The first of the talismans to come of our Mojave trip. These are just fantastic pieces, some of the best textures I’ve ever made, from a very serendipitous find. And in my Etsy shop you’ll find a new pair of earrings molded from Death Valley stone.
desert
:: In the Mojave Part 1 :: Death Valley ::
The all-day drive was worth it, getting up at first light and piling everything in the Subaru, then speeding down I-40 across New Mexico, Arizona, and Nevada to arrive in Death Valley National Park in time for the last light and a spectacular steak dinner. My 32 year old son, Max Bush, was with me on this trip and we were both pretty excited to explore some new territory. I’d hardly seen him this past fall, since he was in his first semester at UNM studying history, and our plan was to see Death Valley, then drive through the Mojave National Preserve and head down to Joshua Tree.
This was our first time in Death Valley and we were just blown away.
Food and accommodations in the park are sparse and remote, and because tourists are a captive audience very overpriced. But having said that, our stay at the Ranch was very pleasant…palm trees and golf courses curiously juxtaposed with Christmas decorations that hadn’t been taken down yet. The food didn’t disappoint, either…although the saloon (yes, it was a saloon) was a bit of taxidermic circus, cougars and coyotes and elk eyeing us glassily as we devoured our steaks. For the days, we had brought a bag of trail snacks to get us through…and a bottle of Colkegan, our excellent local whiskey from Santa Fe, for the evenings.
In the morning we headed to Zabriskie Point to see the view. What we figured would be a short stop turned out taking us half the day because it was so spectacular…and because we discovered this trail…
It was pretty precipitous, the kind of trail where you really had to pay attention to where you were putting your feet at all times. But totally worth it for the views, and the amazing rocks underfoot. We went out a good ways, and at a high point I made three silicone molds on some rocks before we turned around. Amazing textures, and the first silver clay earrings I’ve made from them look fantastic. They’ll be showing up in one of my shops soon.
We backtracked down and then took the easy trail through the badlands wash below, wandering along it for a while, enjoying the warm sun. Death Valley does hold the record for the hottest temperatures recorded at 134 degrees, but in the dead of winter it was in the 60s, which felt pretty good considering the cold winter we’ve been having in northern New Mexico. Then it was off to Stovepipe Wells for a late lunch before we tackled the Mesquite Flats Dunes.
The dunes were HIGH, several hundred feet. Not a big, expansive field like White Sands, but a huddled constellation of dunes, a tall ridge at the center. We duly slogged up them and were rewarded with a tremendous view of the valley. But the sun was setting and it was getting cold…time to head back for the night.
The next morning it was the salt.
I have always been fascinated by salt flats, but had never been out on one before. The Badwater Basin is a vast floor of salt, the lowest point in North America, 282 feet below sea level. It felt strange, to know you were that far down. A sign perched high on the ridge above the parking area said “SEA LEVEL” just to drive the point home. It was a chilly morning and the flats were damp, and underwater to the south of us. We walked out for about a mile or so onto the pan, salt crunching underfoot. When we approached the verge of the water the sound changed to a glasslike, tinkery sound that was somehow very appealing.
Away from the water, the salt was sectioned into large polygonal forms rimmed with crusty crystalline filaments. The formations surprised me; I thought salt only formed into cubic crystals, but these looked fluffy, like wool. I put down my jacket as the surface was still a bit damp, and stayed for a while. It is almost pure sodium chloride—table salt: we tasted it and it was perfectly delicious. And so much of it. I got out my silver metal clay to see if I could make some impressions in the surface of one of the polygons. It worked: four good pieces came of that.
One thing these pictures absolutely do not convey is the titanic scale of the place. Those mountains behind Max are over 11,000 feet high from salt to summit. Behind us, we were looking at the Amargosa range, also thousands of feet high.
In the still air of the morning, sound took on strange qualities. Cars, nearly invisible and many miles away on the road, could be heard as if they were only a couple of hundred feet away. The conversations of people almost half a mile away came to us clearly. Scale, clarity and stillness are what I remember most about the place.
