 Reprinted with Permission from Canvas Rebel Image Credit Hebe Garcia We’re excited to introduce you to the always interesting and insightful Hebé García. We hope you’ll enjoy our conversation with Hebé below. Hebé, appreciate you joining us today. We’d love to hear about when you first realized that you wanted to pursue a creative path professionally. Since childhood, I have always been interested in drawing and painting. I used to watch my mother paint with admiration, and I still clearly remember the smell of turpentine, her oil paints, and her brushes. She kept all her art supplies in a room we called “The Empty Room,” which was not empty at all. It was filled with books, magazines, a sewing machine, photo albums, a black and white television, and an ironing board. However, the most important thing to me was my mother’s artwork. She was an amateur artist who had taken drawing and painting classes as a teenager. I loved watching her copy photographs of flowers, landscapes, and sometimes even the human figure with her oil paintings and chalk pastels. To me, they were masterpieces. I once attempted to drink the turpentine she had poured into a glass. It tasted terrible, but as it is told in my family, it was as though the spirit of art had entered my bloodstream. Art class was always my favorite subject in school, and I enjoyed any project that required an artistic touch. Soon, my teachers discovered my artistic inclination and entrusted me with decorating bulletin boards and designing syllabus covers. I used to daydream about becoming an artist and mastering the painting process. In 1982, I applied to the Art Department at the University of Louisiana at Lafayette and was accepted. Despite some personal doubts, I was excited about what the future held and left the comfort of my home to pursue my aspirations. I took my first official drawing class at UL Lafayette. I followed it up with a strong curriculum in Painting, Printmaking, Screen Printing, Jewelry, Art History, and more. This opened my eyes to the world of French Impressionists, Vienna Secessionists, and the Pre-Raphaelites, among others. Their works particularly captivated me as they told stories within the artwork itself. I was drawn to making a work of art that could speak to the viewer and evoke diverse feelings. In 1986, I graduated from the University of Louisiana at Lafayette with a degree in Fine Arts. I returned to Puerto Rico thinking of applying for a master’s degree in art at the Sorbonne University and immersing myself like the Impressionists in the art world of Paris. My goal was to become a professional artist, but instead, I got married, and my career took a backseat for 23 years. When my daughters went to college, I finally decided to pursue my dream. I joined the San Juan Art League and spent four years surrounded by other artists, which helped jumpstart my career. Since then, I have worked hard, participating in both collective and solo exhibitions, and have made a name for myself in the art scene in Puerto Rico and, more recently, in my new homestead in Abiquiu, NM.   As always, we appreciate you sharing your insights and we’ve got a few more questions for you, but before we get to all of that can you take a minute to introduce yourself and give our readers some of your back background and context? I was born in Miami, Florida, but spent my formative years in San Juan, Puerto Rico. In 2015, my spouse and I embarked on a bold move, relocating to Abiquiu, New Mexico, near our daughters who resided in Texas. My work as an artist entails creating figurative oil paintings and ceramic sculptures that explore feminism, mythology, and cultural heritage. The human form is the focal point of my works, frequently blurring the line between reality and surrealism. I aim to provide my audience with several possibilities, enabling them to engage, connect, and formulate their interpretations. I find oil painting and clay sculpting equally challenging and exhilarating, so I often switch between the two mediums. Ideas come to me spontaneously, particularly while driving or in dreams. Once an idea takes root in my subconscious, I become obsessed and feel compelled to bring it to life. My painting process often begins with creating a sketch, using art model poses, and modifying them with Adobe Photoshop until the composition, color palette, and theme