Come Gila or high water

Something I've learned over the years is that the longer you live somewhere, the less likely you are to go visit the more unique things around you. Whether it's feeling like you'll always have the opportunity or being jaded and not wanting to fight a bunch of tourists, the results are the same.  Fewer Arizonans than you think have been to the Grand Canyon or Sedona or one of the tiny ghost towns hidden in the desert mountains; the same with Floridians and the Everglades or Alaskans and the Arctic Circle. 

There are many historical indigenous sites that predate the U.S. scattered throughout the southwest.  Some of the most famous are the cliff-dwellings.  It's a little embarrassing, but despite living for over 10 years in Arizona, I had never been to one--so when I found out that there was a cliff-dwelling only a couple hours away from us I naturally piled the kids in the van and started driving.  Four hours later found us winding carefully down steep hills in the Gila National Forest.  The clouds had gathered during our drive and threatened rain, but after four hours in the van, we were going to finish the mission if it killed us.  There was no turning back.

The Gila Cliff Dwellings are tucked away in a narrow canyon thick with oak and pine, accessible by a mile long track that snakes through the forest and up the side of a cliff.  It is a series of 46 linked rooms built across five caves halfway up the cliff by the Mimbres Mogollon people in the late 1200s.  The monument itself was designated in 1907 by President Theodore Roosevelt (a notable historian and naturalist responsible for many of our natural parks, among other things--he's a really interesting guy, look him up, there's an absolutely fascinating documentary on the interwebs called The Roosevelts).

                                              

The girls would have been satisfied just to play in the Gila River, but we herded them onto the trail.  The track was rocky but not too steep, and even the climb up to the dwellings was a reasonable grade with enough switchbacks to keep those of us who aren't exactly in peak physical condition from dying.  We saw a lizard, a deer, and numerous small birds.  Since Rick and I are natural pedants, the girls were the grudging recipients of lectures on southwestern geology, erosion, trail medicine, and all the Mogollon facts we could find courtesy of Google.  Thanks to the clouds, it was twenty degrees cooler than it should have been, a truly perfect day to be hiking.

The rain held back until we made it into the caves and then...it was incredible. We just sat and watched the rain sheeting down through the canyon, listened to the wind shirring through the trees below us.  It was perfect.  And the smells of the creosote, the damp oak and pine, the thirsty red earth and sweet grass...nothing, and I mean nothing, smells better than rain in the desert.

It was fascinating to walk through the dwellings, and all too easy to imagine people living there.  The hearths, the private rooms and public spaces, the soot stains on the ceiling, each brick and stone hauled up and carefully placed, the location close to water but hidden behind the curves of the canyon, easily defensible...If the southwest had castles, this would be one of them.

The walk back was full of more lectures and jokes, along with grumbling about being hungry (to protect the site, food is discouraged on the trail).  Even though the rain lightened up, everyone was wet by the time we got back to the van.  Nobody really minded.  Then it was a brief stop at the visitors' center and four hours home.  Despite the length of the drive and the relatively short hour and change we spent on the trail itself, it was unanimously voted the favorite hike of the last three and a half years.  Even my more hike-averse children want to go back, which is a win.  If you're ever in the area, I recommend it. 

I hope it rains for you.

I'm not Da Vinci, but I'll take a shot anyway.

It's been a couple of years since our first string of recreations.  They were a fun diversion during the monotony of Covid, but outside of quarantine life speeds up and there's shockingly little time for playing dress-up.  At any rate, I remember them as fun but inherently stressful, with much cajoling and complaining, bribes and threats to achieve the end results.  My kids apparently remember them differently, and still occasionally ask to do more.  Here are the handful we've managed to do over the last year.  Enjoy.

The Death of Julius Caesar

Vincenzo Camuccini

Oils, 1806

 Vincenzo Camuccini was an Italian painter who specialized in Classical historic and religious paintings.  He was born in Rome and trained as a picture-restorer before turning to painting.  He eventually gained prominence as a portrait artist, painting some of the most notable people of his day.  

The Death of Julius Caesar was his first independent work.  The first version was completed around 1798, but he disliked it and started over; the second version was completed in 1806.  As you might guess from the name, it depicts the death of the first Roman emperor at the hands of the Senate on the Ides of March in 44 B.C.  Caesar was stabbed 23 times.  The Senators claimed to be acting out of fears that Caesar was undermining the Republic, but despite their actions it led to a civil war and the Republic would be ruled by emperors for the next 500 years until its fall.

