From the traditions of the American West to the world of luxury leather craftsmanship, Hailey-based artist Morgan Buckert is preserving the art of making things by hand.

Custom cowboy boot maker, leatherworker, and Western history expert Morgan Buckert has built a practice rooted in craftsmanship, cultural heritage, and an enduring appreciation for materials. Featured in The New York Times, Buckert brings a distinctive perspective to contemporary Western craft, informed by her work with Nest and a mentorship with the renowned French luxury house Hermès.

Working from her Hailey, Idaho studio, Buckert uses traditional techniques and vintage machinery to create custom cowboy boots and leather goods designed to last a lifetime. Her work was also featured in SVMoA's Idaho Cowgirl Congress, an exhibition exploring the evolving identity and culture of the American West.

This November, Buckert returns to SVMoA to lead Hand-Stitched Leather Tote Bag on Saturday November 14, a hands-on workshop inviting participants of all experience levels to discover the artistry of leatherworking and create something enduring.

Ahead of the workshop, SVMoA Voices spoke with Buckert about the history of Western craftsmanship, the value of traditional skills, and the beauty of making things that last.

Q: Your journey as a custom cowboy boot maker is fascinating. What first drew you to this highly specialized craft, and how has your interest in Western history influenced your artistic practice?

I’m the 7^th generation of a Texas ranching family, and beautiful objects, like saddles, spurs, and cowboy boots, were just a part of life.  My parents had custom cowboy boots, and I received my first pair for high school graduation.  I was a fly-fishing guide throughout my 20s and was looking for something more.  I was sewing a lot and saw the opportunity to go to a shoe making school.  After day one, I was all in, and had hopes of making my own cowboy boots.  I had never been so fully fulfilled—my brain was full, and my body was tired.  I love making cowboy boots because of the combination of math, creativity, and brute force.  I’m known for boots with mountains and wildflowers. And, I now use a ranchers tool, cowboy boots, to tell stories about conservation, and the places special to our lives.

Q: Your work has received national recognition, including a feature in The New York Times and the Heritage Craft Prize from the nonprofit Nest. What do you think is driving renewed interest in traditional craftsmanship and handmade objects, particularly those connected to the American West?

In a world of fast fashion, Amazon, and now AI, people are grasping for something real, something meaningful.  Shoemaker used to be one of the most common jobs in the world and now it’s pretty rare.  It’s special to have a truly bespoke experience.  This is slow, real work, and people want to experience that, and get to tell their story through cowboy boots.  What’s more American than to be a cowboy.  Western culture is experiencing one of its longest periods of popularity, and I think one of the driving forces behind that, besides Beyonce and the show Yellowstone, is that work like mine is so deeply personal, and strongly connects people to place.

Q: You've been involved with Nest, an organization dedicated to supporting artisans and preserving craft traditions around the world. Can you tell us about that experience and how it has shaped your understanding of the cultural and economic importance of handmade goods?

Nest works with craft artists around the world, connecting them to business education and opportunities—they are truly changing the world.  I’ve connected with people from around the country ensuring that their cultural traditions endure.  Providing small businesses with what they need to succeed, and connecting them to opportunities to sustain their craft makes our world a more beautiful place.  From handmade baskets on the shelves of Target to upcycled garments made from Southwest Airlines leather seats, to my bespoke cowboy boots, there is space for all of us, and the joy of surrounding yourself with beautiful handmade objects.

Q: You also had the opportunity for a mentorship with Hermès, one of the world's most celebrated luxury leather houses. What did that experience teach you about craftsmanship, precision, and the relationship between maker and material? How did it influence your own work?

The Hermes team are delightful and passionate about their work.  Hermes is one of the few independently owned luxury houses and their commitment to craftsmanship is unsurpassed.  People make everything we wear, but Hermes makes sure that consumers know about the hands who make that work and the dedication to become a master craftsman.  I was really surprised that through my experience, my takeaway was to tell the story about the physical work that I do.  It’s physically challenging--I’m often hammering, coaxing leather into a shape it resists, and reducing my tolerances, working harder to improve my craft with every pair I make.  I’m not sure that people have ever thought about how footwear is constructed, but cowboy boots have over 300 steps.  It’s not easy, but it fills my cup like nothing else.

Q: Cowboy boots occupy a unique place in American culture, combining function, fashion, and identity. As a Western history expert, what do you find most compelling about their history, and what do they reveal about the evolution of the American West?

I LOVE this question.  Cowboy boots are uniquely American, which is hard to say about almost anything.  Cowboy boots were invented in a tornado of activity in the North Texas-Oklahoma- Kansas corridor during the cattle drive days, about 150 years ago.  They are a melting pot of influence from German riding boots from the east, Mexican boots from the South, and cowboy dandies with a little jingle in their pocket at the end of the trail.  They are the perfect symbol of people seeking adventure or escape in creating something specific to place.  Boots have evolved to physically cooperate with place or respect cultural influences. Whether in the high heels of the Idaho Buckaroos who were influenced by California Vaquero culture. Or the loose, low heels of the coastal grasslands of my culture on the Coastal Bend of South Texas, or the Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders, or lots of things in between.

Q: Your leather goods are made to last a lifetime. In a culture increasingly defined by mass production and disposability, what does it mean to create something intended to be used, repaired, and passed down through generations?

In a culture of more is more, I think there’s nothing more luxurious than something that lasts.  You can have one bag, made from American leather from American cows, that’s a byproduct from American beef, completing the supply chain (and leather is even starting to be traceable), that will last through three, four, or five similar bags made of some sort of plastic, likely made with exploitative labor, that will fall apart, but never really goes away.  I think choosing to acquire objects that last means committing to long-lasting style choices, as well as making sure that leather is moisturized, and you can find someone to help with repairs.  I have handbags from both of my grandmas that I still use and all I have to do is occasionally condition them.  I hope that some of my boots will be repaired and passed on to the next generation to be enjoyed and remind the wearer of someone important to them.

Q: Your work was featured in SVMoA's Idaho Cowgirl Congress. How has living and working in Idaho shaped your identity as an artist and your relationship to Western culture?

I was delighted that SVMoA hosted the Idaho Cowgirl Congress and featured the work of some truly exceptional Idaho women.  I have to say that support from the Idaho Commission on the Arts and Steven Hatcher, has been key to gain the tools I needed to become a cowboy boot maker, especially supporting my first apprenticeship with Seth Teichert in MacKay.  Western culture, and ranching, to me, is about connection to the land.  Place supports our ability to raise cattle, or grow food.  Knowing the birds, plants, soil, and peaks brings it all together.  I moved to Idaho to fly-fish, and though I like to say that I now ranch trout and snow instead of cattle, understanding and appreciating our surroundings, is what makes me a Westerner, and is what makes my cowboy boots Western.  My very first day of work was going birding on Silver Creek Preserve, and the first bird I saw was a sand hill crane.  It was May, and I was used to the cranes arriving in November—a sure sign winter was on its way.  That bird connected my ancestral home with my chosen home and has been a connector for almost all my life now.  I even just made myself cowboy boots with sand hills to commemorate that deep connection.

