The "Mom Look" 
We all got it at one point or another...the "Mom Look." It's how you knew when you had pushed Mom just a little too far.
Henriette had a mom look that Michael says could "stop you cold."
A man, who came to interview Henriette, learned this the hard way. Before the interview, he had been warned not to ask Henriette if she was still painting.
The interview was going great until the interviewer apparently had a lapse in memory and jovially asked, "So Mrs. Hurd, are you still painting?"
Henriette's pleasant smile vanished and her eyes flashed. With the look that only a mother can give, Henriette gritted her teeth, stuck out her chin and responded, "Am I still BREATHING?"
And that was definitely the end of the interview. |
Always a Mother Perhaps one of Henriette's greatest gifts was her ability to capture the soul of a child on canvas. She had several techniques for accomplishing a child's portrait. Unlike most portrait painters, who would create a painting in a few studio sittings, Henriette felt that she needed to have the subject in her home for 1-3 weeks in order to get a true feeling for the child's personality.
All mothers are multi-taskers and Henriette was no exception. While painting the portrait, Henriette would entertain the subject with a story...usually being made up as she went along. For little girls, Henriette could often employ the services of a temperamental fairy, visible only to Henriette, named "Gardenia," who flitted around the studio. If Gardenia landed in the little girl's hands to sleep, the child would be more inclined to keep her hands still until Henriette had completed that part of the portrait.
For boys, a different technique was often necessary. Henriette's oldest son, Peter, once became restless during a session and Henriette asked why the story was uninteresting to him. "I want more blood!" he cried! So Henriette killed another dragon and young Peter was once again appeased.
Henriette painted the portraits of hundreds of celebrities and their children. Never one to tolerate spoiled children, however, she often sent a child home with far better manners than when he arrived. |
Chamber Music Concert at
the Hurd-La Rinconada
This year's Chamber Music concert featuring classical piansist, Jacob De Hoyos, was enjoyed by a full-house crowd of over 80 guests. Henriette's beautiful Steinway piano had quite a night, as Jacob's hands flew over the keys in a blur of sensational music that filled the valley.
Jacob De Hoyos is a senior at Texas Tech School of Music and is a native of Artesia. He has won the Janice K. Hodges Piano Competition and the Texas Tech Concerto Competition as well as the Browning Piano Scholarship, given to an outstanding pianist.
His near-flawless program included Ludwig Van Beethoven's Piano Sonata no. 21 in C Major and Robert Schumann's "Carnival."
The concert was sponsored by Chamber Music Festival, Inc. The non-profit group organizes free concerts in the area to introduce chamber music to those who might not otherwise attend a chamber music concert. |
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Hurd's Birds
Sentinel Ranch is a fantastic place for birdwatching as many colorful and unusual species pass through the valley on their annual migration. Recently we were thrilled to spot the Western Tanager (sporting his New Mexico colors) near the pasture by Las Milpas. |
Grilled Southwest Shrimp Kabobs
(The shrimp and vegetables in this recipe will cook differently, so put them on separate skewers while grilling. Then put everything together just before serving or put everything on a warmed serving platter and let your guests assemble their own kabobs!)
1/2 cup extra-virgin olive oil
1/2 cup dry, white wine
1/4 cut lemon juice
1 clove garlic, crushed
1/4 cup minced onion
1/4 cup soy sauce
dash of hot pepper sauce
2 lbs. jumbo shrimp, peeled and deveined
12 mushrooms
2 green bell peppers, cut into chunks
1 red onion, cut into chunks
12 cherry tomatoes
Combine olive oil, lemon juice, garlic, oinion, soy sauce and hot pepper sauce for the marinade, then pour the mixture over shrimp in a glass container.
Marinate 2-3 hours.
Heat the grill to medium-hot. Drain the shrinp, reserving the marinade. Place the shrimp on skewers, then do the same for the mushrooms, bell peppers, onion and tomatoes.
Place the skewers on the grill and baste frequently with the reserve marinade until the shrimp are pink and the vegetables are tender, approximately 6 minutes for the shrimp and 10 minutes for the vegetables. |
If you recently joined our online newsletter family, you've missed a few! Click on the photo above to link to our Newsletter Archives page. |
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Happy Spring Everyone!
