374 S. Coleman, Thatcher, AZ January 24, 2012

The grotto where a religious statue one stood was empty.  It was snuggled into a corner of the single wide, manufactured structure where the previous owner added an extension to this well lived abode.  This home lost its human tenants.   The grotto had lost its religious icon.

I placed, photographed and documented cowboy and indian art piece #132 in the grotto.  The art piece wasn’t a religious icon.  However, the “cowboy and indian” plastic action figures are – and always will be.  Let’s have an "amen” for the wild, wild west.     

       

       

 

 

938 Cochise Stronghold Road Cochise, AZ January 6, 2012

Across the street from the Cochise Church was a small, wooden home that appeared to have no human activity around it.  One of the indicators that I look for to see whether or not a home has inhabitants is whether or not there is a garbage can outside.  Most folks who leave an abode for good may leave behind an assortment of furniture, clothing, toys and kitchenware strewn about.  However, there is rarely a trash receptacle remaining at the abode.  Don’t have a clue what that is all about. 

Since there was no garbage can anywhere in sight, I headed over there.  Behind the house was a wooden and tin garage with no doors on it.  I placed, photographed and documented cowboy and indian art piece #129 on an empty shelf in the back of the garage. 

It was time to get on the highway and head back to my home at the RocknW Ranch/ Art Studio in the southern part of Graham County.  Back to an abode that had a few trash receptacles.  One in particular for “harvested horse manure”  -  just calling my name.             

Cochise Church Cochise, AZ January 6, 2012

The patient I had just seen lived deep in the farming community outside of Cochise.  Drove down N. Manzoro Road and had just passed W4 Spear Ranch Road.  Looked for Cochise Stronghold Road which I knew would take me right back to 191.

I easily found it and drove through “downtown” Cochise.  On my left was the cutest, small white church.  It appeared to no longer serve in the function as a place of worship.  Now its function appeared to be one of a photo opportunity for the few tourists who might venture this way.

I placed, photographed and documented cowboy and indian art piece #128 on white painted, cement, ledge below an arch and near the front door.  One more cowboy and indian art piece placed in a new home.   

       

       

 

321 Chase Creek, Clifton, AZ December 6, 2011

I was dropping off one of my cowboy and indian, mixed media sculptures for Dr. Jeff Gaskin (dentist who works at the local Federal Correctional Institution).  A hop, skip and a jump way from the old miners’ union hall, that he’s now renovating into a bed and breakfast establishment, is an abandoned building that looks as if it may have been a bar.        

The building had three levels to it.  At least one window was broken on all the levels.  There was blue spray painted large letter graffiti next to the window on the left side of the main door.  I was unable make out what the graffiti said except for raca…think…remember?  The main door had a sign attached to it which read, “DO NOT ENTER.  UNSAFE TO OCCUPY.  It is a misdemeanor to occupy this building or to remove or deface this notice.   BUILDING OFFICAL TOWN OF CLIFTON.”

Even though I wasn’t personally going to occupy the building – a cowboy and indian icon art piece would have a new home on the windowsill next to the graffiti.  There I placed, photographed and documented #126 on the window’s ledge.  Task finished.

Before I drove away, I noticed a disheveled man in tattered clothes as he obliviously walked up and down Chase Creek.  He had a beer can in his hand and sort of drank out of it.  Never gave me or anything else a second look. He somehow looked lost or “out-of-place.”  All I thought about as I drove through the rocky hills home, was that an actual human being or the spirit of a man who use to drink in that building when it was a bar?  He could’ve been a homeless person who lived and died in the building when it was no longer a bar.  Did the sign on the door have anything to do with the man I saw?  I’ll never know.  Never. 

     

  

       

 

Corner of Bowie Avenue & Solomon Road, Safford, AZ November 26, 2011

I was invited to a democratic fund raiser supper at the former miners’ union hall in Clifton for Wenona Benally Baldenegro.  If this woman gets what striving for, she would be the first Native American to hold a seat in Congress.  Wenona grew up on a Navajo reservation and went on to get a Masters in Public Policy and a law degree from  Harvard.  (Could this be a seed for a film script?)

The sun was setting as I drove to the supper on one of my favorite back roads.  On part of this road, there were cotton fields on both sides of me.  Well, what was left of the cotton after the harvest.  A few miles from the Highway 70, I placed, photographed and documented #125 on a wooden fence post at the edge of a cotton field. 

The sun had finally set so I turned the headlights on in my SUV.  When I reached the highway, there were only a few vehicles intermittedly  coming and going.  Quite different from when I drove the expressways between Ann Arbor and Detroit.  Now this was my kind of rush hour traffic.         

   

       

 

Beaver Creek Ranch, Alpine, AZ October 26, 2011

Every muscle in my body hurt as I packed up my SUV with my leather chaps, various boots and a suitcase with dirty laundry.  I’ve ridden on cattle round-ups which are slow and leisurely overall.  This is not so on a horse round-up.  We moved 50 head of horses from their summer home in Alpine to their winter home in Springville – about a 60 mile ride on the back of a fast moving horse.   

When I decided to go on this horse round-up, I started conditioning myself with simple yoga exercises.  Apparently, my conditioning regimen wasn’t effective because I’ve never hurt all over my whole body this badly.  Not even when I was bucked off of Spice.

Before I headed back to Safford, I placed, photographed and documented art piece #127 on the window ledge of an early 1900’s wooden, guest cabin on the Beaver Creek Ranch property.  The cabin appeared to be small and I wondered how a whole family could live between split log walls.  Of course with all those people huddled in that tiny vicinity – that was one way to keep warm during the cold, snowy winters in the White Mountains.

Before I drove away from the Beaver Creek Ranch, I thanked the owners, Bill and Caren for their hospitality.  Now the only other thing that I looked forward to being thankful for was the first appointment I could get with my chiropractor.  Ouch … Ouch … Ouch.          

       

 

 

                      

US 191 @ Red Hill Road, Alpine, AZ October 22, 2011

I quite enjoyed my drive on US 191 through the Apache National Forrest in the White Mountains on my way to Beaver Creek Ranch.  The Ponderosa Pine, Aspen and Fir at 8,000 ft. altitude were a nice change from the sage, cacti, palm trees and tumbleweeds I’m use to at 3,000 ft.   I’m still adusting to the fact that I now live in a state where such drastic climate zones are only hours apart.  Alpine (named after its “Swiss-like” quality) is a popular summer vacation spot for the staff, at the hospital, I work with to escape Safford’s sweltering heat.    

As soon as I made a left on to Red Hill Road, I noticed an abandoned, run down wooden cabin in an open field about 30 feet from the road.  The opposite side of the road was a sign dedicating the reintroduction of the Mexican Wolf to this area.

  I stopped my SUV and grabbed my art gear.  I placed, photographed and documented cowboy and indian found art piece #125 in the cabin right before the sun set.  Now it was time to get to the ranch before it was completely pitch dark.  I had no idea where I was or where I was going since I’ve never been here.  This definitely fell into the category of “an adventure.”