We all knew it was a message of love coming from heaven above. A once in a lifetime display never to be seen again. It’s been nineteen years since it happened but is still mentioned and makes me think how SPIRIT can use all creation to communicate to humans. Moreover, beings in the next world can give us physical signs that write indelible language upon our souls.
Naomi died of cancer in 1999 at age nineteen after a heroic battle to stay in the world she loved. One year later a group of devoted friends gathered at our home to remember her life. A woman who had been Naomi’s teacher brought materials to make a cord that we all could hold. Small pouches holding sacred objects like rose petals and each person’s note to Naomi were tied to the cord. We all went outside to a lawn and garden then stood together in a circle holding the cord and our prayer bags. One by one we read our remembrance and prayer. The sky had been cloudy and now it rained lightly in a mist. This was unusual because we had been in a drought. A dazzling rainbow appeared beside us. When the last person had read, we all stood together in unity. Suddenly two doves appeared directly above our circle, hovered for a second then dove spiraling downward so closely that their wings almost touched. Down they flew with rapidly beating wings and in perfect precision flew upward again, only to spiral down in place and rise again. The beating wings and precision of their spirals was joyous. It was apparent they came to bring a message of love to us. Then they flew away. One young person burst out, exclaiming, “I hope she keeps sending us messages like that, letting us know everything is okay!”
The picture of the bandaged head hanging from a clothesline with an ear pinned next to it took her by surprise. The young woman had been happily thumbing through my print drawer full of colorful landscape images. She spotted something different and could not take her eyes off it. I explained, "This is Vincent Van Gogh after he cut off his ear."
"Wow," she said, "I have to go get my boyfriend and bring him to look at this. He is across the hall at the jewelry shop buying a bolo tie."
A few minutes later the couple came in and I explained that the painting is part of my series called Hangups—images of faces hanging from clothespins. I showed them my book and pointed out Van Gogh, All Hung Up. "This one is in a museum in Arles, France, where Van Gogh lived." I said.
They bought the print: signed, numbered, and made with archival ink on 100% cotton rag paper. To go along with it I included a book.
Yes, Van Gogh did it. It was the night before Christmas Eve in 1888 -- a cold Sunday evening in the French city of Arles -- when Vincent Van Gogh took the razor he kept on his small dressing table and slashed off his left earlobe. After he was bandaged, he made a self-portrait that I used in my painting—exactly as he painted it. And I put his ear next to him.
The Hangups are my most unique series of art. I made the first on a whim in 1993 and more soon followed. My most prolific year was 1996 but I had to stop because they are unsettling. The last one I made was Hillary Clinton and Donald Trump when they were candidates for president in 2016.
I was in Buenos Aires and had to get to a tango performance or my stay there would not be complete. The show at Café Tortoni started at 11 PM. I arrived at the café and had a light refreshment before going downstairs into an areea that resembled a cave. The audience sat in the dark at tables as the performance began on a stage lit with colored lights that filtered through smoke effects to give just the right atmosphere for the passionate dancing. An ensemble of live tango musicians played adjacent to the dancers. Everything was intimate, especially as the room was small.
In the dark I strained for good views and snapped photos. I didn't know what I would get. A few gems came through and since then some of the pictures have made more than enough income for the entire trip to Argentina.
Yesterday, a married couple from Arizona came to The Boone Gallery and bought the two images shown here. This exchange reminded me of the whole evening and how fortunate I am to be able to make a living from art.
I love community celebrations where friends and family come together for
festivity and conviviality. Among celebrations in the United States,
the Fiesta de Santa Fe is the oldest continuing festival. It began in September of 1712; 54 years before the American declaration of independence.
The most recent fiesta occurred on the city square last weekend. The Boone Gallery is only steps off the plaza so it was easy to hear plenty of music, see dancing, enjoy food, and arts & crafts. Parades and processions rounded out the activities.
In the final hours a mass was held at St. Francis Cathedral downtown. The original charter from 1712 states that fiesta is to end with a prayerful mass. I went with Amy just as bells were ringing and enjoyed the hour-long service with singing and sermon in the stone cathedral. From there, churchgoers walked with lit candles in the cool evening air through darkened streets to a hilltop nearby, where a huge cross stands guard over the city. Bonfires lit the way. The final parade was accompanied by singing and ended with prayer over the city.
He burns every year to great fanfare. Zozobra is called “Old Man Gloom”, and is constructed each year then burned at a stake in front of a large crowd. He has grown from his original height of about nine feet into the largest marionette in the world—50’ (15.21 m) tall. The event is the cause of great jubilation and people come from far and wide to witness it. The spectacle is the official start to Santa Fe’s Fiesta.
