WORD PAINTINGS # 65 - LEAVING SANTISTEVAN LANE

Taos, New Mezico - Sunday morning, 14 July 2019.  Have tried not to think too much about my departure from this place - this move was not planned - it was harsh and sudden.    Two months after my surgery, I was basically evicted.  AAAArgh!  Santistevan Lane has been my home for 25 years - 23 years at 313 and two at this little place just down the street. It is said, and I am a firm believer, that you create your own reality!  In my heart I knew this was not was not my forever place - it has been a half-way house where I could heal.  It has gently protected and contained me for the past two years and I will always be grateful for its safety and comfort.  However the clouds and the mountains have been hiding - I know they are there, but my view has literally been blocked.  So again, what appears to be another speed bump on the road of life, turns out to be a blessing in disguise!  

I need to see and feel open space in order to do my work. Still missing my kitchen window at 313 - looking across the backyard to the mountains leading into the Pecos Wilderness.  Many paintings were made from that view - all seasons and all times, it was ever changing.... morning light, sunset glow.  I still carry it with me....

Surrounded by moving boxes this morning....a wonderful cup of coffee.  Had a good night's sleep.  Not really tired.  Wakened yesterday to a feeling of deep gratitude for just being alive. On that emergency plane ride to the hospital in Colorado, I totally surrendered to whatever my Art Gods were planning - the Big Easel in the Sky, or more time to make more paintings.  It is obvious now that I have more time - what a GIFT!!!

Another empty-handed leap into the void!  Moving into a real studio space -large, light, airy, open!  360 degree views of the sky - a few mountains in the distance, the rim road, below a valley of lush green fields - just waiting to be painted!   Excited to start using my new wide angle zoom lens.  The fall colors are fast approaching.  Gabe Abrums at Chimayo Trading is expanding his wall space by five rooms and wants some larger work!   Visions of clouds on canvas - just big floaty clouds, dark blowy storms, rosy sunsets!   Yes, it is so good to be alive!

Some of my best work has been done here on Santistevan Lane - touch the walls, say "thank you" for sheltering me - I am truly grateful.  In a few days life will move on for me one more time.  Planning to leave behind the "old me".  Taking my paints and brushes to a whole New Beginning.... a delicious mystery!!  Never a dull moment.... 

WORD PAINTINGS #64 - LIFE IS FULL OF SURPRISES!

Seven days in the hospital and finally I was told I could go home.  Said goodbye to all the wonderful nurses and aides on the Trauma Ward.  Wheelchair to the parking lot and reintroduced to brilliant sunshine - clouds, fresh air.  A friend drove the shortest route back to Taos.  To my great surprise, I was alive!!!! The nurses told me I was strong - recovery would take  a full six months - but I was otherwise quite healthy.

The landscape revived me.  Several deep, deep breaths, a few quiet tears and my heart was back in my body!  As we neared the Colorado/New Mexico border, the landscape opened to miles and miles of fields and tall mountains.  Just past Walsenburg to the left of the highway loomed Spanish Peaks!!!    Patches of snow still clung to the side of the mountains....dark clouds hovered over the top of the them like a  crown!  "Spanish Peaks. The Spanish Peaks are a pair of prominent mountains located in southwestern Huerfano County, Colorado. The Ute Indians named them Huajatolla (pronounced Wa-ha-toy-a), meaning "two breasts" or "breasts of the Earth".  I felt Mother Earth - the feminine - so strongly as we drove past.  When I researched the history, I was not surprised!

So many changes! Mountain Home Health nurses visited three times a week. Made new women friends.  Felicia, Jenny, Keely; as in the hospital, I was in the arms of angels!  Felicia kept telling me that I was strong and that God had saved me for a purpose.  God and I had not been on friendly terms since the death of my son - I had lost my faith and the magic of believing and trusting the ground beneath my feet.       

These past six years have been tumultuous. Arriving back home to this little house on Victor Court there was a feeling of peace that I hadn't felt for a very long time.  The early evening sun glowed on my two easels, the paintings on the walls welcomed me as old friends.  Many posts ago I wrote "Just tell God your plans and He laughs!"  The 12th of May was quite an amazing day - my whole life changed again in a matter of hours.  Felicia and Megs, her nurse in training, visited for the last time to have me sign discharge papers - they brought lunch.  We had some great laughs and  even better hugs.

Right after the nurses left the phone rang and I was informed this little nest of mine was being sold - my fourth move in six years.  During that phone call there was a beep - another call.  Gabe Abrums from Chimayo Trading in Ranchos de Taos Plaza and asked if I could do some oils of Ranchos de Taos - my answer was "yes"!    In the meantime my new 30"x40" RAIN OF GOLD (see above) was completed last week and sits on my big easel as it dries - it is a winner!  Gabe will pick it up on Monday  as soon as it is varnished and signed.

