Two Swans 2025

 My conundrum has always been how to make a beautiful abstract painting and then marry it with an image that will borth support the painting and at the same time say something. Lately, over the past few years, many of my images have been of animals, and the conundrum there is how to keep the images from being trite or sweet or both.  I found these two wooden swans at one of those places that is an "indoor flea market" in Asheville, North Carolina.  I real life I don't have much personal interaction with swans(living in the desert and what not)but I found these two to be quite compelling.  They were large, life sized, and altough realistic, you could still see signs of their wooden origins in the sometimes rough handling of the wood, or perhaps that was just life's wear and tear. The Swans will be exhibited in a large show of mine at Craig Krull Gallery, Witness from July 11-Aug. 29.  

Albuquerque Museum of Art, permanent collection

 

Recently, William Gassaway, Assistant Curator of Art at the Albuquerque Museum, notified me that two of my pieces were hanging in the permanent collection in the main gallery of the Museum.  The pieces had been donated by Fay Abrams in honor of her late husband, Jonathan Abrams, several years ago, so I was very pleased to have them up on display.  I wrote a blog about the pieces, Barefoot Riders, in 2022.  I hope you can get in to see them.  

Leaving 2026

Over the last two years, many of my images have involved splitting the figures in the frame. I am now asking the paint to play as vital a role in defining the finished image as the photo, or the parts of the collage that aren’t paint, like the eyes here, or the black cloud.  The painted part of the piece is telling a part of the story that is unfolding.  In this case, the story is about two people who are splitting up—a couple, friends, family, whenever two people who have been closely bonded break up—and the paint moves our eyes across the split, as well as the black paint flowing down the woman’s face, representing tears.  I see the figure on the left being female, and the figure on the right being male, and both are terribly sad.

Mouse House 2026

 

Recently my 5 year old grandson came to visit.  He spent much of the weekend outside, alone, constructing a fortress made from the dog's water bucket and all the loose bricks he could find in the yard. I told him there were mice inside--a family of five--and we proceeded to push food into the edifice so they could have something to eat. After he returned home, I asked Gemini to help me reconstruct the house with mice included.  I had never done any imaging with AI before, and I was absolutely floored at what it could do. That's pretty much what his building looked like, plus the mice.  I know everyone out there is thinking "Oh Holly Holly! where have you been??" but it is absolutely magical.  I tried Gemini on my desktop where my over 200,000 photos are stored, and got almost no results(this was done on my iPad). It kept suggesting I use Photoshop, so that put a kink in my creative flow since I work exclusively on my desktop. I don't know if this is something I can use as a tool with my work, or if it keeps me too much in my head, which is not where the magic happens.  I have made images with photoshop that were stand-alones, and I liked them, but they never had the power of the"handmade" pieces.  When I teach, I tell my students to listen to their hands, and leave their thoughts at the door.  So I'm not sure if this is just another fancier photoshop or if because of the ease and speed of it, perhaps it will open some new doors. stay tuned.

Hungry 2009

                                                                     Original 

Repainted top and bottom

 I made this image in 2009.  It was about hunger and not having enough to eat.  The man’s body refers to kwashiorkor “A severe protein malnutrition causing fluid retention(edema), a distended abdomen, lethargy, hair and skin changes and an enlarged liver”. His body is made from a photo of dried and cracked mud. The mouth on his legs, along with the apple on this knee, all speak to-this hunger. The top and bottom borders I made using the inside of a security envelope for its beautiful blue pattern.  You can imagine my surprise when, recently I went to pull "Hunger" out of my storage for an exhibit in San Diego and found that the entire bottom and top blue borders had gone completely white, faded to nothing. Fortunately for me. I have a very talented and capable  husband, who when asked if he could fix the problem of the white borders,said, "Sure, no problem", and he did, painting in the top and bottom in a beautiful system of alternating marks.  He said he loved doing it, and wanted to be my studio assistant, although he is an artist in his own right so I doubt that will happen anytime soon: Robert Wilson Art (Link to his website).

Crow with Spots 2025

One of the things I teach when I do mixed media workshops is how to do transfers--meaning taking  something from one place--a photo, paint, graphite, marker, text, magazine images--and transferring it to another surface.  Over the years, mostly serendipitously,  I've learned many ways to do these transfers. When I first started doing transfers it was possible to take an inkjet transparency, print it out in your ink jet printer, apply a little polymer medium, smack it down on your substrate, and viola--it transferred. However, in this time of rapidly changing everything, it stopped working.  The formula changed, and we had to go to laser printers to do our very difficult, fingerprint removing process of doing a transfer.  Things changed again, other ways to do transfers developed, and as soon as I would teach one class a transfer process, the materials would disappear or nothing would work quite right.  Mostly recently I discovered, by accident, that Hammermill made a lovely double sided glossy paper for laser printers, and these prints transferred like a house afire.  It was quite wonderful, but short lived. When I went to Amazon to order the paper, it turned out that now you could only order 2400 sheets at a time if you wanted that specific paper. I ended up ordering a strange Koala Pearl glossy paper, and that's what I did Crow with Spots with.

