ON THE ROAD....1968

The New Year celebrations were very quiet on Alegre Street that year.  It was a time of adjustment, settling into routines. The babies were growing fast and developing their own personalities.  I loved watching them; every day there was something new.  They were funny little people and I enjoyed being their mother. Although I was excited by the newness of Santa Fe, I did not have a sense of belonging anywhere.  Winter gave way to spring and when the snow melted, the same old weedy yard stared back at me...I was depressed.

We celebrated my son's third birthday at the end of May.  The following month I would be taking a bus to Cloudcroft for the painting workshop with Jan Herring.  She sent a list of supplies I would need and we headed to Langell's Art Store in Albuquerque.  The place was huge and the smell of turpentine and oil paints woke me up to life again.  I got out that little wooden box and filled it with the new paint tubes and brushes.  My only reservations were in leaving the babies for a week, but I was assured that their dad and Ernie would take good care of them.

This was an opportunity for me to learn how to paint!  It is one thing to want to be an artist; you can talk about it, dress like an artist, but doing art takes time and dedication.  The "craft of painting" is a life-long learning process.  I recognized this opportunity as my New Beginning.  All kinds of emotions went through me the day I boarded that Greyhound Bus...in the back of my mind I still heard my father's voice saying "No daughter of mine will be an artist"!  What I realized then is that choosing art as a way of being is the ultimate act of rebellion.  I carried with me a little book of Willa Cather's short stories The Troll Garden and read "Flavia's Artist".  This was definitely my empty-handed leap into the Great Unknown - I had no idea that this was the real beginning of the rest of my life!

HISTORY LESSONS

Stories - I love stories!!! Being a newcomer, everyone wanted to tell me their own family history in New Mexico.  I listened and asked questions.  Most often I was given the gift of generations; stories passed down through families - oral histories that never found their way into print.   It became a habit to listen - my only regret is that I didn't write all of it down - some of it is now lost to memory,

Santa Fe was very small in 1968.  Ernie was well known among the "in crowd" having been introduced by Margaret Jamison.  She created quite a local clientele for his sculptures.  One core group was made up of doctors, lawyers, realtors - all long time residents. At one of these parties I met a prominent realtor named Laughlin Barker who told me that his mother had written a book called The Wind Leaves No Shadow.  It was the story of La Dona Tules, a young girl from Taos who later owned the largest Monte parlor located in Burro Alley.  She became so rich that when she died, she offered a substantial sum of money to the church. She insisted that her grave to be situated right next to the Cathedral.  This was a place of honor among Santa Fe society. Am sure it caused quite a scandal, but the Archibishop took her money and gave her an honored spot in the little graveyard.  (Many years later I worked for a law office on Cathedral Place in the old Archbishop's office.  Was friends with a Mr. Merton, the Custodian of the Cathedral.  One day he ran in to tell me that they were expanding the church buildings and that day they were transferring the remains of La Dona Tules to another cemetery, possibly Rosario which was right over our back fence when we lived on Alegre St.!)

Through Ernie we met Bernique Longley, well known Santa Fe painter who lived on Camino del Monte Sol.  She had built her studio/house from scratch, brick by brick!  She told me stories of her neighborhood - that Willa Cather would visit and stay in a house next to her. Bernique was a great party giver (she sold a lot of her paintings through social connections).  At one party I was introduced to photographer Laura Gilpin.  I sat next to her while she told me stories of her Navajo family on the reservation - subjects of her most iconic photos.  Well known poet and translator Witter Bynner lived right up the road, as did Randall Davey.  The sad part is that I had no idea who these people were in the context of Santa Fe history - my regret is that I didn't pay close enough attention.  The atmosphere at these gatherings was electric, gossipy and oozed creativity!  I was in Art Heaven!

Some afternoons I had the chance to walk down to the Plaza and just explore.  I loved the Native Americans selling their jewelry in front of the Governor's Palace.  The museum was a mandatory stop for me.  Spent many hours at the Shop of the Rainbow Man; my main purpose was to stare at two Nicolai Fechin drawings hung high up in a dusty corner of the shop - they were price at $2000 each back in the day.  There was a bookseller right down the street under an old portal.  He had a full set of novels by Thomas Hardy, signed by the artist and priced at $400!  The books were situated on the top shelf of the shop away from lookie-loos.  He took one volume down and let me open it, I touched Hardy's signature!  I still lust after that set of books!!  That day I bought a copy of Ruth Barker's book about La Dona Tules!

