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.
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.
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.”
For years I have been dazzled by skies at sunset. I study the time in the evening when the sun is disappearing and daylight fades.
Afterward, stars begin lighting up the heavens. On a clear night far from city lights the vault of the celestial sphere can take ones breath away. Have you seen the milky away in all its splendor? And then witness shooting stars?
But sunsets are the phenomenon I get the most pleasure from above the horizon. Here in Santa Fe, New Mexico, USA the elevation is 7200 feet (2200 meters) above sea level. The conditions are such that many evenings provide dazzling sunset spectacles. And each one is different than those before or after.
Recently I went to a friend's home and after dinner we walked. As the afternoon reached toward evening, we climbed a hill and sat waiting for the sunset show to begin. There were sufficient clouds to dazzle the western sky with colorful refractions and shifting forms. We could not take our eyes from the unfolding drama. I snapped some pictures as I often do during these events.
A few days later I made a painting to celebrate and commemorate the gift that The Creator gave that evening.
Too late to turn
back now. I have bought my tickets, except for my return.
A thousand small,
cautious voices voices tell me to stay, don't go. I can hear them:
What you are doing is dangerous, extravagant, foolish. Money will
be lost. You will be lonely away from home. A thousand things could
go wrong and you won't even speak the language. You will go missing,
be taken advantage of by strangers. People will hate you because you
are American. You might get killed in unknown parts of the planet.
The voices of the
crowd that have seeped through my unconscious aren't my own voice. At
times I have heard the words spoken from someone's lips.
My authentic inner voice says
to go back to Venice, Italy, a place I love. Go when the tourists
have disappeared and the fog comes. Take photographs and paint.
Re-unite with friends there. On the way, stop and see brother Wade
and family in Washington DC, where I grew up. Mingle and rejoice with
him, his wife and two children. Go to Paris and kick around on
the cobbled streets of the left bank that I know. Roll around in the
subway . . . take the train and discover Versailles. Be entranced.
Let the creative juices flow. Take a cheap flight on Air France and arrive in Venice. Stay a month.
Let yourself be
silently drawn by the deeper pull of what you truly love. -Rumi
Montmartre street, Paris, France
Egypt
is poor and has been convulsed by the Arab uprising that has roiled
the middle east. Yet, whenever I go I am welcomed and feel at home.
Sure, I don't speak Arabic, look different, don't know my way around
. . . but that is part of the fun. After two visits, now when I
arrive in Luxor, there are two families waiting with open arms to see
me. Each family has five children and is extremely poor by western
standards. But I love being in the earthen homes with the animals all
around, the children sitting next to me, relaxed, drinking tea . . .
all the while the Nile River flows just steps away. I am
drawn by this; it is what I truly love.
Karnak Temple, Luxor, Egypt
I can stay a couple
weeks, a month, who knows? It is cheap to live there. My home in
Santa Fe will be rented. Hopefully, my gallery will have sales enough
during the slow season.
I will dream, be
absorbed in the ancient land of the Pharaohs' near the Temple of
Karnak, photograph, paint and write.
Masai young men and boys, Serengeti
I want to go back
to the land of the Masai people in Kenya and Tanzania. I believe I
will go to Arusha, in Kenya. I can find the Masai . . . and maybe
hike to the top of Mt. Kilimanjaro. Sure, I might get mugged or have
something stolen. But the local newspaper here in Santa Fe has a
daily police report, and those things and worse happen regularly.
So, with a full
heart I will go forth.
What you seek is
seeking you. -Rumi
Stop acting so
small. You are the universe in ecstatic motion. -Rumi
I abandoned my art gallery today and joined a procession of pilgrims.
This weekend Santa Fe hosts the
International Folk Art Market. It is hugely popular—a once yearly
event that draws people near and far like a magnet. This Saturday in the afternoon, I joined the
masses of people taking shuttle buses up to the Folk Art Museum where
the festival takes place.
My main two interests were to
photograph the amazing display of humans from around the globe, from 140 different countries all
dressed in native garb amidst their handcrafts, and also to buy a
hat. The colorful skullcaps I have purchased in the past wore out
from plentiful wear.
Fate smiled on my aspirations for I
took plenty of pictures of beautiful people—and found my hand
embroidered hat, made by a native of Uzbekistan. Her name is Gulnora Odilova.
I also bought this little sculpture . . . the artist is Claudio Jimenez from Chile
I have traveled thousands of miles and
been around the world twice, visiting many places, but once a year in
Santa Fe, the world comes to me. I so enjoy it!
The world is one country, and mankind its citizens. -Baha'u'llah
Other articles I wrote about the International Folk Art Market: A Gem In The Crown
Almost everyone has known the pleasure
of gazing in glass store windows. There is a name for it: “window
shopping”. The allure is in tasting the eye candy without having to
buy. It is a treat to just look and then move on.
