Brian Paccione and Jon Vigil on Capturing the Spirit and Resilience of Las Trampas

Interview by Hanna Churchwell, HSFF Education & Communications Coordinator

Historic Santa Fe Foundation (HSFF) Executive Director Pete Warzel invited Brian Paccione to our offices at El Zaguán last summer to discuss ALABADO, a documentary film– currently in production– exploring the spiritual lives of Las Trampas' Hispano community. Shortly after the meeting, HSFF became the fiscal sponsor for Brian’s project. This spring I traveled to Las Trampas to plan HSFF’s upcoming event at San José de Gracia Church and met with Brian and ALABADO’s co-producer Jon Vigil. Our conversation veered from event logistics to their relationship with each other, the community of Las Trampas, and filmmaking and later motivated the questions asked in the interview below.

Brian paccione (LeFT) and Jon Vigil (right)

Hanna Churchwell (HC): What brought you together? What was the catalyst for making a documentary film about the community of Las Trampas? 

Brian Paccione (BP): I was navigating a very difficult time in my life and as New Mexico does for so many people who are working to understand pain and loss, the place beckoned to me. I did not know where I was going or what my journey meant– but on a hot day in early July I drove into Las Trampas…and San José de Gracia Church spoke to me. I could hear it breathing, through its skin– generations of mud. The church was (and still is) very much alive to me. As expected, it was locked, but a rough and tender local guy, Leroy Aguilar (RIP), pointed to a small home up the hill– “If you want to see the church, knock on that door.” I knocked on the door and met Jon– and the rest is history.  For the next six years, I came back to Las Trampas a few times a year. It was a place that somehow understood me– and I felt it was asking me to understand it better. It felt right to spend time with the people who lived there, deepen my friendship with Jon, and learn why I felt such a deep connection to this land, its history, and the culture it expressed. Four years ago, another period of loss brought me back to Las Trampas to heal. But this time, I took a deeper step towards my connection to the village. I wanted to make contact with this community in a more intentional, spiritual, and focussed way – and the only way I know how to do that is to make a film. Working with Jon is something that is hard to put into words. Jon is one of my best friends. It could have been anyone behind that door ten years ago. But it was Jon. My friendship with Jon is one of the things I am most grateful for in my life. It has been a source of strength in some of the most difficult times. We help each other. We are bonded by our struggles and are committed to the same spiritual journey. He inspires me and has taught me so much. It’s a very special thing.

HC: Can you say a few words about several events which recently impacted the village and the role they have played in shaping the outcomes of the community of Las Trampas? 

BP: Our film opens with the death of Jose Liberato Lopez, the mayordomo of the San José de Gracia Church. Jose was the leader of the Las Trampas community and was a powerful unifying force for the village. His power was expressed in his devotion towards the caretaking of the church. His family has lived in Las Trampas for hundreds of years and Jose protected the knowledge and traditions of this community, holding these families together through economic hardship and changing times. Without Jose, the future of this church– and Las Trampas– was imperiled. Still reeling from Jose’s death, the villagers turn to Rose Vigil, who accepts the responsibility of mayordoma of the church. Rose is the emotional core of Las Trampas. Her heart is big, and her spirit is felt by all. But when Rose is diagnosed with terminal cancer, Las Trampas must not only reckon with the loss of another beloved member of their community, but the reality that their sacred way of life is changing. When Rose passes away from cancer the community is left to deal with the absence of two of its most important members. Our film creates a space for their absence, a time to mourn this loss, and a journey towards rebirth and renewal for the Las Trampas community.

HC: Can you elaborate a bit on the themes of spirituality and community in your film? How would you describe the interplay between ancestral rituals and contemporary society in Las Trampas? 

BP: As the Chicano elders of Northern New Mexico pass away, so do their rituals. The tools used to cope with loss and heal from trauma are fading. These communities are predominantly senior– the young people are leaving and have no interest in an agrarian life tied to the land. Drugs are a serious problem. Our film investigates the drug situation in Northern New Mexico, its effect on these communities and how it has replaced many of the traditional ways of life for these villages. How can a spiritual life prevail when ancestral traditions compete with the social complexities of a contemporary society? How does life go on after the unspeakable happens to us? What can we learn from these communities and their ancestral knowledge? What can they teach us about processing loss? Our film is an investigation of these questions. At a time particularly marked by upheaval and catastrophe, we turn to Las Trampas to better understand how to endure the pain of heartbreak, trauma, and death. The rituals of this Chicano/Hispano community are a metaphorical and literal model of our own communities– and they provide lessons in healing. 

 HC: Through interviews, ALABADO explores the relationship of individuals to traditions and the broader community in Las Trampas. How important was it for ALABADO to emphasize their stories?

BP: Our film not only preserves the voices, songs, and spirit of this vanishing cultural group for future generations, but functions as an independent creative ceremony that mobilizes the entire Las Trampas community to work on a different kind of “church”– a documentary film– to invite them to reflect on and build their culture. Our film mobilizes the villagers of Las Trampas to participate in the story of their culture by providing an organized opportunity to reflect on their inner lives and express their perspectives.  Much like the John Collier Jr. photographs taken in the 1940s, our film not only functions as a valuable reference point for researchers and historians, but as a way for future generations of Hispano/Chicano communities to recognize their identity and be inspired to contribute to the representation of their culture.

