WORD PAINTINGS #40 - KINDRED SPIRITS!

The time arrived to frame up my paintings and get them ready to exhibit.  The Albuquerque Arts and Crafts show had been held at the State Fair Grounds every summer for about five years. As of this writing, it is now 54 years old.  Ernie had been showing his welded sculptures there for a few years and usually sold out.  This fair was a substantial source of his income.  He had urged me to enter, I was accepted and now I needed to show up.

When the time came I had about 25 framed paintings.  My prices were quite low and my first time out, I sold $1000 worth of work.  I was elated.  As a result of this happy experience, I would continue doing art fairs - sometimes three or four a year...Albuquerque, Laguna Gloria in Austin - some holiday fairs in Santa Fe.  This was a great learning experience for me.  In each city I made new art friends who stayed with me for many years.  They started out as buyers and stayed over to become true friends.  What I loved about selling directly to the public was seeing their response to my work.  Most of it was very positive and encouraging.  I loved it!

An added bonus to selling my paintings was visiting the booths of other artists and talking to them about their work.   I met the now famous Santa Clara Pueblo painter Pablita Velarde.  The fair was also an important part of her income.  We talked about the resistance we faced because we made art.  The elders of her pueblo did not look upon her paintings kindly.  My father and my husband were dead set against me pursuing my art.  I had found a kindred spirit!
 

Basketmaking, c. 1940, by Pablita Velarde

In a 1979 interview she said, "Painting was not considered women's work in my time. A woman was supposed to be just a woman, like a housewife and a mother and chief cook. Those were things I wasn't interested in."

That year I also met another Santa Clara artist, the exquisite Grace Medicine Flower, a now world famous potter! (Grace Medicine Flower was born in 1938 at Santa Clara Pueblo, New Mexico.^[1] She is a member of the famous Tafoya pottery family and the niece of Margaret Tafoya. Her pots from 1968 to 1972 were done in collaboration with her father, Camilio Tafoya, and are signed by both of them.) Grace and I talked for a long time and she introduced me to her handsome brother, Joseph Lonewolf.

This was my first experience of being introduced to the Native American culture.  As we laughed and shared our stories, we were women together trying to support our families with our work.  In later years I would cross paths with Pablita - once when she was helping her daughter, Helen Hardin, hang her solo gallery exhibit in Santa Fe. They are both gone now and the world is a much sadder and less colorful place without them.

 

WORD PAINTINGS #39 - GHOST TOWNS AND WIDE OPEN SPACES

The light in northern New Mexico is absolutely brilliant.   It was a challenge to adjust my vision.  A sunny day in Chicago is like looking through a gauzy window curtain.   There is no comparison to daylight in the high desert.  It took some time for me to realize the difference.  I thought light was light until day trips with my painting buddy Edda Lynne.  This indeed was a whole new beginning.  It was a good thing that I hadn't established my own way of painting in Chicago.  Everything was falling into place and I could move forward, learning something new almost every day.  The move to Santa Fe, the workshop and now some rather intense field work made me realize I wasn't in Chicago anymore!

The ghost towns fascinated me.  Ernie, my husband and I would explore the villages along the Turquoise Trail - especially Madrid, Cerrillos and Golden.  Some Sundays we would head toward Taos to photograph and explore the abandoned adobe houses along the Rio Grande River.  On a really good day we might meet a "local" who would share stories of life in these places.  Old timers were the greatest and the best story tellers.  I learned to listen and appreciate the history - it was all new and I was enthralled.  It felt as though I was falling in love for the first time.

Edda Lynne wanted to paint the old mining shacks in Madrid.  Most of the town had been abandoned after the mine closed. With great anticipation I packed up my paints and lunch for this new adventure.  Plein air painting on location was a first for me.  Ernie decided that we "girls" needed protection.  He put his fully loaded .357 Magnum into my straw tote bag.  I protested.  He said it was "just in case".

We headed out Highway 14.  Edda parked the car on a secondary road in full view of some crumbling old shacks up on a hill.  Once our easels and paints were set up we both went to work.  It was a beautiful day - the sky was a bright New Mexico blue and the only sound was the flutter of an occasional bird as it flew past.  In spite of being surrounded by goatheads (sharp little hazards), I took off my shoes.  I was oblivious to everything but the canvas right in front of me.

