There is a movie which takes place in New Mexico I love called “Off the Map.” In it Joan Allen tells a visitor, “New Mexico is a powerful place. Often when people first get here it’s a little overwhelming.” And that’s been true for me.
I had never been to New Mexico before coming to Truchas on a road trip with a friend. Despite the fact I bought land, sight unseen, on that first visit, my relationship with Truchas has never been warm and fuzzy. From the very first night I felt an odd combination of discomfort and peace. This land demands something of me. I’m not allowed to live on it passively. I am required to go deep.
I own two acres about 3/4 of a mile out of town, backed up against several thousand acres of wooded Spanish Land Grant. I have never lived in such isolation and wasn’t sure I’d like it. But something kept driving this project, by that I mean the cutting of a road out here, bringing in water, a septic system and electricity; building my house.
I experienced this space before it was built. I didn’t consciously tell myself to visualize being here but, regularly, often, I imagined I was sitting at the table having coffee, watching the sun come up over Truchas Peaks. I sat on my deck with a glass of wine at sunset. I entertained friends. I painted in my studio. It was all very real. I believe, now, this is the reason my home was built. I ”felt” it into creation.
It is stunningly beautiful where I live, silent and dark. I have never felt one moment of fear out here, even though friends and my contractor told me to get a big dog and a gun. I walk on my land in the pitch black; I stand in the snow, embraced by the stars. I wander the Land Grant in my jammies. This land is mine and I belong to this land. I am safe.
The first couple of years here I lived “skinless.” I felt stripped bare, vulnerable. I experienced a kind of shattering, a total deconstruction of everything I had come to know as me. I am in the process, now, of examining all those pieces and deciding which I want to keep. I have just begun, very slowly, to assemble them into a new self.
Therapy came from an unexpected source: A herd of six horses that fell into hard times my first winter. With permission, I cared for them through the spring and they have been caring for me ever since. Horses are prey animals with intense instincts for danger. If anything is out of whack, even slightly, they’re going to see/sense it and respond. If I ever approached them falsely, if my exterior did not reflect my interior, I was greeted with distrust. They became a sort of barometer for keeping me real. The herd is calming and grounding for me and I am more connected and conscious because of them.
Photo: Kevin Huett
My art has shifted dramatically since arriving here. While shadow and light had always been my driving force, in Utah my abstracts changed to shape and color. I came to understand, once I was here, that I’d abandoned shadow because I was only willing to paint on the surface. I’d suffered too much loss and I didn’t want to “go there.” But New Mexico provided a safe place from which to, once again, examine shadow, to explore the dark. Black and white came back into my paintings and my Llano Series were born.
Photo: Kevin Hulett
The Llano Quemado which, loosely translated, means burned or cleared area, is an older, wilder part of Truchas. It’s where my horses live. I walk out through the Land Grant to the Llano everyday. There are old stick fences that have been repaired over and over through the decades to become their own art form. The wildness of the place, its history and culture, the animals, the beauty, have infused my work.
I am a serious working artist. I believe the universe has told me to paint. But in guiding me to paint it’s also telling me to heal. It is no accident I’m here in this tiny Spanish Land Grant village delving into the core of me. We don’t get to make meaningful art until we’ve made meaningful lives. My work (both my paintings and my life) are unfinished. I am in process and I am, finally, listening and responding to the messages.
your an expert !!!
Don’t I wish!!
As a babe with no concious recall of walking, laying on the blanket of opportunity to do so – we have your sea legs. As the child hanging on to the items of life that we can use as help to find our way to crawling, then walki, then RUN in expectation of the wonderful event. As we watch the babe learn to crawl and walk have we taken time to emapthized with the huge undertaking this new human is taking? I suppose no one said it was easy to learn to walk…does our subconcious recall the frustration or do we choose to imprint the awe of the space around us outside the womb so that we keep on trying and succeed…as you do now:) You are brand new in every moment…as every moment offers to every one. You just know it more than some. Happy running to you sweet heart of the Mountains. And happy stumbling as well:)
Love and open hearted glee to you today and always
Grace
Ah, thank you Grace. There’s been lots of stumbling lately, but we are brand new in every moment and I celebrate that. Love and glee to you as well, my good friend.
I think you would enjoy these lyrics to a song written by Ray LaMontange
All the wild horses
All the wild horses
Tethered with tears in their eyes
May no man’s touch ever tame
May no man’s reigns ever chain you
And may no man’s weight ever defrayed your soul
And as for the clouds
Just let them roll
Roll away
Roll away
As for the clouds
Just let them roll
Roll away
Roll away
Oh Bonnie, it’s beautiful. Thanks for sharing it. It makes my heart ache but that’s not always a bad thing. Give my love to Utah!
