Homestead's Artist-in-Residence: The Homestead Series

 "The Homestead Series"

by Judy Thompson

2010 Artist in Residence
Artist website: http://judythompson.mosaicglobe.com/

A Good Days Work. Wind, hail, grasshoppers and fire could all destroy a year’s work for a homesteader. Field work had its rewards when a bountiful harvest arrived safely. In “A Good Days Work” wheat is being stacked on the Nebraska plains.

Plain Women addresses the courage, resourcefulness and determination of the women who championed the settlement of the American West. Leaving homes and hoping for a better future, these women shared in the dreams and struggles of their husbands. These brave pioneers faced the hardships of inadequate housing, food shortages, prairie fires and isolation.

Working Trio.  In order to “prove up,” countless miles were traveled back and forth across the land, turning the prairie landscape into farmland.  This vast transformation could not be accomplished without the help of a faithful, dependable team of horses, oxen or mules.  A mutual relationship of respect developed between homesteaders and their working teams of animals.  Both knew that their survival depended upon each other.

Taking Root.    The first priority to creating a homestead was to make a shelter.  With no trees in sight, sod bricks were the best option.  “Sod busting” was extremely difficult due to the tangle of deeply rooted grasses which comprised the prairie floor.  Despite their crude appearance, a sod house remained cool in the summer, warm in the winter and offered better protection from wind and prairie fires than its wooden counterpart.



Sunday Drive. Owning land brought the hope of security, wealth and permanence. What greater satisfaction could a homesteader have, than to survey his 160 acres of land, purchased for $1.25 per acre with the additional investment of 5 years of backbreaking labor!

Editor's Note: Judy was an Artist in Residence in August of 2010. This blog is a continuation of her exploration of the Homestead Act and the Great Plains.

As Judy explained in her earlier blog, "Through my watercolor landscapes, I attempt to capture not merely a likeness of my subject, but also a “sense of place.” The Artist-in-Residence Program provided me with the unique opportunity to explore the history of the homesteaders while being immersed in the native tallgrass prairie. My goal was to create a series of watercolor paintings depicting the prairies during the time of the first homesteaders. My time at the monument included researching existing photos and records, as well as taking my own photos, and creating onsite sketches of the park environment. These references were used to create compelling compositions of the homestead era."

Homestead's Artist in Residence: Mel Mann talks about the process (Part 2)

Mel Mann talks about the application process for

Artist in Residence program at

Homestead National Monument of America (Part 2)

Homestead National Monument was created by an act of Congress in 1936 “…as an appropriate monument to retain for posterity a proper memorial emblematical of the hardships and the pioneer life through which the early settlers passed in the settlement, cultivation and civilization of the Great West.” Although part of the National Park System, Homestead is not a grand landscape but rather a historical site. Comprising the 160 acre homestead proved up by Daniel Freeman (one of the first in the nation), the Monument works to teach visitors about the Homestead Act, the people who took advantage of the cry “free land” to start a new life, and some of the difficulties they faced and overcame.

Knowing there are no sweeping vistas for landscapes or towering mountains or ancient trees, I decided my story needed to be about something Homestead uniquely symbolizes. As part of the stewardship of the Monument the decision was made years ago to return the prairie to an original state, one similar to what Freeman saw as he explored the area looking for a new home. Now the second oldest restored prairie in the nation, the land became the subject of my story. The wide open prairie with its border of hedgerow trees and creek side forest became the vista I needed to show the scope of the park. The details of flora and fauna seen by looking closely in the park tells the story of how small elements work together to result in the larger environment. Against this, signs of man’s efforts to use the land, live on the land and finally respect the land through continued stewardship.

The staff at the Monument carries out activities supporting the mission of this place, both the natural and human aspects, and I was able to involve myself and my camera in several. Following the naturalist for the bird and deer count carried out by volunteers, photographing local students collecting water samples for quality testing, creating pictures of people in period costumes making candles, holding a spelling bee, and weaving cloth. Removing non-native species from the prairie and planting heirloom corn using true horsepower. There was even a ceremony re-opening a historic homestead cabin attended by the granddaughter of one of the settlers, connecting the reality portrayed in old black-and-white glass plate images with the modern world of National Parks.

For my first presentation I told the stories of three western photographers of the period – William Jackson, Arundel Hull and Solomon Butcher – who hauled their large-format cameras and glass plates across the Plains and western mountains to record what they saw, leaving us iconic images that resonate in our minds when we think of homesteading or western exploration. My second presentation showed images I’d made of the Monument along with pictures of other results from the Homestead Act – land-grant universities, agricultural cooperatives, railroad lines and grain elevators. All aspects of how we adapted to what the land was teaching us while we were changing the very look of the land. My final piece will somehow incorporate this story into an image.

