Where the Riverbed Meets the Art: Climate, Magic, and Community at BIFA

The moment I knew I wanted to write about BIFA, I was sitting on the bank of the Blue River in the Alpine Garden. A collection of local wellness practitioners dressed as fairies were in the middle of a sound bath, moving through the garden with chimes and singing bowls. I had stopped for a rare moment between running from event to event, answering questions and generally trying to be in three places at once.

As I settled into the soft grass, a young couple arrived with a bucket and fishing poles. They were there to help save fish stranded in some of the last remaining water in the Blue River.

And there it was: the connection between the art and the place. Between creativity, environment and action. Between a festival and a drought.

BIFA was never meant to be just a collection of art, music and performances. This year, so many of the experiences asked us to notice our environment and, in some cases, what we might lose if we don’t take care of it.

Bill Orisich’s Undercurrents, a site-specific sound installation along the river, was created from voices, instruments and underwater sounds inspired by the Blue River and its history. The live performances were improvised, haunting and almost lamenting, a cry for a river that wasn’t there. What began as an artistic response to a flowing river became something else amidst dry riverbed rocks.

Nicole Banowetz’s enormous inflatable flora and fauna transformed mountain and seascape species into strange, otherworldly creatures. Her funky thistle inflatable made from recycled tents was inspired by a highly specialized alpine plant that researchers are studying as a lens into climate change.

And Pattie Gonia brought environmental advocacy, a deep love for the outdoors and enough energy and joy to fully fill the Riverwalk Center. She inspired people to care, to act and, of course, to dance. They reminded us that environmentalism doesn’t always have to feel heavy. Sometimes it can feel like a party.

Of course, BIFA was also wonderfully weird and beautiful.

At our VIP kickoff, Jasmine Leslie Ross led us through a thoughtful ceremony inside the kaleidoscopic Inner Harmony tent by Laurie Shapiro with tea lights and moments of meditation, asking us to slow down, look around and really experience the festival.

When Thursday night arrived, suddenly there were giant blue birds with flapping flipper feet and long tentacle-like finger wings. Children ran toward the towering creatures with equal parts terror and delight. We quickly realized we needed more blue bird handlers to support the flock through the sea of kids. Frail Talk provided the squiggly indie soundtrack, and it all made perfect sense.

There was the Mad Hatter Tea Party on the lawn of the Barney Ford Museum, with giant playing cards as placemats, eclectic teacups sourced at the Frisco rummage sale, mad hat decorating and Diego Espinosa playing from the historic porch. It was charming, a little off kilter and completely Breckenridge.

And then there was the less dreamy part…

On Friday, I ended up riding a bicycle many miles to help build energy for our new bike-powered stage. This was not on my BIFA bingo card.

A bunch of Breck Create staff members took turns pedaling to build enough battery power to run the sound equipment. It was sweaty, slightly ridiculous and a pretty good reminder that sometimes you have to get in there and do the thing yourself to understand how it works and how to make it better next time.

More importantly, we did it together. That teamwork was everywhere. I saw my coworkers solving problems, hauling things, washing dishes, setting up tents, moving signage, covering sound equipment with tarps to protect from the rain, preparing green rooms for blue birds and bands, welcoming thousands of people and doing all the invisible work that makes a festival feel effortless to everyone else.

And I saw the payoff.

Visitors smiled. Locals cried tears of joy (literally). People danced in the rain. Families made their own little worlds inside the Inner Harmony tent. People curled up with Backstage Theatre’s The Loooong Fall like a good book. And in the Alpine Garden, someone had apparently decided that a Diego Espinosa Trail Mix concert in the dry riverbed was the perfect occasion for a full shrimp-cocktail-and-cheese-board dinner. Riverbed tailgating. A new BIFA tradition, perhaps.

I said throughout the festival that if you felt your reality bending and your imagination blooming, then you were doing BIFA right.

I hope you left with a little more curiosity, a dusting of wonder and a greater connection to this extraordinary place we get to call home. Because what I took away from BIFA is that Breckenridge has a creative soul. It is weird and unexpected, peaceful and welcoming, and almost always beautiful beyond belief.

And sometimes it has giant otherworldly/mythical creatures roaming about.

Karlie McLaughlin
Co-Interim Executive Director