The bad thing about this digital.

Maybe if I tilt the camera. Almost! There we go.

The bad thing about this digital. The built in delay. It's not exactly an action sports camera.

Ya' can't see much of him. But you see all you need to know he didn't stick it.

Oh, there he goes. I bet the cameraman under the ramp got some good footage.

Waterproof digital

This is the good thing about a waterproof digital. Bridget sent me this camera for an anniversary present last year. I finally trusted it to actually go underwater. Robin and I were paddle surfing around kehei and saw this beautiful turtle. I slipped into the water off the board and got three shots.

Poodle with a mohawk?

Poodle with a mohawk? No. Cairn Terrier terror.

It's always almost winter here.

It's always almost winter here. And that's not the only great reason to live here. Yeah, I loved Montana too. but now ten years after I returned to (Aspen) Colorado I know I made the right choice. Bozeman is just way too on the 'cool places to move to' radar. Bridger Bowl is small ,steep, beautiful and crowded. The daily pageant at the base of the hike to the ridge is a farce. Cool people stand lingering, slowly racking skis on next years pack. Ostensibly looking for friends, actually standing around as a man stands around his brand new sports-car checking the Rolex, having a smoke, polishing the polish, acting all casual and hoping for the cell phone to chime. The ridge hippies are about as nonchalant and natural as a click of 8th grade girls smoking cigerettes. I skied Bridger for 8 years. I never put my skis on my pack for the big, what is it, 500 ft. maximum altitude gain? i put 'em over my shoulder, spending as little time as possible with the posers. Top o' the Ridge is at 8000 ft. Aspen is at 8000 ft. My house is at 8000 ft. If yall want a hike that you might want to rack your skis for, meet me at the Highlands. We'll hike the bowl. I'm not a hack skier either that's all jelous 'cause the ridge hippies are better skiers than me. They're not. I've been skiing all my life. I've been a snowcat powder tour guide, an instructor, a guide for handicapped skiers and am currently a pro patroller. Oh, don't get me started about the 'nationals'. The city of Bozeman is expanding faster than the belt of the man that wins the free dinner by eating the 45 oz. meat in a half hour. Must close abruptly. Bye-for now.

Badder 'n a Crown Vic.

I never saw a Hummer police car before. There was traffic all around and I had to speed up a bit to get to this location. I pointed and shot. Hummer is actually changing lanes in the photo. That's why it's such an adrenalin action shot! Hummer took the next exit and was gone gone gone. The city, town, village, burg, municipality of Lone Tree Colorado is the one represented here. "Excuse me ossifer, is that a hybrid?" We used to have Saabs in Aspen for about twenty five years. Recently we switched to Volvos. A bit more classy and understated. The Hummer is kinda in your face, don't you think? More so even than the classic bad ass police Mopars and Ford Crown Vics'. Never did see the driver. Probably some little pipsqueek, short-guy-complex, weight lifting, barely passed the academy, family man.

Bad Idea Jeans.

