Call of the Giants

In recent weeks we have been taking small-ish road trips together not only to keep ourselves generally entertained, but also to remind Phil of how to be a mellow road dog.  Over this past weekend, we took a quick trek south to Bernheim Forest, just south of Louisville, to see some remarkable sculptures.  Being Derby weekend (and all of the debauchery  inherent therein) we steered clear of Louisville and managed to find a quaint bed-and-breakfast in the sleepy little town of Finchville, Kentucky.  Our host Regina was lovely and oh-so-kentucky, from her accent to her hospitality and genteel, no-nonsense approach to all things.  She allowed us to bring Philly which is often a difficult sell in the world of traditional B&B’s.  We were thrilled!  Tony  was excited that there was actually  a real breakfast on offer the following morning.

After getting settled we drove a little bit more to catch the waning open hours of the forest and to see these famed Giants before the forecasted storms arrived.  We were not disappointed!!  Below I’ll share a TON of photos of all three sculptures.  They are magical and mesmerizing on many levels.

The first giant to catch our eye was Little Nis.  Nis is situated at the shore of a small lake.  He is captivated by his own reflection and seems not to notice nor care about other creatures great or small nearby.

Like some strange incarnation of the Narcissus tale, Nis stares and stares into the water, while folks greet him, touch his hands and toes and take selfies.  We did all of these things, as well as taking a bit of time to sketch him too.  Sketching gave me a true appreciation of the level of craft and sheer volume of material these works entail.  Yet again, I am reminded that for me at least, sketching is a sure-fire way to hone my attention.

With limited time, and a desire to see all three giants with fair weather on our side, we moved on from Nis’s sweetness, onto his mother, Mama Loumarie.

On route to her little patch of forest, Bernheim did not disappoint, with educational signs along the way reminding us of all that is at stake just now in our world.  Somehow these dire concepts render me slightly more hopeful when surrounded by such a rich and well cared for greenspace.

As these giant works of art are made of wood and are exposed to the elements, occasionally  repairs must be made to extend their visits to their chosen settings.  Mama Loumarie’s lower extremities were undergoing such work themselves and it was fascinating to get a glimpse of the armature beneath the surface.

The mama giant rests against a tree next to her collection of bits and bobs from her travels.  She displays these in a magical way, an altar of sorts.  As somewhat of a magpie myself, I thoroughly enjoyed exploring the things she chose to keep and display in her forest home.

There were woven, nested things, and little vignettes of her treasures.  It was enchanting indeed!

All of this of course is down to the imaginal world of the artist responsible for these wooden creatures.  Thomas Dambo is a sculptor from Denmark and his trolls and giants can now be found all over the world.  He’s created over a hundred of them and there is now a book of them available.

I love this Mama Troll, in her moment of respite and self care.  Her gaze is far reaching.  I wonder what she’s thinking?

On we ventured through the forest and across meadows and even over swamp land, keen to see the third and final giant before the park closed for the day.  As it was late in the day, there were fewer and fewer fellow visitors and we were fortunate to come upon Little Elina on our own.

Elina is not a naval gazer like her brother, nor does she seem to have too much weighing on her young shoulders like her Mama.  Instead, Elina is arranging massive stones in a sort of labyrinthine pattern known only to her.

Elina has a direct gaze and seems to want to know her visitors.

She is relatable in a way the others weren’t.  I don’t think I am the only one to think this, as there were small tokens of prayer and wishing affixed to the branches making up Elina’s hair.  Much like the wishing trees near sacred wells over in Ireland.

I left a worry doll of my own, hoping to assuage a few of my worries for the world just now.

With little time left, we each spent some quite time sketching this final giant, grateful the weather held out for us, grateful for this time in a magical forest.  I look forward to painting this sketch eventually.

The evening afforded us a lovely meal at a Mexican restaurant on our way home to our little B&B.  We slept like giants ourselves that night which was lovely.

Forecasted storms did eventually roll in, and the morning of our breakfast saw an electrical outage, lending a sense of old time romance to our meal.  Our host took it all in stride and lit some candles while we finished our meal and sipped coffee.  We shared tales of Giants, some other guests regaled us with their Derby adventures.

The inn was built in 1865 and the staircase upstairs was especially evocative of an era now lost to the mists of time for the most part.

We all recommend a visit to these magnificent sculptures should you ever be near them.  There are also some just north of here at Aullwood Audubon Center in Dayton.  Tony and Phil have seen those, though I was likely at music school when they went.  I hope to get there soon.

Now, life goes on here back at home.  The weather, though occasionally stormy with the spring rains, leans milder and milder.  Everything greening and growing.  I am collecting my thoughts and ideas, readying for Taos.  We venture westward later this month.  There are some adventures planned along the way to which I am really looking forward.  Instead of nervous or anxious about these plans (which sadly, is often my default) I am instead nurturing an inner climate of curiousity  and flexibility.  This is a remarkable state of mind in which to find myself, miraculous even.  For that I am grateful.

Thank you to you all who have reached out with encouragement and cheering me on as I move along this ever changing landscape of being an artist-heart in the world.  It means more than you can know.