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musings from the studio and beyond ~

dawn chandler’s reflections on art and life. . . .

 

the very large triptych, part 3

On April first 2023 I began my immersion into the panoramic landscape. RAS would be back in Santa Fe later in the month, when we’d sign an agreement for the very large triptych commission. Although they graciously invited me to go out to their place whenever I wanted, I was reluctant to go on their property until we had a signed agreement. Yet I was eager to acquaint myself more deeply with the land and sky I’d be painting. So I ventured out as close as I could get: I went into the Caja.

When you look west from Santa Fe to the Jemez Mountains and Los Alamos, you gaze across the vast pinon- and juniper-dotted high desert of the Caja del Rio. I’ve written about this sacred, vital, and beloved land in my blog post history and mystery in the new mexico landscape. The main access point to the Caja from Santa Fe involves driving through Las Campanas to the long washboarded dirt Old Buckman Road. Late in the day, and especially on weekends, the road becomes a band of dust as pickup trucks loaded with ATVs speed on their way to the trails honey-combing the hills of the Caja.

In early spring there wasn’t much color to the earth and sky out there, nor were there interesting clouds. Yet it was still satisfying to be out there among pinon and juniper and ravens under the big blue dome.

Early spring late afternoon light across the Caja del Rio near Santa Fe, New Mexico. Photo by Dawn Chandler.

And, as I discovered on my several excursions in early April, as nightfall approaches and the motorized traffic and dust settle down, if you’re paying attention, enchantment emerges…

A young elk spotted in the juniper at twilight at the Caja del Rio, Santa Fe, New Mexico. Photo by Dawn Chandler.

Cervus canadensis: Elk, also known as “wapiti,” which, I just learned from professor Wiki, come from the Shawnee and Cree word for “white rump.”

A pair of young elk spotted in the juniper at twilight at the Caja del Rio, Santa Fe, New Mexico. Photo by Dawn Chandler.

After each excursion I returned home to review my photos and make notes and watercolors in my VLT journal….

Preparing for the very large triptych project, painting watercolor sketches of big sky at the Caja del Rio, Santa Fe, New Mexico. Watercolor by Dawn Chandler.
Preparing for the very large triptych project, painting watercolor sketches of big sky at the Caja del Rio, Santa Fe, New Mexico. Watercolor by Dawn Chandler.
Preparing for the very large triptych project, painting watercolor sketches of big sky at the Caja del Rio, Santa Fe, New Mexico. Watercolor by Dawn Chandler.
Preparing for the very large triptych project, painting watercolor sketches of big sky at the Caja del Rio, Santa Fe, New Mexico. Watercolor by Dawn Chandler.

This is part three of a several part series:

the very large triptych, part one
the very large triptych, part two


Santa Fe, New Mexico artist Dawn Chandler on the beach in Baja.

Thanks for finding your way here and for reading my musings. If you think others might appreciate them, feel free to share this post. If you’d like to read more of my musings please consider subscribing to this, my blog.

Meanwhile, find more of my stories, insights and art here on my website www.taosdawn.com. Shop my art via my Etsy shop. And please consider joining me for TuesdayDawnings, my weekly deep breath of uplift, insight, contemplation & creativity. Find other ways to keep tabs on me via my connect page.

Stay safe. Be kind. Notice what you notice.

~ Dawn Chandler
Painting, writing, photographing, hiking, noticing and breathing deeply in Santa Fe, New Mexico.

Free from social media since 2020

the very large triptych, part 2

On March 1st, 2023 our schedules finally aligned so that we could all meet in person at RAS’ Las Campanas home. From the moment I met them, RAS’ enthusiasm and appreciation for my art and me made me feel like a rock star.

After chatting for a bit and admiring their beautiful art collection, I asked to see the view they wanted painted.
From their rooftop deck are panoramic vistas of the Jemez to the west and Sangre de Cristos to the east. In late winter all the landscape — earth and sky, summits and sage — blended into each other in drab shades of khaki green, tan and blue-grey. But I could just imagine how spectacular and vibrant the views were going to be come summertime rain.

