Wandering the lower hills as I do fairly often, I came upon a small rusty paint tin that at one time held watercolors and a brush and in the middle a mixing well. We have all seen them and perhaps used them as kids. I was on a no name ridge at the time of the find and was puzzled by the tin lying there. It had scribe stamped on it, but it was meant to be read from the inside of the lid; the lid that cannot be opened due to the rust and the trampled on tin by cattle.

However, being curious, I picked it up and carted it home. I held it up to a mirror as the stamped embossed letters show through the lid and looked at the writing. The stamped letters read: Binney and Smith CO., New York. Of course, I went straight to Google for the history of the tin and discovered an amazing history.

The company partnership of Binney and Smith moved to Pennsylvania in 1902 and became the maker of Crayola Crayons! I am guessing that tin was manufactured about 1897 before CO. became Inc. in 1902.

Was the tin in possession of a young woman painting the landscape surrounding her from this prominent ridge with a 360 degree view, or a young girl or boy doodling? There is not much reason for them to be on that little ridge other than the fact you can see much of the Tomichi valley from there. It is a great place to paint from, much like the natives may have sat there knapping projectiles as they watched for game animals like deer and antelope below.

We may never know, but I am guessing they both found a less rocky place to sit to dream and imagine much as I do about their world. The natives crafted arrowheads in an art form all their own. Painstakingly looking for a fracture line in a larger rock and hitting it in glancing blows with other rocks until it broke correctly for their projectile or didn’t. There are thousands of pieces of geological materials laying around that came from their endeavors.

The tin only has depressions for four colors, so an artist had to learn to mix colors to get the hue they were looking for. Primary colors naturally change to secondary colors when mixed, so a good artist can create dozens of colors from those four in the tin. That tin likely in 1897 was used by an adult I believe who had the savvy to adjust the mixes of colors.

It makes me smile to think of both the watercolor artist and the indigenous sitting among the rocks on that ridge and copying their world or engineering a new one.
The natives, although incredible manipulators of native rock, they traded for other types of rock from as far away as the Dakota’s. I found a tiny serrated-edged point of native rock called quartzite that is so dainty as it rests that it is hard for me to wrap my head around the expertise in fashioning it. The whole point wasn’t three quarters of an inch long and serrated perfectly from tip to tail and the flare to anchor it to a shaft was perfect. I suspected it was used for one of the 100,000 sage grouse in the valley or the many fish twelve to twenty thousand years ago. The shaft was long rotted away, but there lain the point in a wash.

The Paleo and Ute did not stop with tools they created; they drew on the rocks. Carvings depict the hunt or simply the lifestyles of the men and women. One I have written on and is in my book “The Lowdown From the High Up” was simply a human stick figure standing arms and legs outstretched to say, “I am”. Maybe he or she was depicting their shadow? Hard to know. The figure is pecked into the rock with other much faded pictographs near it. They were no doubt painted with plant dyes and then faded over time.

I rarely walk or ride horseback without looking down to see what might be there on the ground. Henceforth came the tin. How many times it was overlooked is anyone’s guess. We are so unaware of our surroundings as well as to the needs of those around us. I learned from my mother to be aware of the animals and that has translated to me in many ways including people.

Riding my horse one day with friends, I looked down and saw one half of a large spear point. It was broken I am guessing when they plowed road closure mounds of earth. The half projectile was around two inches long leading me to ponder the Paleo being there at 10,000 feet.

So I consider the artist sitting among the rocks on that ridge replicating their world, and the indigenous person knapping projectiles out of stone. Maybe they sat in the same spot? Perhaps their souls are touching even now for they are both artists of this valley.