Franciscan star, of earth and faith--8 days 'til Christmas

St. Francis Mission, Ranchos de Taos, 5 x 7 watercolor card 

St. Francis is everywhere in Northern New Mexico, settled, not always peacefully, almost 500 years ago by Spanish conquerers and Franciscan priests.
An icon of that time, when missions were built by faith from earth, looking to the heavens, is the church of St. Francis in Ranchos de Taos. It's been painted and photographed innumerable times by innumerable people, including me, in watercolor and oil.
My attempts, in these cards, remembers the continuing faith of the followers of St. Francis, still very much alive as the holy season  nears its climax...under the bright stars over the Sangre de Christo Mountains.

The iconic buttresses of the church, facing west, 5 x 7 card

Painting to learn, not to hang

"Sunset at Ranchos," 8 x 10 oil

Maybe it'll look better in a frame.
After weeks of 'learning" a lot about oil painting, I think this small piece, which is large in learning, is "finished."
Whew. It's taken me a few steps at a time, filled with  lots of paint mixing, lots of "piddling," lots of patience, on the back porch. 
First steps were the easiest, getting the basic shapes and shadows, but then came the ordeals of trying to make it look like the image in my head.
Virtually every artist who has come to New Mexico has painted, typically  horizontally,  the iconic church at Ranchos de Taos, usually from the graceful, sensuous adobe buttresses at the rear.  Georgia O'Keefe did, My Dad did. I have, mostly watercolor, and can probably do so from memory.
But this as an 8 x 10 on canvas panel was not exactly an ordeal, but certainly at lot of work, thinking, and revising. That means I'm learning, I hope,  but it may also mean I've learned that oils was just not for me.
"Paint to learn, not to hang," said G. Russell Case, the terrific Western landscape painter who conducted the oil workshop at the Cowboy and Western Heritage Museum June.  
Maybe it'll look better in a frame. But I still see flaws, beginner's flaws. We'll see. I'll hang in in the room where I paint as a lesson in how much I don't know.

Difficult learning

So much to learn

"Don't paint to hang, paint to learn."
So said Prix de West landscape artist G. Russell Case at the oil painting class I took last month at the National Cowboy and Western Heritage Museum.
"Learn what color does," was another part of his "theology of painting" in the four days. He said if we'd had time, we'd have spent most of the time mixing color. "Mix paint-that's what we do."
I'm learning, slowly, with difficulty, trying to paint in the mornings on the back porch when it's cool. 

Russell Case teaching oil painting

I'm encouraged mainly by one other of his theology "beatitudes, about not getting in a rut, "You're only as good as what you're taking on."
At least I'm "taking on."
Folks who think watercolor is the most difficult of mediums haven't seen me trying to go back and forth from watercolors to oils.
I'm sinning often. "Don 't fiddle," he said, and that's been a problem of mine in watercolor. But nothing compared to what I'm trying in oils.
But I'm learning, the hard way. 
He had me the first day when he mentioned The Art Spirit by Robert Henri, an old copy of which I have heavily marked up.

One of my Dad's oils, over our mantel

So I'm rereading it again, marveling at how little I know, how daunting this effort has been, how much more I admire my Dad's talent that I've been around all my life. But I know from his notebooks even my Dad was constantly learning. 
Here's the latest stage of "Sunset at Ranchos," 8" x 10", of the iconic church of Saint Frances, Ranchos de Taos, New Mexico. 
Next steps, mix more paint, fiddle less. Difficult learning. Difficult challenge.

All mixed up--Learning the hard way with oil

When you paint, you mix colors. I learned that in watercolor long ago--a few colors give you a varied spectrum.
But undertaking--or trying to undertake--oils has been learning the hard way all over again. At the recent oil painting workshop at the National Cowboy and Western Heritage Museum, landscape artist G. Russell Case told us he'd prefer to have us spend most of our time just mixing paint.
After today, trying to take the next steps in an 8 x 10 painting of the church of St. Francis in Ranchos de Taos, N. M.,  I wish he had done it.
Last week I managed to sketch in the outline of the building. Piece of cake--red oxide faintly applied. 

Today, I undertook the next phases. Color triad for harmony in mixing and results: Red-Orange, Blue Green, Red.
1. Start with the darkest. Done. Junipers.
2. Move to the next darkest.
I was pleased with one part of the process today--painting the low wall in the foreground. The shadow by the door was too dark.
3. Since then, darker to lighter and scrumbling a rough in the sky to get rid of the whites, I ended up a little pleased, but seeing all kinds of problems for later corrections.

4. The further I went, missing colors, trying to get the light right, the more eventual adjustments I saw. Translated--I was making too many brush strokes, and the near wall is way too dark.
5. Now the paint is wet, so it must dry as I nurse my frustration, and think about it.
6. All mixed up indeed. Learned--new respect for my artist Dad, Terrence Miller Clark, and his talent in oil painting.
7. More paint to mix--later this week.

