As Sinclair Lewis did not say, “When fascism comes to America it will be wrapped in the flag and carrying a cross.”
I was strolling down the street to fetch a pizza yesterday, and for some reason this struck me:
I thought to myself, “Why is the Baptist church flying an American flag?”
Let me be clear: I was raised in that bathwater, so I know that the flag/patriotism/jingoism has long been an item of worship there.
And since I was raised in that bathwater, I also know that the origins of the Baptist faith, indeed of Christianity in this country, would teach that the church owes no allegiance to the government. Their authority does not derive from the government, nor should they seek the imprimatur of any earthly power.
But they do. Especially since the 1970s/80s, Christianists in this country have been increasingly strident about how they and the U.S. government are one — or should be. They want laws that protect them — and only them — or that push their “morality” onto the rest of the population.
And now, with the Current Embarrassment, they find themselves in an appalling bind, tied to a man whose lack of morality is entire and whom they must continue to endorse and wink at if they want to continue to cling to power. For that is what this is all about: they fly an American flag because they see no distinction between themselves and the government. They want the power to dictate their rules to the rest of us. They reject the notion that they are only one part of a diverse nation: they are America, the real America.
Then they express bafflement when the rest of us describe them as bigots and racists, cruel in ways that would appall any truly devout person of any faith, exclusive and prohibitory, unkind, ungenerous, and fascist.
If you’re a church-goer, before you object that your congregation is not like that, that your gang is Christ-like, I ask you: do you fly the American flag? Is it, like the Baptist example above, above the “Christian flag”? Why is that? Yes, it’s the official flag code that the U.S. flag flies on top, but what have you to do with the official flag code? “Render unto Caesar…”? I’m not sure that Christ meant your allegiance.
Here’s an article about the GOP infighting over bringing immigration bills to the floor for a vote. Go read it.
Apparently, it’s just short of open rebellion for representatives to petition for discharge, i.e., override the leadership’s agenda, which apparently in this case is to let the bills die in committee so that the Republicans won’t have to be seen voting to be incredibly cruel to humans — which would please their base but outrage the average voter, here in the year of our lord Midterms. Indeed, why bring it to a vote when the current administration is doing a bang-up job being incredibly cruel to humans all on its own?
Here’s the quote that makes me shake my head with disgust:
“It would be an approach that would rely on mostly Democratic votes and some Republicans to pass their bill,” Scalise said, “and that’s not the way to solve this problem.”
Let’s be clear about what Rep. Scalise is saying here: we shouldn’t be trying to pass legislation — or even vote on it — using votes from both parties. We shouldn’t try to pass laws using a majority of votes from the entire House of Representatives. Laws cannot be passed with the votes of the people representing all the citizens of the United States. “That’s not the way to solve this problem.”
There are other versions of this gobbledygook all the way up and down the article: “the importance of keeping control of the legislative vehicle and solving the problem on our terms where we focus on solutions, not politics” (because passing the bills is not a solution?); “I think it’s better to use the legislative process” (which apparently does not necessarily include bringing bills to the floor for a vote); “I don’t believe in discharge petitions” (from Steve King, who probably has done a lot to keep any of the bills from being voted on).
It’s all well and good to decry our system as broken and to point fingers at both sides, but at the moment there’s only one party in charge of both chambers of Congress, and this is their attitude towards governing: if we can’t get a bill passed with just our votes, then it’s not going to pass. They even have a name for it, the Hastert Rule, and if you think “both sides do it,” click on that link and have someone read the first sentence for you.
Naked, obscene lust for power. That’s my name for it. Your mileage may vary.
The other day there was a tweet that led to an article about THE MAP THAT CONVINCED LINCOLN TO FREE THE SLAVES, and even without clicking on the link I knew what map they were talking about:
— click for original in new tab, and keep it open so you can refer to it—
I had stumbled across this map in the Library of Congress’s online files several years ago, and I used it to develop a lesson for 5th graders on how to read primary source documents.
For the lesson, I came up with the following chart:
Levels of Understanding Primary Source Documents
I.
Literal level
What is this document? What does it say? What do the words mean?
II.
Connections level
What is the historical context of this document? What other documents/events/ideas are connected to it?
III.
Meanings level
Why did this document exist? Who created it and why? What is its meaning? What was its meaning to those who created it?
IV.
Interpretations level
Can I create a product of my own that comes from the same literal/connections/meanings as the document?
