sometimes a rodeo is just a rodeo

The week before I came to New Zealand I went to see the Richard Prince exhibit at the Guggenheim. I was most excited about his photos of motorcycles and Marlboro men from the 80s, appropriated from ads and magazines.

Yesterday was the Wanaka Rodeo and I was reminded over and over of Richard Prince's photographs. Though here on the South Island, a rodeo is really just a rodeo.

The chutes, where the cowboys will wait later to be let into the arena on their saddle broncs and bulls. Here they watch one of the more sedate events.


Here's our friend Liz barrel-racing. City girls think they know how to work high-waisted jeans until they go to the rodeo.

All day long the crowd waits for the Open Bull Ride, when a small handful of brave souls get on bulls bred for mean bucking with names like Lucifer and Sandtrap. When my brother-in-law, Doug, used to rodeo, this was his event.

Here's a photo of a photo of him then. Basically my sister went out and married the coolest big brother I could ever hope to have.

Quite a dad too. Here Bella and Maizie train for their day in the arena.