Just for fun. We’re almost finished here.
One of my greatest delights is shopping for handmade things. One of the things that left me feeling a little unfinished when I went to England and to Paris was that these are not places where the native population still practices traditional crafts and arts – at least, not the kind that tends to charm the brass out of my wallet.
I’m certain, sort of, that this guy is a Zuni guy. He’s too beautiful to be anything else.
In Santa Fe, I learned this about the Navajo: in the middle sad history of their people, (I am remembering only on the fly here) – that would be the time when they mixed with the invading aliens from Europe – the conquerers, hoping to do away with the peoples’ culture and dilute them out of recognition, killed all their sheep. The entire breed and the life that sheep had meant – all gone. And so went away also the practical art of garment and blanket weaving.
This little seal, I bought on the Governor’s Palace portal. He was made by LChinana of Jemez Pueblo. Artists come in from all over the countryside and draw for “booth” space there, along the sidewalk. They lay out blankets, and on the blankets, they put their wares. We were hanging over this blanket a lot time, the things were so beautiful.
When the Navajos were past the concentration camp part of that history, then, they turned to doing other things. No longer did they have the old way of feeding and clothing themselves. Now, what they fell back on was the craft in their hands. They found that making the things they had always made – jewelry, baskets, small weavings – put them in a good position to trade. And so they have done to this day.
A deer, by the same artist. Here is the thing that wiped me out: his simple sculptures had a quiet I’ve rare seen. The shapes are as fluid as you’d imagine the animal’s spirit must be. There is a touch possible flight in this little deer, but at the same time, a wholeness, a peace, a loveliness I wish that I had the gift to fashion visually. I have always hoped to find this artist again. He will be much older now, and have moved on to other things. But I will always love this work of his, and be drawn deeply into it every time I look at his creatures.
This Navajo story was told to me by a woman who deals in blankets. I don’t know any of this of myself. The Navaho people don’t make blankets anymore. In that old day, they started trading for what they could no longer make. And along came the Pendleton woolen mills, who sent agents out to learn the traditional designs of the people, made wool blankets out of those and traded for the things the people made. Baskets once a practical necessity became art. Jewelry took the place of sheeping.
This crazy little horse was made by Jerry Nelson of the Black Sheep Clan.
This even crazier horse was made by an old man who was selling a belt full of them at the Portal last summer. I lost the slip of paper with his name on it. I’m sorry.
The Zuni have another story all together, but i don’t know it. I wish I did. And I will, sooner or later. Zuni arts are my favorites. They work in stone and feather and leather. You’ve heard of Native American fetishes – in the beginning, there was an animal spirit for each direction of the compass, as well as for up (the eagle) and down (mole). When you found stones that looked like one of these spirit animals, you picked it up, gave it a medicine bundle, and you fed it each day on corn meal, hoping to be blessed with the virtues that spirit commands.
The stones weren’t carved in the beginning. The shapes needed to be found already there. Nowadays, fetishes have become a huge trade item. I know, because I love to buy them. Some are made in China – and they are fine, if you only count them as chinese rock carving. But the ones I love are made by indigenous Americans – people of plain and pueblo and mountain.
This little guy is a found stone. Gently shaped. I bought him at Keshi, a tiny little store by one of our all time favorite restaurants in Santa Fe. They deal directly with Zuni artists and have some stuff that could knock your eyes out of your head.
This guy is more deliberately shaped, obviously. He’s not my favorite guy, but he’s a good example of what less traditional artists are doing with the stone. I was seduced by the black stone (onyx?) and the tiny turquoise inlay. He’s a little fat, poor thing.
This guy is even less traditional. Way more of a sculpture than a fetish. But I love him. Picasso marble and a grand little face. I don’t know if he’s zuni or if someone else did him. Not signed.
You can still get the fetishes that are found rocks, gifted with natural animal shape. But the artisans have gone beyond that – some bringing in elements from their own complex heritage – mixing tradition with art and producing things that are beautiful beyond reason.
I can’t afford those.
Here is the thing I wanted on this last visit to Keshi. No. Not just wanted. WANTED. WANTED. WANTED. But he’s art in a big way and cost $240.00 You can buy a lot of yarn for that kind of brass. Or food for that matter, or trimmed hooves. Still, I think he’s amazing and cheap at the cost for what he turned out to be. This artist was brought up in a Crow village, but I think his father is Zuni, and his mother from Laplander stock. I could have this all wrong. But you can see the Laplander influence on the lines and embellishments.
This is an awful photograph. Everything I shot there was back lit (as was this one – so I lightened it till the colors were dead), and the light in the place was that same rich amber I get at Gin’s house = the combination of Santa Fe light, light colored woods, dark stones. This – what is he? A loon, maybe? Can you see that Peter really works with the stone – its shape and its directionality? The motion in the lines is, again, peacefully true. Looking at this bird, you’d imagine him to weigh almost nothing.
This quail just killed me. Again, you can see the simple stone under the artist’s vision. Fat, silly, and I don’t know what he made those head plumes out of, but every piece of it is right.
More birds. All Peter’s. Why don’t I have a last name like Sohappy? (It’s a Crow name.) My last name means “man with the brown hair,” or “man who lives below the little hill” in Gaelic. G’s means “shield wolf.” G’s meaning is cooler. Now I’m thinking about this. If you were going to give yourself a real name like these, what would you name yourself? I’m thinking. I’m thinking.
Meanwhile, that owl is just so settled, and yet you imagine you’d feel feathers if you lifted him. And that black quail – is he a quail? The lines are wonderful. So joyful. As though he’s – or she’s all hunkered down in the dry desert forage, and the sun is just warm enough on her head –
I want to make them myself. I want to make everything myself. But I can’t make these. I don’t have any gift for this kind of line and shape. It’s like watching someone make a quick sketch, a few fluid lines – and suddenly, without the need to reproduce all the detail, or even every piece of the shape – the thing being drawn is right there in front of you – its spirit, its movement – its truth.
Makes my heart ache.
Speaking of speaking lines, I am going to give you a link. I know most of you never follow them, but this is so beautiful. So amazing. Utterly amazing. And I hope you try it, and see – because it’s part of what I’m talking about.
12 Responses to ~:: Tales of Santa Fe: Pt. 8