Q: In your upcoming SVMoA workshop, participants will work with American-tanned Horween leather that has been rejected by large manufacturers. What makes this leather special, and how can its imperfections become part of the beauty and individuality of a finished piece?

As I mentioned earlier, Horween is one of the few American tanneries.  They’re in Chicago, have been operating since 1905, and complete the supply chain, using a byproduct to make superb, hearty leather that breaks in nicely and lasts forever.  Large buyers reject any imperfections because they don’t have the ability to pivot around them, but if I’m buying hides five or ten at a time, I can change my pattern, or move something around to avoid a brand or a tear, or even highlight them.  I am always thrilled when I buy a hide that has a brand still visible—that scarring connects me with a ranching family just like mine.  These one-offs mean that I also get to acquire some really special things not generally available to the public, like actual football leather, which has the absolute best texture.

Q: For someone who has never worked with leather, what can they expect from the workshop? What is most rewarding about teaching people to create something entirely by hand?

Creating something you made yourself is so special.  I love when I get a compliment and I can say “I made it myself!”  This class illustrates that you don’t need a lot of fancy tools or special equipment to make a luxury item, but the class is physically challenging—it can be hard on the hands, arms, and legs.  I love that this class opens up a world of opportunity to creating long-lasting accessories for yourself, or for gifts for friends and family.

The Museum has been busy this summer, with more than thirty programs happening inside our walls. But what you might not see is just how much the Museum is doing beyond them. This summer, our Museum Educators have been bringing art experiences to children, teens, and families throughout the Wood River Valley.

Through partnerships with SummerBridge Education Camp, The Hunger Coalition’s Bloom Lunch, Far + Wise, and The Space, we created nearly 800 opportunities for children and teens to engage with art this summer. Sometimes that meant bringing SVMoA out into the community. Other times, it meant welcoming young people into the Museum. Both matter.

Because when we talk about access to the arts, we're talking about more than access to art supplies or museum exhibitions.

We sat down with Dianne Sánchez, Director of Learning & Engagement, to discuss giving young people opportunities to be curious, make choices, take creative risks, solve problems, and express something that is entirely their own. And why all those things matter.

Why are community partnerships so important to SVMoA?

I think a museum should be part of its community, not just a place within it.

We have this wonderful physical space in Ketchum, but if we want people throughout the Wood River Valley to feel that SVMoA belongs to them, we also have to show up where they are.

And we're not doing that work alone. Our partners know their communities incredibly well. They bring relationships, trust, expertise, and spaces where people already feel comfortable. We bring art, artists, materials, and a willingness to try things together.

That exchange is what makes these partnerships work.

So what did that actually look like this summer?

Honestly, it looked different almost every week.

For nine weeks, we joined The Hunger Coalition's Bloom Lunch at locations throughout Blaine County, from Carey and Bellevue to Kiwanis Park in Hailey and the Hailey Public Library. More than 475 children participated in free art-making with us over the course of the summer.

With SummerBridge, we worked with approximately 275 students. Some came to SVMoA to explore our exhibitions. Other times, we went to them with art projects and conversations about what they were seeing, thinking, and making.

Then there were the 20 Far + Wise middle schoolers who spent three weeks exploring alternative photography. They built pinhole cameras out of oatmeal containers, and we turned our Hailey Classroom into a darkroom. There is something pretty fantastic about watching a kid realize that a Quaker Oats container can actually make a photograph.

And through The Space's Bilingual Scholars program, we worked with another 20 students, making art together throughout their program and ending with a celebratory walkthrough exhibition of their work.

What happens when you bring art into spaces like these?

Children engage.

That's one of the things I've seen again and again as an arts educator. Give a young person something interesting to make, a problem worth figuring out, and enough freedom to approach it in their own way, and you see a different kind of learning happen.

Art asks young people to make decisions. What happens if I try this? What do I want this to say? Why didn't that work? What could I do differently? There isn't always one correct answer, and that's important. Young people need places where experimentation isn't a detour from learning. It is the learning.

You see that socially, too. Put materials on a table and kids start looking at what everyone else is doing. They trade ideas. They teach each other. Someone who was hesitant five minutes ago is suddenly showing another child how they figured something out.

And art gives young people another language. Not every child is going to be the first to raise their hand or have the words to explain exactly what they're thinking or feeling. Making something gives them another way in.

That's the power of arts education for me. It tells young people that their ideas are worth exploring and that their perspective is worth sharing.

How does this connect to SVMoA's mission?

Our mission is to connect people to contemporary art and artists. But I don't think that connection has to start with the art already hanging on the wall.

It can start in a park. It can start over lunch. It can start with a six-year-old choosing a paint color or a middle schooler poking a tiny hole into an oatmeal container and wondering how on earth that is supposed to become a camera.

Those experiences build curiosity and confidence. They give young people a chance to see themselves as makers, thinkers, and creative people.

And then, when that same child walks into SVMoA, hopefully the Museum doesn't feel like a place they need permission to enter.

It feels like theirs, too.

What are you taking away from this summer?

I keep coming back to the importance of showing up.

Real community engagement takes time. You can't build a relationship with a community through one event, take a photo, and call it done. You come back. You listen. You remember people. You learn what works and what doesn't. And eventually, people start to know you, too.

The numbers are important. Nearly 800 arts experiences tell us something about the reach of this work. But they're not really what I remember at the end of the summer.

I remember the kids showing each other what they made. I remember the excitement of watching an image slowly appear in the darkroom. I remember families sitting down together at Bloom Lunch. I remember young people proudly walking us through an exhibition of their own work.

Those moments may look small, but they're doing something important. They're giving young people opportunities to imagine, experiment, communicate, and see themselves as people capable of creating something that wasn't there before.

That's why access to the arts matters.

Our community partners make those opportunities possible, and so do the people who support SVMoA and believe that arts education should be part of growing up in the Wood River Valley.

Every time we show up with a box of art supplies, welcome a student through the Museum doors, or turn an oatmeal container into a camera, we're reinforcing something I want every young person we work with to know:

Your ideas matter. Your creativity matters. And there is a place for you here.

What does it take to create a hand-tooled saddle, a pair of custom chaps, or the intricate leatherwork that has long defined Western craftsmanship? We sat down with Kari McCluey, one of Idaho’s master leatherworkers and a featured artist in Idaho Cowgirl Congress, a special pop-up exhibition opening next week at the Sun Valley Museum of Art. McCluey is among dozens of women artists, gearmakers, and traditional craftspeople from across the state gathering to share their skills, stories, and creative practices while celebrating, preserving, and reimagining the artistic traditions of the American West.

Known for her exceptional craftsmanship and vibrant, contemporary take on traditional leatherwork, McCluey creates everything from custom saddles and tack to wearable art and accessories. Her work is available through her business, 7 Devils Leather, and you can follow her on social media at @7devilsleather.

