“Do you have hope for the future? Someone asked Robert Frost, toward the end. Yes, and even for the past, he replied”.
— David Ray, Thanks Robert Frost
Blue sky over Sangre de Cristo mountains with balloons near Taos, New Mexico
There is much more that can be said about Robert Frost’s hope for the future, and, in retrospect, the past. But for now consider that one way of re-kindling hope and perspective is to take a time apart from news and entertainment and open the wide door to imagination, the muse and uninterrupted time. Sometimes you have to go away from the world to enter more fully. Re-fueling and opening to what prompts us was our aim at the recent retreat in Taos, New Mexico. Time moves by another dial and is expanded by all the cross-pollination of ideas in the room. The work that comes has the aliveness of something discovered along the way.
Besides the bluest blue of sky, there is the aroma of black locust blossoms and sage in June. The desert is edged by the Santo de Cristo mountains to the east, and Pueblo land that has prevailed against invasion for over 2,000 years. Taos remains transparent to history and the earth, and time is still connected with the stars and moon. Dispensing with watches and phones, we entered a time before clocks. My senses come alive with the recognition of open vistas, and the welcome smell of rain in the desert. I have the feeling, however irrational, that there is a reciprocity, and the land also recognizes me.
For you food-lovers, here is a more detailed demo from our amazing chef at Mabel’s, Sophia, showing us how to make sopapillas and chili rellenos. We all agreed that no restaurant could compete with the fresh produce just pulled from the garden, everything from scratch and orally passed-down recipes.
Above: Sophia demonstrating the making of sopapillas and chili rellenos for our class
Back in the classroom, we played with words, the alphabet, and landscape. The students made abstract watercolor landscapes inspired by our place and imagination:
Below are a few examples (they are only about 4 inches or 10.16 cm square):
Abstract watercolor landscapes | © Deb Ellis
Abstract watercolor landscapes | © Louise Grunewald
Abstract watercolor landscapes | © Laura Bennett (left) © Heather Weaver (right)
Abstract watercolor landscapes | © Judythe Seick (left) | © Katie Barnes (right)
I am developing a geometric square alphabet inspired by the Berber peoples of North Africa, who used it during the first millennium BC. Initially there were no vowels. We discovered alternate forms, letters and ligatures. The book pages that follow are also in a square format.
Book covers: Handmade paper, Arches black cover, white gouache, acrylic and ink | Jun 2025 class
The spontaneity in the room is contagious, and cultivates singularity and delight in the work:
Book page | © Marcia Hocevar
Book page | © Ceci Sochorin (left) | Book page & cover (right) | © Paula McNamee
Book page: Collage, ink & china marker | © Cynthia Torp
Book page: Stitch, stamp, collage | © Katie Barnes
Book page & cover | Collage, ink & acrylic © Linda Elder
Front & back cover of book | Handmade paper, gel pen, fine point pen, walnut ink, white gouache, thread & acrylic | © Nancy Orr
Book cover (left) and abstract landscape (right) | Ink & watercolor © Roz Schneider
Writing with pine cone (left) | ink & acrylic | © Heather Weaver | Writing with a wide brush (right) | sumi & walnut ink, acrylic | © Eileen Boniecka
Book pages | Ink, collage and acrylic | © Cynthia Torp (left) © Eileen Boniecka (right)
Do you have hope for the future? Someone asked Robert Frost, toward the end. Yes, and even for the past, he replied. — David Ray, Thanks Robert Frost
Do you have hope for the future?
someone asked Robert Frost, toward the end.
Yes, and even for the past, he replied,
that it will turn out to have been all right
for what it was, something we can accept,
mistakes made by the selves we had to be,
not able to be, perhaps, what we wished,
or what looking back half the time it seems
we could so easily have been, or ought...
The future, yes, and even for the past,
that it will become something we can bear.
And I too, and my children, so I hope,
will recall as not too heavy the tug
of those albatrosses I sadly placed
upon their tender necks. Hope for the past,
yes, old Frost, your words provide that courage,
and it brings strange peace that itself passes
into past, easier to bear because
you said it, rather casually, as snow
went on falling in Vermont years ago.
Our featured artist this month is Kathleen Hayes Borkowski. The piece below calls to mind the contemporary Chinese calligrapher, Xu Bing and his “Landscripts”. See more of Kathleen’s work here:
