I was fortunate enough to spend another week with the Nanatuck Group, a loose group of painters gathered by Mary Erickson that live for a week at a time in a rented house on the St. George peninsula on Maine’s mid-coast. Here are some of my pieces. (I also interviewed two artists for feature articles and finished up my book on art in the Wind River Mountains during my week there.)
There’s no place like home, is there?
A friend of mine here in Inwood, Elissa Gore, put together a plein air event in the neighborhood. It was low stakes–no prizes, no rules, and just enough structure to give it shape. About a dozen plein air artists found their way to what we call Upstate Manhattan and painted last weekend at the inaugural Paint Inwood event.
The first day, Friday, I met up with Elissa and about four others on the peninsula in Inwood Hill Park for an afternoon painting. I aimed for an abstract depiction of the Henry Hudson Bridge, but the painting decided it wanted to go elsewhere. But at least that little spit of land that was catching the sun so nicely stayed the focal point!
That evening, the painters gathered around an outdoor piano at the corner of Seaman Ave and Isham to tackle a nocturne. I forgot the nifty hat that illuminates one’s palette and working surface, so I had to set up under a street lamp with a decidedly warm cast to its light. Between that color temperature effect and the feeble moon, I couldn’t see well. OK, I could barely see anything. I decided it was an experiment in exploring how well I know my palette. Like a good boy, I always place my colors in the same order so I can think less about where a color is and more on what color I need and how to mix it. Nevertheless, for the majority of the painting session, I could not be sure what color was showing up on my painting. Ironically, although we all know cameras lie, the camera on my phone was giving me good guidance, seeing colors in my piece that my human eye at that light level could not. It was a struggle, and it was fun, and a skunk hung out right beside me for a while, eating slugs or ticks or whatever was on the menu that evening, and the fact that I didn’t get sprayed I took as a sign that my painting wasn’t offensively bad to skunks. And it turns out that this dicey nocturne was the piece most people looking at my work liked the best!
I had been looking forward to Saturday and the chance to paint with a couple of friends. Sarah Baptist and Robin Kappy joined me at the southern end of Inwood Hill Park for the chance to fill a couple of canvases. Robin and I only finished one, from a vantage point on the pedestrian bridge over the Amtrak tracks at the entrance to Dyckman Fields. Sarah, who is a bit of a painting machine, nailed an urban scene under the overpasses by La Marina, then she did an intriguing scene at the foot of the Henry Hudson Bridge. It was hot and I got tired, and a break on some park benches with Robin, overlooking the salt marsh and all the busy birds finding food in the water and sky above the marsh, was delightful.
Sarah and I got started earlier on Sunday. We walked down Broadway and had a substantial Tres Golpes (con magú) breakfast at Albert’s House of Mofongo, and we were seated right in the windows for some of the best people watching in Manhattan. The A train was disengorging folks carrying tents, tables, food, and summer accoutrement of all stripes, heading toward one of the parks. There were people dressed to the nines on their way to church. Clubgoers were stumbling out into the blinding sunlight. Food carts were finally packing it in after a fruitful night. Sarah and I were planning.
I chose to paint the grocery store Fine Fare, which helpfully features enormous sculptures of two cows and a chicken on its roof. Truth in marketing! Sarah painted the Inwood Library, a much-used and beloved Inwood institution that is losing its home amid local politics (<cough> corruption).
The event ended with a display of everyone’s paintings at the RING Garden, located at Broadway and Dyckman. Ω
To purchase any painting, please contact me at email@example.com.
We’ve all met people who are amazingly kind and generous. You feel good around them. You want to celebrate them. Well, in the process of researching my forthcoming book on the history of visual art in the Wind River Mountains (Taking Root in Rocky Soil), I came to know Mary and Joe Back. It started something.
Sadly, I did not meet them personally. This was mostly through their archives, which are stored in an upstairs room in Headwaters Arts & Conference Center, in Dubois, Wyoming. Joe died in 1986; Mary died in 1991. I came to them through their life story, not their personalities. And let me tell you, their lives bordered on the epic.
Joe grew up in Missouri but ran away from home after 8th Grade when a mischievous drawing of his teacher earned him expulsion from school and additional wrath from his stepfather. He found work as a chore boy on a ranch outside of Douglas, Wyoming. Meanwhile, Mary was growing up in Vermont under better circumstances. She attended Berea College in Kentucky, then earned a slot at the Art Institute of Chicago. Back in Wyoming, Joe was working on a dude ranch near Togwotee Pass, and sketching in idle moments. A visitor with connections got him into the Art Institute of Chicago, and he bumped into Mary while she was sketching a grizzly bear in the Field Museum of Natural History. That was it for them. She named her pet crow after him, they got engaged, and sooner rather than later, they made their way out to Wyoming.
The Backs ran the Lava Creek Ranch before World War II pulled them to the West Coast for a bit of war-effort work in factories. Once back in Wyoming after VJ Day, they continued with the ranch until age and declining health suggested a calmer lifestyle. They sold the ranch and bought some land east of Dubois right on Highway 26, and built a roadside gallery and a house and studio a little ways off he road. That’s when Mary ramped up her efforts in art … and perhaps more importantly, art education.
Mary traveled across the better part of Wyoming teaching art on the Wind River Reservation and in other locales. Her efforts earned her awards and honors from the governor and a host of other admirers. In Dubois, the Backs were much loved, and a visit to the Back home meant long, lively conversations and an inevitable sketch or two. Mary was the Johnny Appleseed of painting and drawing in the Winds, and Joe was the real deal: A bona fide cowboy artist, with tales to tell.
How could I resist writing a book on them?
Actually, I will mostly be editing their writings and retelling their story, which is covered quite well by Mary’s niece, Ruth Mary Lamb, in her book, Mary’s Way. My book will be a companion piece, with unpublished short stories by Mary and Joe, interviews with friends and family, quotes from old letters, and other tidbits I have uncovered. It will be my second book with a focus on Wyoming, but it feels more like a second book focusing on the indomitable art spirit.
I spent 11 days in Wyoming in April gathering material for the as-yet-untitled book, and now I am truly on fire to start. While there, I didn’t get much painting done, but that was almost to be expected. It snows in April in Wyoming, and the wind is ever blowing. I’m no plein air hero.
But I am a big fan of Mary and Joe Back. And I feel like I might be able to do them justice with a book. So off I go… Ω