We caught up with Kari to learn how a self-made pair of chaps launched her career in leatherworking, what inspires the color and creativity that have become her signature, and what it means to be part of the community of artists and makers shaping the future of Western craft. Along the way, she shares the story behind her artwork for Idaho Cowgirl Congress and her perspective on what it means to be an Idaho cowgirl.

How did you first get started in leatherworking, and what drew you to the craft?

I have always been an artsy gal, and when I needed a pair of chaps, I decided to make my own. At the time, I worked at a saddle shop, so it wasn’t hard to do. I will say at the time, I was super proud of ol number 1's, and I still have them, they are hideous!!!! After that, I just kept on doing leather work for folks coming in the shop. 

You mentioned you are known for your chaps. What made you start creating / specializing in chaps?

As far as specializing in chaps, they are what I enjoy making the most so over time I just narrowed my focus. I still make tack on occasion but, chaps are my main focus. 

Much of Western gear has traditionally been functional and understated. What inspires you to bring color and whimsy into your work?

As I see it, functional doesn’t have to be understated. I pride myself on function and form, while seeing just how much fun I can bring to my pieces. Chaps should not only perform but, I believe they should reflect the wearer. That’s the inspiration. I have like a thousand crazy ideas floatin' around my head at any given moment, just waiting to get out. I suppose every time I make something, it's a chance to run with some of those ideas.  I also feel that everything I make, whether its chaps or a pencil drawing, it really is a piece of who I am. 

What do you hope people feel when they wear or experience one of your creations? 

I want them to be excited, to feel like the best version of themselves. 

What does it mean to you to be participating in the Idaho Cowgirl Congress alongside so many talented women artists and makers?

I love being part of the Idaho Cowgirl Congress. It means a lot to me to be part of a group with such neat ladies. I get a kick out of seeing everyone and it’s always a hoot.

You created the artwork for the Idaho Cowgirl Congress limited-edition poster and silk scarf. The artwork is filled with meaningful symbols and imagery. Can you walk us through the different elements and explain what they represent? Were there particular symbols, stories, or traditions you felt were important to include in the design, and why?

From the Appaloosa horse, to the cutthroat trout, mountain bluebird, monarch butterfly,  western white pine and syringa flowers, they all are part of our lovely Gem State, All things Idaho! Of course, I had to sneak a tater in there too, can you find it? Idaho is home, it’s part of what makes me who I am. I wanted to do something a little different than the typical stuff you see on a wild rag, and also speak to the qualities that make us gals of the Idaho Cowgirl Congress awesome. 

What advice would you give to young women interested in pursuing traditional crafts or Western art forms?

Do it!! I believe in following your passion. Strive to be the very best you can be in all things, and ALWAYS find your own unique style. 

From sketchbooks to skylines, Emily Nathanail brings a thoughtful, travel-inspired approach to perspective drawing that’s grounded in confidence and creative curiosity. Originally from the UK and now living between England and the US, Emily’s work is deeply influenced by place, its energy, architecture, and everyday details. Ahead of her Introduction to Perspective Drawing 2 Day Workshop at SVMoA on Wednesdays, March 11 and March 18, next month, we sat down with Emily to talk travel rituals, tea preferences, and how mastering perspective can unlock personal style.

Discover the inspirations, experiences, and ideas that shape Emily’s creative practice and teaching philosophy.

You’ve traveled from England to teach perspective drawing in Idaho, what’s one thing you always notice first when you arrive somewhere new?

Originally from the UK I now live between the UK and the USA. As a visual person I love to travel and often document my experiences through my sketchbook. The first thing I will notice is the energy, is it a fast paced city or calm and quiet. I then often look for things that inspire me, local architecture, colour palettes and the fashion.

If perspective drawing were a personality trait, how would you describe it, and why do you love teaching it?

Perspective drawing is all about finding your confidence and having a foundation with drawing. Once you have mastered that, your own style and personality can really come out of your illustrations.

Tea question (we have to): how do you take yours, and has living or traveling abroad ever challenged your tea standards?

Of course being British I’m used to a good cup of English breakfast tea. I take it with little milk, no sugar. However as I love to embrace travel I try the local customs in the place I visit. I’m very into matcha and experiment with different coffees depending on the country.

Was there a moment when perspective “clicked” for you as an artist, or was it a slow, beautiful unraveling of confusion?

I’ve been interested in art for as long as I can remember. I have always sketched and experimented with art throughout my education and then went onto study Fashion Design at the University of Creative Arts in London. As I have always naturally drawn my skills have grown and I have understood perspective as a foundation quite early on. However, finding personal style is forever evolving. I think as an artist it’s important to constantly try new things, push boundaries and find your unique style.

What’s one common mistake people make with perspective that you secretly love helping them overcome?

I think it’s quite easy to be overwhelmed by the details of a piece leading to the composition or perspective to be off. Having a foundation first can help overcome this so pushing boundaries can be intentional.

When you’re not drawing or teaching, what’s something that might surprise people about you?

My husband enjoys riding motorcycles and something we enjoy together is road tripping via motorcycle. We once spent 3 months traveling Greece on a motorcycle which I documented through my sketchbook. You can see this via my social media @emily_rosedesigns

If today’s workshop had a soundtrack, what kind of music would be playing—and why?

I would like the takeaway from the class for people to be inspired. Whether you already have drawing skills, or you are a complete beginner, I want the class to inspire people to enjoy art. I would want people to choose music that inspires them to be creative and let loose. For myself I enjoy live music and mainly British bands.

By the end of this workshop, what do you hope participants feel braver about in their drawing practice?

When I meet new people and tell them what I do, they often tell me they can’t draw but I’ve always felt that creative expression doesn’t have to be perfect. I want people to feel confident in any ability and just enjoy art as an outlet.

You do lots of buildings, do you explore landscape? And if so, is it different from drawing buildings?

I have always felt the most inspired by architecture. Spending most of my adult life in London, the history of architecture there has always been interesting to me. I honed most of my skills through drawing architecture. However, I have more recently translated my skills into landscapes, being inspired by the Mountain Town of Sun Valley. You can see these pieces and their development on my social media.

I also enjoy fashion illustration which is something I did during my university studies.

Your map of Ketchum, did you do this for fun? Or was it commissioned?

My map of Ketchum was commissioned by a client on my first ever trip to Sun Valley in 2016. However it has since evolved as I have gotten to know the area and added additional locations myself. I hope to continue adding to this so welcome recommendations!

And finally, I HAVE to ask, what’s your favourite spot to draw in Ketchum / Blaine County?

We have such a beautiful landscape here that I don’t have a specific spot! In the summer I enjoy to sit outside by the river and draw the mountains and I regularly find a spot outside a coffee shop in Ketchum to document fashion, most likely Maude’s!

***

Don't miss Emily's Introduction to Perspective Drawing 2-Day Workshop this Spring, Wednesday's March 11 and March 18.

