In search of Paul Bunyan and his chopper....

Well, dear readers, it is time for some catch up on the blog. It’s now Saturday and we are on our way to Galena, IL for the next stage of our trip. We left Rolling Hills Resort early this morning (6.15 am) and hope to be in Galena around 3 pm or so. But first, let’s head back to Thursday and pick up the trail….

After our day of fishing we decided that we wanted to do something a little different that involved some exercise. It was time to bring out the bikes and head off to do some sightseeing, exploring, and riding. Armed with a trusty old copy of Lonely Planet USA we headed off to the village of Walker about 2 hours north east of Garrison. We threw the bikes onto the rack, grabbed our water bottles, and headed out, keen to see some more of Minnesota. I loaded up the rooftop canon on the Pathfinder just in case we saw Michelle Bachmann fly past on her broom and off we went. The drive through Northern Minnesota was really quiet beautiful and reminded me of when I spent time in Canada back in 2000, hardly surprising considering the proximity. It seemed that as we drove further north the pine trees got bigger, the grass became greener, the log cabins prettier (as did the men). What was really nice to see was how some of the usual suspects of fast food chains and stores like McDonalds, Wendy’s, and Walgreens, had risen to the occasion and actually built nice log cabin inspired buildings. It was a welcome change from America’s endless, featureless, obsession with dull strip malls and cookie cutter stores.

Arriving in Walker we decided that we would take a walk around town and have some lunch. Lunch was bagged in “The Outdoors Café” which was basically just a greasy spoon serving quite good burgers, and then we headed off for a wander. It was “Market Day” in Walker, which in reality appeared to mean that all the shops on the main street had dragged out all the things they couldn’t sell onto the sidewalk/pavement and were hawking them there instead. Flip Flops, bric-a-brac, “art”, t-shirts, walking boots, and other goods could be purchased at bargain prices. The local Tupperware store were even having a sale too, though we declined to purchase, despite James being attracted to a natty plastic salt and pepper shaker set. We flitted in and out of some of the stores, pausing to spend some time in an antique/thrift store as well. Here I had an idea for a new art project, revolving around items that have been previously owned, that would encompass all 50 states over a period of time. But I am getting ahead of myself…..more of that project when we get to Friday!

After we had tired of endless numbers of flip flop shoppers and people pushing buggies over our toes we decided it was time for our bike ride. We headed back to the Pathfinder and set out for the Paul Bunyan Trail. Having seen various paintings and statues of this particularly dashing lumberjack and his chopper I was eager to see the countryside that had been nominated as his “trail”. In reality I am sure lumberjacks are hot, sweaty, smelly, and poorly dressed, unlike the pictures of Paul Bunyan that portrayed him as handsome, clean, with well manicured hands and smelling of manly cologne. So off we peddled up his trail. The ride was really lovely and very uneventful (apart from a brief rain shower). There were no lumberjacks to be seen (smelly or otherwise) and I really couldn’t see any connection between our surroundings and Mr. Bunyan other than a shrewd marketing department. We rode for about 12 miles each way and returned to the car a little pooped out and ready for home. A quick stop for a vodka and tonic at a local watering hole in Garrison helped refresh us, and we spent a pleasant and relaxing evening at the cabin, dining on more of James’ kill from the previous day before turning in, saddle sore and tuckered out.

Friday found us in the mood for a more relaxing day. It was to be our last full day in the area so we decided that we would kick it off by cycling into town for breakfast. On the way I started to contemplate the seeds of my idea for my new art project. It must have been something to do with the peddling as all of a sudden the idea burst into my head and started fleshing out really nicely. I have always been fascinated by people, their stuff, and what it means to them. I am also fascinated as to how people and their stuff relate (or don’t relate) to their surroundings and geographic locations. What better way to explore stuff, relationships, and location than through antique stores across the country. The idea is still pretty much beginning but I felt that I had enough to go on to at least start the process off. So with that, I told James what was in my head and off we went to put my plan into action. Bear in mind, dear reader, that this is still a fairly fluid outline and I have learnt enough to know that my art projects usually always turn out different from what they started as! So expect this to change and develop over time.

