Unlike most other rivers that wind through a few canyons and then exit the Rockies, the Salmon clings to the high country and wraps around the subranges of central Idaho. It flows not away from the backbone of the West but toward it in an erratic route whose final outcome could be anyone’s guess. Running north, east, then north again, it confronts the Continental Divide a full 174 miles below the river’s source and then reorients toward the Pacific and crosscuts the width of Idaho’s mountainous heart…No other stream in America displays so much mountain country. (America by Rivers, Tim Palmer, p. 181)

A Tony Foster Painting
Tony Foster painting
The Salmon River is one of the largest wild rivers in the United States. Four hundred and six miles long, with its source at 9000 feet in the Sawtooth Mountains, the river descends through mountain canyons, agriculture land and scenic valleys to 750 feet where it joins the Snake River at the Idaho / Oregon border. The entire river resides in the state of Idaho, much of it wilderness--moving through The River of No Return wilderness and six National Forests chiseling landscape, determining borders and affecting all who come into contact with it. The river is not only a compelling physical presence but is also symbolic--exemplifying the contradictions and controversies that constitute the American West in the 21st century. It is at the center of both debate and celebration. It has been taken for granted by some and scrutinized by others.

At its headwaters, scenic easements and a federally designated National Recreation Area have preserved the Salmon’s flavor but not its pristine habitat. Redfish Lake is no longer home to hundreds of thousands of sockeye salmon returning to spawn after an 850 mile journey from the ocean. (By one person’s count, 278 diversions affect the migrating fish each year.) For over a decade, a debate has simmered as ranchers and Native tribes, environmentalists and aluminum companies, government scientists and local mayors battle about how best to implement the Endangered Species Act that protects these fish from extinction. Fish have been barged, diverted through fish ladders, poked at by scientists and a new non-native species has been introduced. The fish remain on the list of Endangered Species.

Simultaneously, the whitewaters of the Salmon that once discouraged Lewis and Clark today embody the ultimate in backcountry adventure. The Middle Fork of the Salmon River is a destination for vacationers who have their hearts set on exhilaration, serenity and a taste of wilderness that exists only on certain places on the globe. Golden eagles, black bear, gray wolves and cougars can be spotted along this river, as can old mining shacks and small cottages. In addition to the expanse of wilderness and miles of roadless area, the river is also home to communities both large and small. Places that were intentionally settled upon the riverbank and were once dependent on the mining and logging industries, today struggle to develop a tourist industry. Ranches up and down the river pull water out to irrigate crops and grazing land for cows. The precious water that results from each spring’s snowmelt feeds countless number of species and a growing number of industries nearly contradicting the notion of a free and “wild” waterway. Despite this responsibility, if a natural resource can be attributed with such a characteristic, the Salmon River remains a place of promise and energy, a source of real dependency and a symbol of a changing, challenged West.

The Salmon River
Terry Evans photograph
The intention of the Sun Valley Center’s Whole Salmon project was to explore the impact of the Salmon River—its’ influence on human population and in turn the human impact on the river. It is was not the project’s intention to solely focus on contemporary environmental issues, nor to wax poetic about the natural beauty and physical magnificence of the river. Instead, the hope was to sketch out a fuller, more comprehensive look at the river and its impact on those that live within its reach. Through the eyes of artists, a writer and a musician, The Whole Salmon presents both the past and the present scope of the Salmon River. Each of the creative participants selected for the project were charged with exploring a different aspect of the river’s reach. A purely visual look at the river’s geography and topography as it stands today was taken on by British watercolor artist Tony Foster who floated the entirety of the river and executed one painting a day. The documentary aspect that recorded the people who live along the river has been produced by photographer Terry Evans who spent time in the communities of Salmon, Stanley and Whitebird. A historical and anthropological view is offered by Native American journalist Mark Trahant who came of age fishing the river and has been writing about land and land use for a decade. A personal, abstract interpretation was created by clarinetist / composer Evan Ziporyn who wrote a piece of music in response to his experience along the Salmon.

With the exception of Mark Trahant whose life has in part been shaped by his relationship with the river, each of these individuals were looking at the river with fresh eyes and varying personal perspectives. What has resulted is a project and exhibition that is as fraught with contradictions as it is filled with beauty. Tony Foster’s watercolor diaries are beautiful, poetic glimpses of wilderness and water— the romantic, pure image we all hold of the country we have chosen to live in. What he does not show and what Mark Trahant’s essay so succinctly explores, is how centuries of people have interacted with that very landscape and, in some places, have altered it permanently. In a very short period of time Terry Evans, with the help of her guides, was able to capture, digest and recompose the human history of those that live, work and play along the river today. Through her portraits we have a sense of who the river served and who it now is beholden to. Perhaps the person who had to stretch the furthest for this adventure was Evan Ziporyn whose urban life and background made the entire prospect of venturing into the rural West a somewhat marvelous and scary proposition. His music is a combination of this personal adventure and the broad, eclectic knowledge of music that he carries with him everywhere.

Each of these artists move beyond their own individual investigation to grapple with some of the issues that confront nearly any body of water in the 21st century. In considering the river’s past, its present and what will be asked of it in the future, they captured the frailties of this natural resource. Buried in Terry Evan’s notes and Tony Foster’s souvenirs are references to controversial government policies that affected Native tribes and native species and ultimately the health and composition of the river itself. Both Mark Trahant and Evan Ziporyn structured their works to illuminate historic moments that shaped the river and in turn the life that depended on the river. The artworks, the words and the music presented here offer questions about the value of wilderness and work, tradition and evolution, preservation and change--questions that each of us must also consider as we experience and use the rivers, lakes and oceans that surround us. As people experience the exhibition, the catalog and the music, it is my hope that they take time to celebrate and to contemplate these waterways and their own relationship to them.
Kristin Poole
Artistic Director, June, 2003
Acknowledgments
The Sun Valley Center for the Arts Post Office Box 656, Sun Valley,
Idaho 83353

191 Fifth Street East, Ketchum
P: 208.726.9491
Email: information@sunvalleycenter.org
www.sunvalleycenter.org

The gallery is always free and open to the public.