From THE LAND (Mountainair) to Emaho's (Santa Fe)

Monday, September 6th

'The Land' is a 1/4 square mile (or 40 acre) plot of wild pine and cactus scrub-land outside Mountainair NM belonging to Edite and Tom Cates, an outdoor studio and exhibition space that is an extension of their gallery in Albuquerque (or perhaps the gallery is an extension of ‘the land’, as I believe ‘the land’ was acquired/established first). It is also part of the same larger Loma Parda parcel of 37 plots, another of which is where Jo Sage has built her Earthships. We walked the 1 ½ miles from Jo’s to ‘the land’, which took us more than an hour as we got lost for the last ¼ mile off-road and cross-country with no landmarks to guide us. We got distracted by the local dump which we mistook initially for a potential artistic 'resources lab.' Fortunately we pitched up by the dry arroyo (river-bed) which cuts north-south across Loma Parda, and could follow the multi-colored boulder field to ‘the land.’ We knew we’d arrived when we spotted one of Steve Peter’s stone benches etched with a sound-poem (Peter was one of the early artists-in-residence), nestled among the pinon trees edging the arroyo.


We found Larry sitting under a shade structure, whittling one of his characteristic rabbits or turtles, and Jeffrey showed up presently and offered to take us on a tour of the art works on the property. Most of the exhibits are taken down after each show, but a few things remain, either because so firmly rooted, or because decomposition was part of the piece, or because they are works in progress. Jeffrey Lee is a writer/journalist and on the board of the Cates’ gallery,who likes coming out to 'the land' to camp.

We followed the ghost of a path back to the arroyo, where Jeff pointed out some large boulders piled in the bends. This was the work of Lynne Hull, who Jeffrey described as being at the forefront of environmental art, helping restore damaged ecologies or preventing further damage (the boulders were intended to reduce erosion of the arroyo's banks), working unobtrusively almost unnoticeably. The two large and small ‘Signs’ on the next hill over were by Ted Laredo, painted in glow-in-the-dark green and blue: billboards without text (but what is the message?). Edite Cates is working on a burial project, and three graves have already been dug, very specifically positioned relative to the points of the compass and the sun; she is working under her tribal name, Ye Ehekatl, and describes herself as a Baltic/Nahuatl tribal artist. Her husband Tom Cates has a reverse archaeology project underway, which will involve burying objects rather than digging them up. In his younger days he worked as an illustrator on archaeological digs, making detailed drawings of the finds. A V-shaped pattern of mirrors on poles, low to the ground on a hillside, and some cut-out signs on the fences with numbers representing arc measurements or latitudes and longitudes maybe, were the work of some students from a university in Albuquerque.

Shortly after noon we retraced our steps along the arroyo and up the ‘main’ (though still unpaved) road back to Jo’s, and tucked into a hearty brunch of eggs and toast, followed by a nap then a solar shower.

Unfortunately Jo’s friend George had already arrived by the time we returned, so we didn’t have a chance to hear Jo's story over a cuppa tea and watch the video that a friend had made when she’d just completed the shell of her first earthship. We did learn that she is 77 and started her earthship work 20 years ago (nice 'retirement' project), learning construction techniques from Michael Reynolds and having done most of the building on her own; and that she is a Capricorn and therefore prefers being rooted and seeing the fruits of her labor, rather than travelling the world like her Cancer friend George. Her blue eyes are bright under her hat, gray pony-tail poking out behind, the deep wrinkles of her cheeks testament to days working in the sun and wind. 'Some artists paint; my home is my work of art,' she said -- and it is.

We hit the road about 4.30pm after closing up shop at the earthship – pouring the contents of the piss bucket down gopher holes to keep them away from the house, watering the trees and flowers with our dirty dishwater, emptying the compost, and closing the windows and doors tight so no critters or rodents would get in to disturb the next guests.

Passed through Mountainair, a one street ‘town’ with some retro facades painted for a film about George Hamilton (so I was informed by a local resident leaning over his balcony wondering whether I was a location scout as I snapped some photos), and then followed the straight (very straight) HWY 41 up to Santa Fe (our route was HWY 60-41-285-25). I’d found an address for an Emaho Montoya on the internet, and not being able to reach him by phone, it’s where we headed upon arriving: fortunately it proved to be correct (though we had some doubts when we couldn’t find his house number at first, and were greeted at the door by a tall white 20-something). It turns out that lots of people are always staying at Emaho’s (mostly Swiss and Germans), and there’s a steady circulation of beds and linens.

