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Writing on Stone Provincial Park

October 21st, 2015

Writing on Stone Provincial Park

Destination: Writing on Stone Provincial Park, Alberta - Canada

Quite a long time ago I had heard about a place near the Montana border called Little Jerusalem. It was said to be a coulee that contained one of my favored subjects - Hoodoos also known as Cap Rock. These rock formations are formed of sandstone shaped by various weather conditions. Found in many places on the plains of the Northwest, but often inaccessible. The Little Jerusalem rock formations near Sweetgrass Montana is such a place. I had forgotten that you needed to gain some permission to access the backcountry and missed seeing them.

Somehow I managed to find out about a place just across the border from Sweetgrass, near the town of Milk River in Alberta, Canada. It was here I set my sights upon for a quick weekend road trip. Spur of the moment road trips can often reap huge rewards if one is open to them. Follow along this trip with the photos in my Road Trip Gallery.

Photo 1: Daybreak - I didn't get quite an early enough start to my morning and as I followed along the Middle Fork of the Flathead, heading toward the sunrise, I kept looking for a place to pull over and capture the sunrise. It's a winding road and I'm not overly familiar with it. The sky started to get very red in far distance. I wanted so bad to stop in the middle of the road but knew that was unwise. Finally I found a spot near Cascadilla Creek to pull over and get into the open along the river. The sky still showed some red under the cloud cover and had me oowing and ahhing.

Photo 2 - River reflections was in the same area as Daybreak only facing the other direction after the sun rose. Autumn has almost ended and the leaves have fallen, but some still hold out for the next big wind.

Photo 3 - East Glacier along highway 2 is a small village area and is where Glacier National Park meets the plains of the northwest in Montana. This little structure caught my eye for all it's broken down character, interior and exterior, so evident.

Photo 4 - I've never spent much time on the Hi-Line, or the portion of Highway 2 that runs east and west across the northern half of Montana. There are towns along the route that have been there for years, most of which I have yet to visit. I skirted the highway and went through the town of Cut Bank where I glanced over by the local fire department and saw an old fire engine. The door had written on it "East Glacier No. 4, Volunteer Fire Department". I loved all the old gauges and the fire hydrant it is parked by so of course had to capture it. I decided to present it with selective color of the truck and hydrant.

Photo 5 - As soon as you leave Cut Bank there is a large wind farm to the east. Glacier Wind 1 and Glacier Wind 2 are wind farms providing power to over 50,000 homes. They are amazing to just listen to the sound of the blades turning. They don't move that fast but you can still hear it. The old homestead I photographed is done in black and white to give a feeling of the old and new contrasts together.

Photo 6 - Heading north out of Shelby Montana you'll come to a little town off the highway called Sunburst. Such a big name for a little town. There are a few rocking horses (oil rigs) along the highway in these parts, but otherwise just fields of grain. Sunburst population is just over 300. The wonderful grain elevator is a focal point in the town.

Photo 7 - Finally arrived at my destination of Writing on Stone Provincial Park. Considered a sacred landscape that has a spiritual significance to the Blackfoot people who have hunted and travelled the Great Plains. I was surprised by this sign at the entrance. I wondered if I would see dozens of snakes moving across the road at different points. Alas, I saw none.

Photo 8 - 11 - Hoodoos. I'm always fascinated by what weather does to stone, especially sandstone. Surreal landscapes develop in places where winds are extreme and temperature fluctuate to the max. Hoodoo or Cap stones are formed in this manner. The environment of these places are very fragile and yet people disrespect the land by defacing it with their initials or other graffiti. I carefully traversed the area being careful to keep an eye out for snakes.

Photo 12 - Evening on the Plains was so beautiful I had to capture the sky. The night was warm for early October. Unfortunately the winds picked up blowing continuously all night at a steady 40-60 mph. My tent held down by my own body weight stayed put but I didn't get much sleep.

Photo 13 - Sunrise on the Milk River in golden light tones. The Milk river is a tributary of the Missouri River and runs 729 miles long in the U.S. and Alberta. It ends just east of Fort Peck, Montana. Given its name by Captain Meriwether Lewis who described the river in his journal: "the water of this river possesses a peculiar whiteness, being about the colour of a cup of tea with the admixture of a tablespoonful of milk..."

