Tag: Historical Art

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Whitby Abbey Cemetery Oil Painting By The GYPSY

The Artist Life: Technology and Art

Posted on October 21, 2022 by admin

TECHNOLOGY AND ART

Modern Technology Is A Wonderful Tool For The Artist If You Can Avoid The Gremlins.

No Matter How Hard You Try Sometimes Things Don’t Go Right.

Modern Technology has been a God send for my art. Through the internet I can share my passion and creations with the world. Yet sometimes the Gremlin’s find their way into my best efforts and yank the wires that help my art fly and stay airborne. And so it was this past week.

Every Wednesday I present a FREE Painting Tutorial on Facebook live, One week I might present a watercolor tutorial, another wee acrylic and still another week an oil painting tutorial. This past Wednesday it was an oil painting tutorial and the Gremlin’s decided that they would have their fun with it.

I pre-record my tutorials so that I can go into live chat and answer any questions people may have during the live presentation. As I recorded last Wednesdays Tutorial., Whitby Abbey Cemetery, I soon discovered that it would be a long tutorial so I decided to break it down into two parts. I finished recording the creation of the painting and took it into my video editing software. Little did I know at the time that the Gremlins had already started their fiendish work.

As I was reviewing the final edited video I discovered that not only was a segment of the audio screwy but two segment of the audio were screwy. Add it that the final display of the finished painting pixelated half way through the presentation. At that point I am sure that the computer Gremlin’s were dancing with glee.

It is not like I can just go back in and re-record the tutorial. Spending another 5 hours on a painting I have already done is just not an appealing nor fun idea for me. I present these videos free for the first week after the Facebook Live presentation and the they are for sale for only $15 on the Artist Alley Studio website after that. I couldn’t very well expect people to buy a video that was not the absolute best I could present. So what could I do? Somehow I had to thwart the Gremlin’s dastardly sabotage, and I did.

I decided to make Parts One and Two of the Whitby Abbey Cemetery Oil Painting Tutorial FREE indefinitely. I would let people know of the Gremlin caused glitches and they could ignore those problems and still discover what I had to teach. I would also identify and remove the monkey wrench the Gremlins threw into my recording software and put up safeguards against their future interference.

I am happy to report that the Gremlins screamed in agony and departed to harass some other poor soul when I implemented my fixes. Now all is right with the world and you can forever have this tutorial for FREE.

We do not know whether or not the Gremlins will ever return to try and interfere with my art tutorials in the future but if they do their only reward will be that I again give you a tutorial that is FREE Forever and I am sure the Gremlins will have no satisfaction in that.

-The GYPSY-

The Artist Life: Blessings

Posted on October 7, 2022October 21, 2022 by admin

BLESSINGS

Being A Kansas Native Has Delivered Many Blessings From God

I took this photo in August of 2010 after coming through a particularly strong thunderstorm on my motorcycle.

The photo was taken just north of Topeka, Kansas on Highway 75 looking west. Of all the photos I have taken over the years this is my favorite.

I had dismounted the motorcycle to capture one of the most glorious sunsets I had ever witnessed. I was getting my camera out of my saddle bag when I heard the honking; I quickly spun and shot.

This photo to me represents the true spirit of those who are proud to call Kansas home. No matter what adversity may loom over head the people of Kansas will always have the strength to rise above the storm and move ahead. I am proud to be a native born Kansan and I thank God that he bestowed that blessing upon me.

Because I am a Native Born Kansan I have had many opportunities that would not have presented themselves elsewhere. Being born an artist I can look at the world with an artist eye. With that artist eye I started noticing the beauty of the Kansas landscape at an early age. Noticing that beauty and capturing it on paper led to many doors opening for me.

I had an appreciation, way beyond my age of 5 years old, for the art at the Nelson-Atkins Museum in Kansas City, Missouri. I was able to get advanced art classes at Washburn Universities Mulvane Gallery when just 7 years old. I was personally tutored by famed muralist Harry Roth between the ages of 8 – 10. I was a Free Lance Artist for the Nazarene Publishing House at 17 years of age. I turned down a $50,000 a year 15 year contract with a major greeting card company at 19 years of age because of artistic integrity I had learned as a Native born Kansan. That decision led to my 46 year long career as Kansas’ most experienced Body Artist.

