Wednesday, March 27, 2024

WORD PAINTINGS #140 - GUATEMALA 1991 - SEMANA SANTA PART I

BEARERS. OF LIGHT - COFRADIA, IGLESIA DE SANTO TOMAS - 1991

February 1991 - Listening to Joseph the Starwatcher while painting my Taos studio,  I heard an ad from the Center for Anthropological Studies announcing a group trip through Guatemala.  Having just sold a large canvas at my Santa Fe gallery, I thought "Aha, this is my chance to get some good photographs for a new series of paintings!!! Inspired by Clark Hulings paintings of Mexico, this could be my ticket! Enamored by tGeorge Carlson's Tarahumara pastels, the fantastic work of Elias Rivera and Ramon Kelley's wonderful Mexican portraits, I was inspired to go to Guatemala.   The joke in all of this is that I am and always have been severely agoraphobic! What was I thinking?   Deciding to put it all on the line, I signed up and put my money down. Away I go!!!!

The tour was sponsored by an archaeologist and his wife from Albuquerque and led by an expert guide from Arizona. I missed the evening orientation because of the two hour night drive from Taos and figured it was no big deal. Thus everything I experienced in Guatemala came as a total surprise!  Our group assembled at the airport. My bags were packed and I was headed into the Great Unknown!  Buen Viajae!!!!

The airport in Guatemala City was dark and the money changer was not at all friendly to a bunch of noisy Americans. Entering our hotel that first night we were greeted by men with AK47s standing at the entrance.  Shock and Awe - my first clue that this trip for some photos might be quite an intense experience! Hah! What an understatement!  It would be life-changing!  Tremendous street noise from the traffic below my room and the anticipation of a great adventure kept me awake that whole night.

A blessing ritual by a local shaman in who was celebrating his sobriety.  He lit a fire - said prayers to his ancient gods and poured a bottle of whiskey into the flames.  Six years into my own recovery, I gave him a hug.  My group buddies stared in disbelief through the bus windows.  Think I might have been inappropriate.  A long day of visiting sites with huge carved stone Olmec-inspired heads.  Have always felt that these heads in Central America originated from some ancient African culture - early explorers.  A small local "zoo" of four or five emaciated critters gave a first hint that Guatemala was not just an ordinary photo trip! 

Back to Guatemala City and the market on our tour.  I took my first photos in this strange place. Beyond excited by the colors I imagined these images filling all the blank canvases in my studio once back in Taos. We were warned that if we gave one child with their hand out, we would be swarmed by many more.  A very young girl came up to me with a small child who definitely looked as though he was dying. She said he was her baby brother and held out her little hand for a quetzal. Because of our strict warning, I refused.  Her desperation still haunts me. I know why families cross the Rio Grande!

 
The Procession on Good Friday shattered all my illusions about this trip. My head was still in that dreamy slowness of Taos.  Alfombras, colorful carpets of sawdust and flowers lined the streets. Huge crowds lined the cobblestone streets.  Heavy clouds of incense, strange and slow music could be heard in the distance with the heavy regular beat of a drum - a slow and heart stirring dirge.  The crowds parted to make way for the very long and heavy "anda". Eighty to 100 men dressed in purple satin robes and white gloves carried the float on their shoulders supporting a life-sized statue of Christ carrying His cross to Gethsemane. A wagon with the musicians playing the dirge followed behind. Another  much smaller anda followed carried by women in black.  They carried impressive statue of Mary robed in black with a halo of silver stars.  That night many vigils and prayers in the cathedral.  

A long trip from Antigua to Zunil on Holy Saturday.  On the way many chilling stories about kidnappings and disappearances and dire warnings to never travel that road at night - another hint that this might not be a casual photo trip.  I really was clueless!  Cars and busses crowded the town square. Our bus was early and got solidly hemmed in with no escape until the end of the festivities. A brilliant white church in the distance silhouetted by a blue-black stormy sky.  A group of twenty to thirty women in red huipils sat together in front of the church.

