For three solitary weeks in October, I explored the texture and timbre of the Great Basin in Nevada and Utah - walking fencelines, dropping hydrophones in livestock troughs, listening to Junipers, and burying geophones in the Bonneville Flats. This three-week envelope of time was wrapped around a two-week residency, off the grid, at the Montello Foundation. Due to high winds, fast cars, and prolonged, deafening silences, the recording process was often more interesting than the outcome. Still, there is a body of work that came out of this time, and it will want to meet the world, eventually. Drive and Walking Fencelines are some early glimpses, in the Sound Art section of the webpage.

It doesn’t always register to the ear, but every place has a unique sonic signature built out of bird song, traffic, natural ambience and manmade elements. To listen to a place is to know it deeply. Knowing a place deeply is the first step toward understanding and protecting it. The Great Basin is as fragile as it is unrelenting. I wanted to listen to it, and learn from it.

Reckless winds, the momentary flapping of a raven’s wings, a morning cattle drive, and the occasional rip of a low-flying jet - this is the sonic signature of Montello in autumn.

It's not the wind that was loud, but the surfaces it encountered. I became sensitive to the manic friction of sagebrush, the edgy syncopation of doors and windows, the sighing stretch of the stove pipe, warming against the chill.

Sound moves laterally across the basin and vertically to dip into water - the low thrum of the propane pump at the Wild Horse Well, the surface disturbance of water, the soft trickle 18-inches down, and throaty murmurs from the silty bottom of the trough.

I brought these field experiences back to the studio to explore the intersection of sight, sound, and silence through a series of paintings called “Frequencies.” This has become a new direction for my visual work. The paintings are not yet something, but not quite nothing.

The day before the end of the residency , 400-head of cattle were driven along the south fence line by six cowboys and a thirty-pound dog. This was a monumental disturbance on the heels of such solitude.

After two weeks of listening and seeing how Montello looks, the last two days afforded a glimpse into how this place works - hardscrabble ranch land.

In Northeast Nevada, the days are long and deep. The sunsets are absolutely breathtaking. There is so much freedom to wander and muse. You can do whatever you wish in the privacy of a great expanse, but there is scarcity on every level, and, because we're in the Great Basin, it all drains inward.

Heartfelt thanks to the Montello Foundation, for providing the space and time to investigate this remarkable landscape. Here, too, one may find a sense of place.