Initially RAS had in mind a dramatic sunset view for the triptych, but now they weren’t so sure — colorful sunrise over the Sangres? Dramatic sunset over the Jemez? Midday big blue sky and puffy white clouds? “We’re looking to you to guide us,” they said to me.

Back inside, TAC and I double-checked the measurements of the wall. I then considered the layout and decor of the living room, and shared my thoughts:

I suggest reducing the scale of the overall triptych, because I think 48″ x 60″ — which will make the whole thing 4′ x 15′ — may overwhelm the wall. I’d scale it down a little bit so that there’s white space all around to “frame” it, and give it some breathing room.

In terms of the sky, clouds definitely make for a more interesting painting. But I would avoid anything overly dramatic. A really intensely colored sunset, say, with lots of bright oranges and reds, might feel overpowering. Plus, this room already has a lot of warm colors. It might be nice for the triptych to have some cooler colors. So, for instance, a late afternoon scene, when the clouds are building in shades of purple-blue, but there’s still lots of blue sky peeking through.

TAC echoed these points, and RAS agreed.

“That all sounds good. We’re in no hurry — we want it done right — but just general, how long do you think it will take?” RAS asked.

The triptych would be going on the wall above the recessed shelves, replacing the taxidermic heads.

Basically I see this project having three components or phases: The first phase I’ll call “Discovery,” which will involve photography: Me coming out here and taking photos from your deck. This spring I’ll be on high alert to the sky, and whenever it looks like we’re going to have good cloud action, I’ll drive out here to take photos. I’m guessing I’d make a dozen or so trips out here.

The thing to keep in mind is that spring clouds can be pretty rare out here. Our best clouds usually come in summer, during the monsoons. Hopefully we’ll get good clouds this spring, but we’ll just have to wait and see.

Phase Two I’ll call ‘Exploration.’ This is when I’ll narrow down the photos to maybe a dozen of the very best. From those I’ll make several small oil painting studies to the scale of the overall triptych. Once the studies are complete, I’ll share them with you. Ideally there will be one that really speaks to you, and that’s the one that I’ll enlarge into the triptych. Phase Three is painting the triptych.

The photography phase will likely take the longest, since it depends on the weather. If I start coming out here in April, I’d anticipate taking photos through June or July — so three to four months for photography. Creating the studies will take probably four to six weeks, depending on how many I paint. Painting the overall triptych should go relatively quickly — maybe two to three months.

So… I’m guessing maybe by Christmas it’ll be done? I can’t guarantee that, but, if all goes as hoped for, I think that’s a reasonable date to aim for.

“That would be just great — but again, there’s no rush, we want it done right!”

After more conversation fueled by delicious eats, we bade our adieus with hugs all around.

I left feeling on Cloud Nine! and drove home with my head in the clouds.

The next day I ordered a new camera.


This is part two of a several part series:

the very large triptych, part one


Artist Dawn Chandler in her home in Santa Fe, New Mexico.

Thanks for finding your way here and for reading my musings. If you think others might appreciate them, feel free to share this post. If you’d like to read more of my musings please consider subscribing to this, my blog.

Meanwhile, find more of my stories, insights and art here on my website www.taosdawn.com. Shop my art via my Etsy shop. And please consider joining me for TuesdayDawnings, my weekly deep breath of uplift, insight, contemplation & creativity. Find other ways to keep tabs on me via my connect page.

Stay safe. Be kind. Notice what you notice.

~ Dawn Chandler
Painting, writing, photographing, hiking, noticing and breathing deeply in Santa Fe, New Mexico.

Free from social media since 2020

the very large triptych, part 1

This week I bade farewell to three close companions — three roommates. We’ve been living in close quarters since last summer. My roommates have been exciting company but they have also taken up a great deal of space mentally and physically. Indeed, they forced me to completely rearrange my home, and they’ve consumed my focus and artistic energy for months.

