A Note from Taos

The Helene Wurlitzer Foundation

1.

It is hard to believe but next Tuesday will mark one month since I arrived here in Taos to begin a two-and-half month-long residency at the Helene Wurlitzer Foundation, which is supposedly the oldest artists residency in the United States.

It is also the longest.

I am here for their summer session, which is a bit shorter than the other two sessions, which each last three months. To apply, I sent a short story, plus a statement about how I would use the time. And finally I had to furnish two letters of recommendation. After arriving, I discovered that the process really was completely blind. The man in charge told me that he doesn’t even look at the resumes or statements, or even contact the letter writers until an artist has made the long list. “And the long list is basically the short list,” he said.

I was happy to know selection was based almost entirely on the sample work. As it happens, though, there are only two artists here without MFAs: me and one of the composers. Also, as it happens, the University of Iowa is very well represented— so if it’s true that selection is blind, then Iowa Workshop and their Fine Arts Program for the win. We also have a Fulbright scholar here and a graduate of the Clarion Workshop—my lifelong ambition is to attend Clarion…. trying to work up my nerve to apply to that next. The writer who went there last year told me it changed her life—and not just in terms of writing, she said.

If you notice, I have used the word “artist” twice…. Oh, that is music to my ears. To be called an artist… for me, that is a first! But, the residency really is composed of artists. Four visual (painters), three composers (including the Spanish guitarist next door!), two poets, and two creative nonfiction writers.. plus me! I am the only fiction writer, though one of the poets and one of the composers are working on novels. We have no demands placed on us and can do what we want here. But the Casitas for composers come with pianos and the ones for painters come with large studios attached to the living space.

It really is the perfect place to work.

There are only three older artists…. and I have noticed that all three of us are staying pretty much on our own in our casitas. In contrast, the younger artists are going out most evenings and have bonded really fast and are all pretty wonderful! I really like them a lot. But for whatever reason, I have felt myself shutting down and really turning inward—which is strange since I have so much “alone time” back in Pasadena.

Do I really need more time alone to sit at my computer? I guess I did since for the past month, I have felt myself preferring being completely alone. Part of it is that my manuscript is something hard for me. It is a draft of a novel I dashed out in 2011 and left sitting in a drawer for a decade, before trotting it out to workshop it at Sewanee and Bread Loaf last year. I received a lot of feedback (critiques) at both workshops, and I am now finding it exhausting to try and work out all the problems—But the other part is I am not feeling so great, and so it is nice to just have some solitude to think about things right now. I have never been on any kind of retreat before and have not been completely alone in this way in decades. I found myself really strangely turning inward, kind of wincing at the thought of leaving the casita.

I heard Pico Iyer is coming out with a book about his yearly retreat at a Catholic Monastery in Big Sur. I know many people who have benefitted from these kinds of spiritual retreats, or yoga retreats… but this is a first for me and I am finding it really rejuvenating!

But, there is no Wifi—which is making it easier not to get distracted, I guess. Though that is also frustrating and several artists have installed it in their casitas.

2.

I am not the first person to feel that Taos has a little something of a Shangri-La feeling about it. It reminds me so much of the Western Himalaya…. especially of the valleys along the Indus River in Ladakh. Taos, at around 6,000 feet, is only about half the altitude of Leh but the valley is encircled by snow-capped peaks and is a dusty valley filled with cottonwood trees and willows. The landscape is clay colored, like in Leh, with buildings a dark muddy brown blending into the dusty soil.

Most of the year it is a one-color world, but then in June the aspens, willows and cotton trees turn a willowy green. The caretaker Mitch said that this is the best time of year to come on a residency— when the color returns to the landscape. My casita is located in a field of wildflowers and wild alfafa grass.

Mitch was the one who told me that in former times the Wurlies (which is hiw residents are referred to around here) made the news by stripping naked and dancing around bonfires at night. “Right over there,” he pointed. We both remarked how much times had changed and we couldn’t imagine anything like that happening nowadays!

Mitch also told me that no one really knows where the name Taos comes from… but some people think it means “dust.”

Yep!!

Also, somehow similar to the Tibetan regions of the Himalaya, religion is more alive here in Northern New Mexico than in other places I have lived. Georgia O’Keefe remarked that Catholicism is like a veil spread across the landscape, and I think that is true with the uncountable number of old adobe churches and gigantic crosses that dot the hills.

One of the resident writers was born not far from here and his writing is much taken up by the Penitente culture— the Catholic confraternities of laymen emerged in a time of transition when Spain withdrew its priests. The community stepped in with some unique traditions being born, where men gather to pray and make sure the world doesn’t get too out of balance through self-flagellations, processions, and mock crucifixions. Kirsten Valdez Quade has a fantastic story called Five Wounds about one believer whose efforts involved real nails. She turned this story into a novel.

There are also plenty of aging hippies and New Age practitioners which is more reminiscent of Berkeley, back in the day, than anything.

3.

Taos has been an artist colony for over a hundred years. And it’s easy to see what drew so many artists here—like Georgia O’Keefe, DH Lawrence and Agnes Martin, just to name a few. They came from New York, Paris, and Moscow. It was a place apart, where art took center stage.

Along with artists came the philanthropists. Mabel Luhan Dodge was probably one of the most famous. She was the person who invited DH Lawrence to visit and then gave him a ranch. She was here ahead of Helene Wurlitzer but I think they knew each other. Born in 1874, Helene married into the German musical instrument-maker family in 1885—but she came from money in her own right, from mining. She had began philanthropy back in Ohio, where she and her husband had started a family, but those activities really took off when she moved to Taos.

Her first grant was to Agnes Martin, one of my favorite painters. Ansel Adams was also an early recipient.

There is something incredible about being in a place where art is prioritized and something people really care about. To have this time away —or maybe I should call it a time apart— has been such an incredible privilege. I love it here—and highly recommend it to all artists!

(I tried to post pictures of my casita but no luck… more soon!!)

Notes:

Willa Cather: A Story of Three Churches