I remember a fake commercial from Saturday Night Live many years ago. It was selling 'Bad Idea Jeans'. One guy was saying (I can't remember the actor) something like " You know, I think I'll tell my wife about that affair I had with the babysitter. Heck, it's been over for almost six months! Bad Idea Jeans." And some other great funny examples of bad ideas. My beautiful step-daughter Rachel is fifteen. I've been a stepdad for five years. We were aimlessly driving around the Front Range the other day while Bridget was getting Lasik surgery. We drove to Castle Rock. Yuck, too new and burbed and barbed and gated and chained out for me. Took a left east and drove for Franktown. I was just looking for Main street. As we approached, a sign welcomed us to historic Franktown. That's what I'm looking for. Historic. I didn't see any. The burbsprawl juggernaught had chewed Frank up and puked 'em out. There was a tractor dealership though. I caved. Seems that thirty miles south just isn't enough miles anymore. Much more south and we'd be pile driving into that bastion of neocon, fundamentalist, republican, right-wing extremism, Colorado Springs. Best just give it up and drive back toward the megalopolis and get something to eat at oh, maybe a Chili's or an Applebee's. Mmmmmmm. We didn't eat. I'd rather fast than slow-fast-food. So we take the big new four laner north. We are not on the interstate, but in this case, same diff. As we approached Parker, there it is. A sign. It says Main Street. Sweet! Before we even parked, Parker proved to be a bit too brand new. "Main street," well, it wasn't the one I was looking for. Sure, there's a little gingerbread on the porchs. Yeah, the sidewalks are sort of like boardwalks. There are some genuine fake saloon doors and everything. 'Course they didn't lead you into a 'saloon'. They led you into a salon. What a difference an O can make. It was friggin' hot. The frillydilly sign said Coffee & Books. We entered. Looking for books, not coffee. Rows of pulp paperback trash insulted us mercilessly. The people sitting and sipping fit the faux. We had seen a sign for a pet store. In a quickly thought saving-grace move, I asked the barristra where it was. I acted like that's why we had entered. She pondered all friendly like. Thumb on chin looking up at the fan. It turned slow lazy and did nothing to the air. Returning to earth with a gentle back and forth nod suggesting no, she indeed said, "No, I don't know of one anywhere around here. But you should ask Linda next door at Panache. She's been here for two years. She would know." We departed. We didn't ask Linda. We found the pet store. This is the maybe not a very good Step-Dad, Bad Idea Jeans part. I'm also a complete animal lover. In a different situation, we would have all kinds of critters, as my Mom (Mammacat) does. The place was filled with the cutest god-damned puppies ever. "Duh, no shit Steve." And we zero'd in on the one above. I told Rachel all the parent things about how to please realize that most likely we wouldn't be getting another dog right now. I told her all the reasons as I fell in love, right along with her with this little heart-breaker, big-eared Yorkshire Terrier. Rachel thought of a name for him. The perfect name I admit. 'Link' from Hairspray which we had just seen the night before. We never ate. We stayed there 'cause it was only going to be harder to leave the longer we stayed. We stayed. We went back the next day with Bridget. Bad Idea Jeans. I took pictures of him, Link, even with Rachel. Extra large Bad Idea Jeans. We didn't eat that day either. We got dang close though, up in Idaho Springs at BeauJo's Pizza. We were even seated. but, Rachel insisted on insisting. She couldn't cheer up. Poor kid. I gave cool Step-Dad suggestions. I finally told her she could leave or we could leave. No, she says. So I respond maturely and drop a fiver on the table to cover our drinks and walk out, kinda making a scene and I could give a shit. Damn, I could have used saloon doors then! Anyway a big ol' cry, yell, scold, hug, laugh, talk, listen session ensues. The main thing it accomplished was that we wasted a bunch of time and now we had to leave. Hungry. Ironically, we had to get to the kennel in time to get Ellie, our sweet baby thing Cairn Terrier that Rachel also named. She's four. She weighs twelve pounds. We won't be going to any more pet stores any time soon. Really kinda stupid of me. And we all, but mostly Rachel, went through heart wrenching trouble for it. So there's the next theme for Bad Idea Jeans. "Hey, I think I'll take my fifteen year old step daughter to the cutest puppies in the world pet store for two hours. But, we're not getting one." Bad Idea Jeans.

A small sampling of my art

The top two images are examples of my commercial work. I am a political cartoonist as well. Below we have a t-shirt design I did. Two fine art examples follow. The four final images are from two of the three children's books I illustrated. I shall post more examples once I get them scanned.

