Wildlife Art Collection

8/10/2019 Wildlife Art Collection

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Wildlife Art andAnimal Paintings Art Collection

COLLECTING RESOURCE GUIDE

Animal paintings and wildlife sculpture from Southwest Art and theartists who create the artistically powerful and unique works.

Melissa J. Cooper, Morning Companions, bronze, 10 x 13.

FORYOUR


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A Natural InclinationRod Zullos sculptures reflect his lifelong love for animals and art

B Y M A R K M U S S A R I

ROD

ZULLO

ANYONE WHO HAS wandered thesylvan landscape of Pennsylvanias BucksCounty can understand exactly wheresculptor Rod Zullo is coming from, bothpersonally and artistically. Zullo grew upin New Hope, a town renowned for the

Raging Bull, bronze, 15 x 20.

artists and other notables who are drawnto its pastoral beauty and creative spirit.In Bucks County there were always suc-cessful artists, people held in high es-teem in the creative arts, he recalls. Asa child, Zullo was exposed to prominent

Pennsylvania art movements, includingthe Brandywine Schoolwhich gave theworld the Wyethsand the local NewHope School of impressionists.

It all just sank in from living there,observes Zullo, and from living withparents who appreciated the arts. Hedescribes his youthful self as the artkid and expresses gratitude to his par-ents for encouraging his talent. Theywerent rich, he explains, but they had

good taste and an appreciation for art.At the age of 8 he was introduced to au-thor James Michener, who had a homein Bucks County (an art museum therenow bears Micheners name). Zullos fa-ther was also friends with woodworkerGeorge Nakashima, famous for his ele-gant, hand-carved furniture, and took hisson to Nakashimas studio.

Artistic genes ran in the family. Zullos


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The Tired Horse, bronze, 10 x 12.

paternal grandmother was an oil painter,although her career was shortened whenshe developed multiple sclerosis. Still,she encouraged Zullos parents to sendthe boy to professional art lessons. Laterin life, Zullo discovered that he is a di-rect descendant of Italian Renaissancepainter Francesco Zullo. If you look atthe path that has led me here, he says,its pretty obvious its where I shouldhave ended up.

Another important interest blossomedin Zullos childhood: His father fostered alove for fishing and the outdoors. WhenI finished high school, I decided I wouldwork on fishing boats, recal ls Zullo,who had been offered scholarships toart school. His original intention was tofirst save some money and then enter artschool. What was going to be a coupleyears sojourn from school ended up be-

coming 10 years, he admits. But evenat sea, Zullo was studying and learning.One of the sculptors who really in-spired me was Kent Ullberg, who sculpt-ed these wonderful marine mammals.Without even knowing him, his workinspired me to do what I knewwhat Iloved most, he says. It gave me hopethat I could express myself and speak myown language.

Finally, art school beckoned. After 10

years at sea, I had this creative energythat needed to be fulfilled, Zullo ex-plains. Because his father had introducedhim to fishing in Montana in his child-hood, Zullo chose Montana State Univer-sity in Bozeman for his art studies. Morethan his classes, Montanas dramaticlandscapes and wildlife spoke directlyto his artistic nature. He also discov-ered a lifelong mentor in Floyd Tennison

DeWitt, a Montana-born sculptor knownfor his equine figures.

After school and during the winters,Zullo supplemented his knowledge ofsculpting by working in foundries inBozeman. After being exposed to sculpt-ing in the foundry, he notes, the desireto create was irresistible. At work Zulloabsorbed all the information he couldabout the casting process. I gained moreknowledge outside of school than in it,

he says.While obviously influenced by life in

the West, Zullo also cites several inter-national figures as significant influenceson his three-dimensional art. I thinkAlberto Giacometti has been enormous-ly influential on some of my work, hepoints out. Also Antoine Bourdelle, aFrenchman and student of Rodins whocame into his own. In addition, Zullo


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mentions the work of Paolo Troubetzkoy,the Russian-Italian sculptor. He wasextraordinarily expressive, says Zullo.Exposure to these artists has had a pro-found effect on the singular approachZullo takes in his animal sculptures: Mytravels to Italy have been very power-ful, enabling me to break away from thewestern realism that exists west of theMississippi.

To study abroad, Zullo borrowed mon-ey and went into debtyet he insists he

has no regrets. I couldnt afford to doit, but looking back, I couldnt afford notto do it, he says. I was seeking moreknowledge than I was capable of gettingon my own.

TODAY, ZULLO works predominantlyin bronze. His early sculptures mostlydepicted marine wildlife, but more re-cent works include all kinds of animals,

Into Thin Air, bronze, 22 x 24. Lenore, bronze, 22 x 13.

including equine figures, birds, and vari-ous game. A lot of my animal sculpturesare very human oriented, he explains,because the human condition is part ofevery one of those creatures. For exam-ple, a cow with the ironic title of UDDERMADNESSreflects a particularly difficulttime in the artists life. When I did thatpiece I had just broken my neck, saysZullo. My life was pure, utter madness,and I just needed to express that. See-ing an old cow standing alone in a pas-

ture, Zullo found a visual expression ofhis emotional state: I thought, there itisthat defines the craziness of my liferight now.

At the same time that they possess astrong narrative sense, Zullos sculp-tures and elegant bas-reliefs display anintricate knowledge of animal anatomy.Im just one of those people who grewup surrounded by animals, dogs, and

pets, he reveals. The more dogs I meet,the more dogs I love. Zullo says he findssomething consistent in the nature ofanimals: A horse wants a carrot, a dogwants a pat on the back, or a neighborscat rubs against my legthose thingsdont change.

