A journey to the Yaak and beyond: a story of how a painting came to be
A journey to the Yaak and beyond: a story of how a painting came to be
In July 2025, I was an artist participant in a Big Sky Arts Center art and conservation event, sponsored by the Center for Large Landscape Conservation and American Rivers. It was there that I had the opportunity to meet author Rick Bass. He was in attendance with a most unique guitar. Crafted by luthier Kevin Kopp from a single, fallen 315-year-old spruce tree from the Black Ram Forest in the Yaak Valley in northwestern Montana, this guitar has become the voice for the protection of the Black Ram Forest and all other old-growth forests.
Rick Bass is an acclaimed author, environmental activist, and project manager of The Montana Project. “The purpose of The Montana Project is to preserve, promote, and connect Montana's craft, artisan, and nature communities so as to nurture and protect the natural resources, open spaces, clear skies, clean water, and wildlife that foster and inspire them.” (https://montanaproject.org/)
Along with the Yaak Valley Forest Council and its Climate Refuge Program, which “seeks to identify, preserve, and protect the landscape and species of the Yaak that are uniquely resilient to the effects of climate change” (www.yaakvalley.org), Rick is part of a group of humans dedicated to preserving and enhancing this important corner of the world. Rick is currently en route from Maine to Montana as part of the Green Curtain Road Show (https://greencurtainroadshow.org/). “The Green Curtain Roadshow combines art and activism to raise awareness of climate refuges and advocate for their protection through a series of traveling community art events, including music, poetry readings, writing workshops and more, centered on community-based climate solutions.”
At the July 2025 Big Sky Arts Center event, Rick spoke of his efforts to encourage artists to be inspired to spread the word about this supernatural environment. He invited me to visit to experience it firsthand, with a mindset of envisioning art in response to the forest and grizzly habitat.
In September 2025, I packed up and headed north with my dog and approximately 8000 pounds of gear and food. Yes, 8000 pounds. Over 7 hours later, and still within the borders of Montana, I arrived on another planet. Sasquatch is real, and he’s right at home here.
My lodging was at “The Shameless Oasis”, an assortment of funky billets in a clearing in the heart of the town of Yaak. (Fortunately, I brought my entire kitchen, as I believe the sum total of provided kitchen implements was four.) My accommodation was up some barely-there winding, rotting stairs, complete with a rickety landing/sort-of-deck, which had a view of the Bigfoot-inspired estate and many trees. However, my room featured a bathtub bigger than the kitchen, so any fears of discomfort were quelled.
Though the Yaak Valley is within the borders of the state of Montana, this place seemed a million miles away from my personal big sky landscape of sagebrush, cattle, and pronghorn. My first impression was that there were way too many trees up there; I had a near-constant feeling of being watched. I guess I prefer seeing my predators from afar (like a pronghorn), in time to make a life-or-death decision. And since I can’t run fast (like a pronghorn), I need a lot of time to process this decision.
That evening, exhausted from the drive and all this fight-or-flight processing, I fell into a deep sleep to the wind softly whistling through the oh-so-many trees. Did I mention the trees?
The next morning, after Rick stopped by with a large map with a few circled waypoints, I set out on my own to explore. I immediately got lost. This is a completely foreign notion to me. I was so sure that I was not lost that I was convinced that my car’s compass was malfunctioning. I know, the utter arrogance! Rattled by that foray, which included a moment in a haunted graveyard and (unbeknownst to me) nearly making an unscheduled nip into Canada (all down to that “malfunctioning” compass), I arrived back at “camp” to await instruction on a meeting point with Rick for a walk into the old forest. When the call came, I was instructed to drive north 10-12 miles until there was a parking area on the right. This road was fine and smooth, though the trees were growing so thickly that I imagined that there must exist some sort of sideways tree-hedge-clipper machinery that could drive down roads and slice back the forest. I was truly deep in a foreign land and out of my comfort zone.
I ended up in the right place this time and was relieved to find Rick. We then began our walk back into time. Rick is the ne plus ultra old-growth forest guide. The culmination of his years spent in this hallowed place was demonstrated to me by his deep-rooted knowledge of everything around us. With each step over fallen timber deeper and deeper into the forest, while listening to his words, I was beginning to appreciate the significance of all those trees. I felt as if I was entering an ancient hall of kings and queens, rulers and guardians of the earth. My mind was flooded with facts and feelings. Confronted with a terroir that embodied history itself, roots to a time that we cannot fathom, and connections to all things we are made from: stars and dirt.
Fast forward to January 2026, and I was still processing those moments, transforming them into art. I began to paint a triptych that in total measures 5 feet high and 10 feet wide. I originally envisioned it to be nothing but shades of green, but as I worked, all the colors of the rainbow began to appear, along with endangered flora and fauna, and a few grizzly bears.
As I progressed, I asked Rick if he would be interested in writing a few words about the forest that I might include as part of the painting. He accepted the challenge; I kept his forest thought poem close at all times to contemplate as I painted, and incorporated a few of these words into my painting.
I always paint with music, and the painting reveals the music. Quickly, I found that this painting dictated a gravitas that was best realized with music shaped by ancient traditions and composed in the present time. With a curious twist of fate, I was gifted the opportunity to experience The Attacca Quartet at a concert at the Art Mine in Basin, Montana, while in the midst of this painting. I use the word experience rather than listen or see, as it was a whole body-mind experience to be in a room with humans and music that filled my heart and soul. They played music composed by Caroline Shaw that made me feel as if the earth had shifted its axis, and I loved it. The power of their playing summoned down a massive thunderstorm near the end of their concert. They kept playing as the deafening booms shook the building and the rain pelted the windows.
From her website: “Caroline Shaw is a musician who moves along roles, genres, and mediums, trying to imagine a world of sound that has never been heard before but has always existed.” Her music is absolutely perfect for my old forest painting. Trees, singing over millennia, always existing, but never heard before. Her composition, Plan & Elevation: V. The Beech Tree, was on constant repeat. This music makes me want to howl: GROW.
So here we are now, painting finished. As I’ve told Rick more than once, “I don’t want to live in the Yaak, but it lives in me.” This sacred place needs our protection. Now more than ever before. The trees cannot speak for themselves. The history they hold in their roots and the wisdom they hold in their branches for our future are critical to our survival. All these trees: every single one is important. Every single one means something for our future. Every single one stands as a sentinel for our future. Sacrosanct: this is the name for my painting.