I printed up enough copies of the map for every two students to have one; I had a large format printer, so they got something close to the original size. Then we started.
I. Literal level
We read the words on the map and talked about what the map was. We looked at the date of publication (1861). We looked at the text at the top:
We looked at the scale:
We found Coweta County on the map:
We talked about the number in Coweta County: 49.4% of the county’s population was slaves.
We discussed what the Census was.
I remember asking them whether it looked as if the slave population were evenly distributed across the south, and they were quick to say no. When I asked if they could explain the patterns of light and dark, they immediately told me that it was pretty clear that the heaviest slave populations were where cotton and rice were grown, i.e., plantations. I was impressed.
II. Connections level
Next I asked them to tell me what they knew about the U.S. in 1861: the nation was at war, the Confederacy vs. the Union. The Union was not doing well in battle; the war was not popular. Abraham Lincoln was President. The South was largely rural/agricultural, and much of that was supported by slavery.
I showed them Article I, Section 2, Clause 3 of the Constitution:
Representatives and direct Taxes shall be apportioned among the several States which may be included within this Union, according to their respective Numbers, which shall be determined by adding to the whole Number of free Persons, including those bound to Service for a Term of Years, and excluding Indians not taxed, three fifths of all other Persons.
We talked about the 3/5s Compromise and what that meant. I directed them to the computers — I ran a 21st century media center — where I had prepared a HyperCard stack for them to use the census data to calculate how many congressional representatives each southern state got based on their free populations as well as “all other Persons.” (We discovered that the southern states gained an extra25 representatives based on a population who could not vote and who were not actually citizens.)
III. Meanings level
The crux of the matter: why did this map exist?
Part of the answer is the piece at the top about the map being sold to support the sick and wounded soldiers of the U.S. — it was an appeal to patriotism, underscored by the title of the map: this was a map of the southern states of the United States. (Confederate States of America? Pfft.)
And by linking the reminder of sick and wounded soldiers to the southern states, the map was driving home the point of the war: the southern states had seceded to protect their Peculiar Institution, an institution that had given them an unfair advantage in Congress since the drafting of the Constitution 75 years before.
Indeed, and I didn’t know this at the time of this lesson, Lincoln had used this map in his deliberations about the war and the Emancipation Proclamation, so much so that it was included in this painting of the “First Reading of the Emancipation Proclamation”:
IV. Interpretations level
Students were then given the following assignment:
Buy This Map!
Your task is to persuade a friend to buy one of these maps. You are a young person living in Philadelphia in 1861, and one morning in October you happen to be walking by H. Long & Brother Booksellers when you notice this map in the window. You immediately realize what the maps have to say about the reasons for the war, and you go in and buy one to support the war effort.
Now you want all your friends to buy one, too.
Write a letter to your friends to convince them of all the reasons they need to buy one of these maps. Instead of writing a letter, you may give a speech.
A good letter/speech will
• explain what the map tells you [Level I]
• explain the reasons for the war shown in the map [Level II]
• explain the connection between the Constitution’s “3⁄5 rule” and the map [Level II]
• explain what good the money will do [Level I]
• explain how the map made you feel and why you bought it [Level III]
Use the front and back of the next page to write your letter or to organize the notes for your speech.
Results were varied, as you might imagine; this is not an easy assignment, to translate all the things we learned into a personal narrative. But it’s the kind of assignment that schools should have been doing and should be doing: it’s not just a creative writing exercise, it’s an assessment. The student demonstrates what he/she understands about the map in a rather complete way. Yes, I had an objective test that I gave students as well, but that was just a formative assessment to double-check their knowledge/understanding before they wrote the letter. Yes, the lesson took longer and was more involved than simply standing in front of a class and telling them what the map meant. But it allowed the learners to construct knowledge, and in my charter school that will be the name of the game.
By the way, this is what my 21st century media center looked like:
UPDATE: Since there’s been some interest in this post, I thought I should circle back and include the “checbric” we gave the students. (“Checbric” is one of those ugly coined terms from back in the day, a combination of “checklist” and “rubric.”)
Descriptions
Your letter/speech describes
____ when and where you bought the map
____ why you bought the map
____ why your friend (the reader) should buy the map
Descriptions
5 You’ve made the reader believe that this a real letter from a real person in 1861. You are utterly convincing with your reasons and personal details.
4 Your descriptions are often and sharp and complete, giving the reader details that make the letter come alive.
3 Your descriptions have enough details that the reader has no problem understanding who wrote this letter and why. Your arguments are convincing.