What I like about this picture is the variety of emotions expressed in it.  Caesar, noble and larger than life even as he falls, and the senators run the gauntlet from passion and hate to shame and hesitation.  The scene is incredibly dynamic.  This was one of the easiest to recreate.  Have bedsheets and wide range of easily accessible knives, will stab.

Boreas

John William Waterhouse

Oil on Canvas, 1903

Apparently, if you're doing recreations, you can't get away from the Pre-Raphaelites.  They pop up everywhere like daisies.

Waterhouse's work, if you remember from previous posts, focused mostly on women from Greek mythology and Arthurian legend.  He was born to painters and grew up among artists of many kinds. Many of his paintings are based on works from Homer, Ovid, Shakespeare, Tennyson, and Keats.  He is most famous for his string of Ophelia paintings, which depict the doomed heroine from Hamlet.  Waterhouse died from cancer in 1917, and is buried in London.

The painting is named after Boreas, the Greek god of the north wind.  It is notable for having been "misplaced" for some 90 years, then sold at auction for $1.3 million.  Like many other pieces of Waterhouse's, it depicts a young woman in nature.  The setting is less idyllic, the rough northern wind buffeting the young woman, but she still has a serenity and stillness in the storm that harkens back to Greek statuary.  The painting is deceptively simple; the longer you look the more detail you see, from the intricate folds in her shawl to the ornate pattern on her dress to the windblown flowers about her knees.  Incredible.

It was challenging to recreate this one because while we have no shortage of wind in our corner of Texas, it doesn't blow on demand or in the direction you want, even when you ask nicely.  Cloth doesn't always billow artistically, either.  Oh well.

Vanity

Frank Cadogan Cowper

Oil on panel, 1907

Frank Cadogan Cowper is an English Artist who worked in oils, tempera, and watercolor; he also worked as a book illustrator and worked on a mural in the Houses of Parliament with several other artists.  He is sometimes described as "the last Pre-Raphaelite" because although he was not one of the original brotherhood, his paintings echoed the rich colors, complex emotions, and detailed compositions for which the Pre-Raphaelites were celebrated.

Vanity is one of Cowper's most famous paintings.  The title refers to paintings popular in the 16th and 17th centuries known as vanitas, which were meant to remind the viewers of their mortality.  We are meant to realize that everything in the painting will fade and die, and so shall we.  The young woman is typical of Pre-Raphaelite subjects, richly dressed and with long reddish hair.  She is mostly dressed in the style of the Italian Renaissance, but a few of her accessories--the silver hand mirror and string of pearls--were more common to the early 1900s when Cowper was painting.  It was perhaps a way of making this painting and its theme more universal.

I don't have a lot to say about this production.  J is typically a one-shot model, she just seems to get it.  The grapes came from our own vine in the backyard.  The one real change I'd make is that I would have put down a yellow cloth, I missed a detail on this one.

The Garden of Death

Hugo Simberg

Watercolor and Gouache, 1896

One of the odd ducks in our group of artists, Hugo Simberg was a Finnish symbolist painter and graphic artist.  His works are often macabre or supernatural in nature, with a contradictory subject.  Symbolist artists sought to represent absolute truths through language and metaphors, and was primarily a reaction to the naturalist and realist movements.  The lack of concern with realism is apparent in the lack of depth and perspective in the painting; the skeletons and garden beds are almost flat, and the skeletons are very similar in size despite the second and third being farther back in the picture.  The meaning of the picture, not the objects in it, is the most important thing.

Like his most famous painting, The Wounded Angel, The Garden of Death is a prime example of symbolism.  The skeletons, typically a symbol of death, are tending to a thriving garden, which is usually a sign of rebirth and life. Instead of being frightening, the genial, gentle depiction of the skeleton gardeners--almost monk-like in their cassocks--offer another perspective on death.  Rather than a final end, we can infer that death nourishes life. It also references the Garden of Eden and the Garden of Gethsemane, both of which were intricately linked with death and life and transcendence.  The exact meaning has been debated for decades because Simberg preferred to let his audience interpret his work.  What is clear, however, is that Simberg had a fondness for this painting as he reproduced it several times, including as a fresco in the Tampere Cathedral.

This is one time my costume box failed me and we had to hit the store.  A couple pairs of white pantyhose as well as an entire compact of black eyeshadow were sacrificed, but we managed to make three skeletons that didn't melt in the El Paso sun.  They also couldn't resist throwing some sass into the outtakes.

