If ever there were a spring day so perfect, so uplifted by a warm intermittent breeze
that it made you want to throw open all the windows in the house
and unlatch the door to the canary’s cage, indeed, rip the little door from its jamb,
a day when the cool brick paths and the garden bursting with peonies
seemed so etched in sunlight that you felt like taking
a hammer to the glass paperweight on the living room end table,
releasing the inhabitants from their snow-covered cottage
so they could walk out, holding hands and squinting
into this larger dome of blue and white, well, today is just that kind of day.
It wasn’t quite that kind of a spring day, but one good enough. I take good enough these days, any day.
I’ve been writing so much – time to zig-zag through the tulip fields instead. Typical Pacific Northwest rain-heavy clouds held off for a most uplifting photoshoot among the avatars of spring.
Zig-zag came to mind, when looking at the many shapes of leaves in the rain drenched fields.
But I was also zig-zagging through categories:
THE FLOWERS:
Red,
Yellow,
And the pinks, with particularly interesting stems for some:
THE PROPS:
The Wooden Shoe Tulip Farm has grown into a huge business over the decades; what used to be a small farm is now offering during bloom season a veritable circus. Wine-tasting, gift shops, tents for food and purchases of all kinds of stuff, not just bulbs, steam engine demonstrations, you name it. Great place to spread an infectious virus on the weekends, with the mask mandates dropped and people coming by the hundreds if not thousands, crowding around the wine bar.
On a Monday afternoon, though, it is glorious. Even the fake windmill elicits smiles…and the props are perfectly color-coordinated.
THE PEOPLE:
The short set varied from adventurous to shy to bored. The older ones definitely had a thing for dress-up of some kind.
THE STAFF:
People there are extremely friendly – here is the driver of the little train that brings you from entrance to the far end of the fields. He stops and takes pictures on iPhones for those who can’t get out themselves.
Woe to the guy, though, who has two jobs: attend the Port-a-Potties and yell at the people who either can’t or don’t read or simply ignore the signs that say: STAY OUT OF THE FLOWER FIELDS.
Over, and over, and over again….
THE WORKERS:
The antique steam engines are wood fueled, and were not attended when I visited yesterday. But the name Woodburn raised a memory: when my kids had bad reactions to a measles vaccination, thus skipping the second dose, our pediatrician warned us not to go to Woodburn, a small rural community close to the farms. He was worried that so many of the migrant farm workers who come to Oregon had not had the chance to inoculate their children and that measles ran rampant in the rural parts, undocumented by the state because of the status of the workers.
This was some 30 years ago.The fieldworkers are still often working under precarious conditions. I don’t know about Oregon, but last week a large number of migrant workers on the tulip farms in Skaggit County, WA, which have their annual festival coming up, went on strike. Most media headlined with “want higher or more equitable wages,” but a core issue was health conditions. The workers have been hard hit during the pandemic, not given safety equipment like masks, enough bathrooms, and are exposed to harmful pesticides. To prevent allergies and burns from acidic spray off the tulips and daffodils, gloves must be medical grade to offer protection, and the workers themselves are forced to pay at least $30 for one box of gloves.
The strike was suspended on Thursday so the union, Familias Unidas por la Justicia (FUJ), and Washington Bulb Company could come to an agreement and avoid disrupting the annual Tulip Festival. (The bulb company’s parent is RoozenGaarde, is the largest grower of tulips, daffodils, and irises in the world.) Stay tuned. Why am I not optimistic???
In the meantime, there’s plenty of time to visit the tulips in Oregon. So much still about to go into bloom.
And let’s not forget the fates of tulip speculators….. your music for today.
the leading sheep of a flock, with a bell on its neck.
an indicator or predictor of something.
– Oxford English Dictionary
Two years ago I had the opportunity of portraying numerous artists of a project called Exquisite Gorge, offered by the Maryhill Museum of Art. 11 printmakers, in collaboration with community partners, carved an original artwork each for an assigned section of the Columbia River, all of which were ultimately connected in a two-dimensional, 66 ft long representation on the grounds of the museum. Each artwork portrayed a section of the river itself and linked to the next section, forming an “Exquisite Corpse.”
We are now entering the second iteration of this artistic adventure, Exquisite Gorge II, which will exhibit the skills and creativity of 13 fiberartists whose works will align the very same sections of the Columbia River as last time. I will follow the creation of these three – dimensional art works closely and also portray the community partners involved in multiple aspects of the project, including opportunities to inspire and educate about fiber arts. The culminating event will be on Saturday, August 6, 2022 at Maryhill Museum of Art, where each free-standing “exquisite corpse” section will be brought together to reveal the continuous sculpture formed by upright three-dimensional frames.