My three roommates?

Three giant canvases.

the very large triptych - artist Dawn Chandler's huge triptych landscape painting wrapped up for transport to their new owners' home in Las Campanas, Santa Fe, New Mexico.

How these roommates came into my life is a journey that began in late November 2022. That’s when an art consultant found me online. He had a client from Texas — a newly married couple [I’ll call them “RAS”] — who had just bought a house in Las Campanas, a neighborhood of grand views and equally grand dwellings. RAS tasked The Art Consultant [“TAC”] with finding an artist to paint a large horizontal triptych (three-paneled painting) landscape of the view from their new house. TAC discovered me when doing a Google search for “New Mexico plein air painters.” He wrote to ask: Do you do commissions for private collectors?

It’s rare for me to accept commission work anymore, mainly because the requests don’t usually interest me. Even more than that though, I’d just rather focus on my own work. Yet this request was intriguing. That they wanted a triptych was unusual. And the scale of it — 24″ x 36″ — per panel was a bit intimidating, which made it kind of exciting.
I responded with interest. TAC said he’d get back to me in a few weeks, once he’d had a chance to meet with RAS at their place and discuss the project in more detail. He’d then get photos of the view, as well as the living room wall where the triptych would hang.

Then one evening a couple weeks later, for some reason I broke my rule of not checking email before bed. It was about 10:00pm when saw that I had a message from TAC: “Good news… you were selected for the triptych commission…. We had it narrowed down to you and one other artist going into our meeting. I hope you are looking forward to a large work, as they will want 3 48×60 canvases for this piece.

48″ x 60″?

EACH?!

HOLY SHIT!

That’s larger than anything I’ve ever done! FIFTEEN FEET LONG! How the F*** am I going to fit that in my studio?!
I sprang out of my chair and into my studio. My heart pounding, my eyes bulging, I grabbed a tape measure and started taking measurements. Only one wall could possibly accommodate a triptych of that scale. I’d need to move a ton of stuff, and block out a window and door to make it work.

UGH. That would be a SUCH a pain-in-the-ass.

Dawn Chandler's Santa Fe art Studio - wondering if there's room for the very large triptych canvases.

Could I do it? Could I paint such a huge painting? Do I even want to?


YES!
YOU HAVE TO! THIS IS THE UNIVERSE CHALLENGING YOU!

Surely somehow, someway I’d find a way!

Meanwhile, I wouldn’t be getting to sleep any time soon.


This is part two of a several part series:

the very large triptych, part two


Artist Dawn Chandler in her home in Santa Fe, New Mexico.

Thanks for finding your way here and for reading my musings. If you think others might appreciate them, feel free to share this post. If you’d like to read more of my musings please consider subscribing to this, my blog.

Meanwhile, find more of my stories, insights and art here on my website www.taosdawn.com. Shop my art via my Etsy shop. And please consider joining me for TuesdayDawnings, my weekly deep breath of uplift, insight, contemplation & creativity. Find other ways to keep tabs on me via my connect page.

Stay safe. Be kind. Notice what you notice.

~ Dawn Chandler
Painting, writing, photographing, hiking, noticing and breathing deeply in Santa Fe, New Mexico.

Free from social media since 2020

the BOOM! and enchantments of boring painting

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the idea of boring and being bored. One definition of boring I came across described it as “the state of feeling weary because one is unoccupied.” [OED]

That kind of weariness is something I’ve rarely experienced in my adulthood. Always there’s something on which to focus my eyes or my mind; something to look at [notice], something to contemplate, something to compose, something to hum. Even just sitting in stillness, without actively thinking about anything, rarely is boring for me. I tend to think people who complain a lot of “being bored” simply lack imagination.

Wilson, artist Dawn Chandler's late great studio mascot and sentry letting out a huge yawn as she impatiently waits for Dawn to finish her plein air painting. Photo by Dawn Chandler.