My art gallery is in a pedestrian mall
on the central plaza in Santa Fe, New Mexico. Santa Fe is a major
tourist destination in the USA. It is rich in history, is
tri-cultural including Anglo, Hispanic and Native American people, is
free of pollution and sits among mountains, is the state capitol, and
a famous art center.
Boone Gallery advertises my artwork in a
glass display case that is in front of the building on the street
bordering the plaza. It is lit all the time and can be seen round the
clock whenever anyone stops to look.
The other day, July 5th, was
the anniversary of my daughter's death. My assistant worked half the day. I was supposed to go in the afternoon, but did
not have the will to go open up and meet the public. Late in the
afternoon my phone rang. I noticed the phone number was from Virginia
and thought it was an advertiser so did not answer. The next day I
saw that the caller had left a message. Turns out that someone had
been “window shopping”, and wanted to make an appointment to see
my artwork. When I called back, we had a nice chat and I learned that
he liked my art and wanted to see more.
I met the man and his wife at my gallery and they narrowed their choices down to four paintings. The woman left and the man stayed with his friend—deciding. He had a budget and so I offered him a discount for buying more than one. In the end, he bought three.
About a month ago I was sleeping in a tree. My room at the village of Olon along the Pacific coast of Ecuador was built ten feet off the ground around the trunk of a tree that came through the center of the floor and up through the roof. Ocean waves surged toward me and with but a few steps, I could throw myself into them.
At night, with stillness all around, the sea kissing the shore lulled me to sleep.
Land is a barrier for the sea. And the sea is likewise a barrier to land. They contain each other. The two have made poetry since the beginning of life on earth.
Now I find myself at home in Santa Fe, New Mexico, USA . . . high among mountain ranges, and far from any ocean. The vast sky kisses the earth in silence. At sunset, the drama where the two meet can be spectacular. Just as the ocean called me to leap in and engage, so the drama of sunsets calls me . . . and I go to witness the mystical place of meeting at the most special of moments.
Last night I went to some art openings with Therese. There were
four or five but we selected two photo exhibits. As we drove, she
became excited at the Christmas lights around town. “I just love
Christmas!” she said with a voice brimming with enthusiasm. I felt
surprise.
We parked near a gallery, began walking arm-in-arm in the
cold night air, and I volunteered a memory. “I was only four or five
years old. Our family lived in a suburb of Chicago. I remember my
mother bundling me up one cold night and taking me downtown on the
train. It was only about a half-hour ride. We arrived among the tall
buildings, and walked on the snowy sidewalks, holding hands. There
were throngs of people and I sensed excitement and gaiety. We stopped
in front of the big department store windows. They positively glowed
with Christmas activity and carefully constructed holiday scenes;
life sized Santa Clauses', elves that moved, realistic reindeer,
indoor snow—with snow-dust that glistened and gleamed. Big
train sets with moving trains. Colorful dolls all fancy and made up.
Animals I had never seen; penguins and unicorns. Mother and I pressed
our faces up to the glass and marveled. What I remember most was the
light, creativity, cold night and loving warmth of my mother.
It was special; just the two of us.”
The photo exhibit at Verve Gallery was remarkable. We found
the subject matter to our liking. The photographer, Beth Moon,
travels the world finding the oldest most wonderful trees with
character and photographs them at night. She chooses specimens that
are in places free of light pollution. Then carefully waits for
conditions that allow for photos that show the trees with the
backdrop of millions of stars.
Santa Fe Plaza, beginning of Christmas season
Everyone likes light in the dark; just like Christmas.
I see on the news so much
destruction in the world. How odd it is people can't be friendly! These conflicts occur at every level of human civilization;
within and between families, tribes, localities, nations, races, and
practically every stratum of mortal life. Other animals get along
better. Zebras don't fight each other. Bees cooperate. Dolphins love
one another in the big oceans.
Recently, I have trekked with friends up in the
mountains that rise above Santa Fe. The elevation rises to about
13,000 feet (3960 meters). As the seasons
change, so does the landscape. This time of year, our summits have broad swaths of
aspen trees that turn a brilliant golden yellow. An entire mountain
side can suddenly turn from green to gold. The display lasts a couple
weeks and attracts crowds of hikers who amble underneath the gold.
Above all is the bluest of blue skies.
Aspen spread roots in the earth and
from the roots arise other trees, called clones. The root system is a
colony and can live for tens of thousands of years. One tree dies while another
is born. Individuals live 40 – 150 years. Aspen support various
animal and insect life. I find great peace among them.
"Joy of Autumn" 24x36 inches, oil on linen
Imagine that human beings all spring
from the same root. We are made of the same substance, feed from the same earth and metabolize
together in the same way, using the sun as our source of generation
along with the elements. We stand side by side, and grow together under the same great
cosmos. Why do we turn against one another? There is something to
learn from the simple aspen tree.
