You Never Know

I had the oddest experience that I think is a lesson in reaching the viewer. I had painted a King Charles sleeping on top of a Cocker Spaniel and sent it off to the gallery that shows my work in Ohio. I was told by the gallery owner it was noticed and commented on regularly. But it hung for six months without a sale, and I decided it was time to pull it in favor of a piece that might do better.

Once the piece was shipped back to me I re-examined it for a show here in New Mexico. Only hours before leaving to hang the piece I decided to alter the King Charles, and make him awake.

The piece sold in three hours.

Now I keep looking at it, trying to decide was it the change in eyes or the change in location or ?? I shall never know.

Dignity and Cats

Cats are so dignified, sleek and graceful that it delights me when they succumb to the inner kitten - rolling over and batting at sunbeams, luring you from your work to just savor the moment and the silliness. How they can look both silly and dignified in the same moment, I do not know, but I tried to capture a bit of both in this painting.

Sunday Morning Musings

Sunday mornings here are so quiet - with no activity nor impending obligations. My mind is free to slouch off the mundane duties that occupy so much of every one's time, and just savor the moment. I can let the beauty outside my window woo me to thoughts of Shangri La.

This morning there was an apricot dawn, that made dark dusty rose shadows on the land. It was such that I ached to paint it, yet wonder if anyone would believe it was nature's coloring and not my own imagination. The mountains in the distance had a soft blue grey that almost seems luminous beneath the totally clear sky. And as I watched the colors altered, slipping to paler versions that became infused with the blue that gradually dominated it all. The brightening of the sky revealed the greens within the black forms of pinon and juniper. The wild horses slowly appeared on the mesa, as though they too were part of nature's dawning composition. Light pulled out patterns from the shadow on my stucco wall, and the birds began to find the shallow puddles from last night's rain.

What a miracle it is to be here, watching this transpire. There is a sense that I could walk to the mesa and run with the wild horses. I could dance my way to the mountain peaks and meet the most magical of creatures. And then, I think ....
just maybe...

I think I can reach between the mountain tip and the pale blue sky and raise a corner like a curtain on a majestic stage, and just crawl between the two to the beyond!


I feel the need to write laughing poetry or paint joy on a canvas. I want to tease the last ray of moonlight into a dance or shake hands with the unicorn innocently hiding among the horses.
I am one with this place and time and all its potential. I want to cup the moment in my hands and share it with everyone! Like a child showing a captured firefly I would slowly part my fingers, reveal it, then watch it sparkle up and into the universe as it was meant to do.

Mr Coyote

One of the joys of living in Placitas, New Mexico is the variety of wildlife that visits the foothills of the Sandia mountains. I have been holding up in the studio the past few days painting thanks to that wonderful inspiration. The end result is a portrait of a gentleman who visits my yard often, though the background choice I made does not reflect it. Mr Coyote is a sleek and well-fed fellow, no doubt due to the abundance of rabbits in the area. Each time I see him or his cousinfriends I am struck by the way they seem to be assessing my presence. I wonder if the look in my eyes as I watch them is the same as theirs as they watch me.

The Measure of a Civilization

This past week had two moments that have led me to wonder about what markings and measures make a civilized society. The first was an article about Afghans digging up a horde of ancient treasures they had buried to protect them from the government. The men who buried them risked their lives and the lives of their families to protect art. Only now did they feel it was safe to bring them from their hiding place. The article went on to say they were going to move the artifacts out of the country to which they belonged to protect them. Was this act of courage as sign of the quality of that civilization as much or more than the artifacts themselves? Or was the willingness to destroy such treasure by the government (regardless of the reason) the true measure?

I just returned from a trip to Mesa Verde, CO. I overlooked the amazing cliff dwellings, and thought of the civilization that created it, lived there, then left; and even surrounded by tourists from around the world I felt the sacredness of the site.

As I sit here I weigh the protection of the Mesa Verde site, the protection of those Afghan treasures, and the meaning of each. I think the measure of a civilization is the value the individuals within places on its art and history. When art no longer has value to a culture that culture is lost. When its own history is deemed dangerous, or worthless, that culture teeters on the brink of destruction.

the eyes

My muse has been funny lately. There are images floating in my brain that I want to paint, but fear they exceed my skills. I WILL do the muse's requests and show them to you. They take longer though. I think the muse wants to stretch my skills, and that is a good thing. Sometimes there is wisdom in sticking with the familiar, and that is animals for me.

So between two paintings the muse requested, I did a puma. Here it is. Nietzsche said that, "when you look into an abyss, the abyss also looks into you." So it is with eyes.