Yet one area where I do experience something akin to boredom is with painting. Not the act of painting, but boredom in the outcome of painting. I’ll be working away just fine on a painting thinking, even, that it may be close to completion, when a little voice inside me whispers This painting is boring.

That’s what happened recently when I was nearly finished with a traditional landscape painting of a scene at the Bosque. The painting was pretty. Early on I’d painted several of the clouds “just right,” and had painted the rest of the scene carefully around them. I touched up a few more details and, just before signing it, stepped back to admire my work. The painting was complete, but… it seemed too careful. Nothing about it excited me; nothing drew me in and held me there.

That’s when I heard a quiet voice in my head:
This painting is boring.

Uh-oh. When that voice speaks, I know to listen. Always it speaks up to tell me I need to do something bold, something daring.

Left: c.2016, Wilson, my late great studio mascot and sentry, letting out a huge yawn to let me know she’s bored with having to wait for me to finish my plein air painting.

I had a tingly feeling … and then that voice again:

Kill it

I loaded up a palette knife and smeared yellow ocher across the sky.

BOOM!

I laughed out loud.

I plunged my palette knife into more colors, smearing them across the original landscape. Soon most of the original landscape was covered over. I turned the painting on its side, then took a cloth and wiped away some color, then turned it again. The quiet voice spoke again: Add a color you’ve never used. A friend had recently given me a huge box of her old oil paints, including many colors unknown to me. I closed my eyes, reached in the box and grabbed a random tube. It was a green I’d never consider adding to this painting. Yet there was that tingly feeling and that voice again: Do it!

BOOM!
Just what the painting needed.

That little inner voice — that voice of daring and imagination — had transformed my “boring” painting into something unexpected and exciting. It had urged me to leap from the safe into the unknown. To dwell in possibility.

Detail of artist Dawn Chandler's semi-abstract New Mexico landscape painting, New Mexico Enchantments, 01, oil on canvas.

The first time I remember hearing this inner voice when painting was as a young artist in my 20s. I was working on a giant canvas, nearly twice as tall as me. It wasn’t boredom that summoned the voice, rather preciousness. There was an area in the painting that I just loved, so I was pussy-footing around it, being careful not to ruin it. Which meant I was being too cautious. That’s when the little voice spoke up: You need to let that go — it’s holding you back. Destroy it.

Stephen King put it well in his advice to writers: “Kill your darlings, kill your darlings, even when it breaks your egocentric little scribbler’s heart, kill your darlings.”

It’s scary to do this. Because of course the fear is that by destroying what you love, you’re going to ruin the whole thing. But in my experience that rarely, if ever, happens. Always when that voice arises urging me to “kill my darlings,” what emerges from the flames turns out to be far better than what had been.

Rick Rubin, in his book The Creative Act (essential reading for any creative) speaks brilliantly of this:

There are times during the Craft phase when you hit a wall and the work isn’t getting any better. Before stepping away from the piece, it’s worth finding a way to break the sameness and refresh your excitement in the work, as if engaging with it for the first time.


“If we’re paying attention, we may notice that some of our most interesting artistic choices come about by accident. Springing from moments of communion with the work, when the self disappears. Sometimes they feel like mistakes.
These mistakes are the subconscious engaged in problem-solving. They’re a kind of creative Freudian slip, where a deeper part of you overrides your conscious intention and offers an elegant solution. When asked how it happened, you may say that you don’t know. It just came through you in the moment.
In time, we grow accustomed to experiencing moments that are difficult to explain. Moments where you give the art exactly what it needs, without intending to, where a solution seems as if it appeared without your intervention at all.
In time, we learn to count on the hand of the unknown.
For some artists, being surprised is a rare experience. But it’s possible to cultivate this gift through invitation.