Amy Nack is a Boise-based artist and printmaker whose practice centers on the expressive possibilities of hand-pulled prints and paper arts. She is the founder of Wingtip Press, a community printmaking studio dedicated to fostering collaboration, education, and the preservation of traditional print processes. With a background in both fine art and art education, Amy creates works that often explore the interplay between texture, pattern, and narrative, drawing inspiration from the natural world and the rhythms of daily life.

Amy sat down with us to discuss how she got into printmaking and what she will be teaching at her workshops coming up this weekend, September 12 and 13.

After a 3-decade career in paper and graphics marketing, what led you to a fine art renaissance in your career? Lots of people dream about this – but you actually did it!

I took a printmaking workshop in Italy the summer of 2024 and after returning to Boise, I wanted to take an Art History Class about the Italian Renaissance. After registering, I walked by the printmaking lab and peeked in. The instructor saw me, welcomed me in, and convinced me to show up the next day. I showed up the next day and left 4 years later.

You have a studio in Boise called Wingtip Press, can you tell us a little bit about it. Is it an open artist studio? Do you do custom printing? What kind of printing do you do?

I opened Wingtip with a partner in 2009 with the goal of making art and offering workshops. It started in my garage and then moved downtown. We did several community art projects, offered monotype, relief, and intaglio workshops, and brought in visiting artists. The shop was closed in 2021 due to COVID, but I soon discovered that making art and prepping for workshops on my dining table just couldn’t cut it. I am in the process now of outfitting a new studio and hope to commit to my own art making again. 

You have been a paper artist for many years now, and bring a long professional career to your artmaking. Having spent many decades working with paper, what inspires you about it – paper that is? About the printmaking process? You have a unique perspective on it.

My very first job was in the basement stockroom at F. W. Woolworths, making signs on a small spring-operated letter press. After college, I spent a few decades in the paper and packaging business and have seen paper being made industrially and by hand by Japanese artisans. I love paper’s resiliency, its texture, and most of all its willingness to receive a variety of marks from a broad array of tools to become a precious piece of art.  

I see that you are a teaching artist for the Idaho Commission of the Arts. That’s an amazing role. Can you share with us what excites you most about working teens and kids?

I love the energy and the willingness of teens and kids. The younger the student, the less likely they are to have developed their inner critics. I just need to silence mine.

I personally love printmaking but have found it’s the most secret and unsung of the art genres. Most people know about sculpture and painting, but less about printmaking. Share a little with us the magic of printmaking!

Printmaking requires a ritual of processes and tools that despite the ritual, there is mystery in the outcome once the paper is peeled from the block. I love process and I embrace that mystery and surprise.

Speaking of secrets, can you share with us exactly what Pochoir is and means! We are hosting the Teen Workshop - Pochoir Monotypes this Friday.

Pochoir means “stencil”  in France.  It was popular for making multi colored prints, particularly for fashion magazines and  advertisements.  In this class, we will be inking a large plate of plexi in one color and will be rolling ink on the paper stencils to create a multi colored print. Then we will flip those stencils and reposition them to produce a multi-colored, multi-layered print.  This is  always a favorite process of my Boise State Intro to Printmaking class.

Also, please explain drypoint printmaking to those who may not be familiar with the process. Do you have any favorite works of art that are drypoint?

Drypoint requires a sharp tool, like a needle to incise the surface of a plate of copper, zinc or plastic. We will be using a thin plexi plate to incise our image, which can be either representational or non-representation. Ink is forced into the incised lines and run through an etching press.  If the registered students have a particular image they would like to use  as a guideline, they can size it to 5 x 7 for our class.  

There are too many to name, But I  do love Whistler’s drypoint, Mary Cassatt and of course, Rembrandt. Cy Twombly, whose work is non-represenational is also one of my favorites.

This week, Sun Valley Museum of Art is pleased to present Idaho Rivers / Idaho Artists, a juried exhibition, to the public September 12-28, 2024. The exhibition is the result of SVMoA's open call to Idaho artists for work engaging with Idaho rivers. Katie Lee-Koven, Executive Director and Chief Curator for the Nora Eccles Harrison Museum at Utah State University, juried the show, selecting artwork by thirty-three Idaho artists from over 150 submissions. The artwork comprises a range of media and styles, reflecting Idahoans’ diverse experiences of riverscapes as sites of leisure and labor, contemplation and community. The artists included in the exhibition hail from diverse regions and cities across Idaho, spanning from Boise to Burley and Mackay to Moscow.

Running more than 100,000 miles, Idaho’s rivers shape our landscapes, lives, and culture. For this week's SVMoA Voices, we asked five of the artists featured in the exhibition five questions with the rivers of Idaho as their muse. Here is what they had to say.

AARON CORDELL JOHNSON

How do Idaho rivers shape your landscape?

Living on the Idaho Palouse our rivers are small and often seasonal. As a plein air painter, the rivers either full or dry provide visual variety to the landscape and endless inspiration. 

What is your favorite spot on the river? Which river?

My favorite spot on the South Fork of the Palouse River is a small pull out on Sand Road South West of Moscow at sunset. 

What is your favorite sound on or off the river?

I love the sounds of life, birds, animals, wind, or the endless rapid.

How do the rivers of Idaho support and inspire your artistic practice? 

Living in North Idaho I am continually inspired by my surroundings. As I search for what it means to experience a 'place' often rivers have and continue to influence the landscape and my experience of those surroundings.  Rivers are givers of life, and their continual flow inspires me to continue in my efforts. The Snake and Salmon River to my south, the Clark Fork to my North and the wildness of the Lochsa and Selway rivers like their waters provide everflowing inspiration. 

If you were a river, who would be your best friend?

Hmmm... If I were a river, I would hope that mankind would be my best friend. 

BEX WILKINSON

How do Idaho rivers shape your landscape?

Idaho rivers give me a respite from the craziness of the world. They are places I go to paint and regroup in the calmness of the tone of the water. Howard Preserve, Draper and a small spot on the Big Wood River off Broadford Road are some of my favorite spots, but I definitely frequent Redfish Lake and Galena Lodge for plein-air painting as well. Plus my dogs love it! 

What is your favorite spot on the river? Which river?

My very favorite spot is the bend in the river off Broadford Road. It is on the way to my studio and I frequently go there to paint. It is always changing. It is never the same. Sometimes people are fishing there, or playing in the water. It is a happy place for all...

What is your favorite sound on or off the river?

Almost every morning I walk my dogs at Draper Preserve in Hailey. The rush of the river as you cross the Bow Bridge is literally like heaven. It is calm and helps me start my day in a sort of meditative space. I frequently will go there at the end of the day to have river "book ends" to the start and finish of the day. 

How do the rivers of Idaho support and inspire your artistic practice? 

Oh gosh, I paint at the rivers at least once a week. I call the pieces I do "Lil' Ditties" and I usually give these away as gifts. They are small- no larger than 10 inches, and sometimes just a few inches high. People love to receive them as gifts. Who doesn't like a little reminder of the beauty of life? I currently have 4 at the hospital - a healing place, and 7 up at Triangle C Lodge owned by Redfish Lake. It is a far cry from the other work that I do, so I need to do it consistently to keep up my technique and also to calm my brain.

