musings from the studio and beyond ~
dawn chandler’s reflections on art and life. . . .
06.14.2012 ~ santa fe cicadas
They arrived a few weeks ago, burrowing out of their decade-long home in the earth so as to scale the nearest evergreen and glue themselves to the windy limbs. There, in sunlight and moonlight, they break free of their armor and emerge winged, filling the sky with their song.
At 7:30 each morning is when they break into song at my house. That’s when the sun fully peaks over the eastern mesas and begins to build momentum across the morning.
Imagine the sound of a casting fly reel. Now multiply that sound by the thousands, and that’s what it sounds like around here when the sun is out.
In the evening — when the sun is low — the cicada song becomes a clicking sound. [Really, the poets need to find a descriptor other than “castanets” to describe the sound of that clicking. But for now it’s the best my limited poetic mind can muster.]
I guess it’s not really a “song” we’re hearing, since these sounds don’t come from the mouth of these creatures, but rather from the abdomen. At least that’s what the Wiki tells me. Well, whether it’s a vocal song or a belly song makes no difference to me; I remain fully entranced.
Not only entranced, but incredulous that these little guys have crawled out of this hard-packed earth from depths as deep as 8 feet. How do they do it?! And to think that when they went into the ground as little grubs some 10 – 17 years ago, my house wasn’t even here!
There’s rich mythology around cicadas, and I can understand why: Their life underground as a grub is epically long, while their post-moulting life in the trees and sky is all too short (just a few weeks). Is it any wonder that they’ve come to symbolize reincarnation and insouciance in some cultures? I like that symbolism. They all will die in a few weeks, but I have a feeling they’re going to be returning again soon, in my studio.
06.06.2012 ~ autumn on the edge of baldy
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| autumn on the edge of baldy ~ by dawn chandler ~ oil and mixed media on panel ~ 12 x 24 inches ~ copyright dawn chandler 2012 |
Autumn on the edge….. Okay, so in early June perhaps no one is thinking of Autumn. But when I came across a photo of the Sangre de Cristos from the edge of Philmont’s Baldy Mountain, something pulled me in.
This just may be my favorite of these new panoramic paintings. I’m not sure why….but something about it feels bolder than the others. Really, the composition is simpler — there’s really not a whole lot going on. But that sharp diagonal thrust from upper right to lower left adds dynamism. Break it down to it’s barest elements, and the simplicity of the composition becomes almost abstract. The palette, too, is minimal — yet contrasting, further energizing and emboldening the scene.
A few close ups:
Like the others, this one started with a rough under-painting followed by a layer of scribing (below). Look carefully under the gold paint (above, lower left) and you can just barely make out some of my writing.
05.30.2012 ~ approaching la veta, colorado
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| approaching la veta, colorado ~ by dawn chandler ~ oil on panel ~ 12 x 24 inches ~ copyright dawn chandler 2012 |
You know how it is: Over the years you make dozens of road trips to the big city, and every time you pass a curious looking exit and think, “I should go explore that some time….” And next thing you know years pass and you still haven’t taken the turn to go explore that exit.
La Veta, Colorado is one of those “exits.” I can’t tell you how many times I cruised along I-25 or County Road 160 on my way from Taos to Denver and considered taking a detour, but never did.
Fortunately my hand was forced on the issue a couple of years ago, when I was invited by a friend to exhibit some of my paintings in her yoga studio — smack in the heart of downtown La Veta, Colorado.
What a beautiful and charming little community!! All of about 7 blocks long, with tall shade trees and a lovely little park. I was smitten instantly. And the drive down on County Road 440….Well, it’s pretty glorious with the whole Cuchara Valley opening up before you.
After hanging my artwork and having lunch in one of the cool little eateries, I headed back for home, but kept pulling over to take photographs. The view was simply stunning.
Here’s my attempt at capturing it in paint. Not a bad first attempt, though I find some areas problematic. The clouds feel a bit dense rather than light and airy. And I think perhaps I should have lightened up the distant line of mountains; that’s kind of a hard edge on the Spanish Peaks there to the left, especially. But dang it! That’s how it looked. Still, here’s a perfect example of where the painting might have succeeded more if I had abandoned a literal interpretation of the photo and instead went with what with my gut was telling me to do for the painting: “lighten up those distant edges.” Oh well… There’s always the next time….
A few details:
05.16.2012 ~ cimarron morning ~ back of tooth ridge
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| cimarron morning ~ back of tooth ridge (philmont) ~ by dawn chandler ~ oil and mixed media on panel ~ copyright dawn chandler 2012 |
The view from my friend Ed’s place in the northwest outskirts of Cimarron, New Mexico….One of those post-deluge kinds of mornings, when the warming of rain-soaked earth rises in a haze across the mountains. [To get a sense of the menace that battered these mountains the night before, scroll down or click here to see my previous painting.]
That main ridge line is Tooth Ridge with the Tooth of Time itself hunkered down in the upper right. We’re seeing just the tip of the ‘tooth, so to speak — the back side; the south side of it is a massive sheer face of rock.
I finished this painting….and then decided that Tooth Ridge was too dark. It looked okay, but didn’t capture the hazy atmosphere of that warm, evaporating morning. So to fade the mountains and push them and the distant horizon back a bit more, I skimmed that area of the painting with a translucent creamy white glaze. It worked.
Whether consciously or not, when seeking landscapes to paint, I usually crop out the presence of “civilization.” Call me a Romantic, but I like to image the land and Nature uncluttered by us reckless humans.
Here though I made an exception and left in the Cimarron water towers. I rather like the splash of blue they add. Their presence provides not only further specificity to this view, but also “ground” the foreground with more visual interest; a place to settle the eye for a moment after traveling the long lines of mountain and mesa ridges.
Some details:
05.09.2012 ~ rayado summer storm
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| rayado summer storm ~ oil and mixed media on panel ~ by dawn chandler ~ copyright dawn chandler 2012 |
If pressed, I would say the canyon’s features are best accentuated in setting sunlight rather than that of morning. For it’s in the late light of day when the sign of the buffalo — the southern silhouette of Fowler Mesa — is most clear and recognizable.
On this summer evening captured in my painting, the buffalo’s silhouette is obscured by a heavy bank of clouds. That patch of distant coral sky seems so innocent, belying the brute force of the storm that is about to pummel my car with marble hail. (I recall spreading a blanket on my windshield during that storm, for fear of the glass breaking.) The light on the foreground is that eery just-before-deluge kind of color, when the hues and scents of the land are keyed up and your own senses are heightened.
Some painting details:
This painting, as with the others in the series, started with a loose umber under-painting and scribing, though it’s hidden to the casual observer:
