Painting Santa Fe

Harshal Funding was granted by the City of Santa Fe Occupancy Tax. Additional funding provided by Kathy and Steve Elliott, the Edwin T. Meredith Foundation, Anne and John Marion, Tia Collection, Nidra Matucci Galleries, Power Costs Inc, and... The paintings in this highly anticipated exhibition held a significance for Santa Fe yet to be revealed.

On this day, the artworks and the pristine walls they were hanging upon were only a promise for a new future. It was November 24, 1917. Some 1,200 people eagerly awaited for the doors to open and be part of this historic moment. The debut of what would become the New Mexico Museum of Fine Arts. This was transformative in terms of how New Mexicans conceived of themselves and how they presented themselves to the outside world. This new museum was the symbol of hope for the city. 100 years ago, Santa Fe was in steep economic decline and it was really an economic and psychological funk. Principal donor Frank Springer had to wait for the tremendous applause to cease before he delivered the opening speech. He said, Our arts shall grow as this temple has grown straight from our own soil.

While the past may teach us, it is the future that calls. They were taking a great risk. But they were desperate. A visionary, the self-appointed cultural entrepreneur behind this economic Hail Mary, was Edgar Lee Hewitt. He seized this historic moment, saying, There is a glorious future for art in the Southwest. Think what it is, the truest, finest, most enduring record of the activities, the human spirit. Although Santa Fe's transformation was carefully engineered, some might say this auspicious day belonged to serendipity. Who could have predicted that Santa Fe's fate would hinge on tuberculosis or an unexpected meeting at the 1915 Panama, California International Exhibition? There, Hewitt met one of America's most influential artists, Robert Hinwright,

setting in motion a chain of events that neither could imagine. Perhaps no one more than California transplant Carlos Vieira, one of the artists in the opening exhibitions receiving line, would have been more astonished at the profound changes happening in the city. How far fetched such an event would have been for the young artist to imagine when he first laid eyes on Santa Fe in 1904? Il with a lung ailment, Vieira came to Santa Fe for the dry, fresh, clean air, one of the many lungors seeking a cure. He describes the place as desolate. He referred to the architecture as being mud pi houses and certainly nobody here to buy paintings.

At the turn of the century, Santa Fe would have been largely mud. Mud houses, dirt roads, a few sidewalks, little or no sewage, and very few trees. Vieira eaked out a threadbare existence, living off family money. Eventually, he peddled vegetables door to door and ran what he called a rattle of a photography studio. It was soul crushing. He really was lost. Santa Fe, like Vieira, faced a bleak outlook. At the hub of New Mexico for centuries, the spokes were now broken. El Camino de Al, Spain's Royal Road and the Santa Fe Trail represented a bygone era. In 1880, hopes that the Santa Fe Railroad, its namesake, would bring in desperately needed economic development

were dashed when the railroad bypassed the city. Suddenly, the entire city felt itself becoming irrelevant. People in Santa Fe said, we are drying up and we are going to blow away. Business plummeted, meanwhile beneficiaries of the railroad, Albuquerque and Las Vegas, boomed. It had an ego and there was a certain desperation by what was happening. To boosters, the historic Spanish colonial and territorial style buildings were a detriment. A few modern buildings took root, yet looked incongruous. Santa Fe's fortunes would change with the arrival of Edgar Lee Hewitt, a man bursting with determination and purpose. An educator and archaeologist, he would arrive to 1907, fresh from having played a major role in the Pioneering Federal Antiquities Act.

