Somewhere in a small mountain in Colorado, you’ll find… not much. There is no Starbucks, no hustle and bustle of workers, no car horns, not even much of a cross walk.
But there is an artist who maintains his small studio in this town. Upon entering the artwork jumps out at you, war planes, cars and jets line one wall, and on the other are picturesque mountain scenes, lakes and animals ranging from safari giraffes to mountain goats.
A podcast is put on pause as the artist turns around from his canvas in progress, postisioned directly in the middle of this artwork divide.
He wastes no time. “You see I have two styles of painting, there is my left side brain, he said pointing to the war vehicles. “And this is my right side of the brain.” indicating to the mountain landscapes.
I can’t quite say I’ve met an artist who claims to be both brains, as typically artists land on the right or “creative” side of the brain spectrum. But the detailed planes and tanks and submarines were crafted as if they were engineer drafts.
Among the paintings were two objects that were not art. There was a purple heart and a valor of honor from Vietnam placed among the left sided paintings and on the right side, a slightly rusted mining tool with a new handle cover made of Styrofoam.
“Are you hikers?” He causally asked. My husband and I said yes. I was grateful that at least we had showered that day. The artist right away had to show us his mining tool. “This,” he said, “puts any trekking pole to shame! I was given it from a local, they don’t make things like this anymore.” He demonstrated how the bottom pick can really wedge into the rock.
“You see when I hike I think, what would an elk do.” He explained how he had been all over the mountains in the area both on and off trails. He even had relics from abandoned homes he found. He told us how people think where he hikes is crazy, but he simply just thinks like an elk, and goes up.
He had paintings of Uncompahgre and all the main five peaks in the area. Have you ever summited Uncompahgre? I asked.
He preference was clear, “I think some things are better left in the distance.”
It was evident there was a past this artist continually put in his distance. As a Vietnam vet I can only imagine the horrors he endured, but he seemed at peace with his art and at peace in this small mountain town. It was a town he no longer left as he informed us in the winter months nothing was really open besides his studio and the post office.
“You see there’s only three reasons people come here 1. To escape society, 2. To escape themselves and 3. To escape the law.”
As we purchased a small military plane painting I couldn’t help but assume that our two-brained painter was trying to escape society or maybe himself?
After thanking the artist for all the information we left. The studio bell rang as we walked out the small shop door into the cloudless Colorado sunshine, and I couldn’t help but wonder, what was I trying to escape?
