Grin and Bear It
From comical critters to mystical sculptures, Barbara Jorgen Nance's work reflects her path through life.
By Donna Clayton Lawder
To take in the work of Barbara Jorgen Nance is to touch the wild, the wonderful and the at-times hysterical — all at once. Over here, drink in the holy beauty of flowers; over there, sit at the feet of angels; in between, find humorous critters peeking out from every corner. Just as her subject matter varies widely, Nance also creates in several mediums — sculpture, oil paint and watercolors.
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Barbara Jorgen Nance with a sampling of her work.
(Photo by Donna Clayton Lawder). |
Nance was a successful illustrator and cartoonist for 21 years in Los Angeles, her work represented in several coastal galleries. "I was in some pretty distinguished collections in California," she says, noting that country musician Buck Owens and "Tonight Show" bandleader Doc Severinson were among her collectors.
In late 2005, however, she and her husband Sherwood moved to Silver City to start a new life. "We had bought property on an earlier trip and planned to move here in about 10 years," she explains. But, following a gut feeling, the two decided to "take a chance," she says, and make the move to Silver City sooner rather than later. They had a home built, and though the sale of their West Coast home fell through three times, they eventually made the move to the Southwest, to the town they'd fallen in love with for its friendliness, quirkiness and strong art vibes.
This month's Desert Exposure cover artist, Nance calls herself "self-taught" as an artist. "Well, I did take a class to learn how to prepare a canvas properly," she says, but then confesses with a laugh that her brother tells her she still doesn't do it right. "I'm glad I'm self-taught," she adds. "I've been able to develop my own style completely."
She got her professional start in art at an early age. Her mother got her a job painting ads on card tables for Ohio-based Mayco Colors, "the Cadillac of ceramic glazes and stains," Nance says. "I made enough money to buy my first car. . . . I made manager by age 21." From that successful beginning, she went on to start her own company, freelancing cartoons and illustrations.
A large sampling of her previous work is spread on an island countertop in her open kitchen: book covers, cookbooks, posters, brochures and even wine-bottle labels for the Bridlewood Winery in Santa Ynez. Among the posters is one for this year's annual Ice Cream Social at the Silver City Museum, which will host an exhibit of Nance's work in October.
In California, Nance was best known as a painter for her animal themes, especially her whimsical bears. "This one is 'Bear-B-Q,'" she says, gesturing to a large painting on her living room wall. In it, a large brown bear rendered in her trademark style raises a glass of red wine. He leans on a stump, adorned with a tattered Forest Service poster with Smokey the Bear's likeness, while a fish roasts on a spit over the bear's campfire. The label on the wine bottle, with the logo of a small bear, identifies it as "Red Griesling," a play on "grizzly" and "Riesling."
"There are 16 bears in all of my bear paintings," Nance says, and begins pointing them out. Some — like the Smokey the Bear and wine-bottle grizzly — are obvious. But more subtle bear images are hidden in the rocks of the streambed, in a star, in the tufts of grass and on a pottery bowl at the big bear's feet. "Spirit bears," Nance calls them.
"A shamanic person told me that the number 16 represents wholeness," she says. "I counted up the bears in one of my paintings and realized there were 16 of them in there." Since then, she says, she's always taken care to make sure each painting holds 16 bears in one form or another.
The bear is a significant symbol for Nance. "It's my totem. They've entered my dreams," she says. "I've been in bear caves in a lot of my dreams. They're always benevolent bears, healing bears."
She tells the story of the real black bear, mounted on the wall above her TV set. She negotiated with a taxidermist to stuff and mount it in a specific way, allowing her to put special medicine bags of herbs and other sacred, symbolic offerings into the bear's body cavity, to "help heal the energy" of the circumstances surrounding its death.
In addition to painting bears and other critters — horses, javelinas — in comical situations, Nance depicts animals in a mystical light — what she calls her "messenger bears" and "sky horses." In one richly hued watercolor, "Brothers on the Path of Life," one bear faces the viewer while another faces toward him, raising a paw in a communicative gesture. Deep purples and blues enhance their coats, bringing a mystical feel beyond realism. Her "sky horses" have the simple lines of ancient cave paintings or perhaps petroglyphs, the spare, eloquent equines seeming to float on the wind.
Nance's artwork peeks out from every corner of her open, airy home. Shelf units and pedestals hold her sculptures and the walls are covered with paintings. She laughs as she opens the glass doors to a china cabinet.
"Some people keep dishes in these things," she says. Hers contains, instead, chunks of rock, carved stones and sculptures. She pulls a handful of photographs out of the cabinet, shuffles them, holds out one of her, broadly smiling, in front of an old red truck. Emblazoned on the side is the slogan "Got Rocks?" — a play on the "Got Milk?" ad campaign.
