Folk artists vs. the state: Truckhenge, Bishop Castle, the Garden of Eden, and the anti-authoritarianism of outsider art.

• Author: Pontiff, Reecy
• Position: Culture and Reviews

HANGING A PAINTING in your living room isn't likely to inspire a visit from the county zoning board. You may get away with a collection of garden gnomes in your front yard, especially if you live in the countryside. But start artistically upending antique trucks in your lawn or constructing a 16-story stone castle and you're almost certain to find yourself mummified in red tape.

"Art environments" like these exist all around America, created by people who have no formal training and thus are considered "grassroots," "folk," or "outsider" artists. And a lot of these artists have an anti-authoritarian bent--sometimes because they're naturally inclined that way, sometimes because the local authorities just won't leave them alone.

Approaching the two stone towers of Bishop Castle that stretch above the Rocky Mountain pines, you'll see one of many hand-painted signs clustered near a full-sized portcullis and drawbridge:

"NO DRUNK TAX PAYERS."

An additional sign features a brief list of commonsense rules, including "Children must be with an adult" and "No climbing on the sand pile." The rest reads: "You are welcome if you agree with everything. IF NOT NO TRESPASSING! In my opinion unreasonable & unfair laws force me to write this sign. By my hard earned power, Jim Bishop (castle builder)."

These are some of the milder signs posted around Bishop's 160-foot castle in the rural town of Wet-more, Colorado. He began building the structure back in 1969, and now wrought-iron cages, swooping spiral staircases, and a fire-breathing dragon's head loom over the trees. The 2.5-acre property is isolated, bordered by National Forest on three sides. Bishop says his creation will be finished when he's dead.

The artist's distaste for the government seems to have developed in the 1970s, when the county started hassling him about zoning. "In the beginning, [county representatives] come up here and they didn't know how to assess this, so they told us we couldn't build anything over 45 feet high," says Phoebe, Jim's wife of almost 50 years. "Even our little cabin was higher than 45 feet. It was just little nit-picking stuff," she continues, gesturing up at the maze of metalwork walkways and stone stairways that entwine the granite towers.

Such scuffles with the local government seem to have shaped the Bishops' views. "There's a difference between lawful and legal. It's code now," Jim says. "It's about making money--controlling people and making money. They don't care about the Constitution."

The authorities' interest finally began to let up in the early 1990s, and today they leave the Bishops in relative peace. "Once they realized that...