- That solitary spike there, it's a pine sap.

My grandmother was a naturalist, and she'd take me into the woods all the time.

And she'd hold them in her hand.

She would say, "This is the glory of God, "right here."

(Piano Music) I couldn't wait to get out of New England.

When I first took a trip out West, I was blown away.

I could not believe it.

And that's when I saw the sign that there was no facilities for 100 miles.

And to drive from Boston to the Connecticut border is like 100 miles.

I was like, "Ah, this is beyond belief.

"I have got to come back."

When I moved here in '99, it was kind of difficult.

I've learned to love the prairie, but it was open and foreboding for me after being in forested areas most of my life.

The Black Hills are just amazing.

When I learned about all the places that are off the highway, that's when I really started to engage with here.

I've always done sketches on location.

Usually what would happen is I had a destination, and I would stop along the way.

I started out on the motorcycle.

I would do 500 miles a day.

That's a lot of miles on a motorcycle.

Your senses are so alive when you're riding.

Smells, sight, sound.

That's the closest I've gotten to meditation.

On December 6th, 2020, I woke up because I thought a bomb had gone off, and I jumped out of bed, and looked out, and my studio was across the other end of my lot.

The flames were like 40 feet in the air.

What that bomb was was my motorcycle.

The gas tank had exploded.

This person, whoever did it, lived immediately across the street from me as he would put in an accelerant, and then stand back and watch it.

It was definitely a violation.

Definitely a violation.

I sat on the couch for a long time, a really long time, thinking of everything that was destroyed.

(Solemn Music) Before it was demoed, I gathered a lot of stuff out of there, and I'm gonna have an exhibit based upon the fire.

I need to kind of exorcise all of this pain and confusion.

Why did this happen to me?

Why?

You know, I wasn't doing anything wrong.

And I got chosen, I guess.

I keep on thinking about how it goes from horror to beauty for me.

I was walking in my neighborhood and I'd seen this like funky old trailer, and not really noticed it.

And then one time I went, huh, I can make this into a mobile studio.

And that was something I could do.

I'm not waiting for anybody.

I'm not waiting for justice.

I'm not waiting for a building.

I'm able to work on this.

So once the trailer is up and running, then I'll be able to go out on location.

I think what helped me to connect to this place was finding those places that were out of the way.

I've been here long enough, so I know all the wonderful little nooks and crannies that the people that are driving by with their RVs will never see, never get to know because they're just on a mission to get to the next tchotchke shop or something, I don't know.

I realized I've lived here longer than the house I grew up in.

And that seems like a really long time to live somewhere to finally feel at home.

This one time I was returning to South Dakota and the end of the trip was terrible.

We touched down and I get out of the airport, and I can smell the sweet grass.

I was like, wow, I live here, I'm really lucky.

(Calm Music)