Experiencing this National Monument changed my perspective on the Homestead Act from a simple paragraph in a history book to a realization of how this action of giving away land changed the natural and social landscape of America. Seeing it through my viewfinder helped me learn to look beyond the landscape and see how story develops based on how I compose an image, watch for the best light, put the right subject in the frame or even arrange photographs in a certain order.

I encourage my fellow RMSP artists to research this opportunity at parks they are interested in or have a desire to learn about. With more time to invest in a park you will gain new insights about its character and features, insights that will urge you to better photography. Additionally, you will meet people who can give you story ideas based on their in-depth knowledge of the park, a knowledge usually based on a love of the area and what it represents for us all. More ideas and greater insight – a bountiful combination for any photographer!

Homestead's Artist in Residence: Mel Mann talks about the process (Part 1)

Mel Mann talks about the application process for

Artist in Residence program at

Homestead National Monument of America (Part 1)

During my time at Rocky Mountain School of Photography (RMSP) I realized that simply seeing something different was only part of the artistic journey, that bringing meaning to the vision is an integral part of connecting the viewer to the story of the image. It was with that challenge in mind I decided to apply for one of the artist-in-residence (AIR) spots offered by the National Park Service.

I learned about the program from a 2009 RMSP classmate, did research on which parks were offering (around 29 in 2009), selected a few I wanted to learn more about through my camera and began the application process. The AIR programs offer an individual the opportunity to immerse in a park’s environment, history, community, etc. in ways that casual visits just can’t satisfy. Most programs provide accommodations in the park that run from one to three weeks during different parts of the year. Rarely is a stipend provided although some consideration may be made for materials required for the final work; the contribution of an original piece to the park on a non-exclusive, royalty-free basis is usually part of the program requirements. Other aspects usually include public presentations or involvement in park educational activities where the artist’s work enhances the public’s experience.

What did I need to apply? Most of the parks required submission of an artist statement outlining what the artist expected to gain from the residency and how the park would benefit from their work. All wanted to see samples of your work but rarely more than six images, usually printed or on CD. And of course they wanted an artist resume outlining experience, prior residencies, awards, shows, etc. The descriptions of the requirements made the whole process feel daunting – who was I to want to be considered among all the other wonderful artists from all media who would certainly apply?

Remember the first time you prepared for a portfolio review or decided to show some images to an audience or simply put together an album for friends? If you’re like me your feelings run through a cycle that starts with “I’ve got so many images to choose from,” moves quickly to “Wow, most of my stuff is just crap,” transitions to “Is this all I’ve got to show for all these days/months/years of making pictures?!” followed by “Why did I get into photography in the first place?” and lands on a very few pictures you hesitantly decide might be good enough to share. It was with these feelings I finally picked images for my AIR applications, put together a very brief resume, wrote up an artist statement and bundled them all into envelopes destined for the various parks I’d selected.

Most parks have enlisted local artists to judge the applications along with staff members of the park, balancing the interests of portraying the park’s features with a sense of the type of artists who will benefit the most from the experience. It’s easy to think of such a panel of steely-eyed critics as a formidable barrier but in reality they are looking to help artists as well as the park. Many of the artists on the panels were in the AIR program at one or more National Parks. The judging and announcement times are all outlined in the application process and I found their responses to be right on schedule.

Several rejections later (all by gracious letter encouraging me to apply again later) I got a call from Allison La Duke, the AIR coordinator at Homestead National Monument in Beatrice, NE informing me I’d been selected for one of their 2009 artists, and wanting to know when I wanted to schedule my time there. Outstanding! Not only did I get selected but by one of the parks at the top of my list (I’m still learning about the Great Plains) and one near home as well. I selected two weeks in the spring and a week in the fall so I could get different perspectives on the park and started planning my summer.

[Photos by Mel Mann; taken during his residency.]

Homestead's Artist-in-Residence: Homestead Prairie Gleanings



By Judy Thompson

2010 Artist-in Residence

Homestead National Monument of America

Cottonwood Cows:  While at the Homestead, I encountered triple digit temperatures.  The hot, humid prairie offered little relief from these extreme conditions except for the few sparse cottonwoods scattered throughout the landscape.  Many times on the prairie, trees became personalities which were known throughout the area for their distinct ability to give shade to both man and beast.


