Case Eagle in bronze by Thor

I made this eagle for Darryl who loves his Case backhoe and was aware of the Eagle on the globe that was a logo/trademark item and so he had done a lot for me over the years and I decided to make him this piece.

Going Up Sacred Raven's Mound at Night

Going Up Sacred Raven’s Mound at Night

The walk up  the “sacred raven’s mound” saddle was familiar, except this time it was dark and there was heavy smoke in the air, flakes of ash wafting in the flashlight beam and I had a shovel in one grip and a communicating device in the other.  The fire must be nearby and I want to help.   There was noise up on the west ridge and I could see their eyes glinting and hear their hooves against the stones and the earth; the sound small hooves make; there was a group of deer above me.  It was fear inspiring; dreamlike.

I  spent some time up here  years ago meandering with my 8 year old daughter on Sundays and we would “mine” precious green stones from the high quality red clay bank.  It was a special thing to do as we assuaged our hearts.  I had, back then, been poaching dead firewood along the trail, and lugging it to where the truck waited.  This was before the drought of 2000, the beetle kill, an amazingly well thinned forest and the gain of hundreds of dead piñons , replacing huge cottonwoods  that I quartered and burned over the previous 20 years .  It was a gnarly old trunk with a pointed branch that, I found out, was like a tusk or an antler and I tripped and fell on it, ripping my jeans and it poked hard at my inner thigh, hurting  a long time afterwards.  I remember my first experience hunting in those days and I got me a big bull elk with a massive rack and we cut it apart in the dark and were carrying the enormously heavy head and antlers to the truck (it took the three of us) and one of us got sort of gored by the horns and he groaned in pain, like me and the piñon.  I learned that the way these elements are made; the tree and the antlers; made to easily catch something, grab what it needed somehow like a devil’s claw does .  I use the “rack” to dry clothes on in the greenhouse and I toss them casually in its direction and they get hung ( I wondered if this drying “rack” was ‘insulting’  and then I realized it was a great tool; wrested of course, from the natural world as we sought to eat).

The saddle and hill, which looks like a huge head rising out of the earth;  has long ‘arms’  on both sides.  I named it ‘sacred raven’s mound’ as I finally saw the ‘arms’ as wings and the ‘head’ as the skull of a raven.  It’s a very special look-out , invoked, I thought, by the suggestive powers of a raven (the only animal that actually fashions/creates tools, it seems; like bending a wire to create a hook; not just poking sticks like an ape might).  I peered down upon what I knew to be a huge basin, the glint of railroad tracks disappearing around a low hill.  I looked for the glow of a wildfire and saw nothing.  The ash was from distant Arizona, so I leaned on the shovel, caught my breath and walked back down, past the crag on the left that was a sentinel overlooking the gorge and the snaking streambed five hundred feet below somewhere.  I knew there was more to this boulder, as I had discovered its ‘star crossed lover’, frozen for all time as another granite being; one with a natural arched opening at its base (something I had never seen in granite before)  she being across the gorge and up a steep gulch.  I had climbed ‘er once as I sought solitude from being a step-parent and got up there in the early morning,  then discovered that I was frozen in fear as I tried to descend; easier to climb than come down from, I learned.   I feel there is a great myth to tell about these giant stones and have thought about it many times.  But there was something missing and then I saw, a few weeks ago; a solitary stone propped naturally, like its “parents”; like the perfect child, almost a standing baby, but not in sight of the mother, but on the slope overlooking the waterfalls and the pools way down below….just standing there innocently lost and lost for so long that light green lichen, which always looks youthful somehow, was all over it.  These characters were also silent observers as the ash from two hundred miles away wafted by their ‘nostrils’ too, all of them, except for me, really……indifferent and stoic.  They, in fact, ‘saw’ everything; warm days and bitter nights; knee deep in snow and crowned with the stars.  Not curious, themselves, but just part of the mystery involving… what to do.  I thought…….. “I am obsessed with nature, with the flower, with the root. It is all linked to my situation as a… (person)… exiled from…( my)… primordial.” *

The leaves shimmer against the blue-grey sky, in the breeze, being near the end of the twig, which is near the end of the branch; the leaf is branched with veins which mirror the branching and the swaying tree is rooted by underground branches and the system is magnificent in its ability to communicate with both the earth and the sky; creating itself and sustaining itself through a communication and chemistry with air, water, light and nutrients.  It is responding and working with and in the sky; with the wind, the warmth, the dryness.  It is antennae sending and receiving messages from anything that will listen:  ‘look at me and see more and more and more’, like a fractal in the forest, alchemists, a Druid prayer sent out into the multiverse, saying; “…there is a lot going on here, so take a good look and think about what I am doing”; something like that…….so……just want to say……..“may the forest; be with you”.....