Although Zullo defines himself, ar-tistically, as a realist, he admits thatsomething reminiscent of expression-ism surfaces in the rough-hewn texturalquality of his sculptures. He says this is

a natural progression in his creative jour-ney. My work is very real but also veryexpressive, especially some of my newestpieces, he notes. Zullo achieves this rug-ged texture partly in the casting process.I leave a lot of the investment [plasteror clay that forms the mold in the lost-wax casting process] in my pieces; I dontsand-blast them, he explains, addingthat this is due in part to the influence of


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Italian sculptor Marino Marini.Zullo says his goal is to impart an

aged, unearthed feeling to his work,and, indeed, many of the pieces seemlike figures discovered in an archeologi-cal dig. Color increases this effect, andcritics frequently laud Zullo for his in-

ventive patinas.In his piece ODE TO THE WEST WIND,

Zullo depicts a large work horse with abowed head and a wind-blown tail. Thesolitary horse stands steady, exuding adistinct strength of purpose. Youre inthe middle of Montana, and its 20 be-low, and there are these big horses outin the pasture waiting it out, explainsZullo, who worked for eight years on thesculpture.

In INTO THIN AIR, depicting a hawkabout to take flight from a rocky ledge,

Zullo crafts a study in angles and move-ment, the rock inclining in the oppositedirection of the soon-departing bird.Crackly pieces of investment enhance thesculptures textural effect. That pieceis a metaphor for the leap of faith that ismy art, observes Zullo. It really is like aleap off a cliff.

His sculptures have won a number ofprestigious awards, including the 2003best new artist award from the Nation-al Sculpture Society. He still resides inBozeman, and when he isnt sculpting orpainting, he works as a hunting and fish-

ing guide, which, of course, continues toinform his art.

Zullo often finds himself in the studiobefore daybreak, and he says he feelslucky to have a studio separate from hishouse. I work a lot, but the greatestgift of all is that I can work wheneverI want, he notes. His home functionssomewhat like a western salon. A lot offellow artists visit or come by or stay. Itsa place where artists are welcome, saysZullo. Challengesincluding a divorceand complications arising from donat-ing a kidney to a friendhave failed to

slow him down. Theyve reignited mycreative energy, he comments. Mycreative side is the one thing that neverleaves me. F

Mark Mussari is a Tucson-based freelancer who

writes frequently about art and design.

Bison, bronze, 16 x 22.

The Road Less Traveled, bronze, 15 x 14.


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Wonderland

of CharactersPokey Parks fantasticalfigures reflect hermulticultural interests

B Y M A R K M U S S A R I

POKEYPARK

POKEY PARKis a self-proclaimed loner,but her world is peopled with more char-

acters than an anthology of fairy tales.Birds, wolves, turtles, frogs, lions, drag-onsher work comprises a menagerieof creatures recycled through her ownidiosyncratic, mythical lens. The resultswould make Lewis Carroll proud.

A kaleidoscope of anthropomorphizedanimals that frequently wrap their limbsaround themselves in circular bliss,her works range from chess piece-sized

Midnight Serenade, bronze, 42 x 34 x 24.


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The Shaman, bronze, 40 x 20 x 20.

miniatures to monumental sculptures.Parks imaginative bronzes stare at youfrom every corner of her home high in theSanta Catalina Mountains of Tucson, AZ.

You have to be strong to love thedesert, asserts Park, whose real nameis Marie Whittle-Webb Park. Her great

uncle gave her the name Pokey when,as a girl, she would fall behind him dur-ing their nature walks. I was alwaysstopping to observe, she recalls. I liketo absorb where I am. And where shehas been is just about everywhere, fromthe Aleutian Islands to Southeast Asia tothe Canadian Arctic. Ive been lucky tovisit many different places in the world,she adds, and that tendency has helpedmy art.

Park was born in Brunswick, GA, andgrew up on St. Simons Island, a barrier

island off the Georgia coast. The oceanscenery spoke immediately to her visualsensitivity. I love patterns, she ex-plains, all those textures in seashells,driftwood, and shadows on the dunes.

Her father bought her first art sup-plies. And she can thank a bar of soapfor her first sculpting experience. I wasa Brownie, and I carved a bar of soap toget an art badge, she says, but I endedup with nothing but a sliver of soap. Sheadds that her dyslexia also fed into herdesire to express herself visually: If Icouldnt find the words, Id draw a pic-

ture and communicate that way. Parkwas also fortunate to have a mother witha heightened sense of aesthetics, whichshe imparted to her daughter.

Art and nature began to merge as thedriving forces in Parks youth. She at-tended the University of Georgia, whereshe majored in ceramics and earned abachelors in fine arts. After gradua-tion, she also took classes at a ceramicsworkshop in Cali fornia, where, she says,I learned to throw just about anythingon a wheel. Although her first marriageand raising four children took prece-

dence over her artistic endeavors, shestill found time to sculpt on the side. Isculpted everythingpeople, animals,plaques, she notes.

Bronze soon emerged as her favoredmedium. Bronze is permanent, and I likethings to be real, she comments. I used


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to stare at pictures of ancient bronzes,especially observing the negative spa-ces. This study eventually informed heroverall compositional sense, particularlyin the narrative play of negative andpositive spaces.

As whimsical as Parks sculptures of-

ten appear, a realist element surfaces intheir careful detail. Even if I take it to anextreme, she explains, youll still see apaw or a nose or some anatomical detail.Although categorizing Parks sculpturesis somewhat difficult, she feels comfort-able being called a whimsical realist.Theyre whimsical but with an attitude,she is quick to add.

While her work includes recliningturtles, hopping rabbits, and children atplay, many of her figures appear in ovoidshapesmulti-textural, mythical crea-

tures with limbs and tails swirling inon themselves. Addressing the dynamic

sense of movement this creates, Parkpoints out that she doesnt want figuresthat are static. I use a lot of piercing,opening up the surface to create light andmovement, she says. It keeps the eyemoving. This curvilinear element alsoreflects her diverse cultural interests.

Says Park: Ive been influenced by manydifferent cultures, especially the arts ofthe northeastern Inuit and Japanese net-

sukes. The latter are intricately carvedpurse toggles, usually made of ivory. Ivelearned that similar myths and symbolsexist among disparate cultures, she ex-plains, and that all indigenous groupshave fetish symbols.