HC: Can you speak on your process of conducting interviews?

BP: Our interviews are collaborative conversations. We sit and ask our subjects what they would like to talk about, and we listen to them. We bring curiosity, empathy, and vulnerability. This is an exchange of feelings– a heart-to-heart relationship in which Jon and I share our personal struggles as well. 

HC: How has the focus changed over time, especially after having filmed your first round of interviews?

BP: The focus has not changed. The focus was always to celebrate the power of the human heart to endure suffering and engage in a spiritual cycle of life, death, and rebirth.

HC: Of the people you have spoken with so far, and the insights they shared with you, is there one conversation in particular that has resonated with you?

BP: There is a great and deep love for all the participants of our film. I respect them. They have taught me so many things. There is one thing that Ray Pacheco mentioned that I think about a lot. He asks the Lord, “Why? Why all the suffering? And why can’t you take the pain away?” The Lord answered him. “Because,” answers the Lord, “if I took your pain away, then you will forget about me.”

HC: Jon, how would you describe your relationship to Las Trampas, both the community and the built environment, when you were young? How has that relationship evolved over the years, especially with your art and now with ALABADO.

Jon Vigil (JV): I would describe my relationship with the community as being one with everything. I am quite quiet and reserved. I find comfort in observing and connecting with the unique energy that truly exists in this place. I don’t know if it can honestly be described. The energy here is just one of you either feel it and connect or you don’t. My process has always just been one of an observer. I would also add that my relationship with the town has changed much over the years. I am very even keeled and try to just be true to myself, respectful of those I interact with, and allow for whatever it is that is spoken either energetically or otherwise to be listened to. I truly believe one of the reasons Brian and I connected is that both of our energies fit with this place and the spirit of these mountains. It’s a very serene presence. We both understand there is something that is very special here. We both have worked to be at one with everything and allow for the process to unfold as it sees fit. The process in this film has been quite difficult at times. Many of the subjects in the film are very close to me. Some family and some very close friends. It can be very hard to sit back and listen to them speak on very difficult subject matter at times. As an empath I absorb so much of what’s around me so I try my best to balance all of that while at the same time trying to just be an objective listener. 

HC: Brian, your films share common themes of love, loss, and faith. Have your prior experiences navigating those themes informed your approach to making ALABADO?

BP: Yes. It is all I am interested in, and I think it’s what makes my work useful to me and hopefully useful to others. I have very deep questions about these things– how to love, how to let go, what it all means– and I turn to the artistic gestures of others to understand these questions better.  All I want to do is to be a part of that tradition– of making things that people can use to hopefully understand how to love better. I try to design a process that helps me, the people in my film, and the audience do that. Making films is therapy.

HC: The shots featured in the teaser are intimate and immersive. What inspired the visual language of the film?

BP: The visual language is inspired by tapping into the energy of the mountains and the soul of the people who live under them. In many ways, the energy of the place and the people there tell you where to put the camera– you cannot impose, this is about listening– and it is a very intuitive thing. We come very highly sensitized and ready to serve the energy that is presented to us. We follow the light, and the light shows us where to go. You mention intimacy. Intimacy is a very important word for me. It is all about healthy intimacy. Everything I do is aiming for intimacy. For me, it is about understanding. It is about getting close and private and sharing in a moment. 

HC: Where are you in the production process? What are some of the obstacles you have encountered during production?

BP: We have around 65% of the film shot. We will be shooting the remaining 35% of the film in June 2023. As far as my personal obstacles, I recognize I am an outsider. It has taken years of visiting and thinking and feeling my way through this community to feel that I was ready to engage creatively with it. I am still learning and still responding and changing and adapting my approach. Many of our obstacles have been the mistakes of those who came before us– the carelessness of simplistic representation in the media, the greed of corporate industrialization/nuclearization, and the violence of colonization. Through patience, conversation, and collaboration we work very hard to ensure that this community understands we are here to listen and make something beautiful together. We are here to build trust and ensure that our intentions are clear. There is also a personal obstacle, which is just the nature of documentary filmmaking– these projects take time. This is good, since it means continued sensitization and continued reflection– but I think it’s difficult for any artist to sit with a project for years, through chapters of your life and the lives of the participants. It’s a long journey.

 HC: Who are you making this documentary for and what do you hope your audience takes away from watching it? Or What do you hope the takeaways are for people from Las Trampas who will watch the film? And for viewers outside of the community?

