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Roadside Chats: Lemuel Oehrtman
Burnt Hollow Forge Blacksmithing Deer Lodge, MT
Blacksmithing, iron roses, personal haunts, and “a little more elbow room.” |
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| By Brian D'Ambrosio |
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Blustery, a bit on the grimy side, and economically static, Deer Lodge, Montana, scarcely reverberates as one of the most attractive tourist traps of Big Sky Country. Historically noted as a kingdom of cattle, it’s a vast panorama of sweeping sunset plains and second-hand shops, home to a recently burnt down, fire-gutted theatre and a scattering of cowboy saloons. Unquestionably, the town’s major tourism blessing – advertised across billboards for 200 miles, to the east and west, along Highway 90 – is Old Montana Prison.
Just a horseshoe’s toss from the entrance to Old Montana Prison, there’s a small collage of replicated and original buildings that form a kooky, if not tacky, coalition of western folklore known as Cottonwood City. This city’s largest structures are the Blood sisters’ homestead cabin – once lived in by a group of Bearmouth area women, some of whom are still alive – and a one-room schoolhouse relocated from the town of Snowdrift.
Replete with a reproduction whorehouse, saloon, and prison, all the playful artifacts of old-fashioned imagery are to be found, including the blacksmith’s shop, where a man named Lemuel Oehrtman does more than just look the part; he resonates it.
With his stubby hands looking capable of uprooting a western larch right out of the ground, a woolly red beard, glasses, and triceps of steel, Oehrtman looks as natural as a blacksmith as Conrad Kohrs did a cattle baron, or Theodore Roosevelt a hunter.
“It’s in our blood as people to blacksmith,” says Oehrtman. “Hunting, fishing, and pounding iron are in the blood. Once we figured out iron, oh man, we took off as a civilization.”
Like so many others who go to great lengths to live at such remote distances from big cities such as Deer Lodge is, a serpentine path has led him to present circumstances.
“I moved out here a long time ago to get away from all them crazy ass crowds,” says Oehrtman. “My wife, Andy – she didn’t like being called Andrea – and I lived in Basin from 1978-1997. I met her in the hospital. I had a bad heart and had to have a pacemaker put in my chest. She was a dietician there.”
In 2004, Andy was killed in an accident, and things, understandably, have never been the same for Oehrtman. Three months later, he did something he had been thinking about doing for years: he learned the brass tacks of the blacksmithing trade, at Turley Forge Blacksmithing School, in Santa Fe, New Mexico.
There he would spend three weeks reworking new horseshoes out of old ones. It would be an oversimplification of emotion, if not a hackneyed cliché, to say that blacksmithing helped Oehrtman cope with tremendous loss. Although it did in fact do just that, it also allowed him the opportunity to self-medicate, and at the same time, spread fertile soil for the seeds of self-reinvention to flourish.
“I like the old time stuff,” says Oehrtman, holding a hand-forged beaver trap made by one of his blacksmithing heroes, a man called Hiram Hunter. “I was raised around a lot of really old people as a kid. I mean, guys older than Christ by a week, my grandmother, and people like that. I was named after my great-granddad, an old independent farmer who knew blacksmithing and how to handle horses. I’ve always known about it.
“Right now, there are only two places I belong: in the blacksmithing shop or out on the ship. I think it’s genetic. It’s something Scandinavian, I guess. I’ve done all types of things for work, and most of them just sucked.”
Blacksmithing offers Oehrtman the coruscated coliseum to forget about the past, and the opportunity to bury it deep within the carbonized coals of forgotten memories. Reality is only what’s directly in front of him, the standard triangular setup of the anvil, forge, and vice.
“I come out here and my mind forgets everything else,” says Oehrtman. “ It’s easy to forget it all.”
Even though Oehrtman is trying to forget persevering personal haunts – a loving marriage maliciously snatched from the grace of goodness for no sane rationalization, mounting physical health problems, the lingering effects of a bevy of unpropitious life choices – he has perhaps no greater interest in life than to see to it that the nuances of blacksmithing are duly remembered.
“When I teach basic blacksmithing, there are two things I try to stress: You need to get the iron hot enough, and you need to strike rhythmic blows. You need a deliberate rhythm, and to use even, controlled blows.