I am a visual artist who is fascinated with the beauty and history of the Great Plains.  Through my watercolor landscapes, I attempt to capture not merely a likeness of my subject, but also a “sense of place.”  The Artist-in-Residence Program provided me with the unique opportunity to explore the history of the homesteaders while being immersed in the native tallgrass prairie.   My goal was to create a series of watercolor paintings depicting the prairies during the time of the first homesteaders.  My time at the monument included researching existing photos and records, as well as taking my own photos, and creating onsite sketches of the park environment.  These references were used to create compelling compositions of the homestead era.

Distant Harvest:  In my research, I came across many accounts of how the homestead life affected children.  For some children, moving to the prairie was an exciting adventure. However, many children soon realized that prairie life meant isolation.  Future dreams of careers as teachers, doctors, etc., were kept in check by their ability to receive education, and by the expectation for them to stay and work the family farm.   "Distant Harvest" speaks to the many sacrifices made by homesteader children.



Of the many interpretive themes of the Homestead National Monument, I am particularly interested in the change of ecosystem from the native tallgrass prairie to cultivated farmland.  I am also inspired by the individuals and families who seized the opportunity to settle the West through the Homestead Act.  My hope is to put these themes together into a series of watercolor paintings which will tell a visual story of this revolutionary event in our nation’s history.

Prairie Impressions:  Speaks to the colors and mystique of the prairie landscape.  Subtle colors and textures give a peaceful mood to the flowering, flowing grasses.

In October of 2010, I am scheduled to give a solo exhibition in Brookings, South Dakota.  I want to entitle my show “Prairie Gleanings” and will include pieces of work from my time on the prairie at the Homestead National Monument.

Trail's End: The perils of homesteading were great. Many who tried were stopped by disease, lack of food, natural disaster and poor planning. Hopes, dreams and lives were often shattered. The prairie landscape was inviting yet hostile to those who tried to tame it. However, through time, it is the natural prairie which survives.

Uninterrupted time to observe, draw, and paint a subject is an artist’s dream.  The Artist-in-Residence Program provided me with the exciting opportunity to experience the prairie in a very personal way and challenged me to capture the beauty of the prairie through watercolor. During my time in residency, I created an art journal (sketch book) of plants, animals, landscapes, and skyscapes discovered at the park. I included in this journal my impressions, ideas, and notes.  This journal will provide me with artistic inspiration for years to come. 

Editor’s note: Judy was in residence August 1 through 15, 2010.

Artist website: http://judythompson.mosaicglobe.com/

Homestead's Artist-in-Residence: This land, not some other

Mel Mann pictures shows how Cub Creek is a high bank creek, approximately 35 miles long, traversing Gage and Jefferson counties, NE, and meandering through the original Freeman land patent, now Homestead National Monument. In keeping with the mission to educate the public, Beatrice Middle School students assist the park rangers with monitoring water quality.

Mel Mann captured the harmony of the whispering water and over-head blind of burr oaks in this photo while shooting at the park as an artist-in-resident. While not the same scene the Freeman's witnessed over a hundred and forty years ago the scene does offer the same moment of dappled quietness.

Mel Mann's next photo is of the south boundary of the park, Freeman's Osage-orange hedgerow. The tree native to Texas was used to contain live stock. Vigorous pruning was needed to shape the trees into a living fence. Both an exotic plant and an important cultural artifact, the Osage-orange covers about five acres of the park.

White-tailed deer can be found year around on the prairie. The park conducts an montly deer count with 12 being counted in September. Last February there were over 100 counted.

Read more about Mel Mann's artist-in-residence experience by opening the link.

Homestead's Artist-in-Residence: Why this land and not some other?

An artist residency at Homestead National Monument offers so many opportunities for a photographer. What am I expecting to see? Obviously the land as it is today after efforts to return it to the original tall grass prairie Daniel Freeman would have seen. Around it, though, is other, similar land exhibiting the 150 years of agricultural efforts started by homesteaders. The contrast is very appealing to me as a way to tell a story through pictures.

by Mel Mann

Artist-in-Residence

My photography passion is the outdoors. After years in a corporate life my ability to be outdoors with my camera is very appealing. As many visitors have discovered, the land of the Monument is filled with visual opportunities. Here I am able to find compositions ranging from expansive views to tiny flowers hiding in the grass, from winding creek muddied with the silt of the ground to streaming clouds flying across the sun or moon. Deer and birds roam the prairie constantly, some shy and some gregarious. There is a rhythm to the changing land felt in the wind blowing the grasses into a waving surf and the light playing across the ground as clouds race under the sun.