Next day I went on Craig's list, there were two houses for rent .  One house sits above the Ranchos Valley  (there are no accidents) - all I have to do is walk to the end of the driveway - summer, spring or fall and there are fields just waiting to be painted! 

My friends Dan and Doug were here today.  Dan fixed the computer - iCloud blackmailed me into buying 2 more Terrabytes of computer storage space for $9.99 a month.  Doug packed 14 boxes from my studio workroom - frames and canvases.  I packed up the brushes and some packets of flower seeds - am told it is okay for me to have a garden in this new place - now I can watch things grow and watch sunset clouds float by.....stay tuned.  As long as there is breath in your body, keep moving! That Big Easel in the Sky will have to wait.

WORD PAINTINGS #63 -ADIOS A LA VIDA AND HELLO AGAIN!

"And the Moon said to me - My darling, you do not have to be whole in order to shine!"

Taos - 29 June 2019 - Yesterday I called my genius computer friend, Dan Kuehn, and asked him if we could revive my Word Paintings blog - I was ready to tell my stories again.

Deleted this blog in March of this year.  Was saddened by all my old memories - disheartened.  Didn't feel well.  Just thought it was the onset of my dotage....the inevitable decline.  Had no clue what was on that rocky road of Life - WOW!  With all my heart I try to live a peaceful little life  - I wasn't looking for anymore drama - my Art Gods seemed to have other ideas!  Little did I know then that I was headed into another tornado season - a Dorothy and Toto time where the winds just pick me up and toss me about until I once again return to earth and am given another New Beginning.

Where do I start?  Last Christmas.  I wanted to be alone.  My son, John, had died on Christmas Eve four years earlier.  Faked cheerfulness until I could no longer fool myself - I wasn't being honest.  Needed to really feel my feelings - the loss - take my life back from that deep grief.  The clouds began to part.  Read about the Swedish ritual of "death cleansing".  Began another purge of the odd bits and pieces I once thought were necessary to make me happy.  Made my Will, Power of Attorney - put it all into a binder.  Feeling ill - made it through those days with great difficulty.  Yes, this is how it happens - you get old, you get sick and then you die.

Planned to have my hair cut the afternoon of April 11th.  Wrote out the check - my friend came over with her scissors - gave her the check and told her not to come in because I had the flu.  In the course of the afternoon sickness overwhelmed me and I called my friend and helper, Doug Yeager, to take me to the ER.  We waited and waited.  Finally  I suggested he get some Gatorade and take me home.  He shook his head "NO"! His refusal to leave began a series of events that would save my life.  Was put in the care of Dr. Sara Bush. After taking my vitals and Xrays, she told me I needed to be airlifted to UCHealth in Colorado Springs.  Unable to find anyone locally, she put me in an ambulance to the Taos airport at two that morning. Her quick decisions and actions are the reason I'm still here!

Once the plane was in the air, it was time to surrender it all - serious thoughts of dying had been with me often since John died.  Here was my chance - I could let go at any time - I felt very peaceful.   I truly wasn't afraid.  Had just read a book called This is How I Save My Life, "as long as there is breath in your body, just keep moving".  Listening to the sound of the plane engine that night, with absolutely no control of this outcome, I let go!  I would take this experience one little step at a time.  There was a big painting of a tree on my easel back at home - I began thinking of that  canvas, painting it in my head...

Emergency Room, bright lights, doctors, nurses, gurney - wheeling me around from one place to another. Admission - great nurse, calmed me down -  floating into the Big Unknown.  Surgeon Dr. Fair explained that the surgery I needed was rare and complicated.  A large stone had migrated from my gallbladder and was causing a full blockage - life-saving operation at the hands of this young man who looked like he could be my infant son!  Another angel in green scrubs!  They removed my little gold hoop earrings, gave them to a stern security guard for safe-keeping.  The anesthesiologist put a big patch on my back for the Fentanyl and I was sent to sleep with my guardian angels for a while - just so they could work their life-saving magic!  Let the healing continue....!   

WORD PAINTINGS #62 - TAOS, Monday 3/11/19

A cold and rainy Monday morning.  Want to stay in the cozy warmth of my little bed.  Have a huge mental list of  things I need to accomplish today.  There is always a to do list, isn't there?  How would my life have purpose and meaning without it? Fixed a good strong cup of coffee, fluffed up my pillows and here I am, all settle in for a few hours - the rest of the day?  Who knows!  This is absolute decadence and I love it!

