A Wilderness Science and Art Collaboration

Aldo & Leonardo, a partnership between Colorado Art Ranch and the Aldo Leopold Wilderness Research Institute, is a project to celebrate the 50th anniversary of the Wilderness Act. The project is inspired by the scientific wisdom of Aldo Leopold and the artistic genius of Leonardo da Vinci. Our endeavor is an interdisciplinary collaboration of artists and scientists designed to celebrate the lands, resources and opportunities protected by the Wilderness Act. In 2013, we are hosting one-month residencies in six diverse wilderness areas. Artists will work alongside wildland research scientists and gain firsthand knowledge of the wonders, complexities and challenges of our nation's wildest places. The result will be a body of work that creatively illustrates the value of wild areas and honors the scientific efforts to preserve wilderness for the next fifty years.

Saturday, April 12, 2014

Noatak National Preserve Residency Interview with Andrea Spofford (July 15th-August 15th, 2014)

Floatplane return, backcountry trip two.
Bio: Andrea Spofford's essays and poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Vela Magazine, Revolver, the Kudzu Review, the Oklahoma Review, Red Paint Hill, Town Creek Poetry, Sugar House Reviewand The GulfStream: Poems of the Gulf Coast, among others. Her chapbook, EverythingCombustible, is available from Dancing Girl Press and her chapbook Qikiqtagruk: Almost an Island is forthcoming from Red Bird Chapbooks. A native Californian transplanted to the South, Andrea is Poetry Editor for Zone 3 Press.

Q: Why were you interested in participating at the Noatak National Refuge residency?

A.S. All of my work deals with nature and conservation issues, place specifically. Recently my focus has been on conservation and wilderness, but also how humans find their place in wilderness and how we define wilderness.

Alaska was particularly appealing because it is stereotypically known as this last frontier. Alaska is a wilderness area that I had never been to, and had wanted visit for a very long time.

I planned some Alaska trips, and they kept falling through, so I applied to this program thinking, “Wow, this is right up my alley.”  This is funny because Tama, Jess, and I were all recommended by friends to apply to this program. I read through the listing, and I thought that the Alaska biome sounded really perfect. It sounded like the goals of the residency—celebrating the Wilderness Act while exploring how we define wilderness and how we experience wilderness—seemed to be exactly what I was doing in my poems and essays. I am always trying to find my place in the natural world and reconcile my impact and influence upon it. That’s why I applied and was specifically interested in Alaska. I was very excited when I found out the location because there’s so much historical human interaction within the landscape of the Noatak National Preserve. Getting to see how people interacted with their landscape thousands of years ago was specifically appealing to me.

Q: Why is the intersection of Art and Science so important to you and your work?

Tundra and the onset of fall.
A.S.  Well, first I think scientific language is really interesting and I think there’s a lot of overlap between scientific thought processes and creative thought processes. I like to compare writing a formal poem like a sestina or a sonnet to something that has a very specific format—much like an equation. You want to get to a final product in as few steps as possible, but there’s an element of creativity and thinking outside the box that’s necessary as well.  There’s satisfaction with writing a sestina  that not only successfully follows the pattern but is also very creative.  I think there’s a similar thought process that happens in the sciences and I think there’s a specific part of the brain that both the sciences and the arts explore.

My writing reflects my interests. I read a lot of scientific articles and I like to steal from that language because it is foreign and exciting to me as a writer. I like to take these articles or issues and try to work through them in my poems and essays; at the same time, I like to dissect the language and make it something that I understand and that a layperson reader would understand as well. In that way I feel like a translator, beholden to the original as well as the new product.

I think there is a necessary collaboration between science and art when it comes to wilderness in that there is an element of subliminity experienced by both scientists and artists who devote their lives to wilderness issues. The overlap is great and it just makes sense that there would be collaboration.

 I write so much about environment and place that I see part of my made-up job description as being a translator for that. It seems it’s the same part of the brain that goes into vivid descriptions, and a lot of my writing is very vivid. The most exciting thing for me is to combine my personal experiences of abstractions like place and environment with very physical and concrete sciences.  

An essay I wrote about Alaska can be found in Vela Magazine; it addresses fishing but also ideas like, what is wilderness and how do we interact with wilderness? There are hard facts in the essay but it is also more thoughtful, philosophical, and tends to wander off into tangents—that’s one of the best parts about writing, the ability to wander.