What intrigues me the most about a residency at Homestead National Monument is the accessibility of the park. You can see the whole of the park in an afternoon stroll. Unlike other locations in the national park system, Homestead is defined by its history - 160 acres of land served as a home and business - not by the grand landscape. The Monument represents history along with being a place in history, a proxy for all the other homesteads across the country. It is a lens that focuses on the efforts of a grand experiment to return public lands to the country’s citizens.

I’ve roamed around the woods and prairie for two weeks during all times of day and night, observing the weather changing the light. Light is critical to photographers beyond simply illumination. It is the medium we use to sculpt an image, the way we draw the viewer’s eye to what we believe are the important parts of the picture. The variable spring weather has given me ample options for lighting from clear sky to racing clouds to overcast. Combined with patience afforded by my residency - wait a bit and the light will change - I’ve found compositions a casual glance might miss. Simply paying attention to what is going on around me and what I am seeing through my viewfinder. That’s a significant advantage to a residency. Not rushed into taking snapshots but given time to make photographs.

Through all this part of the wonder is whether I’m seeing the land like Daniel Freeman saw it. Not only the lay of the land, the wildlife and vegetation, but rather the possibilities held by the land. Why this land and not some other? Why these boundaries and not some other shape? How did he see the future of this 160 acres for his family?

To get benefit from his homestead, Daniel Freeman had to change it to agricultural uses. Crops meant food for family and market, trees meant logs for cabins and fences, clay turned into bricks for a more solid and weather-tight house. All these changes took a toll on the prairie, some that are evident in pictures from the late 1800s and early 1900s but not evident in the Monument today. Continued practices virtually eliminated the original shape and look of the land around it, though, as any traveler through the Great Plains will note. Terraced furrows of corn, soybeans, sunflowers and wheat now stand where prairie once reigned.

We are still learning the value of prairie as it was originally. Knowledge of the benefits from environmental diversity were unavailable as the homesteaders fanned out across this part of the country. The land as they saw it was presumed useless until the hand of man created value from it. Over the intervening time we’ve learned there is value in seemingly empty prairie, more than the crops that can be grown on it. There are physical and emotional benefits of being at a place like Homestead Monument, seeing the land as it was. Part of my photography is intended to capture the essence of those benefits and preserve them for reflection.

Mel Mann Photography, LLC

15418 Weir St. #334
Omaha, NE 68137
http://www.melmannphoto.com/

Homestead's Artist-in-Residence: A Day of Stories

The very first day that Nelson, my husband, and I arrived at Homestead for my two week stay as a storytelling artist in residence, I walked through the woods, along the river, past the tree line and up to the plow shaped heritage center. In the auditorium out of the sun, I watched the movie, which serves as an introduction to the exhibits. I listened to the grey haired lady speaking about her ancestors. She said it was a miracle that that the homesteaders survived. They had to battle the weather, the land and loneliness. They only survived, she said, through working together, as families and as a community.

By Sally Crandall

Artist-in-Residence 2010

Every morning, I practiced a little for the up coming storytelling festival. I was nervous. Would the audiences like my stories from Ohio? Thinking about the stories I would be telling, I passed the banners of the people who homesteaded and those who descended from those early homesteaders: Whoopie Goldberg, Lawrence Welk, plus a bunch of others. I usually made a stop in the staff library where I read about prairie plants as medicine and prairie plants as food. I read about the importance of fire too and about the prairie itself, and then I took a walk around the park, often stopping to watch the video in the heritage center. I loved to hear the stories of all the families. Watching Ken Deardorff, the last homesteader, so full of adventure and happiness with his young family, brought tears to my eyes every time.

The first day of the storytelling festival was hot. Kids came in buses and we told stories under the tent and inside the education building. At the end of the day, I walked the perimeter of the prairie land, up to the heritage center, and watched the movie again. Arriving back at our house, Jesse, who keeps the prairie a prairie, said there were severe thunderstorms coming. He said to call if we needed help. We kept the radio on, and the sky grew dark. The wind whipped the trees, the thunder rumbled like death itself was on the doorstep, and the radio station talked about finding safe places inside

Jesse, when he spoke to us earlier, said he wasn’t sure we could hear the siren, but we did. Nelson couldn’t find his shoes. I couldn’t find the flashlight even though I had just put it down. We pulled open the heavy door of the shelter and stood on the big floor mat, which says "Welcome" in 10 languages. I turned the battery operated light on. We thought about locking all four locks on the door, but, instead, propped it open with a big white bucket and watched the rain fall sideways and the hail follow. The closet at the back of the room held blankets, and ready to eat food and bottles of water, all under the watchful eye of Daniel Freeman in poster form, the first homesteader. This land had been his home. How many times had he witnessed the dark whirling sky and the never-ending rumble of thunder? The rain slowed. Nelson and I scurried back to our house only to find that Meredith, the park ranger, and Mark, the park manager, had tried to reach us, as well as Nelson’s sister and nephew, who both live in Lincoln. All those folks hoping we were safe.

