Keeping it Real

After a few years of restless uncertainty regarding the direction of my artwork, I'm finally admitting to myself who I really am as an artist. Relieved with this long-overdue acceptance, I'm going on with my bad self.

For me, it's all about the horse, but it's not just about portraying the horse in pretty pictures. Horses are magnificent creatures, no doubt, but strictly idolizing them as the beauties they are is to deny their paradoxical nature. Consider this quote from my artist's statement: "...expressing the subtle with an undercurrent of volatility."

Horses have distinct personalities. Some are sweet in nature, accepting, generous and willing. Some are sullen, nasty and psychotic - not always resulting from their interaction with evil humans. DNA and genetics play a role as well as learned behavior from other horses.

Horses are dangerous just by way of their size, speed and sheer athleticism. A spooked horse can duck violently in a millisecond, sending a rider helplessly off into space. Anyone who has worked with horses can attest to the consequences of not following the rules of sensible horsemanship. I've been kicked, bitten, crushed, stomped, run-over and otherwise had my bell rung many times. Not to mention being "unseated". I accept responsibility for my stupidity and carelessness, however some of those physical encounters entailed some frightening equine aggression.

Truth be told, our age-old association with horses is wonderful and terrible. Accidents are inevitable. People get hurt and killed. Horses get hurt and killed.

I respect this aspect of our relationship and have a lot to say about it. No morbid depictions but no 4-F's either (foals frolicking in fields of flowers). It's just how I've experienced it.

Snake, 20"x24", oil on canvas. Click here for more info.

Calling it as I see it,
Sharon

Past Meets Present

I know I told this story last year but it's worth repeating. As trainer Leon (Blue) Blusiewicz stood over my shoulder last fall watching me paint the brilliant foliage at Oklahoma, he said an old-time trainer from the 1950's told him (Leon) that the last stall in this barn was occupied by none other that the great Man 'O War. Here's a link back to my original post Oklahoma Lore.

You all know I love a great story. It's certainly plausible as so many famous horses down through history have passed through the stable gates of Saratoga. So I just had to return to Barn 61 and set up behind Gary Sciacca's barn to paint the scene from the opposite side. I had a clear view of the infamous stall with the training track in the distance. Right now Barn 61 and about six others are housing Todd Pletcher's many two-year-olds.

The weather was beautiful and forecast to stay that way for a few days. I worked on a fairly large panel (for plein air), 16"x20" intending to take my time on this piece and return multiple days. In three days, painting about 2-2 1/2 hours each session, I completed  the painting I'm calling Past Meets Present. 

I was smitten by the Italian exercise boy who snuck down to the end of the barn for a smoke and a text. Into my painting he went. Later, the barn foreman came over to check out my progress and exclaimed "hey, he's not supposed to be back here!" 

Inadvertently busted.

Past Meets Present, 16"x20", oil on panel

You can make out a chestnut in the first stall. He's possibly looking for something or someone, or perhaps the scent is unfamiliar.

Okay, I couldn't resist.
Sharon

Two Old Ladies and a Blacksmith

My season of being a hermit never really was. The winter weather wasn't either, and that's why. However, I never feel I'm being as productive as I think I should be.

Our recent trip to Florida was warm and lovely. Road trips. Many hate them but I relish the boredom of miles and miles of tedious city and landscape passing by. My mind calms, the incessant chatter quiets, clearing the way for constructive thought. I can say that some of my best inspiration is achieved while the bland scenery blurs.

Here's my first painting since reentry:

Two Old Ladies and a Blacksmith

I'm always looking through the hundreds, if not thousands, of stable area photos I shoot every year. Searching for inspiration, I always pass over this particular image of complicated dappled light and intricate, overlapping figures. Plus, there was a big post and railing right through the middle of it blocking out the front of the horse. Maybe it was all the vitamin D absorbed in Florida that sharpened my memory of what a great story it portrayed.

Last summer as I was plein air painting by Elmer's Gap, a very old lady rode by on a pony leading a racehorse. Neither track at Saratoga allow ponying so I could only guess that this lady took her horses across the street, circled the main track over to the historic small oval that encircles Clare Court. It's a very good distance from where I was set up. I smiled as I observed her in my admiration, not only still riding but ponying at her advanced age. But what I was really thinking was: this scenario could be me if I hadn't made the shift from race tracker to full-time artist.