I like learning, and that’s why combining science and art is especially interesting. It’s this opportunity to learn something I’m not familiar with; I mean I’m not a scientist but sometimes I wish I was. This has become a chance for me to explore something different and learn something new.

Q: What are some of your first reactions to the Noatak Wilderness?

A.S.  It is really large, and it is really, really quiet. Mike and I were the first floatplane trip out.  At camp it was just Mike, me, and the group’s gear. Tama, Jess, and Hannah were meeting us on the second flight. It was so absolutely quite out there.  When Tama, Jess, and Hannah arrived we could hear the plane from miles and miles away because there was literally no other air traffic.

That said, it wasn’t completely silent; we heard some loons and foxes and the sounds of grass and wind. It was quiet compared to the busy sound of Tennessee, almost painfully so.

Q: What do you believe to be a highlight to your time spent in the Noatak Wilderness?

A.S.  I think the three of us got really lucky in terms of the people we worked with in the Park Service. The Park Service employees in the Western Arctic National Parklands are some of the most generous, kind, intelligent, and wonderful people I have ever met. They went above and beyond to make sure we had an excellent experience so my trips to the backcountry became this magical time.

 In terms of the backcountry, going into the Noatak the first day, that rush of silence and how big Alaska actually is was amazing.

On the Nigu River, we got to participate in archaeological surveys. The day we dug exploratory 50 x 50 centimeter squares was such a great opportunity. In the pit Hannah and I dug, Hannah found an almost perfect atl-atl spearhead that was dated to about 4000 years old. The next day they found datable charcoal in the same pit. That time, at that place, felt like we were doing real archaeology. We were getting to learn so much about the people that worked with and lived upon the landscape thousands and thousands of years ago.
Prepping fireweed blossoms for syrup.

In town there was a day when we made fireweed syrup. We got up early, and Tama and I went with Norma Booth and Frank Hays to collect blossoms. Together we spent all day just making fireweed syrup and taste-testing it. Later, Mike and Ann and Levi came over for lunch.  It turned into this all day, hanging out in Kotzebue experience.

That night everyone came over to our house and I made the salmon I caught the day before. I caught my salmon off the seawall and it weighed about fifteen pounds after it was cleaned—it was a huge salmon and my fishing pole was broken after! It was just this enormous fish, and it didn't even fit on the cookie sheet we put it on; it was bent over in the oven.

All the kids in Kotzebue were so excited when I caught that fish. I think partially because I’m a girl and I caught a really big fish, but also because I was a visitor and I caught a really big fish.  They were giving me directions on how to reel it in because I had never used a snagger before and I didn’t even bring a knife. I mean, we weren’t planning on going fishing. It was just a group of us walking home and we decided to throw a line in and see. Once I had the fish pulled up the boat ramp, one of the boys killed the fish for me and cleaned it too.  The kid’s father said, “So next time you’ll bring a knife.”

There was also a day at the first backcountry location when we sort of took the day off to explore, read poetry, and fish. That day we caught trout. We had six trout when all was said and done. We caught them on a homemade fly. I had a lure and the fish weren’t biting so Hannah made a fly from materials from the surrounding environment. We all started catching fish with the fly that Hannah made—we were fly fishing with a spinning reel, which is pretty funny.  

This was totally the perfect residency and I kept thinking, can it get anymore perfect?

Q: Did the residency make any impact on the way you view the natural world, or facilitate ideas for future work?

 A.S. In terms of focus, my writing the past couple of years has really taken more of environmental direction. I just finished my Ph.D. in the beginning of the summer and my major areas of study were American literature and Environmental Poetics. I’m really interested in early American literature and contemporary writing about environment. I think there is a certain bigness to wilderness, and certain people are drawn to wilderness because of that. I think I’m really drawn to wilderness and gravitate toward people who are drawn to wilderness for that same reason.

Backcountry camp.
Writing about wilderness is just one of those things that is so large it is hard to put into words. I think this residency really influenced my writing. It helped me focus my ideas even more than they have been in the past. It gave me a subject that is really unique—wild in a lot of ways—but also a place people have been interacting with for a long time. There is not a separation from people and wilderness in Alaska; there are people interacting with their landscape. Ideas of ownership are really different in Alaska and I think that made me reconsider how I think about wilderness.  

