Joshua Tree composer Natasha Marin’s cycle of life—owls included

Music is connection. It doesn’t matter what human creates it, which part of the world it comes from, or whether it was heard by three people or three million, music builds bridges. It can also offer us glimpses into other worlds, as well as the realization that we are more alike than we are different.

In fact, in Dr. Natasha Marin’s academic paper The Role of the Comparative Method in a Global Approach to Music and Music Education, she writes “…music education of any genre or tradition [is] part of a field unifying us as one global race [and] allows us to consider all musical traditions as equally valuable contributions to human culture and view their diversity as a testament to our ingenuity.”

This sentiment, along with the ideals of equity and accessibility, is a foundational part of Marin’s musicality as a composer and performer, as well as her work as a global music educator. While the Joshua Tree-residing, Russian born, classically-trained pianist and harpsichordist may have an illustrious background in performance and collaboration, however—from appearances at the St. Petersburg Philharmonic Hall to LA’s Schoenberg Hall, and piano duos with Gerald Robbins and Dmitry Rachmanov—these days, her focus is pointed toward the magical and mysterious sounds and landscapes of her arid home. And that certainly includes the musical hoots from owls.

Yucca Brevifolia Magazine: Are you composing with owls now?

Natasha Marin: [Laughs] We have some owls in the area, and one night when we were sitting outside there was an owl perched on the neighbor’s tree and it was just hooting, but that owl took 15 minutes or more doing its call. It was a distinct melody, and I was able to write it down, because after a while I thought, well, I guess it wants somebody to memorize it.

And you could tell what notes it was hooting?

[Recites the exact tones from memory]

It was seriously like 20 minutes. And the quails, the quail has its own call, which for me connects to French composer Olivier Messiaen, who cataloged the different calls of the birds and transcribed it for piano and wrote a whole album, so I love it.

I would definitely buy a single of Electronic Duets with Owls! Speaking of . . . you debuted your first electronic music album Songs of the Desert in 2024. How did the composing process differ from classical composition?

It’s interesting, because while I was trained as a classical pianist and then transitioned to harpsichord, since pretty much schoolage I loved electronic music, especially the pioneers of the genre like Tangerine Dream. So, for me, there is no contradiction between classical piano and the electronic music medium, but as far as being able to compose, if you’re within acoustic instrument realms, you’re much more limited, and I never ventured into electronic because of how complicated it was at the time. My transition was actually predicated upon technology catching up with what I wanted, and then that happened. Now, it’s literally just my computer that plugs into a full-size Yamaha keyboard piano and that’s all I need. It’s very intoxicating to have so many possibilities within just one machine.

Do you use the same structures as classical music or more of a stream of consciousness creation?

For me, the visual aspect was very important for the album, and especially having descriptive titles and some kind of chromatic aspect. I’m closely connected to Baroque music, so within this particular album, I use those techniques, such as the ground-based variation for “Storm,” and then “Harpsichord Air” that directly links to Samuel Barber. Much of the song forms are classical A-B-A, and it’s all really a story, a personal reflection of my daily life—going from “Awakening” to “The Evening Star.” It’s kind of like a cycle of life in the desert, from waking up and being there, to flying over cinematically on the way to “Integratron.” Some of the sketches for the pieces I’ve had since I was in school, so when I started writing the album, I pulled them out and used some of the themes. “Memories” was one of those. And in “Evening Star,” I use extensive modulation, wind sampling, some acoustic keyboard and voices. It’s a polyphonic texture.

What are your thoughts on Generative AI in electronic composition? Do you see it as a positive?

Well, it’s definitely making everything more equitable. Like punk rock was supposed to make music creation more accessible to anybody who wants to pick up a guitar and play three chords, right, and even though punks deny it, it’s much more complex than that. GenAI can certainly throw together certain beats and rhythm in a genre but, obviously, the human element is the one that hopefully still has the advantage. That’s where the individuality, where the thematic factor becomes important, because you can program a machine but it’s still humans who first figure out what they want to express as part of their human emotions.

Oh no, you mentioned punk rock. Now we have to talk about the pink-tutu’d elephant in the room.

[Laughs] Yes, Cheech Marin is my husband.

“My momma talk to me/Try to tell me how to live!” Sorry. But I do need to know how the hilarious Pedro photo shoot came about.

[Laughs] Cheech and Chong at some point had a reunion tour, and we were in Australia or Canada, and after the show, his Pedro costume was laying in the hotel room and I was like, wow, this is too tempting, and I put it on. When we came back from the tour, my childhood friend, who is a fashion blogger, suggested we do a photo shoot. Cheech and Chong impersonation photos are a big thing.

Where did you get the lowrider?

The photographer! He was so inspired by the whole idea that he brought it and we were like, if we’re going to do it, let’s do this thing. We parked it right off of PCH where Up in Smoke was shot, right by the house that we used to live in, in Malibu. It was all just kind of spontaneous.

Your marriage is definitely an interesting collaboration!

