Bon Iver’s Justin Vernon Announces Eaux Claires Hiver 2019: A Winter Reimagining of a Beloved Festival

Introduction: A Whisper in the Snow — The Birth of Eaux Claires Hiver

In the quiet hush of a Wisconsin winter, where frozen rivers mirror the pale sky and snow-laden pines stand like silent sentinels, music returns to the northwoods—not with a roar, but with a breath.

On a frost-kissed morning in December 2018, Justin Vernon, the reclusive visionary behind Bon Iver, stepped out from behind the curtain of solitude to announce something unexpected: Eaux Claires Hiver 2019—a one-night-only winter edition of the beloved Eaux Claires Music & Arts Festival.

Held in the same sacred grounds of Mercer, Wisconsin, just miles from Vernon’s hometown of Eau Claire, the event was not a full-scale revival of the summer festival, but a haunting, intimate reimagining—a sonic bonfire in the frozen dark.

“Hiver,” French for winter, was more than a seasonal subtitle. It was a philosophy. A mood. A return to roots, silence, and resonance.

In an era of bloated festival lineups, corporate sponsorships, and Instagrammable stages, Eaux Claires Hiver stood apart: smaller, quieter, and more soulful. It was a gathering for those who listen closely, feel deeply, and believe that music can be a form of communion.

This is the story of how one of indie music’s most enigmatic figures brought a festival back to life—not in the heat of summer, but in the stillness of winter.

The Legacy of Eaux Claires: From Dream to Cultural Beacon

To understand the significance of Hiver, we must first return to the beginning.

In 2015, Justin Vernon and fellow Wisconsin native Aaron Dessner of The National co-founded the Eaux Claires Music & Arts Festival. Born from a desire to create something uniquely regional, artistically bold, and deeply personal, the festival transformed a 230-acre forested site into a sanctuary for experimental music, visual art, and community.

Unlike traditional festivals, Eaux Claires had no headliners in the conventional sense. Instead, it featured curated collaborations, surprise sets, and genre-defying performances. The 2015 debut included a legendary “Day of the Dead” tribute to the Grateful Dead by Dessner’s Red Hot Chili Peppers didn’t headline; James Blake, Vince Staples, and Sufjan Stevens did.

The festival became a cultural phenomenon—not just for its music, but for its ethos. It was anti-commercial, artist-first, and deeply rooted in the Midwest’s quiet beauty. There were no VIP sections, no giant beer tents, no corporate branding. Just art, nature, and sound.

But after four celebrated summers (2015–2018), the festival went on indefinite hiatus. In 2018, Vernon cited burnout, logistical challenges, and a desire to protect the festival’s soul from commercialization.

Fans mourned. The music world wondered: Was Eaux Claires gone for good?

Then, in December 2018, Vernon posted a single image on Instagram: a snow-covered field, a single spotlight glowing in the distance, and the words:

“Eaux Claires Hiver. February 15, 2019. One night. One stage. One fire.”

The whisper became a rumble.

Eaux Claires Hiver 2019: The Concept and Vision

Eaux Claires Hiver was not a festival in the traditional sense. It was an event—a pilgrimage.

Held on February 15, 2019, at the Hay Creek Festival Grounds in Mercer, WI, the night was designed to embrace the essence of winter: stillness, introspection, and the beauty of darkness.

Vernon described it as “a love letter to the quiet,” a return to the raw, emotional core of music-making. The lineup was kept secret until the night of the event, reinforcing the idea of surprise, presence, and shared discovery.

The stage was minimal—a single wooden platform lit by fire pits and soft LED installations. No massive screens, no pyrotechnics. Just sound, snow, and stars.

Tickets were limited to 3,000 attendees, priced affordably at $50, with proceeds supporting local arts programs and environmental conservation in northern Wisconsin.

“This isn’t about scale,” Vernon said in a rare interview with The Current. “It’s about intimacy. It’s about remembering why we started making music in the first place.”

