Once again, I am honored with a full show at the Museum of Northern Arizona. The show begins with a gala with all the trimmings on Summer Solstice. It is a place all artists sharing this universal language wish to be. I am humbled by this distinction and I know it is my stories of being an integral part of my land that brings me here. I gladly share these for my own spiritual growth as well as keeping my identity strong with the land I speak for in the name of Art. I titled the show Map of My Heart because that is what it attempts to explore—the mapping of place in physical geography and in the interior terrain of the soul. The mapping is purely from a place of memory, from the playgrounds of childhood, to the dancehall of shadows and eventually to the newness of the rediscovery of my personal truth; the metaphorical umbilical cord that is buried deep and shared in love. I wish you all an opportunity to view this body of work.
Suspending myself mentally above the land I call home, just east of the canyon of Shonto and below the looming and benevolent Black Mesa, I soar between shadows of storm clouds and shafts of sunbeams. The thirsty land is beaded with turquoise where water catches and newly filled stock ponds. I must know each one of them intimately, as Water is Life. The colors are brilliant as the storm has just washed the dust off each hardy petal and bough of my rooted kin. The land below is dynamic, undulating in the deep shadows of the pregnant storm clouds of summer.
There is a painting, sharing the name of the exhibition and illustrating the vision clearly. It is from a memory so profound when I was a young shepherd. I created this purely from the senses. Every water pocket, every game trail and worn road connecting family is known. Each sandstone slick rock and outcropping as well as the sage flats and sand dunes is given a space. This near abstract piece has been revealing to me as well. A face appears and recedes in the painting. A fetus is tethered forever to the land. My mother’s hogan is central to the scene. Other’s eyes have revealed this to me.
Like a drone on high, I look down on my memory walk. With each stroke of the paintbrush, I draw back to those primal recollections, tender, heartbreaking and joyous. I give it a dab of my focused attention and follow from the foot of Black Mesa to the East, where the BMLP railroad tracks and U.S. 160 run parallel to one another to the West, where the graded road winds its sandy way to Shonto Trading Post in the canyon. The land I see from above is a wondrous tapestry of sand dunes and sage flats. The pinyon and juniper forest and red sandstone monuments are studded with dapples of wildflowers and the emerald reflections of fresh ponds. I see my mother’s hogan and the worn grounds where my heart always is. The tentacles of dirt roads spread from her hogan like the arteries that carry my blood—they connect the spots where some of my brothers and sister have homes sites. The only geometry I see readily from above is the shapes of cornfields.
I go into this show with a keen knowledge of my land, its stories and my own history; knowledge retained and maintained with a constant connection with her. I go into this show grateful that it gave me an opportunity to revisit the land: the geography of my peace.
My elders used to sit and speak of their lives through the movements of their hands. Hardened and calloused hands were illuminated in the late glow of the campfire. The spirals of the fingertips, the moonrise of the nails and thick veins. The hands illustrated the mappings of their life stories. One hand tapped and moved across the other as an illustration in a story with a place. The light and the deep shadows played upon their faces as expressions of mirth amplified their stories. I believe it is those faces some see in the titled work.
More than a few times I have encouraged young Dineh’ youths to go out into the broader world and to find a perch from which to view themselves, their people and the land through the lens they were born with. I find in my own life’s explorations of youth that it helped me a great deal in composing again my world and my part within it. I gained new appreciation and insights into my own life. I revisit my homeland from above the storm clouds, with a fresh palette and stronger connections to her.
This is my attempt always as an artist, to remain alive in my work. It is life that gives you enough inspiration and reasons for being a part of it, passionately. Art Saves Lives!