Next we took a short hike up to a beautiful little natural bridge that had been punched by floodwaters through the conglomerate of a side canyon. Although it doesn’t look it, the wash was pretty steep and I would have hated to be caught there when the water came down.
A few paces beyond was a dry waterfall which must be spectacular when running.
We headed back down and took the turn for Artists Drive, through the multicolored eroded landscape of the Amargosa foothills. Death Valley is pure, raw earth, almost entirely empty of plants. I have never seen anyplace with so much exposed earth, and the colors and landforms were simply stunning.
The Artist’s Palette was the main stop along the road. I’m a big fan of badlands but I’ve never seen such a jumble of colors in one place before. Turquoise, chocolate brown, rose, golden ochre, sienna brown, ivory, grey…all together in a sharply delineated patchwork. There was no rhyme or reason to it. If only I could have gathered those colors for pigments…
Our last stop was the most eerie and disquieting place I’ve ever seen, the Devil’s Golf Course.
Just a few miles up from the salt flats we visited that morning, the level pan changed into an unbelievably forbidding bonescape of piled clods of jagged salt. About 1 1/2 feet high and set at every angle, these formations were separated by pits where it was just possible to put your feet if you were very, very careful. The salt was hard and sharp, with strange apertures opening into the earth.
Clouds were rolling in and the light had turned grey, making this bleak landscape look even bleaker. Max and I picked our way, amazed, out through the formations for a short time, but we found we didn’t want to linger. It was just a little too weird. Time for a drink and something to eat. We headed back up valley to check out the historic Death Valley Inn. Built in the 20s, it was a beautifully preserved and welcoming place, especially after that salt, and we snagged a table in the lounge with a lovely view for drinks and their charcuterie board…delicious. It ended up being enough for dinner. I’ll have to save up and splurge on a couple of nights there someday…
As I write this, several inches of snow are falling here at home in Placitas. What a contrast to these places! The second part of our adventures will come soon…
Until then, blessings…
Dawn
:: Back From the Mojave ::
Well, I’m back from a truly epic trip to the Mojave desert with my son, Max, and as I write this the kiln is already full of silver pieces being fired. We traveled through an extraordinary variety of landscapes—rugged badlands, granite boulder piles, salt flats, thousand-foot dunes, raw volcanic fields, and endless stretches of bajada. I came away with several new molds, metal clay elements impressed on stone and salt, and my usual collection of rocks, sand and ephemera.
I took many pictures with my phone but can’t seem to figure out how to get them en masse from point A to point B, but I will manage somehow because I would like to post them in a blog…just so you can see the incredible environments these new talismans are coming from. Stay tuned for that…it always takes me quite a while to fully return home and integrate all of it. My body may travel at 85 mph in the car, but my soul likes to walk…
Blessings,
Dawn
:: A New Painting Begins! ::
Well, you’ve probably been wondering what I’ve been up to since you’ve not been seeing a lot of new talismans appear in recent weeks. It’s because I’ve decided to start painting again! Some of you may know I started out life as an sci-fi/fantasy illustrator and then fine artist, but about 10 years ago switched to jewelry full time. Recently the desire to paint has returned in a powerful way and even though I have four large pieces still awaiting completion, a new one has come through and I’m going to go with it since it’s been rather insistent.
Preparing for a painting is a lot of work. The first stages are all about concept and preliminary sketches. This one comes from an old pastel piece I did a few years ago. It was fairly well along and I liked where it was going, but when I went to spray it with fixatif, the stuff spattered all over it and ruined the piece. I set the piece aside but thankfully kept it, and a couple of weeks ago I decided to develop the idea a little further, as you can see from the sketchbook and another quick color piece.
Most of my sketches like those in the book are just a few gestural lines as I start pulling a concept and composition together. I did several of those. Next I wanted to work up a loose chalk color study in the correct proportion of the final piece, which would be a 20” x 44” panel.
