Last week I started describing a new multilayered print that explored my daily routine through the lens of my commute to work. Today, we'll take a look at the different landscapes I incorporated into the initial prints.
I've talked about my color field studies on here before. Between May of 2014 and May of 2015 I made over 100 color blocks based on landscapes I'd seen around New Mexico. Here they are all as a group, as presented in a picture taken on my computer:
In terms of scale they're pretty intimate, about 5"x 7" each. Some were done in a sketchbook, others were painted on watercolor paper I'd cut up. The majority of these were done in Roswell, though some were inspired by Jemez Springs and other places I've visited, not to mention all my drives along 285. Some were extracted from expansive landscapes and open skies, while others took their cue from individual flowers or leaves. The overarching goal, particularly for the Roswell studies, was to dispel the notion that this town is nothing but dirt. There are plenty of beautiful vistas and objects in Roswell if you look for them.
Visually, these color block studies take their cue from a variety of art historical sources. After all, all art is inspired to a degree by other art, so the more aware you are of historical precedents, the more cleverly your work will engage the greater art canon.
From a purely superficial standpoint, the color blocks resemble the color fields of Mark Rothko, though in scale and subject matter, they're completely different from one another.
The seriality of my work is actually more in tune with Claude Monet's haystacks series. While I'm not painting the same exact site over and over again in these pieces, the idea of tracing the subtle changes in a place through time, whether that span encompasses a day, a season, or a year, is very much akin to these works. Stylistically they're different, but the ideas behind the content are similar.
I also took inspiration from more local artists. Although stylistically the color fields are completely different, the idea of capturing the color palette of southeastern New Mexico at different times of days and seasons comes right out of Peter Hurd's practice. When you've spent nearly four years researching an artist's work, it's bound to influence you eventually.
Of particular importance has been the work of Elmer Schooley, particularly his Wilderness paintings. Schooley worked on a much larger scale than I do, but the way his landscapes straddle representation and abstraction with their all-over patterns of flowers have greatly influenced my work. Gussie DuJardin's paintings of lichen and other micro landscapes have been equally significant by encouraging me to seek out the vast beauty present in the smallest of objects.
Perhaps the most immediate inspiration though, or at least the artist whose work encouraged me to finish this project, is that of Roswell Artist-in-Residence Louise Deroualle. Originally from Brazil, Deroualle is a ceramist whose works engages her local surroundings. Through the uses of glazes, surface textures, and abstraction, she creates pieces that channel the sense of place behind a local landscape without relying entirely on naturalistic representation. The ceramic platters below, for instance, take their formal inspiration from Bottomless Lakes State Park.
As readers well know, I have a tendency to begin projects but not necessarily finish them, and that was exactly what had begun to happen with these prints. I had made the intaglio impressions back in March or April, and knew that I wanted to paint color fields over them, but had done nothing because I was unable to decide which color fields to use. Seeing Louise's work and the ways in which she transformed her observations of the Roswell landscape into beautiful abstractions reenergized my interest in the project. Within a week, I had finished what had been delayed for months. Sometimes it takes seeing another person's enthusiasm for a subject to reinvigorate your own.
This field is based on some wildflowers I found in February. The weather in Roswell is mercurial during the winter, so it's entirely possible to have flowers spring up.
November is based on an evening sky I watched one night while walking home from work. I was able to watch several flocks of geese on their migrations, and incorporated them into the sketch.
And to finish out the year, we conclude with a dawn in anticipation of a new cycle of seasons. This was based on a morning I spent at Bottomless Lakes watching the Geminid meteor shower. I had gotten up 4 am to drive to the lakes, and stayed out there until about 8, watching the landscape's palette transition from inky black and indigo to soft pinks and yellows. It was intensely cold, but remains one of the most vivid experiences I've had here. The soundscape was as evocative as my visual surroundings, as I listened to coyotes, geese, and rustling grasses in contented solitude.
So that's a year in the life of Roswell in color fields. I took a lot of liberties with my definition of Roswell, but they were very much part of my routine here, so I included them. If I were to do this project again I might be more precise about it, but then again, going through these sketches enabled me to relive some pleasant memories, so perhaps not.
Next week we'll take a look at the still life aspect I added to these works.
I've talked about my color field studies on here before. Between May of 2014 and May of 2015 I made over 100 color blocks based on landscapes I'd seen around New Mexico. Here they are all as a group, as presented in a picture taken on my computer:
In terms of scale they're pretty intimate, about 5"x 7" each. Some were done in a sketchbook, others were painted on watercolor paper I'd cut up. The majority of these were done in Roswell, though some were inspired by Jemez Springs and other places I've visited, not to mention all my drives along 285. Some were extracted from expansive landscapes and open skies, while others took their cue from individual flowers or leaves. The overarching goal, particularly for the Roswell studies, was to dispel the notion that this town is nothing but dirt. There are plenty of beautiful vistas and objects in Roswell if you look for them.
Visually, these color block studies take their cue from a variety of art historical sources. After all, all art is inspired to a degree by other art, so the more aware you are of historical precedents, the more cleverly your work will engage the greater art canon.
