A Life in Brushstrokes: My Journey as Don Crowley’s Model

Don Crowley, Jetta and Keeya Wood

From the age of twelve, I found myself in a world of oil paints, soft brushstrokes, and intense focus—sitting for Don Crowley, a man whose artistry turned faces into stories. At the time, I didn’t fully grasp the weight of his talent or how well-known he was in the world of Western art. But I knew one thing: being his model was more than just posing—it was becoming part of something lasting.

The Art of Being Seen

Crowley was more than an artist. He was a storyteller. He didn’t just capture what was in front of him—he saw beyond the skin, past the expression, deep into the soul of his subjects. My sister and I became his favorite models, returning to his studio year after year. He would arrange his paints with the same precision each time, watching the light change as he studied the structure of our faces.

Before painting, Don would often take photographs of his models, studying the way light and shadow played across their features. He once told us, “Taking pictures for a painting is like acting too.” He believed that every image carried an emotional weight, that the posture, the expression, the way someone held themselves—all of it contributed to the final portrait. Modeling wasn’t just sitting still—it was embodying a mood, a presence, a story.

Don never liked it when anyone watched him work. His studio was his sanctuary, and even my dad’s sister wasn’t allowed in while he was photographing his models. He was always lost in his craft, so focused on capturing the perfect angle that he often became oblivious to his surroundings. Sometimes, he’d get poked by a cactus, stumbling through the desert terrain while keeping his eyes locked through the lens—clumsy, but completely engrossed in his art.

Our images traveled beyond his studio—into magazines, gallery walls, and even his book, Desert Dreams: The Western Art of Don Crowley. His work, celebrated across the country, was featured in Settlers West, Trailside Galleries, and Altermann. As a Cowboy Artists of America member, he won awards for his ability to portray Native American life with depth and authenticity. His hyperrealistic paintings gave the world a glimpse into a culture filled with tradition, resilience, and beauty.

Here’s an image of his book, which features my sister and me:

More Than a Muse

Our modeling for Don wasn’t just an artistic collaboration—it was also a way to support ourselves. Every year, my sisters would visit him, and the money we earned helped pay for our personal expenses. Back then, $150 to $300 made me feel rich—it was a lot of money for us, and it meant the world. One of our favorite things we spent it on? Skates. My sisters and I bought skates for ourselves, thrilled at the freedom of gliding across the pavement, a simple joy made possible by the time we spent in Don’s studio.

But his connection to us ran deeper than the art. Over time, Don acquired our beaded regalia—pieces of history, woven with care, passed down through generations. He understood their significance. These weren’t just adornments; they were reflections of who we were. And when he passed away in December 2020, just months after his beloved wife, BJ Crowley, those pieces came back to us.

The return of our regalia wasn’t just a transaction—it was a gift. It was Don’s way of saying, These belong with you. Holding them again was like reclaiming a part of our past while honoring the man who had preserved them with such care.

But Don didn’t just paint my sisters and me—he painted my husband, Randy Wood, and our two children as well. His art wove our family into his legacy, ensuring that generations of our story would live on in his work. His paintings of them weren’t just portraits; they were reflections of love, history, and continuity—the continuation of a relationship that had shaped both his artistic journey and our lives.

An Unfinished Story

Though Don is gone, his paintings remain—telling stories to those willing to listen. And every time I see his work, I don’t just see an artist’s skill—I see the quiet hours in his studio, the hum of concentration, the unspoken understanding between painter and subject.

I see us.

I also see the quiet ways in which Don honored the people he loved. I’ll always remember how he opened the car door for BJ, never failing to show her the kind of care and respect that speaks louder than words. It was a simple act—one that showed his deep admiration for her, his unwavering attention to the people who meant the most to him.

And now, with the regalia back in our hands, we carry forward a piece of his story too—woven into ours forever.

Here are some of his most well-known paintings that reflect his artistry:

• Colors of the Sunset – A breathtaking piece that captures the warm hues of a desert sunset.

• The Seamstress – A beautiful depiction of a Native American weaver, highlighting Crowley’s ability to portray intricate textures.

• A Man of Honor – A pencil portrait of a Plains Indian, showcasing Crowley’s skill in capturing dignity and tradition.

• Twilight—2nd Mesa – A mesmerizing oil painting that reflects the quiet beauty of the Southwest.