Working Artist on the High Road to Taos
But something vital I’ve come to know is this: no matter how hard it is to hold on sometimes, we are not disposable. Our selves, our dogs, our relationships, are not to be shunted aside when they become too difficult.
Ramsay’s wild patients represent the untamed world we’re running out of space for. So she takes them deeper into the mountains and forests, back to where she hopes the sweep of time may forget them. Winston Churchill famously said that “Success is not final, failure is not fatal. It is the courage to continue that counts.” And mercifully, Dr. Kathleen Ramsay does just that. She continues.
When asked what she thinks her biggest contribution is to her community, Kathleen Ramsay says that it is her Cottonwood Veterinary Clinic in Española, New Mexico. It’s a fairly rural area, and quite poor. She says, “Probably 60% of people living there make $10,000 per year.” And she has personally seen to it that her community can afford the very best medical care for their animals no matter their status and means.
I began this morning challenging Joseph Campbell and his immortal words, words I’ve held as true for so long: “Follow your bliss and the universe will open doors for you where there were only walls.” “Well, Joseph Campbell,” I wanted to scream, “… where are MY friggin’ open doors?”
Then it comes so clear to me: life is not what we leave behind. That’s history. Life is the living of it, in these moments when our hearts are beating in our chests, when our eyes gaze across the great beauties…
… and standing in the middle of that street, with no traffic, in the midst of all those abandoned buildings, the mercantile and houses, it was so quiet… It was almost as if I was sensing the silent footprints of a world now out of fashion.
This fear feels so old. Its birthing place nestled within the ancient history of man I’m thinking. We all must carry it, some sort of constantly on-guard defense system that will make us ready when the inevitable strike comes.
My life has been perfectly imagined into being, likely by the child I used to be, toddling on the beach with my Great-Grandma Casson, herself an artist—a painter and a songwriter. So I guess my wishes have come true, many of them. I just didn’t notice them when they did.
“A species of hope resides in the possibility of seeing one thing, one phenomenon or essence, so clearly and fully that the light of its understanding illuminates the rest of a life.”
You see her question took me back to my beginnings here, and the profound, deep effect Truchas, New Mexico has had on my painting. And I realized there is a story…
There is a real story to tell–about where I was as an artist BEFORE I came to Truchas and AFTER Truchas. It is a story of fences and horses and grasses and how they changed me.
As most of you know, I didn’t paint for 26 years after college, where I was a painting and drawing major and a printmaking minor. What you may not know is that coming back to painting took a tremendous commitment and no small amount of effort.
… this is where I caught my first true glimpse of me. THIS is where the abstracts were born. But I wouldn’t fully understand it until this very moment as I write it out to you.
A birthing that necessitated pain, as all birth does, was taking place and I was in it. I was coming into ME. And my paintings reflected all of it–the growth, the pain and the confusion.
… it was with some incredible hubris, if not utter disrespect, that I’d made these plans. I knew nothing about Truchas–its rich and complicated history, its heritage, its people, its simple AGE (the village was founded in 1754).
Apparent or not, these pieces were all born of the land. They illustrate a period of intense soul searching and growth that could only take place in the embrace of this place I had come to trust.
… when a local artist accused me of painting wallpaper, I had my first glimpse of raising the bar. Welcome to New Mexico kid! The home of the big boys and truly exceptional art.
I was living in a pale blue world. Snow covered the ground and the shadows cast on its surface offered up just about every shade imaginable—the sunlit sky of day with its blue and white clouds… pale blue everywhere.
There was also a small herd of horses pastured on the four acres in front of my house. They were rather skittish at first but, slowly, we got to know each other. Then, in the middle of what could only be called a blizzard, a little one was born. I saw her with her mama just after the sun came up. This wasn’t good.
I set out walking. There is no other way of putting it. I walked and walked, taking in this new place I called home. It was a need, a sort of walking meditation, that soothed something deep inside me.
So I make my paintings, influenced by the rich tradition of those who went before me, works made possible by the sacrifices required of revolution, by great artists breaking new ground. I think those artists live on, not only in their own works they left behind, but in the works of those of us who call ourselves abstractionists… the ground they broke is still bearing fruit.
I wish for all of us the pursuit of our dreams and the blessing of parents who grant them; to BE the parents who grant them, and the friends who support them. May we all live within our greatest possibilities and trust the process of life.
The trip was filled with ghosts and they or the land, or both, gripped my soul on this sunny New Mexico day when Kim and I journeyed back in time and experienced the conceived utopia of another era and a sense of the lives lived within it, in old houses and on ancient land.
This trio of cultures, Indian, Spanish, Anglo, is what’s left in these small Spanish land grant villages of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains. In fact the land grant families are still here, many generations later.
I am, once again, living in a place that is surrounded by ancient sites. Some of them are ruins, inhabited only by the spirits of those who went before, some are national parks and some are still active pueblo villages. The living pueblos include Taos, Picuris, San Juan, Santa Clara, Nambe, Pojoaque, Tesuque and San […]
Unlike Bandolier, which is inhabited only by the spirits that went before, Taos Pueblo is a living ancient village. This Pueblo is considered to be the oldest continuously inhabited community in the US, formally acknowledged as older than one thousand years. However, the people of the Pueblo say, “The Native legends and detailed oral history […]
“In the late 1960s at the height of his career, Dennis Hopper left Hollywood for artistic bohemia in New Mexico. His daughter looks back on a man in search of free expression and a more contemplative way of life.” This from the NYT tmagazine blog.
I can imagine the two very strong-willed people, each staking their creative claim to New Mexico’s high desert, feeling competitive with each other, each trying to make her mark.
I did not set out seeking Georgia as so many seem to do. I just went on a hike with friends. It didn’t occur to me until days later that we were in Georgia O’Keeffe’s White Place.
Since I first started to learn about cooking, bread has held a great fascination for me. I wanted to be able to duplicate the wonderful French baguette and Italian round loaves that I had known in Europe.
My child’s heart still has faith in our country and its government. Yes, the Senate broke it again today. Again. But they did not break our Democracy.