Fast forward a month or so, the main meet has concluded but there's still plenty of horses stabled at Oklahoma. Camera in hand, I'm walking around searching for inspiration and - there she is! Her horse, a mare, was getting shod and this old lady was doing her best to hold the mare AND keep an eye on the blacksmith. Her arm was stretched out clutching the end of the shank and in the other hand she swung a rub rag to and fro to keep the flies at bay. Then the mare turned her head to also observe the blacksmith and I fired off about six shots to capture the moment. Priceless. Rare. But affectionately familiar.

Michael and I both chuckled over this as we always agreed that the hardest thing on the track is to work for someone with only one horse. I respect the tolerance and patience of this blacksmith. And I hope to see this lady back at the track next year. I will introduce myself, ask her how the mare is doing and inform her that I was also once a member of the sisterhood of tough, tenacious and determined race track ladies.

Seasoned girl power,
Sharon

Oklahoma Lore

I managed this little plein air sketch this week when the weather warmed up. My biggest challenge to painting outside as the weather cools is keeping my hands comfortable. Everything else is easy...long underwear and my Ariats with Thinsulate keep my core and feet warm, but the fingers - even with hand warmers - get painfully cold. It's always been a problem even when I was young. As a last ditch effort, I ordered SmartWool gloves today as suggested by another artist. Realistically, I have to accept that temps under 40 call for studio work, as much as I'd love to paint outside in the snow.

I set up on one of the trainer's viewing stands, facing the back of one of Pletcher's barns across from the track at Oklahoma (Saratoga Race Course). The brilliant gold of the tree against the barn in shadow on an overcast day was irresistible.

Gold Tree, 8"x10", oil on panel

Because I was next to the clocker's stand, a few trainers came and went, ignoring me for the most part. An older trainer, Leon "Blue", was curious about my painting and told me an interesting little snippet of history. He stated that over 40 years ago (Leon's probably in his early 80's), another old timer informed him that the stall on the far right was used by Man o' War. He added that he didn't know how true that was but it's interesting anyway and could indeed be possible. I emphatically agreed.

If it's not too cold tomorrow morning, I'll try to get to the track to take advantage of the fleeting time I have left while the horses are still here. I'll go and stand in that very stall and attemp to invoke the spirit of one of greatest race horses in history. I'm not the zen master I wish I was but sometimes...just sometimes...if I'm quiet...I can pick up vibes.

It's just so wonderfully romantic,
Sharon
P.S. Talk about history - the fences in my sketch enclose the remains of the old Horse Haven track...easily 150 years old.

The Remaining Drawings

My Kickstarter project "Renderings of Historic Saratoga Race Course" for the 150th Anniversary is nearing completion. Four of the eight original drawings are available. They're 11"x14" and created with pen and ink followed with a wash of watercolor on paper. They can be purchased framed or unframed.

Sanford Stud Farm

The history of this farm and Saratoga Race Course are closely woven together. Located just north of Amsterdam, New York, three generations of the Sanford family bred and raced some of the country's best horses beginning in the 1870's. On the Oklahoma side of the barn area is a section named “Sanford Court” in honor of the farm. The Sanford Stakes is still run today (the only loss for the great Man O' War by a horse aptly named Upset). I visited the few remaining buildings and took this reference photo of what were once the mare and foal barns, adding my own horses and grooms in period dress from my imagination. It's said that the horses were walked from the farm to the race track...about twenty-six miles...and people would line the streets to watch them go by.

The Paddock

Circa 1910's, notice the paddock is comprised of gentlemen only, all wearing straw-type hats (very in-style) as they observe the horses entering for saddling. African-American grooms walk their charges through thick grass with no gravel paths such as those that exist today. The trees in front of the stalls are mostly gone now, and the few that remain are fairly large. The red and white striped awnings were added much later.

                                                              Harrowing the Track
Before it was mechanized with tractors, the harrows that comb the surface of the track between races were pulled by draft horses. The starting gate was also moved around the track with teams of horses. Many years ago when I was a young teenager, my dad would take me to Narragansett Park in Rhode Island and I remember being awe-struck by the massive size of these reliable horses. Take note of the trees in the infield. Most are gone now but there are a few left that have grown huge and momentarily block out the field of horses from the cameras as they race down the backstretch.  

The Loose Horse 

This is my take on a drawing that appeared in the Daily Graphic newspaper in 1877. Long before photography became a staple tool in news reporting, illustrators had to quickly sketch out the day's events. Note how all the horses are all in the same extended stride and the two horses with riders behind the loose horse were drawn much smaller, a means of creating spacial perspective. I think these artists did a great job back then, drawing quickly and effectively to capture the essence of a story. 