Last year, in honor of Mother's Day, we focused our May newsletter on a truly exceptional mother, Henriette Wyeth-Hurd. There was a huge response to that newsletter, since so many of you were fortunate to have met Henriette during her lifetime and even more of you have been touched by her work. Henriette once said that she wished she could be "really famous." But she didn't want fame for the purpose of attracting commissions or art sales, but to have an important voice in American society on a subject that troubled her. Henriette felt that the state of the American family and particularly the role of women, was beginning to decline. At the age of 80, Henriette was interviewed by New Mexico Magazine. In the interview, she lamented, "Why are women letting go of their great purpose in life?" She felt that in their effort to become free, women had become laden with chains, forsaking their real power in the family to educate and civilize their children. "Too frequently, today's children are without discipline, ruined by excessive television and family life devoid of solid values. Women need to be very well educated to educate their children as they bring them up. I admire women-we are extremely strong, capable and can do much. I just think we need to do better." This attitude, no doubt, came from her father N.C. Wyeth, who taught his children that the only goal worth pursuing was that of excellence and anything less wasn't worth pursuing at all. Henriette applied this rule to everything she did, including of course, her most important role...that of a mother. |
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Green Pasture at Sentinel Ranch by Michael Hurd
Price: $7,500
Size: 13 1/2" x 19 1/2"
Medium: watercolor
Signed: Lower Left |
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East of Las Cruces by Michael Hurd
Price: $5,000
Size: 9 3/4" x 13 1/2"
Medium: watercolor
Signed: Lower Right |
| "Death and the Child" by Henriette Wyeth-Hurd |
 
The Story of a Mother by Hans Christian Anderson (Synopsis)
Late at night, there is a knock at the door. The mother, who has not slept for three days and nights watching over her sick child, invites the old man into her home, for it is very cold. The old man sits and rocks the cradle of the sick child. The mother begins to cry and closes her eyes to rest for just a moment. When she awakens, the man is gone and so is her child. The mother rushes into the street calling for her child. A woman dressed in black tells the mother, "Death has been with you in your room. I saw him hastening away with your little child; he strides faster than the wind, and never brings back what he has taken away."
"Tell me which way he went and I will find him!" begged the mother.
"I know the way," said the woman in the black garments; "but before I tell you, you must sing to me all the songs that you have sung to your child; I love these songs, I have heard them before. I am Night, and I saw your tears flow as you sang."
The mother promises to return and sing the songs for night, but begs her to let her go now to find her child. But Night sits silently, until the crying mother, wringing her hands in despair, has sung all the songs that she knows.
Satisfied, Night tells her to go into the forest. At a crossroads, she wonders which was to go. A thornbush, prickly and bare from the winter cold, promises to tell her where death went if she will hold it close to her heart for warmth. The mother pressed the thorn bush to her chest and the thorns scratch her and cause her to bleed. But the warmth of a sorrowing mother is so strong, that the bush began to grow leaves and flowers, even in the cold and snow. Thanking her for her warmth, the thornbush tells her which path to take, but the path ends at a lake.
The lake was too large to swim and not frozen enough to walk across. In despair, the mother lay on her stomach and tried to drink all of the water out of the lake. "You will never succeed in this," said the lake; "let us make an agreement together which will be better. I love to collect pearls, and your eyes are the purest I have ever seen. If you will weep those eyes away in tears into my waters, then I will take you to the large hothouse where Death dwells and rears flowers and trees, every one of which is a human life."
The now blind mother is carried through the air and then gently dropped at the greenhouse where Death cares for the flowers and trees, each one a human life. There are all sizes and types of plants from all over the world. Some look very healthy and others are very limp. Here the mother finds a pale, little crocus flower that is her child, recognizing it by the sound of its heartbeat. The old woman who helps care for the greenhouse says that she will tell her how to handle Death when he arrives, but she must give the old woman her beautiful hair. The old woman tells the mother that when Death comes, she must threaten to rip up the other flowers. Death will then be afraid for he must answer to God for each plant and only God decides when the plants are pulled up and planted in the Garden of Paradise, where we do not know what happens.