Yes, I have received many blessings because of being born a Native Kansan. At times I failed to appreciate those blessings and acknowledge from where those blessings come. Yet as I have become older and wiser there is not a day that I do not thank the one who created me and gave me those blessings.

Thank You for allowing me to share of myself with you through my art and that gift of talent that God bestowed upon me. I feel truly blessed.

-The GYPSY-

The Artist Life: The Grand

Posted on September 30, 2022 by admin

Art Takes On Many Forms. Some Art Creates Magic Memories.

Once upon a time there was a quaint little village called Topeka in an enchanted land known as Kansas.

The village of Topeka was not remarkable as villages go. The native Topekan’s were friendly people who took care of the needs of their village. Working hard from sunrise to sunset the people of the village had little to entertain them.

One day a powerful Magician visited the village and saw that the hard working Topekan’s needed some way to relax and re-energize their spirit. Picking a large Sunflower from a local field the Magician waved it in the air and in the middle of the village appeared a Grand Palace; a magical and wondrous place.

Brightly colored carpets led to sparkling glass and chrome counters which displayed the most wonderful treats the villagers have ever seen. There were Sweets and Sours, Corn Light as Air and Drinks in all Colors of the Rainbow, Ice that had been Creamed and Beans of Jelly were the delights that the Villagers could partake in.

Within its blue walls lit by orange lights the Topeka Villagers could relax in cool darkness on velvet thrones. Within the soothing shadows the Magician would shine his lantern on velvety, gold gilded curtains that reached to a ceiling so high above that the top of it could barely be seen by the Topekan’s below. And as the lantern illuminated the Grand Curtain it would slowly part and reveal behind it’s secret folds a silvery land wherein the most talented of performers dwelled. There were Nuns who Sang, Eunuchs who Jest, Spies who Dance and Cowboys who Croon. There were Monsters and Madmen, Bears and Mermaids, Kings and Queens, Hero’s and Villains and all would entertain for a small offering of only a couple of shinning tokens.

For years this Magical Grand Palace gave the Villagers of Topeka in the land of Kansas a place to escape and renew their soul yet time moves on and the Magician grew old. For you see the magician stayed young from feeding on the energy of the laughter, the tears, the ooh’s and the ah’s, thrills and chills. Yet the villagers of Topeka forgot to feed the Magician.
As the Magician withered away and died so too did the Grand Palace until one day all the magic disappeared and so did the place that had captured that magic.

The villagers of Topeka scarce noticed that the marvelous Grand Palace was disappearing until it was gone. Then, on that day that the last brick of the magical place was wiped from the earth forever they bemoaned the loss, swearing to never let another Palace as Grand as that one had been disappear from the village ever again.

So it is that the resourceful Topekans strive to keep another Magical Palace alive for within it’s walls lives a strange and rare creature known as a Jayhawk. The villagers have learned that to keep the magic alive you must feed the creator of the spell and they have vowed to feed the Jayhawk.

Yet never again will there be a Palace as Grand as that which was lost to all except those that remember the magic it shared.

-The GYPSY-

The Artist Life: Things To Know About Ghost Towns

Posted on September 16, 2022 by admin

Ghost Towns Offer Unlimited Creative Opportunities For The Artist and Photographer

VISITING A GHOST TOWN CAN INSPIRE YET YOU MUST SHOW RESPECT

I have always had a fascination with ghost towns. I have a deep desire to know their story. How was the town born? What was it like in it’s prime? What caused it to die? And why does it’s ghost linger on long after the town is gone?

As an artist my eye sees beyond the decay. I see the remaining color, the shapes and the textures. Oh those textures! I smell the scents of the town; secret deep scents that still linger long after the last barber gave his last shave. Long after the last Thanksgiving Turkey was cooked. Those scents linger within the rotting wood and crumbling stone. But most importantly I hear the stories the town has to tell and as I listen I reach out my hand and capture those stories.

Sometimes I do it with photography, sometimes with the written word and sometimes with paint but always with the respect that the town earned and deserves. I love ghost towns and I really can’t say why beyond the artistic opportunity that they afford me. Maybe there is something deeper in my psyche that knows that long after I have become a ghost these “Villages of the Lost”, though ghosts themselves, will still be visible to generations to come.

