68 SACRED PLACES SEDONA TUESDAY, APRIL 13, 2010 Couldn’t get a good perspective on Bell Rock so went off trail and bushwhacked my way to a high point in the north. The usual problems of bushwhacking around here—catclaw, cactus, spiky trees, deep canyons, and pour-offs that take you by surprise and send you way off course. FRIDAY, APRIL 16 I read in a book about vortexes that they exaggerate whatever you are feeling—in my case depressed and anxious about this project—I can’t see where it is going yet. I must open myself up to positive energies. Souvenirs for New Age paintings could be dream catchers, crystals, etc. CHRIST IN THE DESERT MONASTERY WEDNESDAY, APRIL 21 To Christ in the Desert monastery, thirteen miles down a dirt track, fortunately dry, or my car would never have made it. I arrived in time to go to the 1.00 service (SEXT). Ten minutes chanting psalms in the contempo- rary-looking adobe church. About twenty-five monks in black habits and twelve visitors. Like a new boy at boarding school, I followed what everybody else did but always slightly too late. We filed into the refectory for lunch served by three monks. A simple but substantial meal of pasta, veg, salad, bread, and apple crumble. We sang grace, and then a monk read to us from an autobiog- raphy of a Benedictine monk. All here is silent—apart Selected Diary Entries Tony Foster writes detailed diary entries when he is traveling to capture the full experience of working and painting on site. Below are sample entries from a variety of painting sites for Sacred Places. from the occasional whispered question—and then only at certain times—no one speaks. It seems rather rude— everyone is well disposed but can only communicate it by embarrassed smiles and nods. I find it hard to imagine a life led in such a way—the contemplative life may be OK if you have plenty to think about, but what if you don’t? After lunch went scouting for a painting site—not easy—the canyon is very broad and scenic only in patches—getting a vantage point is difficult. Finally found one looking north up the Chama River. Supper was self-service at 6.20. Again in silence, but eaten at some speed. I can’t think what everybody has to rush to—perhaps the monks have got TVs in their cells! Back in my cell in what they call “the DEEP silence” (as opposed to the shallow silence of earlier), I make tea and contemplate. Dark about 8.15. FRIDAY, APRIL 23 A cold, blustery, snowy day. After breakfast walked to my proposed painting site—it works OK but so windy, with a cold down-canyon wind, that I went up a side canyon to see if I could find a rock and tree picture. Up to the head of the canyon, scrambling up boulders and over very soft red sand. Tried but failed to get onto the mesa. On the way down I thought, “more accidents happen on the descent than the ascent,” when the boulder under my feet split in half and bowled me over, falling about ten feet after me and landing on my leg. The size of a suitcase, it could have easily broken my leg. Luckily, as the sand was soft beneath my leg, I was merely bruised and shocked. Found a suitable spot to work and got a good combination of background mesa, foreground tree, and boulder. Went to SEXT at 1.00—I’m beginning to get the hang of it now, though not sufficiently to join in the singing. I can see the need to join in is a powerful force in these circumstances. After lunch—readings and sung graces again today—back to work in the cold wind until 5.45. Not brilliant painting—couldn’t get the red wall right—must concentrate more instead of busking. Collected willow and made a cross. CHACO CANYON FRIDAY, APRIL 30 Our hike to Pueblo Alto starts very interestingly, following the Pueblo people’s route up through a narrow fault in the rock 250 feet and out onto the flat sandstones of the mesa. It follows the edge for a while before swinging north and climbing up to the ruins. Found a piece of 12c black and white pot, but we all agreed not to take it, tempting though it was. Completed the circuit, much of it round the rim of the mesa. It was a lovely hike, very varied geographically and scenically with occasional Pueblo people marks— stairways, pecked bowls in the rock, fragments of pot. Suddenly hit by a snowstorm that blew away as soon as I got out my waterproof. SUNDAY, MAY 2 A much warmer night but the sound of snow falling from 3.30 onwards. At 6.30 the tent and all surrounding landscape covered in thick, wet snow, still falling heavily.