“There are only two types of blacksmiths. There are ones that won’t show you anything that’s going on - you know, the type of guys that want to horde the knowledge. And there are guys that want to show you. I want to be the type that shows. I mean, it’s important to pass this stuff on. We’ve been playing around with metal for thousands of years, right?”
Thanks to the trickling of tourists from Old Montana Prison, Oehrtman, at least during summer months, manages to sell a few metal trinkets, moving a cross here, a hook there, and a dinner bell or two every so often. A jar can be found in the shop which has a notecard with “401K” scrawled across it. Modestly solicited or not, these tips do add up for him.
“I’ve got a little money saved up, and I’m all paid up on my bills and property. That’s something that makes me lucky, because I’m not the most ambitious guy in the world. I like to lay low during the winter, to sit home to give my arms a break.”
At 53, Oehrtman has a severe case of arthritis, and he feels as if he doesn’t have much time left to spare. He’s feeling every bit his age – and then some. But 53, isn’t really that old, is it?
“The hell it ain’t old,” says Oehrtman. “I don’t buy into that weird idea bullshit about 50 being the new 40. I remember when I was a kid, guys that were 50 were so damn old. I come from a completely different lifestyle, and I’ve earned my 50.”
Isolation makes this blacksmith a content man, or at the very least a slightly more caustic one.
“I don’t require a lot of people around me,” says Oehrtman. “I have a small group of friends. If I were to wake up tomorrow and find the human population completely gone, it wouldn’t bother me a bit. I’d just go ‘hmmm, a little more elbow room.’ I bet gas prices would go down.”
This is Oehrtman being a little bit disingenuous here. After all, he works on the side as a preacher, performing wedding and funeral services, so he can’t always be a complete curmudgeon. Plus, he let me spend the day with him – politely showing this klutzy neophyte how to heat, pound, and curl a bouquet of iron roses.
Indeed, in a six-hour span which includes a short ride to the drive-in to chow a hamburger lunch, a walk to the prison to find a woman who apparently organizes monthly ghost busting tours, and a scamper through Cottonwood City (with his sportively plump dog, Dee Dee, leading the way), Oehrtman is quite gracious. He speaks in a free, unguarded style (awash, albeit, with cuss words, vitriolic assessments of others, and singeing statements of self-deprecation) which refreshingly contrasts the self-romanticized fictionalizations and narcissisms spewed ad nauseum by the average Missoula denizen.
In fact, besides sparks of swelter and slivers of steel, one thing that emits most conspicuously when Oehrtman blacksmiths, is his personality.
Self-defined as shy, he lets loose the offshoots of irrepressible character through quick barbs, rehearsed puns, amusing aphorisms, and random acts of munificence, such as handing iron roses, free of charge, to curiously rapt children.
Perhaps during these exchanges of craft and culture, the blacksmith not only explains to passersby the nature of his scorching skills, but even a thing or two about requisite humility.
“The thing that I find most funny,” says Oehrtman, “is that the very same people who would never speak to me on the street, they come in here to watch and listen and to learn from me.”
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Oil and Vinegar:
| A unique specialty store with European flair |
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| By Shannon Selway |
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If anyone were to tell Malcolm or Linda Cardy that one day they would be running a business in Missoula, Montana, they probably would have a hardy laugh at such a nonsensical idea. After all, both were from places far away: Malcolm was from London and Linda was from Chicago; “Missoula” wasn’t even in their vocabulary. Following their introduction to each other on a blind date in Switzerland, they married and had three children and resided in assorted places in Europe and later in Seattle.
It was their oldest child, Allison, who had brought Missoula to their attention. She wanted to and did attend the University of Montana’s journalism school. Four years later their son, Andrew, liked the idea of attending the UofM and did so - and then another four years later their daughter, Annike, pursued the same path as her siblings to the UofM. With their three children attending the UofM over the span of 12 years, the Cardys inevitably spent more than just a few moments in Missoula. And as such, Missoula’s attractiveness grew on them with each visit, as it does with so many folks.
“We were always coming to Missoula for visits and really got to love Missoula and the sorts of people that make a home here.” Malcolm said.
Later, Malcolm retired from his role as sales rep for Genie machines, and sought a business to run. That was when the Oil and Vinegar franchise came to mind. He and Linda went to one in Holland and were quite taken in by its uniqueness and its products. The whole concept of running an O&V business seemed to fit, and it indeed became their pursuit.