Slippers in Alaska

Barbara 'Sue' titled this image "Steve talking, girls don't care." Yeah, but just look at those bearded boys raptly paying attention as I told my tale! Thing is, I'm still talking and what a story it is. This shot is in Alaska the summer of '81. Holy crap, I guess that makes us friends for life. We were hanging out at an obscure abandoned mining site near Fairbanks. There was an old dredge, a crane, a sifter and other giant things. These relics were an a grand scale. Things are big in Alaska. The next pic shows us on top of the crane. It was really huge, the tallest crane I have ever seen before or since. And I've seen some big ones. I picked up clients at the airport in Las Vegas in the mid nineties during the crazy building boom that expanded the town over towards the airport. I counted eleven cranes from one vantage point, all big, all busy swinging around like hyper tether balls. None were as big as the rust frozen one in AK. Not only is the abandoned stuff big in Alaska but there is plenty of it and it is of a certain vintage and/or genre. I ended up living on Cranberry Lane out past Airport Way in a , well, I always call it a cabin but old photos verify that it in fact was a cabin only in the sense that it had no electricity or plumbing. In all other respects, it can honestly only be called a shack. But the word shack brings up semi romantic images as well, you know, like, chicken shack or something, admittedly not nearly as many as the word cabin. But, truth be told, my place was not a cabin nor a shack but a lowly shed. Shed does not sound romantic or rustic. It was on the Chena River and the government issue mosquito repellent that Barbara Sue gave me worked well. It also melted plastic. Of the giant eccentric structures on the property, I most remember the big barge crashed on river right. Apparently it couldn't negotiate the curved waterway or maybe it was intentionally scuttled. Trees were growing out of it and silt was gathering in an eddy at its bow. The size of the property was actually increasing. There was also an old fuselage laying out in the woods. I love Alaska for this and other reasons. I've still never been back. It's a long expensive ways away unless you hitch-hike like I did. Aspen to Santa Barbara to Fairbanks with a guitar I didn't know how to play. Four thousand miles in three weeks. But therein lies the tale I might have been telling as we stood young and adventurous together in Alaska for an epic split second of all our lives.

Thanks Rachel!

A piece of a painting that took a couple tries. The first try had a much more primitive cartoonish house, no people and a comic red truck where the dancers now dance. I had all this sky and I didn't know what to put in it but it needed something compositionally. My first leanings are usually architectural, houses, buildings, bridges, cars etc. Rachel (my fifteen year old) suggested dancers. I am grateful for the idea and I wouldn't have thought if it on my own. I plan on using this idea more. Thanks Rachel!

Other people's dreams

This whole Kinsaw thing has been on the surreal side. Just how I like it. I haven't talked much yet about my friend Max. He's a good guy and he named his son Zen. My lot at this time seems to experience many types of lives. I realized that to some extent I'm visiting other people's dreams. It's a lot of hard work to turn a dream into a reality. I've got dreams yet too. It's educational to see the commitment and effort put forth by others and watch the dream be realized. My dreams consist of literary success and artistic success. I've attained most of my other dreams so far. Maybe some weren't so lofty or important in the grand scheme of things. But we all come from different backgrounds and circumstances. To be a river guide, to lead mountain bike trips, to travel, to love, to learn, to be a powder skiing guide, an instructor, a ski patroller, these and others have been attained. To illustrate childrens books is another. So now specifically they are paint, photograph and write. Among others. Good night. Peace, pedal, paddle or oar, Steve.

To and fro

Tomorrow I'll relate how I got to Kinsaw and how I got home.

Kansas, er I mean, Kinsaw doesn't have to be flat.

Locally quarried limestone church.

Here comes the sun.

Eventually the sun returned to nourish the state flower. I got one more good day on the Versatile. I dragged around an implement called an undercutter this time. Just like anywhere, the sun transforms the landscape. An old garage and a plow attachment take on a new light and colors stand out anew. The fertile plains burst with new crops. We got the wheat harvested. That's the most important thing.

''DON'T LOSE YOUR RIDING PRIVILEGE!''

I think this would make a cool tee shirt. The Superior Coach emblem on front left and the rules on the back. But it's late and I'm really doing this one last post for the day to ask, how come if Arkansas is pronounced Arkinsaw, why is Kansas called Kansas? I'm going to call it Kinsaw for a while and see how that goes. I mean what's the matter with Kinsaw anyway?