One of the worst experiences of my life brought me to this beautiful place with these all amazing people.  I was beginning to wonder if our move had nothing to do with my marriage.  Was it possible that I was born in Chicago by accident and I really belonged in New Mexico from the very beginning?

BLOOM WHERE YOU ARE PLANTED!

Santa Fe 1967 - A very smart self-help guru once said "If you don't know what to do, do nothing".  The trip through the mountains on the back of that Harley was what I needed to settle down and stop moping around.  It is not healthy to stay sad forever!  I needed to take stock of my situation, look around and be grateful for surviving so far - there was a lot of life still in me, I had just numbed myself out in order to get from Chicago to Santa Fe.  It was time to make some decisions.  Truthfully I wanted out of my marriage, but decided to make a genuine effort to try and make it work.  My most important decision was to be content with what I had at that moment....my three beautiful babies, and this bright and beautiful place called New Mexico.  So I washed dishes, changed babies, scrubbed floors, swept up piles and piles of Cheerios - and when time allowed, I painted.  Little by little I started to feel human again.

There was a sketch class every Tuesday evening in the basement of the art museum.  It cost $5.00 to work from a nude model for two hours.  I got a large newsprint sketchpad and some vine charcoal.  My husband babysat and Ernie gave me a ride to the museum.  I had never worked from life before.  The room was narrow with a platform in the middle for the model to pose.  One fellow would get very excited and peek under his arm to see if anyone was looking at the size of his erection! What is this decadence?  It surprised me to discover that I was a real prude!  That was the beginning of the end to some shyness on my part!  I loved the class - no teacher, just a facilitator who took our money which paid for the model.  By the time the classes were over I was able to focus enough and came away with some very good drawings!

Next I signed up to stuff flyers in envelopes for Gene McCarthy's campaign.  It was only one afternoon a week and I got to meet some very interesting people.  New Mexico politics at that time was still trying to grow out of the old political system called "the Chicken Montoyas".  I never understood the meaning of that phrase, only that it was the way it was done in the past. The intrigue was fascinating!  Even though the campaign did not end well, my choice to get involved helped me feel a little more grounded in this new place.

In early December the twins celebrated their first birthday.  I bought some party hats and made a big "twinnie" birthday cake - we had balloons and little presents for all three.  It became a tradition that we put up our Christmas tree right after their birthday. My husband and Ernie went off into the woods and came back with a pine tree with a really bare backside - it didn't matter, this was progress! We unpacked our stash of ornaments, untangled the lights and the old house was made brighter and happier!

Ernie exhibited his sculptures at Cita Platt's gallery in El Paso.  She had a pre-Christmas group show for all the artists that year.  While there, Ernie met Jan Herring a very successful painter and teacher from the small farming town, Clint, Texas.  Jan taught week-long painting workshops at the Lodge in Cloudcroft every year.  On the slimmest chance he thought I would be able to attend, Ernie paid the tuition and signed me up for one week of classes the following summer!    Was I being given a chance to bloom?     



 

INTO THE LIGHT....

Santa Fe 1967 - Altitude sickness overcame me our first month in Santa Fe - sleepy, very tired.  The days were spent changing diapers, feeding babies, unpacking boxes and trying to adjust to all the changes.  The girls were beginning to crawl and had to be watched every minute.  They had these little stroller seats with trays and could roll around the living room bouncing into one another. A pile of Cherrios kept them happy. My son was restless and still trying to figure out how to get along with his sisters and his new environment.  In a way he needed me more than the girls.  That September was a time of doing the things in life which must be done - first things first - one day at a time.  I missed the familiarity of my old life in Chicago.