It is. We have an age difference, we have a difference of background, so what he does, he does on his own, but we both have some kind of arts background that we connect to in daily life. If there were no interest in the arts, I think it could have been boring.

And the two worlds certainly meet in the Marin Salon series you created.

It started around 2012 or 2013 and was about connecting our backgrounds in arts and music. Essentially, it started from his close connection to the artists, and the musicians on my end, and we figured that it could be a good blend of those different realms. They’re private events. We usually invite a musician and an artist to our home, and there’s a music performance with some kind of presentation from the visual artist. Sometimes, we collaborate with different organizations and causes, depending on what it is.

This also seems to tie into your love of music education, equity and accessibility.

Before we started doing the salons, I didn’t realize there is a huge segment of the population who didn’t have that classical music background because it was the only thing I knew. So, it definitely informed my mind about what genre is, and how accessible music is or is not. Music, whether it’s classical or electronic or something else, is one of the most essential ways that we as humans communicate. The most important thing is that people receive it, because it’s a message we all need. 

By Crystal Harrell

When the Yucca Valley Film Festival (YVFF) launched eight years ago, it wasn’t designed to chase trends or replicate the prestige of big-city festivals. Instead, it grew organically from the desert itself: its people, its history, and its long-standing creative undercurrent.

“There has always been a strong artistic community here, with many artists and film professionals living in the desert,” co-director and founding co-creator Matt Beurois explains. “The festival didn’t invent that culture. It gave it a stage.”

Yucca Valley’s cinematic DNA runs deeper than many might expect. Beurois points to the legacy of nearby Pioneertown and a movement just before the festival’s launch that felt almost symbolic.

“Shortly before we launched the festival, Tim Burton filmed a scene from Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children at the local Circle K,” Beurois recalls. “Film culture has long been part of the landscape here and YVFF was built on that foundation to bring people together.”

While the desert setting was essential, the festival’s early success hinged on trust and community buy-in. “It succeeded because residents felt they were part of it,” says Beurois. That trust came quickly.

Support from then-Mayor Dr. Robert Lombardo and City Manager Curtis Yakimow established a strong foundation, as did backing from the Community Services Manager Sue Earnest, giving the fledgling festival the confidence to move forward for its first and second year.

“What ultimately made the difference was that people showed up for the first edition of the festival,” Beurois says. “That’s easy to say after eight years of the same, and great, international films, and a marvelous list by Midnight Express curator and co-director John Stanier established a successful film festival structure, but not out of place.”

“It was the right balance of ambition, excitement, and entertainment,” Beurois says, noting that despite being a small town, “Yucca Valley rose to the occasion.”

“Most importantly, the community filled the room throughout the entire event. That response proved the appetite was real.”

Beurois and festival co-founder Aeyron were not newcomers to cultural production. “We had been organizing cultural events and film festivals and working in the film industry for about ten years at that point,” he explains, and from the beginning, YVFF was “conceived to serve and entertain the local community and to give it something to take pride in.”

Independent filmmakers quickly became the heart of the festival. “Independent filmmakers are our core guests and always have been,” Beurois emphasizes. “YVFF does not impose themes or curated requirements. We still consider any filmmaker if the film is strong and brings something interesting, enjoyable, surprising, or beautiful to audiences.”

According to Beurois, however, one thing has never changed: the relationship with the town. The main descriptor YVFF’s early days is still valid.

“We had to create a brand and build an event from scratch,” he says, from establish and maintain a reputation year after year. “Nothing comparable to YVFF has emerged in the Hi-Desert since, simply because it is a massive amount of work.”

The commitment is ongoing. Beurois spends 10 to 11 months out of every year planning the next edition, and since 2019, it’s never stopped. “It’s a lifestyle commitment,” he says.

Over time, the festival’s outward appearances has evolved—its structure remains familiar—its awards event with a number of screenings and appearances. Now it also offers not only the longest red carpet in the Hi-Desert, but expanded programming and a full “best festival community” event, as well.

Despite its growth, the festival’s core values remain unchanged. “Our residents and the local community is family,” Beurois says. “We are not going to change this idea. We didn’t try to change life in the desert. We just created an event that reflected its rhythm and gave it what makes this place special.”

This November 5–8, the festival celebrates its 8th year to sell out. It’s check out the lineup of offerings, from film screenings to Q&As, panels, a kids’ edition, and photo booths—a destination and a place to call home.

By Stacy Davies

Just a bit north of the 10 freeway, perched above Palm Springs, Cathedral City, and all other Coachella Valley towns, you’ll find the still rather undiscovered land of Desert Hot Springs, or DHS, as it’s locally known. Formerly called simply Miracle Hill, the region sits on a single geothermal field with roughly 200 wells that with the help of fractures from the San Andreas Fault, push mineral waters of 120–160 degrees above ground, a process shaped over thousands of years. The waters were first utilized by the Cahuilla peoples, who referred to it as sec-he, meaning “boiling water,” and over the centuries played an important role in their creation myths long before the first settler, Welsh immigrant Hilda Maud Gray, staked her claim in 1908.