One way is through letting go of control. Release all expectations about what the work will be. Approach the process with humility and the unexpected will visit more often. Many of us are taught to create through sheer will. If we choose surrender, the ideas that want to come through us will not be blocked.
It’s similar to writing a book by following a detailed outline. Set aside the outline, write with no map, and see what happens. The premise you start with could develop into something more. Something you couldn’t have planned and would never have arisen if you were locked into following a particular script.
With your intention set, and the destination unknown, you are free to surrender your conscious mind, dive into the raging stream of creative energy, and watch the unexpected appear, again and again.
As each small surprise leads to another, you’ll soon find the biggest surprise:
You learn to trust yourself—in the universe, with the universe, as a unique channel to a higher wisdom.
This intelligence is beyond our understanding. Through grace, it is accessible to all.

~ Rick Rubin, The Creative Act

New Mexico Enchantments, 1 ~ oil on canvas ~ 24″ x 36″ ~ available on my Etsy shop

Going through my studio today, I find I have stacks and stacks of old paintings that now bore me. That quiet inner voice is stirring.

BOOM!


Thanks for finding your way here and for reading my musings. If you think others might appreciate them, feel free to share this post. If you’d like to read more of my musings please consider subscribing to this, my blog.

Meanwhile, find more of my stories, insights and art here on my website www.taosdawn.com. Shop my art via my Etsy shop. And please consider joining me for TuesdayDawnings, my weekly deep breath of uplift, insight, contemplation & creativity. Find other ways to keep tabs on me via my connect page.

Stay safe. Be kind. Notice what you notice.

~ Dawn Chandler
Painting, writing, photographing, hiking, noticing and breathing deeply in Santa Fe, New Mexico.

Free from social media since 2020

drawing: “no good, no bad, no judgement”

Below — pages from my 2023 sketchbook. I began this on a road trip last June to the Oregon coast. In years previous when we made that trip (the last being in 2017) I didn’t draw much, if at all. Rather, I was still on [READ: addicted to] social media, so I spent more time looking at my phone than looking out the window. And when I was looking out the window, I was hardly present, for the phone kept pulling at me. I’d put it down then a few minutes later pick it up again. On and on for 3000 miles — there and back again.

A page from artist Dawn Chandler's 2023 sketchbook filled with small drawings of a road trip from New Mexico to Oregon.

This trip was entirely different. I wasn’t distracted. I was present, yet also pleasantly engaged in applying pen to paper.

A page from artist Dawn Chandler's 2023 sketchbook filled with small drawings of a road trip from New Mexico to Oregon.

There’s something about the act of drawing that quiets one part of my brain yet opens up another. Though my eyes and hand are engaged in noticing, there’s space for conversation, for listening. Plus it’s just really calming. Kind of like knitting is.

A page from artist Dawn Chandler's 2023 sketchbook filled with small drawings of the Oregon landscape.

This reminds me when few years ago a friend of mine was under a lot of stress. He had a tremendous amount of responsibility in his job, which required him to live away from his family for much of the year. Even in his “off” time, his mind was preoccupied with work.

A page from artist Dawn Chandler's 2023 sketchbook filled with small drawings of the Oregon landscape.

Then, one day while attending a business conference, a presenter handed out notepads and pencils and had everyone draw. I don’t remember the exercise they did, or the presenter’s goal (though I can guess), but the act of drawing opened up something in my friend, and likely the other participants as well. Later that day, as my friend took a break outside, he pulled out his notepad and pen and began to draw. This is someone who, by his own assessment, had “zero artistic ability,” and hadn’t drawn since elementary school some 30 years previous. Yet here he was in his stiff business attire, completely transfixed by the act of drawing. His stress, he told me later, seemed to melt away as he focused on drawing. He didn’t care if the drawing was “good” or “bad,” he simply enjoyed how the act of drawing made him feel. Indeed, it made him feel so good that he just wanted to keep drawing — and he did. For a while, at least.

A page from artist Dawn Chandler's 2023 sketchbook filled with small drawings from a road trip across the west.


