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A Community of Artists
It seems we far too often see only the finished product. It’s something we don’t tend to consider frequently enough—the work that went into creating a finished painting, sculpture, photograph or story. How many hours does it take to complete a true work of art? How many times did a photographer return to the same place, battling the seemingly unending disappointments of poor weather, bad lighting or any other number of factors, and then one day it’s just there, right before them, waiting to be captured and shared? How many readers sit down to enjoy a magazine or a book and forget the number of drafts, revisions and rewrites that went into creating that story? The more I see of the process the more I appreciate the final product.
This month we released the Fall Issue of the magazine and it got me thinking along these lines. Our cover photograph was taken by Michael Peterson. He had to spend hours out at Stonehenge waiting for the right light, the preferred amount of cloud cover and the perfect angle. I am lucky enough to see the labor of so many talented Columbia Gorge photographers as they submit their best stuff for publication. I am even luckier to get to tell some of them that their effort has paid off, and that they’ll be featured in the magazine. Even after hundreds of photographs, I’m always anxious to click to the next shot and see what’s waiting for me.
Any visitor to the area gets to take in an impressive number of brilliant and inspiring artists. Many residents overlook the galleries, jewelers, museums and studios until one day they are walking around after lunch and something grabs their eyes and sends their minds spinning. When we’re surrounded by so much natural splendor and so many opportunities to interact with this virtual wonderland we call home, it gets harder and harder to slow down and see the awe inspiring works our local artists are putting forth every day.
It’s easy to look past those that toil in studios, in front of a blinking cursor on a white screen or behind the crowds of people clicking shot after shot and hoping to get one good one. They don’t do it for the recognition, though as Rip Caswell recently pointed out to me while I interviewed him for the Fall Issue, the recognition doesn’t hurt. They do it because they love it. They do it because they’re blessed with an ability that not many have. They do it because they know they’re meant to, and they wouldn’t know what to do without it. You would struggle to find a painter or an illustrator that does their art for the money. Even those blessed with the greatest talent seem hard pressed to find financial reward for their work. They’re not complaining—they get something much greater from it.
We at Columbia Gorge Magazine were recently shaken by the fire that claimed photographer Blue Ackerman’s studio in White Salmon. It took not only her work and her place of work, but also the art of several other talented people. I have been lucky enough to work with Blue on a few issues, those staff members who have been here longer than me have been blessed enough to collaborate with her even more. It’s at these difficult times that my heart grows warm to see the sympathy and desire the community exhibits as they reach out to help a local artist.
I am so impressed by the ability of artists to endure. Just a week after the fire, Blue picked up the camera and did a shoot for the magazine that captured everything we needed to properly highlight a well-written story. I know our readers will enjoy the piece and the photographs for what they are on the surface, but we who know the events that preceded that photo shoot get something even more enriching out of it. We get inspired to endure.
Perhaps it’s my bias for the written word, but I think we seem to most often forget the great skill and patience it takes to capture the essence of the Columbia Gorge in writing. It’s just a bunch of black words on a white page, but somehow the best writers make it resonate with a reader. They make the simplest words or ideas sing. I try to read the region’s newspapers on a daily basis, as well as a few of the blogs produced by local writers, and I almost always find myself captivated by something I didn’t know I found interesting before. In our Fall Issue, Lori Russell made canning food a fascinating experience. It’s a gift of persuasion, a talent for pointing out the right things at the right time and an ability to capture someone’s attention with nothing more than 26 letters, ten fingers and the imagination that makes a great writer. I count myself incredibly fortunate to get to read the rough drafts of our magazine’s featured writers, and then to see the profound transformation that takes place as they perfect each segment, each line, to create a great final product. I don’t know that I’d appreciate the finished work so much if I hadn’t seen the toil that goes into producing it. I have made it my personal challenge to find that in other works of art.
We are often lucky enough to meet and interact with those who do this great work, because they call the Columbia Gorge home. So many of the pieces that adorn the walls of galleries and museums in the area were inspired by the community or the natural beauty that surrounds us. I’m not sure which is a greater talent: the ability to capture the indefinable beauty that surrounds us, or the skill to make the seemingly mundane become interesting. I don’t really care to know the answer either. I’m content to relish in the fact that so much great art comes out of this community, and the fact that I get to see some small part of that often takes my breath away.
