From Munich to Mesas: E. Martin Hennings’ Technicolor Southwest
Talk about a plot twist: imagine studying classical art in Munich, Germany, only to end up painting cowboys in New Mexico. That’s exactly what happened to E. Martin Hennings, who probably never expected his European art education would lead to painting sagebrush and adobe houses.
Hennings arrived in Taos in 1921, sponsored by arts patron Carter Harrison Jr. (Imagine having someone basically say, “Hey, here’s some money. Go paint the desert.” Dream job, right?) Little did Harrison know his investment would help create some of the most vibrant paintings of the American Southwest ever made.
If the Southwest was a movie, Hennings painted it in Technicolor. While other artists might have seen brown desert, Hennings saw purples, blues, and greens that made New Mexico look like it had raided a candy store. His trademark style? Dazzling color combinations that would make a rainbow feel underdressed.
Let’s talk about his horses – because boy, did Hennings love painting horses. His equine subjects were so perfectly rendered, you’d think he’d spent his Munich years secretly studying horse anatomy instead of classical figure drawing. Though one has to wonder if the local horses ever demanded artistic approval before he displayed their portraits.
Hennings had a particular fondness for painting Native American riders against aspen trees. It became such a signature move that other artists probably thought, “Oh great, Hennings got to the aspens first again.” He turned these scenes into symphonies of dappled light and shadow, though painting all those aspen leaves probably had him seeing spots for days.
Unlike some of his Taos Society colleagues who were all about the drama, Hennings preferred his scenes peaceful and harmonious. No wild west shootouts or stampeding buffalo here – just serene vignettes of daily life, albeit in the most spectacular colors this side of the Rio Grande.
He joined the Taos Society of Artists in 1924, bringing his European training and technicolor dreams to the group. While some artists struggled to adapt to Taos’s unique light, Hennings embraced it with the enthusiasm of someone who’d just discovered a new color in the rainbow.
Today, his paintings remind us that sometimes the best art comes from unlikely cultural collisions – like a Munich-trained painter discovering that what the American Southwest really needed was more purple. And really, couldn’t we all use a little more purple in our lives?
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