Artswells. You hold a special place in my heart. A green foresty one filled with artists, musicians, gypsy treeplanters, decorated with colourful old rag bunting. My favourite festival, I've been telling everyone I met the past year. I couldn't agree more. I come home under the moonrise, shooting stars, northern lights. We scream with delight after jamming in the cold all night, when the sun rises over the mountains and the moon sets like a giant orange ball behind the trees. Early morning smoke over the river vanishes when I kick my boots off and hide under a blanket.
Wells is so far away, a full day road trip away. Driving through forest fire smoke, thinking what on earth are we doing? As we arrive in the tiny town of wells, the big lake awaits to wake up our tired bodies. Cold water swims are espresso for the body, getting it ready for a festival of dance and art! A familiar feeling comes over me as we roll in through the magical little town. Surrounded by mountain green, a patchwork of river and pippi longstocking houses brings me right back to last year, frolicking around the festival. I left feeling so inspired, and now I'm back!
Music pops up everywhere, like an endless jam going for four days and nights straight. The awesome mix of people makes Artswells what it is. Drunk punks, blessed coast hippies and everything in between. If Artswells was a drink, it would be kombucha with whiskey. Every single person you meet is so freaking talented, it's mindblowing. From accordion players to tattoo artists, herbalists and poets, everyone is an artist in Wells.
When everyone is weird, we all become normal. When you can all be yourself completely, there is no judgment. It's a magical place they created in Wells. A bubble of art and joy, music and play. The skies stayed clear of smoke, but the fire inside of me is going crazy with inspiration to create. Oh Artswells, you did it again.