This, Frank Waters' last book, is a moving and powerful reminiscence of the Taos he knew and loved, and of the friends who peopled it, like Mabel Luhan, Tony Lujan, and Dorothy Brett.
Leon Shulman Gaspard (1882-1964) was an interesting addition to the New Mexico arts scene when he arrived in 1918. A Russian-born, French-trained veteran of the airborne campaigns of the Great War, he arrived physically diminished from a horrific plane crash that had put him in a French hospital for two years. Seeking a more hospitable climate, he arrived in Taos to find a vibrant arts community and an exotic blend of native, western, and Hispanic cultures. Having traveled widely throughout Russia, China, Mongolia, Tibet, Morocco, and Northern Africa as a fur trader, painter, army pilot and spy, Gaspard had a love of exotic cultures and a desire to document them artistically. Taos allowed him just such an opportunity, and he set out to paint the Native Americans in much the same way he had painted the native peoples of North Africa and Asia while in Paris. A pariah of sorts when he first arrived, Gaspard was saved socially when Herbert Dunton, one of the founding members of the Taos Society of Artists, took a liking to him and began to bring him around to meet his colleagues. A kindly and gregarious man, Gaspard eventually became accepted and well liked, and one of the most important of the many distinguished artists that made Taos their home in the early part of the twentieth century.
Artists and filmmakers in the early twentieth century reshaped our vision of the American West. In particular, the Taos Society of Artists and the California-based artist Maynard Dixon departed from the legendary depiction of the “Wild West” and fostered new images, or brands, for western art. This volume, illustrated with more than 150 images, examines select paintings and films to demonstrate how these artists both enhanced and contradicted earlier representations of the West. Prior to this period, American art tended to portray the West as a wild frontier with untamed lands and peoples. Renowned artists such as Henry Farny and Frederic Remington set their work in the past, invoking an environment immersed in conflict and violence. This trademark perspective began to change, however, when artists enamored with the Southwest stamped a new imprint on their paintings. The contributors to this volume illuminate the complex ways in which early-twentieth-century artists, as well as filmmakers, evoked a southwestern environment not just suspended in time but also permanent rather than transient. Yet, as the authors also reveal, these artists were not entirely immune to the siren call of the vanishing West, and their portrayal of peaceful yet “exotic” Native Americans was an expansion rather than a dismissal of earlier tropes. Both brands cast a romantic spell on the West, and both have been seared into public consciousness. Branding the American West is published in association with the Brigham Young University Museum of Art, Provo, Utah, and the Stark Museum of Art, Orange, Texas.
A lively introduction to the breadth of Waters's work, Deep Waters touches on themes of ecology, philosophy, pre-Columbiana, Eastern philosophy, Egyptology, American Indians, and a host of other subjects reflecting the great cultural shifts occurring at the time.
Eric Sloane's evocative oils of America's landscape and material culture shimmer with immense historical and nostalgic appeal. This original hardcover collection gathers nearly a hundred of his finest paintings, with subjects ranging from New England to the American Southwest.