Pentimento or Zen and the dirty brushes

A week of frustration has been spend dealing only with the mechanics of painting, and not actually doing it. I have been working on handouts for my students, framing my work, buying supplies and all the necessary but uncreative things that art requires. I am reminded that every creative action has with it the mundane. Perhaps it is part of what separates the true artist from the one that just enjoys dabbling in an art. You have to have such a commitment to the craft that you WANT to do the mundane because you NEED to do the creative.

Pentimento. When I am painting I often add a layer over the original, transforming it and it transforming the one above. Each gains new meaning and understanding from the action of joining them. I think it is that with memories as well. As life brings more knowledge it adds a layer to the memory and the new and old both gain from the interaction. A teacher I had once referred to cleaning his oil paint-filled brushes as a zen moment for him. I was young, and had no understanding of what he meant. I can remember scoffing at it with fellow students after the class. And now, older and more committed to my art, I wash my brushes out in a peaceful sort of trance that eases me from the passion of creation to the normal thought patterns.

burrowing owls

I am working on a painting of three burrowing owls. They live in the town of Rio Rancho, and I am fascinated by them. I thought of submitting this painting to a contest given by the Rio Rancho Art Association that involves images of the city, but I am sure the judges are thinking in terms of landscapes, not funny little ground owls!! Maybe I should submit it just cause it would stand out from the rest. :) Guess the first course of action is to finish the painting and see if it is good enough!

Learning about Acrylics

Yesterday I attended a lecture about Golden brand acrylic paints given by Nancy Reyner at the Artisan Art Supply Store in Albuquerque. I am an oil painter, but I was curious as what I might be able to do with acrylics that I can not do with oils. It was fascinating, and the mediums and gels, and molding pastes definitely caught my attention. I also loved the iridescent acrylics! How fun are those?! I think I will have to experiment with some of the products a bit and see how they feel to work with. Perhaps a hands-on class in my future?

If you are thinking of trying acrylics I can not think of a few hours better spent than listening to this lecture. Nancy was fun - very informative, and the time just flew. Thanks to all who set the lecture up!

Restaurant and Art

Last weekend I hung 15 paintings at Joe's Pasta House in Rio Rancho (New Mexico) with friend and fellow artist Nan Adamson. It is a venue done in conjunction with the Rio Rancho Observer, the Rio Rancho Art Association, of which I am a member, and the Pasta House. It is very different from hanging in a gallery -- the lightening is appropriate for dining, not the art, and so selecting my paintings was based on what works best in that sort of setting. The owner was incredibly gracious, even including a wonderful reception lunch buffet for all the attendees. The food is wonderful, and his prices low. I highly recommend it and not just because he was kind enough to show RRAA art! But look at the walls when you are there! haha. The art hangs for about 6 weeks, then is replaced with art by two more RRAA members. What a wonderful community effort. My thanks to all involved, and my thanks to those patrons that purchased my art!

Talking birds

I have a dear friend, Gordon, who is a wonderful photographer. Out of the goodness of his heart he allows me to see and use any of his photos for inspiration for my paintings. This one of the two birds caught my eye, but it was solemn shot and in the process of painting it I felt the left hand bird begin to enjoy the fountain. I know how odd that sounds, but he talked to me about it, and I was compelled to let him show is feelings. Sometimes these things just happen

imagining a face

I was looking through old tintypes from the southwest -- imagining the men and women who lived and struggled here. As beautiful as the New Mexican land is, it is undeniably harsh, and the people in some of the photos -- particularily of the Native Americans -- showed it. I began thinking of those Natives that battled the calvary to preserve their way of life... and how many of them ended up sequestered on the reservations. In my mind's eye I saw them - -beaten but undefeated, still proud, but with the hardship reflected in their eyes. So this is not any one photo or person, but a number of them, combined to give a face to that image. I have named it 'the undefeated'

THE PLACITAS STUDIO TOUR

This month I participated in the Placitas Studio Tour. It is a unique event where many of the resident artists in the community all open their studios over a single weekend. There are jewelers, painters, sculpters, ceramicists, fabric artists, and much more. Placitas is a mountain side community, with hilly roads that wind and end without any constant pattern so there is much planning involved to make sure each studio can be found by visitors. There are some kind of food and drink offered at each studio, and with so many artists participating I think the visitors can nearly make a meal of it! Here is a picture from my studio with the painting I worked on during part of the tour. I have noticed the people who stop by are very curious about how an artist works, and want to see me actually paint. Because I teach oil painting twice a week I am very used to being watched.

I do wish my home had more room to add other artist friends to the event.

The first blog

I have toyed with the thought of a blog for some time, and at the entusiastic urging of my friend Paula Scott ( a wonderful artist and photographer) I have decided to attempt one. I envision this a way of sharing my art, and the process of creating it, and even perhaps all the meandering thoughts that run through my head about what to paint, and why.