Edgar Lee Hewitt was a dynamic young man. What in the parlance of the late 19th, early 20th century would be called a person who is thoroughly wide awake. Now that usually meant thoroughly wide awake to the opportunities to make profit in business. He brought that booster spirit from the commercial realm into the public and the civic realm. Edgar Hewitt is really a force of nature. Confrontational, charismatic. He was able to achieve amazing things but often at great costs. Many people refer to him as El Toro for his stubbornness and his abrasiveness and always wanting to get his own ways. I'm going to take all the credit, you're going to do all the work. I'm not going to pay you well. I'm not going to acknowledge your own ambitions. One of the students in one of his field schools wrote,

there was an old duffer called Hewitt, who was head of the school and he knew it. When anybody came who knew not of his fame, he took out his trumpet and blew it. Hewitt began to see Santa Fe as the ideal place to find a cultural institution that could carry forward the study of the Southwest, the development of a cultural identity for Santa Fe in New Mexico and ultimately the promotion of tourism and our colony. Hewitt founded the Museum of New Mexico and succeeding institutions to promote Santa Fe as an authentic American place and to draw visitors in much-needed revenue. With statehood looming, a boost to the economy couldn't come soon enough. Was Hewitt the right man at the right time? Yes. With its rich history, the verse cultures and stunning environment, Santa Fe's raw materials were the fuel. One of his first steps was to renovate the ancient palace of the governors and debut the Pueblo Revival Style.

In 1910, the palace hosted something remarkable, its first art exhibition, Warren Rollins, who was painting in Touse, saw an opportunity in artist's star of Santa Fe, despite warnings that Santa Feans have no appreciation of art and never will have. Though his display lasted only a few days, it was a spark. Gradually, the Palace Museum began to host fine art exhibits, encouraged Hewitt offered artists free studios in the palace. He knew that if he wanted to have this great cultural mecca, that he needed to nurture it, because it wasn't going to come on its own. Originally drawn to Albuquerque for a TBCure, New York City illustrator Gerald Cassidy became the newest Lunger to join the fledgling Santa Fe colony in 1912, along with his wife, writer Inazizer Cassidy, fascinated by the colorful mesa landscapes and native people, Cassidy's luminous canvases went beyond representation.

The Santa Fe in a Mexican praised his show with the Palace of the Governors, writing, he catches with rare cunning the spiritual light that reveals the soul. Cassidy is among that few in whose pictures even the layman recognizes the touch of genius. So Quibono, who benefits, really asks the viewer, how will Native Americans benefit from statehood? So there was clearly uncertainty on the part of indigenous people in New Mexico. Hewitt became frustrated by the Palace's cramped quarters and tiny galleries. By 1911, he called for a new building.

When statehood became a reality in 1912, local leaders formulated a plan to boost tourism. They proclaimed Santa Fe the city different. A new showcase was part of the plan. The era's health and finances were improving by 1912. Hewitt had involved him in the restoration of the Palace and the proposed Museum of Art. The two shared similar personality traits. He had a clear vision of what he wanted and once he got a hold of a project or an idea, he could make it happen. When he started to get out more and see the Pueblos and how the people lived, it did peak his interest quite a bit. Certainly it was an adventure.

I think he wanted to be out blazing trails and succeeding at that. In that respect, he mirrored the aspirations of Santa Fe and the attitude of many of the artists soon to arrive. In 1914, Frank Springer commissioned Vera to document Pueblo Mission Churches. His renderings of Spanish mission and Pueblo architecture along with Jesse Nusbaum's photographs helped form the basis for what became Santa Fe's style. Vera, fascinated by what he found, soon campaigned for this old new Pueblo revival style. It was a surprise that he changed his opinion. It was a surprise that he stayed at all. Four years later, Vera had built a home on old Santa Fe trail that became an archetype of Santa Fe style. He never wavered from this hard line of purity and wrote about it over and over and over again.

He was a little intense and he also had a great wit and he liked sharing both of those things. I think he probably was a bit of a pain in the ass. Before leaving for art school, all of Rush made herself a promise. I intend to work hard and be a great painter. The ambitious 41-year-old daughter of a Quaker minister made her first trip to New Mexico in 1914. It was life-changing, stretching out under brilliant night skies. The mountain air was for her, she said, like the elixir of life. Rush became the first woman to have a solo exhibit at the Palace of the Governors that same year.

