Creative expression can surface anywhere, including in a back alley littered with dumpsters, power lines and stoops. I’ve stumbled through my share of alleyways, including the medieval alleys of old town Barcelona. But for true alleyway aficionados, Art Alley in Rapid City, South Dakota is the ultimate place to curl up in a doorway and swig booze out of a crumpled paper bag, while absorbing all the colorful and inspired chaos.

Art Alley is open to all who can wield a spray can, brush or broom. There are no art snobs, gallery owners or posers running the show and no fees. But like the open volunteer resource – Wikipedia – something inspired and useful emerges from all this chaotic and uncensored creativity.

The alley is continually changing as new inspiration overwrites the old. To view and uncover the previous art that now lays buried beneath layers of new art, visit http://artalley.awardspace.com/

A short history of Art Alley – A few years ago Art Alley was a typical grungy alley like thousands of others. Its transformation began around 2002 when, as legend has it, a man named Todd Rigione move to Rapid City from California with his girl friend, Judy Looyenga (a native of Rapid City). The back stairway of their apartment looked out over the alley.

They decided to change their view beginning with painting pictures over graffiti on power poles. Soon others joined in and populist artwork spread up and down the alley.

Next Stop – the infamous annual “Sturgis Bike Rally”

Most low lives can scratch together enough cash to buy a motorcycle and many do. Once a year in August over 500,000 of them converge on Sturgis, South Dakota for “Bike Week”. The rally is littered with tattoo shops, cheap food stands, bars and T shirt shops. It’s lowbrow and cheap, including most of the women.

But I like how every one, including the women, let it all hang out, especially their guts. There’s plenty of macho, but most everyone was cool and far more interested in making good times than causing trouble. There were plenty of cops around for any one who preferred to cause trouble. The rally has been held since 1938 and is the biggest motorcycle rally in the USA.

Sturgis is just north of the Black Hills and West of the Badlands. It’s an oasis of beauty surrounded by prairies and the great plains for hundreds of miles. The bikers roam free through the badlands and wooded hills like wild roaring beasts. It’s their week to escape the straight jacket known as the “normal life”.

I owned a couple of motorcycles in my day. But I never considered myself a “biker”. They’re not my tribe. But we share a love of roaming free. Roll on!

Next Stop - Peaking over the ridge at Middle Age Mountain

The long drive across South Dakota on I-90 is dotted with campy roadside attractions, old time car museums, missile silos, Wall Drug, and a recreated old Western town called “1880 Town“. With thirty restored old time buildings and artifacts, a gallery of Indian chief portraits and the story of the making of the movie “Dance with Wolfs”, it’s one worth stopping for.

Next Stop – the Stoned Presidents of Mount Rushmore

I went up the mountain to see the presidents who were deemed so solid and substantial that they were carved into the face of Mount Rushmore.

I wondered if their larger than life facades were justified. I think that Presidents Washington, Jefferson, Roosevelt and Lincoln did indeed deserve the honor.

Meanwhile our current president “G.W. Bush” is featured on the website Bush or Chimp. This site showcases dozens of photos of George W Bush side by side with chimpanzees who have an uncanny resemblance. It‘s hard to know who is mimicking who.

Of course, past presidents, Lincoln in particular, endured lampooning in the press. But lately our government does seem to be up to a lot of monkey business. Of course, it can’t all be blamed on the government. After all, politicians largely pander to what the public wants rather to what the country needs.

Meanwhile the self serving government bureaucracy and its leaches, such as the “industrial military complex” that President Dwight Eisenhower warned us about, continue to swallow up resources like a black hole.

America has gone from a nation of disciplined and industrious savers to a nation of borrowers and spenders. Who would have imagined that the US would come to rely on China to finance our consumer and government debts? The Chinese alone hold almost one trillion dollars in US IOUs and counting.

The USA currently buys more than 800 billions dollars worth of goods and services from the world than it gives back. This deficit amounts to about 6% of our gross domestic product (GDP). Up until now most of the world has been willing to accept IOUs from the US (bonds, treasury bills, collateralized debt, dollars etc.) in place of actual good and services. However, no less than the X Federal Reserve Chairman himself, Allan Greenspan, has said this can’t continue.

