Sangre de Cristo

Sangre de Cristo, 11 by 14 watercolor, 300  lb. d''Arches paper

They marched up the Rio Grande valley almost 500 years ago on foot, on horseback, on oxcarts, exploring soldiers and priests, conquering and converting, for glory, gold and God.
As the conquistadors came, they conquered also with language, naming the landscape and villages and people as they came. Today that language and names remain, and you can glimpse and imagine what they saw and thought so long ago.
Homesick and thirsty in a dry land, they named mountains for the apples nearby (Manzanos), or because some looked like a watermelon and rind (Sandias) when the sun set. And farther north when clouds turned red when the sun set, the green and blue mountains would reflect the red glow. Those Franciscan friars could only think of the Sangre de Cristo.
They built their mission churches out of adobe, and those also reflected the colors of the dominant sky, usually an always varied earthen color. But not always. At Ranchos de Taos one relative new church built in the 1700s carries the name of their saint--San Francisco de Asis. 
It seems every artist has painted that church, Georgia O'Keeffe the most famous. My Dad drew and painted it. I've done so three times.
But something was missing. Thus the latest attempt, trying to paint what I feel when I enter New Mexico, not just see. This watercolor is the result of at least six attempts over the past week, full of failures and experiments, and a little blood. I guess that is fitting. I'm not finished and will try again.
Colors--3 blues, 3 reds, 2 siennas

Shadows of the cross--II

A crown of thorns always hangs on a cross beside The San Jose de Gracia Church, also known as Church of Santo Tomas Del Rio de Las Trampas, on the high road to Taos at Las Trampas. Built between 1960 and 1775, it's one of the oldest surviving 18th century churches. There are still folks up in that area who speak Castillian Spanish, direct from the Conquistadores' entrada in the  late 1500s.
The shadow of the cross is omnipresent on our favorite journey in New Mexico is up the High Road to Taos to ancient Spanish villages and churches, including Chimayo, destination of Holy Week pilgrimages and holy dirt; Truchas; and Las Trampas.

Inside El Santuario de Chimayo near the beginning of  the High Road where there is holy dirt

Cemetery at Truchas on the High Road to Taos before Las Trampas

Crosses at the ruined pueblo church at Taos Pueblo at the end of the High Road

Somewhere on the High Road

The High Road beckons

The High Road, 6 by 9 watercolor, 140# d'Arches

It's called "The High Road to Taos." branching off the main highway at Espanola or Pojoaque and heading toward my favorite New Mexico mountains, the Truchas peaks. 
You go back in time the higher in altitude you get, because of the ancient Indian pueblos and Spanish villages, like Chimayo', Nambe, Cundiyo, Truchas and Las Trampas. Some people up there still speak Castillian Spanish, from the days of the Conquistadors.
The way hasn't been paved long, and it's an excellent back road trip away from tourist traffic to our favorite town, Truchas, at more than 8,000 feet in elevation, still 5,000 feet below the 13,000 foot trio of Truchas peaks looming above. 
Most people don't know it, but they are the mountains in the famous Ansel Adams photograph, Moonrise over Hernadez, N.M.
The High Road to Truchas beckons as I see it in the days before pavement.

Manzanos in the morning

Pen and ink, on a steno pad, the view from the Albuquerque airport,

The great blue hulk of the Manzano mountains, stretching more than 50 miles southeast of Albuquerque are far less populated than the Sandias just north of them. On a cloudy day, looking east with the sun behind them you can barely see the streaks of snow on the highest peaks. The tall one is Capilla peak, more than 9,000 feet high, about 5,000 feed above the Rio Grand valley to the west. There's a fire lookout tower on the very top, and you can hike up there. I did so many years ago, from the other side.

These peaks captivate my imagination, and I've painted them twice, as did my Dad...but those views is from the north. On the opposite side in the foothills are Spanish land grants and small villages, and the beginning of the Great Plain, stretch all the way back to Oklahoma.  sketched this Veterans Day, waiting on a flight home from my uncle Mike's funeral in Santa Fe.  The mountains are part of the Rio Grand rift valley, thrust up on the east, while the west dropped.

Manzanos is Spanish for Apples, and when the evening sun and clouds are right, they do seem to turn red. I think Coronado and the Conquistadors of 500 years ago, homesick and thirsty marching up the valley from Mexico and El Paso del Norte, wistfully named them this, hungry for the apples from the orchards of Castillian Spain.