My Mizzou Story
Justin McCurry
Cows are art to recent graduate Justin McCurry. At least they're part of his art.
McCurry is part of a fifth-generation family running a farm and cattle operation in Mount Hope, Kan. Although hospitable to cattle, wheat, corn and soybeans, the level land at times falls flat with the younger generation.
As McCurry points out, there isn't much to do in a community of 700 people, and dating is difficult when you're related to many of the residents.
"I have to get as far away as I can," he says. He does that as a makeover artist for cattle.
McCurry works as a fitter, an animal groomer who answers to the beck and call of cattle ranchers aiming to win best in show. Cattle people tell him that he's one of the top five to 10 "blower monkeys" in the nation.
He laughs as he admits the cow-beautician business paid for his education (plus an art scholarship). McCurry graduated in May with an art degree in graphic design. He loved the creative atmosphere in the department, especially in the classes of Associate Professor Deborah Huelsbergen, who was recognized for her teaching with a 2003 William T. Kemper Fellowship.
McCurry loved math and science, too. Heck, he just loved being a student: "Why quit something you're good at?" Now he agonizes that he should start a serious job search. That's hard to do when the cattle beauty business is so lucrative. McCurry's typical three-day fitter job covered his living expenses and student fees for a month.
Ranchers pay McCurry to primp their animals, and they fly him in for the big shows in Reno, Nev., Fort Worth, Texas, Houston, Louisville, Ky., Kansas City, Kan., and Denver — the Super Bowl of cattle shows.
To create the look that pleases judges, fitters face dangerous hooves that pack quite a wallop. Most fitters, including McCurry, have been kicked senseless by cows and cut by their own main tool — super-sharp clippers.
There are other drawbacks as well. Fitters kneel or stand on concrete as long as 10 hours at a time. They suffer sleep deprivation with days that begin as early as 4 a.m. And they get kicked and messed on.
"The cows can be brats," McCurry says of his animal clients, "but most of these cattle are like house pets who come running to you."
Without all the hairstyling, glue and paint, a farm heifer doesn't look anything like the groomed champions in McCurry's photos. "It's a night and day difference," McCurry says of a cow makeover. "I consider it my best form of art."
Huelsbergen confirms that McCurry has other talents more traditional to the study of art. In her graphic design classes, he consistently produced what she calls "beautiful, clean designs." Even his design for a high-powered nose-hair clipper was first rate.
"Everything has his stamp of weird," she says. "He pays attention to the smallest details, and that's what makes his designs work so well."
His entire family came to Mizzou for his graduation. "They showed up in droves," he says. The next day, McCurry flew to Maryland for the Atlantic National cattle show. He's so consistent.
One morning at Mizzou when McCurry missed the start of a graphic design class, he walked into the room and offered Huelsbergen an apology and excuse: "I'm sorry I was late," he said. "I was chasing a cow around last night."
She believed him and admits, "That's not a statement you'd believe from just anybody."