Photo 14 - Driving toward Shelby the wind was still howling at a steady 50 mph plus, and the tumbleweeds rolled across the landscape like herds of animals fleeing a fire. Sometimes they were caught by the barbed wire fencing, the only thing to stop them in their tumble, or they would keep rolling across the prairie. Often they would cross in front of my vehicle missing me by inches. They wouldn't hurt anything, but it was odd how they always made it past the rig.

Photo 15 - Ethridge Grain Elevator where the wind really blew me from my steps! I had to get a shot of the grain elevator at Etheridge, Montana. The wind was blowing so hard that it actually dislodged a piece of the siding on the structure and had it flying through the air for about 200 yards. It nearly hit my rig as I watched it sail through the air. Along the railroad tracks the wind actually hit me at my back and pushed me in my steps. I love these old elevators and it was worth the encounter with the high winds. I don't know how anything stands up to those high winds they get out there on the plains.

Photo 16 - Taking the Backroad. Leaving the Canadian border at Sweetgrass I decided to give the Little Jerusalem rocks a go. To find them that is. After all, it was in the same direction I was headed, albeit, in a round about fashion. Making sure I was on the right road, where all roads look alike, and none are marked, I headed into the backroads of Montana. What did I find? More roads. Nice wide gravel roads with scarcely a reason for a nice wide road. The Loop road leads back to Sunburst, Montana and unless I was on the wrong road I found about a conglomeration of approximately six hoodoos. Otherwise I saw none. I did see a deep ravine that most likely had some formations in it, but it was inaccessible. Thankful I had visited the Writing on Stone Park, I just enjoyed the long road back into Sunburst.

Photo 17 - Hello Bison. I'm always thrilled when I get to come out of Browning and see the Bison on the range. It's quite exciting to see them and this time I captured a bird that was having a face to face with one.

Photo 18 - Mountains of Fall is the finally to the trip, ending with the mountains of Glacier National Park.

I Buy My Work Too

August 27th, 2015

I Buy My Work Too

I have often purchased my own work to check the quality and because many of my photos I fall in love with. One recent capture I've purchased from the New Product listings - Shower Curtains.

I had visited a site that has ancient Cedar trees 1,000 years old, some of which are more than 8 feet in diameter. I was hoping to get the feeling that I was again standing amongst these giants just before I stepped into the scene and into the shower.

Hurray, I was successful in getting that feeling. The image is enlarged a bit to fit the size of a shower curtain but it doesn't lose much in quality. It was as I expected for a fabric print. The curtain quality was very good and I'm happy with the way it turned out and the effect. It feels like I'm standing at the base of the Giant Cedar.

Fires in our area are threatening this special area and I'm fearful the trip I made might have been the only one before they are all destroyed. I will treasure my images of them forever more.

Kudos to Fine Art America and Pixels for producing a very nice product!

Whats in a Name

June 22nd, 2015

Whats in a Name

Remember "Mr. Ed"? He was a talking horse in a syndicated TV show that ran from 1961 to 1966. The show's concept resembles that of the "Francis the Talking Mule" movies in which an equine title character talks.

I was teased relentlessly during those years that 'Francis the Talking Mule' was running. It didn't bother me too much because I loved those two shows.

Throughout my life, my name is generally misspelled because the female version is spelled with an "es" (I am female) and the male version with an "is". My parents didn't know there were two different spellings, so I got the "is" on the end.

I never liked my name and disliked hearing it spoken. It's only been during the last decade that I've decided to live with it.

The reason I bring this up is that I've stopped using the name I had for my photography which was "daysray". I had invented the name based on an image I had shot many years ago. It was taken in Homer, Alaska - mid-day, with dark, luminous clouds overhead. Then the clouds broke and the sun came spilling through the clouds with brilliant rays of sunlight. I thought of it as the 'days rays'. It stuck with me and I used it as my business name for a long while. Well, it seems there is someone else using that now and they were birthed with the name so not much chance of them giving it up.

I am now in the process of transitioning to a new logo (above). I'm looking over my body of work to see what it is I really want to focus on. I've also moved so you will be seeing some new areas as I get out and explore my surroundings.


Final outcome of experiment

March 12th, 2015

Final outcome of experiment

This is about rust and my semi-failed attempt at making a rusty surface for texture.