Angry Rabbit 2025

 ”Angry Rabbit” is a “clean up” painting.  My studio, after several weeks of working, was pretty much a wreck.  Once you really start working, it’s just hard to stop to put things away.  Opened boxes of photo paper, the floored littered with scraps of paper, images that had been cut up and discarded, painted panels, folders of photos, stacks of painted paper and on and on. Finally, with all the chaos, it was time to clean up. But that never happens.  For the next week I found myself making image after image, almost effortlessly—anything to keep from cleaning up. 

Girl with Wolf 2010

Earlier this summer, two of our closest friends decided to move from Santa Fe to be closer to their family(see Cubana Conversation ).  I inherited a number of my paintings from their collection, and this was one of them, always a favorite of mine.  Of course, this is Little Red Riding Hood, being tricked not by a wolf, but by my blue heeler, Plez.  I love the painting for its wild colors, the innocence of Red Riding Hood, and Plez's leering canine face. Their bodies were made from paint peels-dried acrylic paint poured out, dried, then peeled back up and applied. The little girl's almost beating heart, and the wolf's large red mass that could be his intestines or a very large heart, both paint peels on top of paint peels. Her little black Mary Janes and his slipper like footwear finish these fairytale portraits.
 

Painted Horse

 In 2022 I was notified that two of my pieces, “Painted Horse” and “Horse with Storm” had been selected to be installed at the new UNM Hospital tower, here in Albuquerque, NM.  When a piece has been selected for a public art installation it has to be framed and hung in very specific ways—plexiglass covering the surface and special anti theft hangers so it can go on the wall and not be removed.  I think this piece has been hung in a patient’s room on the third floor, but I’m not sure since I didn’t do the hanging myself and the grand opening will be in October.  I like to think that whoever has this piece in their room will enjoy sharing their space with this friendly, colorful guy, and perhaps, in some subtle way, help that person heal.

Cubana Conversation 1979 or before

Most recently, good friends of mine are moving to be closer to their family and are down sizing.  They have been friends for over 40 years and had collected more than 25 of my images, some of them going back to my first years as an artist, in my early 20's.  They decided to keep 11 of those 25, and then asked me if I would take the rest.  I agreed, and drove home with a car full-o-art.  Once I got home, I began to try and figure out what to do, hoping that I could donate most to NM museums.  In the process I found myself frustrated with young Holly, who didn't see things like writing down dates or titles being particularly important. I kept all in my head at that time, and didn't see the need, since it was all right there. As well, I documented all my work using slides, and often the quality was not very good(I was learning).  But what was most interesting in looking through and cataloging the work, was seeing this time capsule of my life and progress as an artist.  "Cubana Conversation" was done when I worked at Tamarind Institute in the early 70s.  Printed in an edition of 17, I printed it myself on Tamarind presses after hours.  And lastly, to visibly see and appreciate the the support of these friends, who over the 40 years of our friendship, consistently believed in me and my vision.

Headed South 2005

For the past day, I've been looking for an image in my photo archives and haven't been able to find it.  However, looking through my images, as I've gone back through the years (from 2005-2009),  I've  been filled with wonder and delight. In some years I did up to 75 images, other years I seemed to average around 60. Most of the images have to do with something going wrong, or wrongish. Relationships, angels, birds, snakes, figures smoking cigarettes, all made from photographic bits and pieces of other things, all telling a story of some kind or another.  There is a spiritual sense to much of this work, a kind of witnessing of of the "other", whatever that other is. In looking at the images, I feel about the them now as I did when I made them. I know that the me that sits here now is not the me that made the images, but some other mysterious personage that shows up when I start to work, forcing "me" to give up control, pulling all the strings, and making all the decisions. 

Doe 2025

According to Hypnoticgate.com when a deer crosses your path it's not just coincidence, but a profound moment filled with symbolism and meaning. Who knew?  

 

 

Guard Dog(Abby) 2025

My mother suffered from dementia for the last 10 years of her life, through her eighties, dying just short of her ninety-first birthday.  Up until the last year she lived alone with her dog Abby. My two siblings and I did as much as we could to allow her to keep living by herself in her little house. My sister managed her finances from afar, my brother visited her every Sunday to hike and take care of things, and I called everyday to check in.  However, it was her dog, Abby, that really gave her life the most meaning.  A border collie rescue, Abby was Mom’s shadow. She was my mother’s very best friend-non judgmental and always present, never saying “You already told me that!”.  She also took advantage of mom, ferociously protecting her and nearly pulling her off her feet by yanking the leash when other dogs would get too close, and convincing my mother that she always needed more food since Mom couldn’t remember if she had fed her or not.  All seemed fine and then it wasn’t. Abby seemed lethargic for a few days and then quietly went out into the back yard and died, still a relatively young dog. Of course, Mom was heartbroken. She followed Abby that fall.