Our bus emptied out and I chose to stay behind to photograph from inside the bus. In the distance s a group of women in traditional Mayan dress were in deep conversation - hand-woven huipils - deep purples and blue, magentas and brilliant reds.  With camera lens on zoom I focused on the group. A young girl turned around and saw me, I was caught.  At that moment I truly became an Ugly American!  She glowered menacingly and I motioned that I was putting my camera away.  Chastised and ashamed, I got off the bus and began to wander alone.  A stage was set up in the center of the square for the Passion Play.  Found myself in a little co-op store run by local women to sell their weavings.  Was proudly able to use some broken Spanish and asked the ladies about their work. Their pride in their creativity and their community was a ray of sunshine
 
Soon the sweet smell of incense.... drums, flutes and men in back robes with tall ceremonial hats marched down a steep hill. The high priests of Zunil made their entrance!  Some carried matracas, large window shaped rattles. An eerie combination of noises....the actors assembled on the stage and the villagers played their parts soulfully. We headed back to Antigua before dark.  Was slowly waking to reality - this other world was definitely not the Land of Oz!
 
 

   
A couple of nights at Posada de Belen. Dampness - darkened mood - stories told and passed around about Sister Dianna Ortiz, a young nun from New Mexico who was kidnapped from this very place about 18 months earlier. Her book detailing her capture is told in The Blindfold's Eyes. Reality began to poke through - this was really not what I expected! 
 
As an artist, I am less a participant and more of an observer. I see pictures, details and my senses had been awakened to this place after reading A Forest of Kings: The Untold Story of the Ancient Maya by David Freidel and Linda Shele.  I needed to see the pyramids, those stelae - the trails of the ancient Maya!  I had to stand in those places!  Yes, I got what I wanted and more....much more than ever expected!!  Life changed me in ways I never saw coming!!  This was definitely no ordinary field trip!  TO BE CONTINUED - SEMANA SANTA PART II
  


 


Saturday, October 28, 2023

WORD PAINTINGS #139 - A MAGPIE FUNERAL ON SANTISTEVAN LANE


WORD PAINTINGS #139 (How I Came to New Mexico and Learned about Art and Life) A MAGPIE FUNERAL ON SANTISTEVAN LANE

29 October 2023 (Llano Quemado, New Mexico) - 3AM Friday - Moonshadows on the wall in my bedroom - the Hunter's Moon.  Lifted the shade and the brilliant orb, low on the horizon over Tres Orejas,  shone directly in my line of vision! I said a little thanks and watched it disappear behind the mountains. Big smile all the way back to bed! Lovely!!

"Hunter's Moon (llano Quemado, N.M.

My all-time favorite TV series was, is and always will be Northern Exposure - adventures and misadventures of a tightly connected group of eccentrics in Cicely, Alaska.  The entire 6 seasons are now available on Amazon - with the original music! Am just finishing Season Four, cherishing each episode.  Darren Burrows plays Native American Ed Chigliak.  Earlier this month I was looking for a new movie and found an older and grayer Darren Burrows playing the lead in "A Magpie Funeral". Part of the story is that his father was a birdwatcher, but had never seen a Magpie funeral because it was very rare that humans could witness these beautiful birds crying in grief over one of their own.

Thirty years ago I rented a house on Santistevan Lane in Taos.  My art studio was in a the front of the house in a well-insulated converted garage. Through the warm months I would open the door to the sunny days and especially to hear the birds singing in my neighbor's apple tree. The workers at the end of our road had the bad habit of coming and  going at great speed. One of them hit and killed a magpie and it lay sad and alone  in the gutter near Mr. Romero's red fence.  There was a small bush next to the fence.  Went out and picked up the lifeless bird and laid him to rest under the chamisa. Soon witnessed a gathering of about ten magpies wailing and keening in the street as they hopped around their dead friend. Their grief was palpable. The sad ritual lasted for a few days until one day there was silence - their period of mourning was over.

Needless to say part of me changed forever after feeling the grief from this flock of mourners. Serious thoughts about life and death - my own mortality - when and how.  Most of all this crossing over from my human version of grief to witnessing the deep sorrow of birds!  If this was a rare experience, it was beyond magical. DC


  

Friday, September 29, 2023

WORD PAINTINGS #138 - METAMORPHOSIS

WORD PAINTINGS #138  (How I Came to New Mexico and Learned about Art and Life)- METAMORPHOSIS .....
 
