Monthly Archives: July 2014
Half blind
Our Santa Fe Photographic Workshops group made a stop in Chimayó, to see the church and the grounds. There was a lot going on; I’ll let Wikipedia explain:
Each year some 30,000 people from all over the world make pilgrimages to the Santuario de Chimayó during Holy Week, especially on Holy Thursday and Good Friday, some seeking blessings and some in fulfillment of a vow. Walking is traditional; some pilgrims walk from as far away as Albuquerque, about 90 miles.
Many visitors to the church take a small amount of the “holy dirt”, often in hopes of a miraculous cure for themselves or someone who could not make the trip. Formerly, at least, they often ate the dirt. Now seekers of cures more commonly rub themselves with the dirt or simply keep it. The Church replaces the dirt in the pocito from the nearby hillsides, sometimes more than once a day, for a total of about 25 or 30 tons a year.
The Church takes no position on whether miracles have occurred at the Santuario.
I didn’t take any of the dirt, but did leave with quite a few photos, including this one of an outdoor shrine decorated with crosses, candles, coins, and other items left by pilgrims. The Saint and His horse are either blinded by the sun, or by the shadow – I’ll let you decide.
El Santuario de Chimayó
Chimayó, New Mexico
photographed 7.2.14
The weather moved in
The idea was to get some spectacular shots of sunset on these limestone cliffs, the ones Georgia O’Keeffe called The White Place. The weather, however, had different ideas, and as this storm moved in, we decided it was time to move out.
But I kind of liked the stormy skies better than I would have like the sunset.
near Abiquiu, New Mexico
photographed 7.2.2014
Solace in the midst of storms
A curious thing happened during my week at the Workshops. The sky, the horizon, the colors, the clouds – things that normally provide me with great comfort – held little interest.
I struggled. With everything. Nothing felt right, and under that vast sky, I began to look inward. One day, I put down my camera, sat on a rock, and cried. I cried because I didn’t tryst myself, didn’t trust my vision, didn’t know if I even had a vision. I cried because I didn’t know what else to do. I was reminded of the words of songwriter Bruce Cockburn, who admits to “ranting in self doubt.” I did my fair share of ranting.
I wanted to give up. I wanted to keep going. I loved what I was doing. And I hated it.
Then another curious thing happened: a series of images gradually found their way to me. They lined themselves up in an order that depicted my struggle, and I am grateful to them for showing me the path that I have traveled and for hinting at what’s to come. I’m not there yet; I haven’t even figured out where “there” is. But I sense a turn in the right direction.
***
My profound thanks to Brett Erickson, who led the workshop and without whose patience and support I could not have written these words.
Photo Number Seven: Santa Fe Photographic Workshops
near Abuquiu, New Mexico
photographed 7.2.14
The complete series can be seen here.
The way begins to be revealed
Photo Number Six: Santa Fe Photographic Workshops
near Madrid, New Mexico
photographed 7.2.14
Going around back
Photo Number Five: Santa Fe Photographic Workshops
near Ranchos de Taos, New Mexico
photographed 7.1.14
One Day | One Image 