In a quiet corner of the Georgia O’Keeffe Museum in Santa Fe, a series of paintings depicting Cerro Pedernal, a prominent mesa in northern New Mexico, invites contemplation. Artist Jason Garcia, of Santa Clara Pueblo (Kha’p’o Owingeh), has rendered this sacred landmark, known as "Flint Hill" in Spanish and Ts’í P’ín in Tewa, repeatedly from a singular vantage point, exploring its essence through minimalist interpretations and masterful plays of light and shadow, even capturing its mystique under the cloak of night. Garcia’s ambitious project, "Our Private Mountain," aims to eventually feature over thirty of his depictions of Ts’í P’ín, with the stated goal of having more of his works displayed in the O’Keeffe Museum than Georgia O’Keeffe herself had during her lifetime; currently, nineteen of his pieces are on view.

This deeply personal endeavor is part of a larger exhibition titled "Tewa Nangeh/Tewa Country," which thoughtfully juxtaposes the works of twelve Tewa Indigenous artists, scholars, and culture bearers with those of Georgia O’Keeffe. O’Keeffe’s iconic and pervasive depictions of the region have profoundly shaped the American imagination, often serving as the primary visual reference for northern New Mexico. Throughout her prolific career, O’Keeffe created scores of Southwestern scenes, including flora, fauna, and architecture, but it is her sweeping landscapes that have achieved the most enduring fame. These landscapes, much like the genre itself at the time, were notably devoid of human presence, fostering an impression of an empty and isolated territory. This simplified vision has led to the region being widely referred to as "O’Keeffe Country." However, as Garcia points out, this perspective overlooks the continuous presence of Tewa people, who maintain ancestral place names for virtually all of Tewa Country and continue to reside within their four sacred mountains.

Despite this rich human history, O’Keeffe’s artistic legacy continues to dominate the popular perception of New Mexico. In a 1977 interview with Newsweek, she referred to Ts’í P’ín as "my private mountain," asserting, "It belongs to me. God told me that if I painted it enough, I could have it." This possessive sentiment, amplified over time, has led to an entire region being defined by her work. The New Mexico Tourism Department even revived one of her quotes for a 2021 advertising campaign: "When I got to New Mexico, that was mine." This assertion of ownership prompted a strong response from the O’Keeffe Museum itself. In a statement, the museum clarified that it "did not support the use of Georgia O’Keeffe quotes describing the New Mexico landscape as ‘her country’ or claiming ‘that was mine.’" The museum further articulated, "While these quotes are from the artist, it is now clear that this is the language of possession, colonization, and erasure."

This institutional self-reflection had been underway for some time. In 2020, the museum hosted a panel discussion titled "This is Not O’Keeffe Country," which explored these themes. The panel included prominent figures such as Corrine Sanchez, executive director of Tewa Women United; Christina Castro, founder of Three Sisters Collective, an Indigenous and Pueblo-women led organization based in Santa Fe; and Jason Garcia. The current exhibition, "Tewa Nangeh/Tewa Country," stands as a vital effort to counterbalance the historical dominance of O’Keeffe’s narrative and the institutions that have capitalized on her image. It aims to fill in the perceptual gaps by offering more expansive reflections of Indigenous presence, reminding viewers that despite her significant fame, O’Keeffe was but one individual within the long and intricate history of Tewa Nangeh.

One compelling contribution to this redefinition of the landscape is "This Land Carries Us," an exquisite experimental documentary by Charine Pilar Gonzales. A 2024 Sundance Institute Native Lab Fellow and a community-based filmmaker from San Ildefonso Pueblo, Gonzales masterfully employs rich visual layering and stop-motion animation. The film opens with a scene of trees ablaze with autumnal orange leaves under a setting sun, onto which a collage of Polaroid photographs featuring elders, children, and ceramics is superimposed. Gonzales’s artist statement emphasizes 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 connection to place is further evoked in "Coming Home," a mural 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. The artwork offers a view northward through the badlands and mesas of Tewa Country, mirroring the landscape she witnesses on her drives home from Santa Fe. This immersive experience prompts contemplation on "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 expresses in her artist statement.

Beyond themes of place and cultural continuity, the exhibition also confronts the unique perils that have impacted New Mexico, particularly the legacies of climate change and nuclear weapons. Michael Namingha, of Ohkay Owingeh and Hopi heritage, addresses these issues in his work "Disaster #8." A massive cloud of smoke looms ominously above a mountain vista, a stark visual echoing both the 2022 Hermits Peak/Calf Canyon Fire—the largest in New Mexico’s history—and the haunting imagery of atomic mushroom clouds. Namingha’s piece deliberately engages in a dialogue with O’Keeffe’s 1945 painting, "Red with Yellow." Notably, 1945 was the year the world’s first atomic bomb was detonated in a New Mexico desert area erroneously deemed unpopulated by the military. While both artists utilize a fiery palette of acid oranges and reds, Namingha imbues these colors with contemporary significance, directly referencing the Air Quality Index chart, a daily indicator of environmental health.

Other artworks in the exhibition offer direct critiques of O’Keeffe’s perceived territoriality over the landscape. In Garcia’s "Tewa Tales of Suspense," a series of comic book-style clay tablets, each approximately the size of an iPad and crafted using natural pigments fired in his Kha’p’o Owingeh studio, O’Keeffe herself appears as a character. Depicted in her signature black wrap dress and hat, she stands against the backdrop of Ts’í P’ín. A sign behind her, initially reading "Welcome to O’Keeffe Country," has been visually altered, with "O’Keeffe" scratched out and replaced by "TEWA," a clear assertion of Indigenous sovereignty over the land.

The "Tewa Nangeh/Tewa Country" exhibition unfolds against a backdrop of broader cultural and political shifts concerning historical narratives. Six years prior, the O’Keeffe Museum initiated its critical evaluation of O’Keeffe’s role in Indigenous erasure. However, the current national climate has seen a significant rightward shift, impacting the realm of imagery and public discourse. Last summer, the U.S. Department of Homeland Security controversially shared John Gast’s "American Progress," a tableau symbolizing Manifest Destiny, alongside a quote that resonated with white nationalist sentiments: "A Heritage to be proud of, a Homeland worth Defending." Concurrently, the Trump administration has proposed significant cuts to federal funding for public art institutions that champion diversity, equity, and inclusion initiatives. Institutions like the Institute of American Indian Arts in Santa Fe, which serve Indigenous and minority students, are also facing potential funding reductions, according to the administration’s April budget proposal.

Bess Murphy, the O’Keeffe Museum’s Luce Curator of Art and Social Practice and co-curator of the exhibition alongside Garcia, emphasizes a commitment to a more ethical approach. "We can and should do better and work from a place of care instead of violence, fear or racism," she stated. The collaborative spirit of the exhibition is evident in its creation process: the twelve participating artists were involved in every stage, from selecting which O’Keeffe paintings would be included to writing their own exhibition texts. These texts were subsequently copyedited by Dr. Beverly Singer, an esteemed Indigenous anthropologist from Santa Clara Pueblo. Garcia further noted that the creation of a map delineating the six Tewa pueblos, incorporating Tewa place names and ancestral villages, was also a joint effort.

This framework champions the crucial principle of self-representation, advocating for artist and community-led exhibitions that foster nuanced and instructive dialogues. Such initiatives offer vital counter-narratives to a region that has for too long been defined by external perspectives, ultimately enriching our understanding of New Mexico’s complex cultural tapestry.