If you were a river, who would be your best friend?

The moose that my dogs chase in the fall down the river! YIKES! They are so large and majestic. (That's when the shock collar comes out!) But I know it is Fall when the moose return to the river. Sometimes they wander down the river in the spring as well... in any case, it's the clock of nature saying we are entering a new season. 

DEVIN FARRAND

How do Idaho rivers shape your landscape?

Living in the high desert of the Pioneer Mountains, rivers connect the high peaks with the valleys below. They shape and erode the landscape bringing snowmelt, trees, fish and other wildlife to the region. 

What is your favorite spot on the river? Which river?

I have a favorite spot on the river about 8 minutes from my house and studio. It's on the East Fork of the Big Lost River, there is a section that dips down far away from the road and against a talus slope. In late September around 7pm when I look upstream, I see whitewater cascading over rocks and around a beaver lodge, while downstream, the sunlight dances on the rippling surface, transforming the water into shimmering gold.

What is your favorite sound on or off the river?

The sound of a fish rising

How do the rivers of Idaho support and inspire your artistic practice?

The rivers of Idaho deeply influence my artistic practice, I find a sense of stability and grounded-ness in the constant pushing of the current. Fly fishing in rivers like the Big Lost helps me reset and refocus, providing both mental clarity and creative inspiration through its sheer beauty. I’m often directly inspired by its beauty and use imagery taken from the landscape around me in my work. 

If you were a river, who would be your best friend?

Warm days and cool nights

JOSH UDESEN

How do Idaho rivers shape your landscape?

If I am not on a river, I am thinking about rivers. Rivers shape much of what I consider joy in my life because the vast majority of things I love to do are connected to rivers. The anticipation of what they provide, the experience of being on or near them and the memories rivers build are, in many ways, what defines me. 

What is your favorite spot on the river? Which river?

My favorite spot on the river is just a few feet from the boat launch. Any river, anywhere, the moment I push off from shore there is an awareness I am headed down river and there is always a smile on my face. Be it a day float or a week on the river, the anticipation, the joy, the flow, the erasing of time, the building of memories and all the reasons I love rivers are about to begin. 

What is your favorite sound on or off the river?

The best sounds are balanced between quiet peace and a little bit of chaos. I love the murmur of the current when you are about to fall asleep next to a river but I also love the anticipation caused by the increasing roar of a rapid as you approach it from above. 

How do the rivers of Idaho support and inspire your artistic practice?

The vast majority of my art is inspired by rivers, and most are derived from experiences on Idaho rivers. Be it the fish that swim in them, the mountains and canyons they cut, or the water they are made of, it is hard to find a piece of art I create that is not, in some ways, inspired by rivers. Ask anyone who knows me, any time I drive across a bridge that spans a river, I am likely to slow down, crane my neck, and look upstream and downstream because I cannot help myself, I am always curious what the river is doing.

If you were a river, who would be your best friend?

The salmon and steelhead, of course. Nothing better than seeing a good friend after a long absence. Every year I would know, without a doubt, they will be back and there is both anticipation and reverence for such a bond. 

KIKA MACFARLANE

How do Idaho rivers shape your landscape?

Idaho rivers are a huge part of my life, I live very close to the Bigwood and visit it everyday to swim, fish, or just seek a moment of solitude. I’m also lucky enough to have taken a trip down the Salmon River every year for the last seven years, and this year led an art trip on the Main stem of the Salmon.

What is your favorite spot on the river?

My favorite spot on the Salmon River is Groundhog camp - the light lingers on the opposite hill for a long time, lighting up the trees with a soft orange glow. The river makes a sharp turn there, and the beach and eddy right at camp feel like a hidden paradise, tucked away.

What is your favorite sound on or off the river?

My favorite sound is the canyon wren singing, it echoes through the riverbed and feels like the soundtrack of the river to me.

How do the rivers of Idaho support and inspire your artistic practice?

The Salmon River and Bigwood rejuvenate me, inspire me, and remind me of the wildest parts of myself. Simply being near their moving water grounds me, but I always find something new I want to illustrate or capture in my work when I spend time on the river.

If you were a river, who would be your best friend?

My best friend would be the river otters! They play with me, protect me, and provide joy to my life. 

Idaho Rivers / Idaho Artists, a juried exhibition. September 13 - September 28, 2024

Born in Mexico, raised in California, and currently based in New York City and New Jersey, Maria de Los Angeles explores migration, belonging, and identity through her art.

This August, in partnership with SVMoA, Maria is hosting teen, family and community workshops at SVMoA’s Hailey Classroom and the Hunger Coalition in preparation for a group exhibition at SVMoA summer 2025. She will also be speaking at The Museum about her work.

We sat down with Maria to discuss her art and artistic collaboration with our community.

Can you tell us a little bit about the project you are working on that you will be showing in the Summer of 2025 at SVMoA.

I will exhibit a few paintings, watercolors, and a brand-new identity garment made with components created by community members during the upcoming workshops at SVMoA in August. The dress is in progress, and I started it during our last visit to Sun Valley this past winter.

The dress that I am making is part of what I call identity garments, they are mixed media and three-dimensional. They include painting, printmaking, collage with hand painted elements as well as embroidery. They are wearable and the one I am currently working on is quite large, almost seven feet. Most of the components include upcycled fabrics and fragments I have found. This is the first time people will be adding to the garment and the project.

Most of my work has some aspect of community involvement. However, this is the first time people are making something embedded into my work.

You will be hosting three different community and teen workshops; can you tell us what you are planning for the workshops?

The dress workshops will result in the creation of patches to be added to my final sculpture. The Identity Upcycled Hoodie workshop, in collaboration with Ryan Bonilla, will allow participants to customize a clothing item and take it home with them. I invite the Sun Valley Museum's community to visit the website to see which they want to attend. 

How do fabric arts and clothing figure into your work? How did you get into clothing as sculpture?

I'm inspired by traditions that incorporate the garment and clothing as a way of projecting identity. I grew up seeing my mom create embroideries and other textile pieces, which was influential to me. My first step into textiles was collage which quickly grew into 3D forms and logically into wearables.

After completing my graduate school studies at Yale in painting and printmaking, I began experimenting with what I call identity garments which were more performative and playful, and enabled me to expand the two-dimensional work of painting and printmaking into three dimensions.

You are traveling here to Idaho with your partner Ryan Bonilla and you will be co-presenting a few workshops together, specifically the Upcycled Hoodies Workshop for Teens. How do you collaborate and work together?

Ryan Bonilla and I travel all over the USA, exhibiting together and collaborating with various institutions. We each make our own work and exhibit together sometimes. Ryan is primarily a photographer, and I'm a painter.

