Todd MelbyTodd spent the week of August 12-18th in Houston Co. as part of a week-long collaborative residency with his co-CAIR, Melissa Wray. It was an experiment to invite two like-minded applicants--one originally from Houston and the other from Minneapolis--to share this geographic and creative space together. Here is Todd's story: 
A couple of weeks before my artist residency’s official beginning, I set off for Houston County, Minnesota to document a rare service at historic Portland Prairie Lutheran Church near Caledonia.
I live in Minneapolis now, but was born in western North Dakota. It rarely rains in my corner of the Great Plains. It’s also flat and possesses a rugged, windswept beauty. So imagine my surprise — and delight — when I turned off I-90 and pointed my car south toward Houston County. The Sunday morning sun was still low in the sky as my vehicle began to dip gently with the changing topography. I saw hills with a lush countryside populated by bulbous trees. How was it I had been dropped into Grant Wood’s Young Corn? On arriving in Houston, Wood’s painting receded as I happily encountered remnants from a roadside party. On the west side of the road, empty lawn chairs sat next to a sheet of plywood propped horizontally on top of saw horses. Several red solo cups rested on top of the makeshift table next to a sign reading, “You honk. We drink.” Nice. Those are my kind of people. So were the worshippers I met inside Portland Prairie. Built in 1876, this country church was built by settlers from New England. On that morning, I recorded the sounds of parishioners singing their favorite hymns. In the beginning, I did this inside, near the pipe organ and a group of first- and second-row participants. Then I moved outside and held my microphone to an open window. The sound was even better, more evocative. Later, I interviewed some of the people who had come for the rare service, including Heidi Whitehurst of suburban Kansas City, Missouri. 
The resulting audio story, which aired as part of KFAI’s MinneCulture series, blends the singing of hymns and Heidi’s personal story. Her affection for the place and its people is clear. “This is what we’ll all be doing in heaven,” she says. Once my residency started, I made my way back to Portland Prairie to take photographs. Yes, I’d snapped off a few on that Sunday morning, but nothing compares to just-before-sunset light. A photographer once told me, "Late afternoon, evening light makes everything look beautiful." As an audio documentary artist who is working to improve his visual storytelling skills, I love getting advice like that. So I returned to 19th century church an hour or so before sunset. As I hoped, the steps were bathed in gold and small bursts of sunlight appeared on its west-facing walls. Large trees prevented the sunlight from enveloping the entire structure but light peeked through the leaves and created subtle spots of color. I stretched out on the grass for low angles, poked around trees for other views, avoiding straightforward shots. I clicked and hoped. 
The graveyard behind the church also attracted sunlight, especially the markers on the northern edge of the church's tiny, secluded lot. One granite headstone had a trickle of sunlight on its corner that seemed to crawl up to the word LAPHAM.
Once inside, the floors creaked as I poked around. Light from the west facing window wasn't streaming into the chapel, but it cast a touch of light on the curved, circular edges of the dark brown pews. Surprisingly, a south facing window allowed just enough light to cast a glow on a hymnal left by a parishioner just days ago. As the light faded, I pressed the shutter a few more times and quietly returned to the outside world. During my seven days in the area, the reverential time I had alone with a historic building was the most peaceful.
Also memorable, but not at all peaceful, was my time hanging out with bull riders at the Houston County Fair. Before the riders straddled a bull, attempting to hang on for a successful eight-second ride, many bowed their heads in prayer.
Here's why:
The most determined rider I met that night was Kevin Farrell of Austin, Minnesota. Although he’s been riding bulls for four years, Kevin has never hung on for eight seconds. Still, he keeps driving to rodeos and climbing on for another try.
Another person who has never given up is Bertram Boyum of Rushford, Minnesota. Now 99, Bertram grew up speaking Norwegian, attended a one-room schoolhouse, got married and became a farmer. But then he had a change of heart. After volunteering at church auctions, he decided to go to auctioneering school. Today, he’s Minnesota oldest auctioneer.
Since Bertram is a full-blooded Norwegian, I suspected he might know a good Ole and Lena joke. He did not disappoint:
I told him one of my Ole and Lena jokes. Maybe your know it? It’s the one where Ole ends up stark naked on the outskirts of town and Sven asks him why he doesn’t have clothes on. Anyway, as I was telling it to Bertram, I forgot the punchline, which is pretty embarrassing when you’re trying to impress a pro like Bertram.