Her paintings impressed the Albuquerque Journal reviewer, saying, her pictures are so beautiful, so enchanting. Restless, Rush left a further career, but soon returned. By 1914, Hewitt and his team were hard at work, planning for San Diego's much-bally hoop, 1915, Panama, California, international exposition. Hewitt would be chosen director of exhibits. Not surprisingly, Carlos Vieira was commissioned by Hewitt to paint six massive murals of ancient Mayan cities. Expectations were high. The newly minted state of New Mexico wanted to capitalize on being in the limelight. San Diego led to two major and perhaps unanticipated events that would have a profound effect on Santa Fe. The distinctive New Mexico building dazzled visitors and would prove inspirational.

Our pavilion turned out to be remarkably popular. It was a combination architecturally of various mission churches, including the Church of Eastlata and the Church in Acama. Even more significant was that by serendipity Robert Henry would be in San Diego, where a mutual friend introduced him to Hewitt. Leader of a group of New York realist painters known as the Eight, in the early 1900s, Henry had been one of America's most influential artists. Seeking authenticity, the Eight were belled against the restrictive attitudes of the Academy in both word and paint. Foremost they believed in non-jury independent exhibitions. Fledging Santa Fe would prove to be a blank canvas. Henry is trying to really kind of rebuild his reputation and establish his sense of relevance as a leader in American art. In the wake of the armory show, he no longer feels like he's at the leading edge.

This success of the New Mexico building convinced legislators and patron Frank Springer to anti-up the money and break ground for a new museum. And Hewitt had fallen under Henry's spell. ... Accepting Hewitt's invitation in 1916, Henry found Santa Fe a potent source of inspiration and spent three summers there creating more than 100 paintings. Santa Fe was an ascent and fertile ground to see Henry's ideals come to life. He convinced Hewitt a museum devoted solely to fine art would be the best choice.

Henry's groundbreaking non-jury to open door policy was adopted by the museum. Hewitt also felt it was vitally important to continue to offer free studio space. So for many outside of Santa Fe, it was a signal that this was a community that embraced and supported its artists. In 1916, William Penn Hallow Henderson moved from Chicago after his wife, the noted poet and author, Alice Corbin Henderson, was diagnosed with TB. Henderson and their daughter set up house on Camino Del Monte Soul while his wife recuperated at Sun Mount Sanitarium. With a museum imminent, Henderson learned he'd be able to show his paintings at the opening exhibition. Excited, he and his daughter, Little Alice, set out on horseback with camping rolls and sketchbook, the result was an exceptional burst of creativity. Henderson was more than a painter. A fine architect and furniture maker, his designs would become among the building blocks for the evolving Santa Fe style.

Soon, the Henderson became the intellectual backbone of Santa Fe's emerging arts community. Renowned in literary circles, Alice vigorously promoted the idea of a true American literature and those associated with it. A ringleader, she would bring in friends with her banner, Robert Frost and Carl Sandberg. With an open door policy of their own, their home was constantly swarming with a rich blend of artists, neighbors and celebrities. Poet Spud Johnson remarked, their humble home sparkled with warm generosity. In the summer of 1917, using bricks made at the local penitentiary, the museum construction was well underway. Hinri returned, resuming an exhaustive painting regimen as the museum was to open in the fall.

Adding to the anticipation, the well-connected Hinri persuaded two of his good friends to join him, distinguished American painters Leon Crowe and George Bellos, who would be included in the inaugural exhibition. One of the secrets to Santa Fe's allure was the war in Europe. Cut off from their usual sources of inspiration across the Atlantic, artists looked to the southwest for exotic subjects. Disgusted with the horrors of modern warfare and congested cities, they sought sunshine, vistas and authentic cultures. Carlos Vieira continued to distinguish himself. He would hire him to paint the murals in the museum's St. Francis auditorium. One of them does, in fact, depict Christopher Columbus' landing and, of course, Christopher Columbus had to look exactly like Carlos Vieira. Hinri glowed in anticipation of the museum's opening, saying,