Suddenly I heard someone approaching.  Out of the corner of my eye I saw a tall man coming toward us.  I looked over his shoulder toward the road and he had blocked our car. I began to feel danger.  He was staggering and in no way appeared friendly.  Now this sounds crazy, but I shouted to him "Don't come any further, I have a gun!"  As he came nearer I realized that he was either drunk or on drugs.  I reached into my tote and grabbed the gun.  Standing up I first held the weapon down at my side.  This was not a friendly approach and I was frightened.  I warned him off again; he pretended not to hear.  When he was quite near I lifted the gun and pointed it right at him.  "If you come any closer, I will shoot!"  He turned, walked to his car and drove off.  We put on our shoes and packed up our paints. We worried that he could be blocking our car at the end of the road.  All was clear and we headed for home.  My first field day of painting in the wild, wild West!

Annie Oakley I am not.  Did Ernie have a premonition when he put the gun in my bag?  Were we in real danger?  Did I over react?   I will never know.  Fifty years ago these abandoned places were much different than they are now.  Actually I have done field painting and photography in some very isolated places since that experience and never again felt the need to carry a weapon. 

WORD PAINTINGS #38 - BECOMING AN ARTIST!

 (Note: "Toby, A Time of Flowers" - One of my earliest paintings after moving to New Mexico.)

SANTA FE WINTER 1969 -  After the move from Alegre Street and the Jan Herring Workshop, life became quiet and very enjoyable. The babies were really babies no more.  When they were awake there was constant movement and mischief like the day they decided to make a crayon mural on the stuccoed wall in the hallway. It took a week of scrubbing to clean it up.  One girl dreamed up all the schemes and directed her sister to do the dirty work. Now I think I should have left it there to be celebrated and enjoyed.  We played in the backyard and made snowmen.  The four of us had some good fun. My husband seemed to enjoy teaching at the college. Ernie had purchased a ridgetop lot on the north end of town and stopped over often for dinner.  With great excitement he showed us the blueprints for the house he planned to build. There was no drama or chaos.  Money was tight but I felt new energy and believed that some brighter days were ahead for all of us.

My routine was simple - cooking, cleaning and a lot of painting.  My little "studio" in the corner of family room worked well.  There were blankets on the floor - big pads of paper and crayons for the troops. A load of laundry in the washer, and a big pot of vegetable soup on the stove - it was my version of a wonderful life! We were all cozied in that winter and I was inspired!  I had made about twenty new paintings.  Some of them were quite good.  Ernie had encouraged me to send in my application to the Albuquerque Arts and Crafts Fair to get a booth and exhibit that summer.  It seemed such a distant dream that I put it out of my mind and just painted.  

We went to openings at Margaret's gallery - Fritz Scholder, Kevin Redstar, Gaspard, Fechin.  This was my new world.  I was no longer an observer, I was "in it"!  I met new people who talked art, lived art - all they thought about every day was making art!!!   The environment was alive with creativity.  No more musty museums.  This was where it all happened.  Suddenly I knew who I wanted to become....an imaginary door opened and I entered a new way of seeing and being.  I was hooked.

Jan Herring was a generous teacher.  In those five short days of the workshop she taught us the basics...color composition, negative space, lights and darks - a thousand elements of painting.  I learned that painting was a discipline - a life long learning process.  For me it was magic.  I had no idea where to start - I knew what I wanted, but didn't know how to get there.  I bought books on color and composition and studied after the children went to bed.  Progress, not perfection - never perfection.  One step at a time - one painting at a time. How did I get so lucky?

The heartache and turmoil of the past two years began to fade.  All I had to have was a willing spirit.  A path forward had begun to appear and I was becoming aware of opportunities.  A lot of questions.    To my mind,  Jan's life was perfect. She took good care of her husband and children.  While her husband was working on the ranch and her children were in school she painted.  All her efforts had paid off.  She taught her workshops and sold her paintings.  She did what she loved and at the same time contributed in large measure to the financial well being of the family.  I wanted to be her!  Where do I begin?

My husband was becoming concerned.  He didn't recognize the person he had married.  I was all NEW!!  Realizing that I was serious about my painting, he told me it was okay for me to do it as a hobby; as long as it didn't interfere with my duties to the family. 

An envelope arrived in the mail addressed to me. I had been accepted as an exhibitor in that summer's Arts and Crafts Fair!  Information regarding my booth number and instructions would follow shortly.
This was unbelievable. I had my new beginning and never once looked back!

