On my way to Santa Fe. Last year it was Denver, Neal Cassidy’s town. Now, I fly from Denver to Santa Fe, David Ossman’s town. OK, he wasn’t there long and it was 40 years ago, but his poems from Santa Fe define the destination. I arrive in its tiny airport after 10 when the town has basically shut down. I get an Expensive taxi to my hotel, Coyote South, which is quite nice. On the way, my taxi passes a gas station called Speedway. Is that the origin of Micky Speedway’s character name in Ossman’s play New Mexican Overdrive, which is partially set in Santa Fe?
The breakfast burrito is excellent. Probably my only Santa Fe meal with the real taste of Santa Fe. No chilies for me, please. I last had a burrito when I was in high school. I graduated in 1968. That’s a long time ago. It was tasty and filling. I would be doing a lot of walking today so needed the fuel.
My first venture into the vastness of Santa Fe art is the immense art gallery called The Round House, which moonlights as the state legislature. It is so verdant, compared to the rest of the bleached city.
I had just watched a Great Course called Visual Literacy Skills from the Great Courses series from the local library, with Professor Carrie Patterson and am glad I did. It helped me appreciate, for example, the textiles on display as I first walked in. Quilts? Not sure what all material employed was but the images are stunning. I was particularly moved by the image of a mule, which seems an iconic animal in this area. Old Mexico too.
I have vague memories of being in my parents car as they drove through Mexico in the early 50s, and stopped to film a man leading a mule. I hadn’t thought of that in 70 or so years. Thanks, mule image in Santa Fe. Art is like that. It kicks you into imagery from your past, almost algorithmically. Wandering through the vast round building, there is beauty everywhere, from the ceiling to the garage. I love how Santa Fe trumpets its art. The city different indeed. If only Canada was as intense in promoting its artists. As usual (because I reek of oldness?) people are super nice to me, just like in Spain and Denver. A man asks me if I wish to see the secretary of state. I just happened to be walking by his office. I tell him I’m just in search of art. It is still early enough for morning light, which is revelatory in the annex one enters through the garage.
The reflections on the arty photography of Soledad Marjon is the highlight of the morning. Pun intended. Go there in the morning, eh?
I have some difficulty finding my Lyft but eventually, I’m on the road to Museum Hill to see its Folk Art Museum and the Museum of Indian arts and Cultures. At the folk art place, I’m greeted by an exhibit of Ukrainian art made after the 2022 invasion. Bullets and shell casings turned into art. Stunning.
have never felt prouder of my Ukrainian heritage. The passage about emerging greenery I read earlier is from Vishyvanyi, the King of Ukraine by Serhiy Zhadan. I’m just guessing at the pronunciations of these names) The rest of the museum has too many dolls, for my taste. An entire miniature village. Was it the original Santa Fe? I’m into miniatures these days, because of another project inspired by the Bruegels I saw at the Prado, but this doesn’t inspire me. Then a walk across the increasingly hot space into the Indian Museum. More great art.
As I leave Museum Hill, a couple of guys just arriving, asks me which is the best? I recommend the Folk place first, but tell them to see them both. Mostly its the Ukrainian exhibit, but that’s more personal than aesthetic. Santa Fe is quite spread out. I have lunch reservations at tapas place La Boca. They have cidre on their menu, Steelbender cidre from Los Ranchos de Albuquerque) but I’m brought a beer instead. Not a fan of beer. Thankfully it’s replaced. An intensely tasty tuna dish: Yellow-fin tuna, roasted red pepper-green olive pipperade) However, as it cools, it also heats up. The hidden spices (chilies?) appear. Bummer. Some good jazz on the sound system though and the cold cidre mitigates the increasingly painful tuna from hell. I’ll order something else tomorrow. I ask directions to the Georgia O’Keeffe museum. It appears close on my phone, but, I am a wizard at getting lost. It is not unpleasant to do in this city. Just saw a French documentary on O’Keeffe. Also, one of my various magazine e-subscriptions turned me on to her New York paintings. At the museum, I’m stunned by her image of a ram’s horn and the colour blue. Is turquoise so admired here because it reflects the New Mexican sky? My admiration for this painter is enhanced. The Museum has done its job.
Audio version of Part 1 of this story is here: https://s3.amazonaws.com/rfd-firesign/cat/santa_fe-1.mp3
A Lyft to SITE, which is, alas, closed today. Instead, I view some video art at the Art Vault and have a pleasant conversation with its curator.
When I tell her I’m here to see Meow Wolf (tomorrow morning), she tells me her son was an architect with MW and her friend was an original member. I sense this city has a deep connection with MW and is proud of that, and if MW is the reasons I came to Santa Fe, I’m surely not alone in that.
First Dinner at the 315 Wine Bar, a French restaurant when it opened at 430. I’m fond of French food in general but forgot what I ate there. It’s only a few days ago so it couldn’t be that memorable. After dinner I wandered around the plaza, with its store windows full of jewelry,
and as sunset approached, walked over to La Fonda to watch the sunset from its restaurant bar. The whole restaurant rose at sunset to take pix. It wasn’t that pretty. It was pleasing to the eye, but not wonderful.
I walked from there to Geronimo, at the end of Canyon Road. NOT a good idea. Long walk, and at dusk, there was less and less to see.
Food at Geronimo was exceptional. Great mushroom dish I was told the chef had just invented, and what I expect from halibut.
Then a Lyft over to Cidre bar for some very interesting cidre. Good chat with the bartender, who, not surprisingly, is also an artist.
Maybe it’s in the air. One of the best days of my life, after all these enjoyments. One of my Lyft drivers was listening to James Taylor sing the Tom Waits tune Shiver me Timbers. I am enchanted.