* - Aimé Césaire

Mesa Walk in Beauty (sung to a Spanish colonial dance tune)

WHEN WE WALK ALONG THE MESA TRAIL  ( inspired by the song  'La Camilla', a northern New Mexican tune and dance which has three parts; a couple step close, step close, step close to the middle from the outside circle, then a funny little shuffle back to the start, repeat, then polka around for two stanzas.  Words and adaptations and variations  by Thor Sigstedt. The song is is D, with the chords going DAGD,GDAD   then DAD and the low E string on the guitar is tuned down to a D note, so the guitar can sing that low D that I cannot.  TS. © November 1, 2013)

When we walk along the mesa trail, we see the little things that are a lying there so still
When we dance along the mesa rim,  under the sun,  darting over here and there

Oh the beautiful, the beautiful ,  the beautiful  little leaf

And  the beautiful, yes the beautiful, see the blue blue sky above
(then repeat instrumentally or hum)

When we hunt upon the mesa top, then we whisper quietly, and then stop
When we wander upon the crumpled crown, always dancing round and round and round and round

 Oh the beautiful,  the beautiful, the fluttering little dove
Oh the wonderful,  the wonderful, yes the blue blue sky above
(repeat instru)   (then instrumental of whole series)

When we stop to gaze upon the town, then we feel like shouting, "we are here looking down"
When we stop to rest under the pinon tree, then we feel like sleeping, yes, right here in shade

Oh the beautiful,  the beautiful, the beautiful walking trail
Oh the wonder, the fabulous, oe'r the beautiful trail we go
(repeat instru)

When we wander away from the trail, softly walking carefully around the little tree
When we walk upon the soft soft earth, felling wonder at what this nature's worth

Oh the beautiful, the beautiful, the beautiful land I see
Oh the marvelous, the wonderful, the timeless things I feel
(repeat  instru)
Oh the beautiful, the beautiful, the ..................(repeat 4 times or so with, perhaps a full instrumental and then fade out)

Mansi McClure Kern: Life Celebration and Memorial Announcement

 

Please go to "Mansi Kern" link in right hand column and click that link for more information.  Feel free to make a comment on this blog at the bottom.  The program is being developed right now, so feel free to come back and check it out.  

The Madrid Folk Music Festival occurs on the same day as Mansi's Life Celebration, and also Todd Lovato (Mansi's grandson), with Todd and the Fox is playing there at 2:45, so there is time to get over there.  Todd and Eric have also kindly chosen to donate a number of free tickets to the festival in Madrid to people coming to Mansi's Life Celebration, so it is first come, first serve for a number of them.   It seems very appropriate to honor folk music this way and dance and enjoy as this is a great way to celebrate Mansi's life work as a folk artist and performer.  Many Santa Feans, over the years have performed with her and so that is a wonderful sign of her activity in this field.  Mansi would dance or play or listen anywhere at the drop of a hat and so that is what we are hoping to do on the day of her memorial. It is sort of on the way to Madrid; go to Adventure Trails ranch and then take 285 to Galisteo and take the newly paved road, hwy 42 east to the Turquoise Trail and then left through Cerrillos to Madrid.  Parking may be tight as the balloon festival and the music festival are in full swing.  More about that later......

 

 

 

 

Mansi McClure Kern, 89, of Tesuque, died Monday, August 5th, peacefully in her own home.

Mansi, the oldest of five children, was born to the late Helena Modjeska Chase Johnson Drea and Harry McClure Johnson, April 16th, 1924, in Winetka, Illinois.  Mansi graduated from Putney (High)  School, Putney Vermont,  in 1942 and then attended Benningon College for three years, leaving due to illness then finished up her degree as a teacher from Colorado College in 1970. She married Val Sigstedt , then Ken Kern; mostly, though, raising her four children as a single parent. She moved to Santa Fe in 1951 for a few years then returned permanently in 1963. 

