A quick glance at my colorful mariachi hat collection can lift me from a gloomy November Sunday afternoon funk and into a mariachi state of mind. Mariachi and norteño music travels that thin divide between melancholy and fist-pumping elation. The staccato notes of trumpets go straight to the empty places while the accordion notes cajole you to live in full...
Read MoreFrom the bottom; Redrawing the map of creative life
Last summer we suffered a large water leak that went unsuspected until a catastrophically expensive water bill showed up in our mailbox. Much later we discovered dampness in our crawlspace, where I stored my old art portfolios. The “greatest hits” of my entire artistic life were in various states of moldy ruin. As I sifted through the devastation, I saw...
Read MoreChoosing your battles; The smoking mushroom of hope
As our mountain summer dances with autumn, I cling to the fleeting glory of the rain-soaked San Francisco Peaks. I revel in the details—of lichen, flower petals and recently, the taxonomy of fungi. One day spent crawling around the forest studying mushrooms opens a fantasy world not unlike the one Alice found in Wonderland. Smoking cup mushrooms command...
Read MoreMaps to place; Stories bring landscapes alive
“It is not down on any map; true places never are.” –Herman Melville, “Moby-Dick” I have always been drawn to maps. The swirling topographic lines over miles of the Earth’s surface grant me the rare insight of a soaring hawk. I have a habit of collecting maps of places I would like to go. I study the folds of ridges and the names of distant mountain...
Read MoreA Song For Chihuahua; Familia on the side
My sister and I climbed into the Quezada and Sons shuttle headed to Casas Grandes, Chihuahua. The 15-passenger van was full of people heading home, and we were the last to board. Nobody flinched as we clambered into the back seat and wedged ourselves between the big shopping bags and a strapping older Mexican man. We were the only gringos on the van and at...
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