"Nietzsche was the one who did the job for me. At a certain moment in his life,the idea came to him of what he called 'the love of your fate.' Whatever your fate is, whatever the hell happens, you say, 'This is what I need.' It may look like a wreck, but go at it as though it were an opportunity, a challenge. If you bring love to that moment--not discouragement--you will find the strength is there. Any disaster you can survive is an improvement in your character, your stature, and your life. What a privilege! This is when the spontaneity of your own nature will have a chance to flow.
Then, when looking back at your life, you will see that the moments which seemed to be great failures followed by wreckage were the incidents that shaped the life you have now. You’ll see that this is really true. Nothing can happen to you that is not positive. Even though it looks and feels at the moment like a negative crisis, it is not. The crisis throws you back, and when you are required to exhibit strength, it comes." ~Joseph Campbell 
 
17 September 2023 (Llano Quemado, New Mexico) - FIRST SNOW IN TRUCHAS
 

WORD PAINTINGS #138 (How I Came to New Mexico and learned about Art and Life) - Metamorphosis
 
29 September (Llano Quemado, N.M.) Full moon tonight - stirrings - almost time to begin my winter work.... hibernation....sanctuary.  Weatherman forecasts rain for several days - we need it. Some early snow on the mountains - Taos, Truchas, Red River.  A string of quiet days. 
 
Taos Pueblo will be open for San Geronimo Feast Day tomorrow - Runners to sacred Blue Lake - dances - the shift in energy is palpable.  Remembering the days when I first experienced the dances. What a thrill to feel the ground pulse with the drums and to see Corn Mother emerge leading her group of dancers!  Enchantment.
 
One September an unforgettable Feast Day at Acoma.  I climbed the ancient stone stairs up to the top of the mesa.  Met a wonderful pueblo Grandmother who taught me about the clans and the tablitas worn by the women dancers.  It was the day a new Governor of the Pueblo took office - and the some of the men dressed as emissaries from countries all over the world paid homage to the honoree.  They were funny - great joy and much laughter! A wonderful bowl of chile at one of the private homes.
Awe - amazement - life changing.....my heart opened.
 
Remembering my 44th birthday at the little cottage on the horse ranch in Truchas with friends and family.  That was the true beginning of my life in the mountains.  When I blew out the candles on my cake, my wish (hope) was to live another 44 years.  It seemed so ridiculous to plan so far ahead, but I had people to meet and things to do.  Well, I am four short years from that time now - and the best of my story is that I still have people to meet and paintings to paint.
 
Time to begin my winter work - still have several large canvases I want to complete.  They will be a challenge - am much slower now than I was at 44!  So much mystery to a blank canvas sitting on an easel in front of me.  Another empty-handed leap - so curious to see what happens....
 
 "Any disaster you can survive is an improvement in your character, your stature, and your life. What a privilege!"  My heart is so full of everything all the disasters and the miracles large and small!  Loving my Fate that brought me to this moment 84 Septembers ago! What a wonderful time to be alive in this place! Grateful!

Footnote: "Some things are better left to chance - I might have missed the pain, but I'd have missed the dance" - Garth Brooks
 

Tuesday, September 5, 2023

WORD PAINTINGS #137 - SEPTEMBER SONG

WORD PAINTINGS #137 (How I Came to New Mexico and Learned About Art and Life) - SEPTEMBER SONG

                 SEPTEMBER SONG (Vadito, New Mexico) - http://fineartamerica.com/profiles/1-donna-clair.html?page=1

1 September 1939 - The infamous day in history when Hitler invaded Gdansk, Poland.  Joined Ancestry last year and found that many of my relatives were born and lived in that port city. Discovered that the first Nazi concentration camp was constructed in the surrounding forests - it was also the last to be demolished.. Childhood memories of my grandmother's screened porch in Chicago. A group of aunts and cousins packing large cartons of warm clothing to be sent to family in Poland.  My simple task was to stitch paper money into the hem of a large satin-lined black coat.  A few weeks later letters of thanks would arrive in Polish and then translated by my grandmother from her kitchen table.  After a time no more letters arrived. There was much conversation around the kitchen table in hushed Polish and then total silence. We didn't send anymore boxes.  I really don't know what happened, I was a young child. A larger contingent of my Polish family centered near the Ukranian border.

3 September 1939 - Being born into an incredibly dysfunctional family on this crucial and very important day in our country's history formed me in very profound ways.  More than six years of my life were all about The War - from beginning to end.  Every member of my family was affected by sad and intense life experiences. This was an extraordinary time! Some older members were still trying to recover from the Depression. Once War was declared they had to turn around and go into high gear to support our efforts to fight the Nazis. On the nights my brother and I stayed with my grandparents, Grampa Jim would tuck us in whispering "Remember - a slip of the lip could sink a ship". We didn't understand and the three of us laughed as if it was a joke.