Q: As an artist do you feel like you influenced the scientist that you worked with?

A.S. When we were in the backcountry we worked with Michael Holt who is the lead archaeologist and head of cultural resources as well as his assistant, Hannah Atkinson.  Having us around—the three of us who are not archaeologists—asked Mike and Hannah to explain things they may not have explained if they had been with a team of other archaeologists. I noticed the small details of things, but the types of rocks and the stories those rocks told were not as apparent to me as they are to Mike. I think the artists’ presence really asked Mike and Hannah to express these things. I think the thing they really had in common with the three of us is that we are all storytellers.  Jess tells stories through visual art, Tama tells stories though her photography, and I tell stories with my writing. Mike especially is a storyteller—a huge part of his job is telling stories about the way people interacted and experienced their landscape. I think Mike was excited to have us there; he’s so earnest and so invested in his resource and so willing to share. I think that quality can be rare.

Stone tools.
I think there is a question, especially in archaeology, about what we present to the public and what we hide away. I think when we present something to the public a lot of times the public wants to destroy it. But if we don’t present it to the public they don’t know that they should care about it; it’s a catch-22. Because they were so willing to share, I think Mike and Hannah took on the role of teacher more than they would have otherwise. I like to think that maybe they experienced the backcountry a little differently, not just from the lens of an anthropologist, but also from the lens of a writer, photographer, and visual artist.

I think we realized we were telling similar stories in different ways. We don’t do exactly the same thing but there is a lot of overlap in our goals and in what we value. 

Q: What were some of the beneficial outcomes of your experience?

A.S. I think the amount of work I produced is a hugely beneficial outcome. There’s so much more to say! I think experiencing this place, a place most people don’t get the opportunity to experience, was hugely beneficial to my creative process as well.  I also think that getting to work with Tama and Jess was fantastic. I don’t get to work with people who are visual artists very frequently, which is a shame. I think there should definitely be more collaboration across mediums and I really admire what both of them do. Just seeing and getting to hear about things from their perspective and observing what they noticed compared to what I noticed became very eye-opening. Tama is a writer (in addition to being a photographer) so I feel like she and I really bonded; we will always have this shared experience.

I also think getting to work with the Park Service was great.  Like I said earlier, everyone we encountered was dedicated, generous, and excited to share—that is really refreshing. The level of care for these parks demonstrated was admirable. 

Tuesday, February 4, 2014

Lots of new work from Artist Leslie Sobel (Canyons of the Ancients)

Check out Leslie's latest work!


Encaustic monotypes from my September 2013 artist residency at Canyons of the Ancients National Monument. One of the most powerful aspects of this trip was the dramatic weather and the impact it had on all of our activities. September 2013 was a month of huge weather in Colorado. In a wilderness setting where one is outdoors in an immense landscape big weather is an overwhelming and powerful experience.

Rain Over Desert
Storm - works on paper(Leslie Sobel)

Sunday, January 26, 2014

McDiarmid Aldo & Leonardo project @ Kennedy Museum

Wall Text:

you can find images from exhibit  at:


 scroll down to find the Kotwa Headress worn  by viewers as a means to experience space & terrain