Finally, the radio station broadcast music again. I went to bed. I was sure I wouldn’t sleep. I was sure I couldn’t sleep, but, despite myself, when I heard the spring peepers start again and when I heard a truck roll by on the road outside, followed by a car, I did.

The next morning, there were all the yellow buses in the sunshine. I thought it was a miracle. The tents were standing. The birds were singing. I walked past the banners of the homesteaders and their descendants and out into the tent packed with kids. There we were, all of us: teachers, parents, kids, retired folks, and park rangers. I heard the voices of the distance-learning children coming out of the computer. We were ready, eye-to-eye and heart-to-heart, for a day of stories, which, even in a time so removed from what the homesteaders knew, still have the power to bind us together. It’s not the stories that were the miracle, however. Stories are old and slow growing like the prairie. The miracle is that amid the hurry of our lives and the pressure in today’s schools, that so many remembered, set aside time and came to listen.

Homestead's Artist-in-Residence Reminisces

My thanks to Denise for graciously giving me space to speak to all of you. I thought I’d give you a little insight into how I got to be Homestead’s first Artist-in-Residence this fall, and how I came up with the program I presented while I was there.

by Penny Musco

My family and I have vacationed at national park sites for years. In January, while visiting Everglades, Biscayne and Dry Tortugas National Parks in Florida, I was inspired to start a blog about our national parks and what I learn from them.

In the course of writing and research my posts, I happened across the National Park Service page on the Artist-in-Residence program. Hmmm… wouldn’t that be interesting, I thought. Next thing I knew, I got a call from Homestead saying my application had been accepted!

But what to do for my program? The germ of an idea came when I applied for the residency. As I searched the park’s website for information so I could write a coherent proposal, I found this article on the nineteenth-century exodus of freed slaves, who became known as Exodusters. An estimated 20,000-40,000 of them poured out of the South, most in 1879 and 1880. Kansas, with its abolitionist history, was the prime destination of these African-Americans.

This was one of the greatest migrations in American history, yet I had never heard of it. I asked many people, black and white, if they were familiar with this movement, and found only one person who was.

So naturally, I knew this HAD to be my subject!

How to present this information became my next focus. After some back and forth with the Homestead rangers, I settled on writing and performing a monologue about a white woman from New Jersey (me) telling the story of her move to Kansas with her family to become homesteaders, and how she befriends an Exoduster.        

Then I tackled the research. I must have read all or parts of around twenty books (some of them children’s books, which provide information simply and concisely), about the Homestead Act, blacks in the West, women in the West, and the Plains states in general. I took voracious notes, picking up little bits and pieces to use to give authenticity and flavor to the plot slowly evolving in my head (the tale of the 1874 grasshopper invasion I owe solely to Laura Ingalls Wilder!). The three books I relied on most were Exodusters: Black Migration to Kansas after Reconstruction by Nell Irvin Painter; In Search of the Racial Frontier: African Americans in the American West 1528-1990 by Quintard Taylor; and especially In Search of Canaan: Black Migration to Kansas, 1879-80 by Robert G. Athearn.

Finally, I began to write. I wrote so much than I ended up with 42 pages! If I’d kept it at that length, I’d have talked for two hours! I reminded myself that first and foremost I was telling a story, and even though the historical facts were important, the characters were what would make the narrative come alive. A few days of editing and revising yielded a much tighter, more manageable manuscript.

After that, it was just practice, practice, practice!

If I was blessed enough to have you in the audience when I performed Steal Away, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. You calmed my biggest fear—that I would be boring—by giving me your full attention as I wove a nearly-forgotten piece of history through the fictional tale of an unlikely friendship. And when one of you said to me, “I’ll never look at a sunflower the same way again,” I uttered to myself the phrase every artist longs to be able to say: They got it!

Next year you will have a different Artist-in-Residence. Who knows if it will be a sculptor, painter, photographer or even another writer? My hope is that he or she will be as enriched as I am for having been at Homestead.