Yesterday I had a phone call from my brother.  We talked about our dad.  I couldn't remember when he died - 1979.  My mother was in her late 60s - she was left with nothing.  Still in denial that his death at 67 was brought on by alcoholism, she had never been taught to take care of herself.  He was the "man", he made the decisions and it was her job to "grin and bear it".   No one taught her how to drive and when he died she had no clue how to write a check or manage finances!  Her happiest time was when we lived in Milwaukee and she was "allowed" to have a job selling yard goods at Shuster's Department Store.  Am certain she earned very little, but it was the first time she felt in charge of her life - she felt some measure of power.  That was taken away from her when he decided to follow his job back to Chicago.  None of us had a say in the move.  She had no power over her life until after he died.

In my experience at that time women were handcuffed  by cultural norms. We lived in a Polish neighborhood.  Many traditions came over on the boat from the "old country".  Roles of women were set in stone.  Being a housewife and mother was okay.  Higher education was a step too far.  Once I graduated from high school and got a job to "help out", taking care of my parents for the rest of their lives became my job.  It was a given.  College was out of the question.  When I received my acceptance at the Chicago Art Institute and asked my father if I could attend, he said "No daughter of mine will be an artist!"  I felt trapped.  There was no escape.

All of a sudden women were burning their bras and fighting for equal rights.  Feminism became a dirty word.  A "movement" was forming and it had strength and power.  Men dug in. One side against the other.  If you stood up for your rights, you were "one of them"!  I was confused.  Deep inside I had this radical notion that my life was mine - I resented being shackled by what I felt was ruthless convention.  Sadly I was born without the road map - the book titled "How to Be an Artist for Dummies" hadn't yet been written.  The next fifty years of my life would be a Great Adventure - the very good, the very bad and sometimes the very ugly!  What a ride!!!

Sometimes what starts out as a little memory morphs into a much larger context.  My next blog post after this will be about the strong women I met after moving to New Mexico.  Women who came out West and lived loudly outside the lines. And then came National Woman's Day last week.  Along with it was talk of reviving the Equal Rights Amendment.  Yes, the woman's movement was all mixed in with my move to New Mexico.   My voyage of self-discovery took a surprising turn.   I found a way to escape through marriage.  The magic carpet ride became complicated and more than a little confusing.  My father's words followed me for years.  I never really became a feminist - there wasn't enough time.  Each day was a new challenge to sort out my priorities - children, law office, painting.  One day at a time, one step at a time - all I ever wanted to do was be a good mother and make art.  Was that so radical?  Thanking my Art Gods every day for the strong and beautiful women who showed me the way.....

Am almost embarrassed (not really) - it is almost noon!  Rise and shine!!!  Oh, NO!!! YES!!! NO!! YES!!! Four more canvases to complete for Gabe Abrums at Chimayo Trading.  Sending him fifteen new pieces at the end of this month; all my work from the first of this year.  Several large blank canvases are standing against the wall just waiting to be sketched.   They have already been painted in my head several times.  Set up a new palette this afternoon....each day a New Beginning!    

WORD PAINTINGS #61 - BABES IN THE WOODS

We were innocents - much like an isolated Amazonian tribe that had never seen an airplane.   We had no clue that Santa Fe would eventually rank second only to New York in art sales! All we wanted to do was make our art and then maybe we could show our work at jean Seth's Gallery on Canyon Road or at Jamison gallery at La Fonda.  Many of the potters and weavers sold directly from their studios.  There were really fine painters to the north of us in Taos following in the footsteps of Blumenschein, Higgins, Couse, and Sharp.  Rod Goebel, Walt Gonske, Ron Barsano, Ray Vinella would set a new standard for New Mexico artists. Toward the south in Albuquerque were the Moderns like Raymond Johnson who worked to build the fine art collection at the museum there.

At this time the Native Americans had very few venues to show their work except for Indian Market and at their pueblos.  There were a few who had regular spots to show their jewelry in front of the Palace of the Governors.  They, too, had no idea that the market for Native American art was about to Explode!

Rex Arrowsmith had a small bronze foundry on the corner of Paseo de Peralta (now the home of Nedra Matteucci Gallery). About this time he entered into partnership with a very ambitious ex-pat Texan named Forrest Fenn. A young fellow named Tommy Hicks started a bronze foundry in the small village of Tesuque just north of Santa Fe.  A group of "hippies" started the Glory Hole Glass Works on Canyon Road.    The hub of activity on Canyon Road was Three Cities of Spain (now Geronimo's) - across the street there would be a new restaurant named Ernie's. Jean Seth benefited greatly from all the traffic being engendered by these new businesses.  My friend, Edda Lynne Allen, opened her gallery and began showing a young Native American painter named Dan Namingha (for many years now the owner and main artist for the very successful Niman Gallery).

