank.

Check out that grin on my face.  This is a nice native cutthroat that we returned to the river to fight another day.  Mark tells me that he has a photographic mind, and that he will remember the day and place that I caught this 17 inch cut. I really don’t know if Mark will remember or not, but I will.  Life is good.

If you are ever in Jackson, and want to experience a great day of fishing, there are few better guides around than Mark Fuller with Jack Dennis Outfitters. When it comes to fishing in and around Jackson Hole, Jack Dennis is the things of legend.  Their guides, are; simply put, the very best.  It just does not get any better than that.

Until next year………..

A bull moose in Teton National Park north of Jackson.

The mountains rocket skyward from the valley floor of Jackson Hole.

Detail of the 17 inch Cutthroat on the Salt.  Thanks for the memories Mark!

(I left Jackson and drove west, once again, to Bend, Oregon.   The art fair in Bend would be my last on my tour out west.  In Bend, I would stay with good friends, Tom & Martha Marple, and Martha’s sister, Jeanne.   But that is another story.)  To be continued….

I seldom have computer troubles, but my lap top crashed while in Sun Valley, Idaho.  I suspect that it is the start up software for the operating system and that nothing was lost.   Fingers are crossed, because many pictures from my time in and around Bend are in there.

After Sun Valley I traveled to art fairs in Jackson Hole and back in Bend, Oregon.  I will post small blogs about the fishing in between.  I had two incredible fishing experiences that cannot go without mention.

For those who wonder, all three art fairs had rather small attendance as is more typical with mountain shows.  Both the Sun Valley and Jackson art fairs proved quite profitable, although the Jackson show pretty well put me to sleep because it was so ill attended.  The Bend art fair is certainly nothing to write home about where sales are concerned.  It was a much better quality show than Jackson, but people seemed so attached to their purse strings that their billfolds never wanted to open.  My hat goes off to the organizers of the Bend show.  It came off as a very professional event.  It was even the most well attended of the final trio of shows that I did out West.

Thank you Tom and Martha for hosting me in your home during the Bend show.  Martha’s cooking, alone, made the trip worth while.  It is always fun to see good friends and catch up on old times.

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

SUN VALLEY CONDO.

I arrived last night at the condominium that 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!

(As luck would have it, my computer crashed and the operating software would not boot up.  It is almost a month later and the summary of my trip will follow in the next blog that I will begin posting today, September 4, 2010.  What follows next are a few pics from Sun Valley.)

Dennis and I traveled up into the mountains above Sun Valley to do a little fly fishing.

After our art show in Sun Valley, Dennis and I found a little time to spend together testing our skills with a fly rod.  We fished several mountain streams above town, as well as the Woods River in town, and the renowned Silver Creek an hour South of Sun Valley.  These were good times, because it gave Dennis and I a chance to get to know each other a little better.  I found Dennis to be a great guy to be around at a personal level, well read, and full of interesting knowledge on the kinds of things that many of us never think about.  In this way, fishing brings out the best in friends; a camaraderie that only comes when submerged in nature.  We had left the hassles and troubles of urban life far behind us.

Typical of the 12 inch fish that Dennis and I caught and released on the Woods.  I caught most of these fish using a variety of dry flies.  One was caught using a San Juan worm trailing behind a yellow stimulator.

Dennis catching a fish on Silver Creek. Silver creek is a highly technical stream.  We fished using  only the very smallest of flies and 7x leaders.  Frankly, we did not catch many fish, but the scenery was breath-taking and the spring-fed creek crystal clear. We were not skunked.  Each of us caught fish.  I managed a nice brown that, for whatever reason, I failed to take a picture of.  The stream is in a very flat meadow and meanders in tight s-curves across a willow covered landscape. We fished the Silver Creek Preserve, a beautiful tract of land that has been bought through private and corporate donations.

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.

The Metolious is one of the most beautiful places in all of Oregon.

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.

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.