Dumber 'n a box of rocks?

Certainly farmers are considered by some as not the most fertile 40 acres on the spread. Their world being the land of well, land. Their concerns are grounded literally. Dirt, water, plants, animals, poop, machinery, and especially weather are the tenets of the culture. Soft spoken, simple spoken, understated, fair, friendly, honest, loyal, hard working,dedicated and not easily driven to distraction can be considered some of the basic attributes of farmers. Of neccesity, they live in the country, often far from even the most rudimentary society and culture of some small half boarded up town. Their easy exterior and genuine two and three fingered wave from the steering wheel with the simultaneous subtle nod and slight smile could sure lead an outsider to think, 'My how trusting, what fools, how easy would it be to scam these folks'. And to be sure farmers have been scammed and led astray many times and in one case by none other than the kings of unfairness and underhanded, self-serving lowlifes, yes, the federal government. Just like how they had to make Hummers attractive to the U.S. public so they could get rid of the surpluses, also included in this list could be Jeeps from WWII thus inventing the 4 wheel drive craze that continues unabated to this day. Those little Willys are innocuous enough and it's only fair to mention that this is the same reason we have rafting the way we do, surplus rubber rafts from the greatest generation. I consider that a good thing. Post WWII saw farming transform on a national scale from natural handed down methods to hugely strictly chemically based. Thanks to yours truly, the U.S. government. Yields skyrocketed and one man could farm what would have taken a large family of boys only ten years earlier. Chemicals were introduced to the trusting and usually struggling farmers and poured into the industry cheaply and promoted maybe less than totally truthfully. Where do those chemicals go after they have been spread on the ground? After that rainstorm the other day, we were driving and saw something white ahead. It looked like snow. As we approached, we saw that it was a large jiggling blob of suds. You would have to call them suds. Like soapsuds. This one little culvert looked like an I Love Lucy overflowing washing machine skit. Chemicals. Lots of cancer hereabouts. I met two people fighting cancer in my two weeks there. Now that I think of it, I only met three people during my stay. Okay, I'm jumpin' from this soapbox and getting back to my main subject. Let's see if I can quit reveling in my grasp of language and simply make my long beleaguered point. That sentence is an ominous harbinger of this juggernaught I am being seduced by. Okay, geez. Not all farmers are dumb. The above mentioned attributes are highly commendable. My short experience taught me that ranch ingenuity is alive and well among farmers. Keeping herds of animals alive or acres apon acres of grain or corn or whatever? And some of the urbanites that streak by pushing the limits of their Subaru Tribeca couldn't keep a fish alive. Anyway, not my most coherent post but hey, lots of misspelled words (all since corrected)! This all came from the photo of the box of rocks.

Landscape photography in Kansas.

The challenge of landscape photography in Kansas is obvious enough. Don't put too much sky in it unless there is something in IT like amazing clouds, emotional color or maybe a tornado or two.

An implement called a 'drill'. It plants seeds.

Max's land and combine. A '95'.

Dale's land and combine. a 'Gleaner' not a '95'.

Brooding sky.

Wet color.

And these.

Discer and tree,

Paint emulates clouds.

The shed door and the floor.

Like these.

Up, up and away.

Satellite image or macro?

Fast forward, skier from right to left.

Now do you want to be a farmer?

After we lost two days and almost one tractor in the new pond, I finally went discing again. I was planning on a good long session of at least eight hours. Three hours later it started raining. Half an hour later the road was barely passable . . . on foot. Max got the little front wheel drive Geo Prism stuck in the road and left it there. I got the Versatile in the shed. We worked on the combine, trying to fix the auger and other manly things to say over the next couple days. It took three more days for the ground to get almost dry enough to go back out. I didn't build any shingle Totos but I did shoot a bunch of photos that can only be described as 'creative'. Not this one particularily, I just stuck the waterproof digital outside and snapped. How do you like farming so far?