Snowbound

Reduced to striking imagery, one might call Superior's northwoods a winter wonderland and get away with it.

Except images, no less so than words, lie.

It's certainly true that there's wonder found in the stark season.

And I've always loved how in the depths of winter the northwoods stand revealed like no other time.

But wonderland is for tourists and does a disservice to those who live along Superior.

Mostly, they endure.

Too often, not.

In Superior's northwoods, the margin between the two is always slender. Never more so than during the long, hard winter.

Maybe you're running low on wood. Or the propane budget's exhausted, so you steal from Peter to pay Paul and sink further in debt. Perhaps you require medical treatment in February and must risk uncertain roads to get it. Or the tractor breaks down after the 4^th run that day at making the driveway passable so to keep the world beyond your dangerously snow burdened roof at least vaguely at hand.

In any event, you want this to be the winter you didn't die.

So when viewing Superior's winter by proxy, if we call it a 'winter wonderland', we'd not be completely wrong.

But we'd be a long cold universe away from anything like right, too.

Creative Conversation - 2021

 A reprint, slightly revised and with updated links. I can't say it better, except to add that my stay at Dan's Cabin remains the finest socially distanced period of my life...

For two weeks during October of 2012, I reveled in my residency at Dan's Cabin, courtesy of the Artists in Residence Program sponsored by the Friends of the Porkies, in the Porcupine Mountains Wilderness of Michigan. 

So extraordinary was the personal experience, so gracious the hosts and splendid the accommodations, upon leaving I promised myself to promote the work done at the Park by those who stand among its very best friends.

While there I led the ideal artist's life -- near the only time in my life I've been at liberty to do that, for whatever length of time. As result, I accomplished some my best work ever.

Where I've gone you can too.

That opportunity is found here.

Yes, it's in the wilderness and maybe that's outside your experience, much less comfort level, I get that.

So here's the gig:

Nestled in a splendid grove of hemlock a mere quarter mile from the road, your fellow creatives have built a comfortable, sturdy cabin just for you.

Outside, the real world rules and a creek runs by. Inside there's a comfy bed, a well equipped kitchen, ample working space, a wood burning stove for warmth with everything framed by a wide expanse of windows that let the real world shine in, day and night.

What the place lacks is phone, Internet, T.V., radio and all the distractions of contemporary life. There're resorts that charge big money to rent that sort of liberty.

Out your door is a well maintained trail system cut more than 87 miles through 60,000 acres of wildness and offering prospects that range from remote waterfalls to accessible vistas. Then there're the pristine beaches of Superior, where folk hunt agates or swim or simply spend a contemplative afternoon beneath a warming sun.

After which you might choose to bathe in the wonder of twilight as seen from the edge of the world's greatest inland sea, then marvel as the Milky Way blankets the sky one star at a time, an exquisite filigree undimmed by light pollution.

And being a creative, you will work, as the spirit moves.

Maybe you're thinking it all still seems too daunting. That you're too utterly urban to risk the real world or it's too distant or maybe you're too old to engage it or that your particular creative effort is an unlikely fit for the program.

What's true is that artists grow excuses like an untended garden grows weeds.

The Residency's hosted a rich array of artists whose work runs the gamut. Writers. Photographers. Poets. A filmmaker. Sculptors, painters, composers, graphic artists and musicians. Ceramicists and a glass artist. Printmakers and more.

That includes an octogenarian painter, a ceramicist in from Australia and an installation sculptor who traveled from Tokyo. So there's that.

What these folk share is a commitment to creative effort and the rewards earned when willing to take a leap of faith in oneself.

Did I mention the built in audience?

In return for Residency, your obligation is to donate a piece of work inspired by your stay and to give a public presentation during it -- the audience for which is involved, informed and friendly.

Can a working artist ask for more?

The deadline for 2021's entry is February 12th and I've left you little time to prepare. I apologize, but pandemic combined with the vicissitudes of life and here we are.

Regardless, most working artists have their best work compiled and at hand and I'm here to tell you that a modest if well considered effort can pay off for you in spades...

Of all the miles over all the months across country grand & hard, of the people, places, sights, sounds and smells, of the incredible history freely mixed with triumph and misery and truth and lies and glimpses of a regional future with promise unlimited -- even considering all that and more -- my two weeks at Dan's Cabin during the original Odyssey stand out for me.

So do yourself a favor -- consider applying for an artist's residency at the Porcupine Mountains.

Do it for your work. Do it for yourself. Do it because 2020 was an exceptionally crappy year.

Click here, to stop procrastinating and get started.

Because creative conversation is the name of the game and you never can tell where that'll lead...