PARK CITES her travels as the greatestinfluence on her work. However, certainother artists have also had a profound ef-

fect on her approach. When I was veryyoung, I saw some of Degas ballerinas.

I loved seeing those patterns and tex-tures together, she says, reflecting onhis blending of metal and cloth materials.She was also struck by the studies Rodindid for his sculpture of Balzac. The finalfigure is wrapped in a robe, so mostly youonly see his face, she notes. Yet, it was

the studies that fascinated Parksomeof them even depicted Balzac nude. Heunderstood that man so well, she ob-serves. And you can see all of that in thefinished sculpture.

A parallel effect surfaces in her circularmythical creations: Their energy seemsbound inside their enveloping forms,lending the restrained power of a talis-man. That energy has driven many ofmy ideas, admits Park. Her towering ZO-DIAC TOTEM [see page 9] offers a primeexample of this condensed, focused

power. The monumental bronze stands9 feet tall. Four animals, inspired by the

Chasing My Shadow, bronze, 23 x 33.Alter Ego, bronze, 34 x 18 x 17.


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Zodiac Totem 1, bronze, 9 feet tall.

Chinese zodiac, are stacked verticallyatop a frog resting on a lily pad.

The piece represents transformation,rebirth, explains Park, who also incor-porated elements of American Indiantotems. I changed some of the Chineseanimals to Southwestern ones, she com-

ments. The dog becomes a wolf, and thepig has morphed into a javelina. Althoughdifferent animals grace different versionsof the totem (she plans to complete alltwelve signs of the zodiac), the effect re-mains the same: The eye moves from fig-ure to figure, each connected to the otherby a floral wreath representing nature infull bloom. Park emphasizes the power ofthe individual animals by ascribing eacha specific patina.

Park sculpts in a painstaking manner,beginning with a small, 4- to 6-inch clay

model. A foundry in Tucson then digi-tally scans her clay figure and producesan enlargement in a block of Styrofoam.I do a lot of work on the foam, says theartist, who then sprays a coating of clayon the model and continues to work onit. The foam is my armature. A rubbermold then leads to the final form, andthe subsequent lost-wax process resultsin the poured-bronze figure.

Parks main studio is an area she hasset up in her backyard under a largeumbrella. The setting is breathtaking,with majestic saguaros punctuating the

dramatic landscape of the Santa Cata-linas. Visitors are greeted at the frontdoor by several of her large-scale turtlesculptures, jovial creatures also foundlounging around the backyard pool. Parkhas indoor studio space as well and con-fesses that she must force herself to notwork all the time. I work seven daysa week, she admits. When I work, Iam completely absorbedits the mostwonderful place to be. And with thecompany of her mythical menagerie, shecouldnt be happier. F

Mark Mussari writes frequently about art and

design.


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Their Morning Catch, oil, 20 x 24.

Into His OwnNicholas Coleman finds his voice

as a western and wildlife artist

B Y G U S S I E F A U N T L E R O Y

ITS A CHARMING SCENE to envi-sion: Nicholas Coleman, 3 years old,watches intently as his father, notedwildlife and western art ist Michael

Coleman, works on a painting. At onepoint the elder Coleman marks off asmall area on the canvas. He tells his sonthis is a spot where the toddler can con-tribute to the painting, which Nicholashappily does.

Later, when his father is not in the stu-dio, little Nicholas sneaks back in andpaints a bit moreoutside his designatedspotjust to see if his father will notice.

He probably did notice, and he probablylaughed, Coleman recounts, smiling. Headds, in explanation, that his areas topaint were always dark spots, under a

rock, in the shadows. My father wouldpaint over what I did, but the shadowwould sti ll be there, although there wasnothing noticeable where someone wouldsay, Did a 3-year-old paint this? It wasdefinitely fun, thats for sure.

The younger Coleman continuedhaving a small hand in his fatherspaintingsno pun intendedthroughelementary school. As a young teen he

NICHOLASCOLEMAN


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encampments and the lives of 19th-century mountain men. With all of hissubjects, Coleman strives for, and at-tains, a timeless sense of the dailyrhythms and quiet interconnectedness ofnature and man.

COLEMAN GREW UP with twobrothers and a sister, but it was he whomost shared his fathers passion for theoutdoors, for hunting and fishing, andalso for visiting art museums whereverthe family traveled. My Dad could dono wrong in my eyes. For whatever rea-son, I loved everything Dad showed me.I loved whatever we did together. Deerhunting at 4 a.m.? Okay! Lets go! he re-calls, smiling. So I cant help but paintthe way I do.

Even as a child, Coleman shared his fa-

thers fascination for reproducing the ex-perience of early American trappers andmountain men. Together, father and sonvolunteered to trap and skin muskrats torid a nearby golf course of the rodents.The artist also remembers his fatherteaching him to catch fish with his hands.

Following graduation from high school,Coleman spent two years in Brazil as partof a missionary project with the Mormonchurch. The experience opened his eyesto other cultureshe remains fluent inPortugueseand taught him the impor-tance of being of service to others.

When not teaching English, helpingbuild houses, or sharing his churchsmessage, he spent his free time draw-ing, painting in watercolor and gouache,and taking hundreds of photographs. Ispent about a year in rural ranchland ar-eas. Sometimes Id be walking along anda dozen gauchos (cowboys) would comeriding through the mist, he relates. Itwas the stuff of paintings.

By then, at age 19, Coleman had knownfor several years that he wanted to pursuea career in art (as a preteen he briefly con-sidered neurosurgery, until he learned

how much schooling it required), and histime in Brazil intensified his deep convic-tion that art would be his life.

As soon as he returned to Provo, heset up an easel and began to paint. Hepainted during every spare minute whileattending Brigham Young University andearning a degree in art. I had a goodwork ethic before, but I had a really goodwork ethic after Brazil, he says. I knew

In the Shadow, oil, 22 x 18.

was given primed boards and photosfor reference, and he began creating hisown paintings. Wed both be workingin the studio, and Id get done in a dayand Id say, Whats taking you so long?he recalls.

