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Category: Santa Fe Plein Air Fiesta

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Friends helping friends

We’ve all done our best. Now we sit back and wait.

Not what you like to see an hour before you’re handing in.
I opened my box of frames when I arrived last weekend, but I didn’t take out the items and unpack them; they were still in the manufacturer’s packaging. Anyway, I like the US post office as a shipper, so I wasn’t worried.
That meant I was blindsided on Thursday morning when all three frames turned out to have cracked corners. I called Jane Chapin to ask her if there was a Michaels in Santa Fe. Instead, she directed me to a shelf to the left of the door in her own studio. It was such a smooth solution that I barely had time to worry. It will save me money on the return shipping, since she can just pop out any unsold work and mail it back to me in a padded envelope.
Occasionally someone will challenge my characterization of these events as ‘competitions.’ They prefer to think of them as sales events. But whenever there are prizes, there is competition. Unlike ice-skating, however, there’s very little knee-capping in the plein air world. For one thing, it’s a small community. Even if we’re not friends yet, we have friends in common.
Apple tree swing, by Carol L. Douglas, courtesy Kelpie Gallery. I’m gonna try the Pecos apple tree again today.
One of the painters at this event has Parkinson’s. (How she paints as beautifully as she does is beyond me.) She is a tiny thing, and she has been helping me up and down steps all week. She’s appointed herself my keeper. We were at a party in town Wednesday when she realized that she’d forgotten her meds. If you know Parkinson’s, you know that missing a dose is like falling off a cliff. Now I’ve appointed myself to remind her about her meds. We just met on Friday night, but now we’re friends helping friends.
Yesterday I intended to spend my spare time painting an apple tree down the road. However, I spent it unsuccessfully trying to file the claim for my damaged frames. This morning my husband, back in Rockport, managed to file it online.
This view from my studio window has gone to live in New Mexico.
As for which paintings I submitted, it ended up being El camino hacia el pueblo, La casa de los abuelitos,and Castigando del caballo muerto. I probably received twenty messages about the choices after my post, with a heavy contingent favoring Dry Wash, but I’d already filled out the paperwork.
Every one of these messages were from professional painters and gallerists. The takeaway message is that even at a high level of expertise, ‘good,’ ‘great,’ etc. are subjective. That’s true for the juror as well as for anyone else. We’ve all done our best. Now we sit back and wait.
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In it to win it

Sometimes you’re just painting to survive.
My second painting, still untitled.
I know there are painters who can work all day and never so much as dirty a fingertip. I don’t understand them and they don’t understand me. I’m usually covered with paint by the end of the day. When traveling, one of my greatest challenges is keeping paint off my rental car. To that end I have a large cardboard box lining the cargo bay, but that still leaves the doors and upholstery for me to ruin. I’ve tried taping plastic across the interior, but it inevitably comes loose and wraps itself around my stuff, making a further mess.
My first painting, also untitled as of yet. I have a small change I’d like to make.
I like baby wipes for getting paint off. “Huggies are the best,”  Jeanne Echternachtold me. I wish I’d listened. The house-brand from Albertson’s isn’t doing much. Of course, it might be the climate. It does weird stuff to paint, things you might not expect. My dry-time, for example, is far slower than I’d anticipated, and the brushes I accidentally left at room temperature didn’t dry out overnight. Considering how arid it is here, that’s odd.
Two weeks ago today I had surgery on my left foot. I’ve still got stitches and both feet are wrapped. I’m painting seated, but on a very limited schedule. Yesterday I managed 6.5 hours and had to come back to the ranch and elevate my feet.
Drawing horses with Bill Rogers. Photo courtesy of Jane Chapin.
That’s fine for this event, which only demands two or three paintings from us, depending on how you count. What I can’t do is get in my car and drive in search of red rocks in AbiquiĂș or elsewhere.
The fine curs who have kept me company. Photo courtesy of Jane Chapin.
Painter Jane Chapinshows me a little town in the mountains. It’s high, dusty and dry, and has fewer than a hundred people. There are no services. It can’t handle any kind of influx, so I’m not identifying it for you, but it’s a slice of old New Mexico. Old houses, old cars, and some fine mongrel dogs. The residents are friendly, but they’re not particularly interested in what we’re doing. That leaves me lots of time to do my thing. This may be the first show ever that I don’t hand out a single business card.
Scout, by Carol L. Douglas. He’s a beauty.
On Sunday, William Rogers and I spent the morning drawing horses. Bill was interested in working them up as a painting; I was just messing around. It is usually too frenzied to draw for fun at these events, so it was a special opportunity. It was the first time I’ve ever drawn a donkey.
I have four paintings in various states of completion and I need to ponder them. Then back into the SUV and down the road again. I won’t have human company, but I never feel alone with the dogs hanging around.
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Monday Morning Art School: your first big event

You’re nervous, wondering how on earth you got into this show in the first place. What now?
Brush Creek, by Jeanne Echternach, courtesy of the artist.
I’m holed up on a ranch east of the Pecos with six superlative painters here for Santa Fe Plein Air Fiesta. “What advice would you give the emerging plein air artist before his or her first big event?” I asked them.
“Find something that grabs you and not the thing you think is the most important thing to paint. If I don’t have that connection, then I don’t have that edge,” said William Rogersof Antigonish, Nova Scotia.
Sonoran Preserve, by Richard Abraham, courtesy of the artist.
In other words, don’t focus on the picture postcard view. Sponsors often arrange paint outs for participating artists, and they’re very helpful to those who don’t know the area. But if it doesn’t move you, move on.
“When I was starting out, the worst thing was wasting time driving around looking for the best subject. Once you see something that would make a good painting, stop driving and start painting it,” said Deborah McAllister of Lakewood, CO. “Don’t worry about the other painters in the event or whether you’re going to win an award or not.”
First Snows, First Light, by Karen Ann Hitt, courtesy of the artist.
It’s easy to be unnerved in what is, essentially, a competition. “Find the joy and don’t let the event get in your head,” cautioned Jane Chapin of Santa Fe.
Remember that you were invited to this event because the jurors liked how you paint, so stop comparing yourself to others. That’s an insidious way to mess up your own excellent style. That doesn’t mean you can’t learn from others, but It’s best to put that in a tiny corner and ignore it for the duration of the event.
Ricardo and his horses, by William Rogers, courtesy of the artist.
I put the question to Karen Ann Hitt, of Venice, FL, as she drove away merrily in her big truck. “Less talk and more wine,” I thought she said. Later, she told me she’d actually said, “Red wine and dark chocolate, main food groups!” I’ll take that to mean: remember to bring snacks and plenty of water.
Later, she talked about the first painting of the event. “Start small, keep it simple, and get your first one under your belt. Don’t sweat the details,” she said. It’s a trap to try to do your masterwork on the first run.
Vendor, by Jane Chapin, courtesy of the artist.
“Paint something you’re familiar with. Play to your strengths,” added Jeanne Echternach, of Colorado.
Richard Abraham of Minneapolis knocked it out of the park with his first painting of this event. “Make sure you do your best painting the first day. Then you can relax,” he joked. But there’s some truth there. If your first painting is good, it builds confidence.
Still, you must leave room to be experimental. “Don’t chase your successes,” said Karen Hitt. By that, she meant, don’t fall into a formula. Take time to experiment, enjoy the place and the event, and challenge yourself.
Cottonwoods on the LaPoudre River, Deborah McAllister, courtesy of the artist.
“You can’t learn any younger,” said Jane Chapin.
Your painting will be better if you’re having fun. Take time to socialize. “Make friends with some new artists,” said Deborah McAllister.