2 Your descriptions allow the reader to see that a person has written this letter, but there are not enough details for the reader to get an idea of who you are, and you don’t really convince the reader to buy a map.
1 Your descriptions are missing. The reader can’t tell who you are or what your reasons are for writing the letter.
Explanations
Your letter/speech contains an explanation of
____ what the map tells you
____ the reasons for the war shown on the map
____ the connection between the 3/5 rule and the map
Explanations
5 Your explanations are unusually thorough and inventive. They are fully supported and justified by evidence. They go beyond the information given in class.
4 You explanations are revealing and thorough. They are well-supported by evidence. You make subtle connections that we didn’t talk about in class.
3 Your explanations give some in-depth or personal ideas. You make the lesson your own, but you don’t use enough evidence to back up your explanations completely.
2 Your explanations were incomplete, even though you used some of what we learned. Your explanations only had limited evidence.
1 Your explanations are more descriptive than analytical. You give only a fragmentary or sketchy account of the facts.
Okay, Trump supporters, I need you to do this one little experiment. No, you don’t have to give up your belief that you’re Making America Great Again; you can peddle that little tricycle all you like. Just do this one thing.
Yesterday, the president*, speaking to reporters, railed against Robert Mueller’s investigative team, saying:
“So you have all these investigators; they’re Democrats. In all fairness, Bob Mueller worked for Obama for eight years.”
Is this true?
No.
Robert Mueller, for example, is a registered Republican. He was appointed by George W. Bush in 2001 to serve the 10-year term as head of the FBI; Barack Obama asked him to stay on, and he retired two years later in 2013.[1]
So there’s the one little thing I want you to do. Trump lied. He is telling you something that is not even close to true and is easily checked out.
What does that information mean to you?
No need to answer. Just file that away and remember this one simple little lie that Donald J. Trump told to you.[2]
UPDATE: (in case the above example is too slippery for you)
As everybody is aware, the past Administration has long been asking for three hostages to be released from a North Korean Labor camp, but to no avail. Stay tuned!
[1] Math is hard: he worked for Obama for a little over four years.
[2] You could also consider the attitude so embedded in Trump’s lie that I almost missed it: the idea that because Muller “worked for Obama for eight years” he is obviously personally loyal to Obama and therefore Trump’s enemy. It does not occur to Trump that although men and women like Mueller may serve throughout the Executive branch at the pleasure of the President, they do not actually work for the President. They work for the United States and its citizens.
Trump does not understand this concept in any way.
But I only asked you to do one little thing, so we’re good here.
Our nation’s relationship with immigrants has always been complicated and mostly mean. Sure, we put up the Statue of Liberty and inscribed a lovely, welcoming poem, but let us not forget that the statue was a gift from France and the installation of the poem was funded by impressionable children. The realpolitik is a lot nastier.
I’m not going to get into the weeds on the topic here, but I do want to note one thing. Whenever Dreamers/DACA are up for discussion, or some immigrant is seized and deported despite living here peaceably for 30 years and owning a well-loved business, the amygdala-based lifeforms who survive on daily doses of fear and panic will screech, “BUT THEY WERE HERE ILLEGALLY! THEY BROKE THE LAW!!!”
It was just announced that Dr. Ronny Jackson, the White House physician nominated by the president* to head the Veterans Administration, has withdrawn.
And very well might he have done so: charged with creating a hostile, toxic work environment; overprescribing drugs (including Ambien and Percocet); being drunk on the job to the extent that he wrecked a government car and was alleged to have been so much under the influence while on trips abroad that concerns were raised that he’d be unable to assist the President (Obama in this case) if any emergency were to arise. The man sounds a right mess.
Here’s my thought: if you or I knew that we had these… peccadilloes, shall we say?… in our lives, would you or I accept a high profile and probably contentious nomination? If you knew that there was even the possibility of headlines like the ones that we’ve seen swirling around Rear Admiral Jackson, would you put your name out there for nomination? Common sense says that you would not. You already have a good job, and especially if you’re a putz like Jackson, you’d want to hold on to that good thing.
So why did he? If he has a problem with alcohol — and let’s irresponsibly speculate that someone who hands out Ambien on Air Force One might have other issues as well — then perhaps his judgment is not unclouded.
But I think there’s something a little more insidious at work here. He accepted the nomination because in Trumplandia none of these things are impediments. He expected clear sailing. He expected to be shielded, or at worst, given a pass.
