Winter has settled over the Colorado plains, wrapping the land in a quiet, snow-covered stillness. While nature rests, I’m reflecting on the art exhibition I opened two weeks ago at D’Art Gallery in Denver. This show marks the debut of my encaustic painting series, inspired by last summer’s visits to Berry Patch Farm, LazyB Alpaca Farm, and Flying B Bar Ranch. Now, my focus shifts to Springfield, Colorado, where I’ll be traveling with Jemena Peck and my mom to visit the land my great-grandparents once homesteaded. Jemena, a gifted documentary photographer, will be capturing the journey, preserving this chapter of Dust to Apples through her lens. In the process of researching my family history, I made a surprising discovery—the current owner of the homestead, Ty Sisson, is actually a relative! We’ll be digging into the details of our connection when we visit on March 18th. In the meantime, I’m fine-tuning my plans for the next phase of this project. Once summer arrives, I’ll be back to my weekly farm visits, gathering materials, stories, and inspiration. Stay tuned for what’s ahead.
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Currently, I am transposing the writing of my Grandmother Florence Hill. She is the grandmother who traveled from Springfield to Guffey to escape the Dust Bowl. As I read her words, I recognize her deep desire to share this unusual part of her story. Her words provide personal insight into the detailed preparation, careful consideration and courage that this journey took. I sense her hope, the risks they were taking, and even the loss of their leaving. Here is an excerpt from her story: We looked back on the land, once covered by beautiful fields of golden wheat. They were gone and only a vast wasteland lay to the mercy of the winds. Always shifting to and fro as though playing hide and seek. Always searching for a place to hide and rest as it raced back and forth across the prairies, a farmhouse, shed, barn, or just a weed or tree. They were being covered as the dust piled high near them. The garden, the important part of the farm was hidden under the dust. The tractors and machinery also seemed as useless now as they lay half exposed. Dry weather had started this disaster, and farmers had not farmed properly. In my final installation piece, I will use some of her words. Either through recordings that I have of her speaking about it, or through the stories she wrote. They are a true treasure of my family's heritage and our shared connection to the land.
When I went to art school, my mind opened to the countless ways artists express themselves. Everything around me seemed full of potential for my next creative adventure. I feel like I’m in a similar place now. Dust to Apples has become a gift of freedom and self-discovery, and I’m savoring this phase of the creative process. There are endless ways for me to tell my story.
Recently, I had the privilege of sharing my creative process with a class of college freshmen. Honestly, I think it was more of a gift for me than for them. It’s rare that I take the time to reflect deeply on my process and articulate it to others. What surprised me was how much I had to say about my art—45 minutes flew by in what felt like an instant. Right now, I’m reading two books that resonate with this moment in my journey: The Creative Act: A Way of Being by Rick Rubin and The Work of Art by Adam Moss. Both offer fascinating insights into the unique process of creating. My vision for Dust to Apples is beginning to take shape. Here’s a glimpse into where I am right now. The project has three areas of focus: my story, our collective disconnection and dysfunction with the land, and the healing that can happen when we reconnect with it. As this unfolds, I will be sharing more about my process in this blog. Until then, I am feeling full of joy. Now, back to the studio!  The plants are fading, and my time on the farms has come to a pause. When I started this project back in March, I knew almost nothing about which plants could yield which colors. Now, I’m stepping into the next phase: learning how to work with frozen and dried plants to create pigments. I’ll be grinding stones, dirt, and bones, making charcoal from branches—delving into new techniques and materials. Ink is alive. It changes over time, and that initially frustrated me. But this month, I realized something important: I don’t have to fight against this quality. I can incorporate it into my work. I’m developing a conceptual piece called Time Lapse, where I’ll allow the ink’s natural shifts to document the passage of time in the artwork itself. Time Lapse is a quiet reflection on what we’ve gained and lost over generations: the wisdom of seasons and soil, the traditions passed down through families—so much of which has faded with industrialization. As farming has become more mechanized, we’ve lost some of the intimate knowledge that once connected us to the land. This piece highlights those changes, holding both the enduring beauty of what remains and the sorrow for what’s been left behind. Stay tuned for how the winter months produce a time for more research, more experimentation and more opportunities to refine my final exhibition. June-August was filled with weekly farm visits and experimenting in the kitchen to create pigments. It's a slow process since I'm learning as I go, but I've had some great results so far. One of the highlights of these visits is spending time with the animals—Soph, Marsh, the alpacas, and all the others. I love wandering through the land and soaking in the atmosphere. I'm thinking of naming my next exhibit "Meander" to capture the relaxed, enjoyable experience of each farm visit. Here are some images from the visits from June- August. I hope they capture this feeling. P.S.I wanted to include an image of Judy Dogherty, my photographer friend, who graciously photographed the farms in July. She has sense moved our of state so she will no be a part of the project anymore. I will post her photos at a later date because they are lovely and capture the farms and farmers so well.  September is a time when the harvest is rich. I have been waiting for many fruits and berries to ripen enough to harvest for my pigments. The weekly farm visits are thrilling as we find abundant material that can produce inks. Plumbs are sticky but the color is rich, rabbit brush is in full bloom, and Sand cherries are dropping in droves. I can hardly keep up making inks so I decided to freeze and dry some.