Grampa Jim was our hero!   Working as a butcher at the Fulton Street Meat Market, he often provided a little extra in the way of meat that one couldn't buy with ration coupons.  There seemed never to be enough food. The women would often gather and trade coupons depending on their needs.  Jim rounded up my Dad, Uncle Roy and his brother.  They would fill a cooler with beer and head out to Lake Michigan to fish for perch and bluegills.  They cleaned the fish right at the lake, Grandma would spread newspapers on her kitchen table and start the Friday night Fish Fry!!!  Absolute joy in spite of the looming darkness. (Note: Word paintings #117 - A Candle for Grampa Jim - https://donnaclairwordpaintings.blogspot.com/2022/04/word-paintings-117-candle-for-grampa-jim.html)

Uncle Roy and Aunt Jeanette married just days before he was sent to fight. Their wedding photo shows the two of them so bright and young. He is in his uniform. He fought in Burma and Calcutta alongside a large company of British soldiers.  My Dad's tall and handsome brother Alvin was sent overseas and fought in the Battle of the Bulge. Sometime after September 2, 1945 they returned, no longer fresh faced but sadly broken and worn.  Roy suffered night terrors and would think that his wife sleeping next to him was the enemy and would react violently.  We were not close to Uncle Al, but am certain it took the rest of his life to deal with what he experienced during combat.

My Dad suffered, too. He failed his medical examination because of a bad ear and could not serve.  I'm certain he felt a certain shame and loneliness when most conversation centered on the family and neighbors who were fighting overseas.  An envelope came for him one day and enclosed was a white feather - the sign for cowardice.  He became broken in his own way.

On VJ Day there was a great celebration on the porch of our house on Whipple Street.  The Nazis were vanquished, Japan signed the treaty, the Great War was over - everyone rejoiced and got really drunk!  Our men came home to lives they no longer recognized.  Nothing could replace the time they lost.  They had done their jobs so bravely but being conquering heroes only lasted a short time before they had to begin to rebuild their lives. And there were those who never came home. One family on our street displayed small white satin flag with gold fringe in their front window. Centered on the flag were four gold stars....their boys were lost in combat.  When passing their house, we purposely averted our eyes and walked a little faster. Their grief was palpable.

On September 3rd 1939 my mother took an elevator to the Maternity Ward in Cook County Hospital thinking that my father would soon be sent to fight.  Those feelings lasted all through my early childhood.  Their fears became mine and the shadows have lasted a lifetime. 

It makes me cry when I think of all those we lost "winning" WWII.  It makes me angry and very sad to see bright young men wearing khakis marching with swaztikas and tiki torches yelling "Jews will not replace us!" What is wrong with these people??? What is wrong is that they didn't live through any war, they just want to create one! They are too young to know the reality of a real War! Their grandparents died never telling their stories!

We walk and talk and live our long lives unaware of how our early life experiences shaped us.  Out there somewhere are still many people who lived during that time.  We need to remember! We need to tell or stories.... 

                                            

Saturday, August 26, 2023

WORD PAINTINGS #136 - ART GODS AND LIFE ARROWS

      HOLY FAMILY WITH FOUR SAINTS AND A FEMALE DONOR - Antonio Rimpata 1509-1531

WORD PAINTINGS # 136 (How I Came to New Mexico and learned about Life and Art)

 28 August 2023 - Art Gods and Life Arrows ! Reunion! How amazing that this image came back into my life after I saw the original painting for first time over sixty years ago!  Looked for it everywhere, but mistakenly attributed it to an Italian painter named Mantegna. Last month a Facebook friend who works at the Amsterdam Museum posted a Mantegna and I sent her a query about this painting. She is an amazing art resource and found this photo the same day even though it had been painted by an artist named Rimpata! 

During the early '60s I worked as a secretary for Holiday Magazine on the 23rd Floor of the Prudential Building.  The Chicago Art Institute was only blocks away from the office and I spent many, many lunch hours looking at paintings....Impressionists, the Orientalists and Renaissance rooms. This image still takes my breath away!  Stopped in my tracks I sat in front of it for hours studying the magnificent pattern of light on the figures.  With all my heart I wanted to be a "real" painter. This piece enthralled and humbled me at the same time because it showed me the obvious - I was very young and I didn't even know what I didn't know!  

