Taos Dawn

12.24.2011 ~ she is sensitive to the cold

2011-12-24T08:00:00.000-07:00

elle est sensible ~ au froid

— mixed media on panel ~ 16 x 8 inches

~ copyright dawn chandler 2011

from my New Year card...

Winter 2011/12

On this cold and snowy winter’s night, I find myself thinking of my father....
He had an insatiable passion for knowledge. His whole life he devoted to, among other things, the pursuit of intellectual enrichment. My uncle — my father’s brother-in-law — said of my father, “he was the most interesting person I ever knew. He knew something about everything.” Indeed, rather than a ‘jack of all trades and master of none’ my father seemed to be a master of just about everything he had an interest in — and that was a lot. One need only peruse the vast libraries of books lining the walls of our home for evidence of my father’s rich and varied interests.
   Coupled with his passionate intellectual rigor, my father possessed an unequaled joi de vivre, embracing life with all the energy and enthusiasm he could muster. Walking quickly, muttering to himself snippets of something or another that he was trying to memorize, not a moment could be wasted in his pursuit of knowledge. His “golden years” he welcomed as an opportunity to learn and do yet more. Little wonder then that upon his retirement from pathology at the age of 70, he dedicated much of his attention to learning French. Not a room in his apartment was without identification labels taped to everything: un tire-bouchon
(a cork-screw), les ciseaux (the scissors), la lampe (the lamp). He insisted on wearing shirts with two breast pockets, so that throughout the day as he went through his latest French flashcards, he could easily divide the cards between the two pockets: on his right, the words and phrases he got correct; on the left, those yet to learn.
   My father died this year, and the ache in my heart left by his death echoes with an emptiness and longing that I can hardly describe.

   In early February, when I went to clean out my father’s apartment, despite the staggering sadness of the work, I made many happy discoveries. Among them his hundreds of French flash cards, his unique handwriting scrawled bilingually on either side. Invariably written with a very fine tipped blue ballpoint pen, what these small notes reveal is not just a passion for his favorite of the Romance languages, but little gems of his personality, including his signature delightful naughtiness and good humor:

Il m’est pénible d’avoir à vous dire que le vin est fini.   ~   It is painful to me to have to tell you that the wine is finished.

Les chiens de Paris font leaurs ordures sur le trottoir.   ~   The dogs of Paris leave [make] turds on the sidewalk.

Sa beauté ainsi que sa candeur m’a frappé.   ~   Her beauty as well as her innocense struck me.

J’ai un engoutment pour le chocolat.   ~   I have an infatuation for chocolate.

Je me suis ému parce poème.   ~   I was very moved by that poem.

C’était amusant de marcher dans les flaques d’eau.   ~   It was fun to walk in the puddles.

La femme est bien jambée.   ~   The woman has nice legs.

Le pet malodorant était un action malotru. ~   The malodorous fart was a vulgar action.

Quoiqu’il soit vieux, il a agilité d’un jeune homme.   ~   Although he is old, he has the agility of a young man.

My father’s flashcards now sit in an open box in my studio.
When I created the recent painting pictured here on my New Year card, the painting seemed to evolve on its own. But once finished, I couldn’t think of a title for it. I debated several, but they were unsatisfactory. For weeks I sought a name.

Then one day, I chanced to pick up one of my father’s flashcards:

elle est sensible au froid ~ she is sensitive to the cold.

Eh, Voilà! I found my title!

If you look very carefully, you’ll find these very words written in my father’s handwriting near the top of the painting.

Thus begins a new artistic collaboration between my father and me.
I’m delighted by the concept!
I hope he would be, too.

If you’re curious to see more of our collaborations, you’re welcome to
keep tabs here on my blog or here, on my website.

There’s just three of our collaborations completed just yet.
But there will be more.
Many more.

Oh, and my sainted mother? Her spirit’s joining in on the collaboration, too:
That star in the painting is a pendant of hers.

Joy to you in the New Year! May we all live life as fully and with as much joi de vivre as did my Dad.

12.01.2011 ~ miranda autumn 01

2011-12-01T19:16:00.001-07:00

miranda autumn ~ 2011 daily painting 09 ~ 6" x 6" oil on panel ~ copyright dawn chandler 2011

The scene: Based on a photo taken after a cold and windy autumn ascent of Baldy c. 2009. Here we're skirting the south edge of the meadow, walking down, away from the cabin.

-----------------------------------------------

The first day of December and I'm thrilled to be back at work again in my studio. Hard to believe it but I haven't actually painted in a couple of months (!!!)
And having spent most of this year's studio time focused on mixed media painting, I'm eager to focus on landscape again, at least for a few weeks. I have some ideas brewing for a new series that will combine mixed media with landscape elements, but while I'm working out some of those ideas in my head and sketchbook, I want to use my painting time to bone up on "traditional" landscapes in oil. If nothing else, I want to use up some of the already stretched canvases laying about in my studio.

So the other day I assessed my inventory of oil paint and brushes, found large gaps in my stock, made a list of all that I need (how the heck could I be out of Cobalt Blue? ....Or Veridian....Or Burnt Umber?...Or Pthalo Blue? ....Or...or...6-inch square panels for that matter?!), and set about painting anyway, despite the gaping holes in my supplies.

The sigh of delight in painting again was audible (I think my neighbors all looked up as my whole being exclaimed "HOORAY!!")

Things were off to a great start and this little painting (on the last 6 x 6 panel I could find kicking around my studio) was coming along just fine, but then after a few minutes I noticed I was starting to get too caught up in details. ARGH! I've written about this before, so you long-timers here know how I hate that. When I get caught up in details, the painting starts to look over-wrought and too uptight. What I love is when I can loosen up and let the paint do its thing without over-working it; when the paint suggests something accurately — maybe even with a little bit of ambiguity or abstraction — rather than spelling out every last detail, THAT'S what I love!

A painter who does this beautifully is S.P. Goodman. His paintings simply dazzle me. His sense of color and light combined with is handling of the paint is masterful. There's an economy to his use of paint and a confidence to his brushwork that I envy. Check out his work on his blog: http://spgoodman.blogspot.com. And look at that painting "The Causeway" from November 16th. Is that stunning or what? He provides just enough information to give you the perfect sense of time and space, but no more.
Absolutely breathtaking.

So with my painting above, when I found myself with a very small brush in hand trying to carve out details and the painting already looking over-worked, I took a look at Mr. Goodman's paintings. "Ah, YES!" I grabbed a rag and a much larger brush and smeared and smudged and some paint around.
Voila! Much, much better!

11.19.2011 ~ o'keeffe's haunting

2011-11-19T06:23:00.001-07:00

Georgia O'Keeffe, Jack in the Pulpit, IV, oil on canvas

Whether I want her to or not, Georgia keeps following me. Or maybe she's being sneaky and is secretly leading me. But she keeps cropping up.

Of course, it's kind of hard to live in Santa Fe and *not* be reminded of the woman from time to time — this *is* referred to as "O'Keeffe Country" after all. But still. You'd think I'd be able to escape her reign when traveling overseas, at least. Wouldn't you know it but one of the big art exhibits going on at the Museo della Fondazione Roma this autumn is that of Georgia O'Keeffe — her first major retrospective in Italy; the show opened while I was there.

Great.

Years ago I went to a colossal retrospective of O'Keeffe's work back in New York. Room after room after room of her work.
Later, I visited the Georgia O'Keeffe Museum here in Santa Fe shortly after it opened. With a dismissive east coast I-grew-up-in-the-Met sniff, I deemed the museum unimpressive, so paltry was its collection compared to the grand and sophisticated display I'd seen on 5th Avenue.

Around that time O'Keeffe's poppies adorned a US postage stamp. And of course for a long time her paintings were featured on posters, especially those for the Santa Fe Chamber Music Festival, which seemed to be everywhere in New Mexico.

Some time in there I read a biography on O'Keeffe and came away with the nagging feeling that she was...... kind of.....a bitch. Ouch. Disappointing.

All this jaded me on O'Keeffe. I had O'keeffe overload -- like she was someone whom I'd admired, and then we became FaceBook friends, and now I was getting too much information about her.

So when I arrived in Rome only to learn that Georgia was there, too, I felt a little bit miffed. "Jeez..REALLY? Of ALL the artists who could possibly be having a show in Rome while I'm here, does it have to be Georgia O'Keeffe?! Can' it be an artist who isn't from Santa Fe?!"

When my friend with whom I was staying expressed an interest in going to the show, I was less than enthusiastic about accompanying her.

But then...two weeks in and a couple of days before I was to leave Rome, I warmed up to the idea of seeing the O'Keeffe show. Hell, after two weeks of studying art spanning just about every century except the last one, I was ready to view something a little more contemporary. And I was starting, too, to look forward to returning home to the Southwest and getting busy in my studio. The idea of looking at paintings from my part of the New World in an old museum in the heart of the Old World was having increasing appeal.

Still, little did I imagine what a treat I was in for.

If there's one thing the Italians do right (and actually I can think of quite a few things they do right...), it's put on an art exhibition.

Through stage props, signage, photos and music, the Museum attempted — rather charmingly — to conjure a sense of the feel of New York City, the Adirondacks, and New Mexico — three of the most significant environments of O'Keeffe's long life. And they did a pretty good job of theatrically transporting you from the heart of Rome to America. (Indeed, were it not for the consistently beautiful, model-like gallery attendants dressed in black Gucci and Prada and their sensual Italian accents, I might very well have been convinced that I WAS in the US.)

Photographs of O'Keeffe — always in black and white — perrenially cause me to pause. So elegant and beautiful was she through all the stages of her life.... Even more than that though, when studying the photos of this exhibit and the look in her eyes and contours of her hands, I sensed a connection; a recognition: "we are similar in a lot of ways, you and I."

But it was the artwork itself, of course, which charmed the most. I was tickled to rediscover some real gems — her quick sketch of looking out a tent door (graphite), and simple but weighty nude studies of herself (watercolor)...her portraits of fruit (especially the 'alligator pear," otherwise known as an avocado).

I especially appreciated being reminded of the fact that O'Keeffe danced back and forth throughout her career between painting representationally and painting abstractly — something I also do (in my case the dance is between traditional oil landscape painting and more abstracted mixed media paintings).

Her abstractions based on Lake George, with their deep damp greens and blues swirling and curling within each other, particularly dazzled. One in particular had almost whimsical pops of color, like sparks. Back at the apartment later that evening, I attempted to capture a sense of it in my sketchbook (though I was limited to black and white):

untitled sketch, copyright Dawn Chandler 2011

The last few rooms of the exhibit were, like her life, dedicated to New Mexico. The museum had attempted to recreate adobe walls and a feel for the desert, and I'd say they did a fair job of it. I was tickled to see a recreation of her studio — envious of the long white tables and vast wall space of her sanctuary — and fascinated to see some of her actual belongings.

O'Keeffe's paintings of bones floating over landscapes never did much for me, nor did they now. But I was charmed to discover her paintings of cottonwood trees; I hadn't remembered seeing these before. Trees are a potent theme of mine, and I'd had another experience in Rome (will write about later) that had me musing about trees with renewed interest. O'keeffe's trees with their wispy feather-like branches of gold pulled me in and made me want to get home to Santa Fe and walk under the cottonwood trees myself.

Georgia O'Keeffe, Winter Cottonwoods, oil on canvas

I have now done so — returned home to Santa Fe to walk under the cottonwoods.

And O'Keeffe is back here, too, beguiling me. I started thinking about this post on Tuesday — the 15th of November, which, as it turns out, is O'Keeffe's birthday.

A couple days later I learned that I have been invited to participate in "Odes and Offerings" — an art exhibit at the Santa Fe Community gallery opening in March, 2012. The show is to feature collaborations between visual artists and poets. I have been sent two poems by Barbara Rockman, and will "select lines, phrases, stanzas, or even the an entire poem to use as text integral to [my] work."

The name of one of the poems?

"Letter from Georgia O'Keeffe To Alfred Steiglitz Upon Seeing His Photograph of Her Hands."

11.14.2011 ~ all roads lead to Rome...and back again.

2011-11-14T07:39:00.001-07:00

Back from a trip to Italy, and I am revived, invigorated and inspired.

Photo by Dawn Chandler copyright 20

Thanks to the graciousness of a dear friend, I was able to stay for a full two weeks in five-star accommodations in the heart of historic Rome. A block from Piazza Navonna, just a few blocks further from the Pantheon, and a 20-minute stroll from Michaelangelo's Pieta, Sistine Chapel and all the glory and wealth of the Vatican museums, I had some of the most stunning artistic achievements of all humanity at my figure tips.

Daily I strode the stone and storied labyrinth of the Eternal City, delighting in the passageways and towering archways of those ancient, narrow streets. Cappuccini and cobblestones and Chianti defined my days.

Primary among my goals this trip was to photograph the vast offerings of sculpture and architectural details — a visual oasis free to anyone who merely opens their eyes along the streets of Rome. And photograph sculpture and architectural details I did. Eleven-hundred photographs later, I've a stock pile of fodder for future mixed media paintings and collages. I am brimming with imagination and anticipation of the ways these photographs and explorations will translate into my artwork in the coming months.

Readers, have you been to Rome? Where are your favorite places?

10.24.2011 ~ mazes & labyrinths

2011-10-24T10:07:00.001-06:00

The labyrinth pattern of Chartres Cathedral, c. 1200 A.D.

Recently I had an extraordinary experience: I was invited by a friend to help her build a labyrinth.

If you're like me you think you know what a labyrinth is. Chances are though you're mistaken — as I was.
A labyrinth is not a maze.
A maze is designed to confound and confuse. There are many wrong turns and dead-ends, and you may not ever find your way to the sweet spot at the end. There's a certain urgency and anxiety and threat of doom associated with mazes.

The goal of a labyrinth, on the other-hand, is contemplation. Peacefulness. There is only one pathway — the long and circuitous path to the center. There are stops and turns, but if you stay on the path you will find your way to the sweet center.

My friend Karen (of Artful Tea fame, who has quite an interesting personal story) is constructing a labyrinth in her backyard. The pathway is a mosaic of shards — broken bits of porcelain, stoneware, crockery, china, blown glass, mirror — many of which have storied histories all their own. These shards are pressed more or less randomly into a base of cement. It's a long process creating a pathway of cement and glass, so Karen is inviting friends to help her along in the journey. I'm honored to have been invited to participate.

