This page contains a Flash digital edition of a book.
ART APPRECIATION Clockwise from left: The Railyard Arts District is home to galleries, markets and more than a few colorful characters; a sunny day at Nedra Matteucci Galleries; sunset at the open-air Santa Fe Opera House.


“Just hope you don’t get a corner,” Whitney said as we sped east of town in his rickety Volvo


station wagon, the foothills of the Sangre de Cristo blurring the windshield. It was early April, in the early aughts, and we were heading to Ribera, New Mexico, a small community of artists, ranchers and farmers southeast of Santa Fe, to help our friend Eric clean the acequia he uses to irrigate his small farm.


As with the hundreds of other acequias in northern


Mexico, Ribera’s community-operated watercourse was originally dug in the 1700s when the Spanish fi rst started farming in the area. Once a year, the 30 or so families who share the acequia, which diverts water from the nearby Pecos River, get together to give it a spring-cleaning. The more friends every member of the acequia persuaded to pitch in and help purge the previous season’s detritus, the less they’d have to pay in water taxes that year. The process is pretty simple: The acequia is several


feet wide, and about 4 serpentine miles long, and we’d tack le it one 10-or-so-foot-long stick section at a time. The majordomo, or ditch boss, walks the acequia with his stick, counting off segments. Everyone would clean his and her


designated section, and the whole thing would repeat. If the majordomo happened to assign you a corner, or any kind of bend in the acequia, where silt and debris were more likely to build up, Whitney explained, you were going to get a little dirtier. More than a decade later, my most vivid


memory is of endless shoveling and insa- tiable thirst. And fi ne New Mexican dirt everywhere — under my nails, in my trail running shoes, caked to the insides of my


ears. It took me a few days to scrub it all away, but in many ways, it’s been a part of me of ever since. Although Santa Fe is one of the oldest cities in America,


fi rst occupied around the end of the 10th century, a lot of us have washed up here more recently. We usually blow in from the East, and often a passing glimpse is all it takes — a long weekend visiting an old friend, an impromptu stopover during a road trip. A knot comes loose, a subtle but noticeable shift deep in the psyche. “Touch the country,” D.H. Lawrence once wrote of New Mexico, “and you will never be the same again.” Later, on a whim, or the whisper of a job off er, we’ll move to town. After a year or two we’ll get pulled away by other opportunities, but always seem to fi nd ourselves magnetically drawn back.


74 DORADO • JULY/AUGUST 2015


CLOCKWISE FROM TOP LEFT: JEN JUDGE; GABRIELLA MARKS; ROBERT GODWIN FOR THE SANTA FE OPERA. OPPOSITE: MICHAEL CLARK.


Page 1  |  Page 2  |  Page 3  |  Page 4  |  Page 5  |  Page 6  |  Page 7  |  Page 8  |  Page 9  |  Page 10  |  Page 11  |  Page 12  |  Page 13  |  Page 14  |  Page 15  |  Page 16  |  Page 17  |  Page 18  |  Page 19  |  Page 20  |  Page 21  |  Page 22  |  Page 23  |  Page 24  |  Page 25  |  Page 26  |  Page 27  |  Page 28  |  Page 29  |  Page 30  |  Page 31  |  Page 32  |  Page 33  |  Page 34  |  Page 35  |  Page 36  |  Page 37  |  Page 38  |  Page 39  |  Page 40  |  Page 41  |  Page 42  |  Page 43  |  Page 44  |  Page 45  |  Page 46  |  Page 47  |  Page 48  |  Page 49  |  Page 50  |  Page 51  |  Page 52  |  Page 53  |  Page 54  |  Page 55  |  Page 56  |  Page 57  |  Page 58  |  Page 59  |  Page 60  |  Page 61  |  Page 62  |  Page 63  |  Page 64  |  Page 65  |  Page 66  |  Page 67  |  Page 68  |  Page 69  |  Page 70  |  Page 71  |  Page 72  |  Page 73  |  Page 74  |  Page 75  |  Page 76  |  Page 77  |  Page 78  |  Page 79  |  Page 80  |  Page 81  |  Page 82  |  Page 83  |  Page 84