Small Girl Presenting Cherries

John Russell

Oil, 1780

John Russell was born in Surrey, England, in 1745.  The son of book and print seller, Russell became a respected artist and teacher known for his oil and pastel portraits.  He was influenced by Rosalba Carriera, a pastel portraitist known for her ability to add highlights and glowing details to her work. Russell was one of the court painters of King George III as well as an amateur astronomer, engraving a highly accurate lunar map that took twenty years to finish.  Russell was a devout Methodist, and also suffered from ill health for most of his life, including a bout of cholera that left him almost deaf and ultimately dying after contracting typhus.

I can't find much on the painting itself, but it is done in the Rococo style, which means it is highly ornate with heightened, joyful pastel colors. The girl's pose is asymmetrical and gracefully curved, her expression charming and cherublike.  Her face is reminiscent of the quadratura, the illusionist ceiling paintings typical of Rococo that often depicted cherubs gazing down from the heavens on the occupants of the room.

The Arnolfini Portrait

(The Arnolfini Wedding)

Jan van Eyck

Oil on wood (oak), 1434

Jan Van Eyck was one of the early artists of the Northern Renaissance, notable for his oil paintings with rich, realistic details.  He painted both secular and religious pieces, often on wood panels, and his work was highly influential on other artists.  As his own personal joke, he often signed his work with a pun on his name--"Als Ich Kan," which translates "As I (Eyck) Can." Other times he would use some version of "Jan Van Eyck was here."  He often embedded iconographic images in his art, tying together the spiritual and the material.  Van Eyck served as the court painter to several notable courts, including that of Phillip, Duke of Burgundy. 

The Arnolfini Portrait is one of Van Eyck's most famous works.  It is thought to depict Giovanni di Nicolao Arnolfini and his wife.  The glowing colors were achieved with multiple layers of thin translucent glazes, and really bring the opulence of Arnolfini's world to life.  This painting also exemplifies Van Eyck's wet-on-wet technique, a method of painting on wet paint to capture subtle changes in light and shade.  The level of detail in the painting is insane, exemplified in the round mirror in the back of the painting; it is such a small part of the painting, but it has a fully reversed reflection that has a slight distortion from the rounded mirror.  The mirror also is where Van Eyck hid his punny signature.

This was another one of the more complicated pieces to recreate.  The wide-brimmed black hat is a combination of two hats.  The picture was a group effort, with the red draperies on the bed achieved with the assistance of a helpful but complaining scarlet ghost and the belly held in place by a smaller sister. Duncan was originally cast as the small dog at the foot of the portrait, but due to creative differences he was replaced by a stuffed pup. 

Charles I in Three Positions (Triple Portrait of Charles I)

Anthony van Dyck

Oil on Canvas, 1635

Antoon Van Dyck was a Flemish artist from Antwerp.  Thanks to his portraits of the aristocracy, particularly of Charles I, he became the dominant influence on English portraits for the next century.  His talent was notable even in his youth, and at 18 years old he was admitted to the painters' guild of Antwerp as a free master.  He trained under Peter Paul Rubens, who was considered one of the most influential artists of the Flemish Baroque movement, which emphasized color, movement, grandeur, detail, and sensuality.  Though famous in his own country, Van Dyck became even more well known after moving to London.  Van Dyck's various portraits showcased the sharply pointed and trimmed goatees popular at the time which came to be known as Van Dykes, as well as the Van Dyke collar, which is the wide white collar trimmed with lace--the image of the cavalier.

Charles I in Three Positions (or The Triple Portrait of Charles I), showed the king from three viewpoints--full profile, straight on, and three-quarter.  It was so detailed that it was sent to the famous sculptor Bernini in Rome as a reference for a bust.  The painting depicts the king in three different outfits, but each image wears the blue ribbon of the Order of the Garter, an order of chivalry and most senior order of knighthood, a great honor.  History buffs will remember Charles I as the king who fought a civil war with his own Parliament because he refused cede the divine right to rule and to accept their demands for a constitutional monarchy; he was tried, convicted, and executed for high treason in 1649.  He was followed by everyone's favorite friendly Puritan, Oliver Cromwell, before the monarchy was restored to Charles' son, Charles II, in 1660.  

Naturally, the spiderman triple point was a must.

Portrait of a Young Woman

Raphael and Giulio Romano

Oil on panel (poplar), 1516-20

This piece was a collaboration by Raphael and one of his students, Giulio Romano.  It is widely believed that Raphael drew the sketch which was then painted by Romano, with Raphael adding the hand and sleeves.  Giulio Romano, also known as Giulio Pippi, was a painter and architect known for his contributions to Mannerism, a reaction to Renaissance art that exaggerates portion, balance, and ideal beauty resulting in pieces that are asymmetrical or elegant in an unnatural way.  Romano worked with Raphael until his death, and along with Perino del Vaga, Romano finished the Raphael Rooms inside the Vatican.  Romano also has the privilege of being the only Renaissance artist mentioned by Shakespeare, referenced in The Winter's Tale as "that rare Italian master, Julio Romano."  Romano lived a large part of his life in Mantua, where his contributions to architecture include the Palazzo Te, the Ducal Palace and cathedral, and the Church of San Benedetto.