The first step of a new labyrinth mosaic artist is, of course, to walk the labyrinth design as is — partially completed, the rest sketched out in the earth — and get a feel for the journey.
It's an intriguing adventure following this path of earth and glass, contemplating the colored fragments catching the afternoon sun, and the story of those who selected and placed these certain jewels.

The second step is to get to work: Karen mixed the cement, while I, on hands and knees in the pebbled dirt, selected my palette of shards. When the cement was ready and poured, I set about swiftly placing my shards in the soft (but quickly firming) cement.

Each batch of cement was enough for a swath of path a little over a foot long; in the course of a couple hours we completed five or six swaths of pathway.

Since that sunny Saturday afternoon some weeks ago, I have found myself thinking about labyrinths....The beautiful symmetry of pattern, and the journey of the path therein.

I've been thinking too, about my own life's journey, and the path I'm on.

Lately Life has seemed more like a maze than a labyrinth — a maze of meaningless clutter. I'm not talking about the clutter of brick-a-brac that needs dusting in the house (I cleared out much of that a while ago), but rather the clutter of constant visual, mental and emotional stimulation. Of being "plugged in" 24/7, bombarded with never-ending updates and soundbites of cleverness, inanity, gags, information, "news".....everything.

My mind and soul just seem to be pleading for down time. For quietness. For contemplation. For thoughtful, meaningful, slow-time interaction with friends and, just as importantly, my own Self.

I'll be departing on a journey soon. In the grand scheme of things, it's not a particularly unusual or grand adventure. But it's one that promises much time for contemplation and inspiration of the creative mind and spirit.

The Maze, I'm hoping to leave behind me
and step instead onto the path of my life's Labyrinth.

10.11.2011 ~ returning to spring

2011-10-11T08:01:00.000-06:00

returning to spring

oil on panel 12 x 12 inches

I love this painting. It feels peaceful and juicy in the jewel-like intensity of the colors.

Here again, the foundation of this piece is a traditional landscape — though you'd be hard pressed to find any hint of Baldy Mountain from Wilson Mesa hidden under these abstract passages of brilliant color. About the only trace of its former life lies revealed in the bit of turquoise (sky) in the upper left.

There's a richness to the colors and texture of the paint surface here that could only be possible through the building up and scraping down of layers of paint. This is really the main reason I like to "recycle" old paintings and give them a new life: Because the surfaces and depth of color achievable from layering paint add depth, brilliance and visual interest, and these aspects really excite me.

Familiar elements — my visual language — appear here: suggested archways or passageways....soaring birds (which of late usually appear as a pair — my parents)....mysterious thoughts scratched into the surface of the paint...those three red punctuation points....

All in all, in my view a quietly joyful, forward-looking piece.

Returning to Sring is on view through October 21, 2011 at the Downey Gallery at 225 Canyon Road, Santa Fe.

10.10.11 ~ cutting a path through autumn

2011-10-10T06:09:00.001-06:00

cutting a path through autumn

oil on canvas 10 x 8 inches

copyright Dawn Chandler 2011

Sometimes I just crave color — big, bold, juicy color.

And sometimes I guess I just crave a little bit of rebellion.

This painting started as a traditional landscape painting — a scene of horses grazing in a meadow in the Valle Vidal, with a line of voluminous cottonwoods behind them. You can see the cool greens of the original scene — fragments of the foliage and meadow — emerging throughout. A lone horse remains, grazing near the bottom of the picture.

Obviously I wasn't too satisfied with the original landscape; the paint handling in the landscape felt cumbersome. The canvas kicked around my studio for a long while when finally it called to me in want of metamorphosis.

There's nothing quite so liberating and joyfully defiant as taking a loaded palette knife and making the decision to attack a painting that I've been laboring over. But there's also always a little bit of fear involved. The internal conversation in my head usually goes something like this:

"This painting sucks. I should just attack it."

"Wait — it doesn't suck *that* badly. Look at those nice passages through there."

"No, it sucks. I'd rather start the whole thing all over again. This one isn't going to get any better; it's already too labored."

"But if you attack it, you may really ruin it."

"Yeah well, I think that's a risk I'm willing to take. And more than likely It's going to transform into something I can't yet imagine, but that in the end I'm going to love."

"Or not."

"Yeah....maybe so....But so what? It's just paint!"

"You sure you want to do this? It really isn't that bad."

"It's too late: I've already thought to do it; now I have to. [heart beating a little faster] I need to let this one go!"

"You may be sorry."

"I don't care! I HAVE to do this! I'm going for it!"

And it's always the right decision.

Cutting a Path Through Autumn is on view through October 21, 2011 at the Downey Gallery at 225 Canyon Road, Santa Fe.

10.09.2011 ~ thank you

2011-10-09T20:16:00.002-06:00

Grateful to everyone who ventured out on a dark and stormy night Friday to come to my art show opening at the Downey Gallery. You are brave souls! I regret not keeping my camera handy during the party, but did get at least one pic of the gallery before the arrival of the water-logged masses.

Lovely to see my so many of my paintings displayed together on walls other than those of my studio. Even lovelier to see so many friends. Thank you all!

Recent Paintings by Dawn Chandler will be on display at the Downey Gallery at 225 Canyon Road, Santa Fe until 10/21/11.

09.29.2011 ~ not yet

2011-09-29T07:30:00.000-06:00

not yet

mixed media 13 x 9 inches

copyright Dawn Chandler 2011

Another one that I'll let speak for itself....

Below some details:

Not Yet will be on display at the Downey Gallery at 225 Canyon Road, Santa Fe. Join us for an opening reception Friday, October 7th from 5:00 - 7:00pm.

09.22.2011 ~ elle a le coeur sensible

2011-09-22T07:08:00.002-06:00

elle a le coeur sensible

8 x 8 inches mixed media on panel
copyright dawn chandler 2011

Scrawled at the bottom of this — in my father's handwriting — are the words, "Elle a le coeur sensible." She has a sensitive heart.

Elle a le coeur sensible will be part of my show "Dawn Chandler — Recent Paintings" opening on October 7th at the Downey Gallery at 225 Canyon Road, Santa Fe, New Mexico.

09.14.2011 ~ september clouds — a painter's clouds

2011-09-14T21:06:00.001-06:00

Tonight the sky was filled with a painter's clouds. I could just imagine Mother Nature taking a fat bristle brush loaded with oil paint and dragging it across the canvas of the sky. Not the most dramatic of skies I've seen lately, but the subtlety of color and the scumbled texture of the clouds were of the sort that makes a fellow painter catch her breath.

The sky lately, and the slant of early evening light across the red earth has caused me to reflect on the fact that most of this year the work I've been doing in my studio has NOT been landscapes. Rather, it's been mixed media — my "abstract" work, my "inner landscapes". It's been good, therapeutic work, and has helped me to work through some of the emotional struggles I've had to deal with this year (my father's death in February being one of them). And it's been necessary work as I gear up for my show next month at my new gallery. But my focus on this work has resulted in no time spent on my landscape paintings, nor working in oils for that matter. Not only is that because I've felt compelled to focus all of my energy on the gallery show paintings, but also with the extreme fire danger, I was relcutant to work with oils and solvents and have flammable paint rags around. (Indeed, a nearby neighbor's house was tragically destroyed by fire in early June, thanks to properly disposed of staining rags spontaneously combusting in an outdoor trash can).

But I'm getting ready. I've been carrying my camera with me on my walks, and recording this stunningly beautiful late summer/early autumn we're having so that I can paint this breezy season come winter. Honestly, I don't recall a more lush or brilliant late summer. Frequent rains have drawn out from sleep all sorts of drought-hibernating wildflowers and greenery. I never knew these dry hillsides could be so verdant and colorful. The contrast to the death-white pallor of June is staggering.

Once my gallery show is behind me, I'll be taking some time to plan my winter studio projects — landscape paintings key among them.

09.09.2011 ~ we are our souls

2011-09-09T09:33:00.004-06:00

we are our souls

16 x 8 inches mixed media on panel 2011

copyright dawn chandler 2011

September seems to be the month of angels...

Starting on October 7th, this painting will be on display at The Downey Gallery at 225 Canyon Road, Santa Fe. Join us for an opening reception that day from 5 - 7pm.

Below some details of we are our souls:

09.08.2011 ~ page 1, rule 6

2011-09-08T13:04:00.000-06:00

"Scramble. Be flexible." That's Page 1, Rule 6 of the Philmont Ranger Handbook, c. 1983, and is perhaps the best lesson I ever learned those summers working on staff as a Ranger at Philmont.

That lesson has come into play in my art career recently: My art show toward which I've been working the past many months and which was to open on September 2nd had to be postposed at the last minute. That's a great disappointment, but it was for a good — if profoundly sad — reason: the lovely owners of my gallery suffered a tragic loss in their family just days before Labor Day weekend.
My show is now scheduled for October 7th — the Friday of Columbus Day weekend.

So, a shift of gears as I scramble and flex to go with the flow. Hurry up and.....pause.

My dear friend "Flora" — my first childhood friend who has known me perhaps better than anyone these past 45 years (!) — was here last week visiting me. Her plan was to be here for my art show. But with that event suddenly postponed and my paintings still hanging on the walls of my studio, we now had a chance to review the work in the quiet intimacy of my home.

Flora is a gifted artist herself, her talents manifested especially in home arts and decor. She has a keen eye for color and design.

Though I trust my own instinct when it comes to my art, sometimes after looking at, contemplating and being surrounded by my paintings for months and months, it's hard to step back and view the work with clear eyes. Inevitably there are unresolved issues that I can't quite settle. Getting a trusted opinion can make all the difference in resolution. Flora is one of the very few people whose opinion regarding my art I seek and trust. So having time to pause and reflect on these paintings with her was invaluable. Our conversations — and time together in general — was akin to pressing the "release" valve on a pressure tank; I feel a sense of clarity and satisfaction with this work that I hadn't wholly felt prior to sharing it in trusted counsel.

What's more is we now got to experience the "First Friday" art openings as revelers rather than hosts, and that was a real treat. I'm ashamed to admit that though I've been living in Santa Fe for a year and a half, I had yet to get down town to any art openings —— !!!. Criminal, I know. But I live just far enough outside of town that the effort of getting into town on a late Friday afternoon can seem near Herculean.

Well, never again will that excuse pass muster. The experience of being among a joyful crowd viewing new art is just too much fun and invigorating to pass up again — not to mention it makes me feel much more connected to the larger "Art World". And that's a reassuring feeling, especially after the isolation of working in one's studio for months.

Now, with renewed insight and enthusiasm, time to return to the studio to make a few adjustments to this body of paintings......and prepare them for October 7th.

08.22.2011 ~ hoping they'll find me

2011-08-22T10:26:00.006-06:00

hoping they'll find me
— 8 x 8 inches — mixed media
— copyright Dawn Chandler 2011

In the grey days following my father's death this past February, when I was tending to the trying chore of going through his things and cleaning out his apartment, I'd find myself each evening, mentally and emotionally exhausted, sitting in his easy chair beside the open porch door. Though winter, I had the door ajar, to cool things off after a long day of hauling boxes and books and furniture.

The colors of those days were the wan palette of winter. But the sunsets there in central New Jersey were glorious shades of brilliant pink and orange. Each evening, just as the last colors of sunset were about to fade, a flock of geese would fly low overhead. All other sounds seemed to evaporate, save the call of those honking geese. They were such a comfort to me during those difficult days. I couldn't help but sense my parents' spirit in the passage of those geese.

Those wetland birds have continued to visit me in the high desert of New Mexico, if only in the realm of my paintings. . . .

Below, a few details of "Hoping They'll Find Me" ~

"Hoping They'll Find Me" will be on display with many other of my recent works at the Downey Gallery in Santa Fe during my September show. The opening reception is Friday, September 2nd, 5:00 - 7:00pm

08.16.2011 ~ releasing my fears

2011-08-16T06:32:00.006-06:00

releasing my fears
— 10 x 10 inches — mixed media
— copyright Dawn Chandler 2011

releasing my fears
to the storm; like kites, some caught
in leafless branches

I wrote that haiku — or rather, it wrote itself — as I worked on this painting. I started this sometime in the spring of 2010, when I was visiting my friend and fellow artist Joan Fullerton. We were having a great time in her studio, experimenting with mixed media techniques whilst sipping vino and listening to good music.

That tree image is hers — a photo that I xeroxed onto tissue paper, and then glued down over printed text. I then applied paint in shades of grey, pulling in the atmosphere around the tree. Later, I added bits of gold-tinged paper, and thought of kites.....I wrote across the painting's surface with my dip pen, lines of the above haiku.

Over the ensuing months, occasionally when I'd consider this piece, I'd be tempted to add more color. But ultimately I decided it stands best as a monochromatic statement.

This painting will be on display with many other of my recent works at the Downey Gallery in Santa Fe during my September show. The opening reception is Friday, September 2nd, 5:00 - 7:00pm

Below, some details of "releasing my fears":

08.10.2011 ~ nambe' & stowe

2011-08-10T08:23:00.003-06:00

A collector who's become a good friend visited with his young daughter on Sunday evening. My studio was a stop on their 2-week road trip. Whether intentionally or not, he and his wife are cultivating in their five-year old quite an eye for art. Of the two paintings they purchased, she picked out the Nambe trees; he, the abstracted landscape, both pictured above. They also purchased a good quantity of my handcrafted soap, which is sure to scent their car — if not their bodies — for the remainder of their trip!

I recall that those Nambe trees were quite a challenge — how to get the feeling of soon-to-bud springtime growth without getting caught up in rendering every last twig and branch. How I resolved it is described here: http://taosdawn.blogspot.com/2010/04/42610-nambe-spring-ii.html

The abstracted landscape is based on a scene in Vermont. Back when I was doing the weekend Santa Fe art markets last spring, I had a woman hemming and hawing about buying this piece. She clearly loved it , returned several times, and even studied it on my web site. I was sorry that she never came back to buy it, for it clearly spoke to her. In the end it's just as well, for I'm even more pleased to have it be added to the growing collection of a good friend. I recognize that these abstracted landscapes and mixed media pieces don't speak to everyone, so I'm always particularly excited when the do resonate for someone.
Here my original blog post about this piece: http://taosdawn.blogspot.com/2010/03/30110-stow-vermont-winter-memory.html

08.08.2011 ~ being capable of knowing

2011-08-08T17:20:00.007-06:00

being capable of knowing
— 24 x 24 inches — mixed media
— copyright Dawn Chandler 2011

There's a peaceful romanticism to this piece. It evolved without a preconceived notion of what I wanted it to be; it just seemed to come together on its own, without much time spent in mental deliberation. Interestingly, it came to resolution much more quickly than several pieces I've been working on that are a fraction of its size. Funny how that works sometimes.

