A good friend told me that he would have responded to my blogs but “they were too deep”.  I know it’s been a while since I have discussed my work and my feelings but my point of view is sincere.  And, as an artist, I try to make my point of view inspiring and thought provoking.  But, it is just my point of view and it is not meant to be condescending or above any other.  Painting is like music, dance, or any other artistic form, the soulful response is the emotion that we all take from it.  Art is meant to entertain our spirit on all levels of emotion determined by our individual reality, a reality that our own life is shaping for each one of us.

So talk to me about “The Sound Of Yesterday”.  How does the title make you feel? What is your emotional response to its subtle structure that is taken over by the chaotic movement of paint?  My feelings that directed the piece may reflect differently than yours but that is what is suppose to happen as each of us follow our own journey.

Let’s spark a conversation.

Hilario loves to paint! His passion for creating his art keeps him in the studio 5 to 6 days a week. This means there is always something new to look at. What you see here is Hilario’s most recently completed work.

Besides creating the work itself, what does it take for Hilario to add a new piece of work to his website?

A new work starts, of course with Hilario’s inspiration and vision.  A fleeting emotion, a flash of insight, memories, even a dream has inspired Hilario. Most often a vision includes a story and a title for a new work.  Then a color palette and layout begins to take shape…is the new piece small? large? is it a single piece or a multiple piece?  What colors best express the vision?

When Hilario feels his vision is ready, he builds a frame. He uses wood and hardboard with canvas stretched over it because the piece and his easel are one and the same. Then he preps the canvas, mixes his paint (always acrylic!) and gets to work putting the vision in his head onto the canvas.

When he feels that he has captured his vision, he is done painting but not done with the painting. He removes any prep material, wires the frame for hanging then creates a digital image of the new work. Lastly, he titles and signs the work.

Now, it is a new work ready to be viewed and experienced.

Hilario makes his home in the foothills of the Superstition Mountains. This is a deliberate choice. The Sonoran Desert that he so loves flourishes here because of the altitude and the little extra rain that falls, caught by the nearby mountain peaks. He calls it a really good day when he can hike the foothills, enjoy the sights and smells of his desert home, and gather inspiration for his art.

In just a few minutes from his house, Hilario is at a trailhead for one his most favorite hikes…the Hieroglyphics Trail. The trail winds upward on the south face of the mountains for nearly two miles into magical Hieroglyphics Canyon. (Visit the Superstition Wilderness webpage.) The canyon slices into the side of the mountains, dropping sharply from north to south.  Giant boulders lie piled atop one another up the sides of the steep walls. And, at the bottom of this canyon is that rarest and most precious desert commodity…water. Water from storm runoff and deep rock springs cascades down the canyon in a series of falls from pool to pool until finally it drops into a stream bed and flows out of the canyon and into the desert below. But that’s not the best part.

The steep rock walls of the canyon near the falls and pools are covered with Native American petroglyphs. Pioneer explorers in the late 19th century confused the petroglyphs with Egyptian hieroglyphics and the name has stuck. Some images are obviously snakes and animals but other images are difficult to interpret. It is clear, however, that water has rushed through this canyon for millennia.

Hilario hiked the Hieroglyphic Trail on a cool winter’s day after a recent heavy rain. The water was roaring down the canyon, clearly audible before it was visible from the trail. It was a good day.

The other day I was asked how I find my inspiration.  So, even though I talk about this in my book, I told a story.

Three brushes were in a can talking to each other on who was the best artist.   One argued that it used the boldest colors, the next shouted “my canvases are the largest” and the other was sure it was the greatest because no one understood its work.  Suddenly a hand reached into the can and grabbed a brush. As the brush left the can it shouted “now let me show you why I’m the best!”

In my opinion, all artists are “brushes”. Inspiration does not begin with an “I”, but is passed though one into the art.  Like the brushes who each thought it was the best, not one of them considered that they were merely part of the equation. 

Now, I’m not diminishing education, history, or personal experiences. I am merely suggesting that, as an artist, I consider that we all are a thread in the fabric of a grand theme. You can read more about this in my book “Chaos On The Canvas – The Art of Hilario”.

I have a confession to make… recently I went through artist “block”.  I was shifting from one style to another, but nothing was evolving.  After struggling, I stopped and examined just what was happening.

For me, my work as an abstract artist evolves from an experienced emotion.  Before I start a new work the story, emotion and meaning to the work must be revealed to me before I can continue. Every once in a while my enthusiasm gets ahead of everything I need to experience.  What I had to do was find the relationship from one emotion to the other, like the climate changing from the mountaintop to the desert. Once I found that emotional shift, my creativity returned and new work emerged.