Hi Jeane: I hope you still read your blog’s comments. I saw the movie “Off The Map” and had an extremely physical reaction during one specific scene. When the sun was setting and the young man heard the song “Me and Mrs. Jones”, he lingered for hours transfixed by the landscape (even though there was an attractive woman nearby). All my hopes, fears, desires and dreams came out in a hyperventilated sobbing session. You see, I’ve had a dream of living in New Mexico for longer than 20 years now. Last year I was finally able to leave my 8-5 job and pursue what had kept me sane and whole all those years, my art. I work in fabric (textiles), watermedia, collage and pastel. Learning through the joy of art has, for me, been the antidote to working the the Texas prison system for 28 years (in a desk job). I “get” your story… the horses in particular grabbed my attention. I could feel your story as I read it. One of my favorite quotes says, “The Journey is the Reward”. Your journey is the reward. I keep on keeping on with my art work, spiritual centering and sharing. For now, I will continue to read the rest of your story, but I already feel a connection of sorts.
Julia A Walsh
http://forgivingdreams.blogspot.com/
Hi Julia–How truly lovely to hear from you. I’m so happy that my story resonates with you. That’s the reason I’m doing the blog–to shore up other artists who are pursuing their dreams. But I want you to know something important: I went to bed last night feeling discouraged about the blog, feeling it wasn’t reaching anyone and questioning whether or not I should continue. Then I awoke this morning to your messages, among several others, and I felt it was an absolute message from the universe that I’m to continue. So thank you for sharing a part of your story and yourself with me. You are keeping ME going.
The Llano Quemado was known as El Llano de los Quemadenos when I was a boy. It means the ‘llano’ or plain of the people from Quemado, or where the people from Quemado lived. Quemado, or El Pueblo Quemado, was the name of present-day Cordova before the establishment of a U.S. Post Office there.
I remember my aunt and uncle, who lived in El Llano, would always go down to Cordova on election day to vote when I was a boy. Even today, a lot of the people living in El Llano are originally from Cordova.
Just sharing an obscure little fact with you.
I love learning these obscure facts. Thank you. The old road to Cordova is out there on the llano. I guess that’s why. I’d been looking for it for some time thinking it was near where I live, but my neighbor, Walter Fernandez, told me where to find it out on the llano. He has shown me the old trails that were used for generations, connecting the llano to downtown Truchas and to my land that is backed up by the land grant. Thank you so much for your input. It’s invaluable.
If you know where Vicki Markley’s land is, the road takes off from the edge of her property. I wish it was linked to mine so I could walk it every day. The old trails that used to cut through the land grant that are near me have been blocked by numerous fences. I hear the old road to Cordova is still in tact.
I have to say thank you! I’m closing on my own piece of NM today. Like you – two acres in Truchas. The house needs much TLC, yet a vacation/retirement dream come true. I first stumbled upon your blog a few months ago with a random “Truchas” Google search. I’d seen the property online, and suddenly wanted to know everything I could about Truchas. This purchase was a true test of perseverance, with it’s seemingly endless red tape, and hoop after hoop to jump. But your blog, and amazing photos, kept me motivated and inspired! I’ve read almost every post now – not in order – but just organically letting one lead to the next. It will be years from now – but I’m counting the days until I can follow your footsteps and call Truchas home.
Oh how lovely to know! Thank you. You’ve taken steps, huge steps, to begin your very own mysterious New Mexico journey. The movie, Milagro Beanfield War, kept me going through the hard twists and turns before I finally got to settle here. Have you read William De Buys’s wonderful history of the area, Enchantment and Exploitation, the Life and Hard Times of a New Mexico Mountain Range? If not, I highly recommend it. Also his poignant, River of Traps. Congratulations on the purchase of your land. I feel certain your experience will be as profound as mine has been.
Oh yes! Amarante, Joe, and Ruby feel like old friends! They have also really helped family and friends here in Connecticut understand the lifestyle I’m seeking. I grew up in southern New Mexico so in many ways this will be coming home – but I’ve always been drawn to Northern NM. Thank you for the book recommendations – ordering them now!
Did you know that Milagro Beanfield War was filmed in Truchas? You can still see the paint on Ruby’s garage. You might also want to get DeBuys’s The Walk. I did a post about it: http://high-road-artist.com/8242/artist-profiles/taking-the-walk-with-william-debuys/. Where is your land? Did Vicki Markley sell it to you?
I ordered The Walk also! I remembered your mention of it once I saw it on Amazon today. Yes, when we visited my father in April we made a game of listing all the movies we could think of that were filmed in NM. In part what started this whole adventure… The property is off State Rd 76, behind the Truchas Peaks Place. It was a bank owned property – so I worked with their listing office in Santa Fe.
Hmmmm, I’ll have to look over there the next time I go to Taos. Anyway, a big congratulations! Welcome to the village (even though that’ll be a few years from now–it seems your heart is already here).
Just a thought: I’m wondering if you’d like to do a bit of “sharing.” Kim (you’ve read about him on the blog) needs a place away from this place to be able to paint uninterrupted. That’s impossible in this house of 7 animals as well as me. But he can’t afford to rent a place of his own. Would you be interested in him sort of care-taking your place, keeping it lived in and watched over, in exchange for allowing him to use it as a studio? He could probably pay you something.
Certainly something to think about… Do you have an email address we can use to continue the conversation? I can tell you a little more about the house and my plans…
Yes, it’s jeanegeorgeweigel@gmail.com.