The Lineup: A Night of Mysticism and Collaboration

Though the full lineup wasn’t revealed in advance, word spread quickly through the indie music grapevine. Attendees arrived knowing only that Vernon would perform—and that the night would be special.

What unfolded was nothing short of magical.

1. Bon Iver – A Solo Set in the Snow

The evening began with Justin Vernon alone on stage, seated on a wooden stool, acoustic guitar in hand, breath visible in the cold air. He opened with a stripped-down version of “Flume,” the haunting opener from For Emma, Forever Ago—the album he recorded in a remote Wisconsin cabin during a winter much like this one.

He played deep cuts, unreleased sketches, and covers—“Lump Sum”, “Woods” (on a battered harmonium), and a fragile rendition of “Holocene” that left the crowd in silence.

At one point, he paused, looked up at the sky, and said:

“This is where it all started. In the cold. In the dark. With nothing but a melody.”

2. The People’s Temple – A Choral Rebirth

Next came The People’s Temple, the experimental vocal ensemble co-founded by Vernon and Dessner. Dressed in heavy coats and wool hats, they performed a 20-minute choral piece titled “Hiver’s Lament”—a composition blending Gregorian chant, ambient drones, and spoken word poetry by Wisconsin poet Milkweed.

The performance, conducted under a canopy of hanging ice sculptures, was described by one attendee as “like hearing the forest breathe.”

3. Jenny Lewis & The Watson Twins – Fireside Harmonies

In a surprise appearance, Jenny Lewis took the stage with her longtime collaborators The Watson Twins, performing a short set of folk-tinged ballads, including a wintery reimagining of “Acid Tongue” and a cover of Low’s “Canada”—a tribute to the Duluth band known for their slowcore hymns to the northern cold.

4. Bruce Hornsby & The Noisemakers – Improvisational Fire

Veteran pianist Bruce Hornsby, a longtime collaborator of Vernon’s, brought his band for a 45-minute improvisational set that blended jazz, bluegrass, and electronic textures. At one point, Hornsby played a solo on a prepared piano wrapped in thermal blankets to protect it from the cold—a moment fans called “the sound of winter speaking.”

5. Collections of Colonies of Bees – Ambient Soundscapes

The experimental Wisconsin band Collections of Colonies of Bees—of which Vernon is an occasional member—performed a live score to a short film titled Ice Songs, projected onto a snow-covered screen. The piece, composed entirely of field recordings, bowed guitars, and sub-bass frequencies, vibrated through the ground, felt as much as heard.

6. The Final Act: “Winter Requiem” – A Collaborative Finale

The night culminated in a 30-minute collaborative performance titled “Winter Requiem”, featuring nearly all the artists on stage. Led by Vernon on vocals and modular synth, the piece wove together themes of loss, renewal, and resilience.

It began with a single note from a French horn, echoed by a cello, then a looped vocal sample of a child laughing—recorded by Vernon in Eau Claire in 2007.

As the music swelled, snow began to fall. Attendees held up lanterns. Some wept. Others stood in silence, wrapped in blankets, breath rising like incense.

When the final chord faded, Vernon stepped forward and said:

“Thank you for coming into the cold with us. This is not an ending. It’s a breath.”

The Aesthetic and Atmosphere: Art in the Arctic

Eaux Claires Hiver was as much an art installation as a concert.

The festival grounds were transformed into a winter wonderland of sound and light:

• Fire Pits: Strategically placed throughout the field, each tended by volunteers, offering warmth and gathering points.
• Ice Sculptures: Created by local artists, including a 12-foot-tall wolf made of frozen river water, lit from within by blue LEDs.
• The Listening Tent: A heated geodesic dome where attendees could lie on fur rugs and listen to curated ambient playlists, including works by William Basinski, Grouper, and Hildur Guðnadóttir.
• The Snow Chapel: A small, igloo-like structure where visitors could write messages of grief, gratitude, or hope and leave them in a wooden box—a modern-day offering to the winter.
• Food & Drink: Local vendors served bison stew, mulled wine, birch syrup hot cocoa, and wild rice cakes—all sourced from Wisconsin farms and foragers.