BP: Our film takes this position confidently: that there are forces at work more powerful than we are, there are energies that bind us together, and that the echo of those who came before us can be felt and seen if we open our eyes wide enough. Our process and technique is forged from this perspective. Our film is a prayer. The theater is our church, and our audience are parishioners. In the darkness, they are here to reckon with themselves while asking silent energies for guidance and answers. Through the drama of light, angle, silence, and composition, our visual and auditory approach is designed to bring an audience to their knees, open them to spiritual communication, and encourage them, regardless of belief, to connect with the primal gesture of submission, meditation, and inner conversation. I believe in the power of a creative act to heal. I believe in equating this creative gesture to a sacred ritual. I believe in the resulting creative object to serve as a vessel between the spiritual world and our waking life. I believe that cinema has the ability to make the transcendent sensorial. Our film is an expression of these ideals. It is a sacred invitation to silent reflection, communal action, and spiritual awakening. I hope the people from Las Trampas watch our film and are proud. I want them to be proud of who they are and where they come from. I want them to share and celebrate who they are, together and with love. At the end of the day, I just want to make something beautiful. Not aesthetically– that counts, yes– but beautiful as in truthful and pure of heart.

HC: Is there anything you would like to add?

BP: We need your help. Making films is very difficult and very expensive. This is a personal film– it is built with our own sweat and blood. It is made with our hearts. For years, this film has been financed only by us. We have saved and have worked very hard for this story– and we will not be able to complete the film unless we receive additional support. We will need an additional $10,000 to bring the story of Las Trampas to you. This money ensures that we work ethically and responsibly in a way that reflects and respects the spirit of this story. Thank you for the opportunity to share our hearts with you– and we invite you to take this journey with us.

JV: In very difficult periods of my life, I have literally had angels show up at my doorstep. Brian has been one of those angels. We have weathered some very strenuous phases of life together and will continue to weather many more. The process for this film started at one of those points in life where we both needed healing from the difficulties life throws. This film begins with the community getting hit with some heavy blows. I truly believe that this film can be the angel the Las Trampas community as a whole needs in its time of need. We both have found so much healing in this process and hope to spread that healing beyond just the two of us. The support given to us in doing this project has been something neither of us will ever forget. We appreciate it more than any words could ever say.

Initial funding for the project has been granted to Brian Paccione by the Eugene V. and Clare E. Thaw Charitable Trust with the Historic Santa Fe Foundation serving as fiscal sponsor for this grant. Additional funding is appreciated. Donate to the project here.


ABOUT BRIAN (DIRECTOR, PRODUCER, CINEMATOGRAPHER)

Brian Paccione's
films have enjoyed international recognition for their spiritual, sensitive, and passionate accounts of love, loss, and faith. He holds a BA in both film and biology from Vassar College as well as an MFA from the Columbia University Graduate Film program. In addition to writing and directing his own work, Brian currently teaches film production at SUNY Purchase College and Brooklyn College. For more information on Brian's work visit his website.

ABOUT JON VIGIL (PRODUCER, CINEMATOGRAPHER)

Jon Vigil has spent more than a decade as a freelance videographer and photographer in his native state of New Mexico. Inspired by all that is unique to the region, Jon found his voice in the same adobe home where his great grandfather Juan Lopez once lived. Jon's personal projects serve to celebrate and preserve the culture of his family and his village in Northern New Mexico.

Casa Santa Fe: A Book Review

Casa Santa Fe: Design, Style, Arts and Tradition

Photography by Melba Levick
Text by Dr. Rubén Mendoza
Rizzoli International Publications, Inc.
Hardcover, $55.00
288 pages

Review by Pete Warzel

The book that set the “style”, Santa Fe Style by Christine Mather and Sharon Woods, was published thirty years ago, in April. The past six months seems to have opened the floodgates on related publications, with Santa Fe: Sense of Place and Santa Fe Modern both published at the end of 2022, and now Casa Santa Fe: Design, Style, Arts and Tradition just released in 2023. They all are hefty, elegant books, each taking that original look at Santa Fe homes and gardens a step further in breadth and quality of the photography.

David Skolkin designed this most recent book for Rizzoli. David did the scheme for our very own 2022 publication, Old Santa Fe Today, and although different in purpose, is just as elegant as the house-style publications.

Casa Santa Fe is a handsome, substantial book, replete with engaging photographs of the subject houses. Melba Levick, photographer, has contributed to over sixty books, including two other collaborations with archeologist and educator Dr. Rubén Mendoza – The California Missions and The Spanish Style House: From Enchanted Andalusia to the California Dream. Rizzoli has found a duo that presents very well.

The cover jacket is a photo of the Amelia Hollenback House, an extraordinary John Gaw Meem house built in 1932, that was the site of one of our Steward events in 2021, thanks to Temple and Mickey Ashmore. Coincidentally, the back jacket cover is an image of the Donaciano Vigil House, the location of another of our Steward events in 2022, hosted by Christopher Watson. (Both of these houses also have entries in the book proper). The Vigil House is listed on the Historic Santa Fe Foundation Register of Properties Worthy of Preservation, and wears our shield plaque proudly on its exterior adobe plaster wall. Four other homes on the HSFF Register are included in the book, with excellent interior photographs of each.

