Wilderness Joy from an Artist’s Perspective
When I was asked to make the awards for Mountainfilm 2014, I was thrilled about taking on a new challenge. But as always with new opportunities, the excitement soon waned and madness set in. My inner voices whispered, "Why the hell are you taking this on?" and "You don't know a thing about making an award." And the scariest one nailed it: "What, exactly, are you going to create?" That anxiety continued for at least a week with sleepless nights and unwelcome inner voices — a kind of temporary insanity that is part of my creative process.
As I turned over Mountainfilm’s 2014 theme of “wilderness” in my head, I begin to see a little ray of light through the clouds. This is something I know — something I know well because the forest has been my friend for many years. When I was a kid growing up in Missouri, I spent every free moment in the woods. Days would go by before seeing someone near my secret hideout. If it was summer, I would soak my feet in the creek and lay back on the warm mossy rocks, my eyes closed, perfectly safe and happy to be in my own world among the turtles, tadpoles and big beautiful trees. This was joy, so "wilderness joy" would become my creative theme. I would use the trees as inspiration.
I’ve seen many examples of people using sliced wood artistically. My favorites have covered entire walls in varying hues of natural colors and sizes. My challenge, always, is to change an old idea to make it my own. "Everything old is new again" is my motto. Of course, I would need to add color and lots of it — that’s what I do.
One of my favorite parts of the creative process is gathering materials. I enjoy using recycled materials and found objects, so I searched for fruit tree branches and discarded Christmas tree trunks and began to develop a plan to express wilderness joy. As the self-doubt receded, excitement returned. I began to hit my stride. This the most wonderful feeling in the world — the reason I do what I do.
As I work, my mind wanders back to that secret place in the forest of my youth, and I realize that it’s been too long since I soaked my feet in the cool water of a creek and laid back with my eyes closed and heart open. It’s time to go back home.
Longtime Telluride resident Flair Robinson is a self-taught, mixed media, mosaic and assemblage artist. She works primarily with ceramic tile, hand-cut glass and recycled junk and is responsible for creating the 2014 Mountainfilm awards.