Stefan was getting going on dinner when we arrived, and Emaho took us on a tour of his lovely expansive double-kiva’ed adobe on two levels plus roof-terrace. He’d bought it in 1996, hoping to move in with his two sons, but due to the illness of his eldest (caused by ground water poisoning while an infant) didn’t move in until 2002 or 03. His sons are now 29 and 27, the elder being taken care of by the state of California, the younger having graduated in math from UC Berkeley and in line for a job at Google. Emaho pointed out his ‘god’ – a wooden figurine of a (Santa Cruz) surfer, ‘riding the waves of life’ – and simultaneously he has an affinity for high-quality design and technology (much of it German). The duvee on my bed is of the lightest down, the washing machine is Bosch, the vacuum cleaner Miele. His ‘toys’ are a telescope and a microscope, and there are several flat screens around the house.

Emaho had mentioned ‘altitude sickness’ afflicting visitors to Santa Fe, which I discounted as the town is at just a little over 2000m – but I was feeling tired and head-achy and disinclined to face the throng of Europeans in the kitchen.

We joined for a dinner feast (do they eat like this every night??) – salmon-fennel-mango-leek casserole, and home-cut fries, and salad, for 15 people. There’s Andrea (Swiss-German) & Michael (Scottish-Dutch) who live down the road and ‘house sit’ for Emaho, Verbena and Stefan (German) who run a natural materials building company and are here for a month’s holiday, Tina (German) who is an elementary school teacher and has been here for 9 weeks – leaving in one more, Blond (name?) (Swiss) who lives in Santa Fe in a converted barn (she had to get over imagining she was smelling animals), Michael (Canadian) who is an aspiring opera singer and is leaving tomorrow to head back to Vancouver, Michael (American) and young girl (name? Swiss) who went on a 4hr motorcycle ride today and got royally sun-burned, Barbara who appeared briefly and showed off the bruises she’d gotten being pitched by her horse into a gatepost…all friendly but not querulous in a group, though animated 2-on-2 in German, so it might be a language thing (or a strangers-induced thing).

Really lovely to be here, yet another beautiful place, yet more generous and welcoming people.

Albuquerque's 19 Pueblos Museum & Earthship in Mountainair

Sunday, Sept 5th

I'm writing from deep inside an earthship, encased within walls of tires packed with soil and tin cans mortared with cement. But you wouldn't be able to tell if you didn't know -- it feels on the inside like a spacious adobe, with organically curving walls dividing the space and white-washed pine wood ceilings. There's a composting toilet and a solar shower in the bathroom; cold water and gas burners in the kitchen; and electricity throughout.

Jo Sage learned from the master -- Michael Reynolds in Taos -- and has spent the last 20 years gradually expanding her home and building two more earthships on this property down an unpaved road off of HWY 47, which connects Bevel (?) with Mountainair.

This is where artists in residence under the auspices of The Land/An Art Site gallery (see yesterday's blog) reside while developing their outdoor projects on the gallery's piece of land down the road a mile or so. Edite & Tom, the co-founders of the gallery, thought we'd be interested in seeing The Land and graciously suggested we stay overnight in one of the earthships. What a fabulous co-incidence / confluence of events; what blessed generosity.

+++++

Awoke 7am - Motel 6. Tea & granola. Phone calls (Basia success), contact lists, photo downloads and backups. Dip in the 3 1/2 foot3 pool (so tiny). WalMart for staples like English Breakfast Tea. Lunch Panda Express. Wrangled with freeway on-off ramps some more; poor signage. / Afternoon (2-4.30pm) at 19 Pueblo Museum. Dance performance outdoors -- 'caller' and his 2 sons (2yrs & 9yrs) and pairs of mature dancers. Pity the 'Buffalo Dance' performers, all suited up in 100F heat. Upstairs exhibit of pots (recently made) and woven blankets; also special exhibit of the pueblo saints. Downstairs each of the 19 had a display case of it's own. Interesting 20min film on Maria Martinez (?) Who revived and perfected certain techniques, creating (among other designs) a line of luscious shiny-and-matt black pots with exceptionally fine shallow carvings. / Wren finally got Emaho (Healer, and Santa Fe contact) on the line, and we need to get up there pronto as he's leaving for another European tour on Wednesday. Got some stud ear-rings in the shop. / Drove down to Mountainair (25-60-47), stopping at the Lowe's in Bevel (?) for some groceries and bottled Texas municipal water (...at least they're honest...). Bumped down the overgrown lane, due West and blinded by the late afternon sun. Stopped by The Land and saw a car but no Jeffrey or Larry. Arrived at Jo Sage's around 6.30pm and she had us sign a waiver, then showed us 'round. / Beer and salsa on our 'front porch' overlooking an endless expanse of red earth and scrub to a pink and orange horizon. Spaghetti for dinner. / Amazed and grateful.
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Quemado and Albuquerque

Sat, Sept 4th

A great day -- starting with a hike around Lake Quemado and ending at Mary Ellen Long's opening at the Land/Art gallery in Albuquerque!