This piece started first with copies of pages from my recent journals, which I glued to the panel surface. I then sealed the pages with clear glue, and then applied washes of acrylic paint over the top. They layer of clear glue between the paper and the paint prevents the paint from sinking in to the paper's surface. The reason I want to prevent that from happening is so that if I don't like the colors laid down, I can wipe them off. Without that layer of glue, the paint embeds into the fibers of the paper and remains permanent.

After applying a little paint, I then started to add fragments of other elements — copies of photos, old collages, printed text — and more layers of paint. With a dip pen — you know, the old fashioned kind with a metal nib that you dip into a bottle of ink — I wrote across the surface of the painting, a free-flowing of thoughts on my mind at the moment.

I so love writing with a dip pen; it connects me — grounds me — in the age-old practice of writing. When taking pen to hand I can't help but reflect on the centuries of writers who came before me and all of the communications they sat down to compose with such an implement in hand. Such a simple pleasure. And of course it's a relieving practice to write down one's thoughts. Therapeutic. Because many of these thoughts written on my paintings are deeply personal, I purposefully obfuscate my handwriting. What secrets lay embedded in my paintings, only I will ever know. And yet, even with cryptic handwriting, the therapy of writing my thoughts into my paintings is even more pronounced than writing simply in a personal journal. Perhaps because there's a feeling of releasing my concerns to the world, even if those thoughts remain ultimately enigmatic to anyone else.

If nothing else, the [largely] illegible hand-written thoughts add mystery to the mood of the piece; the lacy rows of handwriting, a delicacy to the eye.

Below, some details of "being capable of knowing"

08.05.2011 ~ Fire and Rain

2011-08-05T07:38:00.009-06:00

fire and rain
— 24 x 24 inches — mixed media
— copyright Dawn Chandler 2011

This has been the lost summer — one of smokey, smouldering anxiety.

The evening before my previous post, a downed aspen fell upon an electrical wire over near the town of Los Alamos, setting off an inferno that blazed like a cancer across the Jemez mountains, decimating over 150,000** acres of beautiful forests, arroyos, mesas and meadows. For a month our skies were filled with smoke, as we sat helpless watching our beautiful wildlands go up in flames.

The first significant rain in many months arrived at my house on the last day of June, though it did little to dissipate the fires the next county over. Still, when the clouds opened up with rain overhead, I wept. And in the morning, the birds and earth seemed to sing with abandon.

A couple more showers came and went after that, but July (at least at my house) wasn't nearly as wet as it might have been. August though seems to be making up for that, and my little world here among the pinon foothills is rejoicing. The fires of Los Alamos and Santa Fe are now out, thanks to the incredible efforts of armies of fire fighters. May the healing begin.

This painting, Fire and Rain, is one I started in late June, and will be part of my show at The Downey Gallery opening Friday, September 2nd.

**For my Philmont friends, try to imagine: That's an area larger than all of Phiilmont.

Below, some details of Fire and Rain.

06.27.2011 ~ dreaming of rain

2011-06-27T06:20:00.003-06:00

wrapping myself in rain to protect myself from the fire
— 12 x 12 inches — mixed media
— copyright Dawn Chandler 2011

The only bloom that's growing around here these days is the bloom of smoke rising from our land. It's been a terribly tense spring and summer here in the Southwest, as the sun beats down and the wind sucks dry any semblance of moisture. Seems that if you trod too heavily or stare at a piece of parched grass or wood too hard, it will burst into flames. Dirt roads and river beds have turned to fine powder. What vegetation there is beside the roads is the brown death color of deepest winter, now turned pale with a fine layer of gritty dust. The plains are white with dead grass.

Neighbors two houses up from mine lost their home a few weeks ago to flames — a paint rag ignited in a garbage can beside the house, despite their handling and disposing of the rags properly. The foothills below my house ignited last month due to overheated car brakes. As I write this, ash is sifting from the sky. 10,000 acres of our beautiful Santa Fe National Forest near the Santa Fe Ski basin has been engulfed in flames. A new fire near Los Alamos started yesterday afternoon and has already consumed over 4,000 acres of forest. The colossal, erupting plume of smoke last evening was nothing short of biblical.

With the threat of fire so close to home, my thoughts are consumed by the parched land, my time spent working in trying to reduce the fuel load around the house: trimming branches, pulling dry weeds, moving firewood away. Doing what I can to create a "defensible space."

Last week I drove up to Cimarron as I like to do each June, to spend a few days photographing the land in and around Philmont, the Ranch where I worked years ago, and which is the subject of so many of my traditional landscape paintings. But the land was so withered and dry, and the sky so barren of clouds, that I hardly brought out my camera at all.

The anxiety of fire seems to be everywhere.
Worry presses, as it has now for weeks.
I released some of that worry early this morning, as I dreamed of wrapping myself in cooling, quenching rain.

Below, a few details:

06.09.2011 ~ you're invited!

2011-06-09T07:30:00.000-06:00

Thrilled and honored to have my painting "I Return to the River Where Once..." chosen to grace front and center the announcement for the Mining the Unconscious: And Exhibit of Art Inspired by Cark Jung's Red Book. The show opens next Friday, June 17th, at the Santa Fe Community Art Gallery, with a reception from 5:00 - 7:00. The show will be on display through August 21, 2011. Hope to see you there!

06.06.2011 ~ kind of blue

2011-06-06T16:08:00.011-06:00

kind of blue
— 11.25 x 9 inches — mixed media on panel
— copyright 2011 dawn chandler

A piece that developed over many years, finally deemed finished. How can it have developed over many years? Because it started first as a small collage of about 3 x 4 inches, that was complete in its own right and framed. Eventually I took it out of its frame, decided to recycle it, and glued more stuff to it. At some point it got glued onto a panel, yet more collage elements were adhered, paint was applied here and there, fragments of photos, jolts of color, and then one day — Voila! —I felt satisfied that it was complete.

There's little that's recognizable in this, but to me, all those rectangular shapes weaving in and out of depth and clarity are like passageways — pockets of emotion....
sights and sounds and smells.....
memories.....
experience....
life.

Below, some details:

06.01.2011 ~ an exciting announcement!

2011-05-31T20:09:00.011-06:00

The first of June and I'm delighted to announce that my work may now be found in a Santa Fe gallery: The Downey Gallery at 225 Canyon Road has invited me to join their stable of talented artists.
In business for over twenty-three years, The Downey Gallery is one of Santa Fe's most well-established and lovely galleries. I am honored to join them!
At The Downey one may now see panels from my perennial Passion series, such as A Promise of Spring, as well as other favorite mixed-media paintings of mine including Daring to Fly a Kite of Cadmium and Light and It Was the Horses the Brought Her Back to Me

To add further to the excitement, The Downey Gallery will be featuring new paintings of mine in a show this coming September. An opening reception is planned for Friday, September 2nd, 5:00 - 7:00pm. Hope to see you there!

5.25.2011 ~ i return to the river where once...

2011-05-24T18:50:00.007-06:00

i return to the river where once...
— 24 x 24 inches — mixed media on panel
— copyright Dawn Chandler 2011

Yesterday I applied the last couple coats of varnish to this, my most recent mixed media painting: I Return to the RIver Where Once.... I've created this piece for Mining the Unconscious: An Exhibit of Art Inspired by Carl Jung's Red Book — a summer exhibition hosted by the Santa Fe Community Gallery. I'm thrilled to have been invited to participate. I'll deliver the painting today; the exhibit will be installed late next week.

This exhibit has provided me the perfect excuse to pull out my collage materials and acrylic paints this spring and get busy with mixed media. To create my painting I started with a previously abandoned painting on panel, one of an abstracted landscape with a river cutting through it. That former painting was never satisfying to me, so a few years ago I started reworking it, taking it through any number of metamorphoses. I'd leave it alone for awhile, and then a few months later pick it up again. When I was invited to participate in this special exhibition, I knew immediately that I would use this recycled panel as the base for my new painting. A stretch of the river from the original painting is still visible in the bottom right quadrant of this newly finished piece. That river kept disappearing and reemerging as I reworked the old painting.

Recycled collages — pieces that were complete works in their own right, but which I decided would be put to better use as part of a larger story — make up the left-hand side of this piece. Composed of old wine bottle labels, dried and emptied tea bag papers, stamped images, fragments of cloth and paint rags, they provide visual texture and 'detail' to the larger composition. Fragments of photographs of statuary tease, suggesting — begging — a narrative that remains ultimately enigmatic.

Mining the Unconscious: An Exhibit of Art Inspired by Carl Jung's Red Book will open on Friday evening, June 17th at the Santa Fe Community Gallery at 201 West Marcy Street (at the intersection of Marcy and Sheridan), Santa Fe. The show will be on display through the summer.

Below, details of my painting:

05.15.2011 ~ dixon spring

2011-05-16T13:23:00.009-06:00

dixon spring, i
— oil on panel — 6 x 6 inches
— copyright dawn chandler 2011

Up in Dixon for a spring afternoon. I love the undulating, flesh-toned hills in Dixon....[Note to Self: Need to spend more time up there...]

Again, the sun hardly showed itself, so there's little contrast of shadows and light in this piece.

Below are a couple images of the early stages of this painting — a good example of how I go about 'carving' a tree trunk with paint (see earlier post for more details).

05.06.2011 ~ in view of mother's day....

2011-05-06T12:54:00.008-06:00

untitled
— ink on paper — 8.5 x 4 inches
— copyright dawn chandler 2011 —

A study of a photograph I discovered this spring, of my beautiful mother, c. 1954 ~ mere weeks after my parents were married. They were living in New York City, and had gone to The Cloisters for the day. My father's romantic spirit comes to life in the beautiful photographs he took of my mother throughout their 53 years of marriage, and in these early photographs especially. He clearly liked the photo I've copied here, for he placed it alone on the album page. His black and white photo though is over-exposed, such that my mother's image is very bright. Indeed, she looks angelic.
Which, in fact, she is.

05.05.2011 ~ santa fe dog days

2011-05-05T06:38:00.006-06:00

santa fe dog days 01 — santa fe baldy
—16 x 16 inches —oil on linen
— copyright Dawn Chandler 2011 —

The finest dog in the universe, pausing for a moment to take in the view on the descent from the summit of Santa Fe Baldy.

Been wanting to paint this ever since I took the photo a couple of summers ago when we made our first (and so far only) ascent of Baldy. Finally got around to it this week!

Really, when you get right down to it, the picture isn't all that interesting. There are few colors, and what colors there are are washed out pretty well thanks to the bright midday sky. But still, it's a picture that conjures tremendous joy, and the spirit of adventure — let alone fine memories of a fine day. These, alone, make it a paint-worthy image in my book.

Below is a detail of my pup. Not surprisingly, she was the most difficult part of the painting. Much like the forsythia in my previous post, I carved her out of a large swatch of black paint, pulling in the sky around her.
Which direction is she looking? Out to the sky, or off toward the lower right?
It's kind of an optical illusion... In truth, in the photo, she's looking off to the lower-right, taking kind of a regal stance while awaiting our arrival up the trail. In the painting though, to me she looks as though she's looking away from us, out toward the sky.

The trail we took to the top of Santa Fe Baldy was 14 miles round-trip. This dog ran the whole way, and then some. We were hiking all day, and at trail's end, she finally stopped moving, collapsing in the car and snoozed for two hours.
That evening? While the rest of us were nearly in a coma of exhaustion, she was ready to go at it again. "Let's PLAY! Let's HIKE! Let's PLAY! COME ON!!!"

Crazy, good-for-nothing dog.

05.01.2011 ~ liquid sunshine

2011-05-01T16:55:00.004-06:00

Recently I received the loveliest gift: A condolence card from a dear artist friend. Though she didn't know my father, she sent such nice thoughts. But along with the card was a tube of oil paint — "liquid sunshine," as she calls it. Gamblin's "Indian Yellow."

Pictured here in the left, that ooze of orange paint at the top is what the color looks like right out of the tube. Below with the palette knife is what it looks like with a bit of titanium white added to it. Liquid sunshine, indeed!

On this First of May, when the sky is a scourge of grey blustery clouds and spitting snow, I can think of no better activity than to push a little "liquid sunshine" about with my paint brush.
Thank you, Friend!

04.25.2011 ~ santa fe spring: nambe forsythia

2011-04-25T16:58:00.009-06:00

santa fe spring, i — nambe forsythia
— oil on panel — 6 x 6 inches — copyright dawn chandler 2011

Forcythia, growing beside the window of my friends Susan and Jeff's home. I painted this a couple of weeks ago, from a photo I took last year. The challenge was that the lighting in my photo wasn't very good. It was an overcast day, so there was little contrast to the landscape; shadows and highlights were dull or nonexistent. I tried to fake it by pushing the highlights and smears of sunlight on the wall. Almost, but not quite.

A friend stopped by my studio as I was working on this painting. Not a painter herself, she was surprised to see that I was painting in the window and adobe wall last. She said she would have expected me to paint in the house first, and then paint the forsythia last, on top of the house. Instead I put in the mass of yellow and branches for the bush first and excavated the adobe wall and window around it.

This is usually how I approach painting trees and foliage anymore. I find working this way breaks up the edges of the various shapes, in a more expressive and painterly way than were I to approach it the other way. If I had painted the bush in last, the edges of the branches and foliage would be too sharp relative to the rest of the painting. I know this because that is exactly how I used to try to paint trees and foliage, and came up frustrated every time. Only through trial and error, and studying the technique of some other painters (Kevin McPherson and Richard Schmid, especially) and how they approach trees and foliage, did I start to get the hang of it.

