Rocky GerungIn the hushed galleries of the Georgia O’Keeffe Museum in Santa Fe, a striking juxtaposition unfolds, presenting a nuanced counter-narrative to the iconic imagery of the American Southwest. Amidst O’Keeffe’s renowned depictions of Cerro Pedernal, a prominent mesa in northern New Mexico, a series of paintings by Jason Garcia, of Santa Clara Pueblo (Kha’p’o Owingeh), offer a profound reinterpretation of this sacred landscape. Garcia, whose Tewa name is Okuu P’o’n and who co-curated the exhibition, has rendered Cerro Pedernal—known as "Flint Hill" in Spanish and Ts’y P’y’n in Tewa—repeatedly, each iteration capturing the mesa from a singular vantage point, yet exploring vast differences in light, shadow, and even time, with some pieces depicting the geological formation under the cloak of night.
This meticulous repetition is more than an artistic exercise; it is an act of profound reclamation. Garcia’s ambition is to see his own interpretations of Ts’y P’y’n outnumber O’Keeffe’s entire body of work featuring the mesa within the very institution dedicated to her legacy. Currently, nineteen of his pieces adorn the museum walls, a testament to his dedication. He envisions this collection as part of a larger project titled "Our Private Mountain," a monumental undertaking intended to encompass over thirty depictions of Ts’y P’y’n, solidifying a Tewa presence in a space often dominated by a singular, non-Indigenous perspective.
The exhibition, "Tewa Nangeh/Tewa Country," serves as a vital platform, showcasing the work of twelve Tewa artists, scholars, and culture bearers. These contemporary voices are placed in dialogue with O’Keeffe’s paintings, whose pervasive images of the region have become so deeply embedded in the American consciousness that they often function as the sole representation of northern New Mexico. O’Keeffe’s prolific output included scores of Southwest scenes, from desert flora and fauna to adobe buildings. However, it is her sweeping, often starkly empty landscapes that have achieved the most enduring fame. This artistic vision, largely devoid of human presence, has inadvertently fostered an impression of the region as a pristine, isolated wilderness, a perception often distilled into the ubiquitous phrase "O’Keeffe Country."
This framing, however, overlooks the enduring reality of Indigenous life on this land. "The reality, though, is that Tewa people are still living on this land," Garcia asserts. "We still have our ancestral place names for pretty much all of Tewa country." He further emphasizes the deep spiritual connection to the land, stating, "We’re still living within our four sacred mountains," a reference to the cardinal directions and the traditional Tewa cosmological understanding of their homeland.
Despite this living heritage, O’Keeffe’s powerful visual legacy continues to shape perceptions. In a 1977 interview with Newsweek, she referred to Ts’y P’y’n as "my private mountain. It belongs to me. God told me that if I painted it enough, I could have it." This possessive sentiment, amplified by her global fame, has led to an entire region being popularly understood through the lens of her artistic ownership. This was starkly evident in 2021 when the New Mexico Tourism Department revived one of O’Keeffe’s quotes for an advertising campaign, with a voice-over declaring, "When I got to New Mexico, that was mine," over images of riders traversing the sienna-hued bluffs.
Recognizing the problematic implications of such rhetoric, the Georgia O’Keeffe Museum itself has taken a significant step towards self-correction. In a public statement, the museum declared its non-endorsement of O’Keeffe’s quotes that describe the New Mexico landscape as "her country" or claiming "that was mine." The statement articulated a crucial understanding: "While these quotes are from the artist, it is now clear that this is the language of possession, colonization, and erasure." This institutional introspection had been developing for some time, culminating in a 2020 panel discussion titled "This is Not O’Keeffe Country," which the author moderated and featured prominent Indigenous voices such as Corrine Sanchez, executive director of Tewa Women United, and Christina Castro, founder of Three Sisters Collective, alongside Jason Garcia.
The "Tewa Nangeh/Tewa Country" exhibition represents a vital effort to counter the historical blind spots created by O’Keeffe’s commanding presence and the subsequent institutional framing of her work. By centering the voices and artistic expressions of Tewa people, the exhibition offers a more expansive and authentic reflection of Indigenous life and connection to the land. It serves as a powerful reminder that despite O’Keeffe’s immense fame, she was but one individual within the long and complex tapestry of Tewa history and presence in their ancestral homeland.