Artist Statement Duane McDiarmid exhibition Kennedy Museum of Art Athens Ohio
In 2013 The Colorado Arts Ranch in partnership with the Aldo Leopold Wilderness Research Institute, selected 24 artists to commemorate the 50th anniversary of the U.S. Wilderness Act Sending these artists to work in situ with scientists and wilderness rangers in six different wilderness biomes across the United States and its Territories. 
I was selected as one of these Aldo & Leonardo Fellows and traveled to the 907 square miles that is The John Muir Wilderness Area. Located in the alpine biome of the Sierra Mountains, the John Muir sits within the 2,974 sq mile Inyo National Forest and is adjacent to the 721 sq miles that make up the Sequoia and Kings Canyon National Park. It is a remote and isolated place and for 30 days my mandate was to create my work while also working with wilderness rangers on the move in the field. I spent 16 days on foot within the wilderness traversing well over 100 miles and climbing and descending between 1000 and 4000 ft daily. I spent the other 14 days at the National Forest service’s Jack Ass Lake Cabin which served as studio, orientation center, and the base for Aldo Leonardo operations—located near the John Muir wilderness boundary and some 2hrs by car to the nearest cell phone reception, store, phone line, mail service or access to the electrical grid—the cabin was equipped with a propane refrigerator and generator that provided evening electricity.
The ‘Wilderness Act’ mandates the preservation of the ‘Wilderness Character’ of lands, and among its provisions is the prohibition of the development of roads, the building of structures, the extraction or altering of resources and the use of mechanized transport. Much of this can be implemented interpretively—but it is worth noting that I was inspired by Wilderness Manager Adam Barnett who suggested that an interpretation when discussing finding a campsite-- campsites are found not made...if you need to move pine cones or stones perhaps you are making rather then finding camp.  In light of these restrictions my response was to create an embodiment of wilderness character as described by federal legislation and in the spirit there-of I entered and encountered the Wilderness. 
Embedded with Wilderness Rangers I accompanied them on their official duties and roamed on extensive off trail solo excursions--Along the way I employed a series of props that like myself were both in and interruptions to wilderness. On foot in the Sierras I like others performed myself in reaction to wilderness while seeking a communion with it--and I like many sought an adventure with the environment that would be transformative. This came to include sharing the wilderness with a 19,000 acre forest fire which at lower elevations 7000-9000 ft. snowed ash and reduced visibility to well under 100 yards, My climb off trail to glacial fragments along the ridgeline above the Piute Plateau, and many other off trail excursions where I employed props and actions for others visitors or in their absence.
The Document presented here seeks to elude to a multifaceted experience, marked by a profound physical activity and space, and inclusive of a schism deriving from being both rejoined and forever alien to wilderness, all residing within metaphysical experience. 
To experience this document you may wish to swing the Chime-Can and wear the Kotwa Banner. To do so, free the Chime Can’s blue cord from the tripod hook, shift the Banner’s carabineer from tripod strut to your own belt or belt loop. Dangle the Chime Can from the cord 4—12 inches above ground features, and gently and without self consciousness swing the can back and forth while negotiating the ‘local terrain’. You may also wish to dress yourself in the headdress and loincloth. 
Transpiring within physical space and inseparable from material environment the mark is not made upon material—Through process and event, physical force and dream I allow the wilderness to sculpt and reveal I.
On the Aldo & Leonardo Project blog you'll find profiles and interviews with artists and scientists and samplings of their experiences and contemplations. My own entries here are drafted under the author name abracadabra. You are encouraged to supplement your viewing of the documentation here with learning more about the related art and thoughts of Aldo and Leonardo Fellows and to learn of my other actions in the John Muir Wilderness Area, that collectively make up the Kotwa Project.
Excerpts from the Wilderness Act:
Assuring that expanding settlement and mechanization does not occupy and modify all areas within the United States, Congress will secure for the American people and future generations the benefits of an enduring resource of wilderness.
Wilderness Areas shall be administered for the use and enjoyment of the American people in such a manner as will leave them unimpaired for the future use and enjoyment as Wilderness and the preservation of their Wilderness character and for the gathering and dissemination of information regarding their use and enjoyment as Wilderness.
A Wilderness in contrast to those areas where Man and his works dominate is recognized as an area where the earth and its community of life are untrammeled by man, where man himself is only a visitor who does not remain…1) a land retaining its primeval character and influence where the imprint of mans work is substantially unnoticeable, 2) has outstanding opportunities for solitude or a primitive and unconfined type of recreation 3) exceeds 5000 acres in an unimpaired condition, 4) contains ecological, geological, or other features of scientific, educational or historic value
Conveyed to us by Area Manager at our orientation
* nothing of human origin shall be left within the boundaries of a wilderness area with the exception of heritage objects of 50 years of presence or greater
* no mechanized or motorized transport (boats, vehicles, wheelbarrows) tools (power tools, chain saws, scaffolding, blasting caps) or devices (electric razors) shall be employed—as the use of these have been specifically identified as outside of the wilderness character in statute or subsequent litigation.
* no aircraft shall land or be launched within a Wilderness Area
* there are 5000 official and unofficial fire rings within the wilderness each contains the remains of aluminum foil.
* Any encampment within the wilderness area should be located 100 feet from water and trail—almost none are placed with respect to this mandate
* no fires are allowed above 10,000 feet—and currently there is a fire ban throughout the Sierra—given that conditions of  the forest are drier then a kiln dried 2 x 4 at Lowes
* human waste should be either packed out or buried 6 to 8 inches  below grade in loose soil—leaves from native plants should be employed as wipes.
* all foods soaps medications sunscreens or other aroma sources must be secured within a bear can