Could barely eat half the burrito on Thursday. My phone tells me I’m 18 minutes to the Entropy Gallery, where I had promised to meet its artist. My phone has misled me before. I get to a cross walk. I cross. The phone says I’m going the wrong way. I cross in the other direction. Same thing happens. I’m stuck at this crossroads for 10 minutes, with its intermittent traffic lights and I’m not Robert Johnson, though it’s getting hot enough to summon his business partner. Its getting hotter. The little blue dot finally allows me to continue in a direction. I meet the artist, Patrick Lysaght. A showroom full of wonderful new stuff, much space to create newer stuff, and a stage for music performances. I’m stunned at all he does, but I suspect this is a great place to be doing it. I’m rather dehydrated from my unexpected desert trek on streets where sidewalks seem aspirational. And this is around the corner from Meow Wolf? The artist gives me a cold bottle of water, and I revive. I continue on to MW as it is tapping into consciousness.
We’re warned against bringing big bags into MW. I’d brought a copy of Silverberg’s 500 page Valentine’s Castle and now a heavy water bottle. I’m relieved to discover they have lockers. While a woman in front of me had to unpack her bag, I was wanded through. I may enter with it, but prefer the locker. When I offer the fee, I’m given a free token. It’s my day in Santa Fe! And I thought yesterday couldn’t be beat.
We all walk into a neighbourhood at night and a house with a mystery. You can learn about it online. Not quite as involving as the Omega Mart corporate struggles, but interesting enough. It stars a hamster.
I’m basically here to see what they do with the visual world.
Folks in Denver, and elsewhere, told me this original MW was the best. And they have 2 new ones in Texas so the MW empire is spreading. Is it better than Vegas? No. It is on par with Denver. This kind of entertainment is multiplying,
Although there were lots of enjoyable rooms to wander through, at no point was I as overwhelmed with the visual displays as I was in Omega Mart. I heard other visitors say, reverently, that this the best things they’d ever seen, but I felt that at OM.
I have too much to compare Santa Fe MW with, not only its offspring but Disneyland and the Worlds Fairs. The world is getting increasingly filled with theses entertainments. One of the best I’ve seen is the Velasquez Tech Museum in Madrid. Yayoi’s Infinity Rooms are in this category.
I could not get low enough to crawl into the washing machine or the fireplace so maybe I missed something really cool, but I suspect not. My young grand kids would enjoy it. It was asking too much of me.
Go to Santa Fe. See it’s Meow Wolf. I go in at a little after 11. Had a lunch reservation at La Boca at 1:15, By 12, I’m thinking, I wonder if I can go to La Boca early, Thankfully, I can.
Some great jazz on their sound system again. The shrimp this time, and no mistakes with the cidre. Still too hot for my tastes, but not sadistically so (that is saved for outdoors). Cider performs it appropriate mitigation. I find the State Art Museum easily and appreciate its refuge from the heat, but little within, except the reflections from the windows onto the floor.
SITE is open today, thankfully. It is much fun. An engineer/photographer figured out how to make a camera lens out of ice and the pictures he made with it are delightful.
This whole town seems to throb with art. Great stuff at the Vladem Gallery, on the same ticket as the New Mexico museum i just visited. SF is very good at combining museums for a decent price, for the convenience of their visitors.
There is a Cocteau connection with Ossman, which I explored on the 2024 Vegas post and collage. Had to go the Cocteau Theatre. I’m asked if I am here for the movie, or the bar. I tell him the bar. It is more a suggestion of a bar. I discover yellow wine. Sounds daunting, but it is refreshing.
Over to Martin (pronounced Martine). I’m a bit early and stuck out in the sun unpleasantly. Their special of the day was Baramundi. I know I’ve had this fish, but have no memory of it. If it’s their special, it’ll probably be good. It is.
Sunset from the Coyote Bar, Love the mural. Sunset much better this time, thanks to the helpful clouds.
I don’t make the mistake of walking to Geronimo again. There was some good art in the lighted windows last night, but it was exhausting. It did give me a good appetite.
I could enjoy their new special mushroom dish And the halibut. That was yesterday. Today I’m ushered to the same seat at the bar. Have the same excellent mushroom special.
I wouldn’t say As good, but it has not fallen off a precipitously as many follow up meals in far too many restaurants.
Not as successful today as yesterday, but would probably be impossible. Met a very inspiring artist. Got some pleasure from Meow Wolf. Ate well. Saw lots of eye-delighting art, and thrilled in a city that is so convivial to the artistic spirit, in its many manifestations.
When I entered Coyote South on Tuesday night, I was struck by the large painting of a coyote knocking over a jar and letting stars come out.
Just as I was checking out, above the front desk there is an explanation of the painting:
At the beginning of time, all creatures gathered around a jar of stars to create the night sky. Coyote was very curious at the process, but Our Mother, knowing the crafty trickster he is, turned to him and said “do not make mischief here.” However, when no one was looking, coyote lifted the lid to take a peek and all the stars rushed out. And spilled haphazardly into the sky. Our mother scolded coyote, saying he would forever be a wanderer and cause mischief wherever he went for the rest of time.
I notice The Artist’s photo of the coloured flame in the airport waiting room, on my way home. As illustrated beautifully and explained in his film Fleeting Structure, https://www.entropygallery.com/film now on an airport wall. When I was growing up, my family always had a fireplace, wherever we lived. I remember throwing, perhaps powder? On burning logs to create coloured flames, just like these.
Art is everywhere here. It makes here a better here.
Audio of Part 2 of this blog (along with some appropriate tunes) is here: https://s3.amazonaws.com/rfd-firesign/cat/santa_fe-2.mp3