THINGS TO KNOW ABOUT GHOST TOWNS

If you are artistically drawn to visit and capture the stories of ghost towns there are a few important things and rules that should be observed. First and foremost is remember; though it may be a ghost town there may still be living people that call it home. Also though a property may be abandoned does not mean that it is unowned. Do not intrude or trespass! Let’s examine Ghost Towns and how you can show proper respect.

VILLAGES OF THE LOST

A “Ghost Town” is any community that is either abandoned, whose main industry that kept the town vital has ceased to exist or whose population and community infrastructure has declined to a level that recovery into a thriving community is highly improbable. There are three types of Ghost Towns: completely deserted ghost towns; towns with a minimal population; and still-thriving towns.

Philip Varney, the author of several popular Ghost Town books defines what to look for in Ghost Town:

Scattered rubble or site where nature has reclaimed the land
Roofless buildings or partially demolished buildings
Boarded up or abandoned buildings, no population
A community with many abandoned buildings and a small population of residents
Historic community or town, functional, but much smaller than in its boom years
A restored town, state park, or replica of an old town, community or fort

GHOST TOWN CODE OF ETHICS:
The following partially taken and modified by Kathy Weiser/Legends of America from Gary Speck’s Ghost Town Ethics, Ghost Town USA

I WILL NOT
1. Destroy, damage or deface any buildings or other structures.
2. Disturb any structures that are locked or appear to be occupied.
3. Remove anything from the site other than obvious trash such as candy wrappers, soft drink cans, etc.
4. Enter a site that is posted as “No Trespassing” without permission.
5. Take in a metal detector without the permission of the owner. These are often the badge of a vandal to local residents.

I WILL
1. Observe all rules and regulations be they local, state, or national.
2. Camp and make fires only in designated safe locations.
3. Leave the land and vegetation as it is.
4. Fill all holes or excavations I make.
5. Remove and properly dispose of any trash I find, and will not litter.
6. Respect the rights and property of landowners, leave gates as found, and obey all posted signs.
7. Appreciate and protect this nation’s ghost towns and the heritage they represent.
8. Always conduct myself in a manner that is courteous and polite, and always show consideration for others.

Visiting Ghost Towns can always be fun and educational as long as they and the people that have called and may still call them home are respected.

I hope this has given you some inspiration to explore and artistically capture a ghost town or abandoned structure near you. I would love to see your creations. Please join our Facebook Group The Artist Life Creations and share your art and stories.

MORE FREE ART

Posted on July 8, 2022July 22, 2022 by admin

I Have Given Away 340 Pieces Of Free Art Since March 11, 2022

I give away a FREE downloadable Art Print every Friday to my email subscribers. They tell me they are enjoying their free art prints. Do you want some FREE ART? I bet you do!
Well I got you covered.

I’M GIVING MY ART PRINTS AWAY FOR FREE to everyone for a limited time. Yes really. (I’ve already given away nearly 200 the past 2 weeks!)

I am giving away ALL SEVEN prints of the GYPSY ART COLLECTION. But that isn’t all; You will have a lifetime access to the collection so that you can download new art FOR FREE as it is added.

CLICK FOR MORE INFO

June 8, 1966

Posted on June 16, 2022 by admin

I SURVIVED THIS TORNADO

I was 10 years old and was playing on the front porch of our home with my friends. Grandma came outside with Lemonade for us children and stopped in the doorway, she was looking at the sky which had turned a sickly greenish yellow. She calmly said; “Children, let’s go have our Lemonade in the basement.” My best friend Bobby Boyce said that he had to go home. Grandma said; “Run, don’t walk. When you get home tell your parents to look outside and then go and play in your basement.”

Just as we got to the basement the sirens sounded. Grandma rushed upstairs to the second floor where she rented out 3 apartments. She got the tenants to the basement while my Mom got my dog Buster inside. We lived at 7th and Western, 4 blocks from downtown. When mom opened the outside basement door to let Buster in it sounded like a freight train.

As we huddled in the corner Grandma and Mom kept us children calm. They turned up the radio to drown out the outside noise. We listened to a reporter out at Ballard Airport describing the planes being flipped over.

When the all clear sounded Mom escorted my friend’s home. Grandma, who was the Manager of Pelletier’s Department store walked downtown to assess the damage from the storm and to see if the store needed to be secured. One of the tenants, a girl in her mid twenties, walked downtown to sight see against my Grandmas advise, and ended up being the first injury recorded at Stormont-Vail when she ended up stepping on a nail and driving it up through her foot.

