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SOUL IN THEIR OWN WORDS
Vivid Memories by Ryker Murdock
I was born and raised in Southeast Idaho on a ranch outside of Blackfoot . Growing up on a ranch you ’ re exposed to a lot of experiences . My clearest memories from childhood are working the cattle with my family .
I have vivid recollections of me as a young boy getting ready for the workday , putting on work boots and gloves that were always too big . We all had our roles . Uncle David brought in the cattle , Uncle Ronnie worked the chute , holding and releasing the cattle , and Dad gave them their inoculations . Grandpa helped where he could , and Grandma sat in the back of Grandpa ’ s old truck keeping record .
The air was filled with dust , annoying mooing of the cattle , and the smell of dirt , sage brush , and cow pies . I loved it !
My favorite task was in the spring . My cousins and I would watch from the fence top and occasionally move the calves into the chute . We even did some calf-wrestling to immobilize them for vaccination .
My last working visit was the most memorable , because soon after , Dad announced he was selling the herd . This long-standing tradition was going extinct . I got up early , put some old pants on , an old t-shirt , and grabbed my jacket . As I arrived at my parent ’ s house , I made my way to the garage . I worked in silence as I put on my work boots and new gloves , feeling the material flex against my knuckles in a perfect fit , as I flashed back to the years of wearing gloves that were too big . Stepping out the back door , I took a deep breath of fresh , country morning air . I was a kid again , walking out the door in front of Dad , ready to go . Memories of riding the motorcycle out into the fields flooded in as I drove myself to the corrals . As a little guy I started out riding in front of him , graduating to the back and then my own bike , as I grew .
At the corrals a light fog was hugging the ground in the cool morning air , and again I took a deep breath and catalogued the moment as I waited for everyone else to get there . The day wore on and the dust kicked up , just as it had all the years before — it didn ’ t take much for the memories to surface , working cattle with Dad and Uncle Ronnie . From the morning fog to the afternoon dust , it amazes me how the experiences from childhood can leave a lasting impression on our lives .
I have always been the artsy type , just recently moving to acrylics as a primary medium . I was surrounded by vast landscapes of desert , mountain , and farmland growing up in rural Idaho , which had to contribute to the subjects I prefer to render .
My favorite is detailed landscapes , abandoned areas and structures , as well as architectural portraits , with fantasy landscapes being the latest venture . I believe that artistic types see the world in a different way . When I look at fall leaves on a tree , I don ’ t see orange , red , yellow , or brown . I see all the different colors and layers that make up just one leaf . When I look at an abandoned building , I try to imagine the memories , secrets , and history that building ’ s story might hold , and I try to put them into my painting . Grounded in the vivid images of North Idaho ranch life , I want my paintings to take the viewer there , feeling the crunch of snow under their feet , talking to dragons , and going on adventures , like I had as a kid .
Scan the QR code to see more art by Ryker Murdock .
82 ART CHOWDER MAGAZINE