In 2013, I applied for an artist residency at Sleeping Bear. In my application, I wrote that I planned “to reveal place through symbolic details and frozen moments.”
Frozen became the operative word. The federal government shut down on October 1, the day my residency was supposed to begin. By the time the park reopened and I reached the lake, winter weather was also arriving in northern Michigan. Hailstorms pummeled me; ice formed in my watercolors. Wind crippled my fingers and sent drawings tumbling across the dunes. I was aiming for 100-200 drawings. I didn’t come close. The late start, dwindling daylight, and increasingly bitter cold forced me to leave after two weeks with a pile of incomplete drawings and field sketches.
An opportunity squandered, or so I thought.