Artist at Exit 0 Riverblog

My apologies to the ladies on the left who’s names I don’t know, but the guy on the right is “Steve”.  I had met “Steve” once before, last year, on the park’s western most border where fewer people go.  I was scouting a location for making a sculpture and he was knapping a projectile point out of glass.  On the riverbank, there is this “hail fellow well met’ attitude and so neither of us knows the other’s last name…as if that were important.  Today I was looking for birds and came across “Steve” waiting for a friend near the Interpretive Center.  We recognized each other and struck up a pretty good conversation.  Seems we have a lot in common.  We both grew up as military brats and our love for nature first developed in the woods of Europe.  We also share this idea that many of the ills of the world could be reduced if people would reconnect with their own innate creativity.  There is a feeling of accomplishment in being able to use your hands to make something.  That’s why “Steve” knaps projectile points.  Every one he makes is different.  You need to know and study your material, be it flint or glass, and plan how you are going to approach making the form you imagine in the matrix.  On the surface of the picnic table we were sharing he showed me some of the points he had made.

Most are made from local rock and flint found in Harrison County, Indiana.  I like the ones made from plate glass and Milk of Magnesia bottles among other river-given glass.  “Steve” also makes walking sticks and collects morel mushrooms for sale.  He also admits that despite being “residentially challenged” he leads a pretty rich life.  “Being 56 years old, nobody’s going to hire me.”  We talked about stuff I do.  How he has found several of my pieces in remote places.  We talked about birds and how he collected bird’s eggs in England when he was a kid. 

“Steve” asked me if I could identify the song an oriole makes when I hear one?  And on cue, one unseen in the woods behind us called out.  This picture of one of last year’s Northern Orioles (formerly Baltimore Oriole) is for “Steve” because he brought me luck.  We were talking when the Summer Tanager from my last post appeared.  I went off into the woods chasing beautiful birds and breathing in the perfume of blooming honey locusts.  This time of year one of my favorite flowering vines is in bloom and I associate it with the orioles.  It’s real name escapes me, but I call it yellow trumpet creeper…does anybody out there know what it’s called?  I’m sure I will see “Steve” again…we are alike in that we are drawn to the river.

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