Our little adobe house was ancient and in the mid to late stages of decay.  The yard was rather forlorn and weedy.  The only view was toward the dirt road that ended at our place.   Although I made a great effort to be cheerful and present, I was hurt and angry to be facing all these changes due to my husband's betrayal.  This was a very sad and lonely time for me.  It was a relief when he went to teach every day.   There was no going back from this dark place - in sickness and in health, until death do us part. I regretted saying those vows because now they meant less than nothing.

My children kept me focused on their well being.There was no way I could fall apart.  Although I felt strained at the seams, they needed me to be healthy and whole.  My saving grace was the routine necessary to keep them well nourished and loved.   They needed me - I couldn't fall apart.  The only thing missing was a chart or a map as to how to move forward - in the meantime we all needed some good naps!

Our friend and neighbor, Ernie, bought a Harley! It was the end of September.  One Saturday he came roaring over and took my husband for a ride.  It was my turn.  I had no idea what to expect.  Off I rode into city traffic holding on tight - riding off into the great unknown without a helmet!  In a short time we were out of traffic and climbing.  There were open spaces on either side.  A few adobe houses here and there. The sky was a brilliant New Mexico blue.  Yellow aspen trees began to appear, pinons- we climbed higher and higher.  The wind, the trees - and finally we were in a place at the top of a mountain - the light was blinding.  He told me this was Hyde Park.  I didn't know it then, but Ernie was another Wayshower.

At first I didn't know what I was feeling....is this freedom?  As I am writing this today the words from Me and Bobby McGee keep popping into my head "Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose."

SANTA FE - 1967

Santa Fe was another country to me.  Would like to say that I readily adapted, but it took a long time for me to adjust, it didn't happen right away.  In Chicago all the art was in museums - in this new town of mine art was being made all around me - the town was bursting with creative energy!

It's hard to picture Santa Fe without wall to wall galleries the way it is today, some good, some very bad - and many in between. There were only two galleries in town in 1967.  Jean Seth, wife of Judge Oliver Seth, had opened her Canyon Road Gallery and carried the work of mostly local painters.  Canyon Road was paved as far as Delgado Street and was unpaved the rest of the way.  Many artists had lived there for years and opened their doors to visitors.  Hal West kept an old coffee pot on his wood stove, invited people in to chat and perhaps buy a painting. Olive Rush, Janet Lippincott and Bernique Longley were three working artists I remember.  El Farol was near the gallery and Three Cities of Spain was a restaurant.  On special nights they put a little stage in the main room and put on plays.  Remember being there to see a play by Moliere!  Yes, I was living among real live working artists and it was so exciting!

Our friend Ernie exhibited his sculptures at Margaret Jamison's Gallery which was located across from La Fonda.  Margaret  (above portrait by Julian Robles) was a dynamo and was well connected to the Santa Fe social scene.  She had a big heart and supported her artists like a Mama Bear, even going up to Taos and bailing one of them out of jail.  She also had great integrity.  Several very expensive bronzes she sold turned out to be fakes.  She informed the buyers and bought them back.  She had a particular fondness for the Taos artists.  Also carried many works by the Taos founders as well as Fechin and Gaspard.  Her last marriage was celebrated in Gaspard's Taos home.  Her home was filled with important art - Tamara de Lempicka, Nicolai Fechin, Gaspard and many paintings by up and coming talents in New Mexico.  In later years we became great friends; she was a surrogate mother to me and I loved who she was as a person.  Am certain there will be more about Margaret in later posts - she was mentor, friend and "Aunt Margaret" to my children. I still miss her.

Bernie Bowman and his partner ran a frame shop near Burro Alley.  There was no art supply store, but they had a table with some brushes in jars, a few sketch books and the most asked for colors in oil paints.  More than a store it was a great place to hear all the latest art talk and gossip!

Truth is I was in awe of this place.  I still didn't fit in anywhere - but I wanted to be one of them!  I wanted to spend my life making art!  I listened and learned.  Back then no one had a clue as to the growth and importance of Santa Fe art market.  This was where it happened - two little galleries trying to make a living selling art - it all began with Jean and Margaret and I saw it all!  How did I get so lucky? 

ANDREW WYETH - SPIRIT OF PLACE

I dream a lot. I do more painting when I'm not painting. It's in the subconscious.

One's art goes as far and as deep as one's love goes.

