Chihuahuan Desert Views travel beyond imagination.
Studies have shown that most people look at artwork in a museum for somewhere between 15-30 seconds.
I invite you into my world. To wander. Visually explore every curve, texture, and color. Stare. Listen. Engage in the dialogue. And mostly, to surrender.
Watercolors of sunrise reflect on the mountains like a set of Prismacolor pastels. Drifting chalk lines in red, yellow, brown, and white.
Mosaics of rock, shards growing out of the ground like broken glass. Leaded windows next to lattice work. A gravel lined arroyo.
Lanky arms of Ocotillo hug mesquite and creosote close, only the clothing of candelilla in between.
Velvet slopes and desert waves. What’s horizontal becomes angular and the jagged edges of mountains appear.
Out of stillness comes the steady flapping of wings. The sound of footsteps, rock crunching underneath. The earth hums.
Low clouds this morning, drifting from above to meet the fog. A ribbon of sunlight between. The musk of greasewood at dawn. Just let me breathe the air.
In the silence I hear music. Elk bugling, coyotes yipping, barking, birds chirping.
And then there is light. Limestone roads glowing under a full moon. Blinding white in the summer sun. The dunes and pavement of the desert baking.
As my horse moves side to side riding this desert, I close my eyes. Hips shifting in syncopated rhythm with his. I reach out, caressing the wind and slide into the depths of my mind.
Stay a while.