Stripey Lake


    © 2023
  • Dimensions (in inches): 3.75 x 4 x 3.2
  • Materials:canvas, acrylic, paduak wood, paper, watercolor, ink, hot foil, leather, mineral specimen, copper, laser toner, book board, book cloth, mica, cast acrylic
  • Collection of:Archive and process materials for this work held by University of Denver, Penrose Library Special Collections


In Stripey Lake, an oft visited area is described with text and images in a rolling box structure. The five panels are paduak wood with inset watercolor paintings overlaid with mica. The structure is bound with canvas that has been surface treated with an acrylic wheat paste mix. The backsides of each panel or of leather collaged with additional hot foil line work. The text is positioned in the varying width hinge gaps between the boards and is laser printed on surface treated paper. Housed in a custom drop spay box that has two compartments. The left compartment holds the book; the right a mineral specimen held in place with copper wire and protected with cast acrylic.
There is a high mountain lake I visit when I can. I call it Stripey Lake. During my summer visits, I notice striped rocks on the lake beaches, striped fungi along the trail to the lake, striped bees in the trees near my camp. Situated just below timberline, the water of Stripey Lake is so clear the vegetation growing in stripes on the lake floor can be seen from the cliffs along the shore. In the afternoons I listen to the bees buzz, soak up sun & silence, watch stripey clouds drift across the sky. At night I gaze upwards at the long stripe of the Milky Way. While I walk the perimeter of Stripey Lake, I engage in a call and response chant. The lake’s call is one of quietude and solace. My response alternates between a sense of turning towards joy and a yearning to hang on to what I find there, somehow. Stripey Lake is near an increasingly popular recreation destination. The stretches of stillness that used to span days now span only hours. I fear they will soon be reduced to mere moments. It seems selfish to cling to what is left and refuse to share. It is all I know to do.