If foreign investors and foreign central banks stop accepting our IOUs and supporting the US dollar it will drop far more rapidly than it has in recent years. This would accelerate price inflation in the US and essentially lower the living standards of virtually all Americans.

I fully expect the US Federal Reserve will continue to inflate our money supply like a drug dealer pumping its junkie constitutes full of ever greater fixes to keep them from experiencing withdrawal and a harsh reality.

But sooner or later this day of reckoning will come. It has already begun in real estate and will it will soon spill over and adversely affect the rest of the US economy and then the world. Real estate agents, mortgage brokers and bankers have stampeded millions of people into bad purchases and loans like buffalos being herded off a cliff. Of course, most of the herd thought they were rushing head long into easy money. Instead many are going to have a long hard fall.

But let’s not forget the financiers and hedge fund managers. They’ve have been making enormous multi million dollar salaries and bonuses by enabling this stampede by lumping all these questionable loans into mortgage backed securities. Of course these financiers are not holding this garbage debt. They turned around and made money selling it off to pension funds, banks, hedge funds investors and others who were foolish enough to buy it. I expect these sophisticated financiers have taken their obscene earnings and safely stashed them in hard assets or foreign accounts.

The world now stands on a shaky mound of highly leveraged debt (derivatives) and inflated stock and real estate valuations. Virtually all booms, especially those build on inflated paper, go bust. I expect this current “boom” will be no different. Inevitably it will be Joe Q public, the US tax payer and those holding US dollars who will pick up the tab.

For an excellent article on this Big Brother swindle and the creeping facism in the “land of the free” visit “ORWELL’S 2009 – BIG BROTHER IS WATCHING” by James Quinn.

I’ve always had a strong contrarian streak. If the masses stampede right, I say go left. I side stepped the real estate boom and bust. I intend to side step the stock market “boom”.

Earlier today, on the same day that I visited the Presidents at Mount Rushmore, I traded all my US dollars for gold and foreign currency issued by countries that aren’t ponzie schemes. I trust that these past presidents of substance would reluctantly support my decision if they saw what a travesty their “Republic” had become. I think you can almost see it in their faces.

Next Stop – Finding dead Leones ashes in the Black Hills

I found the remains of Leone on a mountain ledge off a trail behind Lake Sylvan in the Black Hills of South Dakota. He was scattered over the rocks and the wind had not yet fully scattered his ashes.

I knew his name only because the coffee size can nestled in the rocks near his ashes read – “THIS PACKAGE CONTAINS THE CREMATED REMAINS OF Leone L. Dexter 4803 SUNSET CHAPEL MAUSOLEUM CREMATORY MINNEAPOLIS MINNESOTA”

Apparently Leone and I had both left Minneapolis recently. Only he made the trip dead and I was feeling very much alive. But some day I may end up in coffee sized can. If I do, I hope and expect that some one will take my ashes and scatter them in a beautiful place like the Black Hills.

I know virtually nothing about Leone. But I imagine he loved nature and left a small footprint. I dedicate the following beautiful photos surrounding Leone to him.

Next Stop – Finding amazing art in Rapid Cities’ “Art Alley”

For me the East turns into the West when you cross the Missouri River – not the Mississippi River. The endless farms trail off into the eastern edge of Missouri River and farmer caps give way to cowboy hats once you cross the zig zagging Missouri.

I love the West. It’s free. It’s hasn’t been fully tamed or broken. The land is largely free of fences, pavement and concrete.

The wide open West feels open, fresh and free. It unfolds the mind. You can become lost and found in its mind numbing expanse.

In the Chuck Wagon’s Trail

I was 21 when I first discovered the badlands. I was fleeing the grind of a regimented business curriculum and a full time job in advertising. I was up to my eyeballs in shit and trying to sell shit to others before I fixed up an old 1974 VW camper bus (the “Chuck Wagon”) and said – fuck it I’m heading west (or some loose equivalent). It’s still the best decision I ever made.

The wide open West was the perfect place to shed all the clutter. With each mile going West of Minneapolis/St. Paul I put more sky and land between me and all the crowds, posers, billboards and the ads designed to clutter your consciousness and make you ill with insecurity – all the happy bullshit. I left all the shoulds for all the maybe I coulds.