The next step was to obtain franchise rights. To begin, they needed a location and that’s why Missoula came to mind. Two of their children remained in Missoula after attendaning the UofM.
That, combined with their affinity for the town’s character, was enough to beckon them into seriously looking at Missoula for their store’s site. The business would require a place with plenty of foot traffic, and that’s why Southgate Mall came into play. They even had a specific store location at the mall in mind.
Apparently, to purchase an Oil and Vinegar franchise requires more than shelling out a little dough. The Netherland-based business sent out their CEO from Holland to Missoula to survey the proposed location. In fact, he visited Missoula three times before extending the franchise invitation to the Cardys.
Like most franchises, the Cardy’s Oil and Vinegar had to conform to a precise design and presentation, and if you were to venture into any other O&V store you’d find continuity.
In surveying the store’s interior, it’s easy to understand why O&V is set up the way it is; it’s inviting, intriguing, and a totally distinctive business. Upon entering O&V one cannot help but be drawn to the back wall. That’s the focal point of the store where the illuminated wall is decked out with 26 large decorative containers containing special bulk oil and vinegar products. The oils and vinegars come from the Mediterranean, South Africa or California.
O&V is happy to provide its customers with a sample of those oils and vinegars, and if a customer makes a purchase, the product will be poured into a glass bottle (in a size of their choosing, but most purchase it by a 10th of a liter). When the customer requires a refill they simply return their bottle to O&V where it is replaced by a fresh sanitized one.
Throughout the store are multiple displays of sauces. O&V understands the customer’s need to sample when they are contemplating a purchase. Sample cups of sauces are displayed with pieces of dipping bread nearby which provides a nifty way to “try before you buy.”
“People like to eat, to cook, and to enjoy different things. Oil and Vinegar has an experience for all of your senses…from what you smell when you come into our store to what you see…it’s different and not the usual store you find in a mall. That makes it very compelling.” Malcolm explained.
On occasion, O&V has guest chefs visit who prepare succulent dishes using the O&V products and finishing sauces. Recently one was sent from Massachusetts from a supplier (the chef has been there twice). The Mall was filled with a heavenly aroma that drew flocks to O&V’s doors.
Folks can even have their own chef come to their home to whip up some delectable appetizers and the like. Andrew Cardy enjoys going to homes where he can display his many talents as a professional cook.
Oil and Vinegar offers so much more than what its name suggests. The store stocks a wide variety of hard- to-find pastas, such as in Pozzo del Tre, a very long half-inch colorful noodle (translated as mother-in-law’s tongue). O&V stocks a wide range of mustards, cooking supplies, and the culinary list goes on and on!
What completes the store’s charm is not only do customers have the opportunity to exchange ideas and chat with Malcolm and Linda, but they can also visit with Andrew and his sister, Allison, who frequently assist in the store. All are very knowledgeable about their stock and are eager to share recipes, cooking hints and product recommendations.
To meet the Cardy family at Oil and Vinegar, go through Southgate Mall’s main doors, and proceed around the corner from Orange Julius. Their phone number is 549-7800 if you have questions or want to book Andrew for your next party.
Bon Appetite!
Contact info: Oil & Vinegar
www.oilvinegar.com
2901 Brooks St # D6 Missoula, MT 406- 549-7800
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Art Beat of Missoula: Sasha Nikole Smith
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| Discerning eye and snug peripherals guide architectural art |
| By Brian D'Ambrosio |
Sasha Nikole Smith delights above all else in purity of form. This she loves to contrive, not only for aesthetic sake, but so that she might impose it on the sketchbooks and canvasses around her.
A solid love of architecture has existed deep within since she was a young girl. During family road trips, she would look at old buildings and then use her fingers to trace and crisscross their imaginary lines on her pants, all the time wondering how they’d meet. Even then, to her, inherent beauty was prevalent, if not obvious, in the kind of structures that are not normally thought of as beautiful; she was drawn to the nerve and spirit of faded brick and bright stone.
“Love of architecture has always been my concentration and style,” says Smith. So long so that I have friends whom I haven’t seen forever still say things like, ‘Hey, Sasha, I haven’t seen you in ten years, are you still painting buildings?’ I guess that I’ve always wanted to be an architect.”