My partner Amy Córdova won the contest to have her artwork depicted on the Zozobra poster and was given special tickets. The theme was the sixties so she incorporated symbols from that era. I haven’t been in years, and had issues with the burning of an effigy. Amy doesn’t like being in big crowds and was tempted to not go. But she is one of the stars of the show this year and I insisted we attend.
It is always a crazy event and people get bloodthirsty and overly excited. There is never enough parking and the field where he is burned is packed with all types of folks. I have a van so we put bicycles in it and drove as close as we could, then rode.
The air felt cool, with dramatic dark clouds becoming darker by the moment as the sun began setting. A steady stream of people walked on closed streets guarded by police at checkpoints. Near the park, Christian protestors proclaimed against the event, holding signs and entreating for Jesus. We found a fence, and locked our bikes to it. Our bags were checked and to my surprise we had to empty a thermos with coconut water in it. Only water from inside the park allowed. Our picnic food was okay.
I held Amy’s hand and pulled her forward through the crowd. People were everywhere, some already arrived and others streaming in. “I haven’t seen a crowd like this since carnival in Rio de Janeiro!” I said. We stopped at a concession stand to see Amy’s posters on sale then continued weaving into the mass of people standing or seated on blankets. I felt determined to arrive at the best vantage point available to us and we reached a spot directly in front of Zozobra and claimed a tiny patch of lawn. Now we had to wait an hour and half.
A bandstand nearby was the venue for live music that blared through loudspeakers. Anticipation was in the air as lightning flashed in the sky and thunder clapped. Zozobra stood at the top of a row of steps gazing imperturbably down at us. He looked clean and white against the dark blue expanse of sky. Around his neck hung a bolo tie.
“I felt a raindrop!” Amy exclaimed. Yep, soon it was raining steadily. Most people had brought ponchos or an umbrella. How could we have not bothered? Oh well, the music continued, lightning flashed behind Zozobra and thunder rolled.
At nine o:clock the mayor came out and shouted “Viva fiesta!” A proclamation reciting all the sins of Zozobra was read. The crowd chanted the verdict, “Burn him”. Ghouls swarmed down the stairs, people with fiery torches pranced, and a beautiful woman fire dancer dressed in red leapt about with flaming torches at Zozobra’s feet. He began to move and moan. A string of firecrackers flashed from both sides of his head. His eyes came aglow. HIs head turned from side to side. Zozobra awoke and seemed to sense his fate. Then a little flame started him afire. All the crowd stood—some screaming burn him! I found myself shouting with the rest. It felt good. He seemed to catch fire from the inside. Light came from his mouth and he groaned loudly. Fireworks began shooting up behind his back as colored lights bathed him aglow. He became illuminated in fire and flickering brilliance. Everyone felt ecstatic, and some maybe a little sad. This year, I didn’t feel sad for him . . . he was built to burn; fulfilling his purpose. Anyway, he will be back again next year.
It's that time of year when the people of Santa Fe celebrate with an annual fiesta. A spectacular occurrence sets off the festivities with a bang: the burning of Old Man Gloom—otherwise known as Zozobra. "Zozobra is a hideous but harmless fifty-foot bogeyman marionette. He is a toothless, empty-headed facade. He has no guts and doesn't have a leg to stand on. He is full of sound and fury, signifying nothing. He never wins. He moans and groans, rolls his eyes and twists his head. His mouth gapes and chomps. His arms flail about in frustration. Every year we do him in. We string him up and burn him down in ablaze of fireworks. At last, he is gone, taking with him all our troubles for another whole year. Santa Fe celebrates another victory. Viva la Fiesta!" - A.W. Denninger
At a Zozobra event and poster signing
My partner, Amy Córdova had two of her artworks selected for posters of the event, which draws tens of thousands of people. The local Kiwanis Club is the sponsor and proceeds go to the Boys and Girls Clubs of Santa Fe. The theme for this year was the era of the sixties. So Amy made a take-off of the Beatles Abbey Road Cover and also Zozobra wearing bell-bottoms and John Lennon glasses.
Amy, signing her posters
Amy was given four VIP passes to the burning, so we will be close up. Next week I will post a story with photos of the burning of “Old Man Gloom.”
At the center of my town is a plaza. It is well-used, especially in summer with frequent festivals and music concerts. Santa Fe, New Mexico is the oldest state capitol in the nation, founded in 1608 by New Mexico's third Spanish governor, Don Pedro de Peralta. It was made the capital of the territory in 1610. At over 7,000 feet above sea level, it is the United State's highest capital city. Santa Fe is the third-largest art market in the United States, after New York and Los Angeles.
Folk festival
I am fortunate that the Boone Gallery is just steps off of the plaza. There is usually music there, tourists from all parts of the globe visit, and I have been surprised by car shows, motorcycle gatherings, avant-garde music raves, Spanish markets, folk festival parades, pet parades, and now the big daddy of them all—Annual Indian Market which commenced this weekend.