Carlsbad is three hours away from El Paso, but that is the closest airport you’re likely to find. To save money we took a flight with stops, and we probably will never do that again. The drive from El Paso up to Carlsbad is OK; I would probably make time to stop at Guadalupe Mountains National Park if we were to do it again.
The Caverns are magnificent, but again, if the elevator is out, consider your ability to hike up a mountain the size of the Empire State Building. (The park’s website will let you know if the elevator is not working before you go.) Take the King’s Palace tour — those rooms are not open to the general public. We didn’t see the Big Room because we were running so late. Time is not your friend on trips like these.
White Sands
Worth the trip and worth doing. I probably would book a hotel room in Alamogordo instead of driving on to Albuquerque as we did; I would have liked to go on the sunset walk on the dunes. Again, everywhere is farther than you think, and there is no civilization between here and there. If you set out for Albuquerque, there will not be a gas station or restaurants until you get there.
Albuquerque
Albuquerque is quite nice, with good restaurants and a charming Old Town. Prices on art and souvenirs are lower here than in Santa Fe. We highly recommend the Casas de Sueños as a B&B.
The Turquoise Trail
Yes, go up Hwy 14 and stop in Madrid. Plan to stay longer than we did. Lots of good hippie vibes there.
Santa Fe
Still one of our favorite places, despite the inevitable altitude sickness. The Plaza is fine, but if your time is limited then go to the Canyon Road galleries instead. Do not miss the Museum of International Folk Art. SITE Museum is cool. We did not get to Meow Wolf (a trippy installation experience) nor any of the pueblos — next time. Many good restaurants, but avoid Santacafé.
If you’re into woo at all, do not miss Temples of the Cosmos. Reservations are required. Plan ahead, and plan to spend 3–4 hours there.
— — — — —
We did rather more driving than I like on this trip, but FOMO and my LFW being what they are, it was inevitable. My preference and advice is to cut back on All The Things and stay in one place more so that you can take your time and see Moar Things there. Also, altitude sickness being a real thing, it’s better if you don’t exhaust yourself running from here to there. We all had prescriptions for Diamox, but by the end of the trip we had all abandoned it since the side effects were more or less identical to altitude sickness itself. Your mileage may vary, but my advice is to take it slow, drink water, and take naps.
We spent our last day mostly driving, up to Taos and back down.
The scenery was stunning, as usual:
Our goal was not Taos itself; we didn’t even stop in the little town. Our real goal was the Taos Pueblo. You may imagine our surprise when the road to the Pueblo was blocked because the Pueblo was closed for ritual purposes, just as our guidebook had assured us it would be. We paused for lunch and then drove on to the Rio Grande Gorge.
Oh my.
A geologic rift gave the river the chance to gouge its own gorge, and it has done so with gusto. According to a visitors center back on the highway to Taos, if the gorge were not self-filling with erosion it would be three miles deep at this point.
Yes, you can walk across the bridge. There are little balconies halfway across on which you can stand and take photographs. I made it out halfway to the halfway point, then retreated. Heights are not my thing.
And these were heights:
You could hike along the gorge, which we did for a while. Those whose sense of geological stability are different than mine kept walking up to the edge and looking over. I on the other hand explored a different kind of geological stability, on the other side of the trail:
We were on a schedule of sorts, so I kept an eye on the time and distance to our next stop, the Ojo Caliente hot spring spa. My phone had said it was only 30 minutes away, so imagine my astonishment when the car announced it would take 50 minutes. I pulled over and double-checked with the phone.
The phone said, “Turn left right here at this tiny road where you’ve stopped.” The car said, and I quote, “You are entering an area without navigation information. Please obey all traffic laws.” I turned left and we headed across country; the phone simply cut off the giant loop of the highway.
The hot springs spa is a nice little place. After I win the lottery and am flying to Santa Fe on a regular basis, we will often book a night or two up there: hot springs, massages, quality restaurant. What’s not to like?
We had 50 minutes reserved in a private pool, and it was glorious. The water was in fact hot, and the afternoon breezes were chill, and for the first time in a while I had no tension anywhere in my body.
Finally we had to get dressed and head back to Santa Fe.
Sidebar: a couple of years ago I got an email from this guy, a writer in Brooklyn, claiming that he was researching a book on procrastination and could he interview me about the Lichtenbergian Society? Sure, I said, and he called, and he was cool so I invited him to stop by the labyrinth if he were ever in the Atlanta area and meet some of the Lichtenbergians. He booked a flight, and so Andrew Santella came to Newnan, GA, to talk to a bunch of men about how procrastination is key to creativity.
