Spiritual magnetism--paintings and a story

Magnetism. It's more than a physical property of the scientific and natural world.

There are places and people that can attract, or less often, repel you for that matter, in sometimes unexplainable ways. You know who they have been, who and what they are. You can feel the pull.

 

Rainwater reflection

For me, one of those places has been the remote east faces of the Manzano Mountains in New Mexico, along with its back roads and isolated villages. And one very old little Catholic church building. 

The force of that magnetic field increased this last month, and I succumbed a week ago, headed especially to see the church of San Antonio at the village of Tajique, population 148,  in the Estancia Valley Catholic Parish. I'm guessing it was originally built in the 1830s when this territory was part of Mexico. 

My watercolor, Dad's oil

I know some of the reasons, having spent part of my childhood in those mountains, and because of the pull of back roads, and in this case, because both my Dad and I have painted that church. Two of those paintings hang in our living room, as well as my Dad's sunflower and Manzano peaks painting over our mantel. I see them every day, traveling in my imagination and memories.
You can see I've exaggerated the nearness of the Manzano Mountains in the background, including the pointed Mosca Peak, over 9,000 feet high--the church is at 6,700 feet. I try to paint what I feel, and the magnetism of those mountains is strong.

Most recent, 8 x 10, for friend M.J. VanDeventer

My new photo above is in early morning, 65 degrees, after a thunderstorm captured the place. The parishioners have added a rock exterior and changed the bell tower since I last visited.  But I'm still drawn to the place, and to the fascinating variety of tombstones in the surrounding Campo Santo.

My photo from years ago

I've painted it at least three times, based on memory and photos and its magnetic attraction. One time when I drove by, a wedding was in process, with the newlyweds coming out the front door. 

The last time I took a photo of it, in black and white on a gray day some 30 years ago, it was much plainer. There's nothing plain about it magnetically.

My largest, 22 x 30

The Manzano magnetism of Mosca peak

Mountain Spirits, a painting's stories

"Mountain Spirits," 22 x 30, 300 lb. d'Arches

Long ago we built a cabin in the foothills of the Manzano Mountains in New Mexico.
My family bought two and a half acres  southeast of Albuquerque, where we grew up, so my Dad could have a studio.
As boys, my brother Jerry and I were given free reign to roam the forests, and the cabin and the mountains became part of our souls, our spirits, forever.

    " mountains became part of our souls, our spirits"

We loved the freedom, and the scenery as Dad painted oil landscapes. We could see the blue eastern slopes of the Sandias to the northwest, and south of us were the intriguing peaks of the Manzanos. 
I've even hiked to the top of the tallest Manazano peak where there is a fire observation tower. So many stories.

Dad painted them many times, and so have I. One of his, of sunflowers, painted not far from our cabin, hangs in our living room, as I've written about before. 
On the road to those peaks you pass through isolated little mountain villages, and in one, Tajique, is picturesque little Catholic church and its campo santo. I passed through there one Sunday and people were just getting out of church. So many stories.
I also took a black and white photo of it, which is somewhere here, though I can't find it at the moment.

My Dad painted that church, a small oil, and it also hangs in our living room. But  years later, I also had to try, and I think my watercolor is somewhat worthy of Dad's work. It may be my masterpiece. They hang together.
Then I tried this painting, my largest, and it hangs in my home studio where I'm writing this, getting ready for my April art show in 11 days at In Your Eye Gallery in Paseo Arts District in Oklahoma City. 
It will be one of 36 framed paintings and at least a dozen matted series, "Unicorn Universe," and "Barn Again."
The gallery will be open for the First Friday Art Walk from 6 to 10 April 6, and it's open every Thursday, Friday and Saturday from noon to 5. 
I'm now a resident member of In Your Eye, and will even be down there painting some days. In other months I'll have a few paintings displayed, along with 10 of my fellow co-op members. 
The stories, the spirit,  of a painting lead down many roads.

A redbud tree grows, Booth, chapter 14, Redux

From 2009

Chapter 14 of a gospel of friendship

"The Call" came.

April 1, 2005.

"How do you go to a funeral for someone who is literally 'larger than life'?  A few days later, the  faculty and staff of the Journalism Department somberly headed north, in several groups,  to Wichita. There they found an elegant Catholic church, only a few blocks from The Illidge manse. 

The Illidge manse, and the Redbud tree

"First driving by the manse, on the red brick streets, under the towering elms, past the porch and memories, they arrived early.

"All but one of the group, The Afghan Traveler, were Protestant, and at first uneasy walking through the front doors. But there was a photograph of The Illidge, in a Missouri sweatshirt, to welcome them, and down front were two reserved pews, near the family, for the Okies.
"In came the Sweet Pea and the 'chillen' as The Illidge called them. Sons Bob and Andy, daughters Fran and Sarah and Little Liz, and lots of grandchildren. Behind the Oklahoma pews were many of the parishioners who knew The Illidge from long before his Oklahoma sojourn.
"Then the graying priest stood up, before Mass, and made the 'visitors from Oklahoma' welcome with the kindest of words. During his homily there were tears, and laughter, as it should have been. During Mass, as The Traveler stood, along with the parishioners, and the other Oklahomans were seated, but no longer strangers in a strange land, but welcomed.
"Afterward, downstairs a scrumptious meal was served, again with photographs of The Illidge on the tables. The Okies were greeted as members of the family, and there was considerable conversation and introductions.
"At last, the Okies left, headed back south, somber, but also telling stories, espcially about the ceiling fan.
"Instead of flowers for a funeral for someone dead, they combined funds and bought a living redbud tree from a Wichita nursery, which was planted in The Illidge's front yard.
"It still blooms every spring.
"Only one chapter,  an epilogue and a postscript remain in this narrative, which has become exceedingly difficult  for The Clark to write. The PR Princess this week told him that if Bob is reading it, he would say 'That's OK, Boss.' The Queen Bee said The Illidge, the jazz man,  might forgive The Clark for writing the previous rap. It accompanied the only retirement reception for a professor ever organized by the students at UCO. "

To be continued...