The Leather Satchel

Yesterday afternoon I was straightening the trading post when Ray Lovato walked in with his leather satchel under his arm and a young man at his side. Ray is in his late fifties, and the boy looked to be about sixteen, so I mistakenly assumed Ray's companion was his grandson. No, he assured me, the boy was in fact his youngest son. Ray went on to say he fully intended to have more children after this one arrived, but had begun to "misfire." After a few off-color jokes about the local ladies, I was treated to a speech about growing old, and a much too detailed explanation why this was the last of the Lovato offspring.





















Santo Domingo Silversmith Ray Lovato and his son Andrew

For me, Ray and his satchel are a metaphor for Native American art. I am not sure how long I have known him, but it must be almost 30 years. When Ray began bringing his traditionally made turquoise and shell beads to us, I was just a teenager, more interested in finding a way out of work than looking at necklaces. As I matured, his work and his humor became more interesting to me. That may have been because I began to better understand his jokes and what it takes to make those beads.

Ray's satchel is a leather bag about twelve or fourteen inches long and eight to ten inches tall. Depending on how full it is, it can be six inches wide. The closure is tarnished brass, and the leather supple, tan and splotchy. From the wear it shows, I guess it must be approximately 25 years old, so Ray may have acquired it shortly after we became acquainted. The pouch's color is a wonderful contrast to the vivid blue and green beads extracted from its bowels.

Ray and I first met, and I believe I first noticed his pouch in the 1970s, when Indian art flowed like water. Everywhere you looked, there were loads of turquoise and silver jewelry, and almost every Native American in the Southwest had a workshop in his or her home. The stones were large, and deep blue or emerald green. The silver was heavy and elaborately worked. It seemed that every woman in the United States wanted, needed, had to have a squash blossom necklace and a concho belt.

Throughout most of the 1980s, I was out of the business, and lost track of Ray and many other artists I had grown up with. When I reemerged in late 1989, Ray was still doing his work, but it had become more refined. This seemed consistent with the rest of the Indian art world. People like Preston Monogye and Charles Loloma had moved Native American art in completely new directions, and overall the work was more sophisticated, as were the artists. I chuckle every time I hear a story about Charles attempting to seduce one of his customers or about him flying around in his Jaguar or a Learjet. That was when Southwest art seemed to come of age.

Many of these old masters are gone, or, like Ray, have slowed dramatically. The next generation seems much like Ray's son, who confirmed that he was not crazy about continuing his father's traditions. "It's too hard" the boy explained. If these kids are lucky, they will get good educations and probably leave the village. If they are not, they may end up working at the casino or the local convenience store. Either way, the traditional arts are unlikely to be part of their lives. Barry and I see this with the Navajo basket weavers, and wonder whether their basketry will survive beyond this generation.




















Ray Lovato and family at Twin Rocks

Although I have for the last decade joked with Ray about selling me his satchel, I think he would feel naked and lost without it. Generally, he comes into the trading post laughing and carrying plastic bags full of blue corn cookies or Santo Domingo bread. On rare and special occasions, he brings tamales and we have a feast.

Once the bread, cookie or tamale exchange has been made, it is time for Ray to extract beads from the leather bag. There have been so many masterpieces pulled from the satchel over the years that I have begun to think it must be magic. Ray had only two pieces in the leather sack this time, a natural Sleeping Beauty turquoise tab necklace and a three strand set of Castle Dome beads with jocla. In the past, the bag would have been overflowing with treasures. Today the wares were fine, but few.

As he always does after telling me the prices, he leaned over the counter and made me swear I wouldn't tell his other buyers what a good deal he offered. I always agree, knowing full well that he extracts the same pledge from everyone.

Because I have begun to wonder how long I will be able to buy his beads, I took both necklaces. As Ray and his son walked to the door, I couldn't help wonder how Native American art will evolve over the next few decades, what will be required to ensure the trading post continues into the next generation and what will happen when all those satchels stop producing.

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