A kind elderly friend once labeled me a Renaissance woman. Her tactful way of saying I couldn't decide what I wanted to be when I grew up. For years, when politely asked What do you do, I'd try to discern whether to talk about martial arts, creative writing or aviation. After expounding on whatever field of interest currently consumed my time and/or paid the bills, I'd add, But I'm really an artist.

Since my husband Jim and I have retired, I cut to the chase. I am an artist.  I paint the west. Wild places. Big skies. Blossoms cloaked in thorns. Windswept plains. Craggy faces. Western landscapes. I'm a native West Texan. Ancestors on both branches of my family tree actively participated in the Texas Revolution. I paint what I was born to.

I was born in Lubbock, Texas, where Daddy, Dave Cook coached high school basketball. Mom,watercolorist Bettye Cook spent hours drawing with me. This genetic blend undoubtedly led to my eclectic life pursuits. I hold a fourth degree black belt in taekwondo, which Jim and I taught for almost two decades; together, we crewed a corporate jet for seventeen years. Currently, my determined agent seeks a home for my first novel while I work on a second one. I also bake bread. Sometimes.

I've spent my life a Texan. I graduated from Midland Lee HS, then from Texas Tech. (My B.A. is in English and Biology. I also studied anthropology and studio art quite awhile. See what I mean about deciding what I wanted to be?)  Done with formal education, I then decided I wanted to become a pilot.

Jim and I met at the Lubbock airport, married five months later. Three months after we married, I piloted a small plane through unmarked power lines. This near-fatal experience shaped both my life and our marriage. (Jim did a lot of laundry, cooking and cleaning that year.) I believe each sunrise is a gift to be savored. I also think avoiding risk gets you nowhere except feeling bored and unsatisfied. And after three decades plus of marriage, Jim and I still treasure our time together.
 
Jim is 100% left-brained. I have a left brain, so we flew well together. He does not create. I know a piece is going great if he comes into the studio and says Man, I wouldn't have used blue there. Having a life-partner who understands that sometimes an artist is incapable of logical speech is helpful. Having a mate who cheerfully cooks then delivers a glass of wine to the studio and reminds one it's time to eat is priceless. He's my best critic, my strongest supporter. We spend days out with our cameras, driving, hiking, dodging snakes while seeking a certain sky or prickly pear for me to paint. I work either on location or from our own photos. With few exceptions, my paintings reflect real landscapes. Jim tries his best to keep me honest as to the details, same as I kept him steady on the glide slope of an instrument approach.

Jim isn't the only one who has helped shape my career as an artist. Mom taught me to draw, effortlessly as I read and write.  Lubbock artist Peggy Benton Young taught me colors and color theory. Both women had the good sense to send me out into the world to paint my own paintings, my own way. Master pastelist Albert Handell of Santa Fe alberthandell.com has shared his profound understanding of value, shape and dynamic tension, elements that make the difference in good versus great compostions. I owe him even more for sharing his intrinsic passion for creating.

 Lifelong thanks to little sis, Kathy Nammour for begging me to draw her paper dolls because she liked my colored pencil creations better than "store-bought ones". She's my first and still dearest collector. Baby bro Kelly Cook, an award-winning landscape architect in Midland, TX KDCassociates.com  regularly lends encouragement when I'm feeling overwhelmed and under-talented. And, I have two terrific cheerleaders in siblings-in-law Grace and Clyde McWhirter, who patiently and without complaint review the first draft of most of my creations. They're also my private tech support team in all things computer-related.
Michaelangelo couldn't have surrounded himself with better folks. I don't imagine he drew paper dolls, either.

In 2004, after 35 years flying jets out of Lubbock, Jim retired. I had no problem tagging along. Infected with chronic wanderlust, we sold the country club home we'd designed and lived in 26 years. We bought a big RV, packed up the dog and the parrot and set out to see America.
It was a grand plan. We got as far as Fort Davis, Texas. (I've been coming here since I was a teenager.)  It seemed a comfortable, familiar place to spend our first winter as nomads. No adjustment necessary. True to plan, we left for Canada that May. We'd originally planned to retire outside Taos, New Mexico, another beloved retreat. (Taos is, coincidentally, the northern end of the Old Spanish Trail.) We got that far on our big adventure. The parrot's passport didn't arrive in the mail. Gas prices skyrocketed. I'd left my pastels in storage. Call it artist's intuition, but the trip just didn't feel right. 

We did a one-eighty for Big Bend country.

We've lived here in the Davis Mountains ever since. We don't let grass grow too high under our tires, but we'r remain emotionally rooted in Far West Texas, where skies are big and bold, where sunparched men still tip their cowboy hats to the ladies, and where I'll never run out of things to paint.

(Our canine companion, Cooks the Ranch Dog has even found work here. Her insightful cards can be found in our online Studio Store.)

BETTYE P COOK  ("Mom")

Shop the Studio Store for note card designs from 
Mom's rich watercolors!

  
 


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