I wanted to display my abstract images of old autos in our local Art Walk. My idea was to keep the spirit of the work by having my images printed on large, 24x30, sheet metal (22 ga. cold rolled steel). I wanted to treat the metal and make it rusty so the texture of the rust would be felt on the piece. I found a neat instructable on instructables.com (http://www.instructables.com/id/Produce-a-Rich-Rust-Patina-on-Iron-and-Steel-Safe/) on how to rust metal and found it worked really well to make rust! I did a few tests on smaller pieces. Those came out nice but the rust was flaky.

It wasn't a complete failure, but not a complete success. The rust you can make is artful just by itself in my opinion.

The goal: create a textured metal sheet to print on.

The result/problem: no matter the amount of "pickling" or etching of the metal I couldn't get the 'rust' to stick. The only difference between the test piece and the larger sheets was I sanded the large sheets with 60 grit paper and I didn't "pickle" the test sheets because I missed that step. I went ahead and clear coated the test pieces knowing they didn't have a good adhesion. However, the printing turned out marvelous so I forged on with trying to get the large pieces to have the same effect.

The image below is what the creating of rust on the metal looked like during the process. After many hours and failed attempts, I ended up cleaning off the metal back to it's original state and then used a spray on texture. I then had my images printed on this textured surface.

This project was very challenging. The fun was in watching the rust develop on the metal. It created some awesome images. The pieces still turned out nice but I didn't feel they had the 'spirit' of the aging metal I had hoped to achieve. The final outcome with the hanging mechanism I made is shown above. The steel photographs are now for sale.

Sell Art Online

Learn to Appreciate Digital Art

March 3rd, 2015

Learn to Appreciate Digital Art

As an Artist, I am always expanding my knowledge and skills; growth through experience. Since my beginnings in photography and Digital Design I’ve come a long ways. I believe I’ve made huge strides in my photography and I feel I’ve stepped up my Digital Design a notch as well.

Photoshop has become a dirty word in some circles. Many people feel that because something is created on a computer it isn’t Art. Digital Art can be a huge challenge that few understand. Learning to use a software program is always the first step in creating something on a computer. Most people never have to learn a complex program and think that it is as easy as the ones they might use on a daily basis like MS Word.

The programs that are used by Artists are complex and most Artists never use the programs to their fullest extent. That’s because the programs are so large and do so many different things that it takes years to fully put into use all the different features of some programs.

Professional software programs like Adobe Photoshop, Illustrator and Corel Paint, are used in many high end Art professions like Graphic Design, Commercial Design, Interior Design, etc. These programs, along with a variety of others, are used as well by Artists.

They are large and complex programs and can take several years of use to become good at using them. I began using them when I returned to school at the Art Institute. I was using these programs throughout my 4 years there, becoming proficient in using them in the way I needed to accomplish my tasks. I was putting to use about one-quarter of what the programs will do.

Learning to use a complex software program is only the beginning. Creating Art with those programs requires a creative mind with vision. Once the software is semi-mastered it doesn’t mean you can get your creative vision successfully out of your mind’s eye and created in the program. Digital Art creations don’t just materialize without a good grasp of design elements like composition, color, balance, value.

Mastering a complex program, creating a work of Art, and getting it out of the computer and in front of an appreciative audience is an incredible challenge that is a daunting task; not for those who are looking for an easy way to create and sell some Art. Successfully convincing people that Digital Art is an Art form is gaining some momentum, but there is and will always be nay sayers.

The next time you open and write an email, use MS Word, Excel, or any other computer program, think about how long it’s taken you to learn these programs and any other new program and then ask yourself if you could spend 4-10 years learning a program. Perhaps then you can look upon a Digital Art piece and say, “Wow, that’s really something!”

Winter in the Rocky Mountains

February 15th, 2015

Winter in the Rocky Mountains

One of my favorite Montana drives is just outside the little frontier town of Augusta, Montana. I can't imagine what it must be like to have these views in your backyard everyday. The area sees all types of weather during any season. This year is no exception. It's quite dry. Where the snow typically blocks forest service roads there's now clear access to many back-country areas.

While we are enjoying the milder weather, it will mean trouble this summer if we don't get more snow; in the form of wildfires and drought. This portion of the mountain range provides a great many ranches and farms with irrigation as well as feeding hundreds of rivers and streams.

Still, I love to drive into the mountains. The trip getting there is as nice. The plains are quite and you hardly see anyone in any direction. Peace is found in the silence of the land. The sky is ever changing, dictated by storms from Canada or if the mountain is high enough, itself.