The following years, the region saw a few more pioneers snatch up land, but it was after President Abraham Lincoln signed the Homestead Act in 1862 that colonizers began arriving in herds—including some less threatening explorers such as Cabot Yerxa, a homesteader who deeply revered both the land and its people and preserved much of that heritage in his 35-room pueblo turned museum. In 1941, L.W. Coffee opened the first bathhouse and kicked off the spa developments that would eventually give the land its current moniker, “The Mineral Water Capital of the World.”

Since those early decades, the city has ebbed and flowed in its growth and is now home to around 20 mineral spring resorts. From quaint respites for lovers to family-friendly fare that capitalizes on the waterworks, there’s something for every disposition on the hill, especially for those seeking adults-only Zen hideaways like Azure Hot Springs Resort and Spa.

Overlooking Mt. San Jacinto on the edge of what is known as the “Miracle Hill Spa Zone,” Azure Hot Springs offers 10 free-flowing mineral pools and small tubs in their oasis garden, which also includes a pebble-stream “reflexology walk” that’s sure to activate your plantar pressure points and realign your energy. In fact, realignment is the main focus of every aspect of the resort.

“People come here specifically to relax, recharge, and rejuvenate,” says resort spokesman Richard Lambakis. “And not all spas can get you there.”

This six-acre arid escape is the brainchild of Maria Lease, who refurbished the grounds about five years ago according to her personal vision. The result is simply spectacular—with emphasis on the word simple. While most spa experiences promise a meditative modus vivendi, Azure Resort specifically wants you to de-amplify. In fact, there’s even a cap on the noise level (and, if you happen to have what Richard refers to as “a strong voice,” be prepared to quiet yourself—and my apologies to both Richard and the guests that day!). They also encourage minimal phone usage and have built-in sanctuary pockets where if one absolutely must take a call in the public space, you’re far enough away to not disrupt the rejuvenation of your fellow guests.

In addition to the expected yoga, massage, facials, juice cleanses and sauna sessions, the resort also features a Himalayan salt rock room built entirely from salt bricks and heated by copper pipes—especially try this for antibacterial, antiviral halo-therapy that helps you catch those Z’s at night. If you’re not quite ready for bed, however, instead head over to the frosted-over “cold room,” an icebox-like shock to the system that’ll jolt those impurities clean out of your system—or at least keep your vicious perimenopause temporarily at bay.

Azure offers “spa suite” rooms with their own mineral spring tub, as well as “balcony view” rooms that overlook the Zen garden and Santa Rosa Mountains. They even donate a dollar per person from each day spa visit to DHS Opening Doors, a nonprofit that offers the children of Desert Hot Springs excursions outside of the region, including trips to Griffith Park and Disney Concert Hall. So, whether you need a weekend or a single day spa escape, or maybe just a healthy, from-scratch pesto chicken and squash bowl at their café, Azure Hot Springs Resort and Spa Oasis most definitely fits your bill.

By Stacy Davies

Everyone knows the best Mexican food comes from little pink houses. That color, “Mexican pink,” or, more properly, rosa mexicano, is a cultural signpost, a symbol of Mexican identity that not only denotes joy and festivities, but was even once the celebrated centerpiece of fashion collections by journalist and designer Ramón Valdiosera. Formerly known as “bougainvillea pink,” Valdiosera introduced the cheery hue to the New York fashion scene in the mid-1950s, a revolutionary act that contributed to his legendary moniker, The Father of Mexican Fashion. Likewise, when it comes to Mexican restaurants, rosa mexicano not only promises authenticity on the menu, but can also offer an appetizing excursion to Mexican destinations as yet unexplored.

All of the recipes come from Mexico City, but, as Angie points out, that translates into multiculturalism, not homogeny.

“There are so many people from different states in Mexico City and they share their recipes. Our mole poblano with chicken and chocolate is from the state of Puebla, the mole verde with beef and pumpkin seeds is from the state of Guerrero, and the mole pipián with peanuts and almonds is from the state of Veracruz. They make up our dish, ‘Tres moles,’ all three in one, but it’s only made on weekends because it’s a huge process.”

And that’s just the tip of the tostada. Don’t miss the Churros French Toast with vanilla ice cream, the Vulcan Taco topped with crispy melted cheese, or the Pambazo—a crispy-crusted bread torta filled with potatoes and chorizo, dipped in guajillo sauce, and served with queso fresco. You’ll find it, among other delectables, in their “Street Food on Your Table” section. And definitely don’t miss the cactus tlacoyos.

For my lunch, I opted for the Chiles Gueritos appetizer: six fried yellow peppers stuffed with shrimp and melted Monterey Jack, served with chipotle aioli and soy sauce on the side. There was no passing up the Cochinita Pibil plate for my main dish, with its cazuelita of slow-cooked pork in orange-and-spice sauce, a side of rice and corn tortillas, and pickled red onion with pineapple-habanero sauce.