The artist, now 30, laughs at the memo-ry as he relaxes in the studio at his Provo,

UT, home. Coleman lives with his wife,Meta, and their young son, Henrik Nicho-las, in the foothills above the town wherehe grew up and where his father still re-sides and paints. Around him in the stu-dio are more than a dozen oil paintings,some as large as 40 by 60 inches. Almostas many frames lean against the walls. Ineed more space, he points out, addingthat he hopes to soon finish a basement

that will contain his art library, storagespace, and a second studio for his workin gouache.

Between Colemans earliest forays intopainting and his successful career to-day, a constellation of art-related expe-riencesnot the least of which was hisfathers open-studio-door policycame

together to produce an impressive levelof talent, as evidenced by his invitationto participate in the prestigious Mastersof the American West Exhibition andSale, which is held each year at the AutryNational Center in Los Angeles.

The artist has attracted a broad base ofcollectors for his work, which includeswildlife and western themes, and, morespecifically, scenes of American Indian


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In Silent Places, oil, 20 X 16.

how to focus all day, six days a week.Having his father nearby was also an

enormous help. The two shared referencematerials, including the elder Colemanscollection of hundreds of thousands ofphotos; hundreds of books on art, wild-life, and the Old West; period cloth-

ing and accessories; and all manner ofpropseverything from stuffed animalheads to authentic birchbark canoes. To-day, his own studio is filled with a simi-lar collection, which grows continuously.It helps with the research, to get every-thing right, he notes.

During his early years of painting, Cole-man also turned to his father for techni-cal advice. Often he chose a subject andjumped in without knowing how to painta certain aspect of the scene. His fatherwould explain how hewould do it, and

the younger artist translated those point-ers into a painting reflecting his own vi-sion and style.

Still, not surprisingly, viewers oftennote likenesses between paintings byColeman and those of his father, includ-ing similar imagery and color palette.Some people say Im a chip off the olblock. Im definitely a Coleman, he ob-serves. Over the past nine years Ivewondered how I can separate myself asan artist. I think Im still evolving.

As an academically trained painter,Coleman finds that developing a distinc-

tive artistic voice is not as simple as, say,shifting to a more impressionist style.While his work does contain areas oflooser brushwork, it diverges from hisfathers art in other ways as well.

Whereas both artists paint big game,Nicholas also focuses on small animalsand their habitatsan intimate view of abirds nest, for example, or a mink on theprowl. He is intrigued and inspired by theanimals that frequent his foothills prop-erty, including foxes, squirrels, deer, anda large covey of quail. As a way of passingon his love and understanding of nature

to his toddler son and other youngsters,Coleman has written and illustrated achildrens book, called In the North Woods,which he hopes to have published soon.

But more than simply painting wildlife,Coleman endeavors to portray the com-plex, all-encompassing interplay betweenanimals, their environment, and hu-mans. To accomplish this, he periodicallyspends time in places barely touched by Snowshoe Rabbit, oil, 12 X 16.


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modern life, practicing age-old methodsof obtaining and cooking meat or fish.

Often when he camps with friends, hetakes along period clothing. His friendswill ingly accommodate him by changinginto the outfits and posing by the camp-fire for photos that will become reference

for paintings. With no telephone poles,baseball caps, or other current-day ob-jects in sight, these images are infusedwith the timeless atmosphere of an agegone by.

Ive been to the places I paint. Ive satnext to the fire and smelled the smoke,the artist reflects. I do some actionpaintings, but I like the quieter, morethought-provoking pieces. I try to create a

sense of mood, the feeling of being there.PIEGAN CAMP AT DUSK,based on Cole-

mans research on the Piegan tribe of theNorthern Plains, is set along a river inMontana. The first time I drove up there,I imagined a camp in that place, becausethats where I would have put a camp,

he explains. The painting strikingly de-picts the stillness of evening as campfiresare lit, water is drawn from the river, andfamilies settle in for the night.

Coleman has visited such encamp-ments in dreams. He also imagines an en-joyable afterlife in which a celestial guideplaces him gently and temporarily in themidst of everyday life in different timesand places throughout history. As he en-

visions it, not only would he experiencediverse eras and cultures, he would alsowitness the worlds great artas it wasbeing made.

In a more modest vision, Coleman pic-tures his own eventual place within thehistory of art. I want to keep painting

as long as I can, he says. And when Imdone, I want to look back and say, Ohgood. I ended up painting somethingeven better than I started out to do. F

Santa Fe-based Gussie Fauntleroy also writes for Art

& Antiques, New Mexico Magazine, Native Peoples,

and the Santa Fean.

This content has been abridged from an original article written by Gussie Fauntleroy. F+W Media, Inc. All rightsreserved. F+W Media grants permission for any or all pages in this premium to be copied for personal use.

Piegan Camp at Dusk, oil, 30 x 40.


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Horse SenseOregon sculptor Dixie Jewett fashions miraculouslylifelike steeds from cast-off bits and pieces of metal

B Y N O R M A N K O L P A S

Maytag Matilda (foreground), found objects, 7 feet tall, and Prince (background), found objects, 10 feet tall.


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THINK FOR A MOMENT about thesimiles we sometimes choose to describethe strength and grit of horses. We com-pare their muscles to steel or imaginetheir sinews tensed and torqued likewire cables.

Now, consider how we turn such com-

parisons around, measuring our machinesby equine standards. Our cars surge withhorsepower. Railroad locomotives areiron horses.

You can see the pattern. Its been im-pressed upon our human psyches overmillennia of interaction with animals ofthe genus Equus. Horses often seem likedivine works of sculpture, as if made ofthe strongest metal turned fluid and thenmiraculously sprung to life.

