The Printmaker's Bookshelf: Gustave Baumann

I suppose it seems a little... disloyal, perhaps... to start off my bookshelf ponderings with a woodcut artist as opposed to linocut, but here in the southwestern United States Gustave Baumann's (1881-1971) work is regarded as iconic.

Baumann began his career in Chicago, working as an illustrator in a commercial arts studio. He took night classes at the Art Institute of Chicago, and briefly studied in Munich in 1905.

It was in Germany that he made his first woodcuts and when he returned to the United States he devoted himself mostly to idyllic scenes of the rural midwest, and made friends with other painters and printmakers on forays to New York and Provincetown.

In 1918 Baumann made his first trip to Taos, New Mexico– and ultimately spent the rest of his life there, more than 50 years. He focused on both the dramatic and pastoral landscapes of the southwest and the lives of native Puebloans.

As someone who has spent most of her life in the west and southwest, Gustave Baumann's work says "home" to me. His color palette is rich with the pine greens, cobalt blues, and adobe reds of the high desert. But it's his design sense that first catches my eye, and the wide variety of marks he carved to create an amazing array of textures.

"Cholla and Sahuaro," woodcut, Gustave Baumann

Of course, when I paged through my books again this week that I realized Gustave Baumann was also fond of a square format. Sound like anyone you know?

Baumann was not a reduction printmaker. He used multiple blocks and experimented with color combinations. He was also a planner, a rather foreign concept to me. Most often he made complete paintings in gouache on toned paper, usually en plein air, on location. As if that weren't enough, he also ground his own inks.

"Piñon - Grand Canyon," gouache painting, Gustave Baumann

"Piñon - Grand Canyon," woodcut, Gustave Baumann

Baumann's southwestern works are all relatively small, no larger than 13" x 13," since he was limited to the capacity of his press, a Midget Reliance. (Printmaker note: From the "Piñon-Grand Canyon" example we can see he didn't worry about reversing his image before carving.)

Original Baumann prints are highly valued, ranging in price from about $1,500 for his older 2- or 3-color work to $20,000... and "Price on Request." For the budget inspiration-seeker, many of his images have been extensively reproduced as posters, calendars, and notecards. Which is just to say that if you come across a seller offering one of Baumann's southwest prints as a "signed original" for less than $5,000... you're either finding a screaming deal or a screaming scammer. Be careful out there.

I have three books about Gustave Baumann and his work on my shelf.

"Hand of a Craftsman," by David Acton. Museum of New Mexico Press, 1996

"Gustave Baumann: Nearer to Art," by Acton, Krause, and Yurtseven. Museum of New Mexico Press, 1993.

"Gustave Baumann's Southwest," by Joseph Traugott, New Mexico Museum of Art, 2007

Book junkies, you can thank me later. Be shrewd shoppers, because "Hand of a Craftsman" in particular seems to be fetching a wide range of prices in the book market, as well.

I'm going to go grab a cup of tea, peruse a few more pages, and then get back to work.

A quick change of scene

It seems as though the "summer crazies" begin earlier each year. The Heart of the Rockies has barely said goodbye to winter (it was still snowing around here last week) and suddenly our calendars are completely booked until October.

So, the DM and I take our escapes where and when we can find them, often combining them with something work-related so we can feel semi-productive (or at least not guilty). After David's Front Range gigs on Thursday and Friday last week we headed south to New Mexico. The DM arranged to connect with a fellow Stickist in Taos, and I wanted to see how the quintessential New Mexico town's gallery scene had weathered the economic rollercoaster.

Southbound I-25, headed towards Walsenburg. Interstate highways
have become a bit of a novelty for us. We hardly ever drive them.

It's apparent as you drive in to town that the galleries have struggled. One proprietor told us that 8 or 9 had closed up shop over the winter. But artists and musicians are resolute and determined. On Friday night we came across several cheerful and crowded opening receptions, and the Station Bar at the KTAO Solar Center was packed with folks enjoying live music. "Keep calm and carry on," as they say.

We squeezed a lot into just two days... galleries, music, eating, schmoozing... visits to the San Francisco de Asis Mission Church, Taos Pueblo, and of course, a short hike along the rim of the Rio Grande Gorge. It was great to get away and, as always, great to come home.

Rio Grande Gorge Bridge, about 10 miles north of Taos.

A local resident, not particularly camera shy.

Gorge Bridge and the Rio Grande, looking north.

If it's Sunday, it must be Salida

Okay. WHOOSH! We are home again. No alarm clock this morning, just a languid return to something that resembles our normal routine. We wandered down to the Salida Café for tea (coffee for the DM) and breakfast and a conversation about our lives now that I'm not running out of state for a while.

The Santa Fe workshop unfolded splendidly. We stayed with friends Matthew and Mary (a climate change scientist and art teacher/potter respectively) in their fabulous digs and enjoyed their generosity of spirit, belongings, and local know-how immensely.

The only questionable part of the week was that the DM got to slack off on the Plaza while I went to work.