Though Romano was noted for his Mannerist technique, this Portrait is very much in the high classical style typical of Raphael.  It is very similar in position to other paintings of young women done by Raphael, such as La Fornarina, La Muta, and Young Woman with Unicorn.  This is not uncommon as it was easier to change a face than an entire painting, and if you look at his portraits of young women you will find notable similarities in posture, dress, and anatomy.  The identity of this particular woman is unknown.

Lady Godiva

John Collier

Oil on canvas, 1897

Collier was a prolific artist who, though considered a Pre-Raphaelite in style, had a wide-ranging set of subjects that included portraiture of some of leading names of his day such as Rudyard Kipling, Charles Darwin, explorer Edward Inglefield, religious and state leaders, actors, educators, soldiers, royalty, and various members of his own family.  He was also known as an Orientalist, which means he depicted the Eastern world, particularly the Middle East, in some of his work.  He was not a fan of religion in general and saw it as one of the weaknesses of men.

His work often had a moody, melancholic feel, with a startling slash of color but an otherwise muted palette.  Like any good Pre-Raphaelite, his non-portrait work often focused on women in myths, such as Lilith, Cassandra, and the Delphi Oracle, or on historical figures like the Borgias and Lady Godiva.  Godiva was modeled after Mab Paul, an artist and actress who was painted several times by Collier.

Lady Godiva is a well documented and very real woman in the 11th century, but the story of her famous nude ride to protest her husband's excessive taxation of his tenants is apocryphal at best.  According to the legend, she pled with her husband to reduce the tax burden on his tenants, and he finally got tired of her bothering him and offered her a deal--if she'd ride naked through the town, he'd lower the taxes.  She sent a warning through the town, stripped down, and rode out.  Out of respect and obedience none of the townfolk looked on her except for one man named Thomas who peeked at her and was struck either blind or dead, depending on which version you hear.  This is the origin of the term "peeping Tom."

Collier's Lady is not the defiant heroine that you'd expect but seems modest and almost sad, especially juxtaposed with her proud, energetic mount.  She is very exposed, her famous hair all but hidden, and yet her nakedness is not flamboyant.  The sharp contrast between light and dark keeps your attention on Godiva, and it's hard to look past her to the intricate details of the background, horse, and barding.

This is the last picture we did due to the logistics.  Our previous pony, Bill, didn't make the trip from Alaska with us so we needed to make another one.  It also took some time to find a nude suit.  For some reason, my model didn't want to just freestyle in the front yard for the sake of art. She rocked it, though, and even got to throw a personal spin on the outtake.

And that brings us to the end.  I have no idea if we'll do it again, but if you find a picture that sparks joy (or gives you a "I triple dog dare you" vibe) send it my way, and I'll check my costume box.

It's Da Bomb

 Twice a year, White Sands Missile Range opens up one of the most impactful sites in 20th Century history, and twice a year thousands of vets, history buffs, homeschoolers and gawking tourists drive hours into the middle of Nowhere, New Mexico, to walk a desolate stretch of scrub desert and remember.

At 5:29 AM on July 16, 1945, the first atomic bomb was tested, ushering the world irrevocably into the atomic age.  Three years of work under the Manhattan Project culminated in a blast that blinded observers 10 miles away and sent a shockwave thundering 160 miles from the epicenter.  The explosion vaporized the 100-foot-tall steel tower that had held the bomb, creating a crater roughly 240 feet across, 4 feet deep, and glazed over with a layer of green glass made by the heat and impact of the bomb fusing the sand together.  Until the bombs had been dropped on Japan, the military simply claimed that an ammo bunker had exploded.

"Important" doesn't begin to cover it.

I'd first heard of Trinity Site when I started my obsessive research about things to do in El Paso.  I'm not much of a WW2 buff, but I am married to a man who is.  When I got an alert that the site would be open the first weekend in April, I threw the family and some sunscreen in the van and headed out.

It's a roughly 2 and a half hour drive up and around the northern reaches of White Sands Missile Range, which is still an active testing range for other ammunitions.  The road winds through some of the most godforsaken parts of New Mexico.  Despite the emptiness of the area, traffic picked up the closer we got to the site.  At the turnoff to the northern gate we unexpectedly ran into protestors. Apparently the local towns were never designated as a risk zone and compensated for the exposures that many of them believe led to increased rates of cancer in their community. It was a surprising and sobering introduction.