Eventually his job moved him away and we lost touch. I don’t know if he still draws. I hope so. I hope he’s filled pages and pages with little doodles and observations. For if he has, then chances are good that he’s also released a whole lot of stress in those pages. And found some presence as well. Plus he’d have a sweet little diary of drawings to reflect back upon.

A page from artist Dawn Chandler's 2023 sketchbook filled with small, random drawings of things around her Santa Fe home.

I love what Natalie Goldberg has to say about drawing:


But let’s get back to this feeling that you can’t draw. Don’t pay attention to your feeling. It’s giving you the wrong information. Pick up a pen or a pencil — nothing fancy — and an ordinary piece of paper, even a sheet from your printer, and draw what’s in front of you.
Go ahead. The coffee in the cup with steam coming up at you, the spoon, the saucer. Draw the raisins, the blueberries, in your muffin.
Color them in with your pen. Sketch the edge of the table, the napkin.

A page from artist Dawn Chandler's 2023 sketchbook filled with small, random drawings of things scenes around her Santa Fe home.

As you draw you might hear your mind thinking. Maybe you wish you had a cupcake, piled high with icing and jelly beans? Go ahead, draw that on the other side of the coffee cup. No one says you have to absolutely stay with the concrete — you get to capture your desires a little, too. Let’s be honest: The cup you drew isn’t a perfect circle anyway. Thank the heavens it’s a bit lopsided. It has character. This isn’t photography. And you’ve probably heard the rule: No erasing, no tearing up the paper. Accept the way it comes out. If you practice this acceptance, more will come out. Space and freedom will open up. You won’t edit and crimp yourself even before you begin to explore.

A page from artist Dawn Chandler's 2023 sketchbook filled with small, drawings from her hikes near her home in Santa Fe, New Mexico

Let’s do another. Turn your head to the left. A lamp, a clock, a box of tissues on a wood table. Go ahead, draw them. I bet you’ll have fun sketching the numbers on the clock. Can’t fit all twelve? So what, don’t worry about it. We already know a proper clock. This one is yours. Give no thought about it being perfect. This practice is not only enjoyable, it can also calm the mind by meeting what’s in front of you with no interference. No good or bad, no judgment, no editor.


~ Natalie Goldberg, Living Color: Painting, Writing, and the Bones of Seeing

A page from artist Dawn Chandler's 2023 sketchbook filled with small, random drawings from her travels.

The way I began these drawings was first to sketch a random rectangle on the page. Then I’d look out the window and wait for something to catch my eye. When something spoke to me, I’d draw it in the rectangle.

Filling a page with several little drawings is less daunting and time-consuming than filling the page with one large drawing. Kind of like writing a haiku rather than a several-stanza poem. (Though of course one can labor over a haiku for ages trying to get it ‘just right’). These little drawings aren’t about perfection. They’re about noticing and noting the world around me in a quick little sketch. Plus a bunch of little drawings is just kind of delightful (there’s that word again).

A page from artist Dawn Chandler's 2023 sketchbook filled with small, random drawings from her travels in New Mexico.

I go through phases with drawing. Some years I fill several sketchbooks; other years maybe only one. But I always — always — carry a notebook and pen with me. And just in case I ever find I’ve left home without my notebook, I keep a little “emergency” one in the car:

A page from artist Dawn Chandler's 2024 car sketchbook with New Mexico landscape sketches.

The thought of being without paper and pen to draw and write with is unbearable.

The search for the ideal notebook is a lifelong quest. My ideal notebook is small enough to fit into a small handbag, but large enough so there’s enough space on the page to write and draw freely without feeling cramped. Unruled is essential. Bonus points for an inner cover pocket, a cloth ribbon bookmark, and an attached elastic band for keeping it closed.

A page from artist Dawn Chandler's 2023 sketchbook filled with small, random drawings from a house-sitting stay in Miami, New Mexico.