Buildings boasting the motif and flair of the late 1800s are Smith’s favorite subjects. Her experimentation with architectural acrylics began during trips to Europe, and her first exhibition, in 1997, showcased specific Old World architectural design components, including rough-hewn cobblestone and ornate arches.
These days, Smith is still intrigued by the tiniest details of bygone structural integrities: the timelessness of old slogans; the corrosion of metal; the staidness of industrial steel; the nature decomposition and devolvement of brick bulk. Applying an unerring eye for composition, focused on overlooked portions of structure, Smith’s acrylics – soft, insidious, enchanting – enhance the final perfection of form.
“There are areas of structure that I like,” says Smith. “I’ve always been interested in up close things. I used to like buildings as a whole, but now I’m more interested in parts. My art is a viewfinder’s image to the piece of the whole. I want viewers to use their imagination as to what the rest is like.”
A native of Montana, Smith, who has lived in Missoula since 2004, says that her experiences outside of Big Sky Country – including living abroad in Venezuela and France – have made her who she is as an artist.
“I realized my artistic obsession and passion for architecture when I was away,” says Smith. “Venezuela taught me how to focus on the finer points, and, in France, I became interested in drawing store front signs.”
When she sees something of aesthetic merit – a street sign, a beer advertisement, or a massive structure representing an older era – Smith will sketch it, photograph it, or paint a miniature version of the item using watercolors. Then, indulging in an impulse that’s firmly planted in her nature, she applies acrylics to transform her love and vision wholly into art.
Smith enjoys capturing the essence of what are referred to as “ghost signs” – faded sign paintings or billboards on brick sidewalls – of which perhaps the most well known in Missoula is the Atlantic Hotel advertisement, at 519 North Higgins Avenue. One of her signature paintings is of the large, vivid Labor Temple ghost sign easily visible on the west facade of Union Hall; another depicts a little bar near Havre, along Highway 2.
“I like finding small towns to document things,” says Smith. “Usually, I get my ideas accidentally. I went to Landusky to visit my grandmother recently, and we were out looking at old homesteads, and I happened upon this cabin that had burnt down, and was covered by huge piles of metal. I photographed parts of the metal, and that’s going to be a series of mine sometime.”
The first half of 2008 has been a busy time for Smith, and the second half should be equally frenetic: she has ample commission work lined up, as well as a plethora of shows, exhibits, and openings scheduled.
“I’m at the crossroads to go full force. Every show for me is a new series, with as many as 6 to 20 pieces involved, all depending on the size and space of the location. So I’m going full-throttle the next five months.”
Finding markets outside of the Missoula area is one of Smith’s biggest plans for the future. She hopes to expand and strengthen her support base in the region, including Seattle and Portland. And Smith looks upon the stylistic and vivid character of her artistic uniqueness as a vehicle for all her shaping aspirations.
“I haven’t seen a lot of work like mine out there,” says Smith. “As far as forging my style, I didn’t choose for it to be different; I’ve chosen to do what I do because it’s what I love.”
For more information, visit www.sashanikolesmith.com.
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| European Imports at Aspenlund Farm |
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| What will you do when they come to take your words away? |
| By Rod Daniel |
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A German couple with a strong desire to live off the land has turned to a hardy Northern European sheep breed to help meet their family’s need for meat, milk and fiber.
Corinna Szymoniak and Wolfgang Moertl of Aspenlund Farm began rearing Icelandic sheep four years ago on their 15-acre homestead northwest of Hamilton. Brought by Viking settlers to Iceland more than 1,000 years ago, the unusually robust breed is known for thriving in cold climates and on sparse pasture.
“We wanted a hardy breed that didn’t need a barn and would lamb easily outside,” Corinna said. “We also liked the fact that they are triple purpose sheep, producing meat, fiber and milk.”
Icelandic breeding stock was brought to America in the 1970s. A mid-sized breed with a fluke-shaped, naturally short tail, Icelandics commonly have twins or triplets, so their flock size increases rapidly.
After purchasing three ewes and one ram from Susan Mongold of Tongue River Farm in the winter of 2004, the couple quickly found the primitive breed possessed all the traits they were looking for and more.