most museums are glum and morose temples looking homesick for the skies and associations of their native lands. The museum here looks like the precious child of the Santa Fe sky and the Santa Fe mountains. Santa Fe may do the rare thing and become itself. On opening day, El Palacio reported, the building was thronged. He would believe, build it and they will come. In 1917, very few New Mexicans had ever seen a museum, let alone been to a museum. And so, by creating a collection of works that were holding New Mexico in character,

this was transformative in terms of how New Mexicans conceived of themselves and how they presented themselves to the outside world. It was a real coming of age moments, this was our chance to say, here we are and we stand shoulder to shoulder with the great cities of the world. It must have been an incredibly satisfying moment. And I think they knew that this was the beginning of the city's future. Hinri's artistic ambition was echoed by many painters in the exhibit. He said, I do not wish to explain these people. I only want to find whatever of the great spirit there is in the southwest. If I can hold it on my canvas, I am satisfied. When people look at Digito, it doesn't look like a very radical painting. It's not radical in terms of how it was painted particularly.

It's really radical in what it was trying to say. It was making the point that Digito is a human being and the equivalent of all of the European-American portraits that you have ever seen. America had been through the Great Plains Wars in the 1880s. Those wars were romanticized by Russell and Remington. But Hinri's painting of the Native American is the opposite. It's a humanist painting. He's not a warrior. Hinri is really challenging the misconceptions and that's why we love him. The opening of the doors to that first exhibition was a mark in time for the ancient city. The beautiful paintings sent a clarion call to the art world. This city was different. It didn't take long for word to spread about Santa Fe.

Not only did it have an open door policy for exhibitions, unlike Tows, it also had one for artists. Everyone was welcome. He would say, this is your house. New Mexico was an easy place to call home. When I first saw Santa Fe, the old part seemed to be like picture book stuff that somebody had dreamed up and then found it comfortable to live in. Gustav Bauman. In 1918, Gustav Bauman's first visit resulted in an unexpected change of plans. Instead of returning to Chicago, he remained in the city for the rest of his life. He created inimitable scenes of the surrounding region. With the hands of a craftsman and the heart of an artist, Bauman often used his paintings as models for his beautiful woodblock prints.

He had an amazing capacity to capture the spirit of his subjects, a tree in springtime, summer clouds. Although his work received wide recognition, perhaps the best venue for him was the walls of his friends' homes, also loved what they found in New Mexico. After admiring one of Bauman's paintings, the McEw family founded on their doorstep with a note, Love Gus. I thought it would look nice behind the piano and it certainly does. There were no art galleries, but plenty of living rooms. The Bauman home, like many artist's homes, became a showcase and friendly meeting place. His quiet, wonderful scenes and his whimsical marionettes were in contrast to momentous artistic undertakings happening elsewhere. While certainly intrigued by the armory show, he was equally interested in putting on a puppet show. We would have a wonderful time just with the little stage that they had put up in their living room.

Soon we enjoyed the place that came under their fingers. And that was a great gift to all of us. Santa Fe style was art and architecture, but it was more. Gustaf and Jane graciously demonstrated that it was also the spirit of generosity. Nowhere have I found the clear air, the brilliant sunshine, the stimulating color, with the human elements, Louise Crow. Arriving in 1918, Louise Crow stayed three years painting primarily Pueblo people in the surrounding landscape. Her work caught Hugh its eye, and he arranged for her to live and work at San Ildefonso Pueblo.

The museum held three exhibits of her paintings, which provided a rare opportunity for her to become established. Later in life, when she returned to Santa Fe, Crow paid tribute to the museum's open door policy, saying, it is necessary for a beginner to see his work hung in a gallery, and company with other artists where he can get a true perspective. Arriving in 1919, John Sloan, Randall Davy, and their wives spent six arduous weeks driving from New York to exotic Santa Fe. New Mexico would work its magic as the urban realist spent 30 summers in Santa Fe, immersing himself.