In the days following the Tornado Mom, who was a PBX Operator working for an answering service over by Washburn University, put in long hours coordinating emergency calls for Doctors and emergency personnel. National Guard Troops escorted her through the devastation daily as she walked to and from work.
Grandma coordinated food and clothing drives through our church, First Church of the Nazarene. She also worked soup lines with the Red Cross and she urged other Pelletier’s employees to do the same thing.

Before the Tornado I had been taking Saturday Morning art classes at the Mulvane Art Gallery at Washburn University. But now that the roof of the Mulvane was parked in the parking lot our classes were moved to homes of the instructors. I still remember the unearthly feeling of walking to my art classes and seeing what had been being no more.

Our house did receive damage. A maple leaf blew through a storm window in the exact shape of the leaf. Our home got listed as the house that had received the least amount of storm damage. Grandma kept the piece of glass, leaf and article in a frame for years.

I do not think that there was one living soul who was a resident of Topeka at that time that was not touched by this monster in one way or another. I thank the Lord for those that survived and pray that he took those who didn’t into his Kingdom that day.

The days that followed were life changing for me. For the first time in my life I truly understood beauty from ugliness, calm from turmoil and peace from horror. My art in the days that followed reflected this. Even now, all these years later I see things in a different way and it translates into my art.

I have a healthy respect for the forces of nature and never take each day or moment for granted.

-The GYPSY-

“Art Must Evoke An Emotion In Order To Be Art. If It Only Evokes Indifference It Is Not Art It Is Garbage.”

The Artist Life: Rare Circus Art

Posted on June 2, 2022 by admin

Circus Art Is Created To Create Feelings Of Excitement And It Works.

The Circus Poster Hailed The Most Magical Time Of The Year… Circus Time!

I own the two circus posters pictured and a couple of more. Every time I look at them they make me smile and bring back wonderful memories of fantasy, fun and family. But they also represent so much more than that to me; they represent a colorful history and a captured moment in time.

As a child I would wander the downtown streets of Topeka. My mother was the Toy Department Manager At Pelletier’s Department Store and my Grandmother was the Children’s Department Manager at the same store. I spent a lot of time at the store but when I became bored the downtown streets became my playground.

I would walk the streets looking in store windows, browsing the book store for the newest comics and reading the fliers of coming events taped to store windows. When the circus posters appeared on the windows my excitement was untamed. The bright colors, laughing clowns, performers and animals rendered by skilled artists took my child’s mind into a world I wanted to live in.

Little did I know at the time was that many of my people, Romani, had been and still are circus performers. The history of Gypsy circus performers is a long one and maybe my desire to be part of it was something that is within my blood.

I would pester my mother and grandmother without mercy until they would say, “Yes, we are going to the circus.” I had daydreams of becoming a circus clown, making people laugh and yes… creating the artwork for the great posters that fueled those daydreams. But my talents took me down a different artistic path in my life though for a couple of years in the late 1990’s I did become a professional clown.

Where the circus started has been discussed by historians for years but it is believed that the modern circus began in the United Kingdom in 1768. Circuses needed to market themselves as they began to tour and their popularity grew, In the 18th and 19th centuries, circuses were truly the realm of magic and dreams.

Since circuses are often in a town for only a couple of days a sense of anticipation was necessary. The promoters of the circus this and so the circus poster was used to communicate the fantasy and excitement, and the momentary magic of a circus’ brief stay.

Circus promoters used some of the earliest forms of aggressive marketing, like saturation advertising. The urgency was necessary to lure attendees to an event that only happened nearby for one day out of the year. Circuses are not strangers to a little bit of exaggeration and the circus poster reflects this. Headlines such as ‘The Greatest Show on Earth’ or “Renowned Great Show”, written in bold type and colorful font were used to entice potential attendees. The circus poster used stylized printing techniques, with the use of lithography, which gave circus posters their vivid, colorful look.

Circus posters capture the color of the circus, animal images and the carnival atmosphere of the circus show. Circus poster are remarkable artform and those who collect them appreciate the unique aspect of the art. I have collected circus poster images from all over the world and from all periods of time but by far, in my opinion, the American Circus Poster is the most colorful and artistic.