The book begins with a comprehensive introduction by Dr. Mendoza that addresses the pre-history and history of the Santa Fe area, evolution of architectural styles, and the architects who worked to present a livable, visually pleasing, built environment that stewards the heritage of the area. Casa Santa Fe presents elegant home facades, grounds, and interiors, in defined sections: Historic and Spanish Pueblo Revival, Meem houses, Collector’s homes, Eclectic adobes, Artists’ homes, houses of the Cinco Pintores, Ranches, and finally Contemporary homes. The broad survey is interspersed between home entries with two page photo essays on various subjects that flow from the preceding chapters: tins and lanterns, portales, fireplaces and hornos, nichos, and more. This structure provides a feast of visual elements that define design and style of how we envision the city’s architecture.

All of the homes are wonderfully presented. We obviously have interest, and pride, in the homes designated on the HSFF Register. Of special interest to me are several other houses that are stunning in design, or provide room for collections that define the space or its owners. Architect Beverley Spears’ family house is a contemporary adobe house with barrel vaulted ceilings, creating what Mendoza terms a “sanctuary for the owners.” In the “Collector” section of the book, the home of Christina and Curt Nonomaque pictures a shelf in a dining area, that holds an extraordinary collection of Patrocino Barela carvings, certainly the most I have ever seen in one place. J.B. Jackson’s house in La Cienega, now owned and restored by the artist Billy Schenck and Rebecca Carter, is an expansive museum of art and prehistoric ceramics. All fascinating. Each a special look at properties that are so individually, personally designed.

The book ends with a glossary of terms, completing the excellent survey of residential architecture that helps to define the aesthetic of northern New Mexico. It is an elegant reminder of why Santa Fe feels like home to so many of us around the world.

Preservation Projects Manager Mara Saxer departing HSFF to begin a new adventure

Mara Saxer joined the Historic Santa Fe Foundation in 2015. For over seven years, Mara was a dedicated part of the Foundation’s team, first as the Preservation Specialist and later as our Preservation Projects Manager. Last Thursday was Mara’s last day with us– now she is seizing the opportunity to travel. We are excited for her to embark on this new journey and want to acknowledge the extent of her work at El Zaguán.

Mara’s contributions stretched far beyond the space constraints of a weekly email or blog post. She took on the restoration of the Garcia House as well as the “Sisyphusian task of maintaining the entrance of HSFF’s El Zaguán.” Mara has also been an adroit mentor and resource to our preservation trades interns, contributor to the El Zaguán Master Plan and fifth edition of Old Santa Fe Today, and manager of HSFF’s preservation easement program. Mara possesses invaluable skills, talents, and experiences in preservation, and we are lucky she shared them with us to the Foundation’s great benefit.

Sincere thanks Mara, for all you have done for the Foundation and the care of El Zaguán.

Email hanna@historicsantafe.org to send your well wishes to Mara, and we will pass along your messages.

David, Age 14: A Book Review

David, Age 14: Who and what determine our children’s health, education and future by Dr. Katherine Ortega Courtney and Dominic Cappello*

Independently published 142 pages
Paperback $9.50 from Amazon

Reviewed by Hanna Churchwell

Dr. Katherine Ortega Courtney and Dominic Cappello worked for the New Mexico Child Protective Services Research, Assessment and Data Bureau, where they co-developed the Data Leaders for Child Welfare program- now they guide the 100% New Mexico Initiative as co-directors of the Anna, Age Eight Institute at New Mexico State University.

The framework and data Dr. Katherine Ortega Courtney and Dominic Capello presented in 2017’s Anna, Age 8 served the authors well in their launch of the 100% New Mexico Initiative and in writing their latest book David, Age 14: Who and what determine our children’s health education and future. Through a mixture of straightforward and persuasive writing, journal entries from each author exploring their experiences and frustrations with our current systems, and the fictional but very real story of David, age 14– a stand-in for many children in Santa Fe and across the country– the authors advocate for preventing adverse childhood experiences (ACEs) and argue research on the topic paints a clear picture of how prevention of ACEs is central to combating diseases of despair and intergenerational cycles of trauma and poverty.

The book proposes that children be given a legal right to survive and thrive and that our local government uphold the right through providing 10 necessary services to all members of the community: distribution of food, provision of shelter, medical care, behavioral health care, parent support, early childhood learning programs, community schools with health centers, youth mentoring, workforce training, and transportation to all these services. The initiative is ambitious–it has to be. The ten services proposed must be implemented simultaneously, easily accessed, and carried out over decades to be effective– a repellent notion to government officials and funders motivated by instant gratification.

There is an optimistic and motivating side to this otherwise emotionally-exhausting read in the authors’ assertion that ACEs and the systems which perpetuate them are not inevitable natural disasters but man-made disasters our community can confront on the local, county level. Ortega Courtney and Cappello firmly place the problem in our hands, asking us to shed our feelings of powerlessness and replace them with the will to change. If you are looking for tangible, data-driven ideas on forming healthier communities accompanied by actionable steps and community buy-in, this book is for you. 

*Dominic Capello is currently a resident artist at HSFF’s El Zaguán.