There were no cell phone signals. No Wi-Fi. No social media. Attendees were encouraged to be present.

As one fan wrote on Reddit:

“I haven’t felt that connected to music—or to people—in years. It wasn’t about the songs. It was about the silence between them.”

Why Hiver Mattered: A Counterpoint to Modern Festival Culture

In 2019, the music festival landscape was dominated by massive events like Coachella, Lollapalooza, and Governors Ball—crowded, commercialized, and often overwhelming.

Eaux Claires Hiver offered a radical alternative:

• Small scale instead of mass appeal
• Artistic curation over algorithmic booking
• Emotional depth over viral moments
• Presence over documentation

It was a rejection of the idea that bigger is better.

As music critic Ann Powers wrote in NPR Music:

“Hiver reminded us that music doesn’t need spectacle to be transcendent. Sometimes, all it needs is a voice, a guitar, and a shared breath in the cold.”

The event also highlighted Vernon’s growing role as a cultural steward—not just a musician, but a guardian of artistic integrity, regional identity, and environmental awareness.

Proceeds from the event went to the Eau Claire River Conservancy and the Northern Wisconsin Arts Initiative, reinforcing the festival’s commitment to place and community.

The Aftermath: A One-Night Miracle

Eaux Claires Hiver 2019 was never intended to be repeated. It was a singular moment, a flash of warmth in the winter dark.

No official recording was released. No livestream. No YouTube videos (though fan-shot clips circulated online before being taken down at Vernon’s request).

“It was for us,” he said. “For the people who were there. For the land. For the season.”

But its impact rippled outward.

• Pitchfork named it one of the “Most Unforgettable Concerts of 2019.”
• The New York Times ran a feature titled “The Festival That Refused to Be Captured.”
• Bon Iver’s 2019 tour incorporated elements of the Hiver aesthetic—minimal staging, ambient interludes, and a focus on audience connection.
• Local tourism in northern Wisconsin saw a 15% increase in winter visitors citing Hiver as inspiration.

And in 2020, Vernon and Dessner launched People’s Festival, a traveling arts collective inspired by the spirit of Eaux Claires and Hiver—bringing curated performances to small towns across the Midwest.

Justin Vernon’s Philosophy: Music as Ritual

At the heart of Eaux Claires Hiver is Vernon’s evolving philosophy of music.

He has long rejected the rockstar archetype. No interviews. No awards. No ego.

Instead, he sees music as ritual, therapy, and community.

In a 2019 interview with The Guardian, he said:

“I don’t make music to be heard. I make it to be felt. And sometimes, the best way to feel it is in the cold, in the dark, with people you don’t know but somehow understand.”

Hiver was the purest expression of that belief.

It wasn’t about fame. It wasn’t about sales. It was about returning to the source—to the frozen lakes, the quiet woods, and the solitary moments that gave birth to For Emma, Forever Ago.

In a way, Hiver was a full-circle moment: the man who recorded an album in isolation, surrounded by snow, now gathering others into that same sacred space.

Conclusion: The Fire That Wouldn’t Die

Eaux Claires Hiver 2019 was more than a concert. It was a cultural artifact—a reminder that music can be slow, quiet, and deeply human.

In an age of noise, it chose silence.
In an age of excess, it chose restraint.
In an age of disconnection, it chose presence.

And in doing so, it reignited the spirit of Eaux Claires—not as a festival, but as a feeling.

Justin Vernon didn’t bring back Eaux Claires.
He transformed it.

From summer to winter.
From stage to sanctuary.
From performance to prayer.

As the last embers of the fire pits faded that night, and the snow continued to fall on the empty stage, one truth remained:

Some fires don’t need to burn bright to be warm.
Some music doesn’t need to be loud to be heard.
And some moments—like a winter night in Wisconsin with Justin Vernon and 3,000 silent souls—don’t need to be repeated to be eternal.