Signed up for night classes in the basement of the Institute.  Bought a portfolio and large newsprint pad - some charcoal and a kneaded eraser.  The fumes of oil paints, turpentine and linseed oil in those hallways gave me so much joy! I wanted to live in that place. After several "lessons" it became clear that my teacher had no idea of what I needed from him.  He kept telling us to BE FREE! What the hell did that mean? Not knowing where to begin - unaware of even the basics that underlie a finished painting, I was a blank canvas.  He was a beatnik and this was his night job and he was not at all inspiring!  Picked up my portfolio before the end of the semester and walked out - a little sad, but still determined to find My Way!

Put my portfolio together and sent in my application to be a full-time student at the school. One of about 4000 applicants only 600 hundred were accepted!  Full tuition needed to be paid the first year and  applications for grants and scholarships would be determined the second year of study. I was accepted as a  first year student.  Asked my father to forego the financial help I was giving them so I could pay my tuition.  Even today I can still feel him standing over me and barking "No daughter of mine will ever be an artist!!!" I was determined to find a way out. 

Painting is a craft - a puzzle and it takes a whole lifetime to fit the pieces together. These figures in this great work were composed on a very large well-prepared canvas (how do you prepare a canvas?) and the lights and shadows tell the story of the importance of the figures.  I later learned about "glazing" but that word did not exist in my art vocabulary! 

This painting still resides at the Art Institute. In a way it was good that I never really made it to art school. My path of learning took me to Santa Fe, Truchas, Taos, Guatemala - many years and many adventures!  Who knew? Expressing my gratitude to Signor Rimpata (my first Art God) and my kind friend in Amsterdam.  What I didn't know about painting then has taken me a lifetime of searching and learning - and several thousand paintings later there is still so much to learn - one day at a time. DC

Saturday, August 19, 2023

WORD PAINTINGS #135 - STORMY WEATHER

WORD PAINTINGS #135 (How I came to New Mexico and Learned about Life and Art)  

19 August 2023 (Llano Quemado, New Mexico) -  Remnants of a HURRICANE are headed our way!  The outer bands of rain are predicted for sometime tomorrow. The last major storm headed through Mexico and the California Coast 84 years ago in September 1939 - the month I was born!!  Headed straight for Baja and deep into California. Latest update: the storm is edging eastward. People boarding up their windows, loading sandbags - preparing for disastrous flooding.  People in Florida are still recovering from their hellish storm last year.  Devastation is quick - recovery is slow.  The winds are picking up this afternoon - waiting for rain!  Fires, floods, pandemics.....

84 years later....Wondering if  this is an omen - that I have come full circle and now it is time to pack up my easel and put my paints and brushes away! As mentioned in an earlier post, the prolonged heat wave knocked the stuffing out of me.  Now that the weather is cooler am finding it difficult to regain my momentum. Damn!!!  Blocked in small studies and set out a palette of fresh paints - maybe tomorrow....

The Indictments are also taking their toll....we are going into Season 70 of the hellish Tr__pathon!  This is way more serious than previous political clown shows in that the news is so pervasive and shocking - and as a nation we are numb from the blatant insanity.  A nation with a bad case of PTSD!  Spoke with a beloved relative yesterday. He began a rant on children in his state being read graphic sex stories in the first grade....and parents turning their children trans through unnecessary surgeries.  There was no use arguing - this is what he truly believes and I love him dearly.  Told him as gently as I could that we are on opposite sides, but I am heartbroken!!! SAD......I really want to go back to bed and stay there forever! It is no comfort that many other families are in this same position with loved ones.   Note:(Had a strong sponsor in AA 38 years ago. Whenever I had a serious case of "monkey-mind" she would quietly tell me to "Do whatever makes you Sane!!!)

Okay, Donna - Knockers up!!! I would love to wallow in the sadness for at least a week, but my motto is "As long as there is breath in my body, I need to keep moving"!!!  Pulling out the monumental George Carlson tome of his art and career and plan to be inspired once more.  Am always energized by his work. Then a book on Victor Higgins and at least an hour of staring at my all-time favorite painting  called "A Winter Funeral".     It might take me until Monday to cleanse out the dust and grime collected during this dry spell - total immersion in my art life.) By that time Hurricane Hillary (oh, the irony) should be downgraded to a tropical storm! 