"We came across it out in the California desert," she says. "It was just out there. Sherwood had to get a picture of me with it." Picking up rocks large and small is something of a habit for her, she admits. "You find stuff all over, if you look, and you just never know what you might make out of it."
Much of Nance's sculpture to date is "woman-themed," she says. "I call them 'time walkers,'" she says of these somewhat ethereal characters with small, beautiful faces. She points out a sculpture called "Desert Sojourner," a red-brown piece, about a foot or so high. The woman's face has a broad nose, full lips and ancient eyes, giving her countenance a peaceful impression. Her curved body, draped in a multi-earth-toned robe, seems a mountain itself, as if her body arose naturally from the landscape. A small card next to the sculpture contains a poem by Nance. "The desert wind will tell you tales / of a barefoot woman made of stone," it begins.
"I just write 'em as I'm doing 'em," Nance says. "Their stories just come to me, and I make it part of the piece." This sculpture is made of "Picasso marble," she says, her favorite rock.
Nance's stones come from all over the country and from other parts of the world, as well. Another "time walker," a piece called "Desert Drifter," has its small, carved, red-brown face set into a piece of calcite from South America.
Still another is sculpted from "Chinese writing rock" from California. Its look, truly like Chinese characters written on the stone, derives from the rock's unique mix of feldspar and basalt. The image of a woman Nance has sculpted out of it is fittingly Asian in nature: spare and simple, the small, carved head adorned with a hair comb, the Chinese writing rock itself becoming an Asian gown draping the figure.
Nance also sculpts septarian nodules, a geode with a crystal-filled hollow interior. On one piece — the nodule split open and mounted on a black steel spike — she has inset a small, red-brown woman's face into the top rim of the sparkling cavity.
She brings over a rock ball, about five inches across, its light brown, bumpy exterior giving it the appearance of an unbaked lump of whole-wheat dough — another septarian nodule. "I'll break that one open, too, some day, to see what's inside it," she says. "Then I'll see what it wants to become."
Not all her sculptures are so elegant and laden with symbolism. Nance points out a more mundane subject — a BLT sandwich — humorously rendered in life-like detail. She identifies, one by one, the variety of different minerals that give the stone sandwich its realism and charm, right down to the black steatite olive affixed with a carved wooden toothpick. The banded onyx, with red-brown and white striations "makes perfect bacon, with some fat and all," she says. Sliced tomatoes are pieces of rare red onyx; the pieces of lettuce poking out are carved from slabs of pale green alabaster. White marble makes the bread.
"I was famous for my food in California," Nance says of the sculpture. "I had a whole series of that, and it sold like hotcakes, if you'll pardon the pun."
When she first arrived in town, Nance recalls, she held a "home show" in her new house, inviting people to view and perhaps purchase some of her work. "I got a lot of appointments out of that, and sold some work, too," she says. In addition to this fall's exhibit at the Silver City Museum, she says, "I hope I'll find the right gallery along the way." In the meantime she is planning another home show for the fall.
Nance talks about her newest work, a mixture of sublime and whimsical. She points out a couple of sculptures, glistening stone flowers of various shapes in a rainbow of subtle colors — buttery yellow, peach, creamy white. Their leaves, stems, stamens and pistils are fashioned out of separate stones, she points out, showing one such work in progress.
"I'm making them for the Great One, for God," she says. "To me, they are just such beautiful creations in nature, and I want to create these in stone, honoring their perfection and beauty."
She also is making more feminine forms, but this time, angels. The wings — composed of delicate, thin, gray stone — are kyanite. "It comes from South America, and this is its natural form."
And there is another bear-themed series: "bear boats," carved out of wood. In the fanciful creations, the bears seem to be riding in the small boats, their arms casually draped over the crafts' sides, while at the same time, becoming the boats.
"It's just another idea I had," Nance says. "And wood is a whole lot easier to carve than stone, I'll tell you!"
She laughs at the thought of coming up with a coherent "artist's statement" about why she creates the work she does, and the numerous and varied forms her art takes. Her creations have all in some way reflected her life, her way through life, she says.
"Sometimes I wake up and I think, 'Oh, there's a poem,' and I have to get up and go write it. Or I think, 'I have to paint that.'"
Nance laughs a good-natured laugh, shakes her head.
"I know, I've been told, I should pick one," she says, then adds with a smile and a shrug, "but I just can't!"
Barbara Jorgen Nance's work can be viewed by appointment at her home/gallery; call 534-0530 or email sherwoodnance@msn.com.
Donna Clayton Lawder is senior editor of Desert Exposure.