Classic car show
Usually, despite being so close to the center of action during Indian Market, my shop is quiet—like being in the eye of a hurricane of cultural and commercial activity.
This is understandable since there are over 200 fabulous Indian artists spread across the plaza and adjacent streets. The masses of people are busy perusing and purchasing Native American arts and crafts.
Traditional Native Attire
A favorite attraction during the market is a fashion show. There are various categories including traditional and contemporary. Natives from all over North America present themselves in hand made attire and it makes for regal pageantry.
To add to my happiness sharing the plaza with indigenous Americans, a local hotel owner came in my gallery and bought one of my large paintings; a colorful river scene. Nature is the most native of all. Thank you Santa Fe plaza.
We first met in a little art gallery in Hoi An, Vietnam. The front door on the cobbled street was wide open and I walked in, curious about the shelves and walls covered with magical wood carvings. After a brief greeting with the young sales woman, I became entranced by three carved figures, standing together on a shelf. They are meant to stay together and I bought all three, along with a teak wood Buddha and a few other carved objects.
The three have been with me for years now. I forgot what each man represents and sent photos to a friend in Vietnam who sent me the info. Over time I lost track again.
They stand on a bookcase and offer silent blessings each day. I could not tell Amy what they personify and had to work hard to come up with three phrases; happiness, longevity and prosperity . . . but could not identify which is which.
A search on the internet came up with answers. They are “Sanxing” the 3 Star Gods. In my picture above, the first figure, from the left is Lu Sing, who wears the ornate head dress. He is the deity of prosperity and gives guidance in matters of career, social status and fortune. The next figure, with bulbous forehead and holding a peach in one hand is Shou Xing. The peach represents immortality. He knows how long every human being will live. He carries a gourd, attached to a dragonhead staff, that holds the elixir of life. The last figure is Fu Xing, auspiciously associated with the planet Jupiter and considered the personification of good fortune. He is generally depicted in scholar's dress, holding a scroll, on which is sometimes written the character "Fu". He may also be seen holding a child, or surrounded by children. Mine also has a crane at his feet.
Knowing the meaning behind the sculptures deepens their effect. May they always stand together for the highest good.
When my friend Therese saw the likeness of birds in twilight clouds and showed me the photograph she took, I thought to make a painting. It hung in my gallery for several months. A few days ago a woman from Denver, Colorado became entranced with it and bought it.
Karen had recently moved with her husband to Colorado from the east coast and had left much of her art collection behind, in order to begin fresh. “Our house has been bare because I have not wanted to buy anything unless I really love it."
It pleases me greatly to be able to meet the people who purchase my art. I was able to look into Karen’s eyes and see her excitement. I was there when she took a picture on her phone and sent it to her husband for approval. He replied, “Nice.” She laughed at how when he says “nice” it usually means something much more. Then she looked back at the painting and pointed to a face she saw in the clouds. Therese saw the face too, and eventually so did I.
Pareibiola is a psychological phenomenon that causes people to see or hear a vague or random image or sound as something significant. Some people do this regularly and others don’t. My father admitted he never could see the, “man in the moon.”
I love looking at skies with clouds that shape shift and turn colors. Especially sunsets give me great joy and a sense of awe. I made a photograph of a landscape with clouds forming the shape of a heart over mountains. Even my father, bless his departed soul, would be able to see it.
Saints, shamans, spirit beings, extra-terrestrials, creatures of every type, the sun and moon . . . these are just some of the subjects of the creative mind of Amy Córdova.
I first met Amy at a dinner hosted by mutual friends. She was dressed liked an artist with a colorful blouse and skirt, and Native American jewelry. After discovering her art background, I asked if she would be interested in putting her work in my gallery and working there while I went to Venice, Italy to live. I planned to be gone several months.
It has been six months since I returned and Amy and I have become partners in many walks of life. We make art together, manage the gallery as a team, share meals, read fairy-tales together, pray together and more.
In less than a week my gallery is hosting a one-woman show for Amy. It is during Spanish Market in Santa Fe; appropriate because of her Spanish heritage. Fortunately, my gallery is just steps away from the plaza, where all the activity takes place.
The name of Amy’s show is Querencia, and refresh to “a deep rooted longing and love for a specific place and those who inhabit that place.”
It is a rite of passage each year in Santa Fe, New Mexico. The second weekend in July brings artisans from all over the globe together for an extravaganza of popular, of-the-people art: the International Folk Art Market.
People come from far and wide converge on the grounds of Santa Fe's Folk Art Museum. I love most having the unique opportunity to see artists from places I might never visit, dressed in their native costumes and gathered in one place amidst all of their artwork. Tents shelter everyone from the sun.
I ask people and they are usually delighted and honored when I take their photograph. Then I see what Baha'u'llah meant when he said, The earth is one country, and mankind its citizens.
