Naked Southwest

Okay, I’m going to get it off my chest right away. No sunlight! What I mean is that our suite (as well as most of the others that I saw) don’t let any sunshine into the bedroom. Garden, flooded with sunlight. Enclosed porch, flooded with sunlight. Bedroom, dark! I remember this about the traditional adobe and adobe-style dwellings. They don’t permit enough natural light to enter. Of course, I crave the light, and the first thing I did when I woke up was to head out into the garden to stare up into the blue sky. But aside from the absence of sunlight in the bedroom (a fact, ironically enough, which pleased my sleep craving companion who prefers to sleep in, without being awakened by sunlight streaming in on her,) the room was delightful. Quiet. Cool. The king bed was super comfortable. And falling asleep with piñon crackling in the fireplace was pretty close to heaven.

I was eager to run… no jog… no shuffle, so I filled up my Camelback with water and ice and headed up along the almost always dry Santa Fe River. I explored some old haunts like the Cowgirl Hall of Fame, Kokoman’s Circus (out of business), the Hotel Saint Francis and the Artist Pub (formerly called On Water), and then made my way up Canyon Road. Pretty well exhausted and slightly scorched, I made it back to the Water Street Inn in time for breakfast on the second story deck next to the kitchen.

The grub was decent—granola, yoghurt, muffin, fruit, orange juice and tea—but it was the conversation with the server that was more memorable. She explained what had happened to all of the Española low riders. Some were still around, she said, but most had been replaced with newer, faster street rods made from Nissans and Hondas. Apparently the inspiration had come from a pair of movies that had swept the nation, resulting in fleets of high-pitched sport sedans. Sad to say good-bye to the old low riders.

After an enjoyable wander around the Plaza with stops in various galleries, we headed up to Santa Fe Preparatory School for an impromptu picnic with some of my former students. It was great to catch up and see them all grown up, perched at the edge of exciting futures, about to spread themselves around the globe to pursue exciting adventures of their own. They guided me on a tour of the newly renovated facilities including a new student center, cafeteria and athletic facilities. Cool to see kids so recently graduated still psyched to show off their school. Kudos, Santa Fe Prep! When they sent us on our way, we headed down to the Georgia O’Keeffe Museum which was constructed and opened during my tenure in Santa Fe.

The Georgia O'Keeffe Museum is one of those rare galleries where the architecture and design actually seem appropriate to the work exhibited within. Of course the museum was designed intentionally to showcase O’Keeffe’s work, so it makes sense. The rooms have airy ceilings and virtually spartan décor. It is the artwork, primarily O’Keefe’s but also Stieglitz’s, that is the focus, the reason, the centerpiece. As in the past, I found that her work effortlessly and almost a bit eerily beckons me out into the intimate solitude of her simple subjects. There is something profoundly clarifying about her work. An invitation to minimalism. To stop and absorb the simple. The beautiful.

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