Cenizo Journal Summer 2014 | Page 18

T HE T REASURE OF S AN E LIZARIO : N ATIVE S ANDERSON A RTIST Story and photographs by David Stephens A lberto Escamilla is one of the leading impressionist painters in West Texas. He has paint- ings hanging in collections from New York to Austria to Japan. He is a long- time friend of Cormac McCarthy, the writer of The Road and No Country for Old Men, who is a collector of Escamilla’s work. McCarthy recently commissioned him to paint a portrait of Isaac Newton to hang in the Santa Fe Institute. In 2004 Escamilla was inducted into the El Paso Artist Hall of Fame. A few days before I met with him, he celebrated his 36th anniver- sary of being a professional artist and the fourth anniversary of opening his gallery in the historic art district of San Elizario, Texas. The El Paso painter was born in Sanderson, Texas. He dabbled in art during high school, but the six-foot- one Escamilla mostly focused on sports. After graduating in 1962, Escamilla’s options were limited: either work on the railroad or get a job as a laborer. Neither seemed appealing, so when one of his athletic coaches told him that the Texas Western basketball coach in El Paso had invited him to try out for the team, he accepted. He made the team, and walking from his dorm to the basketball gym he would always notice the art students drawing outside. One day he asked to join. “I didn’t even know art was some- thing you could study,” he says. He remembers walking through rooms full of easels, paints and empty canvases in awe. At the end of his freshman year, he left the basketball team for a spot in the art school. It wasn’t easy. Teachers would look at his early efforts and ask him if he had considered another major. It took time to develop a feeling for what he was doing. After graduating Escamilla postponed the artistic life. He spent several years abroad serving in the army. After his service he returned to El Paso for a job in advertising. Time was hard to come by. “I thought, okay, this is it. My artist’s life will be on the weekends,” he says. But the easels and 18 Cenizo colors kept calling, and in 1977 he quit his job to pursue painting full time. “That was very hard because you have a good job and you just quit,” Escamilla says. Not long after, he was calling up friends asking them to buy paintings so he could pay his rent. His work started to gain momentum when he met his current wife, Rachel, who also became his manag- er. With her help he was able to tap into higher eche- lons of the American art world, and secured some shows in New York where he caught the eye of collectors. He describes impressionism as experimentation of color. In true impressionist style, he likes subjects that give him an oppor- tunity to do just that. “My true love is the gardens,” he says, motioning to a compact painting bursting with multi- colored flora. It’s oddly coun- terintuitive. The West Texas deserts don’t seem imme- diately conducive to his desired sub- ject matter. When I asked him how the landscape affected his work, he point- ed to a famous painting of his called “A Trip to my Grandmother’s.” It is an Third Quarter 2014 example of his early, stripped-away impressionism. The painting is strik- ing, accomplished with only a few col- ors portraying a windswept desert landscape, and some dark figures, their backs to the viewer, walking into it. “My palate is much more limited,” he says. “That’s why my paint- ings in New York were successful. They were different, and that was exciting.” His desire to continue in the tradition of the impressionists and the experimentation of color has become the focus of his work. His gallery represents a vast range of subjects and col- ors, and he speaks excit- edly about the possibility of painting the blue bon- net flower blooming this year. He applies paint in quick staccato dabs, as opposed to traditional sweeping brushwork. This technique gives his work a remarkable tex- ture, but almost 40 years of painting took a toll on a nerve in his elbow. Seven years ago his hand gave out. “It’s wear and tear,” he says. His paint- ings were always large, but since the injury he’s made some changes. No commission deadlines, no more massive canvas- es. A quieter pace. Four years ago he moved to San Elizario and opened a gallery. A small, unvarnished community, it’s a place where you wouldn’t normally encounter fine art and that’s exactly the idea. “People would come to me and say ‘I feel so bad for you, now that you’re here.’ But I feel so honored,” he continued on page 26