“The ewes lambed without any problems outside, and the lambs thrived,” she said. “As our sheep knowledge grew we found they really met all our needs.”
Along with four pigs, a couple dozen chickens, ducks and turkeys, the flock of 25 sheep goes a long way to helping the family of six produce almost all their own food.
Milk
Corinna milks four of the ewes once a day during the spring and summer months, choosing the best ones based on a variety of factors. The first and most important criterium is milk production, she said.
“Usually any ewe that rears twins will produce enough to be worth milking,” she said. “I also look for nice sized teats with good placement – it makes milking much easier.”
The final factor is picking ewes that will come when it’s time to be milked. Because they are a more primitive breed, Icelandic sheep tend to be more standoffish than other more domesticated breeds.
“They are not like goats, which will come right up to you,” she said. “You have to coax them with grain. Picking the greedy ewes that will do anything for grain has been a good way for me to train them to the milk stand.”
Corinna leaves the lambs on the milking ewes during the day, and then separates them at night. She milks the four ewes first thing in the morning before turning them back out to pasture with their lambs. If she needs to leave for a couple of days, she merely leaves the ewes in the pasture with their lambs and doesn’t worry about someone having to milk them.
Each ewe yields about a quart of milk per day, which goes immediately into the refrigerator. In addition to serving it fresh to her family, the milk is used to make yogurt, cheese, and ice cream. She also uses the clear, protein-rich whey from the cheesemaking in bread and smoothies.
Unlike goat milk which often has a strong taste, sheep milk tastes like cow milk, she said, only it’s creamier. The higher fat content makes it an ideal milk for cheese.
“My kids love it,” she said, “and it’s one of the healthiest choices in milk.”
Meat
Corinna and Wolfgang usually sell about six lambs a year for their meat, butchering them in the fall at about six months.
The meat, she said, is mild and flavorful, without a hint of the strong flavor many people associate with lamb or mutton.
According to Wikipedia, Icelandic sheep are bred almost exclusively for meat in Iceland. The meat has a fine grain and distinct delicate flavor and is considered a gourmet style of meat.
Fiber
Wool from the Icelandic sheep is incredibly versatile, Corinna said, coming in a variety of colors. The lustrous fleece is dual coated, consisting of a soft, short undercoat, called “thel,” and a long, coarse outer coat, called “tog.”
These two fibers can be combined and spun to produce traditional Lopi yarn. They also can easily be pulled apart and spun separately.
The soft thel is similar to Merino wool and is well suited for lace knitting. And the coarser and long tog is similar to mohair and can be spun to make worsted yarn for more durable fabrics.
An accomplished handspinner and felter, Corinna said the Icelandic fleece presents endless possibilities. In addition to spinning and knitting her homegrown wool, she also sells both tog and thel.
Lambs for breeding
Corinna and Wolfgang are eager to help other people get started with Icelandic sheep. Each year they sell ram lambs, bred ewes and open ewe lambs through their Web site – www.aspenlundfarm.com. A description of each animal, including its coloration and bloodline, accompanies its picture.
The complete farm picture
Corinna confesses to not making much profit on their sheep, saying she’s happy to beak even on the sale of the meat wool and animals.
“We got into this because we wanted to produce our own food,” she said, “and that’s still our main objective. The animals give us many more benefits than just meat, milk and fiber.”
Specifically, their manure goes into their garden, improving their soil for the vegetables and fruits they grow. Also, the hardy grazers do a wonderful job of controlling noxious weeds, and have greatly improved the health of their pastures.
But beyond the quantifiable benefits, it’s the lifestyle of Aspenlund Farm that sustains Corinna and her family. Each member of the family has a special spot in his or her heart for some aspect of the farm, she said.
“My husband likes the chickens, ducks and turkeys,” she said. “If it has feathers, it might just roost on his shoulder. He also is the dog whisperer – our three dogs just adore him.
“Our oldest daughter connects with the cats and raises a couple of pigs each year.”
Her teenage son, she said, is always willing to lend a hand with whatever needs to be done, and her two young daughters are both great at giving constructive criticism.
Corinna sees herself as the manager of the small family farm.
To learn more about Aspenlund Farm or Icelandic sheep, visit their Web site at www.aspenlundfarm.com.