Memories, of art and seasons

"Memories," today's 5 x 7 #watercolor card

Coast down the "hill" on the High Road to Taos in New Mexico and you enter Ranchos de Taos. Turn north to the iconic architecture of sacred Native American Taos Pueblo.
Turn south and you come to another icon of sacred architecture at the Spanish mission of San Francisco de Asis, centered in what was the town's plaza.
Built between 1772 and 1816, about 120 feet long, its picturesque adobe buttresses at the rear include the distinctive beehive shapes. 
The church has captured artists' and photographers' attention for years, perhaps most famously, Georgia O'Keefe, but also mine, and my father's, almost 80 years ago.
Memory goes deep inside in such a place, and the church draws you there, as a pilgrimage almost, even if you are not a Catholic.
Memory so deep, so tactile from many drawings and paintings,  that this watercolor comes quickly, without even looking at a photo or other work.
And below, are two of Terrence Miller Clark's (Dad's) 12 x 18 plus frames drawings from 1940. And my most recent photo, in September. 
All art comes from memories, just as this season does.
Memories.

Story of a painting--Failures, or lessons, in watercolor and life

"After the Storm," Ranchos at Sunset, 14" by 21" 300 lb. d'Arches cold press paper

Every painting is a journey, an education for me. Inspired today when friend M.J. VanDeventer Shelton spoke about Jerome Tiger at the National Cowboy and Western Heritage Museum, I came home and vowed to complete this this lesson. It was not as effortlessly or talented as Tiger's work, but at least I finished.
Everybody paints the church of St. Francis at Ranchos de Taos--from Georgia O'Keeffe. My Dad drew it twice at least in the depths of the Depression, and I have those framed.
I've tried before, and one of the them I'd framed several years ago.

Previous painting, but I'll use the frame and mat

Now, getting ready for an art show in April, I realized it's drab, and architecturally inaccurate. I'm not trying to make a photography, but my journalism demands accuracy on basic details before artistic license kicks in. This will be exhibited in April  among with about 30 or more of my worth watercolors, starting April 6 at Paseo Arts District First Friday art walk, and the gallery I'm in, In Your Eye Gallery and Studio. 
I tried earlier this month to replace the old painting, using the same mat and frame, and failed on the last step--the sky. 
So this time, I started with the sky, and then forgot the basic of watercolor, start with light. I did the sky first, this time, but forgot about the snow until later. But I'm sorta happy with this version, or you wouldn't be seeing it.
Here's the story of that painting, from the beginning.

With the previous failure/lessons

Almost

When the sun comes out

Shadow of the Cross, Ranchos de Taos, 11 by 14 watercolor, 300# d'Arches

After days of cold, gray, wet and unsettled weather, we awake to a north wind but clearing skies. Yes the temperature drops, but spirits rise with dawn. The sun comes up, casting shadows not seen in days, and personal shadows disappear  with hot coffee and a warm fire in the fireplace.
On the plaza at Ranchos de Taos in northern New Mexico, remnants of snow slowly melt atop the adobe walls of Saint Francis church, and the rising sun in the chill mountain air casts a fleeting shadow of one of the bell tower crosses on  its earthen walls.

Solstice thoughts and New Mexico

Winter solstice at Ranchos de Taos, 14" by  20" watercolor, 300# d'Arches

The shortest day of the year, and the longest night, as the world turns again, and cold sets in. I dream of a pinon fire in an adobe cabin in Northern New Mexico...good books, posole and green chili stew, beverages and a loved one. No television or digital stuff...just the crackling of the fire, the still cold air outside, traveling in imagination and miles and years.
Always in my mind's eye is the iconic church of Saint Francis at Ranchos de Taos, painted by artists like O'Keeffe and photographers like Adams and Strand, as well as my Dad, back in the 1930s--I still have his drawings. We've taken students there on study tours. We last visited in October--it demands a pilgrimage.
The Franciscans built in as a mission church  between 1772 and 1816; it is a National Historic Landmark. The front includes two bell towers, but the rear of the church is a favorite view. In most works,  artists favored its smoothly sculpted adobe beehive buttresses.I've painted it in oil and watercolor, and photographed it many times. It seems to me this view speaks to this year's solstice...somehow eternal.

Shadow of the cross--I

Shadow of the Cross, Ranchos de Taos, 11 x 15 watercolor, 300# d'Arches

Easter thoughts...from the symbol of death to life. The cross and execution of Jesus 2,000 years ago casts a long shadow. Where I grew up in very old and Catholic New Mexico, the cross is omnipresent. 

Holy Week is sacred there, with pilgrimages  and prayers and ceremonies and Catholicism. The iconic church of St. Francis at Ranchos de Taos has been painted by generations, and mine captures melting snow on a cold morning. Here's where I got the idea, and the crosses that cast the shadow, symbolic of the religion's influence.