Last month, Andrew’s SOON was published. Yes, we all know that Lichtenbergianism: procrastination as a creative strategy was published first (last October), but Andrew is a real writer and has like an agent and a publisher and has been on NPR and done book tours, so I think we can give him the win on this one. Plus, his book is a smartly written exploration of procrastination itself; mine is a guide to citizen artists on how to become more productively creative through structured procrastination. His is a very good book.
Anyway, when he found out we were headed to Santa Fe, he told me that his in-laws live there and if we had the time, to look them up. We did so, and our last event on our trip was meeting John and Gail for drinks at the Agoyo Lounge. They are totally delightful and we had a great time. Alas, none of us thought to take a picture documenting the event.
John and Gail left, and we decided just to order something to eat there. We were not disappointed: the food was very good there, much better than at Santacafé the night before, and we asked the server if the chef would come out so we could tell him so. He did, and he was pleased and bashful and just adorable. I also advised him to order rye for the bar so his bartender could make a proper Manhattan.
As a sidenote, it was flabbergasting that in every bar we went into, they were out of something. I can see how you might be out of your special infused bourbon — but why? — but how the heck can you be out of mezcal, or port, or draft beer? It was a mystery only partly explained by Santa Fe’s remoteness. I mean, the crab is flown in fresh every day — surely Galveston could slip a bottle of port or two in there as well?
Be that as it may, we went back to the condo, packed, slept, got up at 5:00 am, drove back down to Albuquerque, and flew home. Did you know that if you are a TSA PreCheck person you are not guaranteed PreCheck? That apparently it’s, in the words of the TSA agent I had to encounter, “random” as to whether it appears on your boarding pass? I’m pretty sure someone made a mistake here, and it’s not going to be me.
Later this week, after all my shipments come in, I’ll do the swag post. Tomorrow, maybe, the pro-tips post.
You thought there were a lot of photos yesterday? Today we went to the Museum of International Folk Art.
We’ve been there before, on our Cross Country Caper back in 2013, and I’ll be repeating some of my observations from then. That first time, I was unaware that they encourage you to take photographs until we were leaving, so there were only a few in that post. This time, it’s serious.
And we’re off. The bulk of the museum is the Girard Wing, the collection donated by Alexander and Susan Girard. As you enter that wing, there’s a wall of amulets.
I mean, a wall of amulets:
And then there are toy theatres:
A wall of toy theatres:
There are a couple of pieces, kind of lagniappes before you enter the exhibit itself…
Remember, all of this stuff is hand-made by hand.
These stray pieces are protective, guardians of the entrance.
And then you enter the exhibit:
Have a bigger look:
It’s the size of a Wal-Mart. And this, my friends, is one-tenth of the actual Girard collection.
So let’s start. I thought about doing the slide show thing, but I have literally over 100 photos and I don’t want you to miss anything, so start scrolling.
Kitty? Doggy? Adorable.
A whole cabinet of embroidered breastplates commemorating Latin American revolution
Hundreds, thousands of figurines in this room, all hand crafted.
Oh my gosh, I just noticed the little monkey with the guitar!
In making notes for my book — yes, there’s going to be a book — I draw your attention to the lack of “perfection,” i.e., academic notions of idealized form. None of these figures have any kind of verisimilitude; that’s not what a guitar player looks like in real life, and that’s certainly not what a guitar-playing rat looks like.
You know, just your average foil-covered nativity scene.
NOTE #2: Do you have notions of symmetry? Or do you, when you run out of one color of thread, just switch to another color and keep going?
I wish I knew more about this figure, but isn’t he great? Multiple heads and hands, and the hands are all holding… spoons. That other hand is either a hoof or wearing an oven mitt.
Dorp.
Almost all of the scenes in the exhibit are assembled from disparate sources. There’s only one of these detail-crammed pieces that’s done by a single artist:
Tee-hee.
Look at this one closely. What the curators have done is assemble three groups of figurines and grouped them in a forced perspective setting. The foreground is a baptism, and the joyful crowds outside stretch all the way across the plaza to the other church.
Yep, those are beads. Tiny, tiny, little beads.
Once again, a reminder that all these things are hand-made.
