Polebridge artist 'keeps it simple'

It's obvious from the moment you first lay eyes on Peter Moore that this is a man who has great stories.

But though the 56-year-old artist is laid-back and open in his conversation, you nonetheless get a sense of an old soul in there that's unavailable for casual viewing.

"Oh, I have a million stories, all right. I'd just rather tell them around a campfire," he said, a smile in his voice.

He lives simply and by design. His home is a cabin he built more than two decades ago on land eight miles north and west of the heart of Polebridge - a remote North Fork town of fewer than 100 residents.

"I've always wanted to just keep things simple," he said. "Doing art is what I need to do in this world, so I set myself up in a life without a regular job and where I don't need to answer the phone. I've kind of fashioned a lifestyle that allows me to do the thing I need to do."

The Minnesota native lives on the same 160 acres his grandfather homesteaded in 1918. Moore first saw the property during a family trip to the 1962 Seattle World's Fair and decided then that, when he grew up, he would return to build his own cabin there.

It just took him a little while.

After dropping out of college in 1970, Moore left Minnesota and hitched around the country for the next six years.

"Back then, it was love and peace everywhere," he said. "All you had to do was find someone and ask if they had a place you could crash at."

After a while, he took another shot at the university scene - this time to study studio arts - but the restlessness returned.

Moore finally made it back to Montana to build his home. The year was 1980.

He started with a tent and then graduated to a teepee. It would take him three years to finish the cabin.

His entire family came out from Minnesota to help him. The work was done by hand, and the only power tool Moore owned was a chain saw.

His house was built without electricity, indoor plumbing or telephone.

"I get my water from Hawk Creek," he said. "I take a bucket down and scoop it out. I have a wood stove, a propane stove, two small solar panels and a couple of lights that run off 12-volt batteries. Oh, and I have a car stereo tape deck for music.

"People always wonder what they can do about the environment. What I know I can do is keep it simple and not make too much of a mess in my own place."

Peter Moore's approach to life is reminiscent of that of a person seated in the lotus position with his palms facing upward - open to receive whatever may come. We are all connected, he believes.

"When I see things, I want to show them to others," he said. "It makes me feel like I'm doing something to expand. If you're lucky enough to realize the art that is within yourself, you're capable of doing it."

He paints with acrylics on canvas, primarily, starting with a pencil drawing and later adding color.

"I'm almost blind and I use a small brush," he said. "When I paint, I get myself close to the canvas. Therefore, everything gets really detailed."

In terms of making a living from his art, he doesn't see himself as much of a businessman and said he is allergic to self-promotion. His works currently are displayed in galleries in Whitefish and Scottsdale, Ariz., as well as at the Glacier Park International Airport and the Polebridge Mercantile. He also has a gallery in his home.

"Knowing what to charge for my work is hard," he said. "I think about things like: How long has that painting been on my wall? How much does the image mean to me, personally? How much time did I put into it? How large is it?"

Current prices for Moore's work range from $500 to $3,000.

During the summer, Moore bartends two nights a week at the Northern Lights Saloon in Polebridge, an eatery with eight bar stools and five tables. He calls it a good gig.

"If you don't count that, I've never worked a job more than six months in my life, max," he said.

In recent years, Moore has headed to Arizona and then down into Mexico for the winter. A few years ago he was artist-in-residence at a colony in Patagonia, Ariz.

Usually he leaves Montana after New Year's and returns during May. But like everything else in his life, no plans are immutable.

"I used to live here all winter, but it's just easier to get around when you don't have to chip holes in the ice to get your water," he said. "A lot of people aren't up here in winter anymore - I find myself pretty much isolated and 1 1/2 miles from where I have to park my car. Also, it's only light from 8 a.m. until 4 p.m. As an artist, I need that light."

Moore thinks that loneliness is a state of mind and not dependent upon where you live. He said he feels more alone than lonely in his home. His idea of an answering machine is the notebook and pencil nailed to the wall of his front porch - it's the only way he can tell whether he's had visitors while he was away.

Naturally enough, he has something of an up-close friendship with the local moose, deer, bears and birds.

"They feel safe here," he said. "When you come in the driveway, you shut the whole world off behind you.

"You know, a lot of people from the city can't imagine ever being off the sidewalk. One guy who came out here - he had what I called 'bearanoia.' He was afraid to leave my front porch without me. Me, I just like to have a good feeling around animals."

The life he has chosen, Moore knows, is not for everyone. It is, most likely, for precious few.

"You give up a lot of things - material stuff - to live like this," he said. "And in this day and age, material is like God. People will fight for it."

Henry David Thoreau, a 19th-century American naturalist, writer and recluse, once wrote:

"Live each season as it passes; breathe the air, drink the drink, taste the fruit, and resign yourself to the influences of each."

For Peter Moore, these are the words that matter.

"What I love most," he said, "is my ability to be here right now. Wherever that happens to be."

Reporter George Kingson may be reached at 758-4438 or by e-mail at gkingson@dailyinterlake.com