Just a quick note to say that the art show in the Laumeier Sculpture Park in St. Louis is a well organized event that is attended by an art savvy crowd.  Because the weather in early May can often wreck havoc on this out door show, the crowds fluctuate with the weather.  Sunday was a beautiful day and the crowds showed up in force for a Mother’s day afternoon at the art show.

Any given weekend, people all over this country  travel relatively short distances to local art fairs situated in grassy parks or laid out on city streets.  Art patrons enjoy a plethora of fine crafts and unique handmade artwork in a pleasant outdoor setting devoid of a more sterile gallery atmosphere. There is something aesthetically pleasing about viewing the creative talents of hundreds of artisans coming together in a single location, without needing to  participate in a gallery crawl or shop in stores at the retail level.  You may not have previously thought about it, but attending an art fair is a uniquely American experience.  It has become as much a part of our culture as mom and apple pie.  The exact same experience is not found in other parts of the world.

American art fairs may have first stemmed out of the hippy moment of the late 1960’s and early 1970’s when young entrepreneurs desired to work for themselves rather than hire out to corporate America.  It was quite primitive early on.  The first outdoor art shows displayed artwork hung on fences or leaned up against storefronts on city sidewalks. Tales are told  about artwork that was hung on clothes lines or hooked to heavy pegboards anchored against the wind.  Show tents were yet to be invented.  The shows consisted mostly of painters and potters in the early days, and these artists were totally dependent on good weather.  Whole shows were put up each morning and completely taken down at night.  In the beginning each artist designed and built his or her own display.  These displays were often heavy and impractical for travel.  As this cottage industry grew, manufacturers soon recognized the need for standardized display panels and sturdy weatherproof tenting for outdoor art fairs.  White tents became the standard because they did not clash with the artwork and white provided the best inside lighting for display purposes.  Show administrators preferred white tents for a uniformed presentation and the size of the booth space standardized into a 10 x 10 foot square.

Today, all of this is taken for granted.  I am often asked by visiting patrons if the artists rent their tents and displays from the show or if they are simply provided.  In fact, each artist generally owns his or her own setup.  There are also rental companies that will set up a display for those artists flying to the show with limited luggage.

What had offhandedly begun with a handful of artistic pioneers, soon grew into bands of thousands of independent business people traveling from city to city  displaying and selling their wares.  News of  the best shows began to spread by word of mouth.  Artists traveled long distances transporting their artwork in trailers and vans.  The shows became much more diverse in the types of creative products that were offered, as artists began to push the edge of the envelope.  No longer were these shows comprised mostly of painters and potters.  The quality of the shows also improved to the point that in many cases quality surpassed the standards of those galleries on a local level.  Patrons were amazed at the creativity and overall quality of the art offered the public at the better shows.   These shows not only allowed people to meet artists personally, but it allowed the artists the ability to successfully sell their own work while controlling their own business without the expense of a middle man.   The American art fair had been born and was now thriving coast to coast.  That was over forty years ago.

A lot of water has passed under the bridge since artists first organized and began doing art fairs in this country.  Many of us embraced this business model and went on to earn a normal living.  The idea of “starving artists” became mostly a cliche of the past for those successful enough to combine a little business ingenuity along with their artistic talents.  The way and the means was easily at every artist’s fingertips who did not mind embracing a little work.   It was never easy; but a reasonable, if not very good living, was available for those with the talent and the fortitude to get out there and work for it.  Traveling fair to fair was not for everybody.  But it provided a means for high quality artisans to sell their artwork for reasonable prices.  It was a entire generation of artists who first embraced this cultural phenomenon four decades ago and many of those same artists are now beginning to live out their lives or retire.  Will the torch be passed to a new generation of artists?