In turn, the city revitalized him, expanding his palette and scope. Santa Fe would be an essential stop on his American journey. In terms of Santa Fe's developing artistic community, Sloan, along with Henry, may have been one of the most influential. A renowned painter and teacher, young artists like Will Schuster bonded with him and his presence elevated the community's status and credibility. An artist might starve for food here, but he'll starve spiritually in a place like New York, Randall Davy. From the beginning, Randall Davy had a thing for horses. Renowned for his glamorous society portraits and artistic needs, Davy's passion for horses manifested in his colorful paintings of horse racing and polo playing.

On the surface, Davy's bon vivant manner and style seemed incompatible with Santa Fe. When painting or playing the cello, he was always impeccably dressed. Yet Davy knew what he wanted from that very first visit when he escaped New York City with Sloan. In 1919, he bought the former Army sawmill at the picturesque top of the Old Canyon Road. He renovated it into a home, studio, and welcoming place for artists to connect and celebrate their freedom. He said, when the artist is alive in any person, whatever his kind of work may be, he becomes an inventive, searching, daring, self expressing creature. This new spirit brought about a heightened appreciation of native art. At the time, museums did not show native art as fine art.

But that would soon change. During the late teens and 20s, Santa Fe became a hotbed for discussion of Native American aesthetic expression. The first exhibition of Pablo Iso painting was in 1919 at the Fine Arts Museum and it got world attention. The importance and respect that is granted to native art now is largely due to the efforts of a few folks in Santa Fe, I think. So that's an important piece of the story in creating room for indigenous art to be more than just tourist souvenirs. I think what they did was really to shake up the place. If there was any doubt that Santa Fe was the city different, Los Cinco Pintores, the five painters, removed it in 1921. The group proposes a novel, though practical, plan to bring art to the public.

Its concept is that art is universal, that it sings to the peasant laborer as well as to the connoisseur. Los Cinco Pintores manifesto 1921. Brasch, irreverent, Fremont Ellis, Joseph Bakos, Walter Meruk, Will Schuster and Willard Nash, challenged Santa Fe's old guard stylistically and competed with him for space in the museum, the only public venue where artists could get their work seen and sold. They never missed an opportunity to lampoon the old guard, newcomers, and most of all, themselves. Los Cinco Pintores were given a label that still follows them, five little nuts and five mudhuts. On Camino del Monte Sol, these Adobe Bohemians built their own homes. Vigor, originality, and the daring to express themselves are evident.

One is convinced of the honesty of Endeavor of each artist, and while the trend is modern, it is yet within the bounds of sanity, El Palacio. From Buffalo, New York, Bakos and his friend Walter Meruk visited Santa Fe. Bakos found, everything about Santa Fe and the surrounding countries surpassed my wildest romantic dreams. Its eye dazzling light of different color tones every new second was a delight to my artist's soul. Influenced by Van Gogh and Gogan, Bakos' oil paintings with their bold colors and strong expressionistic brushstrokes would later transition to subtle watercolors with a lighter touch. Notably, he exhibited in major American museums, thereby increasing recognition and respect for New Mexico painting. He taught at Santa Fe High School for 30 years, and during his time in the city earned a reputation as a mentor and a passionate supporter of the arts. Walter Meruk left Santa Fe in 1926, his legacy obscured by a disastrous studio fire.

Art is concerned with the true inner spirit, which determines the outer form, Willard Nash. Willard Nash was celebrated as the American sezon. Painting in his free studio, Nash was mentored by Andrew Dossberg, who was fresh from working with Alvant Guard artists in Paris. Inspired by Cubism, Nash's paintings captured the structural rhythms of the land and architecture, constantly experimenting. His work evolved, as he said, step by step, deeper into the mysteries of aesthetics. When Los Incopen Torres went their separate ways in 1926, it marked another beginning. Together, they were a brief spark, a signal that the artistic community was taking on a fuller, more complex, and vibrant life of its own. Individually, they provided the fuel that helped the city's artistic spirit burn brighter. See, happened to be at the Battle of Verdun and got mustard gasped, and one third of one lung was all he had left.