Olive Rush and Her Legacy

INTRODUCTION

Following is an article written by Bettina Raphael regarding Olive Rush, and her home and studio at 630 Canyon Road. Listed on the Historic Santa Fe Foundation Register of Properties Worthy of Preservation as the Olive Rush Studio, it is a significant property that spans three distinct periods of the history of Canyon Road– as a farm house, the agricultural roots so difficult to see now on the street, the early Santa Fe artists colony, and finally, the long period of use for the Friends Meeting. It is a distinctive and quiet place on the bustle of the street. - Pete Warzel, HSFF Executive Director

WRITER’S BIO

Bettina Raphael is an art conservator in private practice. A professionally trained objects conservator, Bettina Raphael graduated with an M.A. degree from the Art Conservation Program in Cooperstown, NY in the 1970s. After a year’s internship at the Smithsonian Institution she went on to work with conservation studios in Virginia, Birmingham, England, at the University of Denver, and the Museum of New Mexico. Raphael has spent the last 30 years working in the Southwest focused on the preservation treatment and care of objects of archaeological, ethnographic and historic origin in museums and private collections. Raphael’s research interests have included the life and work of the 18th cen. restorer in Venice, Pietro Edwards; the construction and care of Southwestern tin decorative arts from the early 20th century; and most recently, the career trajectory of Olive Rush, the versatile and inspired painter who settled in Santa Fe, NM.

 

PHOTOGRAPH BY SIMONE FRANCES FOR OLD SANTA FE TODAY (5TH EDITION)


PHOTOGRAPH BY SIMONE FRANCES FOR OLD SANTA FE TODAY (5TH EDITION)

OLIVE RUSH AND HER LEGACY, AN ARTICLE BY BETTINA RAPHAEL

In 1966, the small Religious Society of Friends (Quakers) Meeting in Santa Fe, NM came to occupy its recent home, the historic house and garden of the painter, Olive Rush. It is an unlikely occurrence for a Quaker meeting to have a patron and even more so for the benefactor to be an artist, given Friends’ long history of disparaging the arts as frivolous and vain. Thus, Santa Fe Meeting’s relationship with our “patron”, Olive Rush, is quite unique and has been a source of pride as well as of controversy.     

A birthright Quaker born in Fairmount, Indiana, Ms. Rush spent most of her 90+ years pursuing her artistic calling, first as an art student on the East Coast, later as a young illustrator and easel painter in New York, Indianapolis and Europe. During her last 46 years, 1920-1966, she settled in Santa Fe, the art colony of the Southwest, where she was often termed the “First Lady of the Arts”. In 1948, Ms. Rush was a founding member of the Santa Fe Meeting, a small group of 6 -8 members who met usually in each other’s homes. At her death, Olive’s 100 year-old farmhouse on Canyon Road provided a permanent meetinghouse to this group of Friends and a future center for Quaker activities that would also serve as a memorial to her parents and her own religious, artistic, and civic values.  

The year 2020 marked the 100th anniversary of Olive Rush’s arrival in Santa Fe. It was also a critical moment in the development of the Meeting she helped found, as it struggled to integrate the group’s current spiritual and space needs with the responsibility of maintaining a significant historic property. It is an appropriate time to acknowledge both what this pioneering artist contributed to her Southwestern community and the difficult challenges the Meeting now faces in honoring her wishes to preserve the property she donated.

Born on an Indiana farm, Rush Hill, in 1873, Olive was one of seven children of the Quaker minister, Nixon Rush and his wife Louisa Winslow Rush. She showed a gift for drawing at an early age and was encouraged by her parents. Apparently their own artistic interests had been discouraged under earlier Quaker restrictions. At seventeen she left home to study art and history at Earlham College in nearby Richmond, Indiana. After a year, she entered the art program at the Corcoran School of Art in Wash. D.C., and continued her studies at the Art Students League in New York City, the Pennsylvania Academy, and the Boston Museum School. Studying with the renowned illustrator Howard Pyle in Wilmington, DE, she honed her drawing skills, began an interest in mural painting and shared studio space there with her life-long friend and fellow painter, Ethel Pennewill Brown.  

By the age of thirty, Rush had established a successful career as an illustrator in New York City, working on various publications including children’s books and women’s magazines of the day. She also painted portraits on commission, particularly of mothers and children. She made two trips to Europe to study with painters and to witness first-hand the modern art movement germinating there.

In 1914, at the age of 41, Olive accompanied her father on the minister’s missionary trip to Arizona and New Mexico. With his encouragement, she painted as they traveled. At the end of her first venture into the West, Olive’s art was acknowledged with an invitation to show her paintings in a one-woman exhibit at the Palace of the Governors in Santa Fe.   