It would take a while, but the cowboy artists were just beginning to be aware of the new market opening up in Santa Fe.  They were well fed by art collectors in the oil business - Dallas and Houston.  Little ol' Santa Fe????  Let the games begin!!!

Let me paint another Word Picture.....Compared to 2019, artists had very few ways of building a client base, unless they did bank shows, were socially adept (attended all openings, parties) or hauled precious work to outdoor exhibits. Ernie and I attended at least two or three art fairs a year.  I kept names of lookers and buyers on 4"x5" index cards and would send postcard invitations to our exhibits.  Somehow it worked - sales were usually good.  This second "job" of mine was paying the bills!

Imagine trying to do an art business today without computers or cell phones - or a support system of available framers, photographers, and sellers of art supplies. A man named Bernie Bowman and his partner had s small frame shop in Burro Alley next to the Palace Restaurant.  He sold to a fairly high priced clientele and his prices were out of my reach. I bought stock frames in Albuquerque.  In the middle of the store was a small table with some paint tubes and a few brushes.  If we needed to stock up, we had to travel to Langell's near the university in Albuquerque.  No  digital cameras back in the day! A fellow named Milo was a very laid back "professional photographer" who could be called upon to do black and white publicity photos.   Trying to put all the pieces together for an exhibit was indeed a challenge!

Truth is, except for my workshop experience with Jan Herring, I had no idea how a REAL professional artists managed - I still had a lot to learn!!!!! My art life was made easier because Ernie had gallery experience in Santa Fe and El Paso - both good markets for his sculptures - he paved the way....

WORD PAINTINGS # 60 - MAKING ART

 

75 Years Ago - Chicago, Ill.

Taos 2/2019 - It is a long, long journey from wanting to be an artist to actually earning a living in that chosen field. The general impression is a dreamy person in clothes covered with paint picking up a brush every now and then and somehow a beautiful image will magically appear on the canvas.  Being an artist isn't a choice, it is a vocation - almost like taking religious orders - one has a calling to make art from childhood.  At least that is the way it was for me.   Guardian angels, school teachers, the dear old man who gifted me with his battered wooden box of oil paints and brushes at the age of eight, Jan Herring's encouragement, all led me to my life's work.  The strangest and most amazing outcome of being a single mother of three small children was my determination to provide their needs by supplementing my income with the sales from my work.  Learn fast, work fast - every day in every way try to get better - improve.  I had three little reasons to work hard. Never stop painting - just DO IT!

My large trunk is full of loose papers, books and magazines relating to my "brilliant career".  It definitely was an active life.  Sorting the pages in separate boxes - 1970, 1980 and 1990 - almost makes my heart stop.  The word to best describe these years would be "striving".  Not totally comfortable revealing a good portion of my life in those years.  What started out as my way of survival - provide for the children, pay my bills - morphed into a beautiful obsession.   I was lured by the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow - recognition. What I know now from sorting all these memories is that the minute I got close to the "prize", I turned my back on the buzz and retreated to a quiet corner of my studio to just make art.   Painting just for the sake of painting - if you paint it "they" will come.  The Law of Attraction....

So much to learn.  It would be years before I felt some measure of comfort in all of the newness.  Only after I made that first move to Truchas ten years later did I find my comfort - a true sense of place, a passionate attachment to the land.  In the meantime I got caught up in the striving - so far from what I thought my ideal art life should be.  It was not simple.  So many lessons.

What does it take to make art?  Learning this takes a lifetime - I am still open to new thoughts and experiments as I near my eightieth birthday...it never ends!  One must always stay open to change, inspiration, new ideas.

In the meantime I needed to recognize the steep learning curve from wanting to be a painter to making real art.  Painting is a craft!  Underneath all my finished paintings were lessons learned.  This process is pragmatic and basic.  Deciding what to paint - what I call "Heart Work" takes another lifetime - it is a growth process, always shifting and evolving.  I needed to train my eyes to SEE!  My North Star was always the intimacy of Andrew Wyeth's work and his attachment to his home - they are Love paintings.  I wanted to be able to do that  - to paint what made my heart leap - to paint my love for this place.  I haven't always succeeded, but once in a while I really hit the mark!  Each time that happened I was eager to face that new blank canvas....