At the same time, he contracted tuberculosis. And he's been given one year to live. Yeah, what do you do? Go home and just curl up and die. He didn't know anybody in Santa Fe. He didn't have any roots of any kind. And then he discovered a whole army of Bohemians, creative people, people like him, and he was in heaven, and he blossomed. And he gradually healed both physically and emotionally, and then he began to get the twinkle in his eye. He didn't know how to paint. Dad became a painter because he was curious and he was a creator. When he first got into Santa Fe, these were very creative people.

He'd never been around people that were writers and poets and musicians and all sorts of folks. And this was a young man now that only had theoretically one year to live. And he wanted to do something. So he would try painting, or he would try etching. It was just an entire Bohemian culture that he thrived in, and I think that they thrived with him. And he excused was an excuse to have a gathering. And it might be a few people coming over, and then a few more, and then some more. All of a sudden it's an evening party just because dining room became a stage, and we break out the big box of costumes that we always had, and we'd have a skin, or we'd have a play, or maybe they'd play musical instruments, or maybe they'd just tell jokes. He had fun. He lived that fun. It had became a presence in Santa Fe because of his character.

Anyone that he encountered who had a gift or a desire, dead would do everything they could to help them to achieve that. He was a very caring guy. Will Schuster, Chris and me. Will Schuster always wore glasses perched on the end of his nose, and he looked over the glasses, and he said to my father, are you the father of this child? And he said, yes, and he said, are you sure? And then he said, all right, we'll get the first name. And they reached into a hat and drew out a name. And he sprinkled cider on my head and said, Theodora. Turns out all the names in the hat were Theodora. He was very serious about being an artist, and he actually had no choice.

It was a natural compulsion. It was a day with a sky like something I had never seen. A very blue sky, and a big white thunderhead cloud was rolling up. I thought, my god, this is heaven. Freeman Ellis. When 22-year-old Freeman Ellis visited Santa Fe in 1919, he found a home. He saw beauty in everything, even the simplest thing. In the early days, it was impressionistic, virgin-on, expressionistic, because he was very quick and rhythmic, and could slow down and do just the slightest touch and make something just right. For 67 painting years, he felt the lands enchantment.

His friend and fellow artist, Tom Lee writes, I think I never met a man so in love with painting. The physical act of painting is Freeman Ellis. He loved the very pigments he squeezed from tubes onto his palate. He was deeply enamored with the very exercise of painting, of the heft and feel of the loaded brush touching in just the right place, upon the textured surface of the taut, inviting canvas. The whole magic of the act of painting he loved with hand and heart. Inspiration struck early with one look at Albert Beersdad's The Rocky Mountains. When his mother took him to the mat, he was stunned that somebody could actually depict what he experienced. He told me he was so hard for me to understand how Beersdad got that light.

He was born in the West and lived it and breed it. It was in his bones and in his blood. He'd take a square of the painting and he memorized what was in that square. And he'd go home and he'd put it on the paper. The next day he'd go back and do the same thing. He finished the painting, which was an incredible experience for a 12 year old child. From that moment on, he decided I want to see if I can do something like that. He never hesitated and he always had a sketchbook in his pocket. He loved a sketch. Sometimes very quickly, cursually. I think ultimately he was really concerned with painting something that would give other people a perception of something they'd experienced directly

but hadn't seen in that way or in that light. Well, in the Aspen painting, I cried. It was so special. He said, you really like that nice? Oh heavens, yes. The sun is coming through the trees and I can feel the breeze coming through the Aspen. And every time I see it, I think to him. He made beauty come to life for me. And I'm so grateful that he taught me that. Santa Fe's art colony boomed in these early years with innumerable artists like Sheldon Parsons,