Mansi had a life-long career as a folk dance teacher with both children and adults, teaching at Loretto Academy, four of the northern Indian pueblos, also privately and she  performed as a professional musician/accordionist all over the country, including Aspen, Colorado, Idyllwild, California and Santa Fe New Mexico and was a violinist for the Santa Fe Symphony in the early days.  Mansi collected, interviewed and archived many of the Spanish Colonial New Mexican  Folk Music and Dances and musicians; playing with the viejitos in the remote villages to learn the music ; this in the mid sixties, performed with her music group, The Festival Folk Ensemble (which also included many of her grown children and grandchildren and family members)  for over 20 years at the Santa Fe Fiesta, Taos Fiesta, Pagosa Springs Fiesta, Las Vegas Fiesta,  Baille Cascarones, Las Golondrinas, El Nido and many other venues and coordinated an exhibition dance group often  at the same time, played  at nursing homes and hospitals and was a familiar face and participant with Baille Cascarones each year, displaying her great dance ability and knowledge and passion for  the local traditional dances.  She will be dearly missed at those dances!

She built the “Pavillion Melodia”, a large circular dance and performance and teaching center  on Avenida Melodia, Tesuque and held many dances and musical events there. She was also an avid proponent of organic foods since high school, being way ahead of her time in that aspect and she was a guiding light for that life style, which, for many, now, is standard practice.  She also was an ardent pacifist, anti-nuclear advocate and nature lover, "back-to-the-lander", defender of racial and cultural equality.  Recently she could be seen as an iconic figure gracefully enjoying the Summer Music on the Plaza concerts ; was dancing on the plaza only a few weeks ago. She was, truly; a Santa Fe treasure.

Mansi  is survived by four children: Shawn Sigstedt of Steamboat Springs, Colorado; Thor Sigstedt of Spirit Valley below Canoncito; Anhara Lovato of Tesuque and Tanya Kern of Tesuque and Phoenix, Arizona. She also is survived by eight grandchildren (Todd, Juniper and Nico Lovato; Tara Pack, Dylan and Sophia (Sigstedt); Lief and Olin Sigstedt  and two great-grandsons ( Abe and Torsten Pack).  She is also survived by her two sisters, Elizabeth Stickney and Priscilla Paetsch and her nephew, Bristol Stickney.

There will be a memorial on October 12, 2013.  Musicians and friends are invited to bring their instruments and others can grab a maraca and join in the festivities.  Please bring memories and photos and a simple food offering  to the event.  Any flowers and decorations can be brought at that time.  Please call 505-466-4403 for more information or go to http://thor-sigstedt.blogspot.com for more details.

Susurrus Arroyo

“ An arroyo (/əˈrɔɪoʊ/; Spanish: [aˈroʝo], "brook"), also called a wash, is a dry creek or stream bed—gulch that temporarily or seasonally fills and flows after sufficient rain.[1] Wadi is a similar term in Africa. In Spain, a rambla has a similar meaning to arroyo. In Hispanic America any small river might be called arroyo, even if it flows continually all year and is never dry.”  pohu'u 'creek with water in it' <po 'water', /tu'it 'large groove' 'arroyo').

What a great word for something; arroyo

Just real close to susurrus, oddly

(Powerful and flows right off your tongue);

But gulch works too.  Like; “ the granite crag with the arch in the gulch and the other crag across

The canyon survey the arroyo below as the susurrus waters subside”.

Even if you don’t quite know what arroyo means exactly

But you know one when you see one

(…or hear one)

Or are in one or near one

Its all about water, the soil, the milieu, as it were

….and the  forest

….and how things are taken care of;

How things are taken care of;

How we take care of them and …

How they take care of us,

Bringing fresh life to any area

And, like many things; not entirely predictable

But it’s always smart to look upstream

As we walk the dry arroyo under the hot sun

And around the bend of the mesa up there;

Looking for dark dark clouds

(not a bad thing to look for in a drought down by the river bed)

And lightning and thunder

And then, perhaps, the rocks will thunder, too, as they crash into each other

Tumbling down the arroyo and then happily resting, cleansed, washed and

Surrounded by clean, crisp, squeaky sand and fine reddish silt and pine cones

After the flood; The Susurrus Arroyo!;

Feeding crystal clear pools to wonder at,

Like an 8 year old does by the sea, amongst the rocks; into tidal pools’ life forms…

Then perhaps the stroll leads to a cowboy bath;

Stripped naked beneath the rustic skyscraper gorge

Splash, kick and splash;

So beautiful it hurts your feelings.  