WORD PAINTINGS #37 - 10/6/2018 - Taos, New Mexico

10/6/2018 Taos, New Mexico - Have been up most of the night. My Thursday post was amended in an attempt to be more honest.  And then yesterday happened.  Judge Kavanaugh is to be confirmed to the Supreme Court today, when in reality he needs a good 12 Step Treatment Program.  I can't forget the picture of his wife's face during his wild testimony and I knew the truth of her marriage.  Sadness and disbelief at her husband's out of control rant.  I am her - she is me.  She has the look of every woman who keeps the family secrets.

Starting this blog in early August I tried to keep it light - my wayshowers, my painting workshop, my early history with New Mexico.  I left hints, but was determined not to go too deep. And then I listened to Professor Ford's testimony and knew I wasn't being completely honest.  I wrote my Thursday post and my best friend called to tell me that she thought it seemed hurried through the hard parts and had not adequately described what really happened.  I rewrote it and honestly felt as though I had revealed too much.  Not even my children know the truth about my marriage to their father.  Rigorous honesty is very uncomfortable.  I fantasized about deleting the blog.  Instead I have decided to continue this conversation one day at a time.

Watching Prof. Ford I realized what courage it took for her to raise her hand and swear to tell the truth.  Then I heard Amy Klobuchar reveal that she had lived in a house with an alcoholic father who is now 90 years old and in recovery.  Last night I thought of Betty Ford telling of her recovery from alcoholism and breast cancer.  She saved thousands of women's lives by coming forward with her truthtelling - I am one of those women.  Think of the women who came forward and revealed being horribly abused by Bill Cosby.  Every day the truth comes out somewhere and the list of perpetrators grows just because another woman comes forward and tells her story.  She may never know that by sharing her experience, strength and hope another woman gains enough courage to leave an abusive marriage or confront her abuser.

We are as sick as our secrets.  In my family no one would admit that my father was an alcoholic and my mother suffered from a severe mental illness.  Instead we made up stories.  We made up excuses in order to look and hopefully feel sane.  We covered up and tried to make ugly reality go away.  We stumbled around in hurt and confusion.  At least we could lie to ourselves that everything would get better if we just wore the right clothes, earned enough money, cooked the right meals, put on lots of makeup and whistled a happy tune.  We covered up our shame for not having a perfect life.  

There is hope for us yet.  I am a firm believer that there are no accidents.  I thought of all the women who have come out these last two weeks and told their experiences of being abused.  Am sure they feel belittled and shamed by sharing their stories only to have Judge Kavanaugh confirmed anyway.  They have spoken their truth and hopefully are now on a path to healing.  It might take some time, but once our stories are told, we will never be the same.

What I know for sure is that even in my darkest times another person shared their experiences with me and I lived to paint another day!

 

WORD PAINTINGS #36 - GOODFELLAS.....

All my fears became reality on one sunny August morning.  I stood in the doorway of the bathroom where my husband was shaving and told him what I had just dreamed - our babysitter confronted me and said "I'm pregnant and your husband is the father of my child!" - I asked her how she could do this and she laughed and said "It was fun!"  He turned pale and his hand holding the razor was visibly trembling.  UhOh!  Is this real?  Of course it is, Dumbo!  You have known for months ever since his absence during the blizzard and you chose to ignore what was right in front of you!  You have known even before the girls were born!  The wife always knows! I  hoped  it would go away.....maybe he would come to his senses....possibly he would look at our babies and choose his family over this sexy college student. Hah!

The phone rang that evening just as we were sitting down to supper.  The babysitter's mother  called to tell me that her daughter was pregnant and my husband was the baby-daddy.  Of course it was no surprise.  I couldn't talk - in some strange way I felt partly responsible.    This was my Debbie Reynolds moment - when she was pictured with diaper pins on her blouse holding a baby and the news had just broken that her husband had left her to be with Elizabeth Taylor - indeed, a very bad movie!  We were sisters in Spirit!

The next morning he went to his teaching job.  I called my friend Bonnie and told her what was happening.  Apparently she contacted Frank immediately and told him my story.  That afternoon my husband returned home with all his books and all his classroom paraphernalia.  The girls parents had contacted the college and he had been fired!  I was a  hysterical mess.  I called my doctor to tell him what was happening and he made a house call. We talked for a long time and he urged me to leave my marriage.   My son was eighteen months old and the twins six months.  I had nowhere to go.  I stayed.