He collaborates with me by capturing incredible images of me wearing my sculptures. Ryan also captures the places and people we see during our trips. We are very excited about both our upcoming exhibitions at the Sun Valley Museum of Art next year. 

Is there anything else you would like to share before your community workshops?

I heard there are a lot of quilters in the area. I would like to let the quilters know they are invited!

Curator Courtney Gilbert sat down with longtime SVMoA supporters, former board members, and arts patrons Pete & Becky Smith to talk about their early involvement with the Museum, their love of art, and their work with organizations across the valley. As our team gears up for our annual fundraiser, the Sun Valley Museum of Art Wine Auction, now in its 43rd year, we celebrate the early days of the organization, the first wine auction, as well as how the Museum came to be at its current location at 5th and Washington with our dear supporters Pete and Becky Smith.

CG: How did you first get involved with the Sun Valley Center for the Arts (SVCA - now Sun Valley Museum of Art)?

Becky: I first connected with the Center in the summer of 1974. I took [our children] down to the Sun Valley Center for the Arts for classes in macrame and all the crafty things that were taught then—throwing pots. Very 1970s! The Center was still at its original location then, where the Community School is now.

CG: What year did you move here full-time?

Becky: My parents first brought me here in 1951 or 52. We bought a house in Sun Valley around 1986 and moved here full-time in 1987.

CG: And when were you each on the board?

Becky: We both were on the board at the same time, together. Michael Engl knew about our activities in Los Angeles. At that time, we were on the Collectors Committee at the National Gallery of Art. We were on the Director’s Roundtable at LACMA, and Rusty Powell (then Director of LACMA), when he went from LACMA to the National Gallery, he took that idea with him. The Director’s Roundtable was a group of younger collectors.

Pete: We joined the board here in 1988 or 1989, when SVCA had just moved to the Walnut Avenue Mall and had sold the original property to the Community School.   

I can’t remember if Michael asked us personally, but I think he was president of the board then. He had built a large endowment for the Center, which came into play shortly after we joined the board. The gallery and the office were in the Walnut Avenue Mall. The owner of the Walnut Avenue Mall raised the rent on all the tenants. Mike Feltman, the CPA, was treasurer of the board. Joan Stewart Anawalt was on the board then, and she asked me to co-chair the board with her and divide our duties. It was a terrific partnership.  

Pete: There was a high level of respect among the three of us. And at that point, Michael Feltman let me know that Bob Smith had sold Smith Optics to John Malin. John built a building for Smith in the Industrial Area, and vacated the building on 5th St. It was empty. Mike Feltman suggested we buy the old Smith building. So, he and I went and looked at it, without any architects or anything, and we thought it could be a gallery space if we removed all the cubicles, which were non-structural. I called Wes Nash—he and I had built a home and worked on some other projects. Wes came to the building and gave us an idea of what it would cost to open the center space, put in lighting, create a meeting room, build offices on the perimeter, and add a classroom with sinks. He checked the substructure. And told us that it would cost something like $40,000. Mike Feltman suggested we use some of the endowment money, so we went to Michael Engl and asked what he thought about drawing down on the endowment to buy the building, and then pay a monthly rent back into the endowment. Bob Smith agreed to let us buy it for less than he was asking. So there went the endowment put into the building. And we had no money for a remodel. But we pulled together a group of donors, mainly friends of Glenn and Bill Janss, and named the building the Janss Building. Glenn thought this was a terrific idea. Wes Nash made his donation by giving us a low price on the remodel. Jim and Jean Welsh were finishing a remodel and had a lighting expert coming. Jim asked him to help us design the lighting for the new space. He told us where to put the lighting tracks along the ceiling.

Becky Smith at a dinner celebrating the new home for the Sun Valley Center for the Arts at 191 Fifth Street, E. in 1994.

CG: And we have stuck with basically the same lighting layout even with our remodel.

Pete: Yes. And so, we went out to friends, mostly of Bill Janss, and raised close to $100,000. And we were then on a footing to continue the Sun Valley Center. And you have to give credit to Michael Engl, because he created the endowment, and we were able to use it and pay it back. Michael was instrumental in making this all happen. Staff, generally speaking at the time, wanted a larger space. But Mike Feltman, Joan and I sat down with the staff and explained that we’d start with this space and later, go grand. And here we are 30 years later! It’s served its purpose. But I can’t say we thought it would be in use 30 years later. But what you’ve just finished doing to the building with the remodel—the galleries look really great.

Pete Smith at a dinner celebrating the new home for the Sun Valley Center for the Arts at 191 Fifth Street, E. in 1994.

CG: Anything else you’d like to share about your time with the Center?

Becky: We got very involved with the Wine Auction. It started at Jack Thornton’s house.

Pete: And then it moved to the Gun Club.

Becky: It was a lot of fun. And when Jim Cimino first put his paddle up, that changed everything. We started having bidding wars.

CG: You two have an amazing collection of art. What are some of your favorite things you’ve collected?

Pete: We bought a lot of things from John Berggruen, who was a good friend.

Becky: Our Frank Stella Protractor piece, of course, we love.

Pete: We’ve had encounters with Frank Stella over the years.

CG: Didn’t you set up a tennis game for him here on a visit to Sun Valley once?

Becky: Oh yes. I did.

Pete: We knew Marcia Weisman, Norton Simon’s sister, who taught classes in Pasadena on collecting. She and her husband had an extraordinary collection. Her classes consisted of traveling to artist studios in Venice Beach and other places, and to galleries that represented these artists.

Becky: We took her classes. This is mid- to late 70s.

CG: Who were some of the artists you visited with?

Becky: Billy Al Bengston was our first purchase. We knew him. And we loved Kenny Price.

Pete: Dwayne Valentine. His son Nelson. Chuck Arnoldi. Ed Ruscha. Sam Francis.

Becky: A lot of the fun of collecting in those days was that you knew the artists. I was never thinking about growth in value. We never bought anything because we thought it would make money later. We bought art because we fell in love with it.

Becky: John Coplans gave classes at the Pasadena Art Museum. The exposure was great. I met Frank Stella when he was signing the Star of Persia prints. We had work by Vija Celmins and Judy Chicago.

Pete: We went to Sam Francis’s studio once and everything was on the floor. He painted on the floor. Jim Corcoran was a good friend. Sam Francis gave Jim Corcoran and us access to his studio when he wasn’t there one time. We went in with Jim and chose a painting we wanted to buy. Nick Wilder, the gallery owner, had also been in the studio and wanted the same painting before us. Sam told Nick that we wanted it, and Nick told Jim, “If it’s Becky and Pete, I want them to have the painting. But would you pick another one out for me?”

Becky: I was already collecting when I met Pete, and when he and I first started dating, he fell in love with art. And Pete’s eye was just dead on. So, we carried on together. It’s been a great adventure.

Pete: There was a time when we had Peter Alexander, Ed Ruscha, and Chuck Arnoldi up here. They wanted to go skiing, and they all thought they knew what they were doing. Jim Corcoran was involved in getting them here. So, we got their skis at the bottom and got up to the top, and Peter Alexander said, “What do I do now?” Literally! We had to ship him down somehow. He didn’t know a thing about it. He assumed if we knew how, he could do it.