Those links we imagine between horse,metal, and machine may explain why

Dixie Jewetts equine sculptures seemso perfectly right, despite how undeni-ably eclectic and strange their construc-tion may appear on close inspection.A single glimpse of one of her usuallylife-sized steeds, composed of materialsranging from auto parts and farm equip-ment to baling wire, railroad spikes, andbroken tools, can leave the impressionthat the artist has somehow snatched herwork from the depths of our collectivesubconscious.

Held together with sturdy steel frame-works and assembled with the painstak-

ing detail of intricate three-dimensionalpuzzles, such artworks express a masterythat belies the mere 14 years Jewett hasbeen producing them. Yet, they undeni-ably result from a lifetime thats as mul-tifaceted as the materials the 64-year-oldartist employs.

Jewett grew up in rural Montana.Her folks, Orville and Josephine Jewett,raised cows and crops of hay and wheatnear tiny Willow Creek, close to the Ca-nadian border. I grew up familiar withthat landscape, and with the horses andthe farm machinery, she recalls. I espe-

cially remember harvesting wheat withthe old horse-drawn thrashing machineand chucking it up into bundles.

At home and in school, young Dixiealways shone as an artist, but her tal-ent was just something that was there,that I did, that I was. Most of her earlydrawing dexterity was honed copyingthe calendar reproductions of westernscenes by the likes of Charlie Russell or

detailed images of birds from a book ofAudubon illustrations her parents had. Ijust used school stuff, tablets and pencilsand crayons and one of those watercolorsets with the little dried squares of paintin the little tin.

When she was 12, her parents split andshe and her siblings moved with theirmom 350 miles south to the restoredghost town of Virginia City, between Boz-eman and Butte. There, she gained moreknowledge by hanging out in the shack ofan old cowboy artist who specialized insouvenir pen-and-ink drawings. I love

pen and ink to this day, she says.Soon, the teenagers talent led to the

beginnings of a livelihood based on art.In high school, she says, I was paint-ing signs for the fronts of stores and silk-screening posters for local theaters.

But Jewett had a wanderlust, bred per-haps by the wide-open spaces in whichshed been raised. She hit the road and, inher early twenties, wound up in Alaska.

Finally, she recalls, I ran out of moneyin Ketchikan, so I got a job there drivinga taxi.

The most sought-after fares, shelearned, took tourists down to thedocks to catch seaplane air taxis, a com-mon mode of transportation among thenarrows and inlets of the states rug-ged coastline. Jewett showed unusualcourtesy to her fares; Id carry peoplesluggage down the stairs to the dock in-stead of leaving them at the curb like theother drivers. Soon, she says, the ownerof one air taxi service was calling up the

dispatcher and demanding, Send thatdame out.

It was a short step from there to Jewettlearning to fly those seaplanes and othersmall aircraft herself, spending almost adecade and a half working in Alaska as apilot. Her childhood famil iarity with ma-chinery led her, as well, to start rebuild-ing old aircraft, from souping up theirengines to modifying their bodies and

Dixie Jewett with Drifter.


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home again, she tried her hand at sculpt-ing bronzes and crafting raku-style pot-tery figures of fat little horses in brightcolors. But she found bronze didnt suit

her style, and she was frustrated by thesize limitations of the kiln and the fragil-ity of raku. I just had to find a way to dosomething bigger that wouldnt break,she remembers thinking.

Inspiration finally came after her moveto western Oregon in the mid-1990s. AtLawrence Gallery there, she saw theworks of sculptor John Richen, who fab-ricates large stainless steel and bronze

was taking off from Cordova airport onthe Orca Inlet, she had an epiphany. Justoff the end of the runway, I saw a guywith his easel set up, painting. That was

a pivotal moment. I thought, Ive got toget back to art. Ive been sidetracked fortoo long.

She returned to Montana, buying ahouse in Bozeman, but the career tran-sition proved difficult at first. I justdidnt know how to go about making aliving as an artist, she says. A flying tripto France, and visits to some of its greatmuseums, brought her fresh resolve. Back

restoring their fabric skins, a pastime shecontinues to this day.

An older pastime also endured. In theevenings, she says, I would draw in pen

and ink. I even created and published acoloring book of airplanes, from the ear-liest aircraft through jetliners. Once,when she was sidelined from flying fora couple of months, she also dabbled inoils, painting Alaskan scenes that soldwell in a show she had in the lobby of alocal bank.

ONE DAY in the early 1980s, while she

Drifter, found objects, 12 feet tall.


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process, she explains, is a little bitplanned, a little bit intuitive. I start atthe nose and just work aft. She laughsat realizing shes used an aviation term.Well, I guess it is pretty much likebuilding airplanes. You have this frame,and then its fleshed out.

Fleshed out is putting it mildly.Through Jewetts art, inert pieces of metalsomehow feel as if they pulse with lifehumankinds time-honored metaphors forthe horse are made wondrously real. F

Norman Kolpas is a Los Angeles-based freelancer

who writes for Mountain Living and Colorado

Homes & Lifestylesas well as Southwest Art.

This content has been abridged from an original article written by Norman Kolpas. F+W. All rightsreserved. F+W grants permission for any or all pages in this premium to be copied for personal use.

sculptures combining vivid realism withbold elements of abstraction. I cant be-lieve theres a person alive who wouldntfall in love with his work, Jewett says.She also renewed her admiration for theboldly scaled, welded-metal sculptures ofJim Dolan, known for his larger-than-life

public works of natural subjects rangingfrom a whitetail buck to a flight of Can-ada geese.

Gradually, it dawned on Jewett thatyou could just build up metal sculp-tures, you didnt needs molds. And youcould make horses that look like horses,she says. So I got a welder and startedwelding up what I had around.

The bits and pieces of metal in herworkshop, combined with fresh findsfrom garage sales, became her first hugehorse, which she decided to submit to the

annual Sculpture in the Park show heldthe second week of August in Loveland,CO. Happy with the results but unsureof how the piece might be received, shesecured it upright to a flatbed trailer andheaded to Colorado. What happened ather first stop, when she pulled into a gasstation in the Columbia River Gorge, wasa sign of things to come.