If you are interested in acquiring any of these, please email me: sharon@sharoncrute.com

Derby Pining

This is the time of year that I really miss the track life. I don't miss the grind: the seven day work week, getting up way, way before sun up and the constant physical demands of very hard work on a human body. But man, do I miss the horses.

Moi on the shank, Bay Meadows

I hold my stories sacred...and I have lots of them. Spending twenty-five plus years in the microcosm of this community yielded a perspective of life in extreme. Now that I view this milieu from the outside I honor the membership I once held. My participation is from an artist's viewpoint and I'm okay with that as I was privy to this demanding lifestyle for over half my days.

Ponying at Bay Meadows, 1993

But I still miss the horses. Their beauty humbles me. The chiseled, cocked heads, the streamlined movement and poetry of an innate intelligence. Like a ticking time bomb, their power and danger vibrates perilously, barely contained, seeking release. Exhilarating and terrible combine to create a thrill undefinable.

Running a nervous filly, Golden Gate Fields

There are several directions I can go with this. Oh yes, I have an opinion about every facet, nook and cranny of this game. As I grow older, I prefer to simplify and be grateful for my time spent in this exclusive club. Aging often makes one yearn for the past, a past not applicable to present conditions. So I'll stay here and paint.

Michael & I in the paddock, somewhere on the California Fair Circuit. Great times.

But man I miss the horses.
Sharon

Sanford Stud Farm

This short road trip was inspired by my latest project - creating eight historical renderings of Saratoga Race Course for the upcoming 150th Year Anniversary.

I heard that a few barns of the original Sanford Stud Farm remained intact. Formally Hurricana Farm, the impressive facility was established by Stephen Sanford in the 1870's. Located on the Perth/Amsterdam border here in New York, I can't believe that I've driven Route 30 right past the huge mare barn without noticing it. Sadly, it's now surrounded by encroaching strip malls and parking lots.

The result of his physician's urging to buy a peaceful place in the country with a couple of horses, Sanford built a farm of over eleven hundred acres with an impressive roster of thoroughbred champions. That would include the 1916 Kentucky Derby winner George Smith and the first American winner of the Grand National Steeplechase, Sergeant Murphy. I guess some people are not wired to do things in a small way.

This was the mare barn, looking more like a factory, as viewed from the parking lot of a store I can't remember.

The old feed bins are visible through a window.

This lone barn sits behind the mare barn, possibly once housing a stallion. Notice the Walgreens in the background. Constant traffic travels an access road.

I'm walking down a row of mare and foal barns that have remarkably weathered the years. Even the paddock fencing still stands. This is on the other side of the access road. 

If you look further back behind the row of mare and foal barns, neglected remains of other buildings are visible in the distance. We could feel the ghosts of so many horses, hear their calling and footfalls as they're led to and from the barns. Can you imagine the tales and secrets contained within these sturdy walls that stubbornly hold fast against the ensuing years? It eerie and bittersweet but it's hallowed ground to me. I'm grateful to the Friends of Sanford Stud Farm who work to preserve what's left of this very historical farm.

It's been said that the horses were walked to the Saratoga Race Course. That would be almost thirty miles!

A little history for my horse peeps,
Sharon

Breeders' Cup 2011

Here's a few of my personal Breeders' Cup connections as experienced via my long summer at the Saratoga meet:

Think names aren't important? Sometimes they're everything. Stopshoppingmaria became an instant fan favorite at Saratoga even before she broke her maiden which she accomplished easily in her second start by over nine lengths. She became the talk of the two-year-old fillies. Not a bad second place finish in the BC Juvenile Fillies Turf either.

Some of the owners of Turbulent Descent (there are several and some are first timers) came into my booth to see my artwork but I wasn't there (argh)! Michael did his best to coax them into returning to meet me. Their excitement of being at Saratoga with such a nice filly was understandable, but a few did come back. When we were in California many years ago, Michael galloped a couple of horses for Turbulent Descent's trainer Mike Puype - most notably, Old Trieste. The two of them had a few minutes to chat when Mike P. also visited my booth. The next day Turbulent Descent blasted the field in the Test Stakes. The gang had to be so disappointed with the trouble she experienced in the BC Filly and Mare Sprint, finishing fifth.