In some ways, this first essay is the bellwether then, an indicator of what’s going to be happening across the next many months. The title, however, was mostly chosen because it relates to sheep (wethers are castrated rams, to be precise, who were leading the flock while fitted with bells to allow shepherds locate the sheep across a distance.) The phrase also points to those who establish a trend, and we will discuss that as well. How’s all this related to art? Well, the fiber for many fiber art projects has to come from somewhere, and in some cases the source is, you guessed it, sheep.
“…a collaborative fiber arts project featuring 13 artists working with communities along a 220-mile stretch of the Columbia River from the Willamette River confluence to the Snake River confluence. The project, again initiated by Maryhill Museum of Art and following the original one by printmakers in 2019, takes inspiration from the Surrealist art practice known as exquisite corpse. In the most well-known exquisite corpse drawing game, participants took turns creating sections of a body on a piece of paper folded to hide each successive contribution. When unfolded, the whole body is revealed. In the case of The Exquisite Gorge Project II, the Columbia River will become the ‘body’ that unifies the collaboration between artists and communities, revealing a flowing 66-foot work that tells 10 conceptual stories of the Columbia River and its people.”
Artists and Community Partners:
Section One: Oregon Society of Artists–Artist: Lynn Deal Section Two: Lewis and Clark University–Artist: Amanda Triplett Section Three: Columbia Center for the Arts, The History Museum of Hood River County and Arts in Education of the Gorge–Artist: Chloë Hight Section Four: White Salmon Arts Council and Fort Vancouver Regional Library–Artist: Xavier Griffith Section Five: The Dalles Arts Center and The Dalles-Wasco County Library–Artists: Francisco and Laura Bautista Section Six: The Fort Vancouver Regional Library at Goldendale Community Library–Artist: Carolyn Hazel Drake Section Seven: The American-Romanian Cultural Society and Maryhill Museum of Art–Artist: Magda Nica Section Eight: Desert Fiber Arts–Artist: Ophir El-Boher Section Nine: The Confederated Tribes of the Umatilla Indian Reservation–Artist: Jessica Lavadour Section Ten: ArtWalla–Artist: Kristy Kún Frontispiece: Tammy Jo Wilson and Owen Premore
I loved the 3000 year-old Greek tale of Jason and the Golden Fleece as a child. I mean, heroes, adventure, boat trips, flying sheep, dragons, magic, revenge, what’s not to love? Jason’s first wife Medea, I guess; who’d love a woman who kills her own children? But then again, she was betrayed by him after she had helped him acquire the golden fleece that secured him a throne. I would also likely not have loved the fact that the story described, certainly by the time Apollonius composed it in the 3rd century BC, the Hellenistic colonization of the lands around the Black sea. I had, of course, no clue about such things in the late 1950s.
The pre-history of the myth, by the way, is much older. Excavations of the 1920s and 30s, in central Turkey, uncovered Indo-European tablets from a Hittite civilisation dating to the 14th century BC. One of these has an account on it of a story similar to that of Jason and Medea. Fleece played a considerable role as symbols of prosperity; Hittite clans from the Bronze Age hung them to renew royal power. For the ancient Etruscans a gold colored fleece was a prophecy of future prosperity for the clan. (Ref.)
My son sent this when he saw the portrait above…. must have done something right in my child rearing.
Sheep have claimed symbolic roles beyond their fleece, of course. Egyptian deities were depicted with rams’ heads. Christian symbolism had a field day with innocent lambs led to slaughter, shepherds guarding their flocks, sheep being the most cited animals in the Bible with over 500 mentions. Composers like Bach, Händel, Britten, to name just a few, integrated biblical verses about them into their music. Poets would pick up the symbolism, most memorably in William Blake’s Lamb. Novelists would hone in on the image of the Black Sheep, one of the earliest in 1842 by Honoré de Balzac. The tale of two brothers competing for inheritance, of power and cruelty of life has certainly parallels to the old Greek myths. (It turns out, by the way, that wool that has black strands in it can only be sold for a fraction of the price of white wool, because it makes even dye lots much more difficult to achieve.)
And who could forget the invisible sheep in a box in The Little Prince, Antoine de Saint-Exupéry’s novella that pointed to the sheep’s possible role in uprooting the horrible seeds of fascism, represented by Baobab trees? Or one of the funniest science fiction novels of all time, Connie Willis’ The Bellwether, whichperfectly captures both the way fads are generated and science progresses by stumbling into lucky breaks?
