<![CDATA[Melody Epperson

<![CDATA[Melody Epperson - Blog]]>Fri, 05 Jun 2026 11:09:02 -0700Weebly<![CDATA[Closure]]>Sat, 21 Mar 2026 15:39:02 GMThttps://www.melodyepperson.com/blog/closure

As things start to wind down, I must admit I have mixed emotions. I have thoroughly enjoyed my two artist talks — they have proven to be very satisfying. But all things must end, and Dust to Apples has just a few weeks left.
On Wednesday, March 18th, we held our reception and panel discussion. It was an evening of Art, Ag, and Celebration, hosted by KUVO Radio's own Abi Clark. She has followed this story throughout the season, and it was an absolute delight having her moderate the conversation between three of the landowners and me. We discussed the project's origin and got to know the landowners better.

Now that the event is over, I have been trying to put into words why I feel so much joy and satisfaction about the closing reception and panel discussion for Dust to Apples. The best way to describe it is that it just felt so right. It completed the story I was telling through the art — but now through the voices of the landowners themselves. It was not about me at all. It was about the bigger idea of reconnecting to the land. Through the landowners' own voices — the farmers and ranchers — we witnessed the real impact of that reconnection.

Before that evening, I hadn't put together the fact that each of these landowners was a first-generation farmer or rancher. Each had come to the same conclusion I had, only in their own way. Each had left city life and moved to the country to toil as our predecessors had done. Each had rediscovered the rewards of partnering with the land to make something.
My joy grew with every panelist who shared their story. I believe there are no truly original ideas. My ideas for Dust to Apples were not entirely my own — they belonged to the collective unconscious. And that evening verified that belief.

Also, though it may sound a little "woo-woo," the evening felt like confirmation that I am living my purpose here on Earth, through creating artwork and partnering with so many people on this project. I am eternally grateful for Amy Smith's belief in me. She stood by my side, even through the unclear parts, helping me articulate my deeper vision to the bureaucracy and the greater community.
I am also grateful for the many friends and fellow artists who advised and guided my ideas toward something not only clearer, but more successful. Yes, my cup runneth over.
Several people have asked, "What now?" And I can't say for certain. What I can say is that I am confident the things I have done and the lessons I have learned through Dust to Apples, are already guiding me forward.

Thank you to my grandparents for having the courage to take the epic journey they took. Thank you to my Mom, who supported me in so many ways, and passed on their stories. Thank you to Jimena Peck for capturing the experience so beautifully with her photographs. And thank you to my husband, Alex, for enduring all the messes. The fabric hanging from the railing and large metal structures taking up space in the garage — and for witnessing the entire project alongside me.

]]><![CDATA[The Final Exhibition is up!]]>Sun, 25 Jan 2026 02:57:03 GMThttps://www.melodyepperson.com/blog/the-final-exhibition-is-upI'm thrilled to announce that as of January 9th, the entire exhibition is available for viewing!

Here's what you need to know:

Dust to Apples: Colors of the Eastern Plains
Adams County Government Building
4430 S Adams County Pkwy, Brighton, CO 80601
Hours: Monday–Friday, 8:00 AM–2:30 PM
(Note: Taza Coffee, where some work is displayed, closes early)

This is an expansive exhibition, so here's a guide to help you navigate the different elements. Start at the front lobby of the building:

What Used to Be – Sculpture made of fabric and steel (Lobby)

Voices from the Land – Blue phone and listening station (Lobby)
(The phone works, so make sure you check it out! This collaboration with Jim Good includes excerpts from a 1970s interview with my grandparents and a recent interview I did with RMPBS and KUVO.)
Time Lapse – 20 ink paintings (Taza Coffee)
Landlines – Encaustic paintings (Taza Coffee and Hallway), with three photographs by Jimena Peck
The Alchemy – Display case (Lobby)
The People Who Work the Land – Display case (Hallway)

]]><![CDATA[Ending and Starting]]>Mon, 24 Nov 2025 19:55:39 GMThttps://www.melodyepperson.com/blog/ending-and-starting

I’m putting the finishing touches on the artwork for Dust to Apples: Colors of the Eastern Plains, and it feels terrific. This project has been years in the making, and soon the work will finally be on the walls. I can’t wait to share images of the exhibition once everything is installed.

Next week I’ll hang the majority of the show, marking the beginning of the end of this long journey.

The creative life moves in cycles, much like the plants I’ve been harvesting. A project begins like a seed—small, uncertain, planted with care. It takes patience to tend something that doesn’t yet exist. When it finally breaks through the ground, you can see a shape taking form, though it may look very different when fully grown. Eventually, it blooms, and new seeds appear, ready to begin again.

A new seed is already forming for the next body of work, even as I harvest and clean up the last pieces of Dust to Apples. My mind is split between imagining what comes next—a process that thrills me—and finishing the work of this season, which demands focus and discipline.

I love this stage, and it terrifies me. I worry I won’t finish. I worry the next idea won’t work. And yet, the cycle continues.

Yesterday I found a quote my sister Kim sent me:
“Don’t be afraid of being wrong or right about art…
Art won’t mind…
Be afraid of not feeling very much.”
—Wiley, 1984

I’m taking that as a reminder to be fearless, to feel my way through the uncertainty. That is exactly what I intend to do.