04.11.2011 ~ A New Philmont Painting by Jeff Segler

2011-04-11T15:25:00.008-06:00

I want my Philmont friends out there to know about something that I think is pretty cool. My friend and fellow former Philmont staff member, Jeff Segler, is an incredibly gifted, award-winning painter. Many of you know him from the painting he did in the early 80s called "I Wanna Go Back to Philmont," and indeed a good number of you have a print of that very painting hanging in your own home.

Jeff recently created a beautiful oil painting of a scene of Philmont — a view of the Tooth of Time, with a couple of deer in the foreground. The detail and paint application — let along the view — is simply lovely. But what's really incredible about this painting, is that, though Jeff could surely sell it for quite a bit of money for his own profit, instead he's donated the framed painting to the Philmont Staff Association (PSA) to raffle off in support of seasonal staff scholarships.
What does that mean? That means that the proceeds from the sale of the raffle tickets will go to fund college scholarships for the summer staff of Philmont.

The raffle is this Saturday (April 16th) at the Ranch during the Ranch Committee and PSA Board meeting.

The tickets are $50 a pop.

You can buy one (or more!) with your credit card by calling the PSA office: 575-376-1138. (8:00 - 5:00 New Mexico time).

Do it.
(I just did.)

Even if you don't win the painting, you are supporting a really great cause.

And who knows? You just might win a really cool painting.

Oh, and you don't have to be present to win!

04.10.2011 ~ santa fe sunset, i

2011-04-10T18:18:00.005-06:00

santa fe sunset, 1 — oil on panel — 6 x 6 inches — copyright dawn chandler 2011

I am going to take the liberty of speaking on behalf of all New Mexicans and say this: I am tired of the wind.

Sigh.

Alas, this is what "spring" in New Mexico means: WIND.

Hard to appreciate the soft beauty of delicate fruit trees coming into bloom, or the tender shoots of new green growth cautiously rising from the ground, when a fury of dust blows eternally…. ARGH.

Well, if nothing else, I can at least attempt to escape the maelstrom that is New Mexican spring by recalling the beauty and peacefulness of more appreciable times in this otherwise blessed land. Here then is a painting I whipped up yesterday afternoon of a New Mexico sunset, based on a photo I took some time last year. It was luscious fun to escape into these colors... I almost didn't even hear the wind bludgeoning the side of the studio...

04.05.11 ~ finding my way home

2011-04-05T05:55:00.006-06:00

finding my way home
— mixed media and oil on panel
— 6 x 6 inches — copyright dawn chandler 2011

Much of the past few days has been spent cleaning and organizing my studio. It's always a motivating project, reminding me of the many materials I have buried away, and inspiring me to get my hands dirty with them.

My studio walls were cluttered with last year's paintings — lots of landscapes, and a few "abstracts" tucked behind them. I've decided to put away all of the landscapes, at least for now. I have some big projects lined up for this year and I need room to breathe and think. Having too much visual clutter just gets in the way of new ideas.

The excavation of my studio turned up this piece, pictured above. I'm pleasantly surprised to find it; I like it more than I remembered. It's another of the few mixed media pieces I had a chance to work on last year.
The suggestions of landscape, the arched passageways, ambiguity of form and illusion….these are familiar themes of mine when it comes to my mixed media/abstract work.

There's a jewel-like color clarity — especially in the blues — that rather sings to me in this piece. That color quality, combined with the small scale, and the archways might account for why, this morning, as I contemplate this little painting, I am reminded of the paintings of the lovely book of prayer, Les Tres Riches des Heures duc de Berry.

I used to make little books. Tiny pages of yet tinier collages. Small books of whispered prayers.
My prayers.
Pages of my soul.

This piece is not being put away. It's going above my work table.

03.30.11 ~ another view of the chamisa trail

2011-03-30T07:34:00.005-06:00

— santa fe winter, V — the chamisa trail
— 6 x 6 inches oil on panel — copyright dawn chandler

Another view from the Chamisa Trail, just outside of Santa Fe, where my friend, pup and I hiked in late December. If you look carefully — squint your eyes just bit — you can just make out my sweet black mutt bounding down the trail ahead of us. Hard not to find joy in life when out in the woods with a happy pup.

03.28.2011 ~ santa fe winter, iv

2011-03-28T13:15:00.006-06:00

— santa fe winter, iV — the chamisa trail
— 6 x 6 inches oil on panel — copyright dawn chandler

Remember these? My small (6" x 6") "daily landscape" oil paintings? I had started to post some new ones in January, but my rhythm got interrupted when I had to rush off to the east coast later that month...

Here's one of two more little landscapes I had done in January that I hadn't had time to post. This scene here is on the afternoon of December 28th, 2010, on the Chamisa Trail of the Santa Fe Forest, just a few miles from down town, and off the ski valley road. The day felt fairly warm — until we got in the shade, when we were reminded that it really was winter. We had just turned around at this point, to see the bright light of midafternoon highlighting the slope of distant evergreens.

03.20.2011 ~ first day of spring

2011-03-20T08:47:00.011-06:00

the brightest light is between the shadows
— 9 x 12 inches — oil and mixed media — copyright dawn chandler 2011

First day of spring and I will say I'm ready to put this emotionally wrought winter behind me. I've spent a lot of the 'down time' these weeks reflecting on my life and work — especially of the past twelve months — rethinking goals and acknowledging desires. Most of my creative energy last year was spent painting landscapes, thanks in large part to the commission piece I posted previously, and the many studies I did in preparation for it. That was good, productive and lucrative studio work, helping me to keep my representational paintings skills sharp. Painting landscapes is fun and often challenging; certainly I'll continue to paint my landscapes, and will be posting more of them here (and some very soon!)

But the extreme focus on landscape last year kept me from spending much of any time on my mixed media/abstract work. As a result, my soul is feeling a little starved of its voice. Having lived so much emotion already this year, I'm hungering to give voice to all that's simmering beneath the surface. 'Feeling an almost nervous need to express my 'internal landscape.'

At the start of this new year I had intended to start developing some new mixed media/abstract pieces — just as soon as I got certain other projects out of the way. Yet just as I was about to begin this exciting new work, my work was interrupted by the sharp edge of Life.

This evening I am cleaning my studio in preparation for renewed creative intensity. While tidying, among the paintings I found was this small oil canvas — one of the few "abstract" pieces I worked on last year. It started as an abandoned traditional landscape, which I painted over here and there whenever the desire struck me. On New Year's Day of this year I added the final brushstrokes.

I'm pleased to find this piece again; it resonates strongly for me just now. I call it "The Brightest Light is Between the Shadows" — the first of my new "Sanctuary" series.

03.16.2011 ~ end of day over the philmont range (grande)

2011-03-16T19:17:00.010-06:00

end of the day over the philmont range
— oil on canvas — 24 x 36 inches
— copyright Dawn Chandler 2011

In June of last year patron friends of mine contacted me about doing a commission for them. Several years earlier they purchased my original oil painting of June Evening On the Cimarron, which they hung in their living room. Now they wanted something for their dining room.

After spending some time studying my paintings on my website, my friends thought they might like a New Mexico landscape with a peaceful mood, and some of the warm colors they saw in some of my other paintings.

Once they settled on these parameters (warm colors, peaceful mood), I offered to do a series of smaller landscape paintings based on their preferences, and see if I came up with something that appealed to them. If so, I would then create a larger painting of the one they liked. If not, I'd keep creating smaller paintings in hopes of eventually coming up with something they liked.

By October I had completed ten panoramic landscape paintings (all of which, incidentally, were posted and discussed at one time or another here on my blog). I created a special presentation for my friends so that they could easily view all of the paintings. A modified version of The Panorama Paintings presentation can be viewed by clicking here.

While my friends were drawn to several of the smaller paintings, the one that really resonated for them was End of Day Over the Philmont Range. They especially liked the tapestry of colors in the foreground.

So in late October I set about creating a larger version of End of Day Over the Philmont Range and had a ball painting on a larger scale. I had it more or less completed by mid December, but then put it away for a few weeks to give my eyes and sense of discernment a rest from looking at it. In early January I pulled it out again, made a few adjustments here and there, and then, finally, deemed it finished.

To share the finished piece with my friends, I created yet another presentation, The Dining Room Painting Commission, which can be viewed by clicking here.

One of my few joys in early February this year was to share with my late father a picture of the finished large painting, End of the Day Over the Philmont Range and the great news that my friends happily approved of the painting. (My Dad was pleased. :)

Yesterday, I finally shipped off the painting, concluding this really rather wonderful and cool project. I loved doing it, loved painting big and exploring landscapes on a horizontal. In fact, I enjoyed it all so much that I suspect there will be more such paintings churning out of my studio in the coming months. God knows I'm ready to get busy painting again.

11 march 2011 ~ i wasn't ready for you to go

2011-03-11T20:36:00.007-07:00

'i wasn't ready for you to go'
— by dawn chandler — from the passion series, 2008 — 16 x 8 inches — mixed media on panel

On March 2nd my father would have turned 80. He died a scant month ago — days shy of his 80th birthday. I've spent the past many long days packing up his apartment — a labor of staggering bitter-sweetness, for with every tear comes a laugh, and every laugh, more tears.

Among his things was this painting I made three years ago.

Thinking back on the creation of this piece......
I remember it started with the image of the young woman on the left. In fact, I had glued her down to the panel some years before, and then never returned to the piece. At that time I had in mind that the piece would be about romantic love and yearning. I tore her in half, which seemed to emphasize the breaking of her heart, and glued the two pieces to the panel. I then abandoned the piece.

Three or four years later I was working on a series of panels for a large art show I was to be in later that summer. I found the panel with the woman again. She seemed to be begging for her story to be developed. At the very least she needed a suggestion of place; a scene for her story.

So in my studio that late spring of 2008, I found a photo of a window frame, and collaged it in.
The window panes were too blank though....
Looking around, I found a photo of my childhood home....Hmmm.....might just work.... I enlarged it and collaged it so it appeared through the window.
Still....it needed something...another figure perhaps?
Excavating more stacks of photos, I found one I had taken of a bronze figurine on a Tiffany clock — a clock that had been in my family a long time. I enlarged the clock figurine and placed her in the bottom corner. She seemed almost to be talking to the young woman on the left, but I couldn't quite tease out their conversation nor determine their relationship.

After some thought, I deemed all the parts of this piece now were competing for attention with each other. All were of the same high contrast black and white. A difference needed to happen; the competing lights and darks needed to be reduced somehow.

On a bit of a whim I brushed on a light blue wash of paint on the right-hand side of the piece, visually pushing it back.

The right-hand side — the window, the distant house (my childhood home), and the elegant, older, dignified woman — became ghostlike.
With a quiet gasp I staggered with the sudden recognition that this painting was of my own story, and my utter heartbreak at losing my mother. She died months earlier to breast cancer.

With a wave of emotional recognition, I admitted aloud there in my studio as I leaned over this painting, that.....I wasn't ready for her to go.
Blinking back a river of tears, I gave voice to the gaping break in my heart in a way I hadn't been able to do before, and whispered those words aloud, over and over again: "I wasn't ready for you to go....I wasn't ready for you to go.....I wasn't ready for you to go....."

Some weeks later, during the opening reception for the art exhibition, my father, without knowing anything about this piece or the meaning behind it, commented to a very close friend of mine that he was really drawn to this piece. My friend, knowing the emotional story behind the painting, revealed it to him.

My father bought the painting.

01.25.2011 ~ santa fe winter, iii

2011-01-25T07:38:00.004-07:00

— santa fe winer. iii
— 6 x 6 inches oil on panel — copyright dawn chandler 2011

I thought this one would be easy. Afterall, there's not much to it: A simple line of trees, a bit of duel-colored sky, and a swath of sun-striped snow. The composition is simple and there just aren't that many color variations—maybe six. And yet ARRRRGH! I struggled with this! The most frustrating part was trying to get the right color for the sun-highlighted evergreen trees. That's a challenge that has vexed me in other paintings. To my eye, the color of late day sun-highlighted evergreen trees is usually a rusty-orange brown color. Trying to achieve the correct hue and shade and apply it without making the trees look dead can be a real a struggle. After a few stops and starts I think I finally pulled it off here, but just barely. Really, the color of the tree highlights could be a shade lighter, but I'm going to leave it and quit while I'm barely ahead.

01.22.2011 ~ santa fe winter, ii

2011-01-22T07:46:00.004-07:00

— santa fe winter, ii
— 6 x 6 inches oil on panel — copyright dawn chandler 2011

The second of two oil paintings I did that night last week, mentioned in Thursday's post. The creative sense just flowed that evening. I'm delighted with the sense of color and light in this piece.
The scene here: Near the clearing on the lower west corner of the property, Christmas Day.

After a long day on the computer yesterday tending to art office work, I'm excited to have set aside this morning to paint.
...may The Muse be magnanimous.

01.20.2011 — santa fe winter, i

2011-01-20T07:50:00.005-07:00

— santa fe winter, i
— 6 x 6 inches oil on panel — copyright dawn chandler 2011

Woke up to snow this morning. Barely a dusting, but even this meager amount is welcome. The end of January is approaching, and until this morning, we've had no snow this month. I'm not much of a fan of winter, yet even I am hoping the snows will return, at least for a little while. For now, drifts of two big storms in December still lie in the cold shadows of trees and arroyos. At least I was able to get some photographs of the earlier snow, while it lasted.

Early last week, a building sense of frustration and exasperation with my busy schedule finally caused me to exclaim "SCREW IT!!" and drop everything and just paint. Until that moment, I had barely been able to turn to my palette in weeks. That night, finally, that pressure cooker of frustration released itself in the flow and satisfaction of turpentine and oil paint...Ahh, bliss!
For inspiration, I turned to those photos of winter. Above, the first of two paintings I did that pressure-cooker night. The scene: just up my road on a winter's late afternoon, looking east as the setting sunlight highlights a neighbor's pinon and cedar wood.

To my surprise, my paintings that evening turned out quite well. The looseness and confidence of the brushwork, the accuracy of color and light...I'm delighted with how well and quickly these all came together. I guess I'm always expecting that after a time away from painting, I'll be rusty and not very good at it. And yet, often quite the opposite proves true: that as frustrating as a hiatus from painting can be, it's often useful. For, though the creative skills and vision are not apparently actively engaged, they continue to incubate. A bit like "sleep-thinking" — when you go to bed at night mulling over a question, and in the morning wake to find the answer. Or like a runner preparing for a race, taking off a few days before the event to rest and restore, and then run a great race. I guess in order to perform especially well, the creative muscles and synapses benefit from rest, too. Or at least they seem to have this time around, anyway....