1969/1972 - The Santa Fe Art Community - like herding cats. Serious artists prefer to work alone.   With my children and my job at the law office, all my spare time was spent painting or trying to sell paintings.  There were "leaders" who tried to get a group together - strength in numbers - they deserve great admiration for their efforts.  I was a total beginner in New Mexico, being a single mother, learning to make art.  Wherever there was an opening to show my work, I took it.  Since there were only two art galleries in town, group shows, bank shows, art auctions were really the only venues to show work for us "lesser" folk.  The competition and the backbiting was fierce.  My saving grace was the Albuquerque Arts & Crafts exhibit.  My little Hallway Gallery filled in the gap when there were no other sales. It became apparent to me that making art was one thing, Marketing Art was entirely another.  I had to learn to do both at the same time!  Determined....

WORD PAINTINGS #59 - 1969/72 REAL LESSONS IN ART & LIFE

The course of the rest of my life was set in these three important years.  My children and I lived by ourselves on Kiva Road in Santa Fe.  Ernie was a frequent visitor and somehow he began to complete the picture of family life for us.  The children had visits to the "ranch" out on Highway 14 to visit their dad.  Always had a good hot meal and home baked cookies when they came home.

At first all was confusion.  Gradually a routine began to develop.  Job at the law office, managing debt collectors and painting every night and on the weekends when the kids were away.  Developed the little Hallway Gallery right outside the law office and kept the walls updated with new paintings.  Those random "Hail Mary" sales to clients helped to pay the bills.  Children, job, painting; little by little the emphasis on painting became my true mode of survival.  Bills were being paid, maybe not on time, but I was starting to feel that I was being made whole in some strange way.

Ernie and I continued to do the art fairs in Albuquerque and Austin.  These events were a very important part of my education.  There were crowds of people, many of whom stopped by our booths. Some were attracted to Ernie's beautifully welded sculptures.  He was the star.  Gradually things evened out and we could both be proud and happy at the end of each show.  Lessons learned - invaluable interaction with the public!!!!  For every show I tried to up my game - better paintings, better sales.   The quality of my work began to improve.  That old adage that "practice makes perfect" was working.  More than fifty years later I still haven't reached perfection, but it is fun to keep trying.

The nights in the studio after the children went to bed was my precious time.  Peace, quiet - some good music - total concentration.  Although I have never had a formal art education, I took many evenings to read books on color, composition and everything a real artist needed to know.  Initially painting was my way of survival, gradually it became my way of life.  I began to believe that, if I worked hard enough, I might become a "Real Artist".  In that case I found myself in the right place at the perfect time.

Santa Fe still had the feeling of being a small village.  It hadn't been a long time since the woodsellers on the Plaza replaced their donkey driven carts with old pick up trucks.  People loved to tell their  family stories and I listened deeply regarding each story as a privileged confidence.   How did I get so lucky?  Some days when the children were away I would just wander around the Plaza - visit the museum, the Palace of the Governors, the Shop of the Rainbow Man - have lunch at the counter at Woolworths - just sit on a bench and watch people walk past.  I was a listener, an observer; this was my new home....would I ever feel that I belonged to this place?

The only two galleries - Jean Seth on Canyon Road and Margaret Jamison across from La Fonda - were learning this "art business" right along with the rest of us.  There was some rivalry, but everyone was excited by their derring-do to start a "new thing" in this small, still somewhat provincial town.  The openings were exciting - this was before the time when people just came for the drinks and snacks.  New artists began to emerge.  Jean Seth focused more on the down home local painters in and around Canyon Road.  Margaret had been friends with Fechin and Gaspard and was fond of the Taos painters.  She took a chance on a little known Native American named Fritz Scholder and kick- started what was later to be his international career.  Both galleries were the only real art venues in town.  Canyon Road was still an unpaved side street where most of the artists lived and had their studios.  In day to day life with all its ups and downs, one doesn't realize that they are living times that will never come again....the right place at the perfect time!

It was too soon for me to feel that I was part of this unusual place.  I still had one little toe in Chicago.  The tough Polish part of me lingered.  The fighter in me came out.  I was becoming part of a very competitive community of wanna-be artists - and I soon learned to hold my own.  At first it was all about financial survival - taking care of my children, paying down what was at that time a mountain of debt.  My days in the Advertising Department of Holiday Magazine in Chicago began to pay dividends.  Learning how to promote my work was essential.  Art shows, the Hallway Gallery were lessons learned - invaluable.  Some days were successful; some were complete flops.  The most important lesson was that the quality of my work really mattered to me.  I wanted to be a Good Artist!  This was my New Beginning.....