This incredible dish, which originates from Yucatán—the farthest southeastern point of Mexico—will have you ruing the day you must return to your boring old stateside diet. And that’s later today, of course.

Delicias also offers a kids’ menu and a full bar with cocktails as exotic as their comida creations—far too many to name here, but if you’re looking for unusual ingredients such as wildflower honey, homemade lavender syrup, chocolate liqueur, coconut cream, jalapeño-infused tequila, or edible flowers, their mixologist is sure to satisfy your spirits.

Open seven days a week, Delicias hosts special events and live music, and offers catering, so if you want to win friends or simply treat yourself to a satisfying, savory excursion, head to Desert Hot Springs’ little pink house—it’s the casita rosa that can’t be beat.

Wonder Valley performance artist Tanya Gagné blows your mind!

By Stacy Davies

There are about a dozen different ways one can experience the big bang in the small package that is Tanya Gagné. You might be lassoed from your audience seat and pulled onstage by her rootin’, tootin’ cowgirl, Joy Rides, or you may have the plucky pleasure of hanging with Goldie Hen, the world’s only hula-hooping chicken.

If you inhabit Las Vegas, New York, London, or myriad other metropolises, you may have stumbled upon neo-vaudevillian sensation The Wau-Wau Sisters, the “scandalous circus sideshow striptease spectacular” Night of Joy, the magic-and-ballet burlesque comedy of Birds of Play, or the surreal, western-themed mobile theatre project The Horses Mouth.

She’s sold-out the Sydney Opera House and won at the Edinburgh Fringe and Joshua Awards, and any way you slice it, swing it, saw it in two or spin it around on its glammy, glittery, harebrained head, you’ve just been granted temporary access to the frenzied imagination and fiery form of this petite, rural-New-England-native-turned Wonder Valley powerhouse—who was once a rigger and deckhand aboard Baltic trading ships.

Yucca Brevifolia Magazine:
From sea legs to air legs! How did this happen?!

Tanya Gagné: [laughs] I was living in New York City and attending Tisch School of the Arts for dramatic writing, but I just wasn’t ready. I wanted to trip around, I wanted to travel the world.

And what did you see?

Everything! I sailed on tall ships from Sweden to Africa to South America. Crossing the Atlantic, hands down, was one of the most profound experiences of my life—like, not seeing land for 40 days! I hopped off the ship in New York three years later.

That’s a far cry from Salem, Massachusetts where you were born. In New York you created an aerial and circus school—in your loft?

Yes. I was obsessed with trapeze and trained with Russian coach Irina Gold, a former Soviet Olympic gymnast. Later, I found one of my mentors, Jennifer Miller—a bearded lady and Yale Scholar who created Circus Amok, a very “bread and puppet”-style circus, which means socio-political content rooted in the idea that art should be accessible to the public, not just a privilege for the rich. We did free shows all around the parks of New York City. I was like, “I’m going to save the world!” [laughs]

I performed and studied both here and abroad for about five years, and then I opened the first aerial school in Brooklyn. It was mostly women—privates and groups—and I learned so much about craft and process. But, yeah, it was in my loft, which was not big. Almost twenty years later, I was ready to leave New York, so when they said they were going to demo my building, it was my ticket out.

Serendipity at work! Why Wonder Valley?

I knew I was coming West and that I was on some weird vision quest. I ended up in an artist commune in Washington State for a while, and then during Covid, my friend Kevin Bone, who runs The Palms in Wonder Valley with his wife Laura Sibley, offered me a rental house. Being in all that wide-open space was amazing. I could still train and have my outdoor shows, and I just met all of these amazing freaks.

You were even wrangled into an episode of America’s Got Talent!

Well, I didn’t get the Golden Buzzer or anything, but Simon [Cowell] said Goldie Hen was the funniest act he’d seen all year!

He hates everything—well done! So, what’s next?

I’m definitely going to keep working in Las Vegas, and I’ll still make time for my touring shows like Birds of Play and The Horses Mouth. All of these characters are so special to me, and their mission really is to spread joy, love and magic wherever they go. That connection and inspiration are what it’s all about.

If the vibes are right, Chuck Caplinger can intuit a stranger’s zodiac sign, the make and model of their car, and even their name.

“I’m somewhat of a clairvoyant. Psychic, if you will,” Caplinger told me when I stopped in at his studio to learn about the origins of the Highway 62 Open Studio Art Tours (the “Tours”), now entering their 25th year.

As Caplinger tells it, the seeds for the Tours were planted back in the 1990s, when, during a ride on their Harley, he and partner Holgie Forrester made a pit-stop in twentynine Palms for coffee. It was during that pause that he foresaw a bit of the future.

“There’s going to be an arts renaissance here,” he recounts saying to Forester, “and there’s a five-year window of opportunity for me to be involved and make an impact. We’ve got to move here.”