harmonize. This sketch is transferred onto the canvas, and I begin a dialogue with the artwork. At this point, I may make modifications to the drawing until it accurately conveys my vision. Next, I apply layers of oil paint slowly, commencing with a transparent oxide red base color, which often enhances the nuances and gradations of the other colors used. Patience is crucial when working with oils, as it is essential to achieve a result that exudes the life, texture, and mystique I strive for. In the latter stages of my artistic career, I discovered the art of sculpting in clay. A fellow puertorrican artist suggested I join a group of sculptors at a clay studio. What followed was a cathartic moment for me, and since then, whenever I feel stressed or drained from painting, I turn to clay for solace, or vice versa. I am more impulsive when sculpting than when painting. I usually do not begin with a sketch. Instead, I have a concept and dive straight into building the sculpture. I prefer using mid-fire stoneware clay such as Laguna’s Red Sculptural or Max’s Paper Clay. I construct the sculpture using coils and slabs, often using a mirror to ensure the figure’s features are accurate during the building process. Once the sculpture is complete, I fire it at cone 3, strengthening the piece and preparing it for glazing. I then glaze-fire the sculpture numerous times at lower temperatures until I am content with the surface treatment. In my artwork, I am captivated by the enigmatic aspects of human nature, both internal and external, and how we navigate our emotions, desires, fantasies, and impulses. As a result, my focus in art centers around figurative pieces. My paintings and sculptures are unique and original, created using only the finest archival materials to ensure longevity. My home and studio are atop a Mesa in Abiquiu, NM, affording a breathtaking 360-degree view that includes the legendary Cerro Pedernal, a favorite of Georgia O’Keeffe. This ancient land, steeped in history and enchantment, has inspired my work to new heights. I am a member of the New Mexico Potters and Clay Artists and the Gentileschi Aegis Gallery Association. My pieces form part of both private and public collections. They can currently be seen at the Nest Showroom in Abiquiu, as well as at the NOSA Inn and Restaurant at Ojo Caliente and at my studio gallery.    Can you tell us about a time you’ve had to pivot? In 2014, my spouse proposed relocating from Puerto Rico to the United States. He transitioned from managing a small business to working remotely and was eager for a significant change. My artistic career had only recently gained momentum in Puerto Rico, after a prolonged intermission. Consequently, I was keen on establishing myself further as an artist before any potential relocation. The primary incentive for the move was to be closer to our daughters, both living and working in Houston, Texas. We deliberated the matter for a considerable length of time and eventually decided to explore our options. In 2015, we sold our residence in Ponce, which was a significant event for us, having lived there for 28 years since our marriage. We visited Abiquiu, New Mexico, and were captivated by its serene locale, flourishing artistic community, and natural beauty. Although it was not Texas, it was sufficiently close to our daughters to facilitate regular visits. By the end of 2015, we had procured a plot of land in Abiquiu and relocated temporarily to Ojo Caliente while we constructed our home and studio. The decision to relinquish the security of our home and family and start anew at our age was not without challenges. Residing in a small Casita without a studio necessitated considerable effort. The construction of our new home in New Mexico proved to be problematic, as is typical of all construction projects, and took us two years to complete. Finally, in 2017, we relocated to our new home. I was then tasked with establishing myself in New Mexico’s art community. It required a great deal of diligence, perseverance, and dedication to promote my name, but it has been an enriching experience. The encounter gave me renewed energy and made me acknowledge that it is always feasible to start afresh. I am now a part of a thriving artist community that is stimulating and invigorating.    We’d love to hear the story of how you built up your social media audience?
