New Mexico Isn’t for Sissies

This is the sixth in a series of posts taking you back through a history of my work, from its very realistic roots to abstraction.

It took me much longer to build the Truchas house and get myself to New Mexico than I’d expected. I called it the long goodbye. I understand there were reasons I had to stay in Utah awhile longer. There was still some healing work for me to complete there, some closure that needed to be found, and I needed to rekindle my relationship with the desert. It had been an instrumental character in that part of my life—a great healer and teacher—and I owed it the respect of a proper leaving.

That couldn’t take place quickly. So I believe Spirit extended my stay. I spent those two years hiking to places I’d never been, as well as to all my favorite sites. Shortly before I left I saw my first Gila Monsters—three in one day—on a hike to some caves I’d wanted to explore. I’d longed to see one for eight years and there they were—like magic. It was a wonderful farewell present and I also took it as a sign that it was, indeed, time to go.

This period left me torn between a life that was dying and one that hadn’t been born yet and, of course, that showed up in my work. Just as I was traveling back and forth to New Mexico, I was hopping around trying different things in my art—being rather “homeless” in both.

This piece was already incorporating the stick fences of Truchas which crisscross the landscape offering endless lessons on perspective. They’re everywhere and I found them very beautiful. Still do.

I started working with the idea of simplifying. Perhaps I dipped into exploring the concept because my life felt rather jangled at the time, in the midst of so much change and so many unknowns. These shapes represent cattle on the horizon, once again in Truchas.

Here I’m playing with the parallel fences again that so captivated me, adding some cattle this time…

… and this piece paid homage to the diverse and beautiful rocks beneath my feet, walking the many dirt paths in Truchas.

This triptych, much larger than the photo indicate—in fact each panel is 30″ square—is meant to represent the layer of mud in the construction of adobe buildings that takes the final plaster. The walls are scratched like this so the new layer will adhere to them. I saw many of these walls exposed because their finished surface had come off over the decades. I thought of them as works of art and, like the petroglyphs in Utah, or the coil-made pots of the ancients, these scratches show the hand of the person who made them long ago.

These three panels were inspired by something that was both lovely and poignant at the same time, something I came upon when I was out walking one day. They were part of an old adobe barn with a plaque adhered to them. On it was a goodbye prayer to a husband who had died near the spot when the piece of equipment he was riding flipped over. I called the three pieces The Farewell Wall.

The time finally came for me to pack my car and a huge U-Haul trailer and make the drive, along with a dear friend and my 6 kitties, to a new life in New Mexico.

Below is my own sort of farewell wall, a final goodbye painting to the glittering sun and the red rock desert that had been my home and teacher for eight years of my life.

And this is one of my first paintings in Truchas. I was quite happy with it. But when a local artist said it looked like wallpaper, I had my first glimpse of raising the bar. It was, perhaps, the first time I realized I had moved myself to the home of the artist big boys and truly exceptional art.

Next I will show you the first generation, the real heritage, of an important group of paintings, The Dark Horse Series.

Love to you all,

Jeane