Before long, and like many creatives before and since, the couple left Los Angeles for the Hi-Desert. They bought a home in twentynine Palms, close enough to LA that Forrester could continue her acting career, and Caplinger set up his studio on the ground floor. He soon joined what was already a vibrant and growing community of artists and went on to co-found the Morongo Basin Cultural Arts Council (MBCAC), the organization that sponsors the Tours.

Where the Magic Happens

The Highway 62 Open Studio Art Tours offer visitors the chance to meet artists where the magic happens. To see the brushes and the kilns, feel the heat coming off the sand, and squint into the sunny desert skies.

The Tours have evolved since their 2001 inaugural year when Lucia Grossberger Morales was in charge. A creator of the Designer’s Toolkit, the 1979 program that let people use a stylus to draw on a graphics tablet, Morales was already a legend. That year, about 20 artists participated, most of them based in twentynine Palms. Last year, the Tours’ artist headcount surpassed 150, and this year could be even bigger: with studios scattered along a wide corridor–45 miles stretching from Morongo Valley to Wonder Valley–it’s now among the largest open studios tours in the nation.

Pack Food, Get the App

This sprawling presence with its long, sandy roads, sharp rocks, and soft shoulders can make navigating the Tours challenging. While there is no “how-to” guide, a good starting place might be with Other Desert Radio podcaster Alexandra Martinez, who made the trek last September and documented it on her Pequeña Cretina series.

“I feel like with the state of the world right now, getting out to look at art can sometimes feel a little ridiculous, but also really necessary,” Martinez says in the episode as she makes her first stop at the studio of Douglas Blanca and Jillian Sandell. After grabbing a coffee and strolling along a path with sculptural installations made from repurposed materials, Martinez’ hesitancy is gone. “I’m already feeling super inspired and ready to look at more art and really be immersed in it,” she says. She also has some tips.

“Pack food,” Martinez told me. “Don’t think of it like going into the Park, where you need to be survival prepared, but, I need to make sure I can actually process this art by not being super hungry or thirsty.” She also recommends downloading the app. “Using the app and creating the experience for yourself is really important. All these places are super spread apart.”

Connecting to Laughter

In Landers, Cybele Rowe’s studio makes for an unforgettable stop. Her two-and-a-half acre sculpture garden is populated with dozens of her own chthonic (“underworld”) ceramic creations, positioned amidst the creosote, teddy bear and pencil cholla. Large-scale—some are the size of a baby elephant—these beings pulsewith swooping, swerving, insideout energy.

Early in her career at City Art Institute in her native Australia, Rowe and classmates fabricated the vehicles and set pieces for director George Miller’s post apocalyptic classic Mad Max (1979), and while Rowe’s style is entirely her own, something about this connection clocks: the distinctive boldness of the work, the unique vision, the way it seems to have been birthed from the land.

Rowe says she mainly went to art school to use the kilns, and now she offers others the same opportunity: kids who come by during the Tours are sent home with a bag of clay and a jar of glaze, and Rowe even fires their pieces for them. “I’m very connected to the laughterand creativity kids naturally have,” she says. 

While she regularly shows at international art fairs in New York, Chicago and other major markets, for Rowe, the Tours are not about the sales, they’re personal. “I’ve had some really good clients who found me through the art tours,” she says, “but I do it because I’m part of the community.”

Good Art Isn’t Always Comfortable Art

Driving from Landers to Yucca onto 62 and then east to twentynine Palms and then even further east to Wonder Valley entails dropping about 1500ft in elevation. The lower you go, the more the waving armed Joshua trees fall away, the heat kicks up a notch, and the purple Sheep Hole Mountains become the dominant backdrop.

At Mark Heuston’s studio—a pink, solar-powered, one-room cabin off Shadow Mountain Road—many of his works are made from scrap metal such as aluminum discarded by auto manufacturers, or sheet metal that blew in on the wind.

Two rows of Heuston’s signature bells hang from the ceiling, the design inspired by tuning forks, and the breeze prompts the bells to sing to each other in clear, bright tones. Typically inspired by desert life— snakes, tortoises, iguanas—there is also a set of hand-forged shackles on the work bench that Heuston boldly wore at a recent demonstration to make a visual statement against cruelty after he witnessed how immigrants are being treated. “I saw some of the really terrible things they were doing to the immigrants,” he laments. “They were literally putting them into chains and shipping them off.” He felt he had to do something. “Good art is not always comfortable,” he notes

Heuston’s art is his expression, and his studio is his refuge from the world. “The studio is an environment where I’m in charge, I’m in control, and I can get into my zone,” he says. “It’s very centering.”

Patronage, Community and Social Traffic

Gretchen Grunt, a multi-media artist who, for a stint in the mid-2000s, took over primary responsibility for running the Tours recalls some of her early training. “The main thing I learned in art school is that you need to be a part of an art movement, and you need a patron.”

That mid-aught period was a peak time for making a living in the arts, says Grunt, who also teaches classes out of her studio at the twentynine Palms Creative Center. 