I was able to run my first community event at a farm-to-table dinner in Adams County. People were so eager to try the various inks and curious about how they were made. I have one more event this year at Barr Lake for their Harvest Festival. I can’t wait to share what I am learning. I continue to explore ways that I can incorporate these inks into my own art. I have enjoyed drawing with them and recently I started drawing and painting right onto the wood panels and covering them with a layer of wax. This whole process makes me smile and I can’t wait to see the final product. September is a time when the harvest is rich. I have been waiting for many fruits and berries to ripen enough to harvest for my pigments. The weekly farm visits are thrilling as we find abundant material that can produce inks. Plumbs are sticky but the color is rich, rabbit brush is in full bloom, and Sand cherries are dropping in droves. I can hardly keep up making inks so I decided to freeze and dry some. I was able to run my first community event at a farm-to-table dinner in Adams County. People were so eager to try the various inks and curious about how they were made. I have one more event this year at Barr Lake for their Harvest Festival. I can’t wait to share what I am learning. I continue to explore ways that I can incorporate these inks into my own art. I have enjoyed drawing with them and recently I started drawing and painting right onto the wood panels and covering them with a layer of wax. This whole process makes me smile and I can’t wait to see the final product.  In March 2023 I made my first visits to the Farms that I planned to visit throughout the year. I will also say that whenever you start interesting projects you always find unexpected resources. I found one of those with an artist Jamie and her daughter Mikayla who was learning about the plants behind their hope in Bennett Co. She was my first “expert” and it was thrilling just getting started. The land changed for me on those visits. I realized two things in those days, one, many, many of the plants on the Eastern Plains are not native but brought here by humans. Two, I needed to really know how to identify plants not just for their ability to produce pigment, but for my own protection. (And watch out for snakes!) Here is my list of plants that do provide pigment: Black-eyed Susans Rabbit Brush Prickly pear Wild Merigold Curly Dock Choke Cherry Mullein Oak gals Here is the list of unknowns: Buffalo Berry-Shepherdia argentea, commonly called silver buffaloberry, bull berry, or thorny buffaloberry, is a species of Shepherdia in the Oleaster family. Native people used to make red dye. Plumb- The pits could be ground and used to make pigment Burdock Sunflowers Rosehips Coyote willow Sumac- This produces a pigment Below you see some of the amazing land owners and experts that I met in March. You can also see Larry with his alpaca and his angora goat. Drawing on my rich heritage as a descendent of Colorado Homesteaders, and farmers living on the prairie, my artistic journey re-conceptualizes the notion of "working the land." I am intimately bound to the geographical and emotional landscapes that have shaped my heritage. In 1922 my Great-great Grandparents moved onto a small piece of land outside of Springfield Co. It was a time of growth for the area. Between 1910 and 1930 the population grew by 8,000 people to over 10,000. They came because others bragged of green lush lands where you could grow wheat. My family were not wealthy people, they were simply trying to live. As I read more about this time in our history, I realize that my Great Grandparents made the best of what they knew. And we now know that the farming methods of planting mono-crops in straight lines and depending on consistent climate patterns led to the disastrous dust storms of the Dust Bowl. Photo: My Grandfather Hill and his brother Ted.   Photo: My Grandma Hill with Jack her first born. Becky and Larry Zierer with Sophie  Tim and Claudia Farrell with Melody and their dog.  Brad, Margaret Buchanan with Marshmallow and Melody. There are three main farm that I have chosen to visit regularly. They provide a diverse sampling of what is means to work the land.
The first one is Lazy B Acres Alpacas, an alpaca farm in Bennett Colorado. Larry and Becky raise alpacas for for their beautiful wool. The next farm is Berry Patch Farms in Broomfield Colorado. They are an organic farm owned and operated by Tim and Claudia. Finally is Flying B Bar Ranch, a grass fed cattle ranch in Strasburg Colorado. They ranch in ways that better for the planet, the animals and the customer. |
Melody EppersonA profoundly curious artist exploring what it means to be human through art and life. Archives
February 2025
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