Learning to See

There is something quietly radical happening in rooms where people gather simply to learn how to see again.

To simply slow down long enough to notice the difference between what they think they are seeing and what is actually there.

For some time now, the Jemez Creatives painting gatherings have been doing exactly that.

Led recently by artist Myra Maher of Abrazo Sagrado Studio, the classes begin with what appear to be simple exercises: blocks, fruit, shadow boxes, grayscale value studies, light sources, color relationships. But sitting inside the room, it becomes clear fairly quickly that the deeper practice is actually perceptual.

Participants were invited to suspend what they thought they knew in order to actually observe what was in front of them.

At one point, Myra shared a line from an old priest she remembered fondly:

“God grant me real eyes that I may realize where the real lies.”

In many ways, this became the hidden curriculum of the class.

Because painting, at least as it was being practiced here, was about learning to be in observation.

To notice relationship before assumption. Value before color. Form before decoration. Structure before performance.

The exercises themselves reflected this. Participants worked dark to light. They simplified objects into masses and shapes before moving toward detail. They studied what sat in front of what. They learned to notice how distant mountains lose intensity through atmosphere, how light terminates into shadow, how even a sphere can become flattened or dimensional depending on the smallest line or value shift.

Again and again came the instruction to simplify.

“Simplify, eliminate, emphasize.”

And beneath that instruction was another lesson that felt both rare and necessary: the class was organized around practice with permission to stumble, to not know, to begin uncertain and slowly discover form.

At one point, Myra described the class not only as a safe place, but as “a brave place.” That distinction mattered. Because learning to see clearly often requires moving through discomfort first. It requires letting go of the shorthand assumptions the mind constantly projects onto the world.

And perhaps that is part of why gatherings like this matter so deeply in small communities.

On the surface, Jemez Creatives offers painting classes roughly every other month, bringing together local artists, beginners, longtime practitioners, and people simply wanting to reconnect with creativity. But underneath that practical structure, something else is happening too: the slow cultivation of observational culture.

People gathering in person, slowing down together, learning patience, attention, and how to receive correction. Learning how to notice subtlety. Learning to trust process again.

These are artistic skills, yes. But they are also community skills.

In a world increasingly organized around speed, reaction, and instant conclusions, there is something profoundly restorative about sitting in a room where people spend hours trying to understand the shape of light falling across a piece of fruit.

And perhaps that is why this gathering feel larger than art alone.

It’s helping sustain something many rural communities depend upon, spaces where people can continue becoming more perceptive, more courageous, and more connected to one another through shared practice.

The Jemez Creatives gatherings continue throughout the year, generally every couple of months, welcoming both experienced artists and complete beginners. Supporting these classes, by attending, sharing resources, inviting friends, or simply helping keep the space alive, is also a way of supporting the broader creative and cultural ecology of the Jemez Mountains.

Because communities are held together by places where people gather to learn how to see.