“Arroyos can be natural fluvial landforms or constructed flood control channels. The term usually applies to a sloped or mountainous terrain in xeric and desert climates. In addition: in many rural communities arroyos are also the principal transportation routes; and in many urban communities arroyos are also parks and recreational locations, often with linear multi-use bicycle, pedestrian, and equestrian trails. Flash flooding can cause the deep arroyos or deposition of sediment on flooded lands. This can lower the groundwater level of the surrounding area, making it unsuitable for agriculture. However a shallow water table lowered in desert arroyo valleys can reduce saline seeping and alkali deposits in the topsoil, making it suitable for irrigated farming”. ….They are also great for volleyball games and horseshoe throwing and gathering  sand, taking children down to them (or ducks)……..that’s what I’m  talkin’ about!!

Feeling Our Way Around Forgeries

 Most families have a horsethief or two in their histories, but we just have forgery in our closet.  My dad first told us that my grandfather, Thorsten (which means “Thor’s Stone”, which suggests that the ‘real’ “Thor’s Hammer” was not what we think of as one, but just an old stone; a reverse  knock-off, honestly)  over from Sweden after carving  a copy of the “royal barge” for the king;

 

 was  running from a business destroyed by alcoholism ; not his but his brother’s; his business partner.  The business: making duplicates of ‘ priceless’ antiques; read: the 6th Louis Catorce dining chair to match and fill out the other five already in existence and crying out for the full set to achieve the primo price. Oddly, my first unwitting, of course, foray into the ‘family business’ (which I only discovered years after I was already an established furniture maker) ,was making “Taos Beds”; well, to be honest, everyone made them in those halcyon days of the mid seventies, as they were going like hotcakes.  Only one problem; it was Taos Furniture or some such (different stories out there) that “invented” them, although my grandmother  (on the other side) said they were just “Morris Chairs”.  I often get people who want something they have already seen somewhere and  I try to make a little change to keep honest, but, frankly, it is sometimes hard not to copy a little.  I have also been copied and  mostly consider it a sort of compliment; on a good day.  The guy I learned from came up with all these designs; cool ones with lots of detail and he was so proud.  Finally I discovered that he had a (tum tum dum tum); book (that he took his ‘original’ designs from).  These kinds of stories go on and on.  Just the other day,  I was asked to take a picture of a gate so that I could make some woodwork based on it.  I often “google”  (a legitimate real word now) anything that I want to represent and take the best twenty or so pictures from  “images” and then  paste them  into Microsoft Word and use them to help create the final piece.  Hey; it works!

 So, there is something, though, that needs to be paid attention to and I think it rallies around the word “authenticity;, so  what does it look like?  If you take a bucket of water from a trout stream, or  you dam it up to make a lake, you do not have a trout stream.; a trout stream is only a trout stream when it is flowing between its own two banks, at its own pace, in its own sweet way (language borrowed from The River Why).  Or like the lyrics: “You know all the words and you sung all the notes, but you never quite learned the song she sang, you never quite learned  the song…”  So, there are subtleties here, like talking about love, quality and they involve the dynamics of us peoples’ eyes; you see, we, most of us, have the ability to notice the most minute details like whether the edges of a piece of furniture is planed, sanded, routered, chiseled or left alone.  People like Bernard Ewell, fine art appraiser, neighbor and  one of the more interesting people in the world, who has a refined eye for detail and can often just feel that there is something wrong with a forged, say, Dali piece and then takes it from there.  There is a lot at stake here and  that  is why he wrote a soon-to- be- released book, Artful Dodgers: Fraud and Foolishness in the Art Market.  The issue is ubiquitous and Bernard says that Thomas Hoving of the Metropolitan  Museum of Art  said that  “40 percent of all pieces offered  to him for display are forgeries”!!  So; Buyer Beware; but that is not enough; for instance, right here in our neck of the woods are three businesses (Bobcat Bite, The Legal Tender, Santa Fe Southern)  that  self-define authenticity and probably cannot be replaced; once they are gone, with all of their characteristics; good natured attitude, sense of honor, sense of place, sense of esthetics, mysterious ingredients that make the heart soar; it takes some magic to make anything successful and it is hard, if not impossible, to duplicate.  This not ‘paint by the numbers’, folks, and do not be fooled by cheap imitations…..or expensive ones!  As Bernard’s ‘motto’ goes:  If a (person) has integrity nothing else matters; if a (person) does not have integrity nothing else matters.