Kristin standing in the Rio Grande

Refuge in a River and a Painting

On a recent road trip to New Mexico, Kristin and I bought a sizable painting that depicts the Rio Grande Gorge jutting from, through, and towards a brightly colored landscape. We had independently eyed much smaller, more modest paintings that the other didn’t love. With Georgia O’Keeffe whispering in our ears (“I decided that if I could paint that flower in a huge scale, you could not ignore its beauty.”), big seemed better.

We weren’t supposed to be on New Mexico highway 68 to Taos in the first place. We thought our hotel reservation in Santa Fe lasted three nights. Instead, with only a two night stay, our story starts with Kristin accelerating in volume as she decelerated our car in response to a yellow rectangular roadside sign: “I know that guy!”

Photo Credit: Kristin Weber

But that sign at the Pilar junction would have meant nothing to her if not for her friendship with the magical Shannon Armstrong, who is also Stephen’s friend and part-time swing dance partner. “Magical” is not hyperbole; while Kristin and I were dating, Shannon mysteriously appeared at Arizona’s Paria Canyon, Buckskin Gulch trailhead.

We wouldn’t have seen the bright yellow sign if we hadn’t intentionally sought refuge. Like many places, Santa Fe was experiencing a heat wave; everywhere, a quickening drumbeat of drought, heat and fire. The Rio Grande offered a tonic.

Marita Swazo Hinds: Photo www.okeeffemuseum.org/the-women-of-tewa-nangeh-tewa-country/

While in Santa Fe, we visited the Tewa Nangeh/Tewa Country exhibit. There, Marita Swazo Hinds (Tesuque Pueblo) says of Tewa pottery “Each vessel holds intention, a sacred whisper molded into form… the eye is not perfect, the form is not always whole.”

Our bodies are vessels for water and I believe something in us whispers “pay attention,” especially in drought conditions. Kristin and I waded into the Rio Grande, our feet displacing micro amounts of a mighty river as it rose up our legs on a hot day — our bodies bearing witness so our minds could interrogate what is not whole.

The Rio Grande has attracted humans since prehistoric times. Kristin and Shannon connected over 30 years ago. A Southwestern megadrought that started in 2000 has informed the ongoing conversation with the land that my companion Joe Waldon and I have as we hike. Shannon has known Stephen for 16 years. You might say that this painting purchase has been in the works for a long time.

In previous iterations of Stephen’s art, the Gorge is more river-like, blue and curvy. Fewer piñon trees inhabit the foreground. I need this version’s evocative green, the canyon’s jagged path, the dominant fiery red plateau and an abundance of piñons in play. I hear sustained chords resisting resolution. Art allows us to share an experience with others across time and space. To imagine possibilities.

Of course, we might not think like that in the moment. Not practiced in the parlance of art galleries, I blurted, “You’ve got some great stuff.” Recognizing my discomfort with my blunder, Stephen replied, “That’s OK, when people ask what I do, I say, ‘I make shit.’”

Bolting through his gallery door, Stephen called out, “Don’t forget to send me a picture when you have it hung” as we drove away.