I am very close to the heart of my
city, Santa Fe, New Mexico, USA. Now that I have a gallery again, I am
in the center of town—on the plaza. (See Boone Gallery). I feel the heartbeat and watch the ebb and
flow of humanity as tourists enjoy their sojourn here.
Boone Gallery, party during Indian Market.
Santa Fe is often in magazines and
newspapers across the country. It is an attractive city with great
hotels, restaurants, music, opera and of course, art.
Boone, painting in front of the gallery
Summer is when major events occur. The
biggest splash is made by Indian Market. It began this weekend and is
just now concluding. Here is an excerpt from Wikipedia: “Santa
Fe Indian Market is an annual art market held in Santa
Fe, New
Mexico, USA
over two days on the weekend after the third Thursday in August and
draws an estimated 100,000 people to the city from around the world.
The Market was first held in 1922 as the Indian Fair and was
sponsored by the Museum
of New Mexico. In 1936, the New Mexico Association on Indian
Affairs took over the event.
It is now organized by the Southwestern Association for Indian
Arts (SWAIA) and showcases work from about 1,200 of the top
Native
American (American Indian) artists from various tribes across the
country. The market features pottery, jewelery, textile weavings,
painting, sculpture, beadwork, basketry, and other traditional and
contemporary work. It is the oldest and largest juried
Native American art showcase in the world. The economic impact of the
Market has been calculated at more than $19 million.
Artists display their work in booths around the Santa
Fe Plaza and adjacent streets, selling directly to the general
public.In order to participate, all artists must provide proof of
enrollment in a federally
recognized tribe, and their work must meet strict quality and
authentic materials standards. Art experts judge the work and
distribute awards and prize money in various categories. On the
evening before the Market's opening, members of SWAIA may attend a
preview of representative works by the artists as well as the winners
in each category. It is a way for potential buyers to see the winning
artworks as well as what will be sold the following day. Many buyers
make a point of arriving downtown very early in the morning, and it
is not unusual to find artists having sold out within a few hours.”
Three Native Americans. Pictures taken during Indian Market.
Indian market can be a mixed blessing for many businesses. Despite the crowds most of the sales are going to Indian vendors. This year I have been blessed by people buying my art too.
Awakened experiences and new
perceptions are occurring regularly and I am thankful for all. My inner child is thriving, along with active imagination, and I have been producing a new series of artwork.
All I can say is
that it must be equanimity. I had a perception the other day—a visualization of looking through a thick sheet of glass. The glass was flawless and absolutely clear, allowing me to see with perfect clarity the world of beautiful nature. I think this showed my inner life is in a calm and peaceful place that allows me to experience the outer world with clear perception. Like a child looking through eyes of wonder, and years of experience offer some wisdom too.
In fact, my energy
has been good and I am doing things easily and without resistance. I
drove to California for sixteen hours straight. This surprised me.
Usually I get dreadfully tired after 500 miles or six or seven hours of driving,
and have to drag to a stop. Same on the way back—sixteen hours no
problem. My mental state is alert, calm, and reflective.
If I feel a
complaint, I can easily overcome it by absorbing into the “pristine
moment.” What is this? It is where love exists in nature and can
overcome troublesome mind with great curative effects.
These days I am
busy opening a new art gallery in Santa Fe. It is a temporary affair in the same
location on the plaza that I had a gallery last summer
for two months. This time I will go three months, taking advantage of
the busiest part of the tourist season. I do not know what to expect
and I am paying a higher rent than normal for the privilege of not
signing a one year lease. Last year it worked nicely, but I am
hearing from business people that retail is down from last year. They say it is
probably because of the uncertainty of the upcoming election. The whole world is watching as our national spectacle
unfolds.
Anyway, I am taking
the jump—the same way I did while in New Zealand last January and
jumped from a suspension bridge into a deep stream of glacial water
far below me. I crossed my arms over my chest and as I hurled myself
forward I cried, “Thank You God for everything!”
The Santa Fe Indian Market bills
itself as the “largest and most prestigious intertribal fine art
market in the world.“ Truly, it is a celebration of indigenous
peoples of North America and their handiwork as they arrive each year in Santa
Fe, New Mexico to sell their arts and crafts.
Having lived in Santa Fe for almost forty years, I have seen many
markets. It depends on my mood whether I go or not. Sometimes I think
of the big crowds and say “no way!” Other times, my curiosity
takes me to the plaza to wander amid the tents.
This year, I am almost part of the festivities. I opened a
temporary “boutique” gallery only fifty feet from the plaza—the heart of the market. (See Gallery.)
I am glad to be so close. I feel the warmth and excitement
generated by the natives and a reciprocal response of non-native
participants that buy the goods. I love the pride that the
Indians have of their heritage and how they celebrate in dress,
crafts, music and dance. It is quite awesome to see the tribes
represented from coast to coast and Alaska too.
