Days 1-3: Towards Colorado Middle America and Crisis in Kansas.

On 10:15 A.M. on Thursday, July 17th, Stephen and I blazed a trail westward from Columbus. We had been at his studio until 3:00 A.M. the night before; packing, plotting, and recording one hell of an inspirational monologue from a fellow artist at 400 West Rich. The van was filled to capacity with the world’s largest Brownie camera, 5 tripods, 12 other cameras of various sizes and styles, Stephen’s homemade developing cart, a guitar, a ukulele, camping gear, darkroom supplies, and a cooler filled with food. 

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Brownie In Motion on location in Lincoln, Kansas
Brownie In Motion on location in Lincoln, Kansas 

We drove without cruise control, rolled the windows down, and chain-smoked unapologetically. Our only mission for the first day was to put as many miles between Ohio and us as possible. The first 600 dusty miles brought us through western Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, and Eastern Missouri. I picked out a campsite about an hour west of St. Louis, Little Lost Creek Nature Reserve. I really had no idea what to expect, and was pleasantly surprised when we discovered a secluded, shady site well removed from the highway.

Micah Chamberlain and Stephen Takacs taking the obligatory selfie before departing Columbus.
Micah Chamberlain and Stephen Takacs taking the obligatory selfie before departing Columbus.

            Upon arrival, Steve serenaded me on the ukulele while I prepared our kielbasa and canned sauerkraut dinner over a fire. We drank some tall cans of beer and waxed philosophic. I brought two hammocks along and that first night on the road found us sleeping suspended by pine trees. Camping by hammock is super comfortable. Normally, I sleep like a baby but late that night, I was startled awake by coyotes howling recklessly from what sounded like 20 yards away. Unable to fall back asleep, I nervously awaited sunrise, losing myself in the textures and sounds of the woods. Serious moonlight gently brushed the top of the old pines, cool air swaying above our heads. I listened to the crickets, frogs, and coyote as one listens to an orchestra. Breathing gently with the crescendos and lulls. Each creature instinctively knowing its place, without a conductor they perform in perfect time.

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The next afternoon, we stopped in Manhattan, KA to grab some food, recharge our batteries, and plot our next move. In Caribou Coffee tucked inside a Hy-Lee grocery store, it was decided that we camp at Lake Wilson around 120 miles west on I-70. I picked up a Go-Pro in Manhattan and I was excited to shoot some underwater footage in what was reported to be the “Clearest Lake in Kansas.”

 As the van eased through hills towards Lake Wilson, the sunset highlighted the rocks filling us with awe. Steve had expressed interest in shooting a wind farm, and on the approach to the lake the prairie landscape populated with giant turbines and the occasional limestone outcropping seemed perfect; the kind of landscape we were thirsty for. Inspired to shoot the next day, we slowly rolled around to the east side of the lake to inquire about a campsite.

 Lake Wilson, Kansas

Sandcastle found on the bank of Lake WIlson
Sandcastle found on the bank of Lake WIlson

Connie Cash was checking in RV’s at an info kiosk across the damn. Connie was the first person we made a real connection with on this trip. She was excited to guide us to all sorts of strange eccentric local attractions, the kind of things unique to rural Kansas. Following her suggestion, we checked into a Camp Lucas on the North shore of the lake. We ate apples and cheese in the cool windy twilight as we set up camp. Our plan had been continue to Denver in the morning, but, like an unexpected love interest, Kansas had seduced us with her landscapes, setting the stage for our first Brownie shoot. 

Lucas

            Following Connie’s suggestion, our first stop on Saturday was an old dusty town called Lucas, 14 miles north of Lake Wilson. Known for it’s eccentric art installations. This funky town in rural Kansas is full of limestone carvings, industrial farming equipment, old limestone buildings, and numerous oddball tourist attractions. From a giant mosaic sculpture of a toilet to the Garden of Eden – the residence of an early 20th century sculptor concerned with class struggle – I found Lucas thoroughly full of the kind of weird that only the rural Midwest can provide. (Inside of the Garden of Eden, the sculptor is preserved in a glass casket.) In Lucas, a 4th generation meat market making old school bologna and pepperoni from a 100-year old family recipe caught our attention as a potential subject for the Brownie In Motion project. The owner seemed uncomfortable with the idea but tipped us off about getting access to the wind farms the next county over.

 

Ceramic letter addressed to the Leo Castelli Gallery found in the center of the "Bowl" (Lucus, KA)
Ceramic letter addressed to the Leo Castelli Gallery found in the center of the “Bowl” (Lucus, KA) 

            An hour later, driving along unpaved country roads, we knocked on the doors of several farmhouses to ask permission to photograph on their land. On the third try, a greasy farm dog greeted us and a quiet old man gave us permission to shoot in his pasture down the road. A few miles later, we saw what we thought was a good spot to setup, tall grass and corn beneath massive spinning industrial wind turbines. The location was surreal, scenic, and reassuringly Kansas. Brimming with optimism, our dynamic duo pulled in and began setting up.

Behind the Scenes in Lincoln, KA 

            Seven hours later, things were very different. After battling with the wind, tripping on gopher holes, being harassed by biting flies, and baking alive inside the Brownie, it seemed failure was upon us. The wind was a steady 20 mph and the Brownie’s lens shook uncontrollably as a result. The first positive shots weren’t developing well, and then the negatives couldn’t focus because of the vibration. Stephen is a persistent worker though; despite the 94-degree heat, we kept shooting until we ran out of light. I was sunburned, dehydrated, impatient, and ready to give up after this flop. Our gear was splayed out in the tall prairie grass, making packing up an even greater frustration for the both of us. Sitting in the car and waiting for Stephen, misery sank in quickly. I didn’t feel like talking. I was twitchy and itchy from black fly bites, and could feel my tired muscles screaming for hydration. The silence was overwhelming in the car, my ears longing for music. I grabbed the ipod and desperately scanned for something to get us back to camp. 

BrownieField

            “Get the hell away from this nightmare.” I was thinking to myself. I was ready to tuck tail and head home, when Stephen offered me a pull of Black Velvet. Neil Young’s Harvest, a shot of whiskey, and a few smokes on the way back had us belting out each tune with reckless abandon. Our spirits rose high once again at the sigh of Lake Wilson in the prairie sunset. Later that night relaxing under the stars was all we would manage. A few meteors glinting in the north, and the great blanket of stars pulled me into sleep. We had skirted with disaster and made it out the other end. Even with a bad taste in our mouths, tomorrow back on the road would be a better day.

The road to Wilson Lake
The road to Wilson Lake

-Micah C –

 

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