Truckhenge ~ Somewhere in Kansas

The other day we decided to go to a local 'one of a kind' sort of place called Truckhenge. Michelle hadn't been there before but it sounded interesting and fun. It was both, with an emphasis on weird. 

Of course images conjure up in the mind with a name like Truckhenge. Later we agreed we'd imagined a big open field with trucks in a circle, like Stonehenge, but different. It was different.

The first thing we saw was this tree.

Next to this building.

Yes, more bottles!
And there the resemblance to Tinkertown ends.

There was no "Enter here" so we just entered a door that turned out to be the bottom floor of the owners home. "Hello?" "Hello?" A mechanical thunking answered us and a woman came out of a caged elevator (it was made from a jack-lift) greeting us enthusiastically and offering to show us around as her husband was out picking raspberries. 

Each painting has a name but I can't remember which was which.
They were everywhere, giving the feeling they were just left where they were finished.

KRAP SCRAP

The light side (yes, that was the name of this one)

A pond was excavated and these are some of the awesome things found there.
The 'steak' looking rock is actually petrified wood. 

She invited us upstairs into their home.

The floor is made from old (OLD) amazing pallets

The building is a Quonset hut. She hung all these baskets 'to hopefully absorb the echo'.

Then we headed outside. It's a big property (once a hog farm owned by a few generations of his family, but hog prices fell and Truckhenge came up).

"Those are bears. He doesn't make very good bears, they end up looking like pigs."
Indeed.

'Dragon'

'Our older guests really like this bus. See where it says Fuck school?'

Before we got to the truck part, we got to Boathenge. 

 The story, at least the short version, is that this was a hog farm. When prices fell, I'm not sure what he did but the authorities told them their junk was a clear and present danger in case of a flood. It apparently could wash down to the next town and wipe out every man woman child and building structure. So he said...more or less the same as the school bus and took each large object, buried it butt end in the ground and anchored it with thousands of pounds of concrete. And started making chainsaw art. And bottle art. And painting. And holding big parties. And opening their lake for fishing. And Truckhenge was born. 
Now you know.

I wish I remembered more of the stories here.
Each piece had an explanation that often left me a bit dizzy.

At the end of our tour we did meet the artist, who came across the field with a bucket of raspberries. We thanked him for sharing his art and he said that if, in these times of craziness, his work could distract people for a while and give them a smile on their faces then he was satisfied. 

He definitely had cause for satisfaction with us, we've been smiling about it ever since. 

One more person with a passion. A completely different vibe than Tinkertown, which had a sort of zen-y, sweet, gently humorous feel as opposed to this shout it out loud kind of in your face and slightly creepy aura about it. Two extremes expressions of art passion. I didn't have to love it to be impressed; I was, I am. Art evokes many responses and sometimes that response is discomfort. 

I think maybe I need to dedicate a trip to going around the country finding eccentrics at work.

Have a shiny Saturday. Do something sleevelessly.