We're Back!

As you might have guessed, I extended my stay in MS; my cousin was coming in from Nashville for the family reunion, and I could hardly leave without seeing her and the rest of the family. So I stayed another few days. My uncle is much improved and I am so relieved. I had a great time with my family.



The remodel continues to go on and on, so...I have really enjoyed using my new stove. The weather has been perfect for baking. M-m-mmmm!I will really be in Hermon's good graces when I bake his favorite "pecan chewies." I may tackle that tomorrow.


On with the story.. In rereading, I see that "the way west" never arrived and I left out a lot of stuff.

While we were in Raymond, Hermon got a brainstorm! How to "mass produce" his paintings of Indian portraits on leather. He ventured out to do just that, when an interested party wanted to order mutiples, that is, "as many as you can paint!" Hermon's system involved a huge amount of physical work for us both. He stretched and dyed the leather. I did the handwork: consisting of adding feathers and embellishments on each piece. There was Baby Robert in his playpen and Jim sitting at his grandad's desk, writing and drawing while we worked. The studio was always in disarray when I got there, and there seemed to be no solution, so we worked around everything. And we worked really hard.



Hermon asked the buyer to venture out with him and buy 10 or 20 of the same image until he could complete the process for the rest of the portraits. That wasn't too much to ask really, because we had put everything on the line in order to start up. The guy began picking apart the work we sent him, then decided to opt out. Hermon had spent nearly a year getting the kinks worked out! They looked really good. Some were painted on rounds with rope border and feathers with turquoise. Others were made into hangings using dowels and leather string we had made and feather and turquoise. But there we were, preparing the images en masse, with no outlet.



We packed up and went to a three week show in Birmingham, AL, where we sold quite a few of them. They were a big hit. Any other shows we did, they were a shoe-in. A good seller. We had stacks of them in varying stages of completion. Sometimes, I even got to paint the jewelry and the light in the eyes. I learned a lot. But my fingers hurt from working with the leather string, tying knots, etc. and with the rough materials in general. But we were excited about them. The images were of significant Indians that had been photographed by Edward Curtis and were recognizeable: Chief Joseph, Nez Perce; Quannah Parker; Red Cloud, and one handsome Pawnee named Particular Time of Day. They were all striking figures on canvas. When we did the Christmas show in Birmingham, an older woman (probably younger than I am now), purchased that painting for her daughter. Then she decided she wanted one for herself. She wanted to know his name. When Hermon told her "Particular Time of Day," she said, "Any time, any where!" We thought that was so cute. And from the heart. (He is my favorite one, too.)



Those portraits on leather paid our way out west, and we did very well with them. Hermon also painted one of John Wayne with a bandana on the rope frame. Our little guy, Robert, thought his name was John Lane. He always called him that. Then when he got a little older, we were watching a John Wayne movie, when Robert said,"you know, Dad, John Wayne looks a lot like John Lane!" We died laughing!



When we left New Orleans for the last time to head out west to Jackson Hole, Wyoming, the center for western art, those paintings were a Godsend! As we camped at night in our trailer, Hermon did some painting on the leather Indians. When we got to Dodge City, Kansas, he showed them to the campground owner. They bought a couple which paid for our stay there and them some. Another camper saw them and wanted one, too. So Hermon completed one at the picnic table, while she watched. She was so thrilled. So that was good and we came out ahead.



As we were about to head up the first mountain of the Rockies in Colorado, about half way up, our truck died. Hermon hitched a ride down the mountain several miles, while I stayed in the truck with the boys, and no way to get out. We were right up against the solid rock wall to the right of the road, pulled over as far as we could get. No way could I have opened the other door next to the road way. So we sat there for 2 hours, it seemed. It was touch on the little guys being confined, but they did very well. I was getting clostraphobia, however! Finally, Hermon returned with a wrecker. The guy had to take the front wheels off the truck, in order to get it far enough on the wrecker so it could tow the trailer behind without dragging. (Later, we discovered that the frame of the trailor had gotten bent.) We all piled into the wrecker and away we went. But it was so scary, turning that big rig around on the narrow highway with sheer cliff on one side. I know I held my breath, as we inched our way around. It nearly takes my breath today, to think of it!



The little town of La Veta was at the foot of the mountains. Fortunately, there was a truck stop, with a mechanic shop too. So, we had a place to park and to eat. They didn't charge us to park. The radiator needed to be rodded out, and the part they needed would take a couple of days to arrive. That was the windiest place I have ever been; dust was blowing everywhere. We tasted grit every time we went outside. The door practically blew off its hinges each time the boys went in or out. Hermon painted; the owners liked the Indians and bought enough to pay for the work done on the truck and paid us a couple of hundred, to boot. (That truck stop ordered artwork from us years later, when we sold our ltd. edition prints! We were ever grateful for good folks.) We sat at lunch and watched the antelope running and jumping. We were so excited to see the wildlife, for the very first time. The boys were real cowboys. We were on a great adventure heading west, just like the pioneers!