Painting Dreams

One of the delights of painting away from home is painting little jewel-like panels, often 12"x12". They feel very playful to me. I can explore whimsical themes or darker ones that might be too intense for a large canvas. They feel like dreams to me.

 

Visual Gifts of the Dorland Artist Residency

At the Dorland Mountain Arts Colony a steep path leads to a patch of level ground overlooking a string of mountains beyond a valley with a stone spiral like a labyrinth. I returned to this spot almost every day and did two paintinggs of it (so far). Having a new spiritual symbol, another emotional landscape, is one of the gifts of my time at Dorland.

The green desert hills were another gift. They loomed up any time I turned around and will appear in my paintings long after I return home, a symbol of the journey.

I am excited about how going to residencies give me fresh inspiration and am eager to do more.
 

Lake Ticanu

Dorland Mountain has a spring that goes up its core. The delightful result is a couple of ponds on the grounds of the art colony there plus water for the residents. When I first found Lake Ticamu (actually the size of a small pond), I was so excited about a little blue dory on the bank. Ed grumbled that it was too heavy, but Chris was as enthusiastic as I was and photographed us for paintings. Thanks, Chris!

 

Old Ideas and New Ones

Dorland Mountain Artist Colony is our third residency. One thing I've learned from experience is to have some ideas sketched out and ready to go so I can hit the ground running while working out new ideas. These two bed paintings are a continuation of a previous series. Working on them freed me from the pressure while I was sketching out new ideas, like this one, Cairn, inspired by Joshua Tree boulders.

 

Privacy and Community

 Dorland Mountain Art Colony's primary purpose is to provide creatives with uninterrupted time for their work in a beautiful setting. Dorland stipulates that residents are not to initiate contact with other residents. Initially we saw more of Duchess, the German Shepherd, than the other artists and writers. I m so grateful for this time apart.

The exception is on Friday evenings when there's a meet-and-greet. The five of us gather with Janice, our host, and share what we're working on. David Gilette is focused on finishing a novel based in Colorado; he had us all riveted with the passages he shared. Edith Hornik-Beer is a journalist, writing an article about the interdependency of socialism and capitalism; be watching for it in the New York Times.

Natasha Harrison is a glass artist, suspending petals and seeds inside blown glass pods which she then suspends in clusters. 

Chris Allen is beading morning to past midnight, exploring a new line of bracelets as well as continuing her sculpture pieces. 

And Ed has been continuing refining old work and writing new poems for an upcoming collection.

The Poet, Adrift on the Antarctic, is Angry   

because the work he ends up doing

to pay bills and feed his family

is lonely beyond understanding,

and he knows he could have done better

had he known in the beginning 

what he knows now of the world,

but he has drifted too far on this chunk of floating ice

to start over, and time has whittled his face 

into the shape of a sphinx,

and for love he stays put,

and for caution he stays put, 

chest into the wind,

hands clenched and eyes wide open,

for with time comes wisdom

with its great green eye,

and with wisdom 

comes a kind of peace,

like the fluid in the back of the eyes,

and with peace 

comes a love so hot

no ice can hold it,

and so this story ends

with the ice finally melting

and the poet in flames,

strolling, to his amazement,

across the surface 

of the waters. 

Circling a Theme

 

Nearby the cottages here at Dorland Mountain Arts Colony there's a stone spiral, somewhat like a labyrinth at a spot called Sunrise Point. It's been a place to greet the day and to inspire new work. Chris Allen added her beaded rocks to the center, and I made this painting our first week here. Be watching for more paintings on this theme.

 

A Place Out of Time

 The Dorland Mountain Arts Colony was first envisioned and constructed in 1979 on Nature Conservancy land. The grounds were decimated by fire in 2004 and rebuilt over the next decade. There are 5 cottages for visiting artists, writers, and musicians, plus two studios and other housing.

There's a whimsy to the place--two tiny ponds (one with a boat), various trails, and a spiral labyrinth at Sunrise Point. Dorland is next to the Agua Tibia Wilderness, and there are multiple narrow trails that hug the dry hillsides. Sage, brush and live oak are all around us, and we've spotted coyotes, rabbits, lizards, hawks, and a bobcat.

Dorland is amazing for what it doesn't have, as well as the natural beauty. No traffic, no computer demands, no obligations. Ed and I go for an early morning hike, and when we return to the cottage, I indulge in playing the Steinway grand piano. Then the day spreads out before me--I sketch, I paint, I go for another walk, I stop at Chris' cottage and watch her bead, I paint some more.

My first paintings here was in response to our time at Joshua Tree:

Ed is using this time here to work on his poetry. Here is one that is clearly Dorland inspired:

Before Our Eyes

Black lizard with jeweled skin,

ostentatious on the porch.

Ten push ups, then—Voila!

Vanishes before our eyes.

Sage leaves giggle

in Santa Ana breeze 

like children

on a playground swing. 

Honeybees sing on

blue rosemary blossoms,

suck nectar, feet muddy

with pollen. 

Two crows, 

black as dreams

atop a dead live oak.

“Look, they’re kissing.”

Dorland Mountain Arts Colony

The first art adventure of 2022.

Early on January 28, Ed and I made our escape in a car heavily loaded with paint, panels, and an ice chest. We drove 8 hours to Joshua Tree where we were joined by Chris Allen, an old friend and bead artist from Rochester, Minnesota. Chris had just driven across the country in her daughter's Ford, the rust creeping up the bottom as a testament of the frigid temperatures she was escaping.

We spent two nights in Joshua Tree, hiking, sketching, and photographing, collecting images for the upcoming weeks. I was also inspired by Noah Purifoy's outdoor sculptures.

On January 30, we headed 2 hours west to the Dorland Mountain Artist Colony in the hills above Temecula. As we drove up the steep road to the grounds, I felt like I was entering a sacred space, a place out of time. A couple white cottages perched on hilltops covered with sage and brush, and other houses clustered inside a grove of live oak.

We were greeted by Duchess, the resident German shepherd. We parked and looked for a place to register, and we found 99-year-old Robert, sitting on a porch with his granddaughter and great-granddaughter. Chris and I introduced ourselves and asked where we should check in. He waved a hand dismissively and said, "You're checked in."

Ed and I unloaded our supplies at the Horton cottage, a sunny little white house with tile floors and a Steinway grand piano dominating the main room. On top of a bookcase was a sign that read, "We're all here at Dorland, and the magic has begun."