Inspired by memories of the beauty and drama of the Southwest and in search of new modes of artistic expression, Olive returned to New Mexico in 1920 and became “the first important American woman artist to settle in Santa Fe.” 1 With savings and a small inheritance from her parents, she purchased an old farmhouse on Canyon Road, which was to become the center of the burgeoning art colony.  Once established in Santa Fe, Ms. Rush entered a new world of inspiring influences described here in her words:

 

“Artists are spiritual adventurers and the strange beauty of the Southwest country, splendid and generous, lyric at one turn, dramatic at another, invites us to dare all things. Compositions are marvelously made before our eyes, offering lesson after lesson in form and color.”2

Olive was a true pioneer, not merely for her inspired trek west to the newly recognized state of New Mexico, but for what she was able to achieve over her forty-plus years of residence here. It was a time when many considered this high desert destination a “wild territory”, and Olive arrived alone, a single woman at forty-seven years of age, a self-supporting artist from a modest Quaker background. She brought with her an open and inquisitive attitude and a hardiness developed through farm life,  education, and exposure to modern values. Sometimes misrepresented as a “retiring spinster”, Olive Rush was in fact one of the “New Women” of her time: a suffragette, an adventurer, a teacher, and a risk-taker seeking a less confined way of being a free woman than what was customary under the social strictures of life in the Midwest and the East Coast. She joined with many other free-spirited and courageous female transplants to the Southwest in exploring new possibilities, relationships, forms of activism, and creative expression. 

Once settled in Santa Fe, Olive found herself surrounded by the cultural traditions of both the Spanish and Indian communities and the presence of experimental artists who, like her, had been drawn to the art colony seeking a new way of seeing and painting. Olive’s artistic expression changed significantly as she moved beyond her bread-and-butter reliance on commercial or literary illustrations and family portraiture in oil on canvas. Rush turned to a more intimate scale and style, using watercolors often as her medium and subjects from nature and local life in New Mexico. At the same time, the artist became even bolder as she ventured more deeply into the realm of mural painting, having taught herself the Italian “old world” method of fresco painting on fresh plaster. She found the traditional adobe walls of Southwest architecture an ideal “canvas” for her fresco work. With these novel artistic ventures, Ms. Rush built a new public reputation in the region and joined in close camaraderie with many local artists, writers, anthropologists and cultural adventures. A regular exhibitor at the new Art Museum in Santa Fe, Olive was also a frequent participant in national juried shows, and group exhibits of Southwest modernists and women artists, gaining recognition by collectors far outside the Southwest. Today her drawings and paintings can be found in at least twenty major museums.  

After painting the adobe walls of her own home with lyrical frescos, Olive was commissioned to create larger murals in the homes and gardens of friends, including the heiress Mary Cabot Wheelwright, folk art museum-founder Florence Bartlett, and in public venues such as the dining room in the popular La Fonda Hotel. These initial experiments led to even more ambitious projects during the 1930s as Rush was commissioned to paint murals in the local public library, post offices and university buildings under the federal New Deal program.  One of these postal murals in Florence, CO, was recently commemorated with a U.S. postage stamp. At age 60, Olive Rush was still balancing on scaffolding while painting her water-based colors into wet plaster high up on public walls.

The practice of wall painting led Olive to a new meaningful “calling”.  When asked to paint the walls of the dining room in the local Federal Indian Boarding School, she offered to teach the students how to create their own murals there. The work by nine artists from mostly Southwestern tribes was a resounding success and this began a long relationship of encouragement and promotion by Ms. Rush of Native American artists. She managed to bring the work by young painters from the Indian School to the exhibition at the 1933 “A Century of Progress International Exposition” in Chicago. She later arranged travel and exhibits for the students to national museums including the Corcoran Gallery and the Museum of Modern Art, and promoted the sale of their works in galleries from Santa Fe to New York.  Olive felt a close resonance with these young artists, admiring the simplicity and directness of their artistic styles, the integrity of their spiritual traditions, and their respect for Nature.

Local Pueblo Indians, Hispanic neighbors, and cowboys from surrounding ranches found warm encouragement, welcome support and sometimes a place to stay at Olive’s studio on Canyon Road. This “ministry of hospitality” was generously offered to fellow women artists, young Quakers traveling across country, and family members as the Olive Rush Studio provided refuge for many. Throughout her life, Rush held a moral commitment in aid of the needy, the disenfranchised, and socially neglected.  Her advocacy included marching for women’s rights, promoting social activism in her classes for art students in Nebraska, joining local groups in the defense of Native Americans’ rights to practice their cultural traditions, and in the 1940s, volunteering on relief projects for refugees after World War II. 

In her later years, Olive’s art grew increasingly unrestricted by old criteria and less representational. As in the artwork of her chosen mentors (El Greco, Kandinsky, and Japanese brush painters), figurative interpretations of “reality” became less important and abstraction took on a larger role in her work. Some of her strongest work in the 1930s and 40s are watercolors depicting deer and antelope in airy, natural and sometimes ephemeral settings. These are often lightly painted, gentle in feel and “open” in the space she created on the paper. The quietness of these scenes has been compared to the silence of a Quaker Meeting, and it is possible that her repeated choice of depicting vulnerable, tentative, creatures such as these deer was Olive’s way of representing the soul or the tenderness of spirit she honored in all things.  

