5/1/11
Yesterday, a long day of traveling in a sleepy haze due to less than 4 hrs sleep, as I'd wanted to be with friends on my last night in Beacon for a while. On the bus from Albuquerque to T or C, my first impression was of a predominantly beige landscape, a horizon line stretching far into the distance, and bright sun flashing through the windows. By the time dusk fell I was ready for bed. Nine hours later, I woke soon after sunrise and thought happily, I am in New Mexico. This is actually happening.
I was received warmly by the young woman who's founded this residency. My living quarters are charming. Blue painted floors, cheery yellow doors and everything I need. Outside, a courtyard with sun and shade, 2 raised-bed gardens planted with corn & squash, and around the back, the hot springs tub. At night, strings of colored lights go on and the dark sky fills with stars.
This morning, riding a borrowed bicycle, I am taken on a tour. Turtleback Mountain rises in the distance beyond the town. Many brilliantly colored little buildings as well as warm earth-toned ones, the shops and galleries and spas and churches. The Rio Grande, green and cold, flows nearby. The studio space/gallery is in an orange-painted storefront on Main St, and there is lots of room for me to work. I meet several nice people over the course of the day. Still having trouble wrapping my mind around the idea that I have a whole month to spend in this quirky Southwestern town, to move past the initial over-stimulation that excites and tires me and to feel it all gradually soak in. Becoming part of something within me that will always be there to draw upon.
I unpack my supplies and note with some relief that whatever paint spilled was fairly minimal and that it wasn't the cobalt blue. Later there is an after-dark performance outside a restaurant to celebrate the first of May. A drumming circle and fire dancers spinning and flashing light through the darkness, hips and arms a wild blur.
I suspect that there will come a day in the not too distant future that you will find yourself in a reflective reverie as the sun sets fire to the horizon shortly before slipping beyond the ability to be seen, and you will look back at the time you have spent there and realized that the wild blur of hips and arms was a metaphoric omen of the days to come. Fast and full, brimming with new memories and inspiration to drive brush, pen, and pencil across the page towards new wonders of artistic expression. I am simultaneously envious and proud of what you have accomplished since the birth of this notion back in the short cold days of mid-winter. May your paint, ink, and lead lead you on many more grand adventures.
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