Santa Fe Artist, Jenni McGuire.One last thought. Life has a way of inspiring us in ways we may not always notice. Pay attention.
What inspired me to paint? There were many things in my life that lead to this path. Any of which could have sent me in other directions.
Like so many I’m not a native New Mexican, but have been here, off and on now, over half my life. It started in the summer of 1972 in Albuquerque and continued until I settled down here in 1980. I only say this because growing up on the banks of the Ohio River, I didn’t readily take to the drier landscape that surrounded me.
When I went to work at Los Alamos I found myself assigned in remote sites in the middle of nothing and nowhere. It was there I began to see what I was missing. This possibly could have happened anywhere I may have been at the time, but it happened here. There were always deer, elk, coyotes, mountain lion, and I managed to catch an eagle in flight. I began taking short walks at noon with wildflower and bird books to identify what was out there. There was a lot more than I thought. When I look at the cliffs now, I know there are little pines trying to grow in the cracks of the rocks. Or globe mallow and fleabane reaching for water in the sand. Or wild purple aster growing with wild sunflower in quickly disappearing empty lots.
When my father-in-law became seriously ill we moved to Santa Fe to be closer. That brought another element, the sunsets. I’d never been able to see them where I was. The drive to and from work became inspirational. I saw sunrises and sunsets during the drive. I also remember when my father-in-law became bed ridden there was nothing we could interest him in doing. There were many reasons for this, but there was nothing he did that his hands could handle. Being a horseman most his life, braiding leather was out. This was one of those inspirational “things”. What would I do if I got like that? I could draw, always have, and enjoyed it. Painting would possibly be easier on the hands.
Not long after coming to Santa Fe, my parents moved here. Both had always dabbled in art for the enjoyment of it. My mother especially had a love for all arts, a deeper love for my father kept her from pursuing her dream. My father painted quite a bit after retirement and would spend most his day creating works of heart (I loved his ability with colors). A couple years after moving here he had a minor stroke and his painting kept both he and my mother going. It gave him pleasure to be able to sit and paint. My mother’s hands will not allow her the same enjoyment, although she actually has the talent. Another inspirational “thing”.
I began painting instead of sketching shortly before my father passed away, and I think this gave him joy. When I had the opportunity to take early retirement, there was no doubt in my mind what I was going to do. I have learned the old lesson, use it or lose it, quite well. And I intend to use it until I can no longer pick up a brush. God willing.
One last thought. Life has a way of inspiring us in ways we may not always notice. Pay attention.