Throughout her life, her subjects as well as her innovative painting styles reflected her religious principles and Olive Rush often acknowledged the spirituality of art:  

 

“The task of the artist, she writes is to 'explore in his own way the spiritual possibilities of his art. Until he does that he is guilty, along with the man in the parable, of misuse of talents the landlord has given him.’” 3

“I believe that all art should carry without effort ‘the outward signs of an inward grace’.  You must learn your own best way of living and creating. You are an individual in art as in life.” 4

“For Rush, art could not be separated from how one lived one’s life, and likewise no aspect of life could be separated from her spirituality; thus, her studio and place of worship became one.” 5

Since Olive Rush’s death in 1966 until last year, her residence has served as the primary meetinghouse for Santa Fe Friends. The building’s interior retains the feeling of a private home with built-in features and cabinets from its first owner’s time and a lingering sense of calm that comforts many long-time attenders and visitors. Housed in the old adobe building is a range of original furnishings, Native American and Hispanic artifacts, personal memorabilia, and a variety of finished paintings and sketches by Olive. These along with archival records form the Olive Rush Collection. The combination of the historic structure, its forty years of use by the artist, its Quaker history, and the remains of original contents have come to embody the unique remembrance of a life and a period of Santa Fe history. 

The house is now only one of two original artist studios remaining intact on Canyon Road. Over the years under the Meeting’s care, the historic building of mud walls and weathered wooden beams have required constant maintenance and occasional restoration projects just to keep it stable and functional. Up until recently, a portion of the Meeting’s limited funding had gone toward general up-keep and repairs of the building. Long-term preservation and conservation projects for the exterior structure and interior collection have had to be postponed. 

In July 2022 the Santa Fe Meeting purchased a new property in the town to accommodate its need for a larger and newer space. This facility is appropriate to the group’s future plans. The age and intimacy of the old Rush facility, once valued as a comfortable “spiritual space” are now not so relevant and the stress of its upkeep today is considered a burden by many Friends. In recent months, the Meeting has explored selling the property, which would, I believe, override the original commitment made to Olive Rush to preserve and protect the studio and land for social not commercial use. Undoubtedly a property on Canyon Road could sell for a great deal of money with the likelihood of being converted to yet another gallery or residence or tourist shop, none of which were the uses Olive originally envisioned for her home and studio.

Meanwhile, members of the extended Rush Family from around the country have recognized the need to intervene for the perpetuation of this historic structure and its artistic legacy. They are proposing to assume responsibility for the property through the creation of a nonprofit foundation. Their vision is to make the facilities open to the public as an historic site honoring Olive Rush’s achievements, her Quaker values, and the importance of the art colony of Santa Fe. The Friends Meeting has remained divided on this offer. Olive envisioned just such a recycling or regifting of the property in conjunction with its preservation, when the Quakers would no longer need it. 

This is a moment when history can be acknowledged and stewarded. The Olive Rush Studio, Garden, and Collection can remain a concrete reminder for all Santa Fe residents and visitors of Olive Rush’s contributions and the role Santa Fe played for over 100 years as the art capital of the Southwest. The Rush Home and Studio can continue as an active resource: the spacious garden a unique place of respite on Canyon Road, a home-base for resident artists and scholars, a venue for future exhibits of Olive’s art as well as the work of young artists like those Ms. Rush wished to nurture. Here is an opportunity for the community and art admirers to recognize the significance of the Olive Rush legacy, and maintain the integrity of this most important house, studio, and garden on Canyon Road.  

CONTACT INFORMATION

Bettina Raphael, art and artifact conservator: bettinaraphael@msn.com
Liz Kohlenberg, great niece of Olive Rush and Chair of the proposed Olive Rush Memorial Studio: geoliz@comcast.net
Clerk of Santa Fe Monthly Meeting of Friends: sfmmclerk@gmail.com

FOOTNOTES

1. Stanley L. Cuba, Olive Rush: A Hoosier Artist in New Mexico, Minnetrista Cultural Foundation, Inc. Muncie, Indiana. 1992, page 45.
2. Stanley L. Cuba, Olive Rush: A Hoosier Artist in New Mexico, Minnetrista Cultural Foundation, Inc. Muncie, Indiana. 1992, page 43. From an artist statement in a 1925 exhibition catalog.
3. “Successes of Past Can’t Be Copied Forever, Says Miss Rush”, Santa Fe New Mexican, January 19, 1945, page 5.
4. “Thetford Le Viness Writes of Olive Rush in Kansas City Times”, Santa Fe New Mexican, January, 19, 1948.
5. Carol Gish, “Olive Rush: Spiritual Adventurer in the Southwest”, a paper written for the course “New Mexican Art and the Mainstreams” at the University of New Mexico, November, 1994, page 4.

Lucie Genay's Under the Cap of Invisibility: A Book Review by Pete Warzel

 

Under the Cap of Invisibility: The Pantex Nuclear Weapons Plant and the Texas Panhandle
By Lucie Genay
Foreword by Alex Hunt
University of New Mexico Press
Hardcover
304 pages
$85.00

Book review by Pete Warzel

There are three clues that Under the Cap of Invisibility is a scholarly work from a university press. The first is that academic books tend to have subtitles with more words than the title proper. Check. The second is that fifty eight pages of notes and twelve full pages of bibliography are a dead giveaway. The third is price. At $85 this is an academic work. That is unfortunate because although the research is impeccable, it does not read like a bookish treatise, rather it moves with the verve and good writing of a literary thriller. Lucie Genay writes a very good story. The UNMP may have priced themselves out of a popular book.