It's all in how you arrange the thing... the careful balance of the design is the motion.

-Andrew Wyeth-

Chicago 1967 - The Chicago Art Institute mounted a major exhibit of Andrew Wyeth's paintings.  We were in the process of preparing our move to Santa Fe.  I was desperate to see that show!  It was somehow arranged that the babies would be well cared for that day.  I put on my favorite white summer dress and took the Illinois Central train to the Loop.  Stopped in Marshall Fields an treated myself to a Vidal Sassoon haircut which was then all the rage!  Damned cute!

Rushed over to the Art Institute - the line was quite long - eventually it would stretch all around the museum and almost reached Lake Michigan!  Bought my ticket and was informed that it would be a moving line because of the crowd.  The guards saw to it that we did not dawdle!  

Unaware that this was my last visit to the home of my Art Gods, I moved through the line, absorbing the essence of the paintings.  There was no time to study the brushstrokes, only enough to "feel" the essence of the work.  Perhaps that was the best way to view this man's work - it is so strong and deeply emotional.  I felt the familiarity with which he painted his neighbors and the landscape....sombre colors - browns, black, ochres.  His limited palette amplified his familiarity with his subject matter. Took the train back to Homewood in a dreamlike state, still feeling the wholeness of my experience! 

Back to reality! Moving boxes, babies needing to be changed and fed.  Little did I realize how my experience on that day would affect choices I would later make in my own paintings! This was another one of those fateful "meetings" - I met Andrew Wyeth through his work and he spoke to my heart!      

WAY BACK THEN IN CHICAGO......

Chicago - Life was very different for women fifty years ago.  My mother never learned how to drive, she had no money of her own and when my father died, she had no idea how to write a check.  My life at twenty was not much different - I only knew what I observed and the norm was that many women had very few choices, even independent thought was whispered and not spoken aloud.  I didn't like the way my father treated my mother - in our house, speaking one's mind was heresy; standing up for oneself was treason!

 My entire view of life was skewed by my family history.  I was completely unformed.   I  had worked in Chicago for Holiday Magazine in the Advertising Department.  At the same time Hugh Hefner was starting Playboy and fundamentally changed the culture with his magazine and Chicago Playboy Club. In spite of the skinny waists, big boobs and bunny tails becoming the new sexualized ideal of womanhood, all I wanted was to be an artist.    I went to night school at the Chicago Art Institute.   Most of my lunch hours and weekends were spent at the museum studying paintings until I almost knew the brushstrokes by heart!  Several stand out - a painting of a rainy Paris street by Caillebotte, another called "A Donor and Five Saints" by Mantegna....Monets, Manets, Goya, Degas, Eakins; very few women of note - Artemesia Gentileschi, Mary Cassatt, Cecelia Beaux.

Sometime in 1959 I applied for entrance to the School of the Chicago Art Institute and made a great effort to prepare my portfolio.  Out of hundreds of applicants samples of my work were accepted and I was offered a place as a first year student.  Scholarships were only available to second year students.  I had been living with my parents, often helping them out with my salary from my job at Curtis.  When the acceptance letter arrived, I showed it to my father and asked if I could forego my monthly rent payment to him for one year.  I promised to work for a scholarship the following year.  He stood over me and said "No daughter of mine will be an artist!"  I pleaded, cajoled, but he stood firm. My brother had gone off to college - girls were expected to stay home and care for their parents - it was cultural. 

Six months later I went on a blind date with a tall, handsome Notre Dame student - his first impression was that I looked like Kim Novak!  Quite a shallow response to our meeting I thought! He was interesting and funny and a major in early English Literature.  I listened intently to his stories of academia, football games  - he read me poetry and told me the story of Beowulf - I was enchanted.  That was 58 years ago.  The war in Viet Nam was raging and many beautiful young men would never come home from those jungles.  The draft board was just waiting for him to graduate from college.  My hopes of finding my way in the art world had been dashed - I was nineteen in the August of 1960 when we married - twenty the following month.

We were married in the little chapel on the campus of Notre Dame - the founder of the college was buried under the floor of the little church. I am certain he still lies buried there along with some of my hopes and dreams!