When nearing the mountains the wind is generally howling through the canyons. This time of year is when the elk are on their wintering grounds, driven down out of the hills by winter snows. They congregate and graze on the grasslands of the plains. They have come as usual, but they have no need to stay out on the grassland now. The snow line is far up the mountain and they can stay in the safety of the trees and feed on the flatland at night.

The beauty of this land always leaves me in awe as I turn every corner in the road.

Abstract Fractals

January 30th, 2015

Abstract Fractals

I've always been fascinated with the seemingly abstract designs of Fractals and thought I would do some exploration on the subject. The one shown here made me think of Seashells. So colorful, not like any I've ever found, but I can dream of a place where those colors exist on a faraway beach.

Did you know Fractals occur naturally in nature? Clouds, vegetables, color patterns, lightning, and snowflakes are some of them. An important use of Fractals is known as Fractal Geometry. Relative to the thousands of miles of coastline, there wasn't an accurate way to measure them until it was discovered they could be measured using Fractal Geometry.

Benoit Mandelbrot, a research scientist found through the use of a computer and complex calculations that he was producing repeating formations that were the very similar at any scale. His work produced what is known as the Mandelbrot set. He coined the term 'Fractal' in 1975 to describe repeating or self-similar mathematical patterns. So glad he did because I love the shapes and complexities of them!

You can see my explorations into this realm by selecting the more info button. They are available on select merchandise. I hope you enjoy viewing them as much as I enjoy making them, and if you find one you would enjoy looking at everyday go ahead and order one! You'll love it!

In love with the Art of Andy Goldsworthy

December 31st, 2014

In love with the Art of Andy Goldsworthy

I’m in love with the Art of Andy Goldsworthy

I was first introduced to the Land Sculptures of Andy Goldsworthy through a film called “Rivers and Tides” back in 2002. Directed by Thomas Riedelsheimer, this wonderful documentary follows Mr. Goldsworthy through several days and projects, revealing his art and connection with the land.

His creativity is a joy to watch come alive. He has an innate ability to use objects of nature to create Art that builds on what Mother Nature made, pushing them into brilliant objects that are themselves, the essence of the land.

One might wonder how Nature could be improved upon, but you mustn’t think of it like that. It is more of an ‘extension’ of Nature, empathy with the earth.

Working with snow, ice, leaves, bark, rock, clay, stones, feathers petals, twigs or whatever is at hand, Andy creates abstract pieces that he photographs when complete before they begin to spiral into decay.

If you Google Andy Goldsworthy images you will see many of his fabulous works that elicit a resounding WOW, especially when you find out how he made them. I don't want to post any of Andy's Photographys as they belong to him and I don't have permission. There are however many online that you can see. Check it out, you won’t be sorry!


Why Artists are Impossible Husbands

December 31st, 2014

Why Artists are Impossible Husbands

What would now be considered humorous, was considered the standard view in 1910. Here is an article and is worth the time to read just to see how high society, and perhaps most of society, viewed Artists.

From the The Spokane Press, February 13, 1910
Details of the proceedings in the matrimonial week of Mrs Howard Chandler Christy (click on the More Info button at the bottom), and Mr. Howard Chandler Christy, the well-known illustrator. Mrs. Christy points out the unwholesome moral atmosphere of student life and studio work which few Artists can resist.


Why Artists are Impossible Husbands


To marry an artist is to begin life in a topsy-turvy world. Were I advising a sister, a friend, or my own dear little daughter, Nathalie, about the way to happiness, I should say: "Never marry an artist." For this advice I should have the best of reasons�a broken heart, a broken life, Ideals dead and hope shattered. Had I at nineteen, married, I will not say not Howard Chandler Christy, but a man of a different vocation than his, life might be for me now a beautiful thing, not a thorny place of despair.

To sum the whole situation up in advance, let me say that an artist is an impossible husband from the very nature and environment of the particular field of human endeavor in which he labors. From the very earliest moment until the end of his career he breathes an atmosphere which is unreal and out of harmony with the ordinary wholesome restrictions and restraints of civilized life. The artist is surrounded from beginning to end throughout his entire career with false conceptions and unreal ideals which other men are not entangled with. From the moment a young man begins to think seriously of art as his profession he hears that student life means a free and easy existence in a little world of Bohemia, where men and women are on equal terms and no questions are asked.