Tags: art, artist, blue ackerman, captivate, capture, columbia gorge, column, craft, design, draft, editor, final, fine art, gallery, gorge, inspiration, library, lori russell, matt, media, michael peterson, mundain, museum, natural beauty, pain, Painting, patience, photo shoot, photograph, photography, product, rip caswell, sculpture, shoot, skill, studio, werbach, work, writer, writers, writing
The Context of Our Lives
One of the great perks of my job is finding my way into situations that I would normally never experience. In an effort to keep things original, interesting and fresh for the readers of Columbia Gorge Magazine, I’m constantly reading everything I can get my eyes on and taking notes. You never know when a story will emerge or when you’ll stumble upon the perfect interview subject. Just a few weeks ago I had the opportunity to conduct an interview that has had me thinking—a lot—ever since. It’s rare, when you read all day everyday, write in your spare time and take great pride in knowing what’s going on in your community and beyond, that you stumble upon something you’ve overlooked or forgotten about.
A few Wednesday’s ago I had a chance to enter into a world that—because of my age and my life experience—I had never entered. I volunteered with the Gorge Heroes Club in their efforts to assemble, pack and ship care packages to soldiers from the Columbia Gorge that are serving in Iraq and Afghanistan.
I read about the wars on a daily basis; I even like to think that I talk about them and think about them more than the “others” of my generation who’ve forgotten or turned away. How much of this is because of the amount of news I read for my job, and how much of it is my general curiosity about the field of battle, are two questions I don’t have the time and space to explore here, but something from that meeting has kept my mind reeling.
In the darkened, hanger-style warehouse of the Western Antique Aerospace and Automobile Museum I was met with the faces of several soldiers’ parents, spouses and family members. Those faces evoked stress. Their way of looking at you was a bit scattered at first, as if their minds were somewhere else, and who could blame them for that. What I saw that evening as we packed boxes, signed cards and socialized was a level of commitment and dedication from the home-front that I am yet to experience in any other place as these nearly decade-long wars have raged on. I know much of this is political, and I don’t even want to near that line of discussion. What I do want to say is that the level of dedication from these volunteers was simply heartwarming. What bothered me was the thought that these very people who are so giving of their time, money and efforts are the same people who have already given themselves over to the anxiety-ridden, all-encompassing fear that comes with having a loved-one at war.
It all got me thinking back to my college days and my work studying the war literature of Tim O’Brien for my undergraduate thesis. Many may know his novel The Things They Carried, which chronicled his involvement in the Vietnam War. In it, O’Brien uses fictional characters and fabricated situations to try to convey the emotions, fear, dread, boredom, mind-games, pain and more that come with being a soldier. As I was pondering the inevitable parallels—fair or not—that have been drawn between Vietnam and Iraq or Afghanistan, an old quote I couldn’t completely recall kept playing in the back of my mind. With some luck and some thanks to my younger self, who took down page numbers and marked quotes for everything I read, I found the lines in O’Brien’s most recent novel, July, July from 2002. As I thought, the lines don’t just resonate with the echoes of the Vietnam era; they carry an even more striking tenor today. In July, July, O’Brien has created a fictional college class, the Darton Hall College class of 1969, and from it he contrasts those who fought in Vietnam with those who stayed and went to college. The story centers on the modern-day class reunion and explores the effects the war has had on the characters. In the following lines, O’Brien taps into much of what I’ve been feeling since leaving the Gorge Heroes Club packing event.
“And while people perished on the far side of the planet, other people had their teeth filled, and filed for divorce, and made love in parked cars.
Freshmen were oriented.
The Mets were on a roll.
Small, simple things, yes, but in some great nationwide darkroom, the most ordinary human snapshots would be fixed in memory by the acidic wash of war—the music, the lingo, the evening news.”
We all know the legacy of the Vietnam War. We know the protests, the lack of support showed to some returning soldiers, the divisive politics. One parallel I don’t see, not at all, from this current set of wars to the one O’Brien is writing about is the backdrop. When we look back historically we see the scenes of the late 1960s set against the backdrop of the Vietnam War. We understand much of what happened in the years after the war to be a result of the war. Will we feel this way about the two wars we’re fighting now? We’re a larger country, we’re a very politically divided country and we are in a news-cycle and internet age that we haven’t harvested an understanding of yet.
I guess a lot of what stuck with me after interviewing RaeLynn Ricarte, one of the founders of the Gorge Heroes Club, and after volunteering at their event, is that much of our country today is missing the context—the backdrop—that these wars are providing us. Regardless of our opinions, politics and arguments, these wars are taking place. I’m glad I had the opportunity to be reminded, very gently, of the sacrifices and spent-lives these wars have already demanded. For the most part, we can choose how we feel about a major event like a war; we can even choose whether or not we go, or, thanks in large part to modern news coverage, we can choose whether or not we even pay attention to these wars. What we can’t choose is the fact that they’ve happened. They’re going on now, and they’ve become the backdrop to our era. Our new millennium, our new century, the last nine years and the next few years will all be set against a backdrop of war. I don’t ever want to forget that, and I’m not sure it’s healthy for any of us if we do.
Tags: article, columbia gorge, columbia gorge living, column, gorge, matt werbach, raelynn ricarte, soldier, war