Early one morning I was photographing reference at the Oklahoma training track. A very amiable boyish-looking man walked up to me and introduce himself - George Bolton. Okay, I'm embarrassed that I didn't know who he was at first but quickly assessed his connection to Stonestreet Stable. We discussed The Factor and he invited me into the paddock that afternoon to photograph a filly he was extremely high on - My Miss Aurelia who was running in the Adirondack Stakes. In the paddock, George was too busy to talk to me as he was engaged in crowd control and ambassadorship, but I did manage to invite him to my booth. Unfortunately, he never made it. But his filly won the Adirondack and she also won the BC Juvenile Fillies convincingly.

My Miss Aurelia prior to winning the Adirondack Stakes.

Last year I had the honor of creating the commission of Big Drama as a gift for his owner, Harold Queen. Winner of last year's Sprint Eclipse Award and last year's BC Sprint, this year he didn't repeat and finished seventh. I still enjoy my personal connection and loyalty to this professional racehorse. Just love him.

BC Classic winner Drosselmeyer looked small and thin to me as he was brought to the paddock for the Sword Dancer Stakes.

Drosselmeyer

This gal, however, looked magnificent...

Havre de Grace on her way to her victory in the Woodward Stakes.

So there you go. From the artist's perpective.

Love to all the horses who ran their best, Sharon

Old Photos of Us (really old)

I finally did the inevitable: cleaned out the old 35mm photographs that were stacked in the studio closet as tall as I. Purging to the nth degree. I've been intending to do this for...well...several years. Shoe boxes filled with photos I thought I would need for reference forever. There was a time when, as an artist, if I wanted to paint a starting gate I required lots of decent photos of a starting gate. Not so much anymore with the instantaneous internet availability of almost everything. Not to mention digital cameras.

So, I thought I would share with you the ones I deemed worth saving. Maybe even in a couple of these blog posts. After all, 10+ stuffed shoe boxes have been honed down to one medium size carton. They're the best of an arsenal.

Here I am ponying one of Michael's fillies at Bay Meadows in '93.

Michael galloping one of his own horses on the Oklahoma Training Track
at Saratoga in the mid-80's.

Don't you love this? Michael training babies with his Irish friend John at a ranch in Half Moon Bay just south of San Francisco. They made their way down these magnificent cliffs and galloped on the beach. One time I went with him and there was this guy jumping up and down like a crane with his parachute glider. The young horses were wary but curious and they all made their way past without incident. That's Michael in the blue jacket.

Gold panning in Alaska in the early '90's.

I went on an all-girl camping trip in Arizona with a couple of my best girlfriends. On a very remote section of road on the Apache reservation we came upon an area littered on both sides with a vast amount of animal bones. So eerie and I was mesmerized with the scene of destruction. The margarita in the plastic cup added to my morbid fascination.

“In solitude we give passionate attention to our lives, to our memories, to the details around us.” - Virginia Woolf

October 31st, 1980 - October 31st, 2008

If you read the title, that's a span of twenty-eight years which is how long Michael and I have shared a ball and chain. That's right, we married on Halloween. Not only that, it was between races at Calder Race Course. Let me explain:

We thought a Halloween wedding would be over the top. We had two horses in that day, one in the first and the other in the last. After cooling out the one in the first, we rushed over to the race track chapel. Prepared with marriage license and blood tests, we approached Rev. Holzemer, race track chaplain at the time (bless him), and requested that he marry us quickly, as we had another horse to run. To say he was taken aback is an understatement. Patiently, he informed us that the state required two witnesses. Michael glanced around and dashed over to the HBPA to enlist the secretary, Mrs. Michael, followed by a short jaunt over to A.E. Cohen, the race track mercantile, to beg witness for our ceremony. They both acquiesced and Michael and I fondly refer to our "kosher" wedding.

Romantic? Not so much. Cheap? You bet and sans the complaining family, endless planning and pouring over ridiculous detail. Neither horse won that day but do you think we cared?

“A wedding anniversary is the celebration of love, trust, partnership, tolerance and tenacity. The order varies for any given year.” - Paul Sweeney

The Day After

There's been enough speculation. But of course I have to add my two cents:

Michael isn't a Desormeaux fan and hates that he fought Big Brown after the break. I watched the replay carefully and have to agree. There was room for the horse to get up along the rail and he wasn't boxed in until Desormeaux fought him, trying to take him back and to the outside from the get go. When he was asked pre-race by Jeannine Edwards if going to the front was a possible strategy, Desormeaux replied with an emphatic "no! not at a mile and a half". Well, it worked for one horse. All hindsight now, however, and there are 101 reasons (excuses) that my horse got beat - as they say. It's good to know I'll probably see him at the Travers.