As a late Baby Boomer, I find social media quite daunting, much like many of my contemporaries. However, with the assistance of my daughters, I have learned to utilize Facebook/Meta and Instagram. These platforms have allowed me to showcase my work, share pictures of my paintings and sculptures, and attract numerous clients. Additionally, I can publicize any upcoming solo or collective shows I will participate in. My husband is very tech-savvy and helped me create my website using the Squarespace platform. To make my social media accounts eye-catching and easy to navigate, I had to learn Adobe Photoshop. This tool has been handy in converting my artwork photos into the correct format for uploading to different platforms. Additionally, I can design postcards, flyers, and other promotional materials for social media and printing purposes. I am grateful to my daughters and husband for helping me navigate the world of social media as an artist. I advise other artists to take advantage of the accessible tools available to promote their work and not be afraid to use social media to their advantage. Contact Information for Hebe
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What do you think it should be called? We’re all coming down from the eclipse this week. Here, where I live, out of the path of totality, the clouds padded the view (and that eternal temptation to peek without glasses for just a split second; the sun used to get in my eyes while tracking Little League pop-ups and I’m not blind from that, right?). But the dogs and I still took a walk and experienced that eerie light, the unexpected chill. That light reminds me somewhat of the light on smoky forest-fire days. Which reminded me of this poem from the vault. Which reminds me that I have my next collection waiting for me to return to it  This is the light of discovering
I actually do like peaches. Of lithographic prints, ' of the inside of a paper lantern. This is the light I imagine, today, will frame the last days of our world. So what if I like it? Hating it won't put out the new wildfire, four hundred acres since breakfast alone. Feeling guilty for wonder and delight won't put back everything, everything, everything that has just gone up in smoke. This poem has no title (yet) and it hasn’t shown me the right one (yet). What do you think it should be called? Please feel free to share this public post with someone you think would appreciate it. Share By Jessica Rath You probably know that Abiquiú used to be a Tewa settlement called Ávé-shú', meaning Chokecherry Path. So were Poshu-owingeh, the site 2.5 miles south of Abiquiú, and Tsi-p’in-owinge' near Cañones. In fact, traces of Tewa Pueblos can be found all throughout the Chama Valley. Some of these are access-restricted, like the Tsama Pueblo (Tsámaʔ ówîngeh, its Tewa name), an ancestral Tewa community along the Rio Chama.  From a recent visit. Image credit April Brown Landowners in the surrounding areas have donated parcels that were part of the Pueblo to the Archaeological Conservancy which owns and manages the site. It is a non-profit organization which was created in 1980, with the mission to preserve, manage, and maintain archaeological sites which are part of our cultural heritage. Among the almost 600 archaeological preserves all across the United States which are maintained by the Conservancy are some preserves at Chaco Culture National Historical Park (the Conservancy has many Chacoan outlier sites in the Four Corners, but doesn’t manage the overall Historical Park),, a UNESCO World Heritage Site, and – Tsama. The current site stewards of the Tsama Pueblo are Greg Lewandowski and his wife Sharon, who moved here from Michigan some twenty five years ago. They not only agreed to an interview, but also put me in touch with April Brown, the Conservancy’s Southwest Regional Director, and Mandy Woods, April’s assistant and Southwest Field Representative. They revealed some truly amazing facts about the site and its history.  Aerial view of East Plaza, Image credit Greg Lewandowski  Greg and Sharon had a neighbor who moved away and who donated an 80-acres long parcel along with two other parcels (that each were around 20 or 30 acres) to the Preserve. A few weeks back, April and Mandy came to visit the site, and they all went on an extensive tour. “They have magic eyes”, Greg told me. “I don't know what else to call it, but they can see things on the ground that to us look like things on the ground. And to them, they pick it up and all of a sudden it's this incredible piece with all this really amazing history to it. Sherds and glass and tools and areas where you can see the outline of buildings. These were adobe buildings, going back about 700 years. You can see the outline of the buildings, but we never noticed these things before. We would just walk around and pick up a few sherds, but our experience with April and Mandy was really amazing: they could see these things and teach us what was going on there. So we'll continue to be the site stewards for the entire property.” April continues: “There's a large village site there on that mesa, and there were between 1100 and 1400 rooms in the Pueblo”. Incredible! When I heard this, I wondered whether Tsama wasn’t more than a village! I was curious to know when these excavations had started. Mandy told me that there were in fact three main excavations. The first one happened between 1929 and 1934, undertaken by Robert Greenlee and HP Mera. Mera was the first person who actually mapped out the site, and a lot of what is known geographically is attributed to this 1934 report. The next major excavation at Tsama happened in 1970, and the most recent one was in 2008, but it wasn’t so much a full excavation – they were doing mapping methods: high resolution micro topographic instrument mapping. Come again – they were doing WHAT? “It's like a form of LiDAR (an acronym of “light direction and ranging”), it's used like LiDAR, where they would take variable layers of imaging to construct or deconstruct what the actual topography is”, Mandy explained. “It can survey archaeological sites and facilitate exact mapping”. April added: “This technology is one of the reasons that the conservancy preserves properties in the first place. We preserve these sites so that as technology advances, we can allow more research that's even less invasive. In the future, excavation won’t be happening as much in American archaeology, especially at Pueblo sites. Native Americans do not want us digging up their ancestors and their artifacts, but they don't mind us learning about them now. Some Pueblos are actively investigating their own ancestral sites right now; Ohkay Owingeh is one of those Pueblos. But a lot of Pueblos don't really want you digging around on their sites anymore. And we definitely have to consult them when we do these types of work”.  