Stephanie Peters

A few weeks ago when the ice on lake Icaria was melting, hundreds of geese and ducks were migrating through this little edge of Iowa.

Though we mostly saw Canada geese and cackling geese, we also saw greater white-fronted geese (lifer!), wood ducks, canvas backs, ring-necked ducks, greater scaup (lifer!), lesser scaup (another lifer!), red-headed ducks, coots, pied-billed grebes, northern shovelers, mallards, common mergansers, american wigeon, green-winged teal, northern pintail, snow geese, ross's geese (and another lifer!), trumpeter swans, common golden-eye, hooded merganser, bufflehead and this strange looking bird... 

Now I love birds, most of my travels surround birds, and many, many, of my paintings, are bird inspired... but I have a very soft spot for little mammals - Squirrels, rabbits, otters, beavers, and even muskrats. So of course, this muskrat became my new favorite model over the next few weeks as we watched the birds arrive each evening on the lake.

We did of course take thousands and thousands of photos of birds for future inspiration, but I was a little distracted...

Which of course led to sketching the adorable fur ball...

The ice is gone now (hello spring!!) So we haven't seen our muskrat friend around recently. And at the same time, our migrating waterfowl have moved on to the next stop on their journey to their breeding grounds. Lake Icaria is a little quieter now. But I'm still looking for our muskrat friend, because though there may be no ice to eat salad on, he'll be hanging around with us through the spring - which probably means more muskrat art to come!

Recently the universe gave me a little push of inspiration to create a new Natural Disaster Painting - and it wasn’t just the freezing temperatures that have been pushing me into hibernation 🥶

In February, the central part of North America experienced an arctic blast that plunged temperatures into below freezing for days. From frozen cacti in Texas to blizzard conditions north into Manitoba, it was cold... so so cold. According to weather.gov, “Over 3,000 daily cold records were set across the USA, with around 80 all-time record cold readings.” Here in Iowa, I experienced the coldest temperatures I’ve ever felt (-27F!) and blustery winds became a new normal.

Fortunately the weather changes quickly and although it’s still very much winter in Iowa, the temperatures are above freezing again and there’s hope for spring. But the Arctic blast was for sure a natural disaster - though minuscule compared to other disasters. But I feel it needed to be included in the natural disaster series. For all the hearts that were bruised and/or lost, this painting is for them.

I haven’t created a natural disaster painting in a while, not that there is a loss for inspiration for a new one with everything that is going on in the world - I’ve just been focused on birds and urban wildlife. Subjects that bring me joy and peace. But a week or so ago, a class asked me what my process was for making a natural disaster painting. A question I could easily run off an answer to a couple of years ago, but at that moment, I didn’t have the words, I just had the urge. The urge to paint this particular disaster. A feeling I haven’t felt in a long time. 
I’ve felt inspired to paint wildfire art, but that art has been more realism than abstract in the last couple of years. It has felt like the ability to make something abstract died in me – the candle burned out. I just didn’t have the steam. When I tried, it was mostly failures with a few cubic zirconias mixed in – paintings that at first glance look like diamonds, but at closer inspection, just imitations.

Though when I painted this, a flame was reborn. A deep in the heart knowing and awareness just reappeared like an old friend.

Abstract art is not just throwing paint on a canvas; abstract art like all well thought out art, requires a nod to the elements of art, design, and so on. But great abstract art – at least for me – has always been letting the paint flow from within – letting the subconscious tackle the rules and the conscious focus on the spirit from within. A familiar home that I’m glad to have returned to.
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Who knew freezing temperatures would lead me back to abstraction, especially since I’m more desert cottontail than arctic hare…

I'm pleased to share that Lost Kangaroo was juried into the Annual Arizona Pastel Artist's Association's exhibition. Usually this exhibit is on display in Sedona, at the Sedona Art Center, but this year due to everything, it's virtual! Which means more people get to see it! Check out the exhibition here.

I'm always fascinated by the spiritual and cultural significance animals have for certain people. In one interpretation, if you see elk in your dreams it suggests you’ll find yourself in the thick of something exciting or in a lot of trouble.  Since I’ve been drawing a lot of elk recently, they have been showing up in my dreams so I'm hoping I’ll be in the thick of something exciting and not trouble... though aren’t we all kind of living in both everyday? 

This winter has been perfect for hibernating. The highs have been in the negative numbers and it seems like every day it snows. So I’m pretty convinced every Iowan is secretly a bear because I’m not sure how else they survive winter every year without hibernating. Most days, I’m hiding inside wearing fuzzy socks and oversized comfy sweaters, and dreaming of sunshine… But some evenings when its above zero and not snowing, it is the perfect time to go find some geese – like tonight! These little sunshine moments make spending the winter in the arctic worth it…  

It’s still way too cold to actually draw anything outside, but Neil and I find ways to huddle in the car and sketch with our binoculars while sipping hot coffee. Tonight was no different… we watched hundreds of geese land on lake Icaria, and photographed and sketched a few:

All the geese we have seen at Lake Icaria this winter have been Canada geese. Tonight, we also saw seven trumpeter swans and a couple dozen mallards but mostly, it was hundreds of Canada geese flying in and it's quite a sight! Something to look forward to in in this otherwise cold and gray season. But, the temperatures are finally rising (into the 30s!), and the days are getting longer, which only means spring migration is coming soon and we'll see more than just geese... and of course all of these migrating birds - Canada geese included - are fueling my migrating bird fascination...

Last summer, before we came to Corning, Neil and I camped around western Iowa – I know, maybe a bad idea during a pandemic, but we were safe and stuck to only our camper to avoid any contact. One of the places we camped was Botna Bend Park in Hancock, Iowa.

Located right next to a grain silo, Botna Bend Park is a little spot of inspiration in an otherwise non-descript ordinary rural town. Not only is the campsite right next to the West Branch East Nishnabotna River (which apparently flooded extensively in 2019) but it is home to a herd of Bison and a herd of Elk.  One of the highlights of our visit there was when we first arrived, we witnessed the first few days of an elk calf’s life. Though very late in the breeding season, we watched how the newborn calf stayed isolated from the rest of the herd during the day and then watched it start to assimilate with the group when it was ready – which occurs around 10 – 14 days.

Typically, in the wild, elks give birth in the spring, but I imagine with the elk enclosed and fed well, their natural mating and birthing cycle is skewed – which could explain why we were lucky to see their interaction so late in the summer.

Each morning and evening, we would go out and watch the calf and mother interact. And of course, that is where the moment that inspired this pastel came from. Though I could have been anthropomorphizing the mother elk a bit, I could see how she cared for and cherished her newborn. It was an extraordinary moment to be a part of in an otherwise ordinary little town in Iowa. Though everything is extraordinary if you really stop and observe.

Whenever you encounter a river otter, it always seems like they are having fun. Whether they are rolling around together on the ground or diving for fish, they seem to enjoy being an otter. I’m not sure if there is another animal out there that really likes being what it is as much – well maybe cats. Cats have it made. But River otters seem to at least have a life of play. And that’s the kind of life we should all strive for. Make time for play and be oblivious to the stressors around us for at least a few hours a day.

That’s what it seemed my muse for this painting was doing, while I watched him dive in and out of the water catching fish then rolling on his back. It seemed more like he was playing with his food than eating it. No one told him it was disrespectful to play with your food and maybe that’s the secret to life, there is no bad time to play…

Kee Dee, Kee Dee is part of a series of bird paintings about migration. For more information about the collection, visit Migration Circle Bird Paintings.

Did you know our national mammal, aka the largest land mammal in North America - the American Bison is a keystone species? American Bison use to live across our prairie lands in the millions – some say up to 30 million bison once roamed at a time. And by grazing, they helped stimulate plant growth while their hooves packed in the soil and opened up new areas for seeds to take root. Pretty cool, huh?