01.12.11 ~ art & fear in a new year

2011-01-12T08:22:00.009-07:00

I've always loved the transition of the old year into the new. Maybe it's because my birthday is right there between Christmas and New Year's, therefore adding a very personal sense of a "new chapter" to my life. But I've always appreciated the changing of the year as a time for resolution, affirmation and renewal, and this year I welcome the change even more than usual.

Last year was tough. Despite the joy of moving to an exciting new town and a beautiful new home — a move I very definitely wanted to make and don't regret for a moment — the transition was more challenging than I had anticipated. Just getting used to the newness of everything, getting into the groove of a rhythm, and developing a new lyric for my life...It's been a long time since I've had to do any of that, and it was harder than I thought it'd be. On top of that, the economy took a staggering hit on the art world and some of the professional artistic ventures I undertook did not pan out as I'd hoped they would. Lots and lots of sleepless nights in 2010, resulting in some big changes for me — like getting a part time job to supplement my living.
All in all, finding that sweet Balance in life of art career, 'real job', fitness, relationships and nurturing spirit has surely been the biggest challenge of all for me, and continues to taunt and tease me into this new year.

And yet, I'm learning....The secret to finding that Balance, I'm beginning to grasp, is in letting go of all of the detritus.
Simplifying.
Getting down to the essentials.
And then taking what's left and making the most of it.
Showing up and doing the work that needs to be done.
And quit whining.

In the realm of Art, there's a terrific little book out there that speaks to some of this. It's called Art & Fear: Observations on the Perils (and Rewards) of Artmaking, by David Bayles and Ted Orland. I've read it many times and am appreciating reading it again now, as I transition into this new year and continue to seek that elusive Balance. I recommend Art & Fear to anyone seriously involved in creative pursuits.

Now get to work.

12.17.2010 ~ pajarito canyon, los alamos

2010-12-17T20:56:00.008-07:00

— los alamos winter, i — pajarito canyon
— 6 x 6 inches oil on panel — copyright dawn chandler 2010

Enough of summertime paintings — I'm ready to immerse myself in the season of the present. And what better way to do that than by exploring the late autumn forests with a convivial group of friends.

Earlier this week I had the good fortune of being invited to join a stellar group of women on a day hike in the Pajarito Canyon of Los Alamos. If that name sounds familiar, it may be because this is an area decimated by the disastrous Cerro Grande Fire of 2000, that destroyed over 48,000 acres and 200 homes in Los Alamos.

Ten years later, this fire-ravaged landscape on this overcast December day was gray and bleak. Broken, charred tree trunks rose up from the muted landscape like lonely masts in a ships' graveyard. The wind howled eerily. Yet even in this barren winter landscape, signs of growth and rejuvenation were everywhere. Though leafless this time of year, dense stands of slender new aspens covered the shady hillsides, their gray monotony broken with sprays of copper scrub oak, red willow and evergreen. The wind though....never have I heard such a haunting sound. Never. Voices are what we heard emanating from the waving aspens, an ancestral murmur stirred by our conversations and the approaching snow.

Here's a scene from our hike that day — toward the end, when the sun broke out briefly as we wound our way up from the stream and back down to the trail head. I did this little painting that evening, after our hike, in an effort to hold on to a bit of the magic of the day....

12.12.2010 ~ just around the bend

2010-12-12T21:32:00.009-07:00

— philmont summer, xiii — just around the bend
— 6 x 6 inches — oil on panel — daily painting series
— copyright Dawn Chandler 2010

Soon I'll be posting paintings of autumn and winter landscapes, as I take in and attempt to capture the changes of the land around me. For now though, a few more images of summer.... Here, a little painting I did in August, of a June afternoon. We're just south of the Rayado River, where it crosses the road just east of Zastrow. Once we turn 'round those trees on the right, we'll dip our toes in the cold mountain water.

I will say I'm pleased with how my trees have been turning out this year. Finally feeling like I'm getting the hang of conveying them with paint.

12.02.2010 ~ painting under the weather

2010-12-02T09:00:00.007-07:00

A tightening of a vice grip — that's what my head feels like is happening to it on either temple. Haven't had a cold this bad in years...... Makes me realize how much I take my usual good health for granted. Also makes me realize what a wimp I am, to feel this badly from a cold, when courageous people I know are fighting off much more serious and painful diseases.

Interesting that in the midst of this achy misery, about the only thing I can do that doesn't exhaust me or make my head and brain ache is paint. Who would have thought? Certainly not I. But yesterday, at least, when not sleeping in a head-cold coma, I found working at my easel to be remarkably soothing — even more so than usual. My fuzzy brain — otherwise strained and pained by activity — just seemed to fade in to a place of quiet peacefulness, such that I didn't really have to think much at all; some other silent part of my brain just kind of kicked in and took me away to a place of comfort. The further surprise is that I painted well, even, despite significant numbers of brain synapses dulled with sickness.

I guess this is one of the reasons we create: that no matter our wounds or ailments, on some level it lets us escape from our pain and go to a place of nurturing peacefulness.

Detail of a new landscape painting I've been working on this week ....

11.30.2010 ~ philmont summer, xiii — rayado clearing

2010-11-30T08:04:00.007-07:00

— rayado clearing — philmont summer, xiii
— 6 x 6 inches — oil on panel — daily painting series
— copyright Dawn Chandler 2010

It's been a few weeks since I've been able to paint — globs of oil paint left on my palette are now firm with a skin of dried paint across their tops; my brushes, neglected, sit resting upright in their assorted tin cans along the edge of my large palette. (Which, I might add, brings me to note that one of the great tragedies of the movement by coffee roasters to package coffee in folding 'vacuum' bags is that it's harder and harder to find good coffee cans for storing stuff!)

Travel and other projects and obligations had kept me from my muse in the studio much of this autumn. But now, with a number of these commitments out of the way, I can return again to my passion.

It can always be a little intimidating getting back into painting if you've been away from it for a while. A subconscious questioning of "do I really have the skill to pull this off?" often harasses the mind. Depending on what else is going on in one's life, it's a question that can arise on a daily basis, even if one has been painting consistently. The fear of getting started is what it boils down to. That's always the biggest challenge: just getting started. So the important thing to do — the essential and critical thing — is to just do it. Get started.

I have several commissions lined up that I need to get done in the next few weeks. So to warm up my creative and painterly senses, I decided to simply just get started by doing a small landscape. Get the blood and paint flowing, so to speak. And flow it did! I'm pleased with how quickly this little one came together.

That's another thing I've noticed: often after taking a hiatus from painting, when I do finally pick up a brush again, I'm able to paint quite well and quickly. My eye for color seems more honed than before — kind of the opposite of what I would have expected. I would have thought I'd be rusty, but maybe my senses are simply rested and recharged? That, at least, seems to be the case this time around, and I'm grateful for it.

11.27.2010 ~ Baldy Mt in books and prints

2010-11-27T09:06:00.000-07:00

Well this is kind of cool: My painting "Baldy from Miranda Meadow" which I did this past summer, now adorns the cover of the newly released book, Carry On! The Life Adventures of Joe Davis, Former Director of Camping, Philmont Scout Ranch. Written by James Sundergill, edited by Bill Cass it is published by the Philmont Staff Association — the alumni organization for which I was the executive director for several years some time back.

Baldy Mountain, standing 12,441 ft in elevation, is the highest peak on Philmont. I climbed it for the first time thirty years ago (!!), when I was fifteen, trekking across the Ranch for the first time with a group of great friends and my parents on a two-week backpacking trip. Climbing Baldy in the wee hours of a July morning was surely the hardest and most challenging thing I'd ever done up to that point in my life. The glory felt on the top of the peak just as the sun was breaking over the eastern planes is a cherished memory I hold to this day. Summitting that peak — just like I did three decades ago — is a crowning, life affirming achievement for thousands of kids and adults every year.
The mountain and it's surrounding area were acquired by the Scouts back in the 60s, during Joe Davis' tenure at Philmont, and was an especially beloved part of the Ranch to Mr. Davis. It therefore only seems appropriate that an image of the peak grace the cover of a book about the man. I'm pleased with how well the cover turned out. Indeed, I don't mind at all that the painting image was cropped considerably. It looks good!

The timing of the book's publication couldn't have been better, as I've just had giclee prints of the painting made.

For more details and to buy a print of Baldy from Miranda Meadow, click here.

For more details and to buy the Joe Davis book, "Carry On!', click here.

11.26.2010 ~ colorado afternoon

2010-11-26T09:05:00.005-07:00

colorado afternoon, i
— 12 x 12 inches — oil on panel
— copyright Dawn Chandler 2010

Thanksgiving often finds me in Colorado, visiting family, but this year I decided to stay put in New Mexico and celebrate with special loved ones and friends here. Still, my thoughts this holiday often drifted northward to the Centennial State. Here then is a Colorado scene that I painted some time this past summer — "Colorado Afternoon" — based on a road trip I'd made through the Western Slope a couple of years ago.
...Need to do more Colorado scenes....

11.22.2010 — art renewal

2010-11-22T13:42:00.011-07:00

Finally...After an hour here, two hours there over the course of many weeks, I'm pleased (and relieved!) to finally have my taosdawn.com web site up to date.

...Well, the "Land" side of it anyway...

I've added all of the landscapes I've created this year, plus some earlier ones. While doing so I've also enlarged the images so that they are easier to view, and have limited the number of images to one on most pages so as to show off the individual paintings without distraction.

My "Store" where patrons can order giclee prints of select paintings, has also bee refurbished:

Next project: Updating the "Spirit" side of the site with recent abstractions and mixed media work. Stay tuned!

10.27.2010 — rayado summer storm, i

2010-10-27T08:10:00.001-06:00

rayado summer storm, i
10 panorama xiii
— 10 x 20 inches — oil on canvas
— copyright Dawn Chandler 2010

A summer's evening in June, looking out over Rayado to the not too distant Miami Mesa. We're at the junction of Hwy 21 and the Zastrow/Abreu road and looking south. The clouds were boiling cold with hail and rain, when finally they broke and swelled with color.

This is last of my panoramic landscape 'studies" that I created in response to a commission request by friends of mine. [details here]. I'm delighted to conclude this project with a strong painting. All of my paintings in this series have been good and satisfying, but for me, this last piece is my favorite of the series. I like the verity of the colors, the natural compliments therein, and the energy and freshness of the brushstrokes. Indeed, this painting came together quickly and confidently and to my eye, it shows.

I thoroughly enjoyed this panorama project and based on the inquires about and sales I've had of these works, others seem to have enjoyed it, too. As a result, you can expect to see more panoramic paintings in the future!

10.19.2010 ~ daybreak

2010-10-19T08:02:00.005-06:00

daybreak
10 panorama xii
— 10 x 30 inches — oil on canvas
— copyright Dawn Chandler 2010

Another panorama based on a photo taken by my friend, Douglas. This painting didn't feel as challenging to pull off as the previous one, mainly because I didn't feel quite as stumped by the colors. That's not to say capturing the sunlight highlighting the earthy ochres and browns of the New Mexico grasslands is easy! It's just that with practice I'm getting a little more skilled at finding that certain brownish-ochre-gold tone with my paints.

On the left, the larger mountain mass is Urraca Mesa. We're looking down a fence line, with the road off to the right.

10.12.10 ~ morning rising across the sangres

2010-10-11T19:25:00.006-06:00

morning rising on the sangres (tooth ridge)
10 panorama xi
— 10 x 30 inches — oil on canvas
— copyright Dawn Chandler 2010

The view here is of a fond stretch of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains in Northern New Mexico — most notably a section of Philmont range, starting with Urraca Mesa on the far left followed by the north side of Tooth Ridge jutting in at an angle.

My friend Douglas took the panoramic photograph that this photo is based on. I've been cursing him ever since he sent me the photo. What a struggle trying to get the color of those mountains and the highlights upon them right! [Perpetual thought to self while painting: "What the heck color IS that anyway?!?"] I can assure you that whatever colors you think they are, you're wrong, because I tried them and they didn't look right! Ack!

And then the sky posed a further challenge: a perfectly clean and crisp gradient of white to blue, without a fleck of anything save a short line of rose clouds near the peaks. I painted it just like it appears in the photo, with a smooth clean surface, but found it.....boring. So I went it with some denser paint and a loose hand, adding some texture to the sky, as well as a larger cloud presence. The result? A much more satisfying and lively surface, and an ultimately more convincing atmospheric feel to the sky.

10.06.2010 ~ taos mountain sunset

2010-10-06T08:50:00.004-06:00

taos mountain sunset light (winter)
10 panorama ix
— 12 x 16 inches — oil on canvas
— copyright Dawn Chandler 2010

There's something sensual about the curves of the Taos foothills, when banked in snow. Though the surface is icy, in the glow of the setting sun, the folds and contours radiate warmth.

I guess come winter, that's what we all do, except our warmth radiates from the inside.

09.23.2010 ~ summer storm breaking over rayado canyon

2010-09-23T07:04:00.006-06:00

summer storm breaking over rayado canyon
10 panorama x
— 10 x 20 inches — oil on canvas
— copyright Dawn Chandler 2010

I admit that I love this painting. For I think it captures on a relatively small scale the "big sky" and "land of enchantment" realities of the landscape out here — those very qualities that haunt the dreams and imagination of anyone who has ever been to New Mexico.

The view here is from the Miami Lane, the dirt road that runs perpendicular to the Philmont range of mountains — about 7 miles east of the Ranch and Cimarron. I took the photo that this is based on several years ago, on a beautiful June evening. We're looking west toward Rayado Canyon....

I've done several paintings based on this scene, this one being my favorite, so far.

I'm thinking this one definitely needs to be done on a larger scale....

09.20.2010 ~ evening in the sandias, ii

2010-09-20T19:29:00.007-06:00

evening in the sandias, ii
10 panorama vi
— 12 x 16 inches — oil on canvas
— copyright Dawn Chandler 2010

Here again, the evening sun casting an almost metallic-like glow to the Sandias. The sagebrush, desert grasses and cactus varying in hues of silver, copper, gold, ocre, umber.

