Decades ago I took a road trip across the Southwest and ended up in Santa Fe, New Mexico.
I was only there a day, but I fell under the magic of the light and color, the history, the intermix of cultures, the landscape.
I was only there one day, but I want to return to it. I want to see again the purple of the wisteria against rose-colored adobe walls, white clouds against cerulean skies, red rock and green pines, the sparkle of silver and turquoise on the vendors’ displays, red and green chiles. I want to enter again the sacred spaces of its ancient churches. It all has to do with the light, both physical and spiritual.
It has been said by many artists and photographers, writers and creatives alike, that there is a light unique to New Mexico. Whether it is the altitude or the particulate matter in the air diffusing the sunlight that causes this specialness, or the fiery glow of angels and saints flitting through the skies from beyond the veil, I just can’t say.
My photos from this trip are put away and mostly unscanned, but I don’t need them. The light and colors are seared into my soul.