CG: I know you two have done a lot of work for so many organizations in the valley. What are some other boards you’ve served on?

Becky: Both of us have been on the Community School board at different times. I was on the St. Luke’s Hospital Foundation board, and Pete is now the president. And is doing a sensational job. And he was on the SVSEF board.

Pete: I was also on the Nature Conservancy board. Glenn Janss was, too. Bill Janss helped put together the local chapter of the Nature Conservancy when he sold the Stalker Creek Ranch to them. We had our meetings in the living room of Hemingway House.

CG: I’d love to hear about your work to get public radio to the valley.

Becky: That was Ken and Judy Dayton.

Pete: Gretchen Guard was here, and her mission was to bring another radio station to the valley. We only had KECH at the time. Chuck Gates was running KECH, which was located where Vintage restaurant is now. He was the DJ. Gretchen had run into problems getting it done. Somehow Bill Janss heard, and Ken Dayton was here and was on the board of Minnesota Public Broadcasting at the time. Ken brought Bill Kling, founder and president of Minnesota Public Radio out here. Bill said we could put a 10’ diameter dish somewhere and then we can have the equipment in a closet near the dish. The Community School went along with hosting the dish. Page Jenner was involved; he was in communications and knew how to get it hooked up.

Bill Janss hosted a dinner. There were 10 couples there, including us. Ken Dayton got up and said the project would cost $20,000. He’d put in $10,000, and he told us we were all to put in $1000. Page Jenner was instrumental in getting it set up. We had limited coverage, but it was a start.

When AT&T came in and wanted to put a cell tower on Dollar Mountain, Wally Huffman knew we needed better reception. He cleared it with the Holdings and asked AT&T to provide the hookups for a stronger signal when they installed the tower. We were able to remove the dish at the Community School, and that was the first step in better reception. Subsequently, we relocated to Seattle Ridge or the top of Baldy. But it was Ken and Judy Dayton who got the project started.

Becky: And the Dayton Collection is now in an exhibition at the Walker Art Center in Minneapolis. They were wonderful people.

CG: This has been so wonderful! I wanted to talk to you about your history racing cars, too, but we’ll have to save that for another time.

Pete: That was another life!

Becky: That would be so fun. We’ll do that next time.

CG: Thank you both!  
 

SVMoA’s current exhibition, Bodies of Work: Art & Healing, explores ways that artists have used their practices to navigate the experience of illness. This is the final week of the exhibition, which will close on Saturday, March 23.

Because of the exhibition’s focus on healing, for this week’s SVMoA Voices, SVMoA and Bodies of Work curator Courtney Gilbert sat down with Erin Buell, Community Outreach Coordinator at St. Luke’s Center for Community Health, to talk about the work she and her colleagues do to come up with creative solutions for people in our community facing healthcare challenges.

Tell me a little bit about the Center for Community Health (CCH).

The CCH is a department of St. Luke’s Wood River, and it was established about 30 years ago — it was kind of a pioneer in the field of community health at the time. I’ve been here for nearly 20 years, and it is constantly evolving and improving. We work to connect the dots of a person’s health so that one is able to understand their diagnosis and have support to follow instructions regarding their health and medications once they leave the clinic or the hospital. This way, individuals in our community are better able to get — and stay — healthy.

We are a non-clinical department, and our services are free. Sometimes, we help people facing financial challenges, and sometimes, we help with mental or physical health situations. Health can mean many things, and there are many things that we can do to try to help.

A lot of what we do takes time, so we try to hold our clients’ hands through the process. For example, applications and paperwork can be overwhelming, particularly for people facing a medical or other crisis, but that form or application may be important to receive assistance. So, we meet people where they are and help them get through the process.

We also provide community education, such as English and Spanish-language childbirth and parenting classes. Over the years, more organizations have come to our community, so we work hard to understand the work and the programs and classes that other local nonprofits and agencies are doing so that we can support and refer to them.  

Six times a year, we organize an interagency meeting that’s open to any organization. Currently, more than 70 organizations are invited to participate. To mention a few who often attend are the Hunger Coalition, The Advocates, local libraries, Mountain Rides, the Idaho Department of Health & Welfare, the Salvation Army, Hospice, the Senior Connection, YMCA, Blaine County Housing Authority, Blaine County Charitable Fund, and the social workers in the school district. Everyone shares a bit about what they’re doing, what they’re seeing in the community, and what they have coming up on their calendars. It’s kind of amazing how many resources there are in the valley.

St. Luke's Center for Community Health Team

How many people work in the CCH?

Right now, we have three outreach coordinators, including myself, an administrative staff member, and our manager. Two of my colleagues are Spanish-speaking, which is really beneficial.

How do clients find you?

We used to be in offices that were separate from the clinic. I think that because they didn’t see us, it was easy for clinical staff to forget we were a resource. Now that our offices are in the St. Luke’s Clinic, doctors often send patients directly to us. And we get referrals from other community organizations, such as those who attend the interagency meetings.

What is a typical day like for you?

We usually have about 60 contacts a day between the three outreach coordinators. Those can take anywhere from 5 minutes to 45 minutes or longer. We’ve been busy and are getting busier. Demand is growing. A typical encounter starts by evaluating where people are in terms of the social determinants of health, food, clothing, housing, and access to care. Once we determine what services a client needs, we’ll start making a plan. Sometimes, we connect patients to funding sources — some with applications, some without. We try to problem solve and make the process as easy and sustainable as possible for people. For example, we might be able to cover the cost of someone’s prescriptions, but if it’s a medication they’ll need for a long time, we help find a long-term solution.

Our goal is to help people access health and stay as healthy as possible. I’m really proud of our team. There’s so much compassion. We try to break down barriers to access from the beginning and create a safe space. For people in crisis, the world can feel like a snow globe. There are lots of snowflakes flying around and making it hard to see — it’s messy. We help people grab onto one flake of snow to get started while letting everything else settle for a while.

Do you have any thoughts about the relationship between health and creativity?

I believe the arts are very much intertwined with our health, particularly our mental health and sense of well-being. They are completely connected.

Me, too! Thanks so much for sharing your time with me.

This week, we sat down with artist Heather Watkins, whose work is in our current exhibition, Bodies of Work: Art & Healing, to discuss her art and artistic practice as a reflection of her personal journey. An artist working in many media, including drawing, sculpture, printmaking, and artist’s books, Heather makes work that is an expression of time, flow, circulation, stasis, and gravity.   

On Saturday, March 9, at SVMoA, Heather Watkins will join fellow artist Katherine Shaughnessy and author Sarah Sentilles in a conversation about their artistic processes and the ways that making art has helped them navigate their personal experiences with illness.

Can you tell us about your background and upbringing?

