Monday, July 9

Mon July 9: Santa Fe                       

Vickie, Nancy’s neighbor, who looks after Nancy’s house when she is gone, stopped by after breakfast to see if we needed anything, and gave us many good tips for places to go. It’s going to be hard to fit in all of her suggestions and everyone else’s, but they all seem too good to pass up.

So our first stop was the Museum of International Folk Art. An absolute must for anyone visiting Santa Fe. We were pleasantly surprised to learn that our admission fee (4 museums, 4 days) of $40 was waived because I am a veteran. Got to play that card more often!  

Our hands-down favorite exhibit of the Folk Art Museum was the extraordinary collection of more than 100,000 objects put together by architect and designer (and folk art fanatic) Alexander Girard. A large exhibition space is devoted to his collection, which displays, in one tableau setting after another, little stories from the various cultures from which he obtained his artifacts. A Mexican village scene, for example, might include a wedding in one spot, a street performance in another, a funeral procession, a policeman locking up a bandit, another miscreant in jail. A huge ceramic or silvery cathedral would loom over the scene; a colorful train would be pulling into the station where a crowd of people would be standing on the platform looking for their arriving relatives. All these people would be no more than 4 or 5 inches high, and there would be hundreds of them. And that would be only one tableau of maybe thirty or forty, showing folkways of  cultures from around the world. And interspersed among these scenes would be displays of needlework, colorful fabrics, and tools and ordinary but interesting utensils Mr. Girard had collected over many years.

Mexican Village Scene

There were other great exhibits, of course, ranging from Andean folk art to Javanese shadow puppets to West African ceramics and metalwork. I wasn’t aware that the little metal body parts and other objects called “Milagros” are not just a Mexican phenomenon, but are found around the world, used for the same general purpose: religious offerings to thank the appropriate saint for help in healing an ailment or disfigurement, or for more cheerful purposes like buying a car or a house, or finding one’s true love.

Before we left the museum for lunch we stopped to see the poignant “The Art of Gaman,” an exhibit of crafts and artwork produced by ethnic Japanese who were rounded up at the outset of World War II and imprisoned in the many internment camps set up by the shameful order of President Roosevelt immediately after Pearl Harbor. The Japanese word “Gaman” means “to bear the seemingly unbearable with dignity and patience.” An apt description of the many works we saw.

We had an excellent lunch in the museum café, sitting outside on the broad plaza separating the Folk Museum from the Museum of Indian Art (though eying some extraordinarily dark clouds from time to time, anticipating that we might be driven indoors by a thunderstorm). The plaza was covered with tents and awnings, being set up in preparation for this coming weekend’s International Folk Art Market, a popular annual event that we will miss.

Apache Dancer

After lunch we spent an engrossing two hours touring an exhibit in the Museum of Indian Arts and Culture entitled “Here, Now and Always,” tracing the history and culture – and stamina -- of Southwest Native American tribes before, during and after the Spanish conquest and then adapting to the occupation by the United States. A moving and sobering presentation, greatly facilitated by a docent who was a marvelously knowledgeable and tactful interpreter for a subject that required a lot of both.

The obligatory trip to the Museum gift shop ended our visit.

Our four-museum pass will get us into the New Mexico Museum of Art and New Mexico History Museum, which we may try to squeeze in on Wednesday.

The skies finally opened up as we arrived at an Albertson supermarket for needed supplies. The folding umbrella I had carried in the glove compartment for five years was good for a last 100-yard sprint through the cloudburst before it gave up the ghost. A replacement was for sale in the supermarket.

One last stop, at REI, for a new pair of shoes (Keen sandals) for me and then home for supper (broiled sockeye salmon with asparagus and rice).

A trip to the hot tub and then bed at last.