Thinking I might want to do some watercolors in addition to drawing and journaling, for my 2023 notebook I chose the 5-½”x 8-½” Strathmore Hardbound 400 Art Journal.This has heavy, textured paper, perfectly suited for watercolors. In fact it’s the best watercolor notebook I’ve found; the page takes watercolor beautifully. However I ended up doing hardly any watercolors in this notebook, so the rigid pages and texture were a bit wasted on my scratches and scribbles.

A page from artist Dawn Chandler's 2023 sketchbook filled with small, random drawings from a house-sitting stay in Miami, New Mexico.

Other past favorites include the 6” x 9” Bee Paper Super Deluxe Mixed Media Sketchbook. The paper has a slight tooth (texture) and is a fairly sturdy medium weight — not too heavy, not too thin, and takes pen well and watercolor okay. The main downside is that the spiral binding is bulky, which is why, after several years, I eventually found something else.
The 8-¼” x 5-½” Hand Book Journal, is another good notebook with all the bonuses I love (bookmark, elastic, inner pocket). The paper is similar to the Bee Paper sketchbook, and it’s cool that they come in different sizes and colors. (My car sketchbook is a small one.)

A page from artist Dawn Chandler's 2023 sketchbook filled with small, random drawings of New Mexico landscapes.
A page from artist Dawn Chandler's 2023 sketchbook filled with small, random drawings of New Mexico landscapes.

And yet….( ~ blissful sigh ~ )… Moleskine perpetually entices me. A couple of decades ago Moleskine literally wrote the book — or rather made the book — on how to create a dream of a useful notebook, and was the first to include all the brilliant bonuses mentioned above. The most frustrating thing about Moleskine is simply deciding on which one, for the choices are countless and too often I’ve been like a child in a French pastry shop, standing in front of the display salivating. All the more reason I’m thrilled to find one that suits my needs so well. My current love affair is with the 4.5” x 6.9” Classic Hardcover Plain Notebook [CHPB] I like it so much that after a few pages into my first, I ordered four more (the CHPB is hard to find locally; in a town of creatives, I must not be the only fan). The paper is much thinner than what I’ve sought in the past — so not at all good for watercolor, but it’s fine for collage, which I’ve been doing more of lately anyway. (I’ve decided to keep a separate book with my watercolors, since I don’t do them that often). What I really love about the CHPB is the compact size, smoothness of the paper and how my pen glides across the page, whether writing or drawing — as I rediscovered just the other day:

Years ago I used to beat myself up for not drawing every day. “Real artists draw every day,” I’d think. Yeah, well that’s bullshit. But the truth is that whenever I do draw, I feel wonderful. Literally wonder-FULL. And calm. And creative. Keeping a little sketchbook and pen with me at all times invites the opportunity to draw. And to put down the damn phone.


Don’t draw because the world needs another drawing (it doesn’t). Don’t draw because it’s the most efficient (it’s not).

Draw because it connects your hand and your eye. Draw because it’s a way of engaging with the visual world. Draw because it fosters an intimacy with what you see — with your eyes and in your mind. Draw because it’s an extraordinary form of communication.

It’s not about line and tone and skill and beauty … as much as it is about you seeing more deeply and more clearly.

~ Steven St. Amant


Santa Fe artist Dawn Chandler catching the morning light at Galisteo Basin Preserve outside of Santa Fe, New Mexico.

Thanks for finding your way here and for reading my musings. If you think others might appreciate them, feel free to share this post. And if you’d like to read more of my musings please consider subscribing to this, my blog.

Meanwhile, find more of my stories, insights and art here on my website www.taosdawn.com. Shop my art via my Etsy shop. And please consider joining me for TuesdayDawnings, my weekly deep breath of uplift, insight, contemplation & creativity. Find other ways to keep tabs on me via my connect page.

Stay safe. Be kind. Notice what you notice.

~ Dawn Chandler
Santa Fe, New Mexico

Free from social media since 2020