Let’s look at the real thing, though, not just the symbolic use.
The gods certainly allot a share of unpredictable woes to sheep farming, a complex enterprise. The animals provide meat (lamb and mutton,) wool and pelts for textiles (here’s where the art project comes in!,) and milk from the emerging dairy sheep industry. It has been an industry in steady decline in this country, from a record high of 56 million heads in 1942 to 5.17 million heads as of January 1, 2021, according to USDA statistics.
There are multiple reasons for this downward slope: higher feed and energy costs, land disputes and fencing, losses to predators and/or disease, a consolidation of the sheep packing industry and competition with cheaper products imported from other nations. Add to that the fact that conservationists are often in conflict with sheep farmers for areas critical to each group, and that wool in clothing has been replaced to a large extent by synthetic fibers. Meat consumption has declined as well, from an average per person consumption of 4.5 pounds annually in the 1960s to just 1.17 pounds in 2020. Climate change is also having a potential effect on sheep farming with the epic drought showing effects. Range sheep operations rely on grazing on native pasture lands, some of which are increasingly regulated and permit-dependent due to endangered species protection. Clearly, it is an uphill battle. One, it turns out, that some young people, reconnecting to the land, are willing to fight.
Meet Merrit and Pierre Monnat who started a sheep farm in 2014 near Goldendale, WA.
M+P Ranches has grown from fewer than 10 coarse wooled sheep to almost 300 fine wooled Targhee and Rambouillet ewes and grown in size to about 320 acres. The sheep move from pasture to pasture, grazing on dry sagebrush country, perennial grassland and alfalfa fields throughout Klickitat County during the warmer months. In winter they are grazing further East and are fed hay provided locally, to ensure that the ewes produce enough milk for the lambs that start to be birthed in February.
Originally from Texas, Merrit moved to the PNW for internships on farms, and ended up working on Vashon Island, WA, where she met her husband. Pierre, growing up in Seattle, spent many childhood summers on a relative’s farm in Wisconsin. Later he got involved in vegetable farming in Washington, and was ready for farming on his own when they got together. They built the business, quite literally, by hand: the barns, the service buildings, the fences.
The Monnats live in a farmhouse that is over 100 years old, reached by dirt road. Their products – meat and wool – are distributed locally through farming co-ops, and in direct sales from their website. In addition, they have horses, and have built a greenhouse that adds produce to their list of products, appreciated by restaurants that insist on farm-to-table quality.
It is a work-intense and relatively isolated life, with little time for anything else. It took multiple years to find a foothold in the community, although by now the couple feels integrated and appreciates the advice handed down from older farmers. The farm work is augmented by shearing services that Pierre offers with a mobile trailer, a labor that requires intense skill, focus and concentration to avoid harming the live stock. If you hire yourself out to do this you are also dependent on the owners doing the right thing – not feeding the sheep on the day of the procedure and keeping distractions like dogs etc away from the live stock. It can be nerve wracking. It will be fascinating to watch him do a shearing demonstration in front of a live audience at Maryhill Museum during the exhibit opening in August.
In a state that mirrors the national trends, Washington sheep farming has seen a reckoning since the 1950s. By 2019 most of the state’s farm flocks consisted of 24 or fewer sheep being raised at diversified, family-owned farms, with only one last big range operation still featuring a flock of about 5000 heads. (A terrific historical overview of the issues can be found here.) The aging of farmers and their retirement without successors is a serious problem. Primary producers over 65 now outnumber farmers under 35 by more than 6 to 1.
But perhaps ranchers like the Monnats are the bellwethers for a younger generation of people willing to explore something new without the traditional ways of easing into an established family business. Young farmers pursuing the fleece – white, not golden. Not exactly Jason and Medea, but defying the gods nonetheless, with intense work, passion and determination, not the dark arts.
They are part of a movement that contributes to the growth of the local food movement and could preserve mid-sized farms in the country. They are more likely than the general farming population to grow organically, limit pesticide and fertilizer use, diversify their crops or animals, and be deeply involved in their local food systems via community supported agriculture (CSA) programs and farmers markets. (Ref.) And in our case, they connect to local individuals and organizations focussed on art, whether they are providing wool for artisanal processing or education for projects like the Exquisite Gorge II. Let them be bellwethers, by all means!
Rams are kept in the barn for the winter.
And in the building next to the barn the new renters arrived, Margo Cilker and her husband who is a cowboy. Cilker has her first album out to rave reviews, including one on Oregon Arts Watch. Here is one of her songs, That River from the album Pohorylle.