Coming up Next - Chapter Two of "Dreams of Distant Places - ART GODS AND LIFE ARROWS). 

"HUICHOL" Pastel on Sanded paper by Donna Clair - At the International Folk art Museum, Santa Fe, New Mexico

Thursday, August 10, 2023

WORD PAINTINGS #134 - DREAMS OF DISTANT PLACES!

13 July 2023 (Llano Quemado, New Mexico)  As I approached the bedroom window this morning my little red fox streaked by in her hurry to go places! A huge layer of dark storm clouds hung over the distant mountains called Tres Orejas.  Across West Romero Road my neighbor released his flock of doves for their morning flyover!  Their wings shone silver against the dark blue sky.  They flock together and reconnect on a roof nearby......sunrise! Another fine day on the Llano !! 

9 August 2023 (Llano Quemado) - Yes, the heat wave flattened me! Now I know why old people die during a prolonged period of intense hot weather. No air conditioning, just fans. No breezes, just unbearably hot air.   Unable to cook, didn't eat much - forgot to pay bills. Painting was out of the question. Finished "Cloud People" on 22 June - no time at the easel since.  Tried, but gave up. Finally a small shower enough to cool the gasping earth. Then one good rainstorm - no fans, windows open to the cool breezes - Aaaah!  Yesterday was  the best day. Tended to much needed  personal upkeep - a great night's sleep and here I am all over again! Revived!  Ready, set go!!!

DREAMS OF DISTANT PLACES

 

As a young child I had an ever constant urge to run away....disappear, become invisible. My safe place was in pages of many, many books. My first library card was the very best day of my young life!! At least five books a week - every evening after dinner interesting people became my friends escaped into distant places and exotic cultures!However...of course there is always "something" that holds one's dreams hostage. At an early age I was beginning my inner adventure with agoraphobia and severe panic attacks. Those conditions were never diagnosed and my family described me as "extremely shy".  Thanks to those wonderful Walter Foster art books, I was learning to draw!  Basic shapes, shadows, composition - books, drawing, painting -I disappeared into my own kind of happiness....

Fast forward to my junior year at Pulaski High in Milwaukee. I began to open up and let the sun shine in....one friend, one class at a time. Mr. Calabrese sat me in the front row of his Biology class - called on me often. Answered all questions and fostered in me a surprising glimpse of  self-confidence. He ignored the fact that I skipped two days of school when the class dissected frogs! Still love him for understanding.

Sara Fernald taught World Literature and introduced me to Henrik Ibsen, the Brontes and Thomas Hardy. I experienced the absolute joy of reading deep and complex stories. My confidence in my own abilities began to grow. She taught me the beauty of WORDS! and was the first teacher that truly "got me!"  Believe she remembered herself at the age of 15. Always available to suggest a new book, play or author - she opened my world in unimaginable ways. Named one of my twins "Sarah".

My Hero - Mr. Dodge (alias Mr. Peepers to his students) art teacher extraordinaire!  A wiry middle-aged man with the appearance of a startled chicken due to a thin shock of hair that stood straight up in the center of his head!  He encouraged beyond all others in the class; gave me special assignments and urged me to enter two local contests which I won! I can still picture him coming to my desk with curiosity and excitement over the day's lesson.

Ole! Ole! Here come the Spanish Queens of the Foreign Language Department - The Misses Flynn and Schaefer!!! What a Dynamic Duo!  Ms. Flynn was a short, plump and very jolly Irish lady with bright red hair.  Ms. Schaefer was  usually quite straight-laced and serious when she taught my Beginning Spanish Class. Every Spring Break they packed their bags and headed to somewhere in Latin America!  In 1956 they spent their whole vacation in Guatemala - Easter Sunday in Chichicastenango - and returned to my class to excitedly share their adventures.  In my mind I was transported to that strange and exotic place. That sunny spring day  in Milwaukee, Wisconsin I promised my young self that I would spend  some future Easter Sunday in Chichicastenango, Guatemala.  It only took me 40 years......To Be Continued.  

WORD PAINTINGS #140 - GUATEMALA 1991 - SEMANA SANTA PART I

BEARERS. OF LIGHT - COFRADIA, IGLESIA DE SANTO TOMAS - 1991 February 1991 - Listening to Joseph the Starwatcher while painting my Taos studi...