We started off at the local bank. Bearing in mind that I want to do this over the entire United States if possible, there has to be a few set parameters to work within – the artist materials if you will. The main tool was to be a $50 bill. I took $60 out of the ATM and then headed inside the bank. There I was met by a lady called Bonita. I explained to her that I would like a $50 bill, which she duly gave me. I then photographed the bill and the ATM slip on a spare piece of counter. Then, upon leaving the bank, I took a photograph of the bank itself, made a note of its location, and set off on the next leg of the journey. Getting the $50 bill may be different in some states, as that may be challenging on weekends, but I will always be taking $50 or $60 out of the ATM, recording the ATM receipt and location, and also recording from where I change it into a $50 and the name of the person who does it.

Next stop was to find an antique store. Aware that I need to make sure that I allow the creative process some room to develop, the only criterion I had was that the store had to be owned by a native of the state, obviously, in this case, a Minnesotan. So we headed into the nearest town, Brainerd, to find an antique store. There, we found a whole street full of them, and after a few enquiries we found one that was owned and run by a native Minnesotan, Joan Cooper. Her store was called Antiques and Accents and was veritable treasure trove of “stuff”. Joan didn’t know what was coming, poor love, and was mightily suspicious of me. Here is what I asked her to do. I showed her the $50 bill and asked her to pick out $50 worth of stuff from her store. The only condition was that the items had to have been previously owned (i.e. not new). If she wanted to pick items that related to Minnesota in anyway, by her own judgment, that was fine, but it wasn’t necessary. She could pick as many items as she wanted to make up the $50 or as few items. I just wanted it to be her choice and not mine. I also said that I wanted to be able to take her picture with the $50 bill, along with a couple of pictures of her store, inside and out. She looked at me like I was mad, but then said yes. She seemed more comfortable when I left her a business card and that we would go and have lunch while she picked out the items. With that we left a puzzled looking Joan behind us, stepped back out into the sunlight, and went in search of lunch.

We settled on the North Wind Café, just a few doors away. As we entered I noticed a sign on wall by the counter. It said “No out of town” on it. A little perturbed I asked James if that meant we were not allowed to eat here as we were from somewhere else. He laughed at me and pointed out that if you lifted away the picture frame that was leaning against the sign it revealed “checks accepted”. I scowled at everyone in sight, and, just like when a cat falls off a fence in front of you, picks itself up and saunters off with an air of “I meant to do that all along”, marched off to a table, to drown my sorrows in pepsi and French fries.

Soon it was time for us to return to see Puzzled Joan in her antique emporium so we paid the bill and hurried out. I was excited to see what she picked for us. As we entered the store there she sat, beaming at us looking very proud of herself. “Do you want to see what I have picked for you to make sure it is okay”? she said excitedly, all trace of Suspicious Joan having evaporated. “Sure”, I responded. “But whatever you have chosen is fine”. It was fascinating as she still didn’t get the concept that someone was asking her to be the person who was making the choice. It was all about her, the native Minnesotan, and her view of the stuff. With that she showed me the collection she had put together. She had chosen about 6 items and they all still had their tags on (I made a mental note that all future items had to have a price tag or sticker on them too).

I also wanted to buy a box to hold the objects all in as well. I would like to try and buy roughly the same size of box in each store for consistency, but had already decided that the box should not be bought out of the $50. If they wanted to donate a box that would be fine, but I felt that it had to be kept separate from the main purchase. James was duly dispatched to the back of the store and came back with a charming wooden box to carry it all in. All the items were put into a brown paper bag, placed into the box, and a receipt written out to MKphotographers for $50. Next I took a couple of quick portraits of Jean holding her $50 bill (I may in future also take a picture of them with the box of items too), a couple of pictures of the inside of the store, a few from outside, and we were off and on our way. James peered into the bag and asked if there was $50 worth of stuff there. I said that I thought so, yes, but it really didn’t matter. If someone swindled us, that was all part of the piece. It would be documented along with everything else when the work is displayed. Likewise, if someone chose to give me some old piece of crap that they had been dying to get rid of for 25 years that would be fine too. This is all about representing the people through an artistic piece, good/bad, nice/ugly, and about all the connections that can be drawn and created through the interrelationships. I have no idea what I am going to do with all the stuff, but I would like to display it in collections, maybe photographed as a typographical piece as well. The project will no doubt continue to evolve, but I remain very excited about it and plan to do Illinois when we are in Galena today (Saturday)