Take a look at some of my newest work and see what I mean.

Newcomers to the Sonoran Desert often lament that there is no season change, that the only difference is a cooler night in the winter. But, if you have lived and loved this desert as much as I have, the subtle changes are monumental. The white intense light of summer is replaced with a softer grayer hue. The lower arc of the sun casts shadows of purple, revealing the land in a whole new profile. The winter rains bring into bloom the yellows, whites and lavenders of the desert flowers. And a soft, vivid green blanket of grass covers the desert floor.

Winter in the desert fills me with emotion and renews my vision. The changing light influences the color palette that leaves my brush. I build a story around this season and the result I present in my work. Tell me what you think. Do you feel the light in this desert’s winter?

Today my wife and I attended the 2nd annual American Indian Music Fest held at the Casa Grande National Monument in south central Arizona. The event offered two days of music by incredible flautists representing Indian nations from all over the United States and Canada. The musicians played outdoors next to the “Big House” or Casa Grande ruins. It was an incredible venue and an incredible experience.

As I listened to the music I began to realize that the melodies painted a vision of image and color in my mind’s eye as if I could see what the music was feeling. My paintings can do much the same thing. The movement and frequency of paint stir an emotion of place and time. That which one has experienced can come back by just entering the atmosphere of a painting. 

Look at my art and see if it can find you in such a place.

The Four Corners region of the American Southwest is home to the Diné Bikéyah or Navajo Nation. This vast land of more than 26,000 thousand acres covers parts of northeastern Arizona, southeastern Utah and northwestern New Mexico. It offers endless inspiration to Hilario.

Hilario’s daughter-in-law is Navajo and spent her childhood in this windswept land raising sheep with her family, the Keams of the Bitterwater Clan. Visit the Keams Family website. She has taken Hilario to visit some of the places she lived with her family. One such special place is Winter Camp.

It was once common practice to move a sheep herd to different areas depending on the season. The Keams’ winter camp offered some protection from the cold harsh winters on the Colorado Plateau. This place lies somewhat southwest of Gray Mountain on a south facing slope to catch the winter’s sun. Nowadays, the Keams family no longer herds sheep and this place lies deserted but not empty.

Grasses, shrubs and the pinon pine thrive here, full of the busy red ant. Cattle roam the green hills. The vast sky soars over vistas of rolling plains washing up to the feet of long-asleep volcanoes. The only sound is the wind wafting across the grass. It is a magical place.

Hilario last visited Winter Camp in the summer of 2007. Monsoon clouds, heavy with moisture, piled up to the south. The wind blew and the smell of rain and lightning filled the air.

What would you think if I called myself Sir Hilario, King of Art? It would be ridiculous because it means absolutely nothing. So why do some artists throw a name onto a finished piece of art without it belonging to the work? I find that a name or title expresses the feeling of authority of that which is presented. So the name given to a work of art should be coming from what it is being presented.

For me, art and title are one. My title doesn’t go to the piece of art, it comes from it. Before I start a painting or sculpture I begin with an idea and give it life by weaving it into a story or memory. It may be no more than a sentence or as long as a paragraph. From this my connection to the work reveals to me the feeling of its outcome.

Here’s my process. My thought into story, from the story I begin to feel what is needed to create the art. I let that feeling determine the process that reveals the abstract image. The abstract image is named before it is completed because the name comes from the art, not a name given to it. For my work, the title is a preface to the beholder to begin their relationship to the art. It is that first connection the artist and the beholder share.

So read each of the titles of my work and consider the relationship from title to artist to beholder. Then leave me a comment with your thoughts on this; I would like to know what you think.

My art is a conduit to connect your emotions and feelings to what you are observing. Let me explain, you, the beholder, completes the reason for the art to be art. It is always about the beholder not the artist. My artistic talent is second to the emotional stir that fills your heart when you observe my art. I’m not expecting everyone to accept my work, life isn’t like that. But what I will demand is to dig deep into your emotional locker and find truth to what we might share. Let my art do what it’s meant to do; stir the human connection that we all share.

So don’t start a question without first making it about you. Please don’t ask about my inspiration or what my favorite colors are until you open yourself to this conversation. Am I sounding arrogant?…it doesn’t matter. But think deeper; any conversation isn’t about me or my art, it’s about you.

Hilario working his studio.

You will eventually learn the simpler questions that may never come up while we are sharing an emotional connection. But, the atmosphere of my art will bring to the surface your memories and hidden emotions. Now, this may all seem like nonsense at first, but again, dig deeper. Talk to me through the art and let’s make it about you.

I send out my invitation to all to explore my entire website. Add yourself to the continuing exploration of understanding that you are part of the next question. See you in the word.