West by Southwest

After a recent trip to New Mexico I was happily thinking I have now explored every corner of that state. From Tucumcari to Carlsbad, Chama and Raton to Hobbs, Santa Fe, Taos, and Albuquerque to Clovis to Cimmaron to Gallup. (Although, I discovered, after watching a CBS Sunday Morning report, that I have never been to Pie Town, off the beaten track and perched on the Continental Divide, and famous for, yes, it's pies).

This past June we were headed to Ruidoso,  (between Roswell and Alamagordo above) to stay at the vacation house of kind friends, and to take a quick side trip to Silver City, just to see what was there. It kept turning up in magazines as one of the 'best small towns in the U.S.' and also a burgeoning arts community.

Ruidoso is only four hours from Lubbock and includes a pass through Roswell, home of the UFO Museum. Since we had seen it before, a few years ago, we kept on going, up into the rolling foothills, then through the Hondo Valley, slowly climbing from 3500 ft back on the high plains to 8000 feet in Ruidoso. Our final destination was 6 miles down the road from the town, to Alto, to a house perched on a hillside overlooking a small lake. Time to kick back with a book and a glass of wine.

Even our bedroom had a great view:

We found our favorite coffee shop, Sacred Grounds, in a newer larger location, with layers of decks overlooking the Ruidoso River. And we visited it frequently.

He's reading a biography of Thomas Jefferson.

It's been a green, wet year here, too, so everything was blooming.

Next came our side trip to Silver City. In order to get there, as there is no direct route, we had to drive through Alamagordo, past White Sands and the missile range, down into the Chihuahuan desert to Las Cruces, then slowly back up to the high desert mountains of western New Mexico.
Here's the giant pistachio at the pistachio orchard in Alamagordo.

 From there we dipped down into the Chihuahuan desert, where all cars reached a checkpoint and had to pull of the road to be questioned by the border patrol. We passed, and were sent on our way.

 The Organ mountains that loom over Las Cruces.

 More wide open spaces where we picked up I-10, which runs across the lower U.S. from Florida to California, Everything was bright and hot, with a haze of sand.

Silver City was quirky and isolated, seemingly filled with old hippies, happy lesbians, college students, and people who like being off the main road.

 Our first and best stop, was lunch at the Curious Kumquat, where we had fish tacos and a divine key lime pie dessert.

http://curiouskumquat.com/

A commercial shot:

We stayed at the Murray Hotel, which had a 30's art deco look, having been actually built back then, and which still retained a sort of noir novel vibe from that era, right down to lack of air conditioning.

Here's the lobby.

There was art around town and a few galleries, but not quite as much art as we expected, certainly not the quality and quantity I am now used to in Lubbock.

We went up a few miles into the mountains to Pinos Altos ('tall pines' or 'high penis' depending on your pronunciation.) There was an old saloon and opera house there from the 19th century mining days, which was now a fun and cozy bar, that gave music concerts next door.

By the next day we were ready to head back to our nice digs in Alto so back we went through the desert, and back up into the mountains of Ruidoso. On the way we stopped at Ruidoso's famous resort and casino, The Inn of the Mountain Gods, owned by the Mescalero Apache tribe. We took a quick tour through the hotel and grounds, enjoying the scenery. There was a zip line from the opposite mountain down across the lake I was dying to try but there was a long wait and it cost $35 for a run, so maybe next time.....

Here's a commercial shot:

And my cell phone shots:

 A great golf course.

All in all an enjoyable trip, with lots of good New Mexican food.

Put a Pachyderm On It

I have been known to put lots of birds in my artwork. They are bright, tiny, colourful, and appealing. Well, maybe not my grackles. Some people don't like grackles. I just think of them as crow's bratty younger siblings.
                                                                   Cute Wren

                                                                Cranky Grackle

On the other end of the wildlife spectrum, I also like to put elephants in my art. They have their own kind of appeal, whether in their grand size and textured skin, or just their clannish and emotional nature. As an animal lover I have a particular fondness for them. In some cultures they bring luck or good fortune, and they often work for a living. I don't like to see them in circuses. They look their best in the jungle or roaming the plains of Africa.