A shard. Image credit: April Brown So with this new technology, one can explore what is underneath the surface of the earth without having to disturb it. And that's absolutely amazing. “On top of it, we have all these collections which people have excavated from the 30s to the late 90s. And they probably haven’t been researched extensively. So to go back and look at the material culture – we can go back to these older collections, and students fill those in and learn more about them. We don't need to really dig up more artifacts to understand what was there”, April continued. This makes a lot of sense because what one would find now is similar to what has already been found. There is no need to dig places up and disturb sites that are sacred.  Shards from a recent visit. Image credit: April Brown I was curious: How is the site being protected? The Conservancy would like to close off the property to prevent ATVs and other vehicles from damaging the area, I learned. “The neighbors are our best defense sometimes when we have sites like this”, Mandy explains, “because they're not only protective of their own land, but they also know the importance of the site. It benefits us when sites are in a residential area, even as remote as this one. You have neighbors who help out, who pay attention and look out for the site and they stay in contact.” Can you see how people lived at the time and what they did, I wanted to know. April explained that yes, one can, because pottery is definitely diagnostic. “It gives us a lot of information about when the pottery was made and what kind of material it was made with. We can pin down a timeframe based on the type of pottery. That's why it's so important that people don’t collect pottery shards. It may seem like, ‘Oh, this is just on the ground, nobody will miss it’. But it still has a lot of information, and, once you've removed it from a place, it loses its context. Every sherd that's picked up by somebody is one less shard that's going to tell us something about the site”.  Biscuit weave pottery that was excavated from this site. Image credit Maxwell Museum. Mandy added that they know from the work that was done in the seventies that people in Tsama were holding turkeys. They found fragments and turkey bones. “They had an indoor turkey pen where they were holding the birds. We also know that they had craft groups. There was one group that was very specific with the manufacture and painting of arrows. Another one was dedicated to making pendants and necklaces and jewelry. We can imagine how these people lived here. They thrived here, they had ceremonies. Taking any of those artifacts removes not just the context, it removes any potential for learning. It removes the story. Every single piece on that property has a piece of history with its own story. And when it's removed you don't know anymore what that story is”. This can’t be stressed enough. Picking up a sherd has repercussions that people don't think about. It seems so innocuous – one finds all these broken pieces, there can’t be any harm in bending down and taking one home. But this is a myopic view. Every piece of pottery is there for a reason, and if I remove it, I poke a hole in the intricate fabric that once was a settlement where people lived for many generations. It’s like picking words out of a book – eventually, it loses its meaning and becomes unreadable. April and Mandy made this very clear. I asked about the Pueblo people’s food: what did they eat? What grains and vegetables? Is anything known about this? “They were definitely growing corn, squash, and beans – the “three sisters”, April explained. “And we’re assuming that they were hunting, besides raising their domestic turkeys”. Greg shared an interesting observation: “When we were walking there they were finding pieces that were from other Pueblos, that were not native to this area. It indicated that they traded with other Pueblos in the area”. “Absolutely,” April agreed. “They were trading all the way down to the Galisteo Basin. We were finding glazes from the Galisteo Pueblos which means they were traveling up and down and trading with one another. We find biscuit ware and pottery from other sites too. So we know that they were trading in different areas”. “All the Pueblos were trading amongst each other. You'll find, for example, that they were getting their obsidian from the Jemez Mountains. So, the Pueblos here were probably gathering the obsidian and trading it. And then you had the Galisteo Basin down there where they were mining turquoise, and they were known for their turquoise production. They were definitely trading turquoise, and you'll find Cerrillos Hills turquoise all up and down the Rio Grande”. “They were also mining volcanic rock such as basalt for certain things”, Mandy added. “And then there is the Pedernal chert (flint stone), an extremely hard mineral that they would use to make lithics. They would use it for expedient tools and the hammerstones”.  I had one more question: how did this end? Why did they move away and abandon the Pueblo? Was there a famine, or did the Spaniards drive them away?