All photos and audio courtesy of Todd Melby
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Melissa WrayMelissa spent the week of August 12-18th in Houston Co. as part of a week-long collaborative residency with her co-CAIR, Todd Melby. It was an experiment to invite two like-minded applicants--one originally from Houston and the other from Minneapolis--to accent each other's ideas, fieldwork and production.  Sarah Joy Wexler-Mann of Sweet 16 Farm with son, Sebastian. Photo by Melissa Wray. Just over a month has passed since the Crystal Creek Canyon Lodge Citizen-Artist Residency, and still I find myself thinking of it on an almost daily basis. I’m a contextual person, and often when I approach a project or situation, I move through what I like to call my “data-gathering” process. I gather insights, information, and questions from the situation and people involved. Once I spend enough intimate time with this information, I am able to internalize it to some degree. And then once I internalize, I am able to start distilling my thoughts, questions, or decisions from this internal map. The residency was a week-long data-gathering process for me. I was completely immersed in it, spending 14 hours conducting interviews (not including prep and research) with 16 people (and a handful of pigs), drove around 300 miles in Houston County alone traveling to and from interviews and residency commitments, and visited six different towns (and even more townships) within Houston County. I talked to a wide variety of people including organic hog farmers (hence those pigs I interviewed), a dairy farmer, a pastor, historians, a volunteer firefighter, a journalist, a politician, an organic whiskey distiller, and an owl enthusiast. Now, that’s a lot of information. But what did I really take away from this experience? Here are a few sentiments that are starting to distill within me as time moves on.  Dayna and Nick Burtness Nguyen at Nettle Valley Farm. Photo by Melissa Wray. Surprise I grew up in Houston County, and visit frequently, so I know many faces, places, and businesses in the area. However, I continually found myself pleasantly surprised throughout the residency, meeting even more people and businesses doing amazing things for community. For example Sweet 16 Farm run by Sarah Joy Wexler-Mann and her partner Daniel Drazkowski. Or Dayna and Nick Burtness Nguyen and their pastured pig farm, Nettle Valley Farm. And then there’s the International Owl Center in Houston, MN. These are just a few of the many amazing people I was able to interview. I feel endlessly lucky that I got to meet and spend time with these individuals and businesses in my hometown county. Growth This experience was full of many firsts for me. It was my first artist residency from the side of the artist. It was my first community to gather audio from for a podcast I’m hoping to start. Audio is a relatively new art form to me, and I’m entirely self-taught with audio recording and editing. During this residency, I learned so much about the world of audio from my residency collaborator, Todd Melby. He spent time walking me through some audio editing tutorials, gave me tips on interviewing and field work, and talked through some of my podcast ideas with me. I am so grateful to him for teaching me the ways of audio journalism  Melissa interviewing some pigs at Nettle Valley Farm. Photo by Dayna Burtness Nguyen. Rural Roots I’m already pretty passionate about my rural roots in Houston County, and this residency brought that out even more in me. When I look at my hometown county, and other rural areas in Minnesota, I see so much potential. These rural areas are teeming with community builders, creatives, and entrepreneurs doing interesting things; but I’ve found that there is often a lack of support of, communication between, or opportunities for these people and their work. I was raised by parents who instilled in my siblings and I a sense of entrepreneurism and community responsibility. That said, I am now able to see more ways I can add to and support this community: through my upcoming podcast, through my work in the arts, through the experience and connections gleaned from my masters in Arts & Cultural Leadership at the U of MN. Since the residency, I’ve become even more sure that my work in the arts and as a community will greatly revolve around lifting up, highlighting, and supporting the work of rural community builders, artists and entrepreneurs.  A foggy evening drive. Photo by Melissa Wray. Community This whole project has always been about one main thing for me: community. I am my happiest and most fulfilled when I am a part of something bigger than myself, and for me, that something has always been community. Through this artist residency, I have grown my definition of community. It exists in so many places: churches, families, city government, neighboring farms, swimming groups, school, coffee shops, art studios… we could keep going. Really, the only magic ingredient that community needs is people. People who connect over something, and then through that connection are able to grow and expand their horizons to build something together. Thank you to every single community that welcomed me in during this residency; you make me want to say all the corny, sentimental, and absolutely genuine things, such as this: you have my heart.  Photo by Melissa Wray. And finally: gratitude. I will leave you with this photo and caption that I posted on my last day of the residency, as it still sums everything up:
“Houston County: thank you. Crystal Creek Canyon Lodge Artist Residency: thank you. Mama Nature: thank you. This last week has been inspiring and overwhelming and thought provoking and all I can say is thank you, thank you, thank you.” |
Citizen-ArtistsAs part of our residency program, each CAIR is asked to submit a reflection on their week-long experience in Houston Co. These are their stories. Archives
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