Too Much Time Passes By Between

I need to get back to work. I have taken too much time between entries. Hermon has been working on his Song of Hiawatha series for the book he is putting together with his illustrations. It is really phenomenal, so far. He is feeling more like himself once again, thank heavens. He has been really busy reorganizing his studio and gleaning. It has been a long, cold winter, making it very difficult to be motivated to work very much. Thank goodness for spring!

Life-long Project

It is time to share with the world what Hermon has been working on for at least 30 years. While we lived and worked in Raymond, MS, Hermon got a commission for a painting of Hiawatha carrying Minnehaha across the river. The gentleman who wanted it, sent Hermon a photo of a statue of the subject. Hermon proceded to do research on the subject and in doing so, decided to read the epic poem, The Song of Hiawatha, by Longfellow. He thought there might be some word pictures within the poem. By the time he finished reading it, he had easily found over two hundred word pictures, which inspired the majority of his paintings over the years of his career. He is finally beginning a culmination of the images in book form. It is intended to be a coffee table edition of a limited number. He has at least thirty pages completed and recorded. Of course, I want him to hurry up and do it. It is going to be gorgeous and very moving. One of the first paintings that I remember being put to the words of Longfellow, is called "The Spirit's Hand." I will relate this to you, just to give you a sample of what the book will include.
The Song of Hiawatha by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Prelude
"Ye whose hearts are fresh and simple, Who have faith in God and Nature,
Who believe that in all ages Every human heart is human,
That in even savage bosoms there are longings, yearnings, strivings
For the good they comprehend not, That the feeble hands and helpless,
Groping blindly in the darkness, Touch God's right hand in that darkness,
And are lifted up and strengthened; Listen to this simple story,
To this song of Hiawatha!"

Climbing the Mountains

We packed up our paintings, the kids, and hooked up the trailer, as soon as the truck was fixed. We were excited to be on our way up the mountain and through Colorado and onto Jackson Hole.



As we crested the top of that first mountain, just past where our truck had stopped 3 days before, I looked across a gorge, and there standing near the edge, bugling, was a huge elk! I can see him so clearly in my mind's eye. A perfect picture to behold. I told Hermon that it was a good omen, and that it meant good things ahead. It was an exhilarating feeling, especially after the past few days. The truck was running great and took the mountain with no trouble at all.



Having never been to Colorado before, we had no idea what to expect to see on our way. The countryside was gorgeous and completely different than anything we had imagined. The aspen trees and the meadows showed their summer colors in rich hues of silver green, whites, brights, yellows, purples, and orange. The landscape gradually changed, as we travelled;it painted a thousand scenes before us, as we drank it all in. We rode and rode and sang and laughed and sang some more. Every now and then, we had to make a pitstop and let Rob "water" the flowers along the way. There were no conveniences for miles and miles. Yet, no one seemed to mind. We were loving our adventure.



One of our very favorite places on the way, was Logan, Utah. We camped at a very nice campground that looked out on the mountains on the horizon and on the horses across the fence next to the campground. Very picturesque. The air was quite cool in the mornings, as we began each day. What a change from the heat of the south! So refreshing! And the feeling of freedom was overwhelming. We felt like birds out of a cage.



When we finally arrived in Jackson Hole, Hermon went to a shop called "The Coyote Den" to show the owner his work. She bought a couple of the leather Indians immediately. Hermon returned to the campground and continued to work on his large commissioned piece for Elayne's Gallery in Minneapolis, MN. When that one was completed, Elayne sent us the rest of the money for the painting. She and Hermon had made an agreement before we left Mississsippi. That worked out very well. Then, we had a chance to, actually, be tourists and check out the town and all the galleries. It was a wonderful experience.

We found out that things did not really begin to happen in Jackson until the Fourth of July. That gave Hermon plenty of time to work, because we had a couple of weeks before the big event. And that is what he did. He also did some checking around to find a place to paint and a cheaper campground. We had plans to settle in for a while. What a fun place to be! That was a summer filled with lots of adventures and outings. One that we will always hold dear.