The artistic aspect of circus posters help correct misnomers and stereotypes around the circus. Fear of clowns or misinformation put forth by well meaning animal rights groups can all be dispelled by looking at a circus poster. Movies like “Killer Clowns from Outer Space” or Stephen Kings “It” helped nurture a fear of clowns. But how can someone look at the smiling and cheerful face of the clown on a circus poster and be afraid?

Likewise the animals portrayed on the posters echo the actual animals of the circus. The animals show, within the poster, that they are well cared for and loved, so it is with the actual circus animals. American Circus animals, just like American zoo animals, are governed by rules and regulations set up by the Federal Government and closely monitored by the Humane Society of America.

Circus posters lesson the fear of clowns and dispel misinformation about circus animals through artistic interpretation and a high level of integrity. Some of the greatest Circus Posters ever designed were by Ringling Brothers Barnum-Bailey Circus. They preserve and record the history of the circus; animals, clown and performers. Circus posters keep the excitement and anticipation of the magic and fantasy alive.

It will always alive in me and I will always continue to smile and be uplifted whenever I look at the art of the Circus Poster.

-The GYPSY-

Passion & Redemption Comparison 1973 - 2022

The Artist Life: Passion and Redemption

Posted on June 1, 2022 by admin

PASSION AND REDEMPTION

I sat in my Highschool art class and stared at the 11″ x 14″ canvas board on the table before me. I squinted my eyes trying to make the image on the board look better. I closed one eye and tilted my head. No matter what I did I could not make the image I had just painted look like anything I would be happy with.

The biggest critic an artist has is themselves and this day I was ultra critical. I had mastered pencils, charcoal, watercolor as well as pen and ink but this was my first step into acrylic painting. As far as I was concerned I had indeed really stepped into it and the canvas before me was a stink I couldn’t wipe off my show.

“Is that Jesus?” The question came from Karla Weigman. Karla was not only one of the smartest students in my small Highschool of West Platte RII in Weston, Missouri she was also one of the most popular.

I was not popular, I was poor and an outcast. My long hair separated me from the majority of the other students in my class who were country boys and girls. I was a city boy and different; a fish out of water. This never seemed to matter to Karla and she was always friendly with me and always had a smile for me whenever we met.

“Yes”, I said, “I guess so.” Karla picked up the canvas and looked at it. “I really like this” she said. “You like it?” I scrunched up my nose. “Yes, it is very nice.” I looked at her to see if she was kidding; she wasn’t. “You can have it.” Karla looked surprised. “Really?” I smiled, “Yes, really. I’m glad you like it.” That was the last time I saw the painting until a couple of years ago.

Karla had found me on Facebook and Friended me. Shortly after I accepted her friend request she posted a photo of the painting on my timeline. My jaw hit the floor. I had not thought about that painting in almost 40 years. I had almost forgot that it had existed and now here I was staring at my first attempt at acrylic painting.

I do not know what shocked me more; the fact that I was looking at a painting I had attempted at 16 years of age or the fact that my friend had, in all reality, archived my first attempt and preserved it.

As I looked at this painting that had come back to haunt me after all those years in obscurity I resolved that there was something I must do; I must see this as the zero mile marker at the beginning of my artistic journey. I could no longer regard this painting from 1973 as something better left forgotten it was now so much more. This poorly rendered acrylic painting connected my past with my present and the impact was palatable and enduring.

As I studied the painting the first thing I noted was the effect I had attempted to create; the head of Jesus on the cross emerging from the blackened shadows. I remembered that I wanted to make a statement on how the sacrifice of Christ brings us out of the dark and into the light. If I had done this painting in pencil the effect would have been dramatic. However my unskilled hand with acrylic paint made the head of Jesus look misshapen.

The next thing that caught my eye was the garish pinkness of the face. I am sure that in my feeble understanding on how to mix acrylic color kept me from getting a Caucasian flesh tone which I could have easily have done with watercolors. I did notice that I was at least on the right track with the shading in the face but oh that all too pointed nose. Which brings us to my next observation; the hair and beard.

Like most people my age I grew up with “Euro-Jesus” the Blond Haired Blue Eyed Nordic God of Jerusalem. Thanks to the Medieval, Renaissance and Contemporary Artists of my age I just assumed that everyone from the middle east, Jesus included, were Caucasian and of fair hair and skin. Heck, not even the Romans who sealed his fate were lily white or as my painting depicted Peony pink. Now knowing that Jesus was Jewish and not a Germanic ideal I shake my head in the deception that was perpetrated on generations by artists like Da Vinci, Michelangelo, Cervantes, Raphael and myself.

