PostcardsPostcard from New Mexico Spring 2010 Postcard from New Mexico Autumn 2006 |
Postcards from New Mexico Spring 2010
Even more amazing to me- that my life as an autonomous person, a woman self-reliant, self-motivated and even self-sustained, has continued quite naturally to develop and expand in a most extraordinary manner, buttressed by the financial leavings of a 12 year marriage. Thank God there was that, and even that seems as much mine as my solitude, my calloused hands, my resilient spirit and big head full of imaginings, beautiful imaginings. It’s still a funny town, Las Cruces. Still a cultural backwater full of couples who fixate on each other, on their insular lives; full of old crotchety ‘seniors’ who migrated here from Nebraska or Michigan, I don’t know where, who write bigoted comments to the daily (disappointment) newspaper; of established New Mexican families who struggle with poverty and resist change, even for the betterment of the community at large. But beyond all that, there is vibrancy, a vitality that sparkles like a gem in a gravel patch. My work, my real and dear friendships, and of course, the dogs, an occasional man, and an escape in Nadine the RV once in a while, or on a plane to somewhere dense and noisy…when I crave a dose of high culture, art museums, jazz clubs, galleries that show challenging work…that noisy abundance. This March I escaped to Philadelphia for the Southern Graphics Council’s annual conference of printmakers. It was linked to a city-wide celebration of the graphic arts titled ‘Philagrafika’ and I thrived on nothing but exhibitions, demonstrations of technique at fine University art departments, and panel discussions. This went on for three days. I gained friends and walked away at least four pounds.
My work with the image continues to sustain me. I paint less than I make handprints, only because they are flat and easier to store than canvases. It’s come to that! Where to put it all? My fortune is tied up in framing and my final studio configuration is in the east facing sunroom of a 50’s home in the heart of the old city. Last year was an experiment in traveling to art shows, good art shows that juried me in. Many miles, much hard physical work and few sales- a lesson in what’s not working. Failure may be too harsh a word, but I don’t really think it’s healthy to regret. To dare and to fail seems to energize me…lesson learned. And so we artists plod along. It’s a very challenging time. We work with focus and deep commitment and we adapt to the changes, maybe even thrive. I am grateful for so many things and so many people, and I still live with an abiding trust in the generosity of the Universe, the sureness of a star that hovers above me.
Postcards from New Mexico Autumn 2006 Would I sound petty to comment on the distractions of 17 inches of rain? Not since 1958 have we swatted mosquitoes with such vigor, nor made claims to our insurers for new roofs and new windshields. Imagine a 'weak tornado' sighting in southern New Mexico! 
I cannot grieve for my shredded garden, having yielded so bountifully of tomatoes and melons, and squash and roses and the mother of all gourd vines, before it submitted to the hail stone thrashing that occurred on Sept. 13. I cannot cry about the leak over my big ol' bed, knowing that the roof was old and ready to fail anyway…so what if it became tattered lace before it did. I rejoice under my new roof and rake up the garden debris with a wealth of canning jars stacked in the pantry. The papermaking class I taught at Ghost Ranch was wonderful and gratifying on so many levels. Imagine being paid and lodged in O'Keeffe's high desert home to share what I know and inspire brilliant and naïve sheets of colored pulp from six beautiful women! A glorious experience. The workshop with Karen Kunc in Vermillion, South Dakota was also a jewel. An amazing international artist. I aspire to her level of proficiency and artistry. Since returning I have been doing a lot more woodcuts with her reduction techniques in my fingertips. It's a great break-through for me. (See Handprints) The opening at Tierra Montana Gallery was a real fete. An elegant idea, a dinner party with 12 patrons, catered and served in the center of the gallery with all good things to eat and drink and a hearty discussion about art, my art. Thank you to the innovative gallery owners Cindi and Ben.  And finally, my birthday gift to myself, Nadine, is a marvelous art cart that will serve me well en plein air painting the great expanses of the desert landscape. When the studio begins to close in on me, it's on the road with paint and sketch book!