Wednesday, January 15, 2014

Site 16 and Site 5, A collaboration between Troy Nickle, Mark Jirsa, The Minnesota Geological Survey and the University of Minnesota

Photograph and artwork by Troy Nickle, geological notes by Mark Jirsa

Site 16
UTM = 62217/5325277  On Birch Lake, side of portage to Carp Lake.
Canada on shore to right (N), image on US side.
Mudstone and slate – here with strong slaty cleavage, pieces of cleaved rock
have been “jumbled” together at different orientations presumably by fault movement.

These are two of sixteen site specific works that were done in collaboration with Mark Jirsa of the Minnesota Geological Survey and the University of Minnesota. The work was initiated through a dialogue between Mark and I about how we could bridge geology with art. Through this project I accompanied Mark in canoe and on a 10km walk near our camp site on the South Arm of Knife lake in The Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness of Minnesota to document and map a variety of ancient bedrock crusts throughout the area. The South Arm of Knife Lake was of interest to Mark because there had been a fire there a few years earlier. This meant that much of the moss and lichen that covered these rock outcrops had been burned off, allowing the rock to be easily mapped.

For each site we created a square section approximately 1 meter by 1 meter, to frame different geological events and rock formations with locally found materials like wood, reeds and stones. Each site corresponds to a Universal Transverse Mercator reading. As Mark was taking notes mapping the site I would create the frame in the landscape and document it with close up shots of the rock within the frame and an image of the frame in context to the land.

Site 5
Interlayered white weathered sandstone and mudstone, B = N 10 E / 80 W
T= W

Below is a map of the area and the sites that we mapped and documented.

I express my deep gratitude to The Colorado Art Ranch in collaboration with the Aldo Leopold Institute for allowing me to go on such a great adventure and Mark Jirsa for making coffee every morning, sharing his jolly rancher candy and for his enthusiasm and knowledge of geology.

Wednesday, December 18, 2013

Around the Center

Artwork and Photograph by Troy Nickle

During my residency I created an intervention titled, “ Around the Center,” which was made in the Superior National Forest on a large stone along a path between the Ranger Station and the Vermillion College.

I started to contemplate the symbolic nature of this work and could relate it to when a stone is thrown in the water and ripples expand outward around the stone’s impact in the water. The stone’s impact creates energy and this energy radiates outward. This to me this also represented the energy created by the artists and scientists when they were able to learn about each other’s disciplines, collaborate and share common interests in nature.
From the creation of this work I began to consider what is at the center of my experiences in this unique place, and what surrounds this center? It is really absurd to try to define this center as a fixed thing because reality is continually changing from moment to moment. All phenomena are impermanent and therefore subject to change. What once was at the center of my experience has since dissolved with each new moment and as I have begun to intellectualize it, it is no longer what it was. Things begin to disintegrate and suddenly we realize that they do not exist in a fixed manner or exist independently but rather they exist in relation to, and in dependence on everything and are therefore interconnected. At the time that I am writing this, the ephemeral artwork that I have created has since devolved back into the environment and is no longer recognizable as an artwork.

The materials that I have used to create this work came from the needles of a White Pine and mosses that were collected from the shady forest floor. These materials could not exist without the elements of nature in balance creating the right conditions for the vegetation to grow. Without the glaciers that deposited this rock some 10,000 to 12,000 years ago I would not have a site to create this work. The White Pine grows in this area because of the well-drained soil and cool, humid climate of northern Minnesota. These beautiful trees provide food and shelter for numerous animals including, forest birds, squirrels, lynx, and wolves. It also provides cool damp shaded areas for a variety of vegetation like mosses and mushrooms to grow. Many people are drawn to this area to experience this unique beauty. Out canoeing on the water or sitting by the lake there is no need to worry about deadlines or being late for a meeting.  Somehow living in the moment and the simple experience of traveling on water by canoe, setting up camp, cooking dinner by fire and enjoying the sights and sounds of the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness feels liberating. When we can stop, breathe, and listen to what is around us, we are more open and receptive to the world around us.