Jeez, she still recalls with a hushedsense of wonder. Here come all thesecars over, and everyone was flockingaround the horse, going nuts. Id done itsort of as a lark, and suddenly I thought,

Ive got something going there.People respond to her work, Jewett

feels, not only because the sculptureslook so amazingly lifelike and animated,but also because they can identify withall the little bits. Theyve got stuff likethat at home. She vividly remembers thereactions of one couple. The wife wasamazed by how realistic and alive thehorse looked. Meanwhile, her husbandwas up close to it and said, Wow! A 57Chevy headlight!

Almost a decade and a half later, Jew-ett remains dedicated to the artistic path

shed sought for so long. She now makesher home in the town of Dayton, about 50miles southwest of Portland, on a 34-acreChristmas-tree farm that shes consid-ering transforming into a vineyard andwinery. She works in a 60-by-100-footbarn that offers ample room for the tonsand tons of stuff she now routinelypicks up from scrap yards and farm auc-tions. I plan projects for just about every

load I get, she says.Each project takes some three months

to realize, and sometimes a little longerif the parts are small. She usually startsby making a soapstone sketch on the ce-ment floor. That guides her in weldingsteel tubing to create the steeds interior.

And then Ive got some fairly stiff wireto go around the outline, she explains.

Finally, sometimes welding directlyonto the frame or, when the materialwont take a weld, fitting it with a col-lar or drilling a hole for a weldable pin,she begins attaching things. When sheneeds reference for musculature, shelltie one of her horses outside. The entire

Stormy Bay, found objects, 13 feet tall.


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A Breed ApartTexas-based Teresa Elliott has found her nichepainting portraits of longhorn cattle

B Y N O R M A N K O L P A S

Mystic Outback, oil, 40 x 60.

TERESAELLIOTT

THE EYES SEIZEyour attention, just asthey do in any great portrait. Their com-plexity, light, and depth express a per-sonality captured in full. You dont feelas if youre simply viewing another liv-ing being but, rather, that youre actuallymaking a connection with another soul.

No matter that Teresa Elliotts subjectsare Texas longhorn cattle. The subtlety


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and sureness with which she paints herlarge-scale canvases lead many folks whoencounter them to experience surpris-ingly emotional reactions.

I hear people say that they feel as ifthey are connecting with the longhorns,says Elliott, hastening to add that she

doesnt intentionally set out to anthropo-morphize the animals. But I have such areverence for my subjects that when Imdone, there seems to be something intheir expressions that I wasnt aware ofwhen I started. They just wind up havinga human aspect.

Count a lifelong connection to the pas-toral American West for some of the rev-erence that inspires Elliotts oils. Add tothat an equally long-standing affinity forart, and youve got a combination of fac-tors that seems to have destined the art-

ist for the success she enjoys today.

TERESA ELLIOTT was born in 1953about 25 miles due west of Fort Worth,TX, in the small city of Weatherford, thenearest community big enough to havea hospital. Both her parents grew up inSpringtown, where her grandfather had afarm. Her father became a salesman andtook his young family with him to NewMexico, Kansas City, Oklahoma City, andfinally St. Louis, where Teresa spent mostof her childhood. But we would visit mygrandfathers farm during vacations, she

says, recalling how she was always fasci-nated by the animals there.

An even earlier memory, however, in-volved art supplies: When I was 2 yearsold, I was always asking my parents forpaper and a pencil. We didnt have manytoys and, left to my own devices, I woulddraw. By the time she entered kinder-garten, she says, my skills were prettygood. My drawings were always the mostrecognizable, the ones that ended up onthe classroom wall. I got a lot of positivereinforcement.

More significant reinforcement came

from a set of books her parents bought be-fore she had finished elementary school.It was called Childcraft, she says, refer-ring to a popular multi-book series withthe subtitle The How and Why Library andindividual volumes like Who We Are, HowThings Work, and The World of Animals. But itwas the one called Art Around Us that re-ally captured her attention.

It had pieces by Renoir and Van Gogh

in it, says Elliott, her voice hushed withthe happy memory. I pored over thosepictures so much that theyre still etchedin my brain. We never set foot in a mu-seum or a gallery, so that set of booksmust have started it because I remember

looking at them and telling myself that Iwanted to be an artist.

In 1971, after graduating from Kirk-wood High School in Kirkwood, MO,Elliott sought a summer job to help payfor college. The Six Flags Over Mid-America amusement park had just openedin St. Louis, and she got a job there in ashop called Quick Draw. Six days aweek, from 10 a.m. until dark, I would

just draw peoples facesserious pastelsketches, not those exaggerated carica-tures you see. She swears she wasntvery good at first, but like a sponge, shewatched and absorbed what more expe-rienced Quick Draw artists were doing.

Pretty soon, she says, people wouldwait in line for me, and the lines snakedaround the whole area. Id spend 15 or 20minutes on each one, for $15 a portrait,and I got to keep half of that.

Thus bankrolled, Elliott set off for theUniversity of Kansas, where she honedher art and graphic design skills and alsodeveloped a lasting love for photogra-phy. Her aptitude for accurate, lifelike,

Crema Pastelera, oil, 48 x 36.


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just at the time her freelance career waswaning. I was lucky, she says, that my

interest in fine art dovetailed with theend of my commercial work.

Luck, too, led her to the next big transi-tion. Living in the Dallas suburbs, I hadbecome visually immune to my surround-ings, she says. One day in 2005, however,something out of the ordinary caught hereye right there amidst the tract housesand power lines: a small pasture wherelonghorn cattle grazed.

Despite the imposing grandeur of theirsharply pointed horns, Texas longhorncattle are generally gentle and placid.Soon, Elliott was spending as much time

as she could spare getting up close andpersonal with the bovines, sketchingand photographing them. Her first por-traits of longhorns, often dramaticallypositioned against stormy skies, soonfollowed. The paintings almost immedi-ately grabbed the attention of galleriesand collectors alike.