“From ’03 until the banks fell apart in ’08, it was a goldmine,” she says. “We were selling so much art it was unbelievable. In 2008, everything fell apart financially. Overnight people just stopped buying art.” 

Like all markets, the art markets have had their booms and busts. Compared to other artistic epicenters like Los Angeles and New York City, the Hi-Desert offers artists breathing room. But there are trade-offs.

Caroline Partamian, a sound and visual artist who has lived and worked in New York, the Bay Area, and the Hi-Desert believes the basics are not all that different, noting “there is mutual support between artists, excitement for new ideas being executed and brilliant programming in beautiful spaces.” However, each setting has limitations. 

“Obviously, there’s a lot more money in places like New York. Here in San Bernardino County, we’re operating in one of the lowest HPIs in the state,” says Partamian, who also works as the operations director at Compound Gallery in Yucca Valley and Executive Director of DESERTRADE, an artist residency in Twentynine Palms. HPI is the Healthy Places Index, a data and mapping platform for tracking economic, educational, social, transportation, housing, environmental and healthcare resources. 

“It’s also so much more expensive in New York than it is here—space for a studio, space to present work. But out here, our access to social traffic is limited.”

It’s this proliferation of real life, in-person social traffic that the Highway 62 Open Studio Art Tours solves for the Hi-Desert, at least for a few weekends out of the year. 

New Discoveries Amid the Silence.

One of the pleasures of the Tours is discovering up and coming artists, such as Panda Landa, a Flamingo Heights textile artist who plans to participate in this years’ tours for the third time, exhibiting a range of work—including quilts, an art form they first started exploring during the pandemic.

For many creatives who are drawn to the desert for the stillness and the absence of crowds, the Art Tours can be overwhelming. Landa estimates that last year, between 60 and 80 people came through their studio each weekend—half local, half from other SoCal cities.

“I’m such an introvert,” Landa says. “I was nervous to open up my studio, but it was worth it because of all the people I got to meet.”

Joshua Tree Gem & Mineral Show has proudly been a mainstay for 48+ years, moving to its new location for enhanced beauty and experience. Happening Sept. 30 – Oct. 4, 2026 at the Joshua Tree Lake RV & Campgrounds.

The Joshua Tree Gem & Mineral Show has been a cherished event for 48+ years, recently relocating to the picturesque Joshua Tree Lake RV & Campground. Our vision is to create an enriching experience that highlights the beauty of gems and minerals in a stunning natural setting.

The Joshua Tree Lake RV & Campgrounds are located at the southern edge of the Mojave Desert – offering panoramic views of the expansive & exceptional desert vistas, and spectacular night skies. Enjoy free admission, free parking, and fun activities for all ages!

Show Dates
September 3o – October 4, 2026
2601 Sunfair Road,
Joshua Tree, CA 92252
https://www.joshuatreegemandmineralshow.com/

For 25 years it’s been the Hi-Desert’s largest one-of-a-kind experience for art lovers. Visitors take a FREE self-guided tour of artist studios and work throughout the entire Joshua Tree region. It’s now SoCal’s largest open studio event.

Start your Art Tours journey with a visit to the 2026 Art Tours Collective Show, Sept. 25th – Oct. 18th.

Opening reception: Sept. 26th (Saturday), opening reception, 5:00 to 8:00 pm.

WHEN: Oct. 3/4, 10/11, & 17/18.
HOURS: 10am-5pm

Location: Hi-Desert Artists gallery.During the upcoming Art Tours, don’t miss a great opportunity to preview and collect work by many of the artists on Art Tours at the Hi-Desert Artists gallery in Yucca Valley.

ADDRESS:
55635 29 Palms Hwy
Yucca Valley, CA

GALLERY HOURS:
Mon, Thur & Fri: 11am – 2pm
Sat & Sun: 10am – 5pm

Learn More at hwy62arttours.org/

By Jacqueline Guevara

Holding positive energy. Find a corner of the park where you can be alone for a few minutes, and it’s easy to feel those peaceful, calming vibes, even today.

In the early 1930s, Minerva Hamilton Hoyt, a wealthy socialite from Pasadena, noticed that several of her well-to-do neighbors were visiting the desert and poaching native cacti and other plants. As a member of the Pasadena Garden Club, and a frequent visitor to the desert herself, Minerva was concerned about the future of desert plants in the area—and took action.

Dubbed “The Apostle of the Cacti,” she used her considerable wealth and privilege to influence then-President Franklin Delano Roosevelt to designate 825,000 acres of the Mojave and Colorado deserts as Joshua Tree National Monument. In 1994, the monument was redesignated as Joshua Tree National Park.

Over the years, boundaries have morphed and the size of the park has slightly diminished, but one thing has remained constant: the need to protect and steward the land. The lands inside the park have indeed been set aside in alignment with the National Park Service’s mission statement to “preserve unimpaired the natural and cultural resources” therein “for the enjoyment, education, and inspiration of this and future generations.” But, as the saying goes, it takes a village to fulfill that mission—and that’s where the Joshua Tree National Park Association (JTNPA) comes in.