Timidly, perhaps, the art student begins his work, but he soon accustoms himself to undraped female figures in the "life class�. His next step is to feel no embarrassment in the presence of a mixed class of men and women students where unadorned models of both sexes pose.


The Glamor of the Latin Quarter

More and more he is thrilled with the wonderful tales of life in the great Latin Quarter of Paris, where students from all over the world assemble. Before long he finds himself in Paris, and, instead of the charming Trilbys which he has pictured in his mind, he meets the coarse, vulgar and abandoned women of the student quarter. He is disillusioned and disappointed, but he finds that other artists accept these creatures as their companions, and he soon comes to relish the life of abandon. There are no restrictions, nobody holds him to accountability, he goes and comes as he pleases; he lives where he pleases and with whom he pleases. He finds that "artistic license is a phrase which covers a multitude of sins.

Eventually the artist emerges* from the repulsive surroundings of French Bohemia and, perhaps, establishes himself in a studio in New York. 'Here he probably chooses a Trilby of rather more grace and more cleanly habits that the creatures of the Quarter in Paris. But the same moral blindness follows him to his studio in America.

And when the artist marries, and even If he Is very sincere and earnestly resolved to be a worthy husband, the very atmosphere of the studio and the necessities of his work are against him. It is not difficult to see that the free and easy relations of artist and, model in attic studios are not wholesome and do not make for decency and a higher appreciation of womanhood. Some artists, it is true, rise above the degradation of studio life.

I have known many artists. I have known almost none who really were good husbands. One of the foremost Illustrators is a bachelor and I have heard that he has told his men friends he intended to remain unmarried because, to quote his words: "I and my tribe are not fit to become the heads of families." I respect this handsome bachelor illustrator. He Is, at least, honest In his warped, irregular life. Better a frank sinner than a hypocrite.

Artists and Orgies

The artist lives in his world and is governed by his own laws, which means no laws. He is a moral anarchist. He tacitly accepts the rules that govern the conduct of other men, for the other men, but he has not the slightest intention of obeying them himself.

Regular meals, regular sleep, faithfulness to his marriage vows, abstinence from drink and other vices, are right for other men, but not necessary for artists. Oh, never for artists! He knows but one law —the law of impulse.

The good husband, as every woman knows, is the man who prefers the quiet home life. Show me the artist who cares for his home and I will show you a glittering exception, a joke in. the artists' community.

The good husband is not "imperfectly but perfectly monogamous. He prefers his wife to all other women in the world, and he allows no other woman in the world to doubt it. No woman can even smile in her sleeve at the wife of a good husband. I recall no artist whose wife has not been smiled at by some woman, perhaps by several women. The wife may not be aware of it —some women are strangely blind.

The good husband is always a good father. The artists I know are spasmodically good fathers. They love their offspring while they are about. When absent from them they quite forget them. To prove my case let me recall the most daring affinity man. Who was he? Ferdinand Pinney Earle, the artist. It was In the artists' colony In New York that the plan of calmly putting away his wife, and with her his child, for another woman, was first carried out. The man who coldly executed this plan, and whom the world loathes in consequence, was an artist.

What orgy in New York which has not had an artist as its originator? "The girl in the pie" dinner took place at the studio of an artist.

The nameless scenes described by Evelyn Thaw in the hideous unfolding’s of the notorious Thaw case took place in studios.

From the time he begins to think of becoming an artist until he ceases being an artist, or until he dies, the young man who lives and works in the studios lawless being. He does what he likes because he likes it. He cares for no one but himself, and the vagabond life which he covers under the name of art He begins his artist life at some art school in this country and then he begins to like the rapid life. He takes out naturalization papers in the land of Bohemia. He drifts naturally to the Latin Quarter in Paris, which is the capital of the Land of License. There he acquires a new costume, new habits and an entire disregard of the decencies of life. He acquires even a new vocabulary, whose first and last words are vice. He buys a velvet coat, a slouch hat and a flowing tie, and when he puts them on he feels that this queer costume makes him a man apart, one who is above and beyond the ordinary observances of life. He takes some frowsy companion of the underworld. He eats at irregular times. He sleeps at Irregular times. He works at irregular times. He becomes a pirate on the high sea of life, flying the blackflag of license.
Picturesque But Unkempt

Any of the "decent hostesses in Paris will tell you that I It Is an ordeal to have at dinner the unkempt creature from the Latin Quarter who has happened to paint an unusual picture, and gotten himself talked about by the critics. His clothing Is not neat. His manners are bad, he Is half man, half beast. Even the habits of cleanliness have been forgotten. He usually has lost regard for all the conventions, event that of cleanliness. But suppose that the artist finishes his Latin Quarter education, suppose he turns his back upon the hideous life. He intends to reform. He does reform. He marries a good girl. They start their own little altar fire. He intends to lead from that time a model life.