Hope you too are having a fabulous Labor Day weekend :)

Journal:
7am. Chilly! First night with sleeping bag zipped all the way up. Hot tea. Grapefruit. Applesauce and granola. Thuya tree scent reminds Wren of natural veruca treatment. / Drove down to Lake. When Wren realized it was just a 3hr drive to Albq, figured we had enough time to walk around the lake. Beautiful!! Such a diversity of wild flowers and grasses! And butterflies and grasshoppers (and grasshopper-butterflies) and birds! Took lots of photos in the golden morning light. Lots of folks (men, women, families) out fishing; a few boats out on the water. / Drove back to Quemado around 11.45am and stopped in at the Dia Art Foundation office, down the (only) street from the (only) diner and (only) gas station in 'town', third in a short row of two storied buildings, and the only one that didn't look entirely abandoned. Stepped into a bare room with wood floor, a semi-circle of heavy wood chairs, and some magazines on the window sill. Claire Harrison, an English late twenty something artist (and baker) from Kent-Essex-Cornwall, was sitting there waiting for the 2.30pm pick-up for the $150 visit to Walter De Maria's Lightning Field. We got talking, and carried our conversation down to the diner. Two men there had worked at the LF -- and recommended going, though clarified for us that the 400 stainless steel poles were not intended to be struck by lightning; they just looked esp good in the glow of lighting. But they also look pretty good at sunset and sunrise. At 2pm we returned to the Dia waiting room and took leave of Claire as several well-heeled visitors arrived in a Ford Mustang with Califiornia plates. / Continued to Albq on HWYs 36-117-40, and got my first speeding ticket. Remembered (belatedly) that Athena Steen had warned us NM was crawling with traffic cops (whereas you never see any in AZ). / Took exit 155 in Albq, where the budget motels are clustered, and plumped for the Motel 6 after the manager offered us a discount. / Freshened up then continued to Exit 159A and Granite Avenue, to the Land/Art Gallery, in what looked like a family home on an entirely residential street. The neighbor one block down had no inkling of its existence. Were greeted by Mary Ellen, blue eyes framed by a white bob, glass of red wine in hand, who was thrilled to meet Wren in person ("This is an email" she exclaimed to her husband Wendell). Met Edite and Tom, co-founders of the gallery; Gail, who is an artist and organizes art tours -- lastly to Japan in 2008; Jeffrey, a friend of Edite's; and Brock, who'd worked with Tom in some scientist-inventor capacity, and who's also been an artist-in-residence at the Gallery's outdoor 'studio' at Mountain Air. All very interested in us and very welcoming. Upshot is that we've been invited to check out -- and spend the night at -- the off-grid earthship at Mountain Air tomorrow night. / Brock recommended three eateries on Central, the buzzing (and congested) restaurant strip just a few blocks away from the gallery, and we had dinner at the Standard Diner, which had much better food than the name suggests -- shared a meal-sized beet-pecan-blue cheese salad, and had the salmon with chard and butternut squash while Wren feasted on seared tuna. / Getting home we drove around for 1/2hr in confusion when the exit dropped us on the wrong side of the freeway from our motel.
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Silver City

A 'catch-up' day -- washed hair and did laundry at the Motel 6, then made for the wifi connection at the Javelina Cafe on Bullard Street. The prices in this town are steeper than SF -- $4.25 for a medium latte, and it took a nudge before the stale bagels were marked down from $3 to $2 (each). It's got something of Flagstaff about it -- a bit of architectural charm left over from some boom or other in the late 1800's, a sense of itself as a Center of Art (knock off pueblo pots, lotsa jewelry and 'antiques', Mexican crafts from across the border)... and inflated prices. It is a proper town though, that must be said, and those seem to be thin on the ground in southern New Mexico. Excavated our receipts and did our accounts, and I booked my onward air travel for late September. Had some grilled bread (pizza, panini) back at Diane's (where we had dinner last night) around 5pm, picked up some groceries next door at the Food Coop, and hit the road as the light was turning golden. Took 180 West and North through the Gila National Park, passing Cat Walk (where we'd originally planned to camp) as dusk was falling, and decided to push on in something of a new-found panic about missing Mary Ellen's art opening at the Land Gallery in Albuquerque tomorrow evening.