“They left before the Spaniards came”, April told me. “I don't think anyone really truly knows what happened. There is some speculation that there might have been some fighting going on amongst the Pueblo people or between some of the nomadic tribes like the Apache, Comanche, or Navajos. Maybe they were fighting with each other so they all left. They lived in all these small Pueblos up and down the Rio Chama, and I think they all abandoned those smaller Pueblos and moved into a larger Pueblo, probably somewhere near Ohkay Owingeh”. Mandy had additional information. “In one of the earlier reports I read that at one point, I think in the 1300s or 1400s, there were about 40 variable Pueblos up and down the valley. But by Oñate's 1602 census, there were only six Pueblos that remained. There was a lot less migratory emigration, and a lot more people were coming to these larger Pueblo communities versus settling in smaller ones”. “There could have been a drought, and maybe they were pooling their resources together for survival purposes”, April speculated. “It could have been a mixture of many different reasons, really. There's probably not one overarching reason why they all decided to abandon and I'm sure it didn't happen exactly all at the same time, either. It probably happened over 100 years or 200 years or something like that”. Well, by now you may be dying to visit Tsama; I know I am, because this sounds so absolutely fascinating. However, as mentioned earlier, the Pueblo is not open to the public. If you are interested in seeing the site, please email April Brown (swdirector.tac@gmail.com) and/or Mandy Woods (swfieldrep.tac@gmail.com) and arrange to meet them. When they visited over the last few months, they have been developing a guided tour and kindly offer to show you around. With many thanks to Greg and Sharon for making this captivating conversation possible, and to April and Mandy, of course – I always find it inspiring to talk with individuals who are passionate about what they’re doing.  By BD Bondy
Carol and I were driving through Espanola the other day and I saw a giant pickup truck with big wheels, very high clearance, and a snorkel. I was a bit enamored. Then I saw a sticker on the back window, Survivalist. This conjured up some depressing thoughts for me, Walking Dead, climate change, end of days, nuclear bombs, and civil war. Then I thought, well, I’m also a survivalist. Only, I want EVERYONE to survive. I got solar panels, drive a plug-in hybrid car with almost no emissions, preach peace, and hate guns. I’m rooting for all mankind to get along and help one another. As far as I can tell, it’s not having much effect on the world, but it’s still a cause worth ‘fighting’ for, or at least discussing. My mom asked me a couple years ago if I thought there would be a civil war in this country. I said I didn’t think so. That seemed more of a media, especially social media, false story, meant to promote the idea. These days it can be difficult to know the facts, so I tend to stick with big name news outlets that actually pay journalists to do investigative reporting. There are plenty of sources out there that call themselves news agencies and have no actual journalists. Sometimes it can be difficult to discern the difference, especially when the article agrees with your thinking or supports what you already believe. My mom may have had the best solution, and that was to not read or watch ANY news. When everyone is screaming at you, it gets hard to hear anything. Ultimately, it’s best for me to try and think for myself, and double or triple check an article that seems suspect. And I’m suspicious of most articles. Get yer early bird specials on Kickstarter. By Zach Hively Writing a book is supposed to be a crowning achievement in a writer’s life. One must spend years, sometimes entire months, in deep contemplation, self-reflection, and total isolation in order to tease out the meaningful contributions to one’s life that brought one to the brink of a lifetime of royalty checks. Then, one must actually write the book. But in my experience, the challenge of writing a book is mere marshmallow fluff compared to the heavy lifting of crafting the perfect book announcement. The Book Announcement is where the skillful author introduces the Unifying Themes and Greater Purposes that Oprah will later discuss with him as part of her eventual presidential campaign tour. Within these few words, the author draws out the pending book’s key concepts by using an illustrative metaphor or some other spare literary device, so that future book groups can truncate their discussions and go straight to drinking wine. The trick for the author, of course, is to decide which illustrative metaphor he’s going to use, because he already put most of his good stories inside the book itself and, really, does the world need one more story about me evading encounters with bears?  