Suddenly, an icy wind blows through the hothouse. It is Death and he asks, "How did you find your way here and how did you arrive here before I did?"
The despairing woman replied simply, "I am a mother."
Death stretches his hand out to the delicate flower, but the mother grabbed two flowers and cried, "Give me back my child or I will tear up all of your flowers, for I am in despair.
"Do not touch them," said Death. "You say you are unhappy; and would you make another mother as unhappy as yourself?"
"Another mother!" cried the poor woman, setting the flowers free from her hands.
Death gives her back her eyes, saying that they are clearer now than they were before. He asks her to look into a well.
"I will tell you the names of the two flowers which you wished to pull up; and you will see the whole future of the human beings they represent, and what you were about to frustrate and destroy." Then she looked into the well; and it was a glorious sight to behold how one of them became a blessing to the world, and how much happiness and joy it spread around. But she saw that the life of the other was full of care and poverty, misery and woe.
"Which is the unhappy flower and which is the blessed one?" asks the mother, her heart beating with fear.
"That I may not tell you," said Death; "but thus far you may learn, that one of the two flowers represents your own child. It was the fate of your child that you saw,-the future of your own child."
The mother screamed with terror, "Which of them belongs to my child? Tell me that. Deliver the unhappy child. Release it from so much misery. Rather take it away. Take it to the kingdom of God. Forget my tears, forget all that I have said or done."
Death said, "I do not understand you. Do you want your child back, or shall I carry it to the unknown land?"
The mother fell to her knees and began to wring her hands. She asked God to forgive her for contradicting his will and she wept.
And Death carried her child away to the unknown land. |
A true woman of her environment, Henriette's usual mode of travel around Sentinel Ranch was her faithful workhorse, a Chevrolet half-ton pickup. Nobody could really blame her for excitedly taking the opportunity to take her oldest son's new car for a spin on Highway 70.
Young Peter and his little brother Michael were both "gear-heads" with a love of automotive innovation. Michael coveted his brother's new wheels; a 1960s model Austin-Healey 3000 with a gleaming, white paint job, wire wheels and a shiny, black convertible top. Little Mikey would often offer to wash it, just to gain the occasional privilege of driving the British sports car for a whole 100 yards.
Neither of the two boys were concerned when their petite mother climbed into the driver's seat and primly shifted to arrange her dress. It was a quiet day in San Patricio when Henriette eased past the Post Office and headed toward Casimiro Pacheco's place. Casimiro was the local mechanic and his wife, Marie, was a stout little woman who wore 4" heels to her job as teacher and principal at the San Patricio School. Most days, the familiar sounds around Casimiro's place were the revving of car engines and the clucking of a noisy band of chickens that strutted around the garage.
As Henriette disappeared into the distance, headed toward Ben Sanchez's grocery store a mile-down the road, the boys listened to the buzz of the Austin-Healey. The engine was wound tight as Henriette went through the gears. There was a nasty snarl from up the road, followed by the increasing volume of the engine as Henriette headed back toward the ranch. Michael and his brother looked at each other with growing concern.
Within moments, a flash of black, white and chrome appeared, skidding sideways as it hit the dirt road. Dust, flying gravel and a flurry of chicken feathers were accompanied by terrified squawking as the chickens dashed for cover. They scattered in every direction and many of them were seen skulking cautiously around the yard several days later.
Henriette ran her fingers through her hair and straightened her sweater as she stepped out of the car. "Well, that was fun."
"Mom!" Michael asked breathlessly, "How fast were you going?"
Innocently, she responded, "I was only going about 35 miles per hour."
Henriette's blithe expression turned to surprise and ultimately, a impish smile, as her sons explained to her that she had not been looking at the speedometer, but instead, she'd been watching the tachometer. She'd only been going 75 or 80. After that, the old ranch truck was often seen going a little faster around the these old dirt roads, with the Little Ol' Lady from San Patricio behind the wheel.
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