I'm writing from a greasy diner in Quemado where Wren's hunger has overtaken her. We missed the 'local' campground 15 miles back, so we have some driving and tent pitching yet ahead of us.
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Gila Cliff Dwellings

Six or seven caves tucked into the cliff face, accessible along a path that climbs up from the (mini) canyon floor over about 1/2 mile. Some walls built in (defining kiva, kitchen, living area), some soot on the ceiling (above cooking areas), some traces of ureac (?) acid (where animal hides were tanned). Inhabited from approx 1280 to 1300, during a drought period. The setting is beautiful, and the caves were nice and cool on a 95F day.

Filled out the booklet to become a Junior Ranger, and another to become a Senior Ranger -- and earned a couple of gold (plastic) badges and patches (to sew on our backpacks). All the national parks have this program -- check it out next time you visit one, with or without kids in tow :)

Stopped by the hotsprings to grill some cheese sandwiches and take a short nap on the beach.

Carried on through the Gila Wilderness on HWY 15 (lovely green windy scenic route) to Silver City. Booked in to the Motel 6, and drove down to Bullard Street (which seems to be the main drag in town) for a green Thai seafood curry at Diane's.
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Gila Hot Springs

We made it! We managed to extract ourselves from Hillsboro, and were soaking in one of the three hot pools at Gila Ranch before the sun went down! And what a beautiful drive it was up the winding road over Emory Pass, through the green mountain forest, and down the far ridge to the Gila River -- and we had the road to ourselves. Unlike California hot springs, which are the product of current low-grade volcanic activity and tend to be sulfurous, Gila's hot water starts out as cold snow melt and seeps through fissures caused by volcanic activity millions of years ago, gaining 1 degree F for every 100 feet down it runs. This heated water then re-surges (where and why does it come back to the surface?) In springs, some of them in the middle of the river.

+ + + +

Woke up at 3am (in Hillsboro) and the 2/3 moon and all the stars lit up our garden patch so brightly!

Awoke for the day at 7.30am, and 12 buzzards were roosting in the tall trees across the road, spreading their wings to warm them in the morning sun. The datura flowers (poisonous, but beautiful like calla lilies) were open and white and elegant. By noon the blooms have wilted in the sun, and the new blooms are still tightly furled in green leaves. Walked down the street and took photos of the historic markers and trailer homes and cafes that are Hillsboro.

Jim made us coffee and tea, and heated water for us to sponge-bathe with - Wren secluded behind the art building, and me in the yard 'round the corner of the house next door.

Jim is such a fine story-teller, we wanted to capture a bit of him on film, and video'ed him telling the story of how he came to move to Hillsboro, New Mexico from Montecello, Minnesota.

Betty, a lady in her late 80's who Jim's befriended, picked him up at 10am to drive him to T or C for his dentist appointment, to pick up groceries, and run sundry errands.

I called Mom, who'd just emailed to say the movers had been and gone in Rijswijk. My heart aches.

Had brunch with Wren at Lynne Nusom's cafe 'in town.' Roger was there doing the NYT crossword, and we joined him at his table. Also met Embree Hale as we approached the cafe, a short old swaggering miner-turned-photographer, wearing a cowboy hat and boots and a loud shirt. Completely deaf in one ear, he didn't hesitate to make up for it by taking us in by the eyeful. Lynne Nusom is a recognized chef (apparently) with six or so cookbooks to his name, and a weekly food column in several papers. He's an old man now, tall with a white beard and white socks up to his knee-length shorts, but still serving and communing with customers. He said he'd been 'in Hollywood' back in the day and thrown parties (including cooking the food) for tens of thousands of people.

Embree walked us down the street when we left, as far as his pickup truck, taking the opportunity to introduce us to his flighty female husky with the palest blue eyes you've ever seen. There's a film that's been made about him and his work photographing local petroglyphs, 'In place, out of time.'

We stopped in at the artists collective store, five rooms in an old bungalow displaying originals of all kinds for sale, from quite craftsy (arty kitchen hot hands, quilted hearts and crosses), to quite sophisticated (ceramics and metalwork and photographs and paintings). Testament to the creative souls Hillsboro attracts. The town (still) doesn't have a grocery store of any kind, however.
1pm already, and Jim was back from T or C, so we got to say goodbye all over again. We've felt like family these past few days, and we're going to miss him. His sharing of his manifold interests, with a mixture of humor and excitement; the creative solutions he's conjured up and skills he's developed in response to the 'problems' (more like puzzles) he's encountered; his helpfulness /good deeds for the day (so I can go to bed knowing I've done something good); how he welcomes and reaches out to everyone who crosses his path.
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Leaving Hillsboro

Well, it's almost 2pm and we haven't left quite yet, so you never know... But the car is packed up and the intention is to soak in some hot springs in the Gila range this afternoon, and visit some cliff dwellings up Mimbres way.

We'll miss Jim and his multitudes of stories and his warm hospitality...but must move on...

I expect I won't have a signal for a day or two. Laters.
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