The girl's father was well connected to a rather dicey group of wise guys.  The Don owed him a favor- it was time to collect.  There was a contract out on my husband - if anyone saw him in South Chicago or Indiana again, he was as gone for good!   Many years later I learned that the Don owed our lawyer friend Frank a larger favor and the contract was called off on one condition.  He was given two weeks to pack up and leave, never to return.  I was put on a plane to Santa Fe.  Ernie met me in Albuquerque and  the next day I rented the house on Alegre Street.  It was time to pack up our Chicago life.  I was an adult now...keep your chin up, Girl!  There was no use in asking questions - how, why, what, where???   I did ask him why he could do this; he said it was because she was evil!  He never admitted any responsibility! Things were so tense, I wanted to avoid any confrontation.  No sense in making things worse.....I had learned to be afraid of his anger.

A friend called and asked me to describe my husband more fully.  It has been  so many years...  I balked, but then there was a glitch in yesterday's post and most of it was erased.  So, here is a word painting of the man I married.  He was 6'5" tall - darkly handsome and obviously well educated.  He loved the appearance of wealth and stature - on a teacher's salary.  He was happiest when in animated conversations with his men friends about fishing and hunting - guy things. Expensive tweed sport coats with leather patches.  He enjoyed the admiration of his college students.  He liked owning new cars, the best fishing gear and the best guns.  The true southwestern description of him would be "all hat and no cattle".  In our marriage he was cold and impersonal.  Now I realize his mother urged his marriage to avoid the draft.  He felt superior because he had a diploma from Notre Dame and took every opportunity to remind me that I had not gone to college.  Gaslighting was his favorite sport with me.  He lied often. Emotionally he was shut down - his feelings were on a shelf somewhere in a far away place.  He was more attached to position than to people.   Once the children arrived, it was more "show and tell" than hands on daddyness.  He was abusive verbally and sometimes physically.  He was very much like my father.    

For many months before the truth hit the fan I had a ticket to see the Andrew Wyeth retrospective at the Chicago Art Institute.  A few days before we were to leave I took the Illinois Central train into the Loop.  Remember wearing my favorite white summer dress.  I stopped at Marshall Fields' hair salon first and got a Vidal Sassoon haircut and had a nice lunch afterward.  Ran over to the museum and got in place early - eventually the line stretched around the building almost to Lake Michigan.  This was exciting - a day without drama!  My first day on my own since I gave birth to the twins - a time to let go of my resentment and anger toward my husband.  Great relief!  The crowd was so large, we were urged to move along and only had brief seconds with each painting but I could feel myself waking up. I started to come alive again!  (Andrew Wyeth blogpost - Spirit of Place) 

My family gathered to say goodbye. They were bewildered .  Every thing happened so fast they did not have time to adjust to the changes.  Two weeks was not enough time for them to get used to the idea of not seeing their grandchildren.  In spite of years of dysfunction, I would miss them.  In a way I had been their caretaker after my brother left for college.  I tried to make their lives happier even kinder with no success.  My grandmother was upset that I was going to a place where I might not know the language!  Bonnie and Frank stopped over.  Lots of farewell hugs and much gratitude for their intervention.

Pillows and blankets in the back seat of the car - lots of diapers and baby bottles - three happy little faces.  We set off into the sunrise.....the Great Unknown!

 

WORD PAINTINGS #35 - BONNIE AND FRANK

Eventually all that snow from the Great Chicago Blizzard melted and winter gave way to a beautiful spring.  Some of my high school friends got together and gifted me with a twin stroller for the girls.  The four of us had a few outdoor adventures to see the birdies.  By the time I got the three of them ready for a walk, we all needed a nap!  Life settled into quite a nice routine on most days and while they were taking their afternoon naps, I got out my paints.  Painted an old fairly ornate frame black and did a still life painting in three colors to fit the frame - black, white and yellow!  It was surprisingly good!

My friend Bonnie (not her real name) visited often.  We met on the morning train ride when we both worked in the Loop.  She was friendly and very flamboyant and stood out in a crowd - wore big hats, high heels and fur coats.  She had a married lover named Frank who was a high priced attorney in one of Chicago's largest law firms. Bonnie brought Frank to visit one day and he bought the still life painting for $75.00!  My first sale!  Little did I know that Frank would become a significant player in the lives of my little family.