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!

The Artist's Statement

Growing up in a small town of 2,000, I spent most of my time in the woods or fields, playing, and, as I grew older, working. I owned several horses and loved the out-of-doors. I enjoyed drawing and looking at all forms of art. However, I never actually went into a gallery until after I had become a professional artist. The artwork that I got to see was in the public library. During my first year in college, 1963, my art professor took us to a seminar on painting with acrylics. I loved the speed. However, I still liked the soft clouds and skin that could be achieved with oils.

I majored in Advertising Design, because I was not aware that one could actually make a living as a "fine artist." I worked for several years as a commercial artist doing newspaper and catalog layouts. After serving in the Army, my wife and I moved to North Carolina, where I did line drawings for the "Yellow Pages." I thought I had found Heaven, when I went to work painting architectural renderings. I was getting paid to paint. When that company went bankrupt, it was devastating. After that, I went to work for two furniture photography companies, always doing illustrations, whenever I could.

In 1976, I actually got angry with myself, because I was not living up to my potential. At that point, I made a decision to paint in a more serious way, and to truly challenge myself, more than I had done before. Not very long after that, a group called "Artist Touring Association" asked me to join them. An opportunity arose to become a full-time, professional artist. To my surprise, my wife agreed, and we began a totally new life. It was hard. It was with this group, however, that my real education began. We toured with them for two years. We were very fortunate to be able to work with some wonderful artists, who helped me develop.

Several artists have inspired me. Because of his availability to a young boy, and for the excitement he transmitted in his work, N.C. Wyeth was probably my first major influence. Thomas Moran, Albert Bierstadt, Lawrence Alma-Tadema, Alphonse Maria Mucha, Maxfield Parrish, Frank Frazetta, Tom Lovell, and others have all had an influence on my artwork. Until I was in college, there was no real art instruction available. Realism was nowhere to be found. Therefore, almost all that I have learned has been self-taught.

If I were forced to put a name to the way I paint, it would have to be "romantic realism." However, if one studies my work, it would be discovered that a large portion of what I do is impressionistic, with, somewhat, realistic areas. I have been told by several of my collectors, that my work is easily recognizable. They may, at first, see similarities to Thomas Moran, or another of my influences; but after having seen several of my pieces, they tell me that my style is unmistakable.

My artwork never stops evolving, for the better, I hope. I do believe that it has been consistent and I have a style that is recognizably mine. Although I cannot help but be influenced by what I have encountered, when I paint, I just try to do the best that I can. This is where imagination and originality are really important. I do not want to paint like Frank Frazetta or Maxfield Parrish, or Vincent Van Gogh, or like anyone else. One Van Gogh is enough. My style is undeniably my own.

Going Home

It seems just as I get going on an interesting project, one thing after another seems to crop up and derail my momentum. But, I guess that is life. At least, it has been my life. Our house is in major turmoil, with renovations. On Friday, Hermon decided that we needed to make a place in my kitchen for a new stove, long overdue! So he and our handyman, Dave, turned my kitchen upside down and inside out, removing cook top, wall oven, then ancient water heater. (Hot water on Demand water heaters are wonderful, by the way.) So now I can use that space for a pantry. My stove comes in the morning sometime. What a mess! Not that the rest of my house is completed either, but the time was right to do this. So what am I going to do to help this ongoing renovation? I am going to visit my family in Mississippi! My Uncle Dave, at 84, has been ill for a while now, and I am worried about him. I need to see him and to be with the rest of the family. We have all been very close and have spent lots of time together, all my life. A visit with family is good for the soul. It is refreshing to my spirit to see them and to enjoy the unconditional love they have always shown me. I am excited to go.