I also finally visited Guffey, Colorado. This is the “Apples” part of Dust to Apples. When my grandparents settled in Giffey, they grew potatoes, which they would trade for other provisions such as Apples. There is not much left of this boomer town. But I did find some of my favorite things to photograph, OLD STUFF!

]]><![CDATA[Dust to Apples: Reflecting on Two Years of Color and Connection]]>Sun, 26 Oct 2025 22:33:41 GMThttps://www.melodyepperson.com/blog/dust-to-apples-reflecting-on-two-years-of-color-and-connection

It’s hard to believe my time at the farms is coming to an end. For the past two years, I’ve wandered the wide, beautiful land east of Denver—meeting alpacas, cows, and even a few curious donkeys. I’ve watched the rhythms of nature unfold, from the shimmer of summer fields to dark storm clouds sweeping in from the west. The view of the Rocky Mountains has been a constant companion, sometimes veiled in rain, sometimes framed by soft, billowing clouds.

Through these seasons, I’ve learned what grows in Colorado and what colors the land gives back. Each plant, seed, and root tells its own story—of resilience, adaptation, and beauty.

Now, back in my studio, I’m translating those experiences into art. While creating was always the goal, this journey has become much more. It’s been about reconnecting to the land, tracing threads of history—both personal and collective—and deepening my care for the world around me.

The result of this work will come together in an exhibition titled Dust to Apples: Colors of the Eastern Plains, opening soon at the Adams County Government Center, with installations in both the Taza Coffee House and the lobby.

The show will feature a series of encaustic and ink paintings, a large sculptural piece, and two display cases filled with materials, artifacts, and pigments that tell the story behind the work. I’m also honored to include the stunning photography of Jimena Peck, whose images capture the soul of the land and the people who care for it.

This exhibition is both a culmination and a beginning—a reflection on how the land shapes us and how, in return, we leave our mark.

]]><![CDATA[Making Ink from Natural Elements]]>Sat, 04 Oct 2025 01:08:39 GMThttps://www.melodyepperson.com/blog/making-ink-from-natural-elementsMany people ask me how to make ink. My response is always, “It’s actually pretty simple—all you need to do is extract the color.” Most often, this is done with water and heat. The real masters of color extraction are dyers, who have long worked with plants to coax out their hues. For ink, you can use nearly any part of a plant: flowers (like blanket flower), stems and leaves (such as amaranth), seeds (like walnuts) and even roots (like beets).
One key difference between making ink and making dye is the amount of material needed. While dye requires a substantial quantity of plant matter to saturate fabric, ink needs only a small amount.
This summer, I gave a demonstration on ink-making and shared how colors can be adjusted with modifiers. By shifting the pH, the ink itself transforms. Some of my favorite modifiers include citric acid, alum, washing soda, and iron phosphate.
Unlike dye, my inks aren’t made to withstand countless washings or years of wear. Instead, they become part of my artwork. In my final show at Taza Coffee in the Adams County Government building, I will present Time Lapse, a series of 20 paintings.
Time Lapse (Change) is a quiet meditation on what we’ve gained and what we’ve lost: the wisdom once passed down through generations, the deep knowledge of soil and seasons overshadowed by mechanization, and the disappearance of small family farms.
As agriculture grows increasingly industrialized, the intimate connection people once held with the land slips further away. My work brings these shifts into focus, honoring both the beauty of what remains and the melancholy of what’s gone.
My personal disconnection mirrors our collective one. Each of my techniques emerges from hands-on experimentation—failures and surprises alike. Through this process, I’ve come to embrace the impermanence of natural pigments and the fragile beauty they carry.

]]><![CDATA[The Heart of Flying B Bar Ranch]]>Wed, 10 Sep 2025 01:14:05 GMThttps://www.melodyepperson.com/blog/the-heart-of-flying-b-bar-ranch

When I pull into Flying B Bar Ranch, I’m always met with the warmth and beauty of the land. Marsh, their majestic Great Pyrenees, lounges on the lawn while Margaret stands nearby with a welcoming smile.

We hop into the side-by-side and head toward our destination. Along the way, Margaret tells me about the nesting eagles and other wildlife that have recently visited the ranch. But more than the animals, I’m struck by the heart of these landowners. Margaret shares a deep bond with her cattle and holds a profound respect for the sacrifice they make to feed us.

She loves this land and takes seriously the responsibility of caring for it.

The skies here stretch wider than at my home, holding the majesty and quiet beauty of the prairie. Today, we find the herd—our reason for coming out. They aren’t afraid of us. In fact, they line up and watch as we snap photos. They look healthy and content, and I can’t help but laugh when one wanders close enough for Jimena to touch her nose.

Each visit grounds me. Even Margaret admits she’s grateful we pulled her away from the tedious computer work she’d been doing—a reminder of why they chose to live on the Eastern Plains and why I drive out to visit.

