The spirit is willing

A Memory Haunts the Place

While we're in the neighborhood of Abiquiu, let's drop in on Miss Georgia's old haunts.

The same trip that brought me to Zorro's house (in the previous post) allowed me to wander around some of the region Georgia Okeefe loved so much.

The tough old bird was a tough middle-aged bird when she finally moved to the high desert region of New Mexico in the 1940s. She lived at Ghost House on Ghost Ranch.

The Ranch is out in the country a bit from Abiquiu, and originally consisted of traditional adobe cabins. Abiquiu itself is just a blip of a stop off the secondary highway that goes on to Ghost Ranch.

I bring that up about Abiquiu because I'm always amazed when little places in the world can claim large amounts of renown in our culture. Most art students have heard of Abiquiu.

Ms. Okeefe was a survivor of the art game that won a seat for Modernism at the cultural table.

As I said, she was tough, sometimes ornery. Did what she was going to do, and devil be damned.

She first came to Ghost Ranch as a guest of the owners, who were patrons of art and culture.

The house she stayed in was dubbed Ghost House, which is also the title of the painting above.

I just wanted to encapsulate my whole Okeefe experience through this iconic reference to her visits and eventual residence there.

The artist is remembered throughout the region for her art and folks who are anywhere nearby tend to seek out the places she painted and where she lived, both at the ranch and in Abiquiu.

Ghost Ranch has survived as a place where art pursuits are maintained. Summer sessions are held there by universities and associations. The modern world keeps moving on, moving forward ... sometimes just moving.

New generations come and make their own acquaintance with the dry, spiky landscape.

But there was a time when outsiders didn't come here much. Georgia Okeefe and her generation of artists gravitated to the area because it was inexpensive and not as miserable as New York in the winter.

And their art showed the world why they kept coming back.

A New Pal

Zorro Leads the Way

Went along on wife's business trip to Albuquerque.

When business was done, we rented a place in north nowhere New Mexico, near the Chama River. A good place to be when you want to get away for awhile.

Abiquiu, home of famed, long-deceased artist Georgia Okeefe, is just around the corner.

Our rental is a horseshoe-shaped, owner-built home of amazing charm and utility. Adobe brick inner walls and large round river-rock outer shell. So well insulated we never felt the desert night chills. Water in the birdbath froze every night we were there.

The house is surrounded by miles of desert expanse.

An added plus to the rental is pictured above, "Zorro, Desert Dog."

Zorro belongs to the landlady, but immediately fell into a routine with me (or did I fall in with him?). He probably felt that renters were temporary loaner pals for his walks.

Every day we were there, he'd be waiting bright and early to go take inventory over the dunes out back. He proudly showed me all his desert brush, low trees, some random hares, wadis and whatnot.

I looked out the window one afternoon as Zorro calmly sat there. A herd of about 20 horses was moving from the desert toward the Chama to water. It was a regular occurrence for him, but it excited the heck out of me.

Calm seemed to be the bedrock of Zorro's nature.