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| Truth, actualization, and the obsessive art of songwriting |
| By Brian D’Ambrosio |
Whether or not David Boone enjoys obsessing about life’s difficulties, the fact is that he does it a lot. It’s as if he would somehow go mad if these conceptions, fears, and frets couldn’t be sprung from his mind. Fortunately, for him – and for us – these active anxieties and reflections find vital solace in his music.
Boone, one of Missoula’s most imaginatively fecund musicians, is currently working on a double disc recording, trying his best not to compromise the integrity of his art.
“Fundamentally,” says Boone, “I hope to stay on track and not steer things too hard. It’s unfulfilling to force things. I have five day stints when I can write ten songs, and then I have three month spells when there’s nothing there. I still have those days when I’m trying to force a square peg into a round hole.”
Boone’s most satisfying artistic experiences come when he creates a song that is based on one authentic moment of contemplation, when, almost seamlessly, the chords and lyrics gel. On such occasions he feels as though he has benefited greatly from the exertions of his own creative bounties.
With Tale of Gold, released in 2007, Boone strengthened the subtleties of lyrical disposition and became enamored of the idea of practicing patience within his craft.
“Before Tale of Gold, I had the tendency to be too unbridled, too sporadic, too spontaneous, but with it, I calmed down a bit. I wanted to better understand the processes of composing, and of orchestrating a piece based on the simplest form of acoustics, vocals, and lyrics, and expounding from there.”
The end result of Tale of Gold’s experimentation and amalgamation of truth and realization, meshing of energetic melody and spiritual grittiness, and mixing of mental and social clarity, is the stripped down demonstration of tender emotion.
Like all worthwhile art, the album is shrouded in obscurity and secrecy, cleverly resisting a solid label or clear identity. The arcane content of its character isn’t a bad thing, says Boone, because it allows the listener to innocently tap into something beyond their own regular grasp of reference.
“You put it out there,” says Boone, “and you don’t try to take absolute ownership or control over it. There’s a separation. If there isn’t, you risk shooting your own song in the foot by explaining it.”
Sincerity is a naturally intimate extension of Boone’s songwriting, an ingredient he finds lost in the contemporary labyrinth of crassly commercialized entertainment trends and tastes.
“It’s a huge challenge to songwriters to be sincere,” says Boone, “because we are so oversaturated and overstimulated, and because music is another commodity, and art is another commodity. Everything that runs our society is based on economic gain and status. The sheer volume of content which we are being exposed to these days, too, makes our times a totally different era.
“I’ve gone through phases of frustration when I feel as though I need to do everything I can to get things out there. I’ve tried to do it without compromising the integrity. I have to believe that the art will speak for itself, and I hope that it will speak for itself to the extent that it needs to.”
Often pessimistic and skeptical in his lyrics without being trite, mawkishly Utopian or particularly wrathful, Boone is not an easy guy to affix a label to. After a few minutes of upbeat and wry conversation, it’s clear that he wishes not to be marked with one. In fact, he is trying to somehow remove himself from the influence of his own music.
“People are flawed, but I don’t think that art is. I try to view my music – but not myself – as an observer.”
The art of songwriting fits and satisfies many of Boone’s emotional needs by healing his gloomy wounds, and gives him the power to tell them, speak them, gauge them, and breathe them. Music has taught him that a man can make productive use of his demons. Songwriting, properly understood, is a form of art, not a frolic, to be undertaken as an act of implicit, if not intense, preparation. The process helps Boone find some modicum of reason, some molecule of balance, some tiny way to put the puzzle pieces of life back together again.
Boone is justifiably skeptical of today’s steeply homogenized, overtly nationalized, overly commercialized music scene. And he’s not the least bit reluctant to admonish our society for missing some of the less consumerist, more spiritually-based meanings of our existence.
“The shame is that there’s no inspiration in art and music today. We’re all just ungrateful and numb, nothing inspires us. We’re so unaware of our trials, to the point that maybe our trials are our numbness. Our generation isn’t inspired because we’re not challenged.
“Music is a great gauge for society, where it’s at. It’s really a mirror image of our everyday lives. What does today’s music say about us?”
True originality, freshness of thought, and inspirational velocity don’t always come easy or recognizable, says Boone.