Theodore Van Solen, Marsden Hartley, B.J. O. Nordfeld. Raymond Johnson. Frank Applegate. The creative energy and intellectual power was like a magnet drawing creative individuals, all of whom made an impact. People would tell all their friends, hey, you got to come to Santa Fe. It's the coolest place and you know, anything goes there. It's the Wild West. Writers, journalists, architects, theater people, archaeologists, and anthropologists, all added to the rich intellectual ferment of the growing art colony. I think that what drew them was the freedom to be themselves, the freedom to create without anybody judging them.

With other being restrictions on their behavior and what they were trying, where are the cool places for young people to go today? Portland, Brooklyn, Austin, but in 1916, 1919, on the radar of young, dynamic people across the country, Santa Fe was right at the top of the list. Alternatively, women made up a substantial portion of these newcomers, visiting intermittently, Alice Shelly exhibited nationally and internationally. A 1920 exhibition at the Museum of Fine Art received high praise. The Santa Fe in New Mexico noted a brilliant technical performance, which visualizes for the observer, the spirit of the moment, and the subject. Freedom lured all of Rush to return in 1920.

It is telling that she rebelled against early academic training, which she said squashed every vestige of originality, ingenuity, and imagination. For her, Santa Fe was a place of renewal, where she had the opportunity to discover herself. She also found kindred spirits on similar journeys of self-discovery. She felt at home and bought one at the heart of the growing canyon road arts colony. Due to her passion for painting along with her welcoming and daring demeanor, Rush's studio was often Hewitt's first stop to introduce newcomers to Santa Fe. She would become celebrated as Santa Fe's first lady of the arts. After experimenting with fresco painting, she made it her specialty and did federally funded projects during the Depression.

She wrote of her work, The Strange Beauty of the Southwest, and fights us to dare all things. New Mexico's growing artistic reputation attracted Georgia O'Keefe, who first visited in 1929 at the invitation of Mabel Dodge-Lujan. Ironically, while he would open doors to women artists, O'Keefe was not among them. So one of his assistants sent a note saying, Georgia O'Keefe has offered to do a mural. Do you want us to proceed? Hewitt wrote back and said, No. More or less, I don't want an artwork by that woman in my museum. So despite the open-door policy, he denied her presence. She never forgave the museum or had her Hewitt. By the mid-1920s, Santa Fe was thriving.

No longer the desolate town Carlos Vieira encountered earlier. Everybody brought something to the table, and they all blossomed, and the town just exploded with them living their lives as artists. Artists, writers, poets, homosexuals, ex-centrics, were simply part of the parcel of the culture. It never occurred to me. I mean, why would it? That life was different anywhere else, and it wasn't until I went away to boarding school and then college that I realized the rest of America wasn't like that. Imagination flowed in Santa Fe itself became a broad canvas. In 1924, the city's annual fiesta was primarily Hewitt's ticketed enterprise and was regarded by some as a stodgy historical affair.

With greater reference, artists created Positimpo, a free-spirited alternative highlighted by a hysterical pageant. One of the conspirators, who Stuff Bowman wrote, Positimpo proved to be the right name for what we had in mind. Not educational uplift or historical glory. I've seen much larger parades where people cried with boredom. I've never seen one where sides ached from laughter such as this. Dead and his colleagues went a little more fun, so they said, we'll burn gloom. A highlight of this new spirit was the unveiling of Zizobra, Santa Fe's now annual tradition of burning old man gloom. Working separately on what became a giant marionette, Will Schuster made the body, which was stuffed with tumbleweeds, while Gustaf Bowman made the head. Zizobra, or anxiety in Spanish, is a way for the community to have its worries and troubles consumed by flames.