My favorite part of this painting is the couple of small brushmarks of orange in the sky, suggesting a glimmer of highlighted clouds breaking through. That, and further above, where blue sky breaks through the mass of purple-gray clouds:

09.18.2010 ~ evening in the sandias, i

2010-09-18T06:00:00.008-06:00

evening in the sandias
10 panorama viii
— 12 x 16 inches — oil on canvas
— copyright Dawn Chandler 2010

I've come to love the trails of the Sandia Mountains that grace Albuquerque's eastern edge. Supposedly they are named "Sandia" — the Spanish word for "watermelon" — because, when soaked in the light of the setting sun, they take on the deep amethyst color of watermelon. More often though I find the color of Albuquerque's evening mountains to glow hues of orange or copper.

Here is looking north from the Copper Trail, on one such fiery evening. Intriguing to me is the contrast between the hard, rugged mountains, and the delicate, soft clouds. Note the distant mountain on the right: that's all "underpainting." I had intended to paint over that thin wash with denser paint, but after building up the areas around it, I realized I didn't need to cover it up. The sketchy umber underpaint described the distant craggy peak just right.
I love it when that happens.

09.14.2010 ~ taos mountain sunset (first snow)

2010-09-14T18:44:00.005-06:00

taos mountain sunset (first snow)
10 panorama vii
— 10 x 20 inches — oil on canvas
— copyright Dawn Chandler 2010

A rainbow of colors....and yet it's real. For those who have never been to New Mexico and wonder what people are talking about when they speak of "the light" out here, this is it. Nothing quite like Taos Mountain capturing the light of the setting sun, especially when there' some fresh snow on the peak. And here it is from one of my favorite view points (and everyone else's) — the edge of that beautiful expansive field that lies north between Hwy 64 and the mountains in El Prado.

I think my favorite part of this painting is something you can't really see in this photo (see detail below): It's where when I was scraping some of the bluey-purple paint across the sky with my palette knife, I accidentally left two "shadows" of the knife's edge visible in the sky. Actually, to call it an "accident" is incorrect; I surely saw the marks but decided to leave them. Evidence of the artist's tools.

09.13.2010 — the panoramas

2010-09-13T17:59:00.008-06:00

Over the course of the next few days I'll be posting some horizontally-aligned, traditional landscape paintings done in oil. Though I occasionally do some horizontal landscapes (and have even posted a few this summer), the horizontal composition remains fairly unusual for me. Rather, I've established a bit of a reputation for vertically- or squarely-formatted paintings.

So why the rash of horizontal landscapes? Because I've received a commission, that's why. :)

Collector-friends have requested a large horizontally-formatted landscape to adorn a spacious wall of their beautiful dining room. The room is lovely and warm, decorated as it is with a Frank Lloyd Wright/Mission flair. My friends are seeking a peaceful scene, and are drawn to the warm colors they've seen in some of my other paintings. Beyond this, they are open to whatever I might come up with.

So I'm creating a selection of small landscapes that fit (more or less) these parameters. With any luck I'll hit upon something they really like, and will then do a much larger version to grace their dining room wall. It's a fun and exciting project that I've been working off and on for the past few weeks.

I'm pleased to be making strides with these little landscapes. Here are a two panoramas that I completed earlier this summer and posted here already, but which happen to fall into the parameters mentioned above — namely, peaceful + warm colors. Fine as these paintings are, they don't quite fit the bill of what I have in mind for my friends. More sky, I think: they need more sky. Still, I'll include these in the portfolio that I'll be sharing with my friends.

baldy sunset (10 panorama, ii)
— 10 x 20 inches — oil on canvas
— copyright Dawn Chandler 2010

end of the day over the philmont range (10 panorama, v)
— 10 x 20 inches — oil on canvas
— copyright Dawn Chandler 2010

One more panorama that I posted earlier. While this one doesn't really fall under the parameters outlined above (too much bright blue probably for what they are looking for), it's one of my favorites. I think it captures well the expansive feeling of the landscape, the warmth of the day, and the building clouds.

midday on the range (10 panorama, iv)
— 8 x 16 inches — oil on canvas
— copyright Dawn Chandler 2010

Tomorrow, some new panoramas!

08.30.2010 ~ philmont summer, xii — evening horses

2010-08-30T07:19:00.000-06:00

— evening horses — philmont summer, xii
— 6 x 6 inches — oil on panel — from the daily painting series
— copyright Dawn Chandler 2010

This is a view that inspires me every time I witness it: horses grazing in the pasture that runs along Hwy 21 and sits just north of Philmont's basecamp, between the staff parking lot and the Cito Road. Cottonwoods edge the field on the north and east sides, while the west edge fades upwards into the long spine of Tooth Ridge.When the day is done and the shadows are long and there's horse out there....well, it's a poetic scene.
On this summer's eve, there was an orange tinge to the evening light, casting a veil of warmth over the landsscape. (It glows in the painting but is less apparent here in the photograph of the painting).
That's Black Mountain there in the background.

08.27.2010 ~ unrequited...contemplation....renewal

2010-08-27T06:59:00.011-06:00

"unrequited trilogy — unrequited, contemplation, renewal"
— 8 x 8 inches (each) — mixed media on panel
— copyright Dawn Chandler 2006-2010

My "Unrequited Trilogy" which I first created a few years ago, when I was in a different place emotionally and spiritually. Indeed, looking back, I hardly recognize that person who first created these. The work carries still, but fortunately that former self has been left behind.

These paintings are significant to me because — as I recall — their creation reacquainted me (after several years) with the joy of combining painting and collage and working in a quasi-abstract manner. It was also through these that I started to play around more with acrylic paints and some of the incredible new mediums out there that can be combined with other media to make really interesting layers and textures. The combination of those factors, and the mental space I was in at the time, enabled me to begin to take seriously the way my art could become a valuable compass for me in navigating my internal emotional landscape.

As with so much of my art that got stored away in my move last year, I had forgotten about these paintings until just recently, when I went searching through boxes trying to find something else. It was a small pleasure to discover them again...and to reflect on the journey traveled since creating them.

Spurred by a whim, I've gone back into these a bit — just a touch here and there. ...Bringing them out from the uncertainty and pain of the past, to a place of renewal. A new life.

Unrequited, I
Unrequited, II — Contemplation
Unrequited, III — Renewal

"unrequited — trilogy"
— 8 x 8 inches (each panel) — mixed media on panel
— copyright Dawn Chandler 2006 - 2010

08.23.2010 ~ end of day over the philmont range

2010-08-23T19:07:00.002-06:00

philmont panorama, v
— 10 x 20 inches — oil on canvas
— copyright Dawn Chandler 2010

End of a June day, looking west to the Philmont mountain range. That highest peak is Black Mountain.

I created this painting partly to test out the image to see if it's one I want to do on a much larger scale. Initially, my main interest was in the foreground and trying to give a sense of the tapestry of flora there in those Colfax County grasslands. (Those whitish grasses that catch the evening light and shine like gold are especially intriguing to my painter's eye.) I was also intrigued by the way the landscape appears to fade to the right as one's eye moves closer to the position of the sun.

I've about decided that if I were to recreate this scene on a larger scale, I'd make room for much more sky, so that the sky:land ratio is at least 2:1 or even 3:1. Right now, the canvas/composition is split almost perfectly in half horizontally, with a line dividing the distance (sky + mountains) and the flatlands of the fore- and middle-ground. It's a bit too evenly balanced for my taste. Though it's a peaceful evening, I'm craving a little more drama to the picture, and some 'Big Sky' might just do the trick.

08.20.2010 — miranda meadow

2010-08-20T07:18:00.009-06:00

— miranda meadow — philmont summer, xi
— 6 x 6 inches — oil on panel — from the daily painting series
— copyright Dawn Chandler 2010

Back to landscape for a bit.
After a couple of frustrating outcomes with my little 6 x 6 paintings, to my surprise I quite suddenly created one that I love — this one of Baldy from Miranda Meadow. This is a view I return to frequently in my landscape paintings, for the meadow at Miranda is without question one of the most lovely in Northern New Mexico. Indeed, just about anyone who has ever been to this spot shares my reverence for this place.

But back to painting.
I began this painting as I begin all of my landscapes: by rather sloppily slapping down some paint (usually dark colors at first) with a large brush. My aim at this stage is to get in the basic forms and structure of the composition, with the intention of moving in later with smaller brushes and more color to etch out some details.
But with this piece, after just a few bold strokes of my large brush, I had the essential form of the landscape down and — WOW! — there it was! The landscape was complete! I suddenly realized that no further detail was needed, for it's all here.

I love that.

Hmmm....'Wonder if I could achieve this on a much larger scale....? May have to give it a shot.

08.19.2010 — making my way

2010-08-19T08:14:00.005-06:00

"making my way"
— 10 x 15.5 inches — oil on linen
— copyright Dawn Chandler 2010

I don't remember the origin of this painting, or even when I started it. But I do know that it's rooted in a "traditional" landscape that didn't work out. Seems I've been working on it off and on for a good year or two: adding paint, scraping it away, adding more, then putting the whole thing away for days or weeks or months. Then pulling it out again. Finally I finished it earlier this summer.

This painting grows out of darkness, but there's a light of promise and hope.
'Traveling a difficult journey, but coming through stronger, wiser. Changed, positively.
Suggestions of landscape — trees like beacons. Archways, as if making sacred the journey itself.

Recently, I had a brief but profound conversation about my paintings with a fey stranger, who was clearly moved by my work. When I commented that "arches keep appearing in my work, but I don't really know why or where they come from," he said to me without a moment's hesitation and a sparkle in his eye, "It's because you are an Opening. You are providing an opening for others to go through."

08.16.2010 ~ Cathedral

2010-08-16T18:02:00.010-06:00

Two or three year ago I began a series of mixed media paintings which I've come to call my "Passion Series." Combining passages of abstraction with recognizable imagery, these are the landscapes of my soul. The series is ongoing, one that I continue to work on to this day. It's through these paintings that I work out and make visual the things that are on my mind: the joys and sorrows, trials and frustrations, celebrations and enticements that make up Life. Sometimes a painting starts out with a very specific story to tell. More often they commence with no end result in mind; meaning and expression simply evolve. Each painting in the Passion series measures 16" x 8" and is created on panel.

Two years ago I exhibited the first of the Passion series paintings in an exhibit in Taos. The painting shown here, Cathedral, is the most abstract of them all and is the only one created entirely with oils. For these reasons it has always been one of my favorites of the series, though I wondered if anyone else would appreciate it as much as I do.

Turns out they do, for a lovely woman from California and her partner ended up buying it. I remember when they came into the exhibition, they stayed quite a while, and we talked for some time discussing the paintings. I was pleased when they expressed an interest in Cathedral. I remember well our conversation, for they sensed a feeling of uplift in the piece — a sense of coming out of troubled times. Resilience. That sense spoke to them, as it did to me, and they ended up buying the painting.

These cool women have been on my mailing list, so they've gotten occasional cards and announcements from me, but really we haven't been in touch since their purchase. Oddly, just the other day, I was thinking of them and their painting.

Then yesterday, quite to my surprise, one of these lovely women visited me at the New Mexico Artisans' Market on her way up to Taos. She spoke of how fond she is of her painting they bought, and the fact that the painting increased in significance for her soon after they bought it. For not long after they acquired the painting, their beloved black dog died.

In the lower left corner of Cathedral there's a passage of black, and she came to see that passage as a symbol of of her good dog, and a source of comfort to her.

It just goes to show that we can bring our own stories to the art we gaze upon. I love that this painting allowed me to express something very personal, then, that someone else could appreciate it, and that they in turn have brought their own meaning to the work. This friend is now interested in acquiring another painting of mine to compliment Cathedral. Her timing couldn't be better, for I've lately been feeling the desire to work on some new "landscapes of my soul."

08.11.2010 — abstracted italia

2010-08-11T08:47:00.004-06:00

untitled
— 8 x 16 inches — oil on linen
— copyright Dawn Chandler 2010

Remember yesterday I said that sometimes when I give my studio a thorough tidying, I'm sometimes pleasantly surprised to find paintings I had forgotten about? Here is one such painting. I had worked off and on on this for a long long time, and finally added the finishing touches to it late this spring.

The evolution of this canvas (and others in this yet unnamed series) is rooted in tradition, for buried neath layers of oil paint lies a "traditional" landscape painting — one with which I was not satisfied. So I started to transform the recognizable landscape into something more abstract, by adding and scraping away and adding again and rubbing out layers of paint. I love the adventure of this process, and never have any planned notion of where it's going to take me.

This piece, in it's quietly romantic way, reminds me of Italy. Perhaps my friend, Chipman, last night sensed this, for of my dozens of paintings, this is the piece he decided he must have. He and his family have just moved back to the United States from Italia. This painting is so new (few have seen it) that it is as yet untitled. In fact, I'm so fond of this piece and in evokes such a feeling of peacefulness, that I had kind of thought I might keep it for myself. But Chip's a good friend with a keen eye for art; as I wrapped it up for him, I invited him to name it. Perhaps you'd like to offer suggestions?

08.10.2010 ~ studio visit

2010-08-10T16:32:00.004-06:00

I am having a studio visit today — collector friends who are visiting Santa Fe and want to see what I've been up to with my paintings. Such visits are always a great excuse to tidy up my work space and review what I've been working on. Usually I end up being pleasantly surprised by coming across paintings I had forgotten about.

So I've filled the otherwise empty walls of my studio with paintings today. My studio now feels a bit like a 19th-century atelier. Perhaps I should serve absinthe to my guests?

08.08.2010 — rayado country road

2010-08-08T18:46:00.005-06:00

philmont summer, ix
— 6 x 6 inches — oil on panel — from the daily painting series
— copyright Dawn Chandler 2010

Late morning along the road through Rayado country, from Zastrow to Carson Meadows.

Here's another one that was challenging. Why? Because there were really no distinct shadows. It was close to noon, and also a little bit hazy, so there wasn't much in the way of shadows. Without distinct shadows to help describe volume and visual contrast and interest, I find the picture can often go flat. Also, in the middle of the day the colors can get bleached out, especially out here in the high desert where the sun is so intensely bright.