Unbelievably tiny things. You can see how — not even a quarter of the way through the room — your mind begins to boggle. ALL THESE THINGS, KENNETH, WHERE DID THEY COME FROM?
Again with the forced perspective, with larger figurines diminishing in size as we climb the mountain…
…to worship the baby Jesus.
NOTE #3: Use your traditions.
NOTE #4: Use the materials at hand.
Feed the giant polka-dotted chicken. NOTE #5: Why the heck not?
NOTE #6: Make a doll.
And there we are.
NOTE # 6: It doesn’t have to be complicated.
We actually own a rodent cousin of this feline — an old-school Oaxacan carving using dyes instead of paint.
Speaking of rodents:
Okay, this gets interesting.
This is a “yarn painting.” Shades of day camp!
Kitties!
NOTE #7: Doodle. Repeat.
NOTE #8: Eschew precision.
“How YOU doin’?”
“So I sez to him, I sez, listen, bub…”
If Maurice Sendak were Hopi…
NOTE #9: Decorate it.
Let us not ignore the fact that many of these artisans are quite skilled. “Folk” does not imply “primitive.”
Okay, let’s recognize the skill of the artists who assembled this gigantic exhibit. Remember, this Wal-Mart full of stuff is only one-tenth of the entire Girard collection. Someone had to pick through the gazillion pieces, choose the ones to include, and then decide how to display them. This case, for example, gives us heaven and hell. Behold:
See?
The whole room is screaming at you, “WHY THE HELL ARE YOU NOT MAKING ART??”
“Welcome! Sheep to my left, goats to my right. Just separate rooms, darlings.”
Okay, this one’s a little creepy.
A slightly less creepy version. I think what happened with the first one is that the artist got into a zone and put that third eye in there without thinking.
NOTE #10: Make it for children to play with.
One of my favorites from our first visit.
To be honest, this is where I started tripping. Which is appropriate, since this hand-painted fabric is from a culture that uses ayahuasca ritually, and these patterns are inspired by that.
When visiting the Girard Wing of the Museum of International Folk Art, always remember to look up. It won’t help with the tripping, but look up.
These guys.
This broad. (Mike Funt, I think Miss Ella needs to steal this look.)
Now *this* is a mermaid.
NOTE #11: When in doubt, make a cat.
Each of these is about as big as your thumb.
Let’s pause here to make a major point. You’ve been objecting in your head that all of this is fine and good but you yourself have no artistic talent, and this little carving would like to poke a jolly little finger in your eye and tell you to get over that. Look how clumsily this is made! But would you not be ecstatic if you had made something this joyful? (The answer is yes, yes you would.)
Ah, the masks!
Look at these:
Some are more “polished” than others, but all of them are true.
NOTE #12: Give it a face.
In case you forgot that Pinocchio is actually really creepy.
Exhausted yet? That’s just the Girard Wing. There are several other galleries, none of which are as huge as the Girard, thank goodness.
The basement area has a very nice exhibit on what constitutes folk art, with several objects set up with yes/no/maybe comments by museum staff members. And before you start objecting that you are an urban sophisticate and don’t really have a “folk” in you:
Coyote and Rabbit are not uninformed by modern cartooning.
In one of the upstairs galleries, there was an exhibit on Peruvian culture.
This painting is from an ayahuasca curandero. It is based on the visions that come to him while under the influence of the psychotropic drink.
Everything is alive.
We’ve seen this before, right?
A modern Peruvian artist riffing off of traditional patterns. (Yes, that’s a completely flat weaving.)
I would be remiss if I didn’t mention that about half the Peruvian exhibit deals with social protest. I didn’t take any photos of the clothing worn by the youth resistance, but I will note that the knitted ski masks they wear feature the Anonymous mustache. Culture is permeable.
There was an exhibit of modern artists working from the folk tradition.
And then there was the exhibit of Tramp Art. I was unaware of the term, but it’s carving done by workers in the 19th–20th centuries in their spare time. Idle hands, and all that. It has nothing to do with hobos. Mostly it’s notch carving, and personally I find it very disturbing.
I like the embroidery here.
See those little things?
They are carved and bejeweled peach pits, all done by one man, mostly religious in nature.
You might say this is exuberant. I say it’s weirding me out.
A point I made in my blog post from five years ago is that given the opportunity, humans prefer and will create the most ornate thing they can.
That was our morning. We lunched at the Museum Mile Cafe — yes, there are three other museums on that hill — and I liked the drum they had out front.