Bonnie was the only person to whom I confided the details of my life.  She was married, divorced and living alone and she loved it.  She had raised a son by herself, collected antiques and art with a little help from Frank.   I was in awe of her ability to roll with the punches.  She described herself  as "one tough Polish broad".  I  was especially happy when she visited her parents in Arizona and returned with a supply of frozen pierogi (Polish style dumplings) her mother had made for me!  I trusted her as a friend.

Absolutely no one knew the secrets of my married life.  One day I dropped the Happy Homemaker facade and told Bonnie the truth.  She never really gave advice, but listened....for the first time I heard myself describe my suspicions about my husband's behavior and his over the top spending habits. New fishing rods and reels, the start of his gun collection, a sporting club he used as an excuse to be away from home.  Tweed sport coats with leather patches at the elbows, a large selection of pipes, some kind of expensive apple flavored tobacco rounded out his emerging persona as the wise all-knowing English professor.  He took longer and longer showers before going on his weekend fishing trips and wore some heavy cologne before packing his car with all his gear.  I knew he wasn't spending his time fishing!  Bonnie had no other advice but to grin and bear it and I recalled the priestly admonitions that I was a good Catholic girl - this, too shall pass!

I dreamed of a way out of this marriage.  I wanted him gone but again was constrained by the reality of having three small children and no way to support us.  I had become someone I no longer liked - resentful and angry.   Ernie had visited from New Mexico over his Christmas vacation and described his new life in what sounded like a beautiful foreign country.....a dream - bright blue skies, tall mountains, pueblos and wide open spaces. He described doing his sculptures and then taking them to galleries for sale.   When things got tough I imagined a new life there - anywhere but where I felt constrained and trapped in a situation I was unable to change.  I wanted a better, happier life for my babies and I still held onto my dreams of being an artist. 

In a few short months my prayers  for release would be answered.  We would pack up the car, get a moving van and be on our way to New Mexico!  The way it happened was ugly and messy!  Bonnie and Frank would literally save my husband's life!

WORD PAINTINGS #34 - GREAT CHICAGO BLIZZARD 1967

January 26 1967 - It was an ordinary afternoon John had his supper and I gave the twins their bottles.Expected my husband home around six.  Only a few bottles of formula left; he planned to pick up a case of Similac on the way home.  The wind started howling around five and then it started snowing. 

This was the worst snowstorm in Chicago's history. By the time it was over 23 inches had fallen -  there was a 46" snow drift in our front yard - there was no longer clear path to the house.  The twins were six weeks old - only two bottles of formula left.  The phones were out.  My husband never made it home that night.  Listening to the radio reports it was obvious that we were living through a huge disaster.  Store shelves emptied within a very short time.  Semi trucks were stranded on the highways and the drivers sold milk and bread fot ten dollars each! Phone service was out and here was no way to reach my husband.  I had no idea where he might be stranded.  Many people died that night.

The wind continued at 50 miles an hour.  Worried the windows might shatter, I moved the baby cribs into the living room and made a bed for John on the sofa.  I settled into a chair near them and began taking stock of my life.  I shivered with fear and fatigue.  Looking at my little ones, I came to a new reality - it was just the four of us....we were on our own.  This was one of those "come to Jesus" moments.  If the storm continued, what would happen?  We were trapped in a situation not of our own making.

The next morning I heard someone shoveling snow outside of the back door.  I had never met my neighbors - an older mother and her bachelor son.  Finally I opened the door and the man introduced himself.  He said he was taking his sled to the pharmacy about a mile away - did I need anything? Told him I was out of formula for the babies, but I didn't have any money in the house.  He told me not to worry, he'd bring some back for me, which he did.  I almost collapsed with relief. Later when I tried to pay him, he wouldn't take the money.The strangest twist of events is that he and his mother kept to themselves and I never saw him again.  I am convinced there are angels among us every day!

Last week my brother and I talked about the day after the blizzard.  Most of northern Illinois and parts of Indiana were completely paralyzed by the storm.  Snow plows were out, but it could be days before things got moving again.  My Uncle Roy actually walked over from his house with a shovel and dug out a walkway in front of the house.  Later my Aunt Jeanette came over with some food. My brother brought some bread.  A measure of safety and calm was being restored.  However that night has stayed with me all these years.  Am still in the habit of buying $200 worth of groceries the minute I see two snowflakes!  They interviewed many people who went through that event 50 years later and I found "my people" who shared their trepidation still when it begins to snow!