For these reasons this picture isn't as visually rich to me as it might'a/could'a been had I been able to get some photos at a different time of day — say early morning or evening.

I guess though that not everyone is bothered by the "shortcomings" that I see here, for this little painting sold just a few days after I did it.
SCORE! :)

08.05.2010 — sunset clouds over urraca

2010-08-06T07:15:00.006-06:00

philmont summer, viii
— 6 x 6 inches — oil on panel — from the daily painting series
— copyright Dawn Chandler 2010

Evening storm clouds breaking over the eastern edge of Urraca Mesa.

I struggled with this painting and remain not quite satisfied with it. Trying to get that certain shade of pink in the clouds was a challenge. And that break in the clouds.....All the clouds were dark purple-gray or pink, except for one cloud that was part way back, revealed in the break in the clouds. This cloud was the only one that was catching the sunlight directly, and it radiated a brilliant white-tipped edge. I've attempted to render it here, but haven't caught it as well as I had hoped. The paint just feels a little over-worked (which it is!). Just not as fresh as I strive for.
But it's not bad.

I'm playing catch-up here with some paintings I did a few weeks ago, this being one of them. More coming!

08.04.2010 — miranda autumn

2010-08-04T20:12:00.009-06:00

miranda autumn, i — winding down
— 12 x 12 inches — oil on canvas
— copyright Dawn Chandler 2010

I’m nowhere near ready for summer to end, and yet I couldn’t help but paint an autumn scene today. Though I have abundant new summertime landscape photographs to choose from, I just had a strong desire to escape into this scene — one that’s been calling me since last October when I took this photo. 'Guess I just had a hankering to carve Baldy out of the sky and dapple some sun-kissed leaves. Or maybe I just felt like communing with my friends, Jonathan and Roanne, who are pictured here conversing as they sip thermos coffee in front of the Miranda Cabin.
We had just completed our climb of Baldy Mountain (that peak looming 12,441 high in the background), and were winding down in the afternoon sunshine at Miranda. Despite gale-force winds on the saddle and summit, it was a grand hike. Weak coffee never tasted so good as it did there in the Miranda Meadow, as the late afternoon sunlight warmed our aching bodies.

It’s pretty rare that I include figures in my landscapes. Not sure really why that is. I likely avoided them early on in my painting career because they seemed too hard to pull off — the landscape alone was challenging enough. Anymore it’s largely because when I’m in the landscape, I’m often alone. But on the few occasions when I have included figures in my paintings — always hiking scenes, interestingly enough — I’ve enjoyed the challenge of adding the human element. Too, I’m appreciating more the way in which including figures alters the narrative of the scene.

Hmmm....wouldn’t be at all surprised if I start including figures in my landscapes more often.

Here's a close-up of my friends, rendered with just a few quick brush strokes. As usual, it's through suggestion rather than closely-rendered detail that I'm striving to describe specifics.

I admit that I'm very satisfied with this painting; it came together quickly. Luckily I had the benefit of a strong photograph to work from. As usual the images here on the web don't do the color of the painting justice.

07.14.2010 — sunset over baldy

2010-07-14T18:31:00.007-06:00

sunset over baldy
— 24 x 24 inches — oil on canvas
— copyright Dawn Chandler 2010

This painting is from that evening in early June — just a few weeks ago — when my friend and I caught the most glorious sunset on our way over to the Ranch after having dinner at the James. That far distant peak nearly center is Baldy Mountain......

I’m a bit surprised by how this painting turned out. I think my painting style — at least when it comes to my landscapes in oil — are usually a little more painterly than this (Or am I just imagining that?). By painterly I mean brush strokes that are kind of loose and textural. Yet this painting turned out astonishingly realistic — much more so than I was striving for or intended........And yet. There it is.

What’s interesting about this is that this larger version (24” x 24”) ended up being much easier to paint than the small (6” x 6”) study for it. In fact, the study frustrated me so much, that I finally transformed it into an “abstraction” (which, as it turned out, I was immensely satisfied with. So was someone else, who ended up buying it a couple of days ago.)
Here’s the (sold) study, post abstraction:

philmont summer, viii — sunset over baldy (abstracted)
— 6 x 6 inches — oil on panel
— copyright Dawn Chandler 2010

What was frustrating me about the study is that the clouds were turning green. That’s because I was painting alla prima — wet paint into wet paint. (Remember that that's one of the points of doing these little "daily" paintings: I try to complete the whole painting in a day). The orange had just enough yellow in it that, when painted over or into the blue, was turning green. Grrrr. My efforts were further frustrated by the fact that I was trying to paint in my usual landscape manner of dark to light, and that just wasn’t working for some reason. The edges of the clouds were too harsh, and when I’d try to soften them, I’d get green.

So, on the larger painting, I reversed my usual technique and painted from light to dark, and that worked. Brilliantly. I also let the yellow/orange layer set and dry a bit before moving in with the blues and purples and — Voila! — no green clouds.

07.06.2010 — midday on the range — panorama

2010-07-06T20:04:00.007-06:00

philmont panorama, iv — midday on the range
— 8 x 16 inches — oil on canvas
— copyright Dawn Chandler 2010

This painting is an expanded view of the scene in the painting I posted yesterday of midday behind Philmont's Cattle Headquarters:

philmont summer, vii — midday on the range
— 6 x 6 inches — oil on canvas
— copyright Dawn Chandler 2010

Overall I think the expanded version is a more successful painting. In the first one, I think I painted the far mesas a bit too dark, whereas in this version I lightened them up just a bit, giving the painting a little more atmospheric depth.

Also, I think I got the suggestion of the lay of the land in the foreground a bit better in this one.

And finally, I love the volume of the clouds here — especially that one that rises up like an anvil, as though chiseled.

07.05.2010 ~ midday on the range

2010-07-05T15:13:00.004-06:00

philmont summer, vii — midday on the range
— 6 x 6 inches — oil on panel — from the daily painting series
— copyright Dawn Chandler 2010

Over at Philmont and back behind Cattle Headquarters....A few weeks ago two friends and I were out there in the blistering heat digging up a cholla cactus (...with permission, of course). Apparently 'mad dogs and Englishmen' are not the only ones fool enough to go out in the midday sun..

Still, the view of the plains and distant mesas was simply stunning!
This is my first attempt at a painting of that view. Stay tuned for another.

07.01.2010 ~ baldy from wilson mesa

2010-07-01T15:42:00.004-06:00

baldy from wilson mesa
— 8 x 16 inches — oil on canvas
— copyright Dawn Chandler 2010

This is my third attempt in a year of painting this view from a specific photo. The first two attempts didn't work out at all (the paintings have been "recycled").
The photo I'm working from is a bit odd — it has a certain surreal light to it, and it had Baldy dead center, with the peak and landscape in perfect sculpted focus. Not even a ripple on the water. What was happening was that each of the previous times I tried to capture it I got too caught up in the details. Probably was using too small of a brush, which only made matters worse.

I put the photo away for a few months and came back to it a couple of weeks ago. I selected a nice large brush and...well, something just 'clicked' and it practically painted itself. The colors are different from those in the photo, and I've left out the details, simplifying the shapes. It works.

06.30.2010 ~ spirit note ~ leaving home, only to find it again

2010-06-30T20:02:00.006-06:00

leaving home, only to find it again
— 8 x 8 inches — watercolor — spirit note 35
— copyright Dawn Chandler 2010 —

This last day of June, one more Spirit Note before returning to posts of landscapes tomorrow.
Here’s the last of my 2009 Spirit Notes — this one clearly a reflection of my thoughts last autumn as I prepared to move and create elsewhere a new home for myself....

This piece illustrates well my love of the use of writing and text as a visual texture. (And look at that — "text" and "texture" — hmmm....turns out they both stem from the Latin verb textere meaning to weave. How cool is that?). In this case the meaning of the words is of less importance (perhaps...) than their visual vibration. Yet not knowing what the words say adds a certain mystery.

This little painting feels heavy with autumnal moodiness. Yet ultimately I find it a hopeful piece. It's as though an evening storm is coming, but in the morning we'll be starting off on a new adventure, with clear skies and determination.

06.29.2010 ~ road trip trilogy

2010-06-29T20:07:00.009-06:00

road trip trilogy
— 8 x 8 inches — watercolor — spirit notes 32, 33, 34
— copyright Dawn Chandler 2010 —

This trio of Spirit Notes — like yesterday’s painting — dates from last year. These I painted shortly after returning home from an extensive road trip — hence the title. Early in Septembe, My Good Man and I drove from New Mexico to South Dakota for a glass of ice water at Wall Drug (....google it). Since we were making the trip anyway, we decided we might as well camp along the way and check out the Black Hills and Badlands while we were there.

I was struck by the austere and quiet beauty of the land, particularly in northwestern Nebraska and southern South Dakota.

I remember that we spent a particularly fine night camping in the Badlands. We had a small spot under a little tree in the center of a designated campground, where we were surrounded by dozens of other campers in tents or campers. You might think it would be annoying to have so little privacy, and yet...the night was clear....the moon was full....a steady but soft warm breeze tingled the leaves of our tree and kept comfort.....all around us our fellow campers, if they spoke at all, spoke quietly, in softened, respectful voices. There was a remarkably pleasant surrealism to the whole experience. I won't forget it.

In the spirit of this and all road trips, these three Spirit Notes attempt to describe visually the idea of the crazy-quilt of memories and experiences of different landscapes as they “flash upon that inward eye which is the bliss of solitude.” It's a concept I'd like to play around with some more in my paintings.

Alas, the colors of these watercolors are not conveyed here well; the original paintings are much more colorful than these poor images would have you think.

06.27.2010 ~ spirit note ~ testing her wings

2010-06-27T22:15:00.001-06:00

testing her wings
— 8 x 8 inches — watercolor — spirit note 31
— copyright Dawn Chandler 2010 —

I’ve just returned to New Mexico after spending the better part of a week in Rochester, New York. Sometimes I become so used to my environment here in the Land of Enchantment, that I almost forget how diverse the landscape of this beautiful country is. What a treat to be ankle-deep in green grass, run along verdant toe paths of an historic canal, and commune with flocks of ducks and waterfowl among deciduous plants and trees. Even the press of humidity was a welcome change.

I was in NY visiting beloved friends and helping them transition into a new home. They are all now starting a new chapter of their lives — an experience that is surely mixed with equal amounts of eagerness and excitement as well as reluctance and trepidation. I am all too familiar with these emotions, having recently moved from my own home and familiar town, to a new place.

The above Spirit Note is a little painting I did last autumn, but never had a chance to post it here. I did it at some point in the weeks leading up to my move, and had forgotten all about it until recently when I came across it again. The painting is much more literal than most of my other Spirit Notes. I hadn’t planned it that way — I remember that it started as a simple wash of yellow, shaped like a chevron. But as I added more colors and shapes, a figure began to appear, and then a suggestion of a narrative.....all in line with the spirit of change and new beginnings.

06.18.2010 ~ urraca morning

2010-06-18T06:37:00.006-06:00

urraca morning
— 14 x 20 inches — oil on linen
— copyright Dawn Chandler 2010 —

Stepping back and taking in a few other vistas at the Ranch — here’s one of Urraca Mesa.
I touched up this painting just a few days ago, though I had actually painted the piece three or four years ago. As fond as I was with the painting when I completed it, looking at it recently with fresh eyes, I decided it needed something — a bit more sparkle, perhaps.
So I lightened the sky and touched up the mesa and foreground a bit. That did the trick.

What's a bit remarkable about this painting is the linen on which it was painted — it's a very coarsely textured fabric (see detail). Superb quality, but quite unusual to paint on, especially in contrast to the smooth panels I've been working on of late. Reminds me a bit of the feel of working in pastel on the textured papers I like to work with in that medium.

Anyhow...

I find this scene and its bright blue morning sky to be uplifting and inspiring — makes me want to throw on my day pack hike up to that mesa and spend the day exploring — just as soon as I have another cup of tea.

Below, a few details...

06.16.2010 ~ study for philmont panorama 2

2010-06-16T10:50:00.008-06:00

baldy sunset panorama
— 10 x 20 inches — oil on canvas
— copyright Dawn Chandler 2010

Here is a more panoramic depiction of last Monday night’s sunset view in Cimarron, with Baldy in the background — an expansion of the little 6 x 6 Daily painting I did last week.
Kinda’ funny as I look at this for here was a breathtakingly colorful sunset, and yet so far in my two paintings of that evening I’ve allowed the sky to take up less than a third of the picture plane! Guess I'm subconsciously compelled more to still try to master the subtle coloration and forms of the shadows. But there’s something inviting in their own right to those dark hills...I can easily feel lost — pleasantly so — in those dark, fragrant mysterious folds of the land.....

This canvas measures 10 x 20 inches. Though it's a completed painting in itself, I'm calling it a "study" simply because I’m considering attempting this view again at twice the scale (18 x 36 inches).

Below, a few details....

06.14.2010 ~ santa fe stillness

2010-06-14T08:37:00.007-06:00

santa fe stillness
— 16 x 16 inches — oil on linen
— copyright Dawn Chandler 2010

A couple of weeks ago I looked up from my kitchen sink to see an enormous thunderhead blooming over Glorietta Mesa. Rarely in my life have I ever seen anything so magnificently colossal. I went to my balcony and watched as the evening sky colors radiated and transformed before me. As I watched the thunderhead my eye followed the line of clouds to where its formation started shyly in the west. Here my eye paused and my thoughts fell into peacefulness. This, then, is the scene I chose to capture here — that moment of stillness and peacefulness on the edge of the storm.
(The colossal thunderhead is off to the far left, over Glorietta Mesa — out of the picture range of this painting. Soon I'll do a painting of that thunderhead, though I'm sure I'll hardly be able to do it justice.)

Lately most of my oil paintings have been done on cotton canvas or panels, but this one I did on stretched linen. I had forgotten the heavenly feel of my paintbrush on fine linen. What a luscious feeling.

Below, a detail....

06.11.2010 ~ philmont summer, vi — baldy sunset

2010-06-11T16:40:00.005-06:00

philmont summer, vi — baldy sunset
— 6 x 6 inches — oil on panel — from the daily painting series
— copyright Dawn Chandler 2010

Earlier this week I had the good fortune to find myself in Cimarron for two nights, admiring a dazzling sunset show both evenings. Some of you saw my little compact video of the sunset from Monday night, as seen from Hwy 22 and looking out across the sage-dotted hills just north of the Bufffalo Pasture, and south of the Cimarron cemetery.