]]><![CDATA[Rest Brings Magic]]>Thu, 28 Aug 2025 14:26:56 GMThttps://www.melodyepperson.com/blog/rest-brings-magic

Sometimes all you need is a short getaway—a place where you can think, sleep, and dream. This week, I headed to the mountains. Much like my ancestors, I needed new terrain, fresh landscapes, and, most of all, space to step away from the piles of dust collecting in my life.

Once I did, big magic happened. I set aside my books about the Dust Bowl and ink-making and picked up Big Magic by Elizabeth Gilbert—a book about inspiration and creativity. In it, Gilbert describes how ideas are out there, waiting for a willing collaborator to bring them to life. I love this concept—that inspiration isn’t something we own. My ideas are not mine alone; they are shaped by the people, experiences, and moments I’ve encountered along the way.

While reading, I also found the exact nudge I needed for my upcoming exhibition, Dust to Apples, which will be on view at the Adams County City and County Building and Taza Coffee from December through March. In my inbox was the work of artist Kelly Williams (https://www.kellywilliamsart.com), who incorporates elements from nature into her encaustic paintings—ashes, water, and sunlight. Inspired, I immediately began burning twigs and leaves from the farms and filled my spray bottle with rainwater.

Then the next day, I headed down to Lazy B Acres Alpaca Farm to visit Little Larry. He continues to delight and amuse me, bringing joy to my artist journey. His gentle curiosity and quirky charm were a reminder that magic often shows up in unexpected forms.

I am catching the big magic that has been offered to me—just as Elizabeth Gilbert describes.

]]><![CDATA[Sharing with the Community]]>Sun, 10 Aug 2025 16:48:05 GMThttps://www.melodyepperson.com/blog/sharing-with-the-communityThis week marked the start of my community outreach events. The first stop was Hometown Days in Strasburg, Colorado—a small town about an hour east of Denver and one of the places where I harvest my colors.
Sharing the inks I’ve made from local plants was both deeply rewarding and, at times, a little frustrating. The joy came in watching people light up when they saw the colors and recognized plants they knew. The challenge came from the relentless wind. Everything needed to be anchored down—watercolor paper, lids, even pencils. More than once, the wind claimed victory.
There’s probably a lesson somewhere in those two experiences—something about nature always having the upper hand, or about the art of surrender. My great-niece certainly embraced it. She laughed as we chased runaway papers across the park and didn’t mind when a gust sent water tumbling over her painting. Her delight was a reminder: sometimes the best response to life’s disruptions is joy.
I will be hosting several of these events this season. The next is in Bennet, Co, for Bennet Days, the first weekend in September. And then again for Welby Days, the last Saturday in September. I hope you will join me for these opportunities to engage with the colors of the Eastern plains.

]]><![CDATA[Setting the Plains]]>Fri, 08 Aug 2025 16:06:15 GMThttps://www.melodyepperson.com/blog/setting-the-plains

The Eastern Plains of Colorado must have been a breathtaking sight in the early 1800s—thousands of bison and pronghorn roaming freely, with endless waves of grasses rippling under ever-changing winds.

This week, I stepped into that history during a visit to the Plains Conservation Center, just outside the Denver metro area. There, I spotted several herds of pronghorn and even caught a glimpse of a majestic golden eagle soaring overhead. But what struck me most was walking into one of the recreated historic sod homes—“sodies”—humble structures built from the very earth beneath our feet.

Standing inside, I couldn’t help but think of my great-grandparents, who lived in a similar home when they homesteaded this land in the late 1800s. It was a powerful, grounding experience—connecting the past to the present in a way that felt deeply personal.

The land holds memory. Humans have shaped it, scarred it, and sometimes forgotten their role in its story. Without the vision of those who preserved this patch of prairie, we might have lost not only the landscape but also the lessons it carries. Places like the Plains Conservation Center remind us that we are part of nature, not apart from it.

]]><![CDATA[Flying B Bar Ranch- Abundance]]>Tue, 22 Jul 2025 23:02:46 GMThttps://www.melodyepperson.com/blog/flying-b-bar-ranch-abundance

This week, I visited Flying B Bar Ranch and was struck by a deep sense of generosity and abundance—not only from the land itself but from Margaret and Brad, the ranch’s dedicated stewards. They raise cattle here, but more than that, they nurture a relationship with the land that feels respectful and reciprocal.

Brad showed me a powerful example of this when we toured the edge of the property. On one side, his land was lush and diverse, alive with young hay shoots and the scent of healthy soil. On the other, his neighbor’s land looked more depleted and used up. Brad’s fields had already produced thick, green growth of new hay, and large rolls from the first hay cutting lined the property edge. The difference was striking.

As we wandered across the ranch searching for the herd—content and grazing near the river—I could feel it: the land was thriving, and so were its animals. That sense of joy was contagious. I was thriving, too.

Later, we visited the area where a tornado had touched down back in May. It was sobering. Hundreds of mature cottonwood trees were twisted and felled. The windmill was destroyed. The tornado turned just in time to spare the farmhouse. It was a reminder—raw and real—that nature must be respected. It gives, and it takes.

Through Dust to Apples, I’m learning that this cycle—of care, respect, and humility in the face of nature—is the foundation of abundance. The land, and those who tend it well, continue to teach me this simple truth.

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