We went to Taos

We went to Taos a couple weeks ago. Barely have I begun to go through the photos I took. I started looking through the pictures last week but missed Taos enough that I had to stop. These images are about as far as I've gotten and they're just a few from the first day. 

We hiked every day, stood on the Rio Grande Gorge bridge and looked down into the canyon, drove dusty roads on meandering adventures, saw the Earthships; visited the Taos Pueblo and spoke with several artists there; drove the Enchanted Circle and hiked in Red River; hiked an old stagecoach trail down into the gorge and soaked in hot springs by the river; went to Abiquiu and Ghost Ranch and hiked up to Chimney Rock, looked down from the top to see what I think was Georgia O'Keeffee's house; went to Bandelier and saw ruins, hiked ancient footpaths at Tsankawi (which was my favorite) and listened to the sounds of our own footsteps in the worn rock, saw cliff-dwellings with ceilings still blackened from their fires, petroglyphs, and many pottery shards with painted patterns. On the trails we saw a number of flowers and cacti blooming, including one orchid in Red River, Indian Paintbrush, and others we haven't identified. Most days when we were traveling out of town to surrounding areas and hikes, we packed the cooler with lots of water and a picnic lunch. When we ate out, our favorite restaurants were Orlando's, La Cueva, and Love Apple. We walked about Taos, poked in a few shops and galleries, visited the Harwood Museum of Art which featured great regional art, enjoyed talking with Estefan at El Rincon Trading Post, who is the third generation owner of the shop. That is a great place to stop. Our apartment was right downtown, with a large balcony and west facing view. The sunsets were striking and we enjoyed sitting out there of a morning and looking north to the mountains. Waking up to a view, I loved it. Our week was full. It didn't speed by like I feared it would. We absorbed much, were dusty and sun-kissed at the end of each day, and thankful for hats and sunglasses. It was a fantastic trip and we were very glad to get away.

To sum up, I shared these thoughts with a friend:

I like the dusty, red earth. The sweetness of sage so present you can smell it through your car. Each bit of life spotted is a surprise. A lizard. A blooming cactus. Indian paintbrush. The air is light, you sometimes have to remember to breathe. Intensely blue skies. I see why painters land here. I see why they paint the sage, and the sunsets, and the adobe buildings.

 

Notes from the weekend:

A double batch of banana bread, (one for now, one to freeze), strawberry shortcake with garden strawberries and soft mounds of fresh whipped cream, cat naps, an excellent book, Anthony Doerr's new novel, All The Light We Cannot See, carving stamps with inspiration from Geninne's lovely book, Making an Impression, making thank you notes from the stamps and using neon yellow ink!, smelling the roses that are in full bloom around town, finding two flour leaf clovers on a long morning walk, and enjoying a little bit of rain.

Accepting new photo projects!

Over the past several years I have enjoyed photographing events and daily moments for friends and family. I love to photograph people simply being themselves. And in recent months I have been sharing some of those photos with you here on my blog, in addition to photos from scenes about town. 

Above is a sampling of my work which includes child, engagement, family, group events, and daily life. Lawrence area folks, if you or someone you know are interested in infant, family, simple gathering, party, event, or other session, feel free to contact me. You may email me with questions or to talk about rates. Thank you! 

Also, you may visit my photography page for a sampling of additional work.
 

Before you spoke to me... a new painting in stages

Before you spoke to me, process 

This is another one of those canvases that I began last year and then set aside. So the top image shows where the current painting began. Little remains from that stage, except the title, which was still important to me. This painting had a dark, cloudy stage, as you see on the left side. What worked in my sketchbook entry wasn't working in the painting. Neither was that early shell-like, cupped shape. I replaced it with the tall rectangular shape with rounded triangle points. After working through those issues, this painting flowed pretty well. I like the whites, and drawing with black. I have this one old brush, the metal ferrule is falling off and is just taped on, but it's my favorite for drawing some of those lines. It does what I like pencil to do in paper drawings. My recent goal has been to transfer my drawing and sketchbook ideas to canvas. I want the paintings to feel spontaneous, somewhat drawn, and have the paint qualities that I love, while also evoking a sense of having been through a journey of sorts. This painting balanced those aspects for me. I'm happy with it. Below is the finished work. 

Before you spoke to me, oil on canvas, 24 in. x 36 in., 2014

It occurred to me as I was about to hit the publish button, that you may be wondering what this painting is all about. Are you? Some people I think are content to let their eyes rest on those things that they find appealing, without minding if it says anything to them. Sometimes we just like things. Maybe you're not one of those people. Maybe in order for you to connect with a piece of art, you need to know what it means. Well, this painting, as in many of my works in recent years, is about finding hope. Working through trials, struggles, loss, grief, uncertainty, etc., and finding hope throughout the way, and on the other side of the process. We all have hard times at one point or another, some of those times are brief and others are long lasting. We each encounter our own desert. We don't know how long we're going to be in that desert. The uncertainty of how things will work out, or will they work out at all? (Pause.) Well, I believe so. Though that doesn't mean it always feels like it will work out, or that things work out the way we want. So I think for me, these paintings, in their finished state, and in the process of their making, reflect the going through these life events. Sometimes it helps me to have an eternal or big-picture perspective, (which isn't necessarily easy). To be like a bird looking down on everything, to see how the steps along the way equal up to one glorious thing.

Do you relate to any of that?