On a wintry evening in 2018, I was out walking with my boyfriend around the Downtown Bozeman Art Walk. It was cold, and we had ducked in and out of several businesses before we stepped inside Old Main Gallery. The first painting I saw held me still.
Read MoreWhen they reached the homestead in the evening, she found that home was a dugout cut into the side of a gumbo hill; a structure composed of fieldstone, cedar branches, and logs that sported a door and a single window. While he went in search of water, she made up the house with what little they brought and waited. Alone for miles, she sat listening to a host of new sounds that could not be seen at night.
Read More