With her fine art career soaring andher daughter grown, Elliott and her

izing in fashion illustrations for womenswear retailers. She also married Pete

Czarnecki, a medical supplies salesman,and the couple had a daughter, Emma,now 22 years old.

In whatever spare time freelancing andmotherhood allowed, Elliott continuedto pursue her passion for fine art. In-spired by the gentle, evocative works ofgreat American il lustrators Bernie Fuchs,Bart Forbes, and Robert Heindel, she be-gan to work in watercolors, doing mostlyportraits of people and some fashion-inspired compositions.

Then, in 1998, Elliott started to workin oils. The transition happened at least

in part because of what she describes asan obsession she had with the richly at-mospheric landscapes of New York-basedpainter April Gornick. It was a really hotsummer in Texas, Elliott explains, andI just felt starved for moisture, and shedoes these huge landscapes that look liketheres always moisture in the air.

Thus inspired, Elliott, too, began topaint her own large-scale landscapes,

and perceptive drawing gained so muchrecognition that the art department even

recommended her to the local police sta-tion, where she worked for a time as aforensic sketch artist, helping detectivesnab some dangerous criminals.

I think that with my intuition plus myskills and experience, I just figured outhow to do it, she muses about that suc-cess. I knew exactly the questions to ask:about the hair, the nose, the mouth, thejawline, the size of the forehead, whetherthe eyes were close-set or wide-set. Sheeven considered becoming a courtroomsketch artist.

Instead, she headed for Texas after

graduation. Id heard the job marketwas good in Dallas, and that appealedto me because Id always loved the timeId spent on my grandfathers farm.Alas, her grandfather soon sold the farm,which was heartbreaking to me, andbooming Dallas turned out to be just an-other city.

Nevertheless, she soon had a thrivingcareer as a freelance illustrator, special-

Blue Roan, oil, 36 x 48.


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goal, pretty much, will be to show howinterconnected we really are.F

Norman Kolpas is a Los Angeles-based freelancer

who writes for Mountain Livingand Colorado Homes

& Lifestylesas well as Southwest Art.

This content has been abridged from an original article written by Norman Kolpas. F+W. All rightsreserved. F+W grants permission for any or all pages in this premium to be copied for personal use.

Wyoming Paintbrush, oil, 48 x 36.

Reata, oil, 40 x 30.

Christoval, oil, 30 x 30.

husband moved a year ago to the morerural surroundings she had long yearnedfor, in the foothills of the Davis Moun-tains near the West Texas town of Al-pine. There, working pretty much fromdawn to dusk seven days a weekIma workaholic, she admitsElliott putstogether the basics of her compositionson her computer using Photoshop, work-ing both from scans of sketches and fromphotographs shes taken of the Dallas-

area herd. Once shes worked out anidea, shell print it out and move out-doors to the easel she has set up on asheltered patio.

Next, Elliott sketches the composi-tion freehand in charcoal pencil onto acanvas, which varies from the occasional12-by-12-inch painting to, more typi-cally, large-scale pieces, some as big as 4by 5 feet. Then comes a thin turpentine

wash of burnt umber andultramarine blue to block inthe shapes before she startspainstakingly capturing thereality of the subject andscene. For the larger pieces,the entire process can take aslong as three weeks, which isall the better for her. I liketo work large, she says, be-cause then I feel closer to my

subject.That feeling of close in-

timacy, in turn, invariablytransfers to those who be-hold her paintings. And the artist aspiresto make those connections even strongerin the future. My idea is somehow toget human figures in the paintings withthe longhorns. I want to keep it pure,simple, nothing like rodeo scenes. The


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Friendly CreaturesMelissa J. Cooper deftly captures the spirit and

personality of the animals she sculpts

B Y G U S S I E F A U N T L E R O Y

TEN YEARS SPENT working in afoundry as a young woman did not in-cline Melissa J. Cooper toward becom-ing a sculptor. Starting at age 17, Cooperlearned and performed virtually all thesweaty, labor-intensive steps involved incasting bronze at a Loveland, CO, found-ry. She was assisting her father, sculp-tor Robert Larum, whose renderings ofArabian horses were selling so well that

Cooper with a piece called At Waters Edge, bronze, 54 x 72.Scout, bronze, 8 x 7.

he couldnt keep up with demand with-out some help. But not once during thoseyears did Cooper pick up a chunk of waxor clay and ponder creating her own littlework of art.

It was not a pleasurable job. Foundrywork is hard work and really dirty. I nev-er thought I would do sculpture on myown, because I knew what it entailed,Cooper relates, thinking back on those

years as she sits in her spacious studioin Littleton, CO, in the Rocky Mountainfoothills just south of Denver.

But what she didnt know, as she pre-pared her fathers art for bronze pouringor welded sections of metal, was howmuch fun the actual sculpting part was.She didnt realize how much she wouldenjoy using her hands and her imagina-tion to shape a compelling form. When


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Morning Companions, bronze, 10 x 13.

Im in the studio sculpting, I love it. I havethe best job in the world, she proclaims,adding that she remains involved in vir-tually every aspect of the bronze process.Now I thrive on it. When its your ownart, its completely different.

Despite the grime and hard work, thoseyears at the foundry were worth it, the49-year-old, award-winning artist ac-knowledges. They gave her an invaluableeducation in working in bronze from thebottom up. As a result, she can visualize acomplex three-dimensional design (with-

out drawing it on paper), calculate thenecessary structural strength and the in-terrelations of its various parts, and bringit to realityin many cases without everhaving seen how the artwork will look asa whole.