I was raised in Northern California in a small town in the Sierra Foothills, east of the Bay Area, not too far from Yosemite. It’s known as Gold Country, where prospectors came west to seek fortune (and claim land that wasn’t theirs) in the late 1800s. There was a strong literary presence as well, with figures like Mark Twain and Bret Harte and Jack London. Twain famously wrote his first short story set in the region about the idiosyncratic frog jumping in "The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras County.” I think the bigger and more lasting impact on me growing up in this area was developing a close relationship to nature. Hours and hours playing in the woods and creeks, surrounded by oak, pine, manzanita, the reddish-orange earth, pocked with granite and quartz.

I had the opportunity to spend time in other places through my adolescence, where I came to know different landscapes. I went to high school in New England and spent summers in the Pacific Northwest. At Pitzer College (in Claremont, California) I earned a bachelor’s degrees in English and World Literature and Classical Studies (with an emphasis on Art & Archaeology). I moved to Portland after college, and found a community in the arts, working and studying at the beloved (now unfortunately closed) Oregon College of Art & Craft. I returned to New England to study at the Rhode Island School of Design, where I received an MFA in 2000, and eventually made my way back to Portland, where I live and work now.

It’s interesting that your work fills an entire gallery in our current exhibition Bodies of Work: Art & Healing. It completely surrounds the viewer:  

I had a week-long residency with SVMoA in August of 2023. Curator Courtney Gilbert and I spent time considering the Museum spaces, talking about various possibilities, and how my work would feel in the space. It became clear to both of us that a series titled Recordings would be central, and I liked the idea of giving them a room of their own within the Museum.  

I first exhibited most of these works at PDX CONTEMPORARY ART in 2018 in an exhibition called “Waiting Room.” Although they can certainly be described as textiles or embroideries, I think of them as drawings. I don’t think of myself as a textile or fiber artist—needlepoint is not a craft that I am trained in. These thread-drawings began as a way to materialize and maybe account for a period of time when I couldn’t be in the studio much, when I was spending more time as a patient than anything else. Lots of waiting. This body of work involves a close/intimate engagement with the tools and materials: linen cloth, embroidery hoop, needle, thread, scissors. It’s a slow meditative process of translating the feeling of time—particularly the experience of waiting—into something one can sense. I think they benefit from a space that is quiet, where you can be alone with them.  

Gallery Group image of Recordings & SVMOA

Needlepoint is craft typically associated with women. How did you come to needlepoint as your medium?

Both of my grandmothers did needlecraft. Making things with fiber and fabric was just part of what they did with their hands, with their time. And it’s also how they cared for the people they loved.  

My father’s mother was a knitter. She would knit mittens and hats for all the grandchildren, and when we were small, she made sweaters with zippers with little bells on them. She lived in Minnesota, and during our visits, she taught me how to knit.  

My maternal grandmother lived across the street from us when I was growing up and she was a really gifted seamstress. She sewed for the entire family. She would create sets of pajamas for all the grandkids for Christmas—each family got their own print and fabric, and we’d take pictures of us all lined up in our matching outfits. She did needlepoint and embroidery as well. I remember a quilt project we started together. We cut a stack of little gingham squares, and she handed me a needle and thread and said to just stitch whatever design I wanted on them. All of her sewing supplies went to my parents’ house when she died, and I still look through them when I’m there.  

I think part of why I started working with thread as a drawing material is rooted in these early experiences watching the women in my family make something by hand, all that care and all that time.

So, thread is just another medium for expression. Can you talk about your relationship to your materials, how you choose or find the materials you use?   

A: My work in other media—ink, paper, cotton cording, wire—is very gestural and process-oriented. I think a lot about what a material does naturally, what its gestural language is, and what it might help me see or say. There’s a lot of experimentation as I develop an almost collaborative relationship with those materials, a give and take. My work with thread has become a more mediative, grounding, and deliberate part of my practice. The Waiting Room Recordings were like a sketchbook, little abstracted notations that refer to various influences and obsessions. They were made with sewing thread (not embroidery floss), some from my grandmother’s supplies. The thin size of the thread almost matches the gauge of the weave of the linen—they feel like weavings. I left the indentations of the embroidery hoop visible as a reminder of the process, evidence of one of the tools used to make the work.  

Heather Watkins Studio

In the larger works (Soundings), I use a silk thread that is flat, a bit like a skinny ribbon. It feels almost like working with a nibbed pen. The first part of the Soundings series is part of the Vanport Collection at Portland State University and was commissioned by for a specific site: the waiting room in the School of Counseling and Psychology—I love that connection to the earlier series that inspired the commission. For this exhibition at the Sun Valley Museum of Art, I created another suite of Soundings, which relate to the first five formally, a little like an echo of each of them.  

Image of Soundings

How has your medical journey impacted your artistic process?

My health journey began in 2008 when I was diagnosed with a brain tumor. It was a total surprise. I had a delayed doctor’s appointment, and the nurse offered to do an eye exam to fill the time. I always had excellent eyesight, but I couldn’t read the bottom line of the eye chart. I figured it was just aging, but followed up with an optometrist, who sent me on to an ophthalmologist to get a full workup and within three weeks I was having brain surgery; a sudden, life-changing turn of events.  

Before I learned I had a brain tumor, I had begun making these drawings by pouring black ink on black paper, then bending, tilting, holding, turning the paper—mapping my body’s movement. It was a way to explore flow and circulation—playing with being in and out of control of the line. When I returned to the studio after my surgeries and treatments, I was struck by how many of these drawings looked like some of the diagnostic images the doctors had shown me of what was going on inside my body. The strange, uncanny sense that I was drawn to make these things that later looked so prescient was wild. It’s why I love working in such an open-ended way, to make space for unforeseen, unexpected, surprising things to happen.  

Image of Surfacing 16

Can you discuss your project with Sarah Sentilles?  

When Sarah Sentilles was living in Portland, she would occasionally come to my studio to work on writing or editing while I was working on my artwork. During this time, I was halfway through making what would become the Waiting Room exhibition, although I didn’t have the title for that work at that time. We were talking about the question of naming works, and I remember Sarah saying that if she were writing an essay about it, she would call it “Body of Work.” So that idea took hold, and now, many years later, it’s happening. Sarah has written a beautiful, deeply moving essay in response to my Waiting Room project.  

We started the process with an email exchange, a kind of call and response—very experimental in terms of form and length, exchanging personal stories, creative influences, things we were reading and thinking about, associations and connections related to themes of waiting, thread and cloth, fronts and backs of things, seeking and finding meaning. Sarah’s writing is both intimate and personal and at the same time addresses what’s going on formally and conceptually in my work. I am thrilled and honored to have this opportunity. The essay will be published in an artist’s book I am creating, alongside images of my Waiting Room Recordings, as well as images of the Versos, or backs of the Recordings. It has been an absolute joy to collaborate with Sarah on this project, and I am truly grateful to Sarah, Courtney, and SVMoA for supporting this project.  

Copies of Sarah Sentilles and Heather Watkins's collaborative project will be available soon at SVMoA.