In this little study I've honed in on the peak of Baldy mountain, as it peaks over the foothills.
Colorwise, my colors are a bit different than those in the photo and video. Though perhaps not evident in this photo here, in my painting, Baldy is much more lavender than in the reference photo. And my clouds lean toward purple rather than the smoky roses we witnessed that night. Yet even with a slight alteration to the palette, I think my interpretation stands on it’s own. Whether or not each color is ‘accurate’ is less important to me than having the piece as a whole pull together as a believable depiction.

I find that — for me, anyway — there are a couple of particularly challenging aspects to pulling off a colorful sunset or sunrise. The first is conveying the vibrancy of intense colors of the sky. Really getting the colors to sing can be tricky. I continue to be surprised by the colors (tubes of paint) required to get the colors just right; more often than not it’s not what I presume, especially when it comes to the oranges and roses. And always there are more muted colors than one might presume on first glance.
It’s these muted colors — the ‘grays’ of the clouds — that keep a sunset from appearing too “sweet.’

The second challenge is teasing out the features and subdued colors of the fore- and middle- grounds, which on first glance can seem simply dark with no color and merely silhouetted again the sky. But this image here is a good example of how the foreground, though dark, is actually rich with passages of smoky emerald and purple-grays.

Looking forward to recreating this scene on a much larger scale.

06.02.2010 — philmont panorama 01

2010-06-02T11:14:00.012-06:00

baldy from miranda meadow
— 18 x 36 inches — oil on canvas
— copyright Dawn Chandler 2010

Thanks to some inquiries lately from a few of my landscape patrons for larger-scaled work, I decided to pull out some bigger canvases and get to work. Feels utterly wonderful painting big again, with a brush larger than my fingernail.

To kick things off I decided to start with that quintessential Philmont view: Baldy from the bottom of Miranda meadow. I’ve done variations of this view in pastel, watercolor, and small oil paintings, but none so large as this. Good fun! As I worked my brush across the vast real estate of the canvas, I could just feel myself hiking the paths that weave through this beloved landscape....taking in the smell of ponderosa and sage, and feeling the warmth of the hot sun and cool shadows across my face.....

05.31.10 ~ philmont summer. v ~ miranda grove

2010-05-31T21:12:00.004-06:00

philmont summer, v
— 6 x 6 inches — oil on panel — from the daily painting series
— copyright Dawn Chandler 2010

Back to Miranda to commune with the aspens......

It’s always a challenge trying to figure out just what color the trunks of the aspen trees are. We tend to think of aspens as white — and often they are. But just as often, they are not. Thanks to the chlorophyll in their bark, aspens are often shades of green and grey.* Put them in shadow, and they are any color BUT white! Indeed, in shadow they often take on a bluish and purplish cast. Makes it fun and challenging for an artist.

There’s something invitingly somnolent about the verdant grass and leaves, and cool shadows of this scene....makes me want to curl up and take a nap.

* Special thanks to Mary Stuever — friend, author and New Mexico Forester Extraordinaire — for teaching me more about aspen trees.

05.25.2010 ~ philmont summer, iv

2010-05-25T17:18:00.006-06:00

philmont summer, iv
— 6 x 6 inches — oil on panel — from the daily painting series
— copyright Dawn Chandler 2010

A bit of a hazy morning in Northern New Mexico. This painting is based on a photo I took one morning in my first year or two after moving out here, when I used to spend a lot of time in the hamlet of Miami, New Mexico, a tiny community that sits a few miles east of Rayado. It was a warm summer morning when I took this photo; we’re looking west to the mountains of Philmont.
This scene may seem wanting to those in need of more drama. But I’ve always liked the simplicity of the color and composition in the original photo. The muted purples of the sky contrasting — but enhanced by — the greenish gold of the land....It’s a color combination that sings for me.
Come to think of it, one of the first landscapes (a pastel) I created after moving out here some sixteen years ago was based on this quiet scene.

I did this little painting a week or two ago. It came together quickly; I like to looseness and ‘sketchiness’ of it.

05.20.2010 ~ philmont summer, iii

2010-05-20T17:36:00.005-06:00

philmont summer, iii — summer evening, looking west to philmont
— 6 x 6 inches — oil on panel — from the daily painting series
— copyright Dawn Chandler 2010

'Had a hankering to do this view from the Miami Lane on a diminutive scale...(That's Rayado Peak and Fowler Mesa to the left....)

The challenge here was in pulling off those plants catching the light in the foreground. In actuality, there were many more of those plants, but when I put them all in, they didn't look right, becoming a band of unappealing visual texture across the bottom. So I wiped out most of them, filled back in with deeper darks, and was then much more satisfied with the result. Now they "pop" visually and, through less, suggest more.

05.16.2010 ~ philmont summer, ii

2010-05-16T06:01:00.007-06:00

philmont summer, ii — midday among the aspens
— 6 x 6 inches — oil on panel — from the daily painting series
— copyright Dawn Chandler 2010

I just had to immerse myself in GREEN for a while. No better way to do that in the Rocky Mountains than to go back to summertime aspens.....

Aspens are challenging to capture, because their greeness is so intense, so vibrant. Recreate that accurately seems to stretch artistic license. And yet that green is real.
It's difficult, too, to convey the delicacy of aspens without getting caught up in too much detail of every fine leaf.
I love when the aspens have a backdrop of evergreen, for visually that contrast of bright green again the dark curtain of evergreen makes the aspens pop. But it also adds to that challenging intensity of color.

Here's my first attempt of the year at capturing the aspens. I'm working from a photo here — surely near Miranda....

05.11.2010 ~ of my soul

2010-05-11T13:51:00.006-06:00

of my soul — mourning that which i never had
— 6 x 6 inches — mixed media on panel
— copyright Dawn Chandler 2010

Sometimes it's best to let the work speak for itself.

05.07.2010 ~ dixon cottage

2010-05-07T08:05:00.006-06:00

dixon cottage (miya's place)
— 8 x 10 inches — oil on canvas
— copyright Dawn Chandler 2010

Two weeks ago I found myself in Dixon, visiting my friend and fellow artist, Miya, of Miya Pottery. We had a grand afternoon driving around the back roads of that little hamlet, seeking out and photographing signs of spring. I took dozens of photos, yet my favorites were those of Miya’s studio and gallery which are housed in a charming little adobe farmhouse. Here’s the north end of her studio, basking in the late afternoon sun.

The biggest challenge for me with this image was trying to get the large window. It wasn't working, and I realized it was because I was painting it too literally — getting too caught up in the sharp edges and trying to perfect proportions. After several attempts, I rubbed it out and tried one more time, aiming for suggestion rather than detail. This time it worked.
I really enjoyed painting this building. The sharp geometry was a pleasant change from the often amorphous forms of nature. I loved applying that goopy, pasty off-white of the walls, and the gray of the metal roof. In much of the foreground and background trees, I left the umber under-painting revealed, rather than paint over it; I love it when I can do that.

05.05.2010 ~ taos spring, i

2010-05-05T18:00:00.004-06:00

taos spring, i — three graces
— 6 x 6 inches — oil on panel — from the daily painting series
— copyright Dawn Chandler 2010

I simply love this line of stately cottonwoods that edges Kit Carson Road/Hwy 64 in Taos. This scene is based on a photo I had taken in early springtime some years ago. I had forgotten about the photo until a few weeks ago when, in the midst of yet another nasty late season visitation from Mother Winter, I was searching with longing for images of springtime. Here, as the sun sinks low in early evening, the leaves of the cottonwood are just beginning to show themselves in wispy tendrils of light green and yellow.

05.03.10 ~ one more winter painting...

2010-05-03T21:10:00.005-06:00

stowe vermont winter, vii — bourne house
— 6 x 6 inches — oil on panel — from the daily painting series
— copyright Dawn Chandler 2010

Since winter has extended her icy grip now into May (we had snow here in New Mexico this past weekend), I may as well take this opportunity to share here my last winter painting of the season. Pictured here is my attempt at capturing a beloved gabled sanctuary: Bourne House. Located in Stowe, Vermont, Bourne House belongs to dear friends, Heather and Scott, who graciously share their getaway with me and other friends. In fact I couldn't post this painting earlier, because it was a surprise gift for them and their generosity.

I don't usually paint structures, though I may change that, for this little painting was good fun to do. Though if I paint Bourne House again, I'm going to insist that my friends paint their house one color — none of this white trim nonsense around every window, door and corner of the house! Sheesh!

4.30.2010 ~ a trio of new mexico landscapes

2010-04-30T15:52:00.005-06:00

— each panel, 6 x 6 inches — oil on panel — from the daily painting series
— copyright Dawn Chandler 2010

I’m pleased to have sold this trio of paintings at last week’s art market. A woman who grew up in Nambe’ bought the suite of them. I wasn’t sure winter scenes would appeal to folks in the springtime, but then again, judging from today’s snow flurries and frigid temperatures, winter is still here!

Seen here: Sunset over Rayado Canyon flanked by two winter scenes of Taos. Northern New Mexico color at it’s best!

4.29.2010 ~ nambe' spring, iii ~ the willows

2010-04-29T10:39:00.005-06:00

nambe' spring, iii
— 6 x 6 inches — oil on panel — from the daily painting series
— copyright Dawn Chandler 2010

One of the beautiful clusters of Nambe' willows on the edge of my favorite field over there. Praise be for the willows, for they seem to be among the first trees to show signs of spring life and color.

4.26.10 ~ nambe' spring, ii

2010-04-26T21:39:00.006-06:00

nambe' spring, ii
— 6 x 6 inches — oil on panel — from the daily painting series
— copyright Dawn Chandler 2010

Another view from my afternoon in Nambe' a couple of weeks ago. We're facing northwest; the mountains in the background are those of the Jemez.

The main challenge in this painting was trying to describe leafless trees without getting caught up in rendering every branch. But how even to begin?

The way I attacked this was to block in the overall shape and mass of the trees with light brown, with no individual branches described. I then daubed in the "negative space" of sky and distant mountains and in doing so began to suggest branches. Later, I accentuated the largest branches individually, with a bit more paint; I scratched in the finest branches with the hard pointed end of a small brush handle.

The effect in the upper branches is rather "feathery"... yet it works. I remain somewhat surprised by — and ultimately very pleased with — the result of this painting, for those trees were initially very daunting.

4.20.2010 ~ springtime abstracted (nambe')

2010-04-20T14:23:00.018-06:00

Mondays are becoming my day to work abstractly.* Weekends find me tied up with my markets, and most other days of the week I’m working — at least part of the day — on my landscapes, the bread and butter of my existence as an artist. But my abstracts* fire off the synapses of a different lobe of my brain and cause me to tap into a deeper part of my being. I love having a whole day in which to focus on them; Monday is becoming the perfect day for that.

I’ve so been enjoying the arrival of spring this season, that yesterday — Monday — I decided to use my recent little landscape of the Nambe' field (see previous post) —

and recreate it on a slightly larger scale, and in mixed media with abstract elements. The literal landscape would be the “jumping off” point for the painting: I’d start developing the landscape and see where the painting goes from there. By completion there may be no signs at all of the initial landscape, or the landscape may be very apparent; I’d just see what develops.
The first step was preparing a panel. I took a 12” x 12” and mounted on it some romanticized images of women from the 19th-century.

Imbued in springtime, with wonderful visual texture, these 19th-century images were just right for my background layer. Over this, with acrylic paint, I started to recreate very loosely the Nambe landscape.

Sometimes the panel would be flat on my table, sometimes I’d prop it upright and let the wet paint dribble and drip.

I’d add more paint, wipe some off, add more. Through this process, I’d constantly look at shapes and relationships of shapes and colors. Inevitably I started seeing archways emerge (a perennial theme in my work of late), and so would go in and tease them out a bit more with a crayon or narrow brush. Wanting to add some ambiguity and visual interest, I started adding collage elements — fragments of ribbon or paper that seem to stand on their own while simultaneously blending in.

Some details:

I'm not sure that this painting is finished yet (though I think it may be). I'll put it away for a few days so as not to look at it, and then return to it and see if I still think it's done, or if I sense that it needs further working. For now though I'm quite satisfied with it, and am eager to do more spring-inspired "abstractions."

*I use the term “abstract” and all of its derivations very loosely when describing this ilk my work. Generally, it’s my mixed media work that I am referring to, some of which, with their apparent recognizable representational elements, aren’t “abstract” at all in a strictly art historical definition. But “abstract” has become a convenient, if imperfect, term to distinguish these works from my more traditional representational landscapes, and so it works for my purposes.

4.17.10 ~ nambe´spring, i

2010-04-17T19:40:00.009-06:00

nambe' sping, i
— 6 x 6 inches — oil on panel — from the daily painting series
— copyright Dawn Chandler 2010

Finally, finally, spring is here! It’s been a long time coming this first quarter of the new year.
And finally, finally I'm back to painting again, after about three weeks off due to the interruptions of travel, visitors and other distractions.
With spring here I eagerly grasp my paint brush again and return to work. After such a protracted winter I am nearly giddy with appreciation at each sign of spring and rebirth.

Living in a new environment, it's interesting observing the signs of the seasons. Here where I live now — in a rather arid and dusty environment that has a certain shaggy austerity to it — the rebirth of spring is (at least so far) less obvious than in the agrarian landscapes found in neighboring communities. Mind you, there are certainly signs of spring here, too, but so far they haven’t been that hit-you-over-the-head kind of exclamation of "SPRING!"

So, with a craving for blatant "springiness" [READ: COLOR], I headed northward yesterday with camera in hand to the bucolic valley and community of Nambe´ to seek — literally — blossoming color.

To my surprise, spring hasn't arrived yet in Nambe´ with the flagrancy I was anticipating. Expecting festoons of color, I found gossamer hints of it: occasional blossoms adding a touch of delicate lace to a backdrop of nuanced grays. Though after my initial disappointment, I began to appreciate the subtle, delicate beauty of these soft grays and hints of pastel hues.

Pictured above then, my first attempt of the year at capturing springtime in northern New Mexico.