Wednesday, November 21, 2007

Somewhere in-between Acoma and Catalina

For the past 4 days I have been working on a new painting of the Acoma Pueblo, in New Mexico. The wash coat has been laid down and I'm carefully drawing out a maze of ladders and pink pueblo walls and ochre coloured earth. My first Acoma Pueblo painting was "Acoma Pueblo, Sunny Day" and it was quickly sold by the Max Gallery in Tucson - shipping out, if I remember correctly, to collectors in Virginia.

My 13 paintings currently on display at the Max Gallery in Tucson are due to come down shortly, but many are still featured on my website at . Another show is in the works for the Tubac Arts Festival, in February. I am also featured in the November 2007 issue of Southwest Art Magazine, in the "Best of the West" section.

For me the attraction of the settlements of our Native Americans is more than just nostalgic - I feel the most alive when I visit these places. They are unlike anything that modern society builds. In many cases, they are quiet, solemn places where you are alone with the wind and the blue sky above you. I feel ecstatic, amazingly alive in places like Acoma and Taos. My eyes are filled with images of lovely, organically shaped Pueblos that seem to rise up out of the earth, like they are a part of the earth - a continuation of it.

This morning I visited Catalina State Park, just down the road from where I live in Oro Valley, Arizona. It was a cool, crisp morning and the sun had not yet peaked above the ridges of the giant Catalinas that loom above our part of town. The entire landscape was lit, as if by a cool blue-gray shadow, and the rays of the early morning sun emerged slowly from behind the rocky mountain peaks. Just as I entered the park, I saw a dark form dart across the road. Driving up to that spot slowly I looked around, and off to my right was a dusty peppered colored coyote, slowly making his way through a field of short grass. I slowed down and watched his progress - and then saw another car approaching from a distance. The coyote took one look at me, and then one look at the approaching car - timed his run perfectly, and darted in front of both of us, back to the other side of the road.

I love coyotes dearly, for their nighttime cackling howls, and for their incredible resourcefulness and cunning. A coyote seems to always do what is necessary, and that seems like a great lesson for all of us.

Back to the easel! Much 'necessary' work to be done! Happy thanksgiving!

*All images are Copyright Neil Myers 2007

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