Like the one that was ruined, this is on blue toned paper. The scene is on a desert planet, set high on the edge of a red rock mesa which overlooks a vast plain of salt over a thousand feet below. The sun has just set and the afterglow has painted the rocks with flamelike color. In fact, this section is called the Fire Altar. The rock formations are actually closely layered fins, very broad when viewed from one direction, but when seen edge on, as they are here, they look like flames. The idea for them came from the granite formations of White Tank in Joshua Tree National Park and the Fiery Furnace in Arches.
I also played with the composition and dimensions a bit, giving it a more panoramic line.
The moon is rising; the planet actually has a second captured moon, a tiny irregular reddish rock that I was going to put into the frame, but found it distracting. What you don’t see well are the linear arrays of thousands of pylons of luminous green, aqua and blue stone out on the salt. This is a breathtaking sight that I’ve wanted to paint for years. That will come out more in the final painting.
At this point I was ready to start the painting, which meant prepping the panel. So, on to Home Depot where I purchased a 4’ x 8’ sheet of hardboard and had them cut it to size. Then the real work began. I like a very smooth surface, which means several coats of thinned acrylic gesso, sanded between each coat. Thanks to our hot high desert sun and single digit humidity, I was able to complete the entire job in a day, but it was a workout. Each coat was brushed on, then the board was set out in the sun to dry, then brought back in and sanded. I did this eight times to get an even, bright white coat…messy, sweaty work. The next day I gave the coat a final sanding with 400 grit sandpaper, bringing it up a vellum-like surface.
After three days to let the panel dry, today it was ready for the ground. I brushed on a thin layer of tanzanite-hued pigment thinned with turpentine, then removed most of it with a rag. This emulates the toned paper of the studies, and as the image is built up on top of it, it will impart a luminous glow that subtly shines through the layers. The base color of this ground will also help chromatically unify the piece…kind of like its soul color.
Ah, the smell of turpentine. I’ve missed it. Once this dries, I’ll start working up the underpainting. Until then, it’s jewelry making time!
Have a great weekend!
Dawn
:: Ancient Totems and Talismans ::
Two bold and beautiful Desert Talismans for you today, full of ancient energy…
desert sanctuary
Not long after we moved here 19 years ago, we discovered Ojito Wilderness, a pristine area on public land near Zia and Jemez Pueblos. Back then it was still years away from its official Wilderness designation, but we were amazed at how remote it felt, given its relative proximity to Albuquerque and Santa Fe. It became an instant favorite for hiking. For such a small area, Ojito and surrounds have a huge variety of landscapes varying from bentonite badlands to pinon-juniper forest to Anasazi ruins. Fossils abound. (Several years ago, some hikers found what looked like fossilized bones. They turned out to be those of a seismosaurus, one of the largest dinosaurs ever discovered. After months of extracting them from the hard sandstone, they're now in the New Mexico Museum of Natural History. Curiously enough, I happened to tour the museum's fossil repository the evening after I wrote this, and saw the actual section of vertebrae. They are huge. Photos of them are in the set below.) Over the years we've found petrified wood, fossilized dinosaur teeth, and gastroliths. I've taken imprints of clamshells embedded in mesa cliffs for jewelry. Even today I still discover something new every time I go.
I took these pictures on my phone back in March. It was one of those stunningly clear days that I just love. My husband, Michael, and I hiked to a remote section that I call the Sanctuary. It has a special feeling, and it's one of the most beautiful places I've found in Northern New Mexico. Elk trails lead to formations of pale golden-white sandstone create alcoves, labyrinths and rooms floored with fine cream colored sand. Hoodoos tower above, with dark ochre mesa cliffs as a backdrop. In places, the ground is strewn with logs and fragments of remarkable gold and white petrified wood. A relict population of Ponderosa pines, many stunted into bonsai shapes, provide shade. The balsamic vanilla fragrance of their bark floats on the breeze. There's such a sense of tranquility there...a beautiful place for dreaming and contemplation.
More hoodoos and stonescapes. Yes, the sky really was that blue.
Some people ask why we "need" wilderness. I think that if you even have to ask, you may never understand the answer. The reality of it, and the experience of being in places like this, go far beyond words. And it is absolutely necessary to our wholeness and well-being.
'Till next time...happy trails.