There is a particular kind of awe that threatens to get in the way of everything — the kind that makes you go quiet when you should speak, and still when you should move. I have felt it standing in front of certain paintings in certain galleries. I felt it the moment we walked into David Leffel's studio in Arroyo Seco, New Mexico.
I had found David the way you find things that matter — by accident, late at night, through a short clip on YouTube. I watched it twice. Then again. Here was a painter working in the direct lineage of Rembrandt — not imitating him, but carrying something forward from him, the way a river carries the memory of the mountain it came from. I knew immediately that I wanted to learn from this man. It took time to find him. It was worth every moment of the search.
In 2023, David and his wife Sherrie McGraw — herself a master, with her own magnificent studio directly beside his — invited Joe and me to stay with them at their home in Arroyo Seco. I want to choose that word carefully. Invited. Not enrolled, not booked. Invited. It was, and remains, one of the great privileges of my life.
When we first met, barely beyond our greetings, both David and Sherrie announced that they wished to paint Joe's very interesting face. I protested, with as much good humour as I could manage, that my face was interesting too. They were diplomatically unconvinced. It didn't matter. I was already more blessed than I had any right to expect.
© Carol D'Arcy
A moment with David — Arroyo Seco
The following day we went into David's studio and they began. I watched. I did not paint that day. I simply watched two masters work, in the kind of focused, unhurried quiet that only exists in studios where serious work has been made for a long time. The light, the accumulated tools, the references pinned to the walls, the easels that have held so much — a studio like this holds its own history. You can feel it.
I wept, quietly, more than once. Not from sadness. From the particular overwhelm of witnessing something true being made, by people who have given their lives to making it. To me, studios are sacred spaces. And I was standing in one of the finest I have ever entered, watching two people I deeply admire paint the face of the man I love.
© Carol D'Arcy
Sherrie McGraw at work — Arroyo Seco
The following day, I painted a small portrait of Joe alongside them. Joe described the experience as extraordinary, from his position — watching us all paint him, staying still, being in the very essence of creativity. He was amazed at how differently each of us looked at him. All of us hunting his face for detail, shape, impressions. Our eyes and body language expressing us, finding him.
I liked that. Mostly because it's true — that every painting, on any subject, is in fact a self portrait. An expression of self. One of David's favourite observations, and one I carry with me into every canvas I begin.
© Carol D'Arcy
Portrait of Joe — painted by Carol D'Arcy in David Leffel's studio
We spent lunches and dinners getting to know each other. Sherrie took me to a local ballet class — hilarious — and to her local sketch class, which was magnificent unto itself. After eight days, we left, despite the invitation to stay longer. David declared us the best guests he had ever had, and said it felt as though he had known us forever. We agreed. But it is best never to overstay your welcome, and so we left.
We travelled across the United States — through New Mexico, Arizona, and finally San Diego, leaving from Los Angeles for the long journey home to Australia.
I miss them. I miss the access. I miss seeing their working souls, and the richness their lives and relationship offer.
David's great guide and inspiration is Rembrandt. I have come to believe that if reincarnation could ever be proven, we would find that David Leffel has been here before.