Stepping Out

I have neglected my little blog. I know consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds, but really what does that mean? I am consistent in my artwork, in my observations of the world, in my daily rituals. I am inconsistent in house cleaning, in gardening, in answering email.
Still, it's April, and my birthday, so I am only posting one image. I shot this on my cell phone last night watching the Flatlands Dance Theatre perform for A Taste of Dance at Melissa Grimes lovely, wild, adventurous house. (If Alice in Wonderland were set in Santa Fe that's what her house looks like.)

One click of my cell phone camera and Kris steps out into space. As every dancer does when they set foot on a stage, whether that stage is in a theatre with professional lighting or a back yard with the last rays of the sun peaking through the trees. I love this moment that defies gravity yet will eventually yield to it. Poise, grace, anticipation, a moment of movement frozen in time. As I turn 65 I stand on another brink. Life and time pushing me onward. Deep breath. And go.

No Subject Matter

I know I should draw daily, just like I brush my teeth or stretch my body, but I don't. I still do art daily. It's just more likely to be splashing paint on paper or stitching bits of fabric together with no end goal in mind, no sense of direction, no finished image in my mind. I love to dwell in sponteneity and improvisation. It feels less like an artists' chore (sketching is like eating my veggies every day) and more like just having fun (i.e. eating that second square of chocolate).
  Lately, lacking any new direction or inspiration I have merely been doing small abstracts just to play with colour and design. Sometimes they work, sometimes they don't, and sometimes I work them to death and toss them, but not before flipping them over and painting the other side. I have been known to save the torn pieces of one painting and stitch them on to another one. And when all else fails I cut them into 2" x 6" strips and make bookmarks out of them. Waste not, want now. Good paper and paint are expensive.

Some small abstracts:

 If I want to use some computer skills I go into Corel and crop an even smaller section, then play with colour variations, as with the two pieces above. That way, if I want to recreate them on a canvas on a bigger scale I can see which colour choices work best:

I definitely could see this one below on a large canvas, and the colour has much more originality than the original blue version above.

 Meh.......

 Not a fan of pink but it plays nicely against the aqua and rust, with the blue softening those odd mixtures down a bit.

Sometimes I add onto something I have already done, like stitching a scrap of old cyanotyped paper onto another painting:

Then cropping it and using my Corel program to desaturate the colour:

Dull, but I could make it pop on a giant scale by using bright red on that stripe.

Or I take another section of the same work and using a Watercolour program with a bit of clone tooling
 it takes on an Impressionist quality.:

These are all just exercises but they help me train my eye. The beauty of abstract work is that it keeps me from being distracted by subject matter and lets me focus strictly on the elements of design. They could turn into large paintings, or even large art quilts, if I was so inspired. You never know. Unless I get distracted ......

And occasionally I put a bird on it:

Resolute

Oh hello 2015. You just sort of slipped in the back door when I wasn't noticing. Maybe because I got sick between Christmas and New Year's and got snowed in as well, and just languished in bed like a Bronte sister on a bad day.

Unfortunately every one of them, Charlotte, Anne, Emily, and even brother, Bramwell, died of Tuberculosis. I don't think my puny bronchitis qualified as a serious illness.

Sad Victorians aside, I think everyone should take a week off to languish. Have soup brought to you, prop up on pillows and read books, doodle in a sketchbook, check e-mail, Facebook, Tumblr, Pinterest in random order, play Words With Friends, text your daughter on the phone, in the same house, and have her brew a nice cup of Earl Grey in the kitchen. Ah yes, and after a week, you can emerge three pounds lighter, pale as a waning moon, fully rested, muscles a bit limp, and step outside to squint at the lemony sun.

I enjoyed my reading time, especially as my sweet husband gave me a Kindle Fire for Christmas:

But then it's back to work. Yoga and the art studio. I need a new goal this year. I have artwork in a current show but then nothing on the horizon.

In the spirit of DIY I usually decide to have a show with some sort of theme then just go out and see what gallery (or coffee shop, or even my own house) wants to show my art. It's nice that there are enough local venues to allow that to happen. But for now I am fallow. Maybe that was the point of lying in bed for a week, to recharge, to renew, to restore. A new year with new ideas. At one point I never would have dared or hoped or envisioned that I could just create my own life, that I could make things happen by just deciding to. That is a frame of mind that was a long time coming. If even the Brontes, dying from tuberculosis in a bleak, drafty house on the moors could create great literature, then surely I can continue making art and finding ways to show it. Hope is nothing without action.