Child Dreaming 1993

I recently received this email message.  Back in 1999 or so I attended a Natalie Goldberg writing workshop in Taos, and you were a guest speaker. I was moved by your talk and your work, and purchased one of your paintings over a pinhole camera image -- a child's face, sleeping, with a coyote or wolf. It was among my favorites and sadly lost in the recent LA fires. The email broke my heart.  Not for the loss of this wonderful painting, but for the family that lost everything in the fire, one of thousands.  The painting seems almost a portent of what was to come, even though it was painted some 35 years ago: the sleeping child's face, the smokey haze of danger that lurks just beyond the dream. 

Grey Horse Walking 2025

For me, there is a kind of existential loneliness in this painting. The circular motion of the background suggests a storm, while the small clouds building above the mare give a quiet sense of foreboding.  Her head seems stoic-resigned-while her body, made partially from photographs, dictionary pages and painted paper, seems contradictory, but in fact, adds to that sense of disjointed separateness.

 

Deer Watching 2024

Lately I’ve been talking, thinking, and reading about consciousness, especially as it applies to animals.  From what I understand, consciousness is everywhere and it’s only our ability to connect with it that allows us to experience that consciousness.  I feel as if I have a screen that keeps me from connecting to that consciousness—sometimes thinner and sometimes thicker.  When I build these images I feel that I am making that screen thinner, and the materials that I have to form the heads and bodies of my animals gives me that connection.

untitled abstract 2024

My images consist of two processes: #1: paint an abstract painting #2. form an image on the surface of that painting adhering different materials including, but not limited to, my photographs.  This past week I painted 9 paintings that are somewhat different in that they are complete in and of themselves,  Which leaves me with some confusion: where is my story and where is that big connection that I make between the painting and the adhered elements?  Are these enough?  How do I title them? Does the world expect something different from me?  Were these just an "accident", and if so, can I do more? If I do form images on top of them, will they be that much more powerful or will the image take away from the paintings?  Right now they are sitting in my studio, quietly glowing, and I lay awake at night, not quite sure of what to do.

 

Welcome 2024

Juan Diego: Mexican indigenous person to whom the Virgin of Guadalupe appears for the first time. Mexican Indian born around 1474 in Cuauhtitlán, an area of ​​Texco influence, the Indian Juan was of Chichimenca origin and was baptized and educated in the Catholic faith by the Franciscans.

For much of my life, several times a year, I drive to Colorado via highway 285 which takes me through the small border town of Antonito. To the east, directly off  the highway, just before I reach the turn which will take me to Antonito sits a small chapel, dedicated to Juan Diego and the Holy Family. And even though the sign says, in commercial lettering, "Welcome Open Day Or night"  I have never gone in the chapel.  However, I have stopped to photograph it and have used these photographs in numerous paintings I have done over the years. As I was developing this image, it became clear to me that these two ordinary male figures with their bovine heads were a connection to times when animals and people were powerful magical beings.  Here they welcome us into the mystery of the chapel for the man who 650 years ago made the miraculous acquaintance of the Blessed Virgin Mary. 

(I discovered this blog link when I was researching the chapel which takes you in inside Oratorio de Juan Diego y La Sagrada Familia.)

Woman Leaning Over 2024

I recently returned from teaching two one week workshops at Anderson Ranch, both combining paint and collage material.  Much of the class is teaching students different ways to add surfaces to their substrates, using photographic images, paint, or material transferred be it paint or marks or photographs or text, to name just a few.  There is something thrilling about making a painting by not just painting on the surface with a brush, but by adding to it and  not being quite sure what you are going to get. Sometimes you get magic, and sometimes not. This panel started out as a demonstration piece, and there wasn't much magic. I then proceeded to try most of the different techniques I was teaching, including using a students "pure black" paint to create the washes. Still no magic. Frustrated I kept piling technique on top of technique.  And then suddenly, there was the magic:  the student's "borrowed" black paint transformed into the figure of a woman leaning over at an impossible angle, surrounded by the beautiful chaos of the all "non-magical" marks I had made.

Dancing Shoes 2024

For the past two years I have been finding homes for my paintings.  Fifty years of working on a regular basis creates a lot of work. I've been contacting museums, art centers, and universities to see if they would like to add my work to their collections, and, once they agree, I began the arduous process of locating, packing, and shipping the work to them. As well, in March of this year,  MOPA at the San Diego Museum of Art opened a 40 year retrospective of my work. An enormous undertaking, it pretty much consumed me for much those two years.  Between the two, and because it hadn't seemed quite right to make more art when I had so much, I pretty much stopped working for the years 2022 and 2023. 

However, when you identify as an artist, you don't feel right not making work. You feel a phony-you ARE a phony.  So, with much fear and trepidation I started working again, pretty much sure that all that magic I call on when I make my images was gone.  In fact, I was sure of it.  Why even bother?  But with shaking knees and a funny feeling in the pit of my stomach I put on my painting shoes and began to paint--pouring, dripping--just basically moving(lots of) paint around.  The result was 20 beautiful abstract paintings, waiting for me to start to form "stories" on them.  And once I started,  I couldn't stop.  I felt like the little girl in the fairy tale who wished for magic shoes to dance in, and when she got them, she couldn't stop.