Dino in the Details

Published by the Ranch Record, Fall 2024 Edition

Story and photos by Ross Hecox

Roadside diners have a way of leaving lasting impressions. Whether it’s their food, atmosphere, the local waitress taking your order, or a tiny gift shop with clever souvenirs, they often frame the culture of the local community.

The Sierra Grande Restaurant, paired with a Sinclair Gas Station on US Highway 87 in Des Moines, New Mexico, greets travelers with stunning Western art hung on its dining room walls. The framed prints of charcoal and graphite drawings were created by local artist and rancher Dino Cornay (pronounced DEE-no Core-NAAY).

One drawing depicts a cowboy riding through New Mexico’s wide-open range and watching a massive thunderhead build in the northern sky. In another, a rancher and his horse take in the view from atop a high, rocky bluff. And in another, a seasoned hand sorts cows using the lightest, most subtle cues to guide his cow horse.

The waitress swoops by one of the tables and refills Cornay’s coffee cup, making familiar conversation with her regular patron. A man wearing a stained straw hat and spurs jingles over to introduce himself to Cornay, and the two talk about cattle and the weather.

“I love these people,” Cornay says. “These are my people.

“Every artist wants to bring out a feeling in somebody viewing their work. There has to be a sentiment in it. They might laugh, or you might see tears. They might put themselves or a family member in that situation. ‘That looks like my uncle.’ Or, ‘Those hands look like my granddad’s.’”

Cornay has been drawing cowboys, horses, cattle and ranch life since he was a boy.

“I just had this incessant need to create,” he says. “I’d take the cardboard from the package of a new shirt and draw on that. A lot of times I used my crayolas and a Big Chief tablet. Whatever I had, I was always doodling. At about age 4 or 5, I would draw cattle in train cars. It just grew from there.”

There was always plenty of material to serve as inspiration for the young Cornay, who grew up on his family’s ranch in New Mexico. His great grandfather, Carlos Cornay, immigrated from France to Canada at age 13, and by 1865 was cowboying near Folsom, eight miles northwest of Des Moines. He began acquiring land and established his own ranch, which benef itted from strong grasses and a railroad station built in 1888.

Carlos’ son, Antonio, told a young Dino about hearing bison herds roam through the area, the chorus of their grunts sounding like bumblebees. He recounted eating biscuits with cowboy George McJunkin, the former slave who discovered the bones of an extinct, ice age bison that died from the famous “Folsom Spear Point,” proving the presence of humans in ancient North America. Antonio also taught his grandson about working cattle and taking care of his horse.

“One of the biggest butt-chewings I got from my granddad when I was a kid was when I put my saddle blanket on crooked one time,” Cornay recalls. “He jerked my saddle off and told me to put that blanket on square. He said if you put a sore on that horse, we’ll have to turn him out and won’t be able to ride him for a week or two. You’ve got to take care of your horses, because we depended on them.”

Cornay remembers getting horseback at age 5 and helping the cowboy crew.

“You might be in the way all day long, but you learned,” he says. “Another thing you learned was to keep your mouth shut around older people and listen, because they knew a lot of stuff.”

Cornay’s father, Carlos, fed with teams and worked cattle in an era that predated the common use of pickups and stock trailers. He rode all over the rugged country and even up the now-dormant Capulin Volcano. He also established his own ranch, something he and his wife passed down to their children.

“My mom and dad started purchasing some land in the 1960s,” Cornay says. “My sister and I still own it. It’s near Folsom. We don’t own cattle anymore, so we lease it to some people who run cows. We call it the Double H Ranch. It’s not huge, but it’s ours and it’s beautiful. We love it.

“Of course, we’ve got to keep the fences up. Keep the windmills turning. We’re doing some repairs on the barns right now. I’ve just got irons in the fire.”

Those irons include tending to the Double H, playing guitar in a local band, and finding time to create his drawings. Most evenings, he works for several hours in his studio, situated in the southeast corner of his house in Folsom. His work is meticulous, often involving as many fine pencil strokes in the background as in the subject. All the while, he deftly uses composition and contrast to guide the viewer’s eye and make his drawings engaging.

“People ask me, ‘How do you work on your drawings for so long?’” Cornay says. “There are different phases. When you start, that is the breathtaking phase, where you have nothing but a white piece of paper. Then, when you get about 100 hours in, you start seeing a little progress—if it’s a big drawing. Then, you have the danger zone, where you start scratching around instead of drawing. You get tired of working on it.