After crossing endless expanses of cornrows and finally the Missouri River in the middle of South Dakota I came upon the “Badlands”. They looked like the bottom of a gigantic ocean that had been drained. And that’s basically what happened a few million years ago, followed by a few hundred thousand years of wind erosion.

I felt like a space traveler who had landed in a completely alien and exotic world. I parked my VW craft along the fringe of the badlands and walked deep out into the canyon on a long narrow ridge. I came to the farthest tip of a ridge and sat down. I was surrounded by a panorama of eroded ridges and steep cliffs.

The sun was beginning to set. The colored layers of rock through out the canyon grew deeper in color as the bright white washed light of the mid day sun turned into a cloudy mix of yellow, red and purple.

The colors grew even more rich and vibrant after I smoked a joint. Nature was putting on a remarkable show that no amphitheater could rival and I had a front row private seat.

I absorbed every changing tone and color in the clouds and in the layers of colored rocks surrounding me. The canyon filled up with darkness from bottom to top once the sun slid off the horizon. The fireball sunset soaked the clouds in rich deep colors of red, maroon and purple blue as the clouds moved over the canyon like flowing lava above me.

When the fireball slipped completely under the jagged horizon the clouds and sky grew dark blue and then black. I had stayed for the entire light show. In the blackness surrounding me I could no longer see the ridges from the steep cliffs that dropped hundreds of feet into the canyon below.

In such total blackness it would be suicidal to try walking back to the Chuck Wagon. I was going to have to settle in for the duration of the night on this narrow strip of ridge with steep cliffs on to my right and left.

I laid back against the hard clay soil that had once been the bottom of the ocean. I watched as stars appeared through gaps in the clouds. The clouds were blowing away and night show was replacing the light show.

I think we often stay very busy to escape ourselves. But tonight I had all night and there would be no running away, no turning on the TV, calling a friend or reading a book. I was straddling the hard clay ground and exposed naked below 100 billion galaxies filled with 100 billion stars. I could almost let go and drop into them.

This moment on the edge of the world under the endless eternal skies that contain 100 billion known galaxies was all mine and mine alone.

I had plenty of time to think against the black infinite star light sky. I thought how it was my choice and mine alone that took me out of the maze of rigid college curriculum at night and the treadmill of selling advertising during the day. I was beginning to realize that life was not a multiple choice test but an endless essay.

I could feel my predictable life giving way to seemingly endless possibilities. Tomorrow would be a truly fresh day.

Flashback – Twenty plus years later

As I write about my first night in the Badlands, I’m seated at my table in Destiny parked in the middle of the Badlands on a gray and windy morning on October 18^th 2007. Looking out my window I see the pure and endless desolation. Like an Indian on sacred land, I have retuned to a special place of discovery and renewal.

Years ago I never understood what people meant when they said they “found themselves”. But when you’re lost and don’t even know it how could you? But when you run out of excuses and catch up with yourself, you will have found yourself. And hopefully the person you find is someone you love and want to be with or you’ll keep running.

Ever since my first night in the Badlands over twenty years ago I have carried my first realization of true personal freedom with me. That first night in the Badlands left a gulf between me and conventional life that was as deep and wide as the gaping badlands.

That night I felt I had escaped the maze, or as they call it these days the “matrix”. From that night on I felt free to zig zag and wander and I did for several months. I was a free rat.

In time I returned to college and finished my degree in marketing and I re-entered the “rat race”. But like a dog that’s once tasted red meat they can never really be content with dry dog food.

I’ve made my share compromises and sacrifices to be able to navigate the “real world”. The world only bends to our will so much. But I’ve remained conscious that my life and where I’m at is the result of my cumulative choices. I no longer wear the hypnotic straight jacket of abiding by conventional wisdom.

Successful people learn who they really are and what the world really is and manage to make them work together. As I sit on the edge of the Badlands writing about what matters most to me, I can say I’ve been largely successful.

I’m the writer and creator of my own story. I largely write the plot and choose the characters rather than being just a extra. Life is an adventure if we have the imagination to conceive it and the guts to live it.

Twenty plus years later, I’m still zig zagging down the road of life like a rat free from the maze.

Next Stop – 1880′s Town