In his how-to book Composition of Outdoor Painting (1941), Payne described his lofty aim to share the “spiritual flow which encircles animate and inanimate nature—the rhythm of life and the universe” in his paintings. Mesa Redonia (the title appears to be a misnomer for an unidentified landmark) is a prime example of his use of brushstroke, color, and lighting to create atmospheric and mood effects and evoke a sense of awe and wonder.
Edgar Alwin Payne first visited and painted Canyon de Chelly—a cluster of several canyons, including Canyon del Muerto, in northeastern Arizona—in 1917.1 Commissioned by the Santa Fe Railroad to record the journey from Albuquerque to California, Payne spent four months exploring the canyons, and the artwork he produced cemented his status as one of the period’s leading Western American artists. In Canyon de Muerto, Payne is largely concerned with capturing the scale of the canyon’s 1,000-foot-tall walls. The painting is composed so that the sandstone rock formations extend beyond the boundaries of the frame, taking up over two-thirds of the canvas and rationing the view of the sky. Two strategically positioned horseback riders provide the viewer a reference point for apprehending such dramatic proportions.
Sheldon Parsons’ career spanned the first half of the 20th century, when one avant-garde art movement after another rose to defy convention and challenge the foundations of Western American art. As an artist and curator, Parsons bridged the professional divide between “realism” and “modernism”—he both promoted traditional standards while being open to new approaches. His more “realistic” side is at play in Nambe Valley, Summer. The painting adheres to the major conventions of Western art: it is composed according to a clearly defined foreground, middle ground, and background; it takes a panoramic perspective on the landscape; its color palette is tightly controlled; and its brushwork delivers a high degree of finish.
Sheldon Parsons, a leader within the growing Santa Fe artist colony at the beginning of the 20th century, took both sides in the era’s hotly contested artistic debate between “realism” and “modernism” in Western American art, promoting traditional standards without dismissing unconventional ideas. As his career matured, however, Parsons became increasingly experimental in his practice, and bold use of complementary colors became a trademark of the artist’s in his last decade (Parsons died in 1943). In Casa on the Hill, a mix of warm yellow and orange autumn hues stand out against a loosely brushed bright blue sky. Note how the purple shadows cast by towering trees in a latticework pattern on a green-glazed ground make the painting a dance of color.
Records indicate Virginia Nye’s art career essentially started and ended with the New Deal. One of her major contributions was hand-coloring printed plates for the Portfolio of Spanish Colonial Design in New Mexico. In The Engineer, we see Nye’s keen eye for illustration, which is especially smart in its use of primary colors to enhance the image of a playful preschooler.
Dead Cottonwood is an unusual painting for Helmuth Naumer, Sr. First, it is in oil, while Naumer mostly worked in and was best known for his pastels. Second, it is relatively drab. One reason Naumer’s pastels were (and are) so popular was that he created them on black paper, which made his vibrant color palette really “pop.” There are inklings of Naumer’s proclivity for complementary colors in Dead Cottonwood: the blues of the mesas in the background complement the yellow hues of the grass in the foreground, and he defines the grain of the cottonwood’s trunk by weaving dabs of terracotta through twists of gray. Yet it is different enough from most of his work to raise questions about what he was thinking. Naumer always said that the Southwest felt instinctively like home, but he was born in Germany. Replying to a question by a journalist in 1938, he expressed concern over Adolf Hitler’s rise to power and predicted the outbreak of a large-scale war.1 Given the time period this work was made—between 1939 and 1943—and the somber subject, title, and colors, perhaps events in Europe weighed heavily on Naumer’s mind when he painted this piece.
Untitled (Wagon and Campfire) is an ambitious and tightly composed painting involving twenty-two figures, four covered wagons, and four horses. The painting has an architectural quality, with the elements organized in layers: a sequence of mesas establishes the background, a row of wagons comes next, and then a line of people standing, before the layers conclude with a seated group huddled together in the foreground. The saddle purposefully tucked in the lower right corner enhances this “paper peep show” effect. Within each layered grouping, figures are carefully considered in terms of individual posture and relationship to each other. The warm glow emanating from the campfire directs the viewer’s attention, illuminating details such as the glint of the coffee pot, a man’s pensive expression, the spokes of a wagon wheel, a horse’s ear hairs, the tie of a tsiiyééł (hair bun), and the turquoise earrings that dot the scene. Details outside the reach of this central light source are present but relaxed, as the harmonious earth-toned color palette unifies the composition.
Scenes of Diné (Navajo) people traveling by wagon and horseback were a favorite subject of Lloyd Moylan’s. See also in Gallup’s New Deal Art Collection: Prelude to Dust, Appointment in Gallup, and Journey Through Longhouse Valley.
In general terms, New Deal art programs sought to create a visual record of American life and American spirit. Artists across the country were deployed to document their communities, and Storage Barn is part of that rich tapestry of “the American scene.” Here, Lloyd Moylan memorializes a specific place at a specific moment in time. The artist must have known this particular subject well to have rendered it with such precision. Notice the six-paneled windows, the water trough slightly askew, and the individual blades of grass—even the weed poking up on the left edge of the building. Something outside the picture to the left casts an elongated, funnel-shaped shadow up the side of the barn and across its roof. Moylan also pays attention to each slope, plane, and crevice of the uniquely formed mountain towering over the barn.
Lloyd Moylan was known by his contemporaries as a “specialist in Navajo subject matter.”1 It is believed that, in the spirit of the Western American self-styled artist-explorers who preceded him, he spent a significant amount of time visiting the Navajo Nation. Indeed, his paintings, presumably of people he met and events he attended, communicate first-hand experience. In Squaw Dance,2 Moylan takes a documentary approach both in the way he positions the viewer as an onlooker removed from the action and also in details such as the curls of cigarette smoke. (The lived experience of this piece is highlighted by comparison to Moylan’s Dance at San Felipe.)
In keeping with the early 20th-century practice of Native American portraiture in Western American art, Slim Woman and Chewing Tobacco Begay is not so much a portrait of two individuals as it is a stereotyped portrait of a culture. The painting reads like a fashion magazine spread, with the sitters relegated to the role of models, posed so that their jewelry is the center of attention (notice how their hands are unnaturally positioned to show off their rings). In this way, the painting reflects and promotes a superficial understanding of Diné (Navajo) culture.