From a purely superficial standpoint, the color blocks resemble the color fields of Mark Rothko, though in scale and subject matter, they're completely different from one another.
 |
| Mark Rothko, No. 61 (Blue and Rust), 1953, Museum of Contemporary Art, Los Angeles. |
The seriality of my work is actually more in tune with Claude Monet's haystacks series. While I'm not painting the same exact site over and over again in these pieces, the idea of tracing the subtle changes in a place through time, whether that span encompasses a day, a season, or a year, is very much akin to these works. Stylistically they're different, but the ideas behind the content are similar.
 |
| Claude Monet, Haystacks (Effects of Snow and Sun), 1891, oil on canvas. Metropolitan Museum of Art. |
 |
| Peter Hurd, Untitled (A Tree on the Plains), 1950-1955, watercolor on paper. Roswell Museum and Art Center. |
I also took inspiration from more local artists. Although stylistically the color fields are completely different, the idea of capturing the color palette of southeastern New Mexico at different times of days and seasons comes right out of Peter Hurd's practice. When you've spent nearly four years researching an artist's work, it's bound to influence you eventually.
 |
| Elmer Schooley, Celebration, 1986, oil on canvas. Roswell Museum and Art Center. |
Of particular importance has been the work of Elmer Schooley, particularly his Wilderness paintings. Schooley worked on a much larger scale than I do, but the way his landscapes straddle representation and abstraction with their all-over patterns of flowers have greatly influenced my work. Gussie DuJardin's paintings of lichen and other micro landscapes have been equally significant by encouraging me to seek out the vast beauty present in the smallest of objects.
 |
| Gussie DuJardin, Crustose Lichen on Pink Granite x20, 1976, acrylic on linen. Roswell Museum and Art Center. |
Perhaps the most immediate inspiration though, or at least the artist whose work encouraged me to finish this project, is that of Roswell Artist-in-Residence Louise Deroualle. Originally from Brazil, Deroualle is a ceramist whose works engages her local surroundings. Through the uses of glazes, surface textures, and abstraction, she creates pieces that channel the sense of place behind a local landscape without relying entirely on naturalistic representation. The ceramic platters below, for instance, take their formal inspiration from Bottomless Lakes State Park.
As readers well know, I have a tendency to begin projects but not necessarily finish them, and that was exactly what had begun to happen with these prints. I had made the intaglio impressions back in March or April, and knew that I wanted to paint color fields over them, but had done nothing because I was unable to decide which color fields to use. Seeing Louise's work and the ways in which she transformed her observations of the Roswell landscape into beautiful abstractions reenergized my interest in the project. Within a week, I had finished what had been delayed for months. Sometimes it takes seeing another person's enthusiasm for a subject to reinvigorate your own.
For the color fields, I chose a different study from a different month. Since I didn't always label the dates on the earlier studies, a lot of this was guesswork. Still, it's all within a year's time, which was the important part. If I ever undertake a group of studies like this again though, I'll be sure to label them from the onset.
The first study was done at Bitter Lakes. This this a vista at dusk, with the the orange sky terminating in the dark ground. The strip of blue at the bottom is the reflection of sky on the water.
This field is based on some wildflowers I found in February. The weather in Roswell is mercurial during the winter, so it's entirely possible to have flowers spring up.
A lot of the studies were done around Bottomless Lakes, such as this scene for March. This field was based on a hiking and bike trail in the park, away from the water. The circles are simplifications of bushes and shrubs, a form I used in a lot of these studies.
While most of the color fields are based on panoramic landscapes, others are much more intimate in nature. April, for instance, is based on a blanketflower, which you can find growing along the road in the springtime.
May is based on a field of wildflowers I found in bloom along Sycamore Road, located in the western side of Roswell. 2015 featured an especially wet spring, so there was no shortage of colorful flowers in town.
June is one of several scenes of Bottomless Lakes. Here I'm looking up, from the red rocks to the grass growing up top of them, to a blue sky. Taking a cue from Elmer Schooley, I added shrub circles to further abstract the landscape and give it an allover pattern.
July is right in town. The colors here come from blue skies, blue-gray clouds, green tree foliage, and little flowers growing in front of people's houses.
August is another view of Bottomless Lakes, this time from the water. The greenish water blends into the pink mud and rocks along the shore, which will eventually turn red the further up you go. The little red, blue, and yellow steaks are representations of the small fish you'll find along the shore. If you're still, they'll even nibble on your toes. Think of it as a free version of fish pedicures.
September is another view of the water, but this time from the middle of Leigh Lake if you're swimming from one end to another. This time the red and blue streaks signify dragonflies skimming the water's surface. This is their breeding season, and you'll find more than 100 species around time between August and September.
October is based on a shrub that used to grow by the Spring River corridor, across from the Museum. It's been taken down since then, but in the fall the leaves used to turn from a dark green to yellow and red.
November is based on an evening sky I watched one night while walking home from work. I was able to watch several flocks of geese on their migrations, and incorporated them into the sketch.
And to finish out the year, we conclude with a dawn in anticipation of a new cycle of seasons. This was based on a morning I spent at Bottomless Lakes watching the Geminid meteor shower. I had gotten up 4 am to drive to the lakes, and stayed out there until about 8, watching the landscape's palette transition from inky black and indigo to soft pinks and yellows. It was intensely cold, but remains one of the most vivid experiences I've had here. The soundscape was as evocative as my visual surroundings, as I listened to coyotes, geese, and rustling grasses in contented solitude.
So that's a year in the life of Roswell in color fields. I took a lot of liberties with my definition of Roswell, but they were very much part of my routine here, so I included them. If I were to do this project again I might be more precise about it, but then again, going through these sketches enabled me to relive some pleasant memories, so perhaps not.
Next week we'll take a look at the still life aspect I added to these works.
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