In her bird-and-vessel series, for ex-ample, the vessel, birds, and botanicalelements are often sculpted separatelyin clay. The sections dont become a sin-

gle form until theyve been produced inbronze and the artist welds them togetherand finishes the piece. Its a way of creat-ing made possible by a keen visual imagi-nation, an intimate understanding of themedium in which she sculpts, and thoseyears of experience in the numerous stepsthat lead from clay to bronze. Cooper alsocreates wildlife art (from 5-inch to monu-mental scale) depicting such creatures asrabbits, beavers, chipmunks, and bearsanimals known for their combination ofgraceful shapes and, as the artist puts it,

fluffy and robust charm.

WELL BEFORE she began helping herfather at the foundry, Cooper was steepedin the parallel worlds of nature and fineart. She grew up on an 18-acre parcel ofland not far from where she now lives,with a cottonwood-shaded creek andsmall ponds for her playground and plen-ty of room to ride her horse. Her mothers

field glasses were always on a windowledge for bird spotting. Deer, coyotes,foxes, and porcupines were among theanimal visitors the family often observed.

On the creative side of the equation,Coopers mother, Mary Jo Larum, was(and is) an artist doing china paintingin elaborate floral styles. Larum taughtchina painting three days a week in herhome when Cooper was a girl. Exposedto the fundamentals of composition, col-or, and form, the sculptors earliest artis-tic expression was painting on porcelain

and, later, decorative painting on wood.My mother was a huge influence, shenotes. That was my introduction, really,to fine art. A lot of people dont considerchina painting fine art, but it is.

Coopers father, who immigrated toColorado from Norway at age 16, workedas a brick and stone mason until he fellfrom a scaffold and broke his leg. Alwaysdeft with his hands and brimming with


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creative energy, he took the unplannedopportunity to teach himself to sculpt.His first works were Viking busts, in hon-or of his homeland, but he soon turned toArabian horses. That was my introduc-tion to three-dimensional art, recallsCooper, who was a young teen when her

father began to sculpt.Soon she was recruited to work along-

side Larum as he produced his pieces atArt Castings of Colorado, a foundry inLoveland where then-owner Bob Zim-merman generously gave the pair freereign of the facility. They were offered asmall room for metal chasing, and Coopertook over the welding equipment whilethe foundry employees were at lunch. An-other remarkable aspect of working therewas being introduced to some of the

Sticks and Stones, bronze, 9 x 22.

Wests most acclaimed sculptorssuchas Gerald Balciar, Glenna Goodacre, andDan Ostermillerwho at the time werejust starting out. I saw all their worksand could appreciate them, she says.

Yet it wasnt until she left the foundryat age 27, after getting married and giving

birth to her daughter, that Cooper creat-ed her first sculpture. It was a Christmasgift for her father, a square-sided vaseadorned with bas-relief flowers, whichshe cast in bronze. After that, I washooked, she remembers. It was such anew creative release. She took a sculpt-ing class with Balciar at the Art StudentsLeague of Denver. There, in a 20-minutequick draw type of exercise, she used aphotograph as reference to sculpt a chip-munk, her first animal piece.

Today Cooper consults her own exten-sive library of art and wildlife books asreference material. The Internet has alsobecome a useful resource for inspirationand ideas, as is time spent outdoors onmountain trails. The sculptor shares herlarge studio and workshop with her fa-

ther, and the two provide friendly cri-tiques of each others art.

On her sculpting table at the momentis a bird-and-vessel piece: seven blue-birds with an oval-shaped basket. In allof Coopers work in this series, the ves-sels, branches, and floral forms providean opportunity to incorporate delicatelycurving, contemporary, and geometricforms that contrast with her fat andfluffy birds. She considers the gracefulbotanical designsand the fact that the


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my lifetime I can fulfill them. Theresso much beauty weve been given. If Icould capture just a smidgeon of it, thatwould be awesome. She pauses, a hintof tearful joy in her voice. I have theperfect situation, and Ive been given

Heron Basin, bronze, 32 x 21.

vessels are always functionalas influ-ence from her mother, while her love ofcute and cuddly no doubt derives at leastin part from an animal that shares theartists home: a Netherland Dwarf rabbitnamed Sammie. Sammie inspired one ofCoopers most popular works, LILY,a life-

sized bronze bunny.While Cooper describes her wild-

life figures as fluffy, much of the surfaceof her work, in fact, is smooth. The im-pression of a furry or feathery texture isachieved in part through distinctive mar-bleized patinas created by master patinaartist Patrick Kipper, with whom Cooperhas worked for many years. Patinas, notpaint, also provide the vivid colors onsome of her animals, especially birds. Hedoes the research, mixes his own chemi-cals, makes his own recipes, the sculptor

says of Kipper. Hes the best.Cooper uses an impressionistic stylefor a creatures body, but when it comesto the face, detail is key to infusing theanimal with spirit and personality. I tryto capture the essence of their beauty,she explains. The face is where I wantthe detail to be. It can even be just thelip on a beargrizzly bears have poutylips. Or the eyebrows. If the eyebrowsare high, the animal looks sharper andalert; if theyre lower, the animal looksquiet. In photographs of wildlife, some-thing will catch my attentionthe cock

of a head or the position of a body. Some-times Ill put two pictures together andmake it my own.

As soon as springtime warms up thefoothills and the wildlife starts emerg-ing from hibernation and frequentingmeadows and woods, Cooper is out-side as much as possible, hiking withher husband or tending to another ofher passions, her flower gardens. Beingoutdoors, of course, triggers more in-spiration for her art. Even just walkingoutside and seeing birds at the feeder,its like a switch flips on inside me that

says, Ive got to capture that! she ob-serves, smiling.

Her smile remains as she notes howthe three things most important inher lifefaith, family, and artareclosely intertwined. Looking back onall the opportunities Ive had, I would-nt have had them without what theLord did for me, she reflects. I haveso many ideas for my art, I just hope in

huge gifts. It touches my heart. F

Santa Fe-based Gussie Fauntleroy also writes for Art

& Antiques, New Mexico Magazine, Native Peoples,

and the Santa Fean.

Wildlife Art Collection

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