Looking at the crown of thorns I shudder. If I had created them in Pen and Ink there would have been depth and detail. These thorns looked like a mass of worms that had been executed with a pen cushion and the blood, oh the blood. I could have created more realistic flows of blood using my Charcoal Pencil than I did with the globs of red that I splash on the face of my unfortunate depiction of the savior. I had to remedy my artistic blunders and find redemption.

Now you will note that I used the word “Blunder” and not “Mistake”. There are no mistakes in art, just as Bob Ross observed, only “Happy Accidents. To my state of mind this blunder verged on the edge of an 18 car pile up at the bottom of the Grand Canyon. I resolved to create a new acrylic painting using the same subject matter, The Crucifixion of Christ, and put into that painting all I have learned since 1973 and all I continue to learn. The only question was; when would I do it?

To try to explain to you when inspiration comes for me to create the art I create would be like me trying to explain what lies beyond a Black Hole in space; impossible. Just suffice it to say that I had to wait for the inspiration to hit me at the right time. That inspiration hit on Easter Sunday of 2022 five years after Karla posted the photo on my Facebook page. I set to work and documented each step of the process. As I worked I watched such movies as “The Greatest Story Ever Told”, “Ben Hur” and “Jesus of Nazareth” so that I could stay focused for the task at hand.

I finished the painting and named it “Passion”. The name was not only for the Passion of Christ but also represented the Passion I have had for my God given Artistic Talent my entire life. I sent it to Art Print Express in Topeka to be digitized so that I would have an archive copy for future printing purposes. I knew, when I set out to do this painting that it would never be one that was for sale. This painting would be a gift, a token of my gratitude to Karla Weigman for preserving my first attempt at Acrylic painting.

Now you might ask; if you disliked the original painting so much why are you grateful that she saved it? Because, without her preservation of my first effort I would have never had the opportunity to truly understand how far I have come on my artistic journey. I cannot tell you how many paintings I have created since that very first one, they are to numerous to count. What I can tell you is that each one was a milestone along my road. That road is one that will end one day on this earth but until it does I will continue to create art and mark each milestone. My hope is that by the time I get to heaven I am worthy to paint for eternity next to the masters that have come before me.

On Monday May 23, 2022 I mailed “Passion” to Karla. She received it on May 25, 2022. It is now at home with it’s ancestor, “Head of Christ”.