“Those big pieces are intimidating. You’ve got a little voice saying, ‘You can’t do this.’ But you have to push yourself through that. Once you do, you start seeing the last of it materializing, and you’re closer to where you can sign your name on it.

“And I have learned to find a spot where you quit. It’s like riding a colt, where you say, that’s enough for today. It’s the same way with a piece of art. You can sit there and pick around on that piece of art for years if you want to. But you’ve got to find a place to stop, and then make the next one better.”

Cornay lists a number of artists who have influenced him, such as Tim Cox, Bill Owen and Robert “Shoofly” Shufelt. However, he is largely self-taught. He took one art class in college and got a D.

“I had too many horses and cattle to draw, and I couldn’t sit there and draw a ball on a table,” he says. “I ended up not going to class and almost flunked.”

Cornay graduated from Kansas State University, where he competed on the livestock judging team. His understanding of the anatomy of horses and cows shows up in his artwork. His piece, “Years of Breeding,” portrays a well-balanced, nicely muscled ranch colt. “Intensity” expertly illustrates the bulging veins, flared nostrils and intelligent expression of a young horse in a snaffle bit.

He works to accurately depict ranching methods, livestock behavior and cowboy gear.

“You have to understand the little nuances,” Cornay says. “What a horse does in certain situations, how cattle act in certain situations—you’ve got to be around that and steeped in that. Do I know it all? No way. I learn something every time I’m around animals.

“But one thing I’m proudest of is that I’ve never had somebody I portray come back and say, ‘You did this wrong.’ I’m adamant about the gear and everything. A lot of these ranch cowboys, they don’t have a lot, but they’re very proud of what gear they own. You’ve got to keep those things in mind.”

Spending so much time on each drawing, and yet not able to spend full days in his studio, means Cornay produces fewer originals than other fine artists. However, he makes limited edition prints of his work, typically selling anywhere from 200 to 500 of each, mostly through orders to his website. Offering prints makes his work more accessible to cowboys and ranchers, something he notices every November at his booth, set up during the World Championship Ranch Rodeo in Amarillo, Texas.

“Selling prints is a good thing,” he says. “You take a young couple with kids that come to the trade show in Amarillo. They don’t have the scratch in their pocket to buy an original. But they can still own my work.”

Cornay’s connection to modern ranchers also puts him in a position to observe the changing times. He says the big outfits with large cowboy crews have become less common. That affects how work is done, and it’s reflected in his art.

“Right now, we are transitioning out of the hard-core cowboy culture into more cost-effective ranching,” he says. “It’s not affordable to take a wagon out anymore. It doesn’t behoove people to get up and ride 10 miles to the pasture to gather when they have a trailer. You can’t blame what’s happening on a lack of wanting to keep the old traditions alive, because people don’t have the time.

“Am I incorporating all this into my work? Yes. Now, I’m not going to draw a four-wheeler. There’s just as much pride today as before in riding and gathering cattle. Everybody around here still drags their calves to the f ire. I don’t know how anyone will ever replace horses, especially in rough country like this.”

Cornay appreciates that many of his neighbors regularly invite him to fall and spring works, allowing him to help where he can and gather reference photographs that inspire his drawings. His skill and deep connection to ranch life and livestock explain how his work has been commissioned by multiple livestock organizations.

Recently, he has worked on projects with the Colorado High School Rodeo Association, American Angus Association, American Hereford Association, National Cattlemen’s Beef Association, New Mexico Cattle Growers Association, Merck Animal Health and Texas and Southwestern Cattle Raisers Association. He has also been featured in publications such as the American Quarter Horse Journal and Western Horseman.

The honors and recognition speak volumes about his skill. But for Cornay, nothing is quite as fulfilling as belonging to the ranching community he was raised to admire and respect.

“When I first went to the Quien Sabe Ranch, this cowboy walks up to me and says, ‘Who are you? What are you doing here?’” Cornay recalls. “I told him who I was and that I was going to take some pictures, and I would be sure to get some pictures to him. He says, ‘Ugh. I’ve heard that before.’ He changed his tune when I brought a pile of pictures the following fall. We’re great friends now.

“When I walk into a branding pen, I’m welcome there. I’m part of the family. They pat me on the back. ‘How are you doing?’ You don’t get to that point if you’re exploiting people for the sake of drawing a piece of art. You’re portraying the people you love.” ★