After lunch, we headed to Canyon Road, which is lined with galleries. In strolling the Plaza the day before, I was struck at the awfulness of the art in the galleries there. Completely lackluster and insipid — not anything with the energy of the least item in the Museum of International Folk Art — and I feared we were going to find the same kind of pallid imitation of art on Canyon Road.
But fortunately, the good far outweighed the bad, and if I had won the lottery I would have spent a great deal of money. I don’t have any photos because mostly they discourage that kind of thing.
True confession: I came to Santa Fe determined to purchase art. I was very very attracted to several pieces and had to talk myself out of buying one of these bells (the shipping would probably cost as much as the art), but I finally found a piece that I loved and was within my self-imposed budget:
Let me explain. This is “Peace by Peace” by Kevin Box, and it is from the Selby-Fleetwood Gallery. Box does these lovely origami sculptures made of painted aluminum, and this small wall piece struck me and wouldn’t let me go. Do not be deceived: the white is aluminum, the black is bronze. The thing weighs a ton, and naturally I had it shipped. Do I know where it’s going to go in the house? No clue. I don’t care. It’s a beautiful piece; I accomplished my goal.
We headed back to the condo to rest a bit and then head to dinner at Santacafé, the “best restaurant in Santa Fe” as it proclaims in all its marketing. Alas, dear reader, it is not. In fact, it was the worst meal I have had at any restaurant with any pretensions to cuisine. What should have been an interesting tarragon pasta with shrimp in red sauce was astoundingly flavorless. As in, it literally had no taste that I could detect. Most unfortunate. (My fellow travelers had similar experiences with their entrees.) The desserts, on the other hand, were out of this world.
Here’s an interesting coincidence: the table had crayons, and having spent the day mulling over a new book exhorting you to do art because you can, I began to doodle. First I drew a labyrinth, then drew the Temple of the Rainbow Serpent to show my companions how the enlarged center spaces made the walk a completely different experience than the usual 7-circuit pattern. Our waiter, a bejewelled and pierced person, as he was bringing the checks, asked, if he might, what my connection to these patterns was. I explained that I had one in my back yard and had visited Temples of the Cosmos.
He proceeded to tell me of the labyrinths he had helped construct and maintained, and then mentioned a friend of his that he worked with, who now lives in England, who had done a lot of work with labyrinths: Sig Lonegren. Not sure I was hearing him right, I asked him to write down the name:
As he was walking away, it hit me. “Sig Lonegren!” I shouted after him — “He wrote the book!” He looked back, surprised and pleased. “Yes, he did,” he replied.
I wish I had remembered that it was from this book that I stole the theme for Prelude (no fugue) No. 6. (Lonegren numbered the paths of an 11-circuit labyrinth and posited a tone row based on the chromatic scale.)
[Backtrack for a bizarre coincidence story: as we were finishing up the tour of Carlsbad Caverns, we struck up a conversation with a couple whom we noticed had been dining at Yellow Brix the night before. They were originally from Florida but now live in Los Alamos. We said we were from the Atlanta area, and she said, “My sister lives in Newnan, if you know where that is.” Her sister teaches Spanish at LaGrange College. The Newnan Vortex strikes again.]
It was decided[1] that most of the party wanted to go to the Georgia O’Keeffe museum in the morning. They reported at lunch that it was, of course, phenomenal: a thorough look at her career, both at her creative process and her impact on the art world.
I, on the other hand, had other plans. Whenever we travel, I go to the Labyrinth Locator to see if there are any interesting labyrinths to walk. Santa Fe is crawling with them, but they’re mostly paving stone versions of the Chartres pattern, and I don’t have any real connection to that.
But then I found Temples of the Cosmos. Oh my. Leaving aside the woo factor, what an amazing feat! Sixteen installations, labyrinths and stone rings, spread across the property — what’s not to like? So I hopped in the car and drove back down the Turquoise Trail about 30 minutes for a 10:00 appointment.
I was warmly greeted by James, who left me alone to explore the property. I was the only one there all morning.
Here’s a quick tour.
Warning: there are two kinds of people in this situation. One, like my Lovely First Wife, wants to know every little detail about what she’s getting into. The other, like me, would prefer to explore and discover and be delighted as we go along. If you think you are going to visit StarDreaming and you are like me, you might want to skip down to my discussion of my experience there. On the other hand, I’m not going to be giving you that much detail.