The Joshua Tree National Park Association is one of several local nonprofit organizations that partner with Joshua Tree National Park to provide support for the park’s programs, projects, and personnel. Charged with staffing, stocking, and managing Joshua Tree’s six visitor centers and park stores, operating park-centered educational programs like the Desert Institute and Discover JTREE, as well as conducting membership, fundraising, and “friend-raising” efforts, the JTNPA is uniquely situated to continue the work begun by Hamilton Hoyt: to help protect the native flora, fauna, and land itself, while educating and inviting others to become stewards of the desert.

Founded in 1962 as the Joshua Tree Natural History Association, the JTNPA, in its current incarnation, began in 1994. Since then, the organization has donated tens of millions of dollars in in-kind support and cash donations to the park, with roughly $4 million contributed in 2025 alone. A team of only 50 employees powers this small but mighty organization, which relies on its community partners, members, and donors—known as Park Lovers—to shop, donate, participate, and volunteer to make these meaningful contributions possible.

JTNPA-funded projects like Desert Plant Restoration enable park staff to gather, store, and study Joshua tree seeds while collecting data on how rising temperatures and changing environmental conditions impact the park’s iconic plant. This work is supported in part by Minerva Hamilton Hoyt’s own Pasadena Garden Club.

Meanwhile, Desert Bighorn Studies have allowed researchers and scientists to map the movement of the park’s herd, which is now at approximately 10% of its historic size. Based on the data collected, the park has closed popular hiking trails during the summer months, enabling the herd to access critical watering holes freely and with minimal disturbance.

The Tortoise Tracking Program has similarly provided park staff with valuable insights into tortoise movement patterns while helping monitor the health of the population. That information, in turn, informs important habitat preservation decisions.

The JTNPA also funds elementary school field trips and distance learning programs so that future generations of public land stewards have the opportunity to visit Joshua Tree National Park and engage with the remarkable desert landscapes that call it home.

by Natasha Brie Beranek 

The whole of nature is a metaphor of the human mind. – Ralph Waldo Emerson 

There is an intangible force behind Hi-Desert artistry. Musicians who live and work here speak of awe, humility, and the desert’s “magic.” Like Ralph Waldo Emerson, they experience nature as something sublime and reflective—a landscape that mirrors the inner world. 

“There is something about the panoramic view,” says Christopher Thorn, owner of Fireside Sound in Joshua Tree. “It’s profound. There’s just this ‘x’ factor that delivers. People don’t usually want to write songs in the studio—it’s scary when you’re paying by the hour. But out here, you can hear yourself think.” 

The desert’s quiet and vastness strips away distraction. Removed from the churn of social media and the relentless economics of Los Angeles, artists slow down. “In LA, your rent is five times more, so your hustle has to be five times more,” Thorn explains. “Here, you can make more pure art. In LA, you feel like the center of the universe. Then you come to Joshua Tree and realize you’re a speck of dust on a ball floating through space.” 

Still, relocating to the Hi-Desert is more than a weekend escape. What compels established musicians to build their lives here? 

Fireside Sound 

Christopher Thorn—guitarist for Blind Melon and The Afghan Whigs—began visiting the desert in 2007. Through touring, he met Dave Catching of Kyuss. “For the record, none of us would be here if not for Dave,” Thorn says. “He’s the pioneer.” 

Early visits to Catching’s studio felt different from LA sessions—more communal, less pressured. Thorn brought an acoustic guitar and journal. “I wrote more songs in those first few years than I did in twenty years in LA.” Each drive up the hill toward the windmills brought calm. “When we found a place out here, it was life-changing.”

Fireside Sound, like Catching’s Rancho de la Luna, is hybrid—analog warmth fused with digital precision. Thorn gestures toward his 1973 API mixing desk, prized for its punchy, “fat” sound. “I work with a lot of kids who make records in their bedrooms,” he says. “But can you make the best record in your bedroom? No. They want to run it through this gear and fortify what they’ve been working on.” 

Inside, the studio feels intimate—dark paneling, Chesterfield sofas, Southwestern blankets. A framed 1993 Rolling Stone cover featuring Blind Melon hangs nearby alongside shelves of rock biographies. The room feels like a sanctuary against the blaze outside.  

Rancho de la Luna 

Despite Dave Catching’s status as the “OG” of Hi-Desert music production, he is strikingly humble about the legacy he has created. “I’m just happy that people still wanna come out and make music!” he says, his exuberant French Bulldog, Chunk, making circles around the coffee table as we chat. 

It would take days to fully absorb the studio’s offbeat tchotchkes—a Howdy Doody head, colorful feathers, an empty bag of Cardi B-themed potato chips, an Alabama license plate reading “QOTSA” hanging next to a rack of cowboy hats. The pièce de résistance is a guitar fashioned out of a bedpan. 

