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A friend recently pointed out, “You have a career that has spanned over four decades!”

On the one hand, that’s an achievement. On another, it’s easy to look back, look at the present and look at the future and ask, “Now what?”

A recent movie line has a father telling his now-senior son, “How much time do you have to make memories?” Days slip by, housework is done, doctor appointments get checked off, gardens are started in the spring and put to bed in the fall, deadlines are met. The blog and newsletter get behind.

But I’m still making memories, and my husband and I can sit on the front patio in the evenings talking about the day, but also say, “Remember ___________?” 

As a long time aviation artist, it became fairly obvious when we settled in Idaho that there were fewer airplanes here than when we lived in Alaska. For almost 25 years, I painted the Coast Guard and the flying community in the wild north. What do we have in Idaho? Horses! I discovered the county fairgrounds, the saddle club, the rodeo- and the memory of the horse I rode as a young girl came flooding to the surface. 

How hard would it be to start riding again in my 70’s? They make great painting subjects, from the serene to the dynamic, but could I ride again?

The answer is a profound YES! 

I found a local ranch that offers riding lessons. A younger person has ambition, primarily to go fast and look cool. People my age just don’t want to fall off. After a couple of lesson horses that were wonderful, I fell in with Ryder, a sorrel mare in her teens with a personality to love. All the horses I met became painting subjects, but none so much as Ryder.

I photographed her head, her ears, her feet, her total conformation. I painted her standing, grazing, moving, eating carrots, begging for carrots. Her beauty as the sunlight bounced off her, her soft eyes, all became subject matter, even her warm breath in the cold winter air. 

I learned to trot and lope with her, and together we achieved milestones.

When she became pregnant and eventually went off to her owner’s ranch for maternity leave, I was lost. No horse could take her place, and eventually, I understand, after she has her foal and it is weaned, she’ll return to the barn. Another milestone in the making.

But in the meantime, a new horse to ride, lots more to photograph and paint, from the sassy Diva to old Joe to the elegant Arabian mare, Faith.

Many years ago, one of my favored watercolor artists, Nancy Taylor Stonington, offered the best advice I’ve ever received: Learn to draw, learn your medium, don’t give up.

She could also have included “learn your subject.” 

Time spent at the barn photographing and drawing can only enhance anatomical understanding. Having worked with watercolor for many years means learning how the pigment reacts with water, and which papers have the qualities for the end result. Lanaquarelle and Arches react differently. Weight of the paper makes a difference. All of these things come into play, and fall into Nancy Stonington’s advice to “learn your medium.” 

Increasing the skill level never goes away, but as the process becomes more comfortable- yet not taken for granted- the milestones and memories for riding or painting increase. It’s all good.

Ancora imparo- I am still learning.

Michelangelo