It also signified the burning away of Santa Fe's economic woes to make way for a new future built on art. The eccentric and wealthy white sisters were an integral part of the creative mix. Patrons of artists and champions of cultural research. Their parties were as lavish as their philanthropy. None of them were more legendary than the parties hosted by Elizabeth and Martha White, who came from New York City in 1923 and built this incredible state on Garcia's tree, called Elderly Ring, the Bandness. One of the parties that the white sisters threw was for their having built the first swimming pool in Santa Fe in the 1920s. And so they had a mock sacrificial ceremony,

and they dressed up in these costumes somewhere with tea strainer earrings, kitchen implements and feathers and whatever they had lying around. And the art community attended politicians, former governors. And they sacrificed two virgins, the white sisters themselves, by throwing them into the water of the swimming pool to molify the Aztec water gods. It was quite the scene. In a short period of time, the artists were woven into the fabric of everyday city life. The progenitor of today's hugely successful annual Indian market was held in 1922. Developed by Edgar Lee Hewitt and Kenneth Chapman, it encouraged a market for fine Native American craftsmanship. And in 1925, artist Frank Applegate and author Mary Austin founded the Spanish Colonial Arts Society. And organized what became today's popular Spanish market.

Oliver LaFarge, my father, describing Santa Fe artists. In those days, it had an ancient Greek quality, in that its members considered anyone who is not civically active to be, as the Greeks said, an idiot. The gamble paid off. Santa Fe reinvents itself and succeeds beyond anyone's wildest imagination. The Santa Fe of today, with its distinctive style, 10 museums and 300 galleries, is one of the world's arts capitals. Weaving, the creative, cultural, and historical elements together, over the last 20 years, and the history of the art, the art, the art, the art, the art, the art, the art, the art, the art, the art, the art, the art, the art, the art,

weaving, the creative, cultural, and historical elements together, over the last 100 years, the city different, has become a work of art itself. Even in his best years, the original art colonist Carlos Vieira was never fully healthy. In 1937, he succumbed to a lingering cold. Carlos was the epitome of a Santa Fe artist, in that he knew no bounds as to what he could and should be involved in. I think his goal was to create something valuable, and noteworthy, and lasting. That is gift.

Many of the things that those of us living here now think of as quintessentially Santa Fe are the creations of these brilliant, clever, funny people that wanted to add something to life to make it more enriching, more exciting. They didn't allow themselves to be intimidated by the challenge of what was ahead, to tell themselves that it couldn't be done. There was this kind of brash confidence that why not we can remake the city in a new image, we can build new institutions, we can take this town from the brink of collapse and make it into an internationally known destination. The artists were absolutely irrepressible. They painted all of Santa Fe with their spirit and not just their campuses. Santa Fe, to borrow from Frank Springer's speech at the opening of the museum 100 years ago,

is the realization of a dream. What captured Henry, Los Sinkopen Doris, and the millions of people who have been drawn to Santa Fe since then, took physical form in the museum's inaugural exhibition, and that very thing continues 100 years later to define and propel the city different. That is, the tremendous need to create. Perhaps Henry best captured what is at the heart of Santa Fe when he wrote, the object isn't to make art, it's to be in that wonderful state, which makes art inevitable. Santa Fe, to borrow from Frank Springer's speech at the opening of the museum 100 years ago,

is a dream. Santa Fe, to borrow from Frank Springer's speech at the opening of the museum 100 years ago, is a dream. Santa Fe, to borrow from Frank Springer's speech at the opening of the museum 100 years ago, is a dream. Santa Fe, to borrow from Frank Springer's speech at the opening of the museum 100 years ago, is a dream. Santa Fe, to borrow from Frank Springer's speech at the opening of the museum 100 years ago, is a dream. Santa Fe, to borrow from Frank Springer's speech at the opening of the museum 100 years ago, partial funding was granted by the City of Santa Fe occupancy tax additional funding provided by Kathy and Steve Elliott the Edwin T. Meriteth foundation adne and John Marion Tia collection. Needro Matucci galleries, power costs ink, and

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