“To some extent,” he says, “it’s all been done before. Every song and every note has already been sung. Whether I know who originally played some chord progression or not, it all came down the river. Originality exists in just believing in innovation and creativity.”
Boone doesn’t always connect or relate to his songs now the same way he once did in the past. Yesterday’s anger or resentment washes away with the passage of time, the redirection of energy, the implementation of sound emotional correctives.
“As a songwriter, you trust that the song will have a life of its own,” says Boone. “That it will remain the same is your hope. But, sometimes you don’t feel close to songs. Tale of Gold I listened to 5,000 times in the process, but as soon as it was completed, I stopped listening to it.
“I look at it as I’m writing for people who don’t have a voice, and defining what a voice is for them. Say I write a resentful song, and I almost feel bad singing it anymore, because it’s not how I feel, there’s somebody out there with a broken heart, and it’s their song now. I feel like my songs are as much somebody else’s as they are my own. I like to see them that way.”
These days, Boone spends most of his time working on his next CD, an untitled assemblage of dark thrusts, unembroidered self-truths, hidden privacies, weighty issues, personal peeves, apocalyptic frights, and social messages, scheduled for release by mid-spring.
“I feel as if these discs will be my last for quite sometime. I can’t imagine having anything else left to say. It’s a strange feeling when it’s the end of the matter, and you don’t know why. It’s a final projection of my own perspective of how I see the world, what’s right with it, what’s wrong with it.”
However unlikely it may be that the forthcoming project will be Boone’s last – the urge and drive to create is much more than just a healthy venue of release, for him it’s an addiction – one thing is relatively certain: he would rather not sing than be forced to express something that lacks deep personal connection or weighty social relevance.
“If the dial ever turns off on me, I’ll allow it to turn off.”
For Boone, it’s quite improbable that the spigot of spontaneity and the fountain of affectation will ever cease to flow. He’s a man too readily stirred by emotion to just simply shut down the press, understanding that the art of life has less to do with eliminating troubles than it does in trying to grow with them.
“I’m always struggling in the midst of art to keep my sanity,” says Boone “Just finding stable ground I can relate to, and want to relate to, is hard. Art is so unstable; it’s the most fluid thing in the world.
“I’ve done my most maturing as far as art these past few years, learning when to say when. I’ve learned when it’s beneficial to obsess.”
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| “Mind Over Medicine – Just Relax” |
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| By Jeff Schroeder, PhD Florence Family Practice |
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Many medical conditions and emotional difficulties are initiated or made worse by our reactions to stress, so I would like you to help me conduct a little experiment.
Obviously, you can just read through these instructions without complying, but I hope that after reading the instructions you will actually perform this simple task.
Sit or lie down in a comfortable, supported position, arms and legs uncrossed, and close your eyes.
Notice that, because we receive so much information visually, just closing your eyes is like putting half your brain on vacation, although you may notice other sensations or sounds more than you do when your eyes are open.
Now turn your attention to your breathing, the only vital life support function which has both automatic and voluntary control. Very gradually and gently begin to lengthen the time it takes to breathe in and back out, breathing a tiny amount more slowly with each breath.
At the same time, begin to gently and gradually deepen each breath, allowing your lungs to fill completely before breathing out.
You don’t have to force the air in or out, you don’t have to strain or hold your breath – just very gradually and gently continue to lengthen and deepen each breath, until you arrive at a comfortable limit.
As your thoughts are drawn to sounds, sensations, plans, memories, whatever, just gently bring them back to the task, and focus your attention completely on the act of breathing slowly and deeply.
Continue to do this for about ten minutes, though you don’t need to be precise about the time. When you feel that you have managed to focus your attention purely on your breathing, and that you have been breathing as slowly and deeply as you comfortably can, you can open your eyes and notice how different you probably feel compared to just a few minutes ago.
Now that you are feeling relaxed, let’s take a look at what you just accomplished in terms of health promotion and/or medical management.
You just lowered your blood pressure a small but significant amount, and you also slowed and stabilized your heart rate, both important interventions if you have high blood pressure, cardiac arrhythmias, or elevated heart rate.
As with all of the benefits listed here, a single session will not yield lasting results, but doing the breathing relaxation exercise twice a day for only five or ten minutes each time will result in significant, durable changes. In addition to the cardiac benefits noted, you decreased the adrenaline and cortisol (stress hormones) in your body and brain, leading to less anxiety, depression, and anger.
