“To shake up the pace and scale of city life, I was most looking forward to driving in an open landscape. I felt that this was a simple enough expectation that would allow for a lot of surprise and spontaneity within. I followed the advice of friends who’ve reached out with tips and thanks to their help there was never a time where I didn’t feel a sense of adventure. I was surprised by the diversity of landscape and how quickly it would change from desert to dense pine forest. In only a matter of a half hour drive, it would change from 60 degrees Fahrenheit to half of that with snow on the ground. I found it to be amazing that a single state could be so diverse.

I couldn’t help but take notice of the intensity of the sun and the shadows it casted during the whole trip. How it shaped the landscape at different parts of the day was unlike anything I’ve experienced before. I’d hike up a trail in the morning and the valley would look completely different as when I hiked down in the afternoon because of the shadows it casted on the rocks and foliage. It felt natural to follow the rhythm of the sun.

During the long drives, which I mostly made towards the end of the day, I was really able to note the subtle changes in color as the sun sets. The artwork depicts the way the sun created a rainbow like halo effect on the mountain ranges in the distance. As the sky’s hues changed from blue to pink to orange, the mountains became black in silhouette. I envisioned this visual as a woodcut and, employing the process that I’ve recently been exploring, I cut up the design to add a layer of abstraction to the piece.”

Monday, February 7, 2022

This is the first time i’ve travelled via plane since before the pandemic. I suppose it has been about 2 years. Getting out of NYC felt abrasive, but not unexpected. I’ve forgotten so much - even to check which terminal my departing flight is. I find that in these moments I am hyper tuned to way finding and signage and it all seems to be competing for your attention - yet the most important things seem to be hardest to find.

What is interesting to me lately, and seems obvious especially coming from a graphic design background, is how nearly everything can be reduced to iconography. There was an amazing tile mural at LGA the consisted of large clouds with NYC iconography placed randomly throughout.. an everything bagel, slice of pizza, food truck, statue of liberty. Even a nod to Keith Haring. When I reduce things down to the fact that what I perceive, mostly, is iconography based, it makes what I do as a visual artist easier to understand. I could simply be contributing to the iconographic landscape of the times in which I live in. Creating images that can be understood through the connections that people make from other streams of pop culture, from their own surroundings, or from personal experience.

I arrive in Albuquerque. It is funny that nobody claps for plane landings anymore. The shuttle bus had amazing patterned seat covers. I arrive at my first BnB and had a great, long conversation with the host about their life here. He is actually a woodworker and has an amazing shop space out of the garage. Pretty dreamy. I love how the color of the homes here blend in with the color of the landscape. I quickly leave to chase the sunset but our conversation went a little long and I was only able to do a short hike - enough to stretch my legs. Later that night I go into town. I visit a vintage store called the Pink Rhino and as I leave I hear a trumpet player on the corner. He was dressed in all pink, playing a pink trumpet, in front of a store which had a neon of a pink frosted donut.

Tuesday, February 8, 2022

Woke at sunrise made tea and walked around the property in Placitas. The neighbor who had a horse was already up and working. I headed towards Jemez Springs and within an hours drive the landscape changed from flat expanses to sharp cliffs to dense pine forest, driving through some incredible tunnels to boot. When I reached the hot spring, I was the only one there and would be for the next two hours. The spring overlooked a valley - an unbelievable landscape. The fact that I can be in water, in nature, in 25 degree F weather, was quite surreal.

At the nearby general store were two older gentlemen sitting on a wooden bench drinking Coca-Colas. The old fashioned kind in the glass bottle. It was an incredible scene - straight out of a movie. I learned that one was an artist, and the other a teacher at a nearby Zen center. They were funny, inquisitive, and as they asked me more questions we exchanged all kinds of wisdom about art and the pace of life. The artist gave me his card and said he had a show currently in Santa Fe. I was blown away by his painting on the card. It was of a cactus but he replaced one of the stems with an airplane. It was incredibly simple, funny, and unexpected. He told me to keep in touch.

I headed towards Taos smitten by the interaction. The landscape did about the reverse of the morning: Dense pine forest to sharp rocky cliffs to large, flat, expansive vistas. I drove through Los Alamos (famous for the inception fo the atomic bomb) which was very strange. You give your ID to a military officer, and he says no right turns, no pictures, no videos. The town itself had no commerce, no restaurants, and no gas stations. Just parking garages with LED signs of their current vacancy. It was a whole town dedicated to a laboratory.

I drive with the sun setting behind me which caused every single object and rock formation to cast dramatic, black shadows in front of me. The landscape starts to look like a Ken Price drawing and I can make the New Mexico connection of his aesthetic approach. It’s interesting that in the city I never pay much mind to where the sun is. But here, it’s impossible to ignore. It makes its presence known. I arrive in Taos at sunset.