But how can he? The man in another vocation may succeed in living down his foolish, fevered past. He signs the pledge and forgets the sprees of his college days. In time he becomes a fairly fit mate for the honorable girl he has married, a fairly fit father for the children the years bring to them. But not so with the artist. He cannot put his college days behind him. When he matriculated in the Latin Quarter it was for life. The hideous spectre of the old life pursues him. Sometimes when he is alone in his studio with some heavy-lidded, long-limbed, conscienceless woman, the spectre becomes flesh and blood and tempts him. The baleful influences of the studios have followed him. It overtakes and in some cases ruins him. All his surroundings make for Bohemian life in its lowest sense.

I do not say that there are not among models some good, honest girls.. But I do say that their lives do not tend to make them so, and that there are evil, conscienceless, vampire women among them. The artist, his moral sense weakened by the Latin Quarter life, falls easily a victim.

The good husband is the man of routine. The artist loathes routine. He hates to be asked when he will be home to dinner. It throws him into a rage to be asked where he has been. Yet the man who won't tell where he has been, has been somewhere where he should not be. The first step on the road to divorce is the husband's assertion, “Don't ask me where I have been, for I won't tell you.”

Sometimes the artist's wife, to hold his affections, tries to keep up with him. She tries to drink with him. She tries to meet his Bohemian friends and to like them for his sake. She tries to adapt herself to his irregular habits, which are not habits but caprices. And so, some times, the poor, miserable wife goes to the wall of disgrace and Infamy with him.

Sowing wild oats are bad for a man. They are worse for a woman. Her delicate organism will not stand the test of the wild sowing. She may sink a victim by the roadside, while he staggers on to the end. This is a dark picture, but true. The artist does live, in a topsy-turvy world. Measure his life by any practical standard and see how awry it Is. Compare It with the business man's. The business man's first thought is for provision for the future of his family. The artist scorns such material considerations. Never marry an artist.


Copyright. 1910, by American-Examiner. Great Britain Right* Reserved.

Howard Chandler Christy (1873-1952). Christy had become one of the most recognized magazine illustrators of his time, reaching a total audience of approximately 64 million Americans through an average of 4 magazine subscriptions per household. By 1910, Christy's estimated annual earnings reached $50,000. A single contract with William Randolph Hearst in 1912 paid him $18,000 a year. Magazines in New York such as McClures, Ladies Home Journal, Cosmopolitan, Redbook, Collier�s and Hearst�s commissioned Christy's illustrations for their articles. During this period he also developed strong relationships with book publishers Bobbs-Merrill and Moffat, Yard and Company.
Christy's first marriage was to one of his models, Maybelle Thompson, in 1898. Their relationship was a stormy one, documented in several newspaper gossip columns of the day. In 1908, after separating from his wife, abstaining from alcohol, and turning to Christian Science, Christy and their only daughter, Natalie Chandler Christy, left New York City and returned to the family farm in Duncan Falls, Ohio.




Not your Usual Still Life

May 30th, 2014

Not your Usual Still Life

When Fran sits down to create, it is within a 5 inch square. Using very tiny watch parts, Fran puts together the parts and pieces to create a work of Art.
Beginning with a stash of old pocket watch pieces the process developed in her vision as dials, gears, and stems into shapes that resembled organic forms; she meticulously places strategic parts.

As a Photographer she grabbed the camera and began a process of creating the still, photographing it, and then adding color and texture in Photoshop. The result is what she has termed -Mechanical Clockworks- seen in Hearts, animals and abstract configurations.
She is still in the early stages of the process but likes how the pieces turn into something unexpected. -I rarely know what I am making at the beginning. It just seems to appear and then I take it to the next level.-

The process can days to produce from start to finish. Fran lives in Helena Montana and also works as a Mechanical Drafter.

 

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