While I was in Ely, I learned that an issue central to many people in the area revolved around the developments of a new mine. The town seemed to be polarized between those that supported the mine for their livelihood and those that were worried that the mine would affect the environment by bringing changes to the area that were damaging and irreversible. Many people depend on the area for a variety of things in order to sustain a livelihood. The mining companies depend on the valuable minerals in the bedrock while people who are supported by tourism depend on the landscape and wildlife for recreation activities such as canoeing, backpacking, dogsledding, fishing and hunting.  I began to think since everyone depends on the land and it’s central to the health and livelihood of everyone, isn’t preserving the landscape in everybody’s best interests both sustainably and economically? As Chief Seattle said, “Humankind has not woven the web of life. We are but one thread within it. Whatever we do to the web, we do to ourselves. All things are bound together. All things connect.” The development of the mine would permanently alter the landscape; affect water and air quality and take hundreds of years to fully recover. Does this outweigh the benefits that the mine will bring to the community? Are there other ways of creating jobs that won’t negatively affect the environment? And what are the prevailing attitudes that justify the development of a mine in this area? Aldo Leopold writes, “We abuse land because we regard it as a commodity belonging to us. When we see land as a community to which we belong, we may begin to use it with love and respect.”

As a stone strikes the water and creates energy, this unique residency allowed for artists and scientists to bridge creativity with observation and research.  While residing in Ely, Minnesota during our residency we learned of the complex issues regarding this unique community and have grown from our shared experiences. From our varied perspectives we are creating new energy to move forward to inspire others to be concerned about the future of our planet, to become aware of our environment and to bridge gaps between the divisions that separate us.

Photograph by Lawson Gerdes
A photo of artists Anaya Cullen (left), Troy Nickle (center) and Katherine Ball (right), at Sigurd Olsen's cabin near Ely, Minnesota.

October morning collaboration between Maple, Spruce, Aspen, wicker, wind, water and Anaya Cullen

It's a crisp October morning here in Ely, MN. I'm working outside the Cedar bunkhouse at the Kawishiwi Ranger Station where the three Artists-in-Residence, are staying along with Becca Orf, Biological Plant Technician/Wilderness Ranger, a Wolf Biologist, Firefighter and the occasional surprise visitor.  This is my first time experience the full changing of the color guard in the fall and the colors are eye-popping and ever changing, and contrasting brilliantly with the dark bark of the maple wet from morning rain. I weaving wicker this morning, letting my eyes taken in the color and my mind wander into making movement phrases watching the trees moving in the breeze. The spruce is practicing stillness mostly while the apsen seems to be working on allegro steps when the breeze kicks up. The dampness has actually become a collaborator at the moment, allowing me to weave for longer before the wicker becomes brittle and needs re-soaking. There is something about getting in to a good rhythm with your hands, doing something thumb-over-thumb like weaving, that I love. It’s meditative, and often good brainstorming or daydreaming time. 

I’m reminded of a poem I have loved for years by a Palestinian American Poet, Naomi Shihab Nye called The Man Who Makes Brooms...

The Man Who Makes Brooms
Naomi Shihab Nye
So you come with these maps in your head
and I come with voices chiding me to
"speak for my people"
and we march around like guardians of memory
till we find the man on the short stool
who makes brooms.

Thumb over thumb, straw over straw,
he will not look at us.
In his stony corner there is barely room
for baskets and thread,
much less the weight of our faces
staring at him from the street.
What he has lost or not lost is his secret.

You say he is like all the men,
the man who sells pistachios,
the man who rolls the rugs.
Older now, you find holiness in anything
that continues, dream after dream.
I say he is like nobody,
the pink seam he weaves
across the flat golden face of his broom
is its own shrine, and forget about the tears.

In the village the uncles will raise their kefiyahs
from dominoes to say, no brooms in America?
And the girls who stoop to sweep the courtyard
will stop for a moment and cock their heads.
It is a little song, this thumb over thumb,
but sometimes when you wait years
for the air to break open
and sense to fall out,
it may be the only one.

Beautiful poem, I think, painting strong images with her words, subtle in moments, yet bold in thought.  It’s looking like a downpour now, time to pack up the weaving studio and head for cover. Good morning. Amazing moments and the day is still new.