-The GYPSY-

The Artist Life: Topeka Spring Eve

Posted on May 19, 2022 by admin

Daffodils and Peonies lift up their scent from the garden below

Through the window their fragrance drifts poignant and ever slow

The sun settles towards the west drawing with it the last light

Shadows creep across the floor chasing the day from our sight

Soft breeze rustles the blinds, music swaying the slats and cord

Wood grain trails from wall to wall changing with each board

Mindless chatter touches the dusty air around the empty time

Coffee, tea and laughter fight on the screens electric vertical line

Images fade to a small gray dot as the oak box is shut off

Cracking, popping its protest as I exit the door of the loft

New leaves wave as I pass under their light green ceiling

Young grass dances upon the walkway blind and unfeeling

Houses of white, gray board and brick fade behind a tree

Structures of granite, marble, and stone loom ahead of me

Car radio blares out Broadway, a street in a city far away

As I step upon broad Kansas a street in this city today

Light glows green, mocking the color of Topeka’s Capitol dome

Autos suddenly stop their engines belching protest as I roam

Lines in a sidewalk try to jump forth and break my mom’s back

I dodge and weave counting steps so I may avoid each evil crack

Old people stare at women where men browse and children play

Searching for the news, fiction or just a thing too important to say

The smell of tomes, newsprint, candles, candy, ink old and stale

Fills the fluorescent glow of the interior where the world is for sale

Casper, Superman, Batman and Wendy reach to me from the rack

Richie Rich, Mighty Mouse, Flash and Spooky beg me from the stack

I flip the pages as the four colors explode into tempting allure

Nightmare, Green Lantern, Black Hawk, or Dot I’m just not sure

My choices are made held secure and close to my heart within one arm

The rest returned to their slant seat awaiting for the next soul to charm

Silvery coin to clerk, butterscotch stick in mouth I leave with my treasure

Turning towards home I direct my step anticipating hours of pleasure

The red and white machine looms ahead wherein the green bottle lies

Dime in the slot, Twist of the handle to hear the slide and out it flies

Cap popped off as the fizz escapes and tiny bubbles fill the dusky sky

Icy cold the syrupy liquid sharp and sweet burns the throat till I cry

In one hand the bottle kept intact for the two pennies it has earned

In the other hand the magic paper whose pages wait to be turned

Red sky turns purple as blue lights high above hum to dull glow

The cobbled walk tries to trip my step as it leads me home too slow

Upon my porch the round orb above casts it’s yellow and hazy light

As moths and their cousins dance and swarm within their endless flight

The brown, rusty springs stretch on the end of the porch swing chain

Screaming their protest as my weight settles in the seat that I claim

Lost with Uncle Scrooge, Huey, Dewey and Louie within a vault

I sail away until mother calls me to bed, until tomorrow I shall halt

But upon the sunny morning I shall again be whisked far and away

As Hot Stuff, Green Arrow and Lottie jump forth and ask me to play

And when the magic has been used up within the pages faint and torn

Again shall I visit the World News Stand where my mind can be reborn

-The GYPSY-

The Artist Life: Yeso

Posted on April 24, 2022 by admin

YESO

I rolled down the endless highway into the bright New Mexico day. Clouds hung low in the blue morning sky like poly fiber torn from an over stuffed pillow. As I rolled along I knew that the soft clouds could gather into a storm, I watched the sky with wary eye.

Mile after mile passed beneath my wheels as I headed east along Highway 60 towards Ft. Sumner. I watched the Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe tracks running along side the road, rail keeping pace with asphalt.

The clouds had congealed into a soft gray mass and I prayed that if they opened it would be a quick desert rain and not a deluge of biblical proportions.

I was thinking about the last 22 miles I had to travel to our destination when I topped a rise in the highway and there it was; A Ghost Town!

I grabbed brake, instinctively, pulling onto the dusty shoulder in front of, what was once, the dead towns post office. I did not have to wonder if I should stop, I knew the answer. My artist eyes had seen this treasure and I knew Yeso, New Mexico was mine for the taking.

Yeso means “gypsum” in Spanish; the town was established in 1906, when the AT&SF RR came to the area, and it became a trading center for ranchers (and the very few farmers) in the area.

Its post office began operations in 1909, and is now the towns only business servicing the nearby ranch’s from a small metal building. The postmaster lives behind the small office in a 5th wheel trailer.

Yeso was spelled Yesso during the years 1912-1913, for unknown reasons. When it became clear that the land was not suited for farming, and only useful for sheepherding and cattle grazing, many of the original settlers moved away. Only a hand full of people still call Yeso home. On this day I was Yeso’s only tourist.

Yeso is a true ghost town in every sense of the word. It’s abandoned red adobe brick buildings are slowly returning to the earth from which they arose.

Open doorways beckon you into passages dimly lit by the ambient light of the desert sky. Sage and course grass cover areas of collapsed flooring like a rolling carpet of dusty green and dark sienna. Empty windows stare out at the world while tumble weed residents roll along long forgotten sidewalks.

Here and there you can hear the residents of this once thriving town talking to each other. The desert finch warns the curious Kangaroo rat that the red tail hawk is nearby while the crows gossip about what the diamondback did last evening. If you listen even closer you can still hear echo’s of the human voices that once filled the vacant structure’s.

I moved around the town, photo after photo capturing what one day would be no more than a dusty pile along a busy road. Foundations that served as planters for prickly pear and cholla cactus today would tomorrow be nothing more than a mound from which creosote arose.

My camera’s shutters click, click, click was answered by the whistling wind that played through missing roofs and broken rafters. I speculated on belongings left behind and what the town must have been like when it was populated with humans instead of desert willows.

I returned to the highway and continued on towards Ft. Sumner. The thick gray clouds were started to thin out as I rolled on. I looked in my rearview mirror one more time for a final look at Yeso. The desert ghost town disappeared from my view as it would one day disappear from the world. It will be forever lost to the ages but captured, at least for a brief time upon my film to one day be brought back to a tenuous life upon my canvas’s resurrected by an artists brush.

-The GYPSY-