Wednesday, February 9, 2022
Today the pace was a bit less adventurous and more slow and contemplative, possibly because I covered less ground. I woke up again at sunrise, without alarm. It feels good to rise with the sun, especially in this casita where I can quite literally watch the sun rise over a mountain range from my bed. I opted out of skiing because of the short amount of time I had in Taos and instead wanted to experience the local arts and architecture. Took a long walk along the Rio Grande. Then went to visit the earth ships and the town.

The docent asked me if there was anyone else with me and I said "no, traveling alone". He said “Thats the best way. You can fart whenever you want to.” The earth ships are fully off the grid sustainable structures. They are heated and cooled by harnessing the suns warmth and the cool soil. The rain provides the drinking water, which is recycled 4 times throughout the house for shower, toilet, and feeding the plants before leaving the structure to the outside garden. The food is provided from the gardens. This got me thinking about the resources I use in my own life, and how I can live more sustainably.

The Taos Pueblas were unfortunately closed to the public. I visited the famous church, just south of Taos. Visiting churches has been a recent interest of mine - not in a religious way, but in the way they combine storytelling and iconography into the architecture. Even though I had grown up going to church, it wasn’t until I visited Antwerp that I realized how much inspiration I could get from the aesthetics of cathedrals - specifically the way the paintings are framed to isolate scenes amongst a larger narrative. It was a funny thought to me that the painters were essentially like illustrators today and the client was god who had an endless budget.

Thursday, February 10, 2022
This morning I left Taos to head south to White Sands. I met some friends of a friend for coffee at their beautiful home built by a masonry artist in the 80s. We talked about our respective times in Philadelphia, their experience uprooting city life to live in rural New Mexico, its tough arts economy, and about their longterm goals to create a residency.

Driving South from their home, I passed by a statue of liberty in the front yard of a home and wondered how far I’ve actually gotten from NYC. In landscape, NM and NY are ‘more than a stones throw away’ to quote my server from breakfast. However, the more people I talk to the more I see the connection of the East and West. The docent at the Taos Art Museum was from Philly, along with the only two other people visiting the museum. The Zen teacher was from NYC, Georgia O’Keeffe (whose paintings I’d finally gotten to see in person) spent her early career in NYC.

From the O’Keeffe museum I drove the long stretch South to White Sands with yet another beautiful sunset to my right arriving at White Sands area after dark. One of the good things about arriving somewhere at night is that in the morning you wake to a completely unfamiliar environment.

Friday, February 11, 2022

Hiked 8 miles out and back in a large valley in the Lincoln National Forest. This took up most of the day until mid afternoon but was totally worth it. I ascended in the morning, and descended in the afternoon when the sun was directly overhead. This made the trek down look completely different. The rock formations blended in with each other and became less defined as the day went on.

The hike was extremely quiet, and I was the only one on the trail. I took some time along the way to sketch compositions. I noticed how loud the sound of pencil on paper was when i sat for a sketch. This made me think about how funny it would be to make long form recordings of the sounds of being an artist. i.e. in the print studio, painting, writing proposals, commuting. The further I hiked and the longer I thought about it, the better the idea sounded actually. It could be a very intimate alternative to visually experiencing different artists’ work and life.

I spent the later part of the day at White Sands National Park - staying for sunset. Took a sled down some dunes and just sat quietly embracing this surreal environment. Later that night, I was invited for dinner by a Philadelphia friends’ mother at her cabin in Cloudcroft. We talked about how her son started Space 1026 in Philadelphia (the art space I was a part of) and it further proved how small of a world it really is.

Saturday, February 12, 2022

For my last day I was invited to go ‘rock crawling’ in the foot hills of La Luz. I had no idea what to expect but it seemed like a great way to send off the trip. When I arrived, people started showing up with their ‘rigs’ from all over New Mexico and even one person from Texas.

The goal is to traverse a sometimes very rough rocky path and to climb difficult rock formations. These climbs are called ‘lines’ and I quickly learned how much skill and strategy it takes to climb certain obstacles. Each climb took tons of finesse and time. Everyone was so supportive of each driver’s turn at the challenge. It was a very welcoming community. I felt lucky to be there, as I didn’t even know this subculture existed, and probably never would have had the chance to experience it otherwise. Our two subcultures were almost polar opposites but I could see that they were so proud to show me their passion. In turn, I was grateful to experience a hobby so different than my own.

I couldn’t have been happier with this road trip through New Mexico. At times, the connection I felt with the landscape provided me with an overwhelming sense of vitality and creative energy. I forgot how important it was to get out of the studio to shake up my routine, seek out new inspiration and just travel. My sincerest thanks to The Jaunt for this opportunity.