Having finished with my art for the day, it was time to go and see some other people. We had spied a sign pointing to a pottery store off the beaten track earlier on our travels and we wanted to go visit to see what it was all about. So off we went, down some little dirt track, to Brown Bear Pottery. There we met the fabulous Haddie, a 50ish woman who sits making pottery to feed herself and pay the bills, and making ceramic sculptures to feed her creativity. We spent a lovely hour talking about pottery, Cat Stevens, politics, Nicaragua, and parties before purchasing some of her lovely pieces and heading on our way. I also continued on my series of taking pictures of artists in their locations too. She sent us off to see Bob at Ripple River Wood turning studio where we found more kindred spirits to chat with and pass the time. We bought a few pieces and I took Bobs picture to add to the collection. Maybe this will develop into another project over time….who knows! But for those of you at the University who are reading this blog I am continuing to try and think a little more broadly in my work….so there.

Over the course of the week we had cooked at the cabin most of the time for a few reasons. 1. There were not many places to eat in Garrison. 2. Everywhere that we found dished up either burgers or sandwiches or frozen pizza. 3. We had been trying to eat a little more healthily as we are both expanding on this vacation. 4. We had a mountain of fish to eat, courtesy of James, fisherman extraordinaire . We were moaning about this terrible state of affairs to Haddie at Brown Bear Pottery who suggested that we try The Lonesome Pine (cue chorus of Laurel and Hardy singing “The Trail of the Lonesome Pine” one of my faves!) Wow, we thought, a recommendation! We asked if it served burgers and she said yes, but that there were lots of other things too, including fresh fish, pastas, salads, and veggie options. So with dinner plans set we went back to the cabin to pack for our early departure and, after taking a quick nap, we headed out for dinner.

The Lonesome Pine was FABULOUS! It was filled with lovely people, great atmosphere, and importantly great food and wine. We sat at the bar drinking Gin and Tonics for an hour while waiting for a table. James wrote postcards to his blisters and brother, while I sat watching the world and all the people go by. For dinner we both had fresh walleye, one breaded and fried, and one broiled with garlic and lemon. Everything was washed down with some super wine that we didn’t finish so took home with us for later. A definite winner of a place and a big thank you to Haddie for pointing us in the right direction.

Arriving home at around 10pm I thought it was time to sit by the shores of the lake and finish up two of the almost empty bottles of wine we had ended up with. So we grabbed the camping chairs, some glasses, and headed down to the shore of the lake. Thunder was rolling in the distance, lightning darted around in the sky, and there were breaks in the clouds that let the moon shine down on us. We could hear people laughing in their RV’s and caravans while we sat and thought about how lovely the night air was. Protected by bug spray (we had learned!) we spent a wonderful hour or so while James remembered more stories and happenings from his previous visits to the lake. He talked about fishing, swimming in the lake as a kid, rowing out on the lake, and a myriad of other memories. It was a wonderful and fitting end to our time at Rolling Hills Resort. Who knows if we will ever be back again but I am very pleased that we went and had the opportunity to do so many different and fun things.

So now, dear reader, as I mentioned earlier, we are back on the road again. Our destination is Galena, IL which will be our halfway stopping point on the way back to the Martin Koschoreck homestead. We are just passing over the Mississippi as we I type….so stay tuned for the final installment of the blog a little later!

Big love to you all,

D&J