Adding another layer of richness to this dialogue is "This Land Carries Us," a visually captivating experimental documentary by Charine Pilar Gonzales, a filmmaker from San Ildefonso Pueblo and a 2024 Sundance Institute Native Lab Fellow. Gonzales’s film masterfully employs rich visual layering and stop-motion animation. One scene, for instance, opens with a stand of trees ablaze with the orange hues of autumn under a setting sun, upon which superimposed Polaroids of elders, children, and ceramics create a vibrant mosaic of Tewa life. Her artist statement powerfully articulates the film’s core message: "The visuals of this film reaffirm what has always been true: You cannot speak of Tewa land without also speaking of Tewa people."
This profound sense of place and belonging is also palpable in "Coming Home," a mural created by Eliza Naranjo-Morse of Kha’p’o Owingeh. Naranjo-Morse painted directly onto the gallery walls using clay she gathered from across the region, capturing the view northward through the badlands and mesas of Tewa Country that she sees on her drives home from Santa Fe. This personal connection to the landscape inspired her to contemplate "the understated but significant acts that maintain relationship to land, preserve the Tewa language and the values of respect and reciprocity with all life," as she explains in her artist statement.
The exhibition also bravely confronts the enduring perils that have uniquely impacted New Mexico, particularly the devastating consequences of climate change and the legacy of nuclear weapons development. Michael Namingha, an artist of Ohkay Owingeh and Hopi heritage, addresses these issues in his work "Disaster #8." The painting depicts a massive cloud of smoke ominously hanging over a mountain landscape. While the smoke directly references the 2022 Hermits Peak/Calf Canyon Fire, the largest wildfire in New Mexico’s history, its form and intensity also evoke the chilling imagery of mushroom clouds from atomic tests. Namingha cleverly places his work in dialogue with O’Keeffe’s 1945 painting "Red with Yellow," created in the same year scientists detonated the first atomic bomb in a New Mexico desert area erroneously deemed unpopulated. Both artists employ a fiery palette of acid oranges and reds, but Namingha imbues these colors with contemporary meaning, directly referencing the Air Quality Index chart, a stark reminder of present-day environmental concerns.
Other works in the exhibition offer direct critiques of O’Keeffe’s perceived appropriation of the landscape. Jason Garcia’s "Tewa Tales of Suspense" series features comic book-style clay tablets, each roughly the size of an iPad, crafted from locally gathered natural pigments and fired using traditional Pueblo pottery techniques. In one striking piece, O’Keeffe herself appears, depicted against Ts’y P’y’n, clad in her signature black wrap dress and hat. A sign behind her reads "Welcome to O’Keeffe Country," but the word "O’Keeffe" has been deliberately scratched out and replaced with "TEWA," a powerful visual assertion of Tewa sovereignty over their ancestral lands.
This exhibition arrives at a crucial moment, as narratives surrounding the past and present are increasingly contested. The Georgia O’Keeffe Museum began its critical evaluation of O’Keeffe’s role in Indigenous erasure six years ago. Now, however, the national discourse has shifted, with a pronounced rightward turn influencing how cultural narratives are presented and perceived. Last summer, the U.S. Department of Homeland Security controversially shared John Gast’s Manifest Destiny tableau, "American Progress," alongside a quote echoing white nationalist sentiments: "A Heritage to be proud of, a Homeland worth Defending." Furthermore, recent political administrations have proposed significant cuts to federal funding for public art institutions that champion diversity, equity, and inclusion initiatives. Indigenous and minority-serving higher education programs, including the Institute of American Indian Arts in Santa Fe, are also facing the risk of reduced funding, according to proposed federal budgets.
Amidst these challenges, the "Tewa Nangeh/Tewa Country" exhibition stands as a beacon of care and respectful engagement. "We can and should do better and work from a place of care instead of violence, fear or racism," states Bess Murphy, the O’Keeffe Museum’s Luce Curator of Art and Social Practice and co-curator of the exhibition alongside Garcia. Murphy emphasizes the collaborative spirit of the project, noting that the twelve participating artists were involved in every stage of curation, from selecting O’Keeffe’s works to be included to writing their own exhibition texts, which were then meticulously copyedited by Dr. Beverly Singer, an Indigenous anthropologist from Santa Clara Pueblo. Garcia further highlights the collaborative development of a map that delineates the six Tewa pueblos, incorporating Tewa place names and ancestral villages, underscoring the exhibition’s commitment to authentic representation and shared knowledge.
Ultimately, "Tewa Nangeh/Tewa Country" champions the vital importance of self-representation. Through artist and community-led exhibitions, it fosters nuanced and instructive dialogues about a region that has too long been defined by external perspectives. It reclaims the narrative, asserting that the land is not merely a backdrop for artistic interpretation but a living entity deeply intertwined with the enduring presence and cultural vitality of the Tewa people.
