In 1862, my people were rounded up and forced to walk over 450 miles to Bosque Redondo, near Ft. Sumner, N.M. This was Manifest Destiny in its glorious and ugly expansion with no regard to the preceding culture. There were four different routes that brought 9,000 prisoners eventually. Hundreds died along the trail. In 1865, the Bosque was the most...
Read MoreAt home on earth; Meditations on returning to one’s source
Now that I have seen 57 winters, I know I have fewer winters to feel. I feel more connected than ever before to that ground that holds my umbilical cord, as well as my childrens’. I can never sever my tether there … and here. Every week I see my mother’s face, and upon her face, all will read clearly, “I am happy, my son, I am light of grief seeing you...
Read MoreBreaking Through My Horizon; A hitchhiker’s lost diary
On that very hot and dusty summers day in 1972, I held out my thumb an willed and old Chevy truck to a stop. “Haa nizaa goh?” (How far?) “A’ayiddi ji’, Cowsprings Ji.” (A short way, just to Cowsprings.) It was a brief ride but it was progress nonetheless. I had walked out that morning from my sheepcamp four and a half miles off U.S. 160 that courses...
Read MoreFear no art; Icon and controversy
It has been over 10 years since I created a stir in my community with my art. I want to revisit this tempest not out of any residual angst, but to further educate the viewing public. Fortunately for me, most of my viewing public is made up of sophisticated consumers. But for those not familiar with this event, here it is … again. Three months into an...
Read MoreSpring messenger; Connections though contact
Spring is finally here again. The long winter’s slumber once again is awakened by squawking pinyon jays. The red earth once again dominates as winter’s lace of ice recedes. Sheepcamps are alive with bleatings of newborn lambs and kids. The moon of “the stirring of the seedlings” is steeped in Mother Earth. Cornfields are ready to receive this year’s crop....
Read More