Art Will Save Us

A while back I was listening to National Public Radio when a piece came on about Camden, New Jersey. Apparently, Camden was once a thriving, bustling, vibrant community. It has, however, fallen on hard times, is blighted and, in many quarters, mostly abandoned. In an effort to revitalize the community, the local parish has embarked on a redevelopment program which focuses on bringing art, performing, visual, and other types, back into the downtown. When asked about this project, the priest who spearheads the program said, “Art will save us!”

That phrase stuck in my mind and I kept repeating it to myself, along with snatches from Paul Simon’s Graceland, as I peddled my bicycle south from White Mesa at about 7:15 a.m. The sun was not long up from its nightly trip around the world and was beginning to create what I like to refer to as God Art. For me, this entire area is one enormous canvas, and I am always excited to see the ever-changing, constantly evolving picture.

As I looked east, I noticed the sun rhythmically poking its rays through the puffy clouds that had accumulated over the plateau the night before, illuminating scattered sections of landscape in pulses of brilliance. Here there were shadows, there colorful patches that burned brightly. The diffused sunlight seemed to skitter over the canyons and mesas like an insect on 100-degree pavement.

To the west awakened Comb Ridge, the sandstone monocline Navajo people believe forms an arm of the female Pollen Mountain. Her head is Navajo Mountain, Black Mesa her body, and her breasts are Tuba Butte and Agathla Peak. As the light moved across the land, Comb Ridge seemed alive, dynamic. God’s palette was nothing short of stunning, and at that moment Michelangelo and the Sistine Chapel had nothing on the exterior beauty of southeastern Utah.

Like the sun across the land, I could feel a glow beginning to infuse me. Deep in my being, the color shifting back and forth over the land was growing inside my body, making me smile outwardly and for some unknown reason motivating me to shout out loud. What I would say I did not know, but hallelujah or a deep growl seemed likely.

Some believe our country has become much like Camden; dark and dreary, with an uncertain future. The political climate has left many unsure, and countless plans have been abandoned. Admittedly, there is a great deal to concern us. Day after day reports arrive notifying us of the growing storm. We hear terms like “alternative facts” and “fake news” that make us wonder what is next on the horizon.

Every morning, however, I come into the trading post, feel the power of art and believe it will indeed redeem us. For years I have noted its effect on visitors to Twin Rocks Trading Post. Some are confused, some intrigued, but all are at least mildly enriched by the experience. Never have I had anyone walk away less happy than they were before seeing the rugs, baskets, jewelry, folk art, and paintings created by local artists.

Like the parish priest of Camden, Barry and I have been working on our own project to revitalize and rejuvenate the local artists. We believe art, whether it be the God Art found in the vast cathedral just outside our Kokopelli doors or the artistic creations of local Native Americans, will indeed revitalize us. Hallelujah brother, our faith is strong.

With Warm Regards,
Steve, Barry, and the Team.