To a certain degree, you boosted your immune system, encouraging infections to heal faster, you lowered your cholesterol, and improved your HDL/LDL balance. Your blood sugar is slightly more stable, an especially good thing if you are diabetic.
You are somewhat more likely to fall asleep easily and remain asleep through the night, with less likelihood of sleep apnea. All of these benefits arise from an activity that has no negative side effects, and no cost. That should be enough to relieve your stress even more.
Contact info:
Jeff Schroeder, PhD, Licensed Psychologist,
Florence Family Practice 5549 Old Hwy 93
406-273-4923
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Western Montana Porcelain Artists Association
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| and the intricate art of painting china |
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| By Shannon Selway |
The Western Montana Porcelain Artists Association, mostly comprised of Hamilton-area women, is a group who paint on porcelain china.
It sounds simple enough, but really it is a somewhat forgotten intricate art form, that’s been gracing the earth for nearly 2,000 years. In Hamilton, the art is going strong, and enjoying a renaissance, mainly because of these women.
These women have been gathering together since 1975, and adhere to the Association’s Constitution (created in 1979 by Mary Lou Amsden for the first local club). They work together - and sometimes alone - with the goal to share their craft, techniques, and friendship. Currently, there are about 30 members.
Their exquisite pieces can be found on display throughout the Bitterroot. Presently, a gorgeous colorful array of their porcelain work can be viewed in the dinning room at the Marcus Daly Mansion. You can find pieces on display at the Ravalli County Museum, and, in August, at the Ravalli County Fair. You can also find their work displayed at local banks, and at outdoor markets.
There is much benevolence with this group. Many of its members donate their pieces to charities, such as the Marcus Daly Memorial Hospital Cancer Center (40 coffee mugs bearing pink ribbons). Two pieces have been donated to the Museum for its fundraising, and the list goes on.
When you view a hand-painted piece of porcelain, it’s hard to imagine the work behind all of that beauty. With today’s mass production of porcelain items, it’s difficult for many to even know the difference between hand-painted china or the box store knockoffs.
“I was running a booth one time at a market and this woman came up to the table,” says Judie Stauter, president of the Western Montana Porcelain Artists Association. “She picked up a plate that I created and examined the price. I was selling it for $25. Then, she turned to her friend and said something like she could pick something like that up at Wal-Mart for a couple of bucks, and then walked away.
“Most people look at a piece and don’t know what they are really looking at!”
Porcelain artists start out with a “blank slate,” if you will, meaning a plain white porcelain dish. From there various things occur to the dish, which depends on the artist’s intentions.
Painting the porcelain surface may be done in several ways. One method is to use a colored glaze, such as the famous Chinese celadon. This glaze is a soft gray-green color. Another type of decoration is underglaze (designs painted on a piece before it is glazed). A deep blue made from the metal cobalt is the most dependable color used for underglazing. The paints used remain forever wet until fired in a kiln at about 1,700 degrees Fahrenheit, for approximately four to five hours. It takes an additional four hours or more for the kiln to cool. And then, the process will probably start again, with more applications. For the artist to achieve their intended piece, most pieces are fired more than once, and some four or five times.
Paints that are applied over the glaze are commonly called enamels. Most of them are made from metallic oxides, such as iron, copper, and manganese. These paints are packaged dry and the artist applies water until a toothpaste consistency is reached. Enamel colors require a second firing to make them permanent.
Many of the Association’s members own their own kiln and paint every day, and many sell their pieces. However, their work is not limited to porcelain dishes. They paint porcelain dolls, tiles, sinks, toilets, and even bathtubs. Many have been commissioned to custom paint items for kitchens, bathrooms and floors.
Maybe the next time you examine a hand-painted porcelain piece, you’ll appreciate the fact that hours of work and thought have been poured into it, and that you truly are holding a one-of-a-kind piece of artwork.
To inquire about membership contact WMPAA’s president, Judy Stauter at 363-5150, or vice president Linda Habeck at 961-1435.
For classes, porcelain artist instructors can be contacted at: Joanna Barker – 961-4428 or Marie Langevin – 363-2275. Instructors are equipped with the tools needed to get going, and both have their own studios.
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