After 45 minutes waiting to get through the gate and a quick check of the van, we were allowed to proceed on strict orders not to stop and not to take any pictures except at Trinity Site itself.  We crossed our hearts and then started on the last segment of our journey, twenty minutes of flat asphalt twisting deeper into the nothing of the desert.  We kept an eye out for the Arabian Oryx that infest the entire range but didn't see any.

Finally we pulled up to Trinity Site, which is carefully fenced and policed with multiple guard towers.  A sea of RVs and smaller vehicles filled the parking lot.  People milled around taking pictures.  Burgers were being grilled and sold 100 feet from Jumbo, a massive 25 foot, 214 ton steel jug originally intended to hold the bomb during the test. A small trailer sold commemorative shirts as a fundraiser for the military unit on the other side of the entrance.  The far corner of the parking lot was walled off by a forest of port-a-potties.

The actual detonation site is a short walk down a dirt road bordered by tall chain-link fence.  Scattered piles of poop offer proof that the unseen Oryx do exist.  A small booth offered information, reassurance about the fairly safe radioactivity of the area, and a chance to use a Geiger counter and a vial of depleted uranium. A sign warned that removing any Trinitite, the glass made by the explosion, was a federal crime. If you pay attention, you can see that you're walking in the crater, several feet lower than the rest of the area.  All that remains of the tower that held the bomb is a single footing, a waist-high monolith of rusted steel and concrete, next to a squat and sober obelisk that marks the exact impact point.  The fence is lined with photographs and newspaper clippings documenting the process of building the bomb, the site, the aftermath.  Bits of grey-green Trinitite glint underfoot.

What I found most jarring was the replica of Fatman, the bomb dropped on Nagasaki.  It's barely 10 feet long, a chubby steel blimp that seems too impossibly small to have wrought such mind-numbing, war-ending destruction.  It is so hard to believe that something so unimpressive killed 40,000 people outright, searing shadows into concrete, with up to 80,000 more dying over the following weeks and years. Horrifying doesn't begin to cover it.  And this was so insignificantly small compared to the nuclear bombs in our arsenals today.  Sometimes perspective is chilling, not illuminating.

Rick and I took the time to discuss these things with the girls, trying to impress upon them the significance of where they were, the consequences that directly shaped the world they live in.  They were somber, which I felt was appropriate for the place. It frustrated me to see others laughing and taking selfies with some of the displays.  I know it's hardly Auschwitz; no one died at Trinity.  Yet, it still feels like there should be some sanctity, some respect for those who died as a direct result of the weapon developed there, some awe of the ungodly power that was unleashed like the plagues from Pandora's box.

Oh well.

We had the opportunity to take a bus out to MacDonald Ranch, where the plutonium core of the bomb was assembled and where the scientists worked prior to the test.  However, between the heat and the crowd we decided to pass.  We drove the long, twisting road back off post, past the protestors and on to Highway 380.  Instead of driving home the way we'd come, we took a right and made a giant loop.

We wound up driving through the Valley of Fires.  About 5,000 years ago a local peak erupted and left a lava flow that is up to 160 feet thick and covers 125 square miles.  The highway runs right through it; ridges and folds of black rock curl all along the road.  It's frankly amazing.  If I have a spare weekend before the summer starts scorching, I might make another trip back up there to do the Malpais Nature Trail.  As it was, with two hours and one more stop to go, we took a quick pic, geeked out, and drove on.

Since Rick had never been to White Sands National Park, we stopped in to show him the dunes.  For the curious, it sits in the middle of White Sands Missile Range off Highway 70.  I recommend following the signs and not confusing the two--your welcomes at each will be very different.  Even though this was my and the girls' third or fourth visit, it was still fascinating.  The gypsum sand is cool to the touch, and very fine.  The girls chucked their shoes and barreled barefoot up the dunes, rolling down and promptly covering themselves in clinging sand.  Rick took a more measured approach but took a little bushwhack over a couple dunes and met us back at the van.  I took the opportunity to snap a couple of Bren's senior photos and then herded everyone back into the van for the trip home.

It was an exhausting day, but a good one.  One of the silver linings to being uprooted and replanted every couple of years is the opportunity see so many things that many people don't and share them with my family.  I'm grateful for that.

If you are interested in learning more about Trinity Site, here's a good place to start. Trinity Site - White Sands National Park (U.S. National Park Service) (nps.gov)