“Out of all the arts,” Catching continues, “music has suffered the most. The business has always been pretty rough, but when streaming happened, everything got more expensive—gas, touring, instruments—and no one’s making money. It would be easy for everybody to say, “fuck it,” but people still save up money and come here to make great music.Ultimately, you make music because you have to.” 

Catching founded Rancho with Fred Drake in 1993. And he echoes Thorn’s reasons for moving here: the desert’s magic, its relative affordability and lack of distractions, and its sense of community. His neighbors include his QOTSA/ Kyuss colleague, Patrick “Hutch” Hutchinson, Eagles of Death Metal’s Brian O’Connor, singer-songwriter Victoria Williams, and his business partner in Rancho de La Luna mezcal, Bingo Richey. 

Catching acknowledges the lure of “desert rock” to those who make the trek to his

studio. “When my friend Chris Goss, who produced Kyuss, first shared their record, he told me, ‘I’m going to make them sound bigger than God!’ I’ve worked with Chris a lot, so I know how to get those heavy sounds.” In addition to Queens of the Stone Age, artists who have recorded at Rancho include Foo Fighters, Arctic Monkeys, and The Desert Sessions musical collective. 

Dennis Moody 

Producer Dennis Moody’s resume spans Missy Elliott, Miles Davis, Aerosmith, and Iggy Pop. Unlike Catching, he struggled at first to lure colleagues east. “They’d say, ‘We don’t want to come out there and work!’” he laughs. “They wanted to recharge, hike, drink beer.” 

Eventually, Moody understood: the desert’s value lies in clarity. Rather than importing outside acts, he invested locally, working with regional artists and helping them realize their creative visions. “That’s what’s important to me.” 

Gatos Trail Recording Studio 

Founded in 2015 by Dan Joeright, Gatos Trail is known for its drum room and onsite lodging. Joeright, a graduate of Berklee College of Music, first came to the Hi-Desert out of curiosity. “I grew up in Ohio—it felt like the moon.” 

He later recorded the Live From the Mojave collection during the pandemic, capturing performances at a natural desert amphitheater before mixing them back at the studio. Wind toppled mic stands, sand threatened equipment. “Another desert experience for the books,” he says. 

Opening Gatos Trail felt risky. “I was nervous no one would come. But I kept thinking, if I love it here this much, someone else will, too.” He describes the area’s pull as a “creative magnetism” strong enough to draw things from artists they might not access elsewhere. 

Potato Alligator Studio 

Patrick “Tricky” Mitchem moved to the desert as a child and never lost his sense of wonder. “There’s a rawness here,” he says. “People aren’t trying to overimpress. They’re here to create.” 

His Morongo Valley home studio—named after his rescue bulldog Ruthie—uses different rooms for different sonic textures. “If it feels too much like a professional studio, artists get intimidated. Sometimes all you need is a warm chair and a studio dog.” 

Mitchem came of age alongside Kyuss and the ‘90s desert rock scene, but his work now spans genres. He performs weekly in Indian Wells and teaches at a non-profit providing contemporary music education to Coachella Valley Youth. Flexibility, he says, is key. “For 20 years, everyone’s called me ‘Tricky’ because I can do so many different things.” 

Coyote Run Studio 

Ian Stahl and Dan Friedman represent a younger wave of Hi-Desert studio owners. Friedman, trained in theoretical computer science, initially moved from Silver Lake to Joshua Tree for space to build and experiment. Together, they launched Coyote Run as a studio, live sound company, and event venue. 

“There’s no record label coming to save us,” Stahl says. “We have to be multi-faceted.” 

That DIY ethos mirrors the broader community. “People here give themselves permission to try things,” Stahl observes. Friedman agrees: “There’s no specific genre. It’s accepting of all expressions.” 

Stahl calls Joshua Tree “the Laurel Canyon of the 2020s”—an affordable, collaborative haven reminiscent of another era. Coyote Run has hosted eclectic events, from hybrid music-and-gaming festivals to international collaborations and socially conscious projects. 

Goat Mountain Recording 

Pat Kearns, host of Z107.7’s Local Music Showcase, sees the desert’s diversity firsthand. “There are different scenes here,” he says. “Unexpected collaborations are when music gets interesting.” 

After working in Seattle and Portland during and after the grunge era, Kearns relocated to the Hi-Desert, drawn partly by economics and partly by possibility. Goat Mountain Recording opened in Landers in 2020 and runs off solar power—an off-grid studio pairing vintage analog equipment with modern converters. 

“The quiet out here lets you hear what’s already in your head,” Kearns says.

Songs Buried in the Sand 

Toward the end of our conversation, Thorn shares a story. Bruce Springsteen once visited Fireside Sound for an album cover shoot and documentary work. Thorn joked that songs were buried all over the property. “You can come grab them anytime,” he told him. Springsteen nodded. “I know.” 

And that’s how Joshua Tree feels to those who create here. The songs are waiting—in the silence, in the wind, in the vastness. You only have to slow down long enough to hear them.