Lucie Genay is an associate professor of US civilization in the American Studies Department of the University of Limoges, France. She has taught English and American history there since 2009 and has focused her research and writing on the nuclear history of New Mexico. This book crosses the border into the Panhandle of Texas and the very interesting social, economic, and cultural environment around Amarillo. Genay states at the start of the book, “The objective of this book is both historical and anthropological….” It is that double focus that makes the work so deeply fascinating and rings true with the cultural milieu that is home to Cadillac Ranch, that Stonehenge of deceased Cadillacs, and The Big Texan Steak Ranch, with its 72-ounce steak challenge.

So, Pantex. The book cover is photo of a Texas highway road sign that points to Pantex,   Amarillo, and Panhandle.  You would think it just another town east of New Mexico. One premise of the book is that Consolidated Nuclear Security, LLC, the operator of Pantex for the US Department of Energy, would probably like you to think that, as hinted at by the main title – the cap of invisibility. I spoke to a friend of ours who has moved to Santa Fe from the Panhandle, and when asked about Pantex she was familiar with the name but could not remember what it was. My wife asked if it was town. Invisible.

Pantex is our country’s “sole assembly and disassembly plant for nuclear weapons….” The story here of its founding and obscure history fits the zeitgeist of the Panhandle. Nuclear and environmental protests struggled against a very compliant business climate in Amarillo until the local ranchers, deep in their history of the area, became concerned about the quality of water for their operations, for their cattle, and for their crops they were sending into the world in proximity to nuclear waste and accident.

Today there are 3,300 workers at this 16,000-acre facility on the Texas plains. Started as a conventional ordnance manufacturing plant during World War II, the facility evolved into several variations of nuclear-warhead assembly, disassembly, and storage. It is big business for Amarillo and Randall County, but comes with the gradual development of a good deal of angst in the local population. Genay takes a very close look at the political and sociological makeup of Amarillo and the surrounding county: conservative, religious, independent minded, and the tough can-do attitude blended with the business-first attitude of the state of Texas. Then of course there is the huge benefit of jobs and ancillary economics for the city. The benefits and historic attitude evolve to an attitude towards Pantex as the “benevolent nuclear bomb manufacturer…,” “benevolent” being the key word, “bomb manufacturer” not so much discussed. “The story of this book is how the pressure of pursuing growth can lead communities to willfully relinquish critical oversight and participate in the invisibility of the makers of their success.” The slogans printed at the plant and the newsletter sent out to employees tell of propaganda directed at a very willing population, the result being economic, religious, and patriotic excuses for living with fear.

Until the nuclear protests began, and then environmental activist appearances on site, Pantex existed quietly, mostly invisibly, in the countryside. There begins a questioning and some friction, and Genay dissects the religious arguments, the philosophic investigations of good for the country, supporting defending freedom by nuclear deterrence through manufacturing, and the “In God We Trust” attitude of a patriotic population.

She gives the entire history of place and function, setting a stage for the rationalization of the pros and cons, benefits and risks without taking a side, rather letting the facts and the people speak, and the book speaks so clearly in doing so. She waits until the final chapter to let the workers speak, as accidents and illness come to the fore, having been hidden in the history presented. Making an analogy to the canary in the coalmine trope, one worker states, “’We are those canaries.’  The pride remains of having worked on weapons that help to ‘keep this country free…,’” but there is a realization locally that “the same weapons had put workers ‘in bondage to illnesses.’”

A lot of this is unknown or forgotten history. Having lived in Denver for years I have not thought about the Rocky Flats plant disaster in a very long time. My memory was tweaked by this book, as well as the memory of my wife, Denise, who transferred from Atlanta to Denver with IBM, to serve their customer at Rocky Flats. I asked her about her experience there in database management during 1986 and 1987, and she said they knew something was up, there were whisperings, but she believed, as did most people there, that surely the government would not put people in jeopardy knowingly. The thick concrete walls assured safety. Ironic then that Pentax was a target site for the transference of plutonium pits for storage from Rocky Flats, after it was forced to shut down due to the disastrous waste chemicals and plutonium contamination following the “Operation Desert Glow” raid by the FBI in 1989.  Pu pits are the hollow spheres of plutonium that are the core of the nuclear warhead or bomb. When explosives compress the sphere, a nuclear explosion occurs.

Lucie Genay has done extensive research for a scholarly history of this almost invisible plant on the Panhandle plains of Texas, 72 miles across I-40 to the state border at the ghost town of Glenrio, Texas/New Mexico, straddling both states. She makes the connections to the other nuclear sites situated in the American west – away from major populations but inherently making the inference that this geographic population does not matter very much.  She has written an excellent, readable book of parallel lives and stories that is a necessary and fascinating read.