I guess this kills the deal with Suffolk Downs. Sufferin' Downs to me. Home. Where it all began. I may have even made the journey back to witness that Mass Cap. One thought leads to ancient musings which prompted me to dig out some of my old track badges that I've managed to save. Some of you reading this weren't even born yet when moi was pioneering and struggling to make way for the infinite possibilities you modern females enjoy at the track today. You're welcome. Please enjoy this stroll down the ol' timer's lane:

My name was Wilson back then (brief husband no. 1). The year is 1973 at Narragansett Park (now an industrial park) and I worked for the notorious B.K. Sipp. Listen up kids - Dutrow is a cream puff compared to that bad actor.

Here's my partner in crime before we even met. The year is 1974 and he was one of the youngest to get a trainer's license. This was at the old Lincoln Downs, now a greyhound track (I think). It was here that I got my very first race track license at age fifteen.

Precious at the old, wonderful Rockingham Park, now a shopping mall. Many, many fond memories of that party meet when we shipped over from Suffolk on the 4th of July to enjoy two short months at the lakes.

Notice the scarf and frozen expression. That's because Suffolk ran the winter meet - akin to being detained to a work camp in Siberia. It's 1979 and I'm still very young yet getting wise...

My last year at Suffolk, 1983. Now married to husband no. 2. Ready and willing for bigger and better adventures...

"Hindsight is wonderful. It's always very easy to second guess after the fact". -
Helen Reddy

Rooneyitis

The list of Kentucky Derby hopefuls is gearing up and getting my attention. This is old news, but I was reminiscing with Michael about how the racing secretary writes condition allowance races as preps for the monsters. Of course I'm referring to the recent romp by War Pass in just such a tailored allowance at Gulfstream a few weeks ago. This is useful for the big guns but a dirge for the rest of the entrants.

War Pass cruising to an easy 7 1/2 length victory in his conditional allowance on Feb. 24th.

The race is usually customized with a provision by date, such as, non-winners of a race (of the winner's share of the purse), oh say, $60,830 since December 1st. This date typically is one day after the last winning race for more than that amount (i.e. Nov. 31st, by maybe one dollar). This tactic is useful for the connections to get a relatively easy race for a big horse that's been freshened up. It's complicated but commonplace. If you can read a condition book, you're familiar with the process.

It happened to us during the eighties at the Meadowlands. Michael was training a solid allowance filly, Continuous Pursuit, who was at the end of her career and broodmare-bound. Imagine looking over our race on the overnight and seeing that we're in against Princess Rooney. Remember her? The 1984 winner of the Breeders' Cup Distaff? The first Breeders' Cup victor to be inducted into the Hall of Fame?

You'd like to exit a horse's career on a win, not a distant second. Our filly's stable mate had unfortunately (or fortunately) become caste the night before our scheduled duel with the Princess. Stated neighbor was done up in poultice and left white streaks on the stall walls. So, in order to get scratched from race, we swapped stalls with the neighbor. When the state vet arrived to inspect our filly, we exclaimed that SHE had been the damsel in distress on the previous night by getting caste as evidenced by the white stuff. We then jogged her as required, and being a bit gimpy anyway, our claims were substantiated.

Exasperated, the state vet mumbled, "looks like another case of Rooneyitis."

Best of luck to War Pass in the Tampa Bay Derby tomorrow.

Half Moon Bay

When I was going through old photos for my recent post "Race Track Stories", I came across these incredible shots. One of our Irish peers, John Roch, had taken a job breaking babies at a ranch out at Half Moon Bay just south of San Francisco. John invited us out to see the spectacular scenery and wow, was it ever. The two guys jumped on a couple of babies and made their way down a steep cliff to gallop on the beach.

That's them to the right of the bottom pilings. In the spring, gigantic waves reaching 30 feet tall register on the Richter scale at the University of California in Berkeley, about 40 miles away. It's a world class surfing destination.

As I made my way back up the cliffs, a parachutist had arrived on the horse path and was jumping up and down like a fledgling, testing the conditions in preparation to jump off the edge. I smiled to myself wondering, oh boy, how are the babies going to react to this bazaar phenomenon. Like this happens every day. Michael is in the blue jacket.

Here's how horses are: they made their way past the parachutist very curious but unfazed, then ducked and dived from moi standing at the top of the hill with my camera aimed at them!

"In my opinion, a horse is the animal to have. Eleven-hundred pounds of raw muscle, power, grace, and sweat between your legs - it's something you just can't get from a pet hamster. " ~Author Unknown