About the same time that you begin to embrace anything as your own, you also take it for granted.  Americans have embraced art fairs as a part of our culture.  Yet, there are reasons that we cannot take this cultural phenomenon for granted.  While young hippies gradually morphed into successful business people forty years ago, youthful artists are faced with a whole different set of problems these days, should they wish to follow a similar path.  The initial investment is substantial.  The necessary tools, displays,  a traveling vehicle and a season’s worth of booth fees requires  a serious commitment.   This all comes with no guarantees.  Shows no longer are easy to get into.  There is a long line of applicants for any of the better events.  These art fairs are juried by qualified jurors looking for a diversified show comprised of the highest quality artists and craftsmen.  And once an artist makes the cut, there are no guarantees that the public will show up with pockets full of money willing to shower on the available talent.  We are in the middle of a recession and main street is no longer easy street no matter how talented any of us may be.   If it is tough for the died-in-the-wool artisan; think how tough it can be for the neophyte just breaking into the business.

This has all been food for thought.  I have one final thing to think about.   Like in any business, some of us plan for the future better than others.  And, some of our planing is caused my circumstances beyond our control.  I speak as an artist.  All of those among us who are traveling artisans, are in the soup one way or another.  What may have started out as a part time business for many, became a life long career along the way.  We are responsible for our own destiny along with our own health insurance, college funds, and family expenses just like any one else.  While many artists continue to do well, there are those artists who are simply limping along these days through no fault of their own.  The economy has taken a huge toll on the art business just as it has to American industry and many other  forms of American livelihoods.   When it comes right down to it, art is among the first to go.  Let’s not take it for granted even though there are better days on the horizon.

This story reflects my personal views and a history of art fairs as I have seen them develop.  I did my first art fair sometime around 1976.  It is hard to remember now.  It was a local fair and I did not begin serious travel to other cities until 1978.  I do not wish this story to come off negative in any way.  It has been my accepted lifestyle for over three decades and I would not change a thing. There are many working artists still doing art fairs with great success.  I consider myself among the lucky ones if you want to call it luck.  This business is comprised of some of the smartest people that I have ever come in contact with.  Most of these same people are highly independent.  They work hard at what they do, and my hat goes off to all of them.

I am sitting in my motel room this morning reflecting on my show after tear down at  Brookside last night.  My show opened to a huge crowd on Friday night with better than average sales for a Friday.  Saturday was a bit off for me, personally.  The crowds were fantastic and my booth was constantly crowded with spectators looking closely at my art offerings throughout the weekend.  Yet, sales at the end of the day, Saturday, were a bit lack luster.  Having been in this business for three decades, I understand how a show can turn on a dime with one major sale.  It just did not happen for me this weekend.  That said, I love Brookside.  It is a well run artist friendly show.

This was the tenth or eleventh year in a row that I have done the Brookside art fair.  There is a good reason that I keep coming back.  The customers are friendly and always seem eager to see everything that the participating artists have to offer.  I have a lot of fans in the Kansas City area, and I saw many of them this weekend.  The overall quality for this year’s event was better than ever.  For those who don’t know exactly how a show of this caliber works, each artist is juried into the fair from a rather large pool of applicants.  The Brookside show is a highly competitive event among those artists seeking to participate each spring.  A high quality show speaks not only to the competence of the show’s director, but also to the outlying community support for the show. Artists tend to go where sales are best and the cream generally rises to the top.  This year’s Brookside art fair was a feast for the eyes.

It is no secret that we are all going through abnormal economic times.  Sales can be a bit spotty for artists at times.  I know, because I felt the pressures of the economy this weekend.  Kansas City has been hit with high unemployment from major employers.  I do feel a sense of optimism as I travel across the country and it was no different in KC.  Things are on the rebound but no one is totally convinced that the good times are just around the corner quite yet.   A hint of caution can still be felt in the air.

Artists are an interesting group of private businessmen and women. Imagine for a moment that you work in an industry totally dependent on your own sales without knowing from year to year that you will even be included in the next year’s event because of the jury requirements.  If there was ever a group that relies on total optimism without any guarantees, I think it might be this group of traveling vendors doing art fairs.  There may be no better barometer of the nation’s economy than a traveling artist doing shows across the continental United States.  The very fact that so many great artisans showed up in Kansas City for this single event gives us reason to believe that brighter days are on the horizon.  I enjoyed my weekend at Brookside, and look forward to entering the show next year.