The Long Lingering Summer 2005 Would I sound petty to comment on the distractions of 17 inches of rain? Not since 1958 have we swatted mosquitoes with such vigor, nor made claims to our insurers for new roofs and new windshields. Imagine a 'weak tornado' sighting in southern New Mexico! 
The raven sits on the rusted stove pipe above the door, and startles me with his throaty greeting as I step out. The dogs dart up the path eager to catch a cottontail off guard from his morning rounds in the chamisa. Furtively sniffing, ever hoping. The ravens tend to stay off in the tall dead trees on the cliffside and so I consider it auspicious that one came down to greet us that morning. What was he saying in his gravelly voice? I have returned from a month in the glorious and colorful Piedra Lumbre (shining stone) region of Northern New Mexico. Renting a small cabin, the dogs and me, with a few clothes, dog toys, and a car load of art supplies, I set to work. I made a 'nest', put away the phone, and let it happen to me for a month of listening to the ravens, watching the sky, and painting away the mornings, reading through the heat of the day, and carving new images on wood or linoleum in the cool dusk. Plein air painting speaks to my very soul and gives me a visceral sensation like nothing else: the cool air, the sounds of birds, the warming sun, and the brilliant beauty to behold as I assess with my brush and paints. No vast landscapes for me, my focus was on iconic and monumental forms; looming masses, strength in line and volume and a power that is awesome to behold. I will call these the Piedra Lumbre Suite. (See Landscape) 
Now that I am back, I am engaged in the mining of recent imagery, some so obscure that they may be a while in surfacing. The time of regeneration and listening will surely bloom as I attempt to express the experience. The desert welcomed me home with evening rain and a cooling of temperatures, I am glad to be back.
The globe willows leaf out and become sap green light bulbs in the desert vista. All along the ditches (acequias in northern New Mexico) we walk and wonder at the emerging growth. I don't know if the dogs are struck by it quite like I am but they seem to have Spring in their step. The warming air is a sensual caress as I work to plant the new garden behind the studio. Great to be back in the dirt again, making beauty from open ground. "My very own garden" comes to mind. 
Woodcut printing has captured my imagination in an obsessive sort of way. I have to make myself come up for air. (See Handprints) I leave March 30 for the SGI conference to be with a world of printmakers and speakers, collections, demonstrations and portfolio sharing and showing. How very exciting to have this opportunity! Plans for the summer include a stay at a rented studio up near Ghost Ranch. A month of working in the plein air with dogs accompanying me and little else other than easel, inks and paper. And, in May, a road trip tour of galleries from Bisbee to Santa Fe, hoping to make my connection in a few special venues. The woodcuts are what I suspect will be the most appealing in this region of a thousand painters. Wish me luck!
Winter in the Desert Winter 2004 
The romance continues. I gaze up at the Organ Mountains with every trip into town and am awestruck once again. No, I was not successful in giving up winter, but she is a much easier tormenter in this land of almost constant sunshine. The mountains look like a crunchy-crusted confection dusted with powdered sugar, and that is only in the early morning, melting by noon. Cruz Nopal Studio: The exterior of the studio restoration has been completed, it looks a bit too new but in another fifty years or so we'll regain that patina. Glorious additions such as a hand carved viga and corbel in the back and Spanish colonial wooden doors as sentinels to the garden. By spring I expect green growth to cover the fence and create that private garden I feel so necessary for my sanity. The fountain trickles noisily and the neighbors slow down as they admire from their pick-up trucks. Muy Mexicano… LA PRENSA/SOUTHWEST PRINTMAKERS is climbing to its feet. Eight strong printmakers make up the core group and our second exhibition is at Cruz Nopal Studio for the Thanksgiving weekend. Will keep the next year's schedule posted as it takes shape. (See Handprints) I am pleased to have a show of my own woodcuts lined up for a gallery in Santa Fe this coming spring…work to do!!
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To my endless amazement (and amusement), I admit to having lived in this desert oasis for six years now! 