Three Crosses is a small gouache study from the 90's which was part of a larger body of works from my Southwestern Series. I was so fascinated by the imagery in a photo of an adobe church, that I actually built a model of it and did my own studies from that second-hand reality. This work seemed appropriate for Easter, especially the shining cross against the black space behind it.
I have one memory of Easter that stands out above all others. It was a gorgeous, warm and sunny day - perfect April weather here in North Carolina. The family dinner was over, my folks had gone visiting, and I was looking forward to a nice, leisurely walk with my dog in the balmy evening air. We came out of the house and were coming up the drive to the road when I was suddenly aware of a chain reaction of barking dogs (like a wave, starting way off and traveling up my road). Didn't take long to find out why: just as we started up the road I heard hoofbeats and before I could get my wits together a white stallion came flying right at us! I yanked my dog a 180 and we beat it for the house as he streaked past us on his way to his objective: our lovely Thoroughbred mare "Dixie", who had sent him a signal.
Thus started a truly wild evening, with a hysterical dog in the house, a love-crazed stallion tearing around the fence and the neighborhood, an equally-crazed mare running around inside the fence, a deputy who showed up and assessed it as a "Mr. Ed" situation, the chubby back-up person from Animal Control who came with a dog truck instead of a horse trailer and just stood there watching, and finally every neighbor and good ol' boy around, trying to catch the horse. In the middle of it, my unsuspecting parents drove up. At least I had a lot of help explaining what was going on.
After three hours of "Wild Kingdom" in the back yard, the stallion wore himself out and took a fall which slowed him down, and he was caught. His owner was finally located and showed up on crutches with a piece of clothesline, planning to lead the horse home with it. It turned out that "Sultan" was 28 years old. I guess there was still plenty of fire left in that Arabian furnace! Enough to thoroughly plow a band about six feet wide all around our fence, but not quite sufficient to get to the mare. Every time I mowed, for several years after, I was reminded of that evening by the bumpy ground. And I can still see a beautiful ghost horse, snaking his exquisite neck and tossing his mane as he flew back and forth in the dusk in pursuit of amor.
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