TEMPLE OF THE SUN
Each temple has a standing stone with an engraved description which tells you what kind of space it is, any details about the stones involved and/or the construction of the temple, and the woo involved.
Here’s the entrance:
And the large circle of stones:
Each temple has an altar (or two or three) and a firepit, which made me want to be here when fires were going on. On the altars, people have left stones, trinkets, items that have enriched them.
TEMPLE OF DREAMS
I loved this one. (For many of these, I’m just going with a slideshow.)
[slideshow_deploy id=’6969′]
TEMPLE OF THE RAINBOW SERPENT
This one is a 7-circuit labyrinth, like mine, but the central cross area is hugely enlarged. These enlarged inner spaces completely altered the walk: less straight journey, more “goals” that you come upon.
All those big spaces had separate altars.
RAINBOW MEDICINE WHEEL
This medicine wheel has 28 points and is aligned with the great Medicine Wheel in Wyoming.
TEMPLE OF THE MILKY WAY
[slideshow_deploy id=’6977′]
GRANDCHILDREN CIRCLE
One of the few temples I did not interact with.
PYRAMID OF LIGHT
This is the newest (and final) temple. It is stunning.
[slideshow_deploy id=’6985′]
I liked this detail: three firepits between the Pyramid of Light and the Temple of New Earth.
TEMPLE OF NEW EARTH
[slideshow_deploy id=’6994′]
TEMPLE OF THE VIOLET FLAME
[slideshow_deploy id=’6999′]
TEMPLE OF THE HEART
[slideshow_deploy id=’7004′]
FAERY RING
This one was honestly one of my favorites, representing as it did the spirit of PLAY. Pure whimsy in every corner.
[slideshow_deploy id=’7010′]
There appeared this series of posts with streamers, clearly leading across the arroyo to another area. Ah, I thought, I think I will let that area stay a mystery.
But then I gave in and followed them.
TEMPLE OF INFINITY
[slideshow_deploy id=’7019′]
There were curious onlookers.
I don’t have enough photos of the Temple of the Stars (although I know I took a 360 of it, it seems to have vanished from the phone), the Talking Stones, nor the Temple of Lightning to share.
There was a spot for those who might have been dragged there by their spouses:
TEMPLE OF NEW ATLANTIS
[slideshow_deploy id=’7028′]
TEMPLE OF MAGIC
[slideshow_deploy id=’7033′]
TEMPLE OF AVALON
This is a 7-circuit labyrinth and is one of the ones I did not engage with, mostly because I didn’t know it was up on the hill; I had already decided that the Temple of the Moon would be my finale.
TEMPLE OF THE MOON
[slideshow_deploy id=’7041′]
My final shot is from the hill of the Temple of the Moon, just looking out over the western side of the complex.
So, what was my experience like? I spent two and a half hours there, walking labyrinths, listening to the space, doing the hippie woo thing. Obviously I’m not going into details about what happened there, but I want to say that there was an incredible energy to the place. The Temples of the Cosmos was the most thrilling environmental art I’ve ever been in. By the time I walked my third labyrinth, I was reeling from the energy flow. I felt both empty and balanced. It was the calmest I have felt in weeks.
I look forward to returning to this place for one of the organized events.
Eventually it was time to go. I had a nice chat with James back at his house, saw his studio — he is a pretty amazing artist on top of all this — and took my leave.
I met my fellow travelers at the Plaza and ferried them to lunch at Tomasita’s, a very good Mexican restaurant where we shared our morning experiences and also came up with a great indie movie idea. No, I’m not sharing it here. What, and give you the laurels at Sundance what properly belong to us? Pffft.
We walked from Tomasita’s over to SITE Santa Fe, the installation art museum we visited briefly the day before. There we saw the Future Shock exhibit, which had interactive exhibits, visual art, assemblage, movies, all of which had something to do with life in the future. I encourage you to click on the link and explore some of those images.
Back to the condo for a nap, and then cocktails at Secreto Lounge, the top-rated cocktail bar in Santa Fe. The cocktails were good, but not stellar. The one I was interested in was not available because they were out of some of the ingredients. It does not speak well of their planning abilities to run out of their “farm-to-glass” infusions/concoctions.
Dinner was at 315 — a fabulous meal with a fabulous cocktail called The Chamberlin: gin, Amaro Nonino, Campari, burnt orange syrup, and Angostura bitters. I shall be attempting to reconstruct this upon our return home. So far this has been the best meal of the trip.
Last month, Andrew’s 