I hope something looks better when I return, or I may just turn around and go back!!
So now for my little blog, I will fill in as I can over the next few days before I leave on September 9th. I will return on the 19th. Then I will be able to concentrate on the project at hand. Please bear with me. Thank you for those of you who are following this. Best wishes, Sheila Adams

A Time Line of Events-Childhood-Education

For clarification, I thought, perhaps, a time-line would enable my reader to get more of a grasp of the journey of this artist, Hermon Adams.

Childhood-Age Fifteen: Hermon received his first paints at a very early age, and does not recall a time when he did not draw or paint. He was a night owl and filled his nights with his favorite snack: sweet pickles, cheese, bread, and milk along with reading the encyclopedia. He gained a vast knowledge doing that, but was most interested in mythology. His grandmother, Mary Gillespie, an avid reader, told Hermon and his sisters wonderful stories that helped stretch his imagination. Hermon also had a love for horses and sold his first painting of horses, running through the water, at age 15. By that time, he had worked summers on the Prassle Dude Ranch in Raymond. He also trained horses at a ranch in Teague, Texas. He has a working knowlege of the horses anatomy from these early experiences.

Education: There were no art classes in high school. But that didn't stop Hermon from doing what he loved. His buddies, would gather at his house and watch him paint and draw. Then everyone put in his two cents and critiqued what Hermon had done. (The painting that I remember, when his den was filled with his friends and family, was of Tarzan climbing a huge tree. It was a commissioned piece for his friend he called "Perkins." Hermon did a self-portrait as Tarzan's face. It was quite novel. Apparently, Tarzan was Perkins' hero, and he was known for wearing his leopard bathing suit, while swinging through the trees giving a fantastic Tarzan yell!)
Hinds County (Junior) Community College: Hermon studied painting and art history, and had good guidance and encouragement from his teachers, in particular Mr. Walsh.
University of Southern Mississippi: Hermon studied sculpture there and the other required subjects to get his Fine Arts Degree in Advertising Design. While at Southern, Hinds did a show for Hermon in Raymond. He had several pieces of sculpture in various mediums, including plaster cast-Andrew Jackson bust; built-up plaster-a horse; cast cement-a stylized Greek sentry, "The Sentinel;" and a free-form metal piece that looked like a large clam. Some of his paintings were also abstract, because that is what his professors at Southern taught. "Chaos" was a rather large piece with shades of burnt umber, reds and oranges in geometric shapes. Hermon's next door neighbors bought this piece for their den. "The Apartment" looked like lit-up windows in a long and narrow taupe building. Hermon's sister, Mary, liked that piece so much, that he gave it to her. Hermon's showing was written up in the local newspaper.
While at Southern, Hermon worked a full quarter, day and night, on his Senior project, doing several extensive book illustration projects. Using photography, with his sister, Pattie, himself, and me as models, he did mock-ups of five book covers for Edgar Rice Burroughs' Mars Series, framing the books in a nice display. (That is another whole story in itself.) He did a black and white painting of a horse-drawn chariot pulling Hector behind, and printed it for the book cover for the classic, The Illiad. Hermon did a series of stylized pen and inks of the book's major points, and using a two-color press, printed several copies of a sample page. The drawings had been done on heavy poster board and made a very nice series of paintings, which we displayed in our house for several years. They remind me of the work seen on urns from legendary times of Greek and Roman figures. Last but not least, Hermon drew a series of illustrations for a children's version of The Illiad. It was the most professional looking of the displays of the Senior projects in the art department. Hermon made a "C" on his project, while a classmate did a map of the state of Mississippi and its products! She had done it the night before and she received an "A!" Her display was completely unprofessional and somewhat sloppy looking. What an injustice! There was no comparison whatsoever. I tried to convince Hermon to go to the Dean and appeal his grade. But he wouldn't do it. He said it didn't matter what his grade was; he knew that what he had done was far and away better than anything there. He had put his all into it and that was enough for him. He also recognized the criteria for the project grading system; he didn't have "boobs!"
Wedding, Temp Jobs, and the Army: This will be my next blog, along with some photos of older pieces of interest. Have a great evening. Sheila