Within the hushed galleries of the Georgia O’Keeffe Museum in Santa Fe, a striking series of paintings by Jason Garcia, an artist from Santa Clara Pueblo (Kha’p’o Owingeh), offers a profound reinