The collection of Western Art is so immense that it spills into the upper level of the museum where administrative offices are located. Realism, classical and contemporary art fill the walls and depict cowboys, indians, western wildlife and more. One room housed sculptures byAlexander Phimister Proctor who has several works housed in Oregon, notably the "Rough Rider," a monument to his friend Teddy Roosevelt which is located in Portland. In this same room a video chronicled the steps required for Proctor to produce the monument. This involved a very elaborate and tedious process where the artist and his assistants had to re-create the masterpiece at least four different times-in clay, plaster, wax and finally bronze.
A few other pieces stood out. One was a wooden cutout of a cartoonish cowboy with a dog at his feet who was lapping up a spilled can of Coors (using an actual can) done by a contemporary artist, which I took as a meditation on the true nature of a contemporary cowboy. Another favorite was a sculpture in which two deer were stacked atop each other, the top one inverted so that their backs and antlers were locked together, interconnected as one. The museum also took an interactive approach in encouraging visitors to provide feedback. There was even a postcard making station and a computer program where you could blend elements of various paintings from the gallery and adjust size and color to your liking. We took advantage of both, me hoping that my art criticism could best that of a 2nd grader, whose rather elementary conception of form and theme somehow made it onto a placard and the museum wall beside the painting she thought could use less "scary" red coloring.
In an effort to actually enjoy each building and not merely endure them, we took a break at the local library. As far as libraries go (and we have seem many) this one was fantastic. It opened into a lovely fireplace foyer, had comfortable chairs, lots of outlet plugs, clean bathrooms and most surprising a live show.
We were seated on the far end of the library and hearing music, we first assumed it was some unruly teens. Isaiah went to investigate (hearing clapping) and came back smiling, with the report- "it's live." We packed up our gear and hurried over to the library meeting room. It was full of 50 people, 3/4ths of which, we would find, were the performer's family. Over the next hour we enjoyed Luke Ballard sing and play acoustic guitar. He had a beautiful voice, with great versatility, but as he admitted a limited, but consistent way with his guitar (meaning every solo sounded the same, except when he switched things up by whistling the would be guitar lines). He played self penned songs and some choice country classics. He was above all funny. He spent most of the set talking, before songs, after songs, in the middle of songs, to his extended family who were all there (even Aunt Marge) and cracking jokes. He was hilarious (and not too hard on the eyes either) which made his great singing and excellent song choice all the more entertaining.
Before leaving the best library we have seen yet we made sure to check out the free books shelves and view the stunning pictures hanging around the library taken by a local artist of his time in Burma.
Back once again at the Buffalo Bill Museum we walked through the final building which was full of paintings, artifacts, stories, information and interactive scenes concerning the Native plains people who first inhabited the area. It became clear that the museum was not hurting for funding (and how could it at $18 a pop). We entered a room large enough to be a movie theater. In it was a full size screen and on which was a beautiful skyline that gradated from sunrise to sunset. In front of it sat a true to scale tipi. In another area a wooden model had been made to resemble the more permanent style of housing non-nomadic Plains tribes resided in. Throughout the house were installed 10 television screens all with different landscape scenes as part of an ADD addled movie and a starry night sky projected onto the ceiling.
Deciding to spend the evening enjoying an icecream and some soda we ended up again at McDonald's. Though becoming regulars has been quite a stretch for a vegetarian and, by Wyoming's standards, a fellow vegetarian who occasionally dabbles in real food, we have been able to justify our outings as "cultural." Laugh, but consider that tourists don't go on urbanspoon to find the nearest McDonald's, while colorful locals don't make a habit of going to fancy pants restaurants (which in Wyoming means bedazzled blue jeans). That or it's an elaborate justification process for ignoring our growing dependence on soda....quite a predicament, but necessary to ensure you all are fully entertained by our stories culled from the road, for to produce these narrative epics, we need an Internet connection and a head swimming with caffeine. What was I talking about...Oh yeah, most McDonald experiences happen without note, this was an exception.
As we stood waiting in an extended line an irate man approached, shoved a hamburger in our faces and said "you might not want to eat here since there are flies in the food." Though I didn't personally witness the fly (I can confirm its existence) I have no reason to doubt his seriousness as he proceeded to throw the burger down on the counter in retaliation against the High Schooler cashier who, with her goons, had conspired to poison him. This was a moment when I felt very thankful to be ordering only a soda and an ice cream. (Flies didn't stop me from ordering a burger. Though when she asked about adding fries to my order, it sounded suspiciously like "flies").
At the Buffalo Bill Museum
At the Buffalo Bill Museum
At the Buffalo Bill Museum
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