D e s e r t E x p o s u r e
April
2008
Dynamic Duo
Creative couple Penny and John Duncklee find inspiration in and around Las Cruces — and from each other.
By Jeff Berg
You would think that artist Penny Duncklee and writer John Duncklee had been together for a lot longer than 20 years.
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Las Cruces writer John Duncklee
and painter Penny Duncklee. (Photo by Lisa D. Fryxell) |
Penny Duncklee's work at this time is mostly watercolor — like the cover of this month's Desert Exposure — but whenever she is out and about, a camera is omnipresent. In the past, she also did a lot of pottery, but has put that aside for now. A vivacious, lively and optimistic person, she is a perfect balance for John's gently curmudgeonly and less-optimistic personality, which includes a disdain for many things political.
Penny has a degree in music from Duke University, but has never really used it, preferring to put what she creates on paper. Her credits include participation in 13 national and international juried exhibitions, at least 16 regional exhibitions, three one-woman shows, and five awards for her work — all of these just since the year 2000.
John's books, mostly fiction, cover the gamut from nonfiction to novella to the recent Bull by the Tale, a collection of short stories published in 2006 by the University of New Mexico Press. In addition to his books John has had numerous short stories, articles and poems published; he has also been a newspaper columnist. Tall and gravelly voiced, with a full beard and the look of a long-time cowboy, a previous occupation, John Duncklee hardly looks like somebody who hails from New York.
"I moved to Arizona at age 12 from Larchmont, New York," he admits.
Penny pipes in that she started drawing in the 7th grade. "I never took an art class, except for one art history class that I took by mistake," she says. "Each of my pictures shows that I am trying to learn something, and I like that I can do erasing when working with watercolor."
John continues on with a story of how he came to carry off Penny's heart while both were living in Tubac, Ariz., an art-heavy village about an hour south of Tucson. They eventually "outgrew" Tubac, as John puts it, and moved briefly to Oracle, Ariz., just north of Tucson, before coming to Las Cruces in 2001.
Back and forth the story goes between them, as they share strikingly similar memories of how they first met, followed by a brief courtship, including a romantic picnic, and the years since then.
They have so much to share and so many interesting stories to tell, that they both remind one another that we are here to talk about their art — at least a little bit.
In an essay that Penny has written, entitled "Becoming Me," she notes that her life changed after moving to Arizona from Ohio. "I became a potter who produced high-fired, wheel-thrown, one-of-a-kind and custom-made stoneware. No longer was I 'just a housewife' with a camera, drawing pad and paint set."
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"Favorite Things," a
painting by Penny, includes a mini-portrait of husband John. |
She then notes that this created what she calls a "two-fold quandary" — should she photograph a subject or make a painting? Time and immediate changes in the scene she is captured by make this a hard decision. Things such as movement of the sun or a contrail from a plane can change the "look" in an instant.
Solution? Do both. "I have realized as a painter that I can ignore the contrail and paint the beauty of the moment, even enhancing the rich colors or increase the contrast between mountain and sky."
Penny says that she can use her camera to capture moments of sunset to remember, "even if there is a blemish in the sky." That photo can then be used to refresh her "feelings of reverence or amazement," and then she can paint that moment in the way "it could be rather than the way it is."
Inspiration for John comes in other ways. He's currently on a poetry kick, one of which ("El Corrido de Antonio Beltran") recently won him the Western Writers of America Spur Award for poetry. But he finds that subjects for writing about in Las Cruces at this time feel flat. "I'm just not inspired to write about anything right now, novel-wise."
His mind races in many directions as the subject of inspiration temporarily fades, and he starts to share brief tales of his life and adventures, first talking about being a cowboy and riding horses everywhere he went. "It's against the principles of a cowboy to walk anywhere," John explains.
A few seconds of silence.
"We never walked anywhere," he adds as he hands over the latest issue of Roundup, the official publication of the Western Writers of America. Stabbing a finger at the cover, John points out his article, "Realizing Changes in Landscape," while Penny proudly notes that the cover art sprang from her paints and brushes.
The writing complements the painting, and vice versa.
But enough about that, and John is now sharing how he once saw the Hindenburg, the famed zeppelin, as it flew over his school, how he once walked home in a hurricane to a surprised mother who asked, "What are you doing here?" upon his arrival, and how he cooks dinner and Penny cooks breakfast.
John notes the start of his freelance-writing career in his whimsical, detailed and probably too brief autobiography, I Bit the Silver Spoon. After he moved to Tucson in September 1973, the Christian Science Monitor (John eschews organized religion, by the way) bought his article about the San Francisco Peaks. These mountains north of Flagstaff, Ariz., periodically make it into the news even now, due to their importance to local American Indian cultures who do battle with Anglos who want to put more signal towers and ski areas on the mountains.
John acknowledges his giddiness upon the publication of the article. He shared the piece with friend "Doc" Sonichsen, then editor of the Journal of Arizona History.
After reading the piece, Sonichsen noted John's gift for writing, but sagely suggested, "Don't give up your day job."
John replied, "Hell's fire, Doc, I already have!"
"Better get another," the wise editor said.
John did get a job as commissioned salesman. But that didn't last forever, and John's talents and heart went full-time into his writing. His works went on to include several volumes of biographical nonfiction (Coyotes I Have Known being a favorite title) and numerous novels including the aptly titled Disowned.
With his trademark temperate gruffness, and after a brief rant about the current political situation in this country, John decides to state what just now became obvious: "I'm a free agent now. I don't work with people and I don't like people telling me what to do."
This, of course, excludes his beloved wife, who has been touching his forearm lightly during this morning-long interview. Penny smiles knowingly before describing her day, which will lead her from the coffee that John serves her in bed, while she ponders "what counts" for the upcoming day. It could be a brief period of painting for her, before becoming distracted by a waiting household chore "like 30 seconds of potty washing," leading back to shooting a photo, and then a pause to watch the nearby freight train rumble by. And that could lead, at the right time of day, to a look at the sky to watch a hot-air balloon pass over the couple's 3,000-squre-foot remodeled and homey-feeling genuine adobe hacienda.
It's time to go, but not before a few more brief anecdotes from John, a few more beautifully rendered memories from Penny, and a copy of John's latest poem, entitled "Soledad Canyon."
The canyon is located at the foot of the Organ Mountains, and the Duncklees often head to Soledad for respite, beauty and exercise.
Scattered about the hacienda walls are several of Penny's sharply detailed paintings, which may have come from her observations of this unique and not-well-known spot. John sees the canyon much differently, as developers have started to encroach upon the natural and pristine beauty of the area.
As John's poem puts it:
"Past the jungle of rich men's castles
The canyon's mouth opens to the mountain's soul
Canyon walls covered with grasses
Some shrubs here and there. . ."
The poem goes on to list the things that might have happened here, back when the area was used as grazing land and once offered a sort of natural corral for livestock.
He concludes this short work with lines of optimism:
"Soledad means loneliness or isolated place
But one cannot be lonely here
Unless one is lonely with oneself."
Soledad Canyon, like John and Penny Duncklee, is at peace.
Penny Duncklee's paintings can be viewed at her Web site, www.pennyduncklee.com, and at these upcoming events: Southern Chapter of the New Mexico Watercolor Society show at the Branigan Cultural Center in Las Cruces, April 4-28; exhibit at Deming Arts Council, corner of Gold and Pine, Deming, April 6-28; demonstration at El Paso Arts Association, May 18.