Of course it does! But I don’t want to blow my bear-wad just yet. So instead, I’m writing the Book Announcement about a Life Decision that really fails to put those bear encounters in perspective. It begins, as many stories do, with the words “If my dad can ride his bike over those mountains, then it can’t be that hard.” I had just moved to Durango, Colorado, to live off my leftover student loans. You would not recognize me then. You also would not recognize me now, unless we have met before. But I was a different person before saddling up for the Iron Horse Bicycle Classic eleven years ago. I had long been a dedicated indoorsman. As activities go, a weekly Uno night was more my cup of tea. Hell, cups of tea were my cup of tea. The annual Iron Horse ride covers the fifty-mile stretch of highway between the mining and railroad towns of Durango and Silverton, while scaling a pair of ten-thousand-foot mountain passes and informally racing a steam locomotive. I had mounted a bicycle exactly twice since I was eight years old, and put the bike in actual motion only one of those times. But my dear father had participated in the Iron Horse ride for years, despite being, biologically speaking, old. And if Pops could do it, then so could I. I called him up and shared my resolution. He said, “You’re still young, dude. I think if you really put your mind to it, you can manage it. Definitely. Absolutely. No, really.” He tried to warn me about the little things, though. Things like sitting in the saddle for hours (puh-leeze! I was a veteran sitter) and leaving the house—on my bike!—for actual training rides. And, though it pains me now to admit it, I proved that you can forget how to ride a bicycle. But I had an entry fee and paternal pride on the line. I had to accomplish this feat to disprove all the people who say millennials are lazy, worthless bums destroying America, even though I’m not sure what a millennial is, exactly, or if I am one. Besides, the experience of training for the ride might provide fodder for a future Book Announcement. So by gum, I rode my bike. I rode it even though I was not a genetically-endowed cyclist with sponsored clothing. I rode it even though my blood was not made of energy gel. I rode it even though it meant consuming protein bars with experimental seasonal flavors like “gingerbread” and “adventure.”  Coal Bank Pass, elevation: 10,640’ I still don’t know why so much riding was a key element of an efficient training regimen, exactly, other than it showed Pops that I was serious about this. He couldn’t understand why I had been an English major, but riding a bike, he got. And as we all know, future-President Oprah’s readers are suckers for a good father-son bonding story. As I kept riding, I earned a fresh perspective on my new home from the seat of my thickening bum calluses. Bicycling isn’t really about the chain grease or the space-age food. It’s about communing with our wider environment. It’s about making sure I beat Pops across the finish line. And it’s about finalizing my growth as a human being by the time I was twenty-seven years old. On the day of the Iron Horse, when I careened down the last mountain into Silverton, I emerged from the cocoon of early life and young adulthood into this blazing mega- butterfly you read today. No more youthful insecurities. No more “living and learning” or “emotional development.” If I could conquer mountains, then I was basically an expert on life.  Me (left) and Pops (who, for the record, finished after me) I wrote my first installment for what became my Fool’s Gold column in order to commemorate my triumph. I soon branched out from bicycling to tackle the defining topics of our day, topics that required a specialized brand of maturity, insight, and a really poor sense of smell: gender and masculinity in the modern era, family holidays, other people’s dogs, finding friendship as a hermit who dislikes people, and so on and so forth. Then someone had the bright idea to rework those adventures into a book. That someone was me. You can call me Zach Hively, because that is my name. And I’d like to introduce you to my forthcoming book, now up for grabs on Kickstarter: Call Me Zach Hively Because That Is My Name. For all these years, both of you, my darling readers, have had to wait weeks for my next column. Now there is no more waiting. In one extended bathroom visit, you can join me as I open my home to friends, apply to be a festival queen, and travel to St. Louis so you don’t have to. Each of these adventures improved me—enhanced me, even—like a radioactive spider bite. But even conquering mountains on a bicycle that weighs less than a hedonist’s guilt—even delivering a column (on deadline, mind you) for several years—did not quite prepare me for writing this Book Announcement.
No, that took actually sitting down (thanks, bicycle training!) and writing it. I’m happy that I could reward your time and, ideally, the full price you are about to pay with a guiding light by which to understand this book’s Unifying Themes and Greater Purposes. If you figure out what that light is, please let me know, so I can include it in future revised editions. Here are the highlights of the Kickstart campaign that goes live today:
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