The workshop took place on Museum Hill, at the amazing Museum of International Folk Art. THIS place you've gotta see, that's all I have to say.

Santa Fe art teachers sketching in the shade outside the
International Folk Art Museum in Santa Fe.
What could be nicer?

I spent a day and a half with the elementary (K-8) level art teachers of the Santa Fe School District, a talented and dedicated bunch facing an amazing array of challenges. On the one hand, it is exciting to see a school district that HAS art teachers at the elementary level. On the other hand, each teacher sees an average of 400 kids, one hour per student, every week. Many of these teachers are working in classrooms WITHOUT WATER, if you can believe it. Think of a room full of first graders with paint or clay and try to imagine that you have to haul water by the bucket load. It's crazy.

But we had a great time working together, sketching in and around the museum, making stab-bound books, and sharing ideas about education and educational processes.

On Friday after the workshop was over we were able to take the bus directly from the museums to downtown Santa Fe. The DM had scouted out all the cool places to visit before the insanity of the Indian Market began, so we wandered around for a bit until time to meet Mary and Matthew for dinner. If you've never been to Santa Fe in high tourist season... well... let's just say the people watching is GREAT. There is a dizzying array of over-the-top things to look at in any season... paintings, jewelry, pottery, sculpture of course... but also home furnishings and clothing. This shop was closed when we went by, but.... new boots, anyone?

I know some working cowboys who will be rolling on the floor when they see this display.

Saturday (was that only yesterday?) was, of course, market day. We've been missing our local market routine, so it was off to the Santa Fe Farmers' Market first! We had ginormous breakfast burritos, fresh organic cranberry juice, and of course coffee for the DM. We were on a quest for small, mild green chilis called shishitou (I think), which Mary had served up for us... roasted and salted and yummy. We brought home two bags of what I hope are the right thing. We'll find out at supper.

Don't you love the flower she's carrying?

From the Farmers' Market it was just a few blocks' walk to the heart of the 87th SWAIA Indian Market. Our friend Sally Paschall was one of the 1,200 artists (!!!!!) from about 100 tribes who show their work in over 600 booths. (And, hooray Sally! She won a first place ribbon in her division!) Talk about visual overload. Santa Fe more than doubles in size on Indian Market weekend... they estimate 100,000 visitors over two days.

The DM at Santa Fe Indian Market yesterday morning!

Luckily the DM and I have about the same tolerance for crowds, so we strolled street after street until we agreed we had had enough and then headed for home. That great New Mexico light came with us all the way back to Colorado, and now we're excited and revved up about getting back to our own work! Can't wait.

All's well that begins well

Right about the time I decided I ought to give the yard a little water, we got a downpour. (Complete with small hail.) I'll take the culminating light show as a good omen for the journey ahead. We're off to Santa Fe in the morning (yup, the DM gets to come along on this one), where I am pleased to be doing an inservice for all of the elementary art teachers in the Santa Fe School District. Wow! Very cool. We'll sketch and journal and even make the stab bound books I described here once upon a time. Back on Sunday, see you then!

Animas River, mid day

Farmington Riverwalk. A few minutes in the shade.

Land of Enchantment

Yup. I'm in New Mexico.

I've been on the road about a week, wending my way slowly across the southwest corner of Colorado and into the Land of Enchantment. (24-hours after my arrival in Farmington I think it should be called the Land of Outrageous Library Booksales Causing Me to Fill the Trunk of the Car with 40 Additional Pounds of Reading Material.)


The last several days have been... well... they've been a lot of things. Last Thursday I met several delightful and accomplished women for whom I did a little field sketching workshop. We did some drawing, and indulged in panini and books and the stunning views above Crested Butte. A fine way to spend an afternoon, and invigorating as always to meet new people.

That evening I stayed with friends in Montrose, caught up on some chisme, and admired the progress of their work on their new house. Their chinchilla, Santiago, consented to sit with me for a little while, too, which satisfied a childhood desire long-stifled. I had friends in grade school whose family raised chinchillas, but those critters were declared untouchable. FINALLY, 35 years later, I got to sink my fingers into that ridiculously dense pelt. A good reminder that some goals just take a while to attain.

From there to Durango, for the Colorado Art Ranch Artposium, "Mapping in the Arts." More about this later, but it was a fabulously mind-expanding, idea-inspiring, question-launching, laughter-filled gathering once again. Of particular intrigue to me were the presentations by Peter Turchi, whose book, Maps of the Imagination: The Writer as Cartographer, I have been enjoying very much and Nikos Salingaros, outspoken thorn-in-the-flesh of contemporary architecture and eloquent proponent of biophilic design.

And now I'm in New Mexico, visiting friends and enjoying that off-balance feeling that comes with being in unfamiliar territory. Tomorrow I'll turn around and head for home, since the next day I'll be receiving a visitor of my own... a college chum not seen in 24 years.

So... in addition to still feeling snake-skin-ish I am now feeling like a manic squirrel, stockpiling ideas and experiences, memories and explorations for the shorter, darker days ahead.

Life is good.