Winter alpenglow on the mountain that towers over my home. Alaska’s winter scenery is truly unparalleled.

In the season of the least light, Alaska makes sure it's extra magical.

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Low to the earth, never reaching more than a few degrees above the horizon, the glowing orb of the sun seems so much more distant as it both rises and sets across the southern skyline in a shallow gentle arc. Casting through so much atmosphere refracts the light into fantastic pastels, a glowstick brush that looks like how I imagine Winter's smile must feel. Looong daytime shadows echo the duration of the nights...but today is the day that the cycle resets and that glorious bringer of light and life and warmth begins to return.

Alaskans especially celebrate the Winter Solstice because we've earned it, felt it in our bones, lived it through the extended darkness. Soon enough we'll be basking in the glory of its warmth and illumination again, with that heightened appreciation that living in such dramatic grandeur naturally imparts. Happy Solstice everybody. In the year ahead may we all bring more light into our lives.

You don’t need a mountain to get stunning Alaska winter light - any tree will do!

Our snow sculpture at the 2020 US National Championship competition collapsed just one hour before judging, thus disqualifying us from any judging results. It would’ve collapsed anyway. Read below for more.

Why spend so much time and effort on a piece of artwork that will soon disappear forever? It's a valid question, one that I've been regularly asked over my 15 years in the ephemeral arts. It's hard to respond with logic because the answer isn't necessarily reasonable. We're not being paid and plenty of people will never even see it before it's gone. In other words, the *tangible* rewards are scant.

We do this for reasons that touch on the very nature of existence and an acute celebration of the intangibles of life. It's so extremely FUN to make a sculpture of this scale in such a short amount of time. Sculpting in public makes this truly a performance art, and the appreciation from the audience of passers-by is both extremely satisfying and a core part of what this art form is all about.

And then there's the impermanence itself...the ultimate embodiment of the simple fact that nothing is forever. The only constant in the trajectory of our lives is change. Snow sculpture forces us to let go of all attachments to the final product. Fine details can disappear in days or even hours. The egoic desire for perpetual recognition and admiration is a non-issue due to the extremely short life span of the piece. These things cause a peculiar reaction within the artist: a much richer experience of the act of creating the work! I relish every moment of it. To summarize, we do this simply for the LOVE OF THE ART. This sculpture didn't survive long enough to compete, but was the experience for naught? Of course not! We still got to experience everything that makes doing this worthwhile, and 15 years of competitions have taught me that hanging one's happiness on judging results is asking for disappointment.