Maynard Dixon Makes Me Cry …
… and makes me weep and sob and collapse in a puddle of tearful ecstasy.
Jeff and I spent a blissful afternoon at the Maynard Dixon exhibit, Sagebrush and Solitude, at the Nevada Museum of Art in Reno just a few weeks before it closed at the end of July 2024. He's my favorite artist, especially for his interpretation of the American West.
One of the paintings there, Wild Horses of Nevada, shows his turn toward Modernism in his later years. Many of his Modernistic paintings became his most popular, or at least the ones we tend to see most often. They are accurate in their forms and the muted colors of the West, but become edgier once all the details of rock faces, trees, and sagebrush are removed. Because of those paintings, I was drawn to anything painted by Maynard Dixon.
In 1901, he and fellow artist, Edward Borein, set out on an epic journey to record the Great Basin on canvas and paper. This exhibit included several dozen oils and pencil drawings as well as periodicals he had illustrated. The influence of his western wanderings is highlighted in these magazine covers and brochures. According to an article about this exhibit in Cowboys and Indians magazine, Dixon's many forays into the Great Basin landscapes developed his modernist development in later works when he also traveled the Southwest.
What sends me heavenward, however, is how he depicts the Great Basin. He captured the hazy light of afternoon sun. His shadows carve the mountains into serpentine forms that emphasize how water and wind shaped them. At sunset, as the sunlight glows brightly above the ridgeline, the mountains become a stark silhouette, without detail or perspective. It's stunning when seen in person, but to see how Dixon revealed it on canvas takes my breath away.
What is it about the desert that brings out an artist's most powerful insights and revelations. When I finished seeing Dixon's exhibit, I didn't want to do anything else but write this down as quickly as possible before I lost the impact. (It's a long drive home.) Only one other time has such a religious feeling overtaken me. Upon exiting the Georgia O'Keeffe Museum in Santa Fe, I sat in the shady walled garden. I couldn't talk nor did I want to. I wanted to hold on to the euphoria for as long as possible.
Maynard Dixon gave me that feeling again, and I wondered if, somehow, a bit of his spiritual essence remained in those paintings, embedded in the oils and canvas. He lingered somewhere in those museum rooms, watching us all gaze at his legacy for lengthy bits of time. People moved slowly, speaking barely above a whisper if at all. Jeff and I parted to view the paintings at our own pace, so I was alone to be pulled into each depiction of the vast landscapes just beyond my backdoor. We have viewed these same places in the flesh, so to speak. We have tasted the breeze, heard its murmuring through the brush, and seen that dusty shimmer of the Great Basin light that Maynard Dixon captured so incredibly well.
Here’s my attempt to photograph Northwest from Pine Forest Ridge, a painting that especially brought tears when I saw it. Yes, I know, it’s difficult to convey strong feelings through a pathetic photograph, but perhaps you can see how Dixon portrayed the Great Basin’s light and vast distances in this painting. Also note the \ Modernistic style with its lack of details and stark shadows. The Great Basin actually looks like this under its hazy, shimmering light, but Dixon nails it like no other artist.
For an excellent article about this exhibit and its story, chec out Cowboy and Indians, Must-See Exhibition: Sagebrush and Solitude: Maynard Dixon in Nevada, by Dana Joseph, May 8, 2024.
Gosh, thank you so much for sharing these words and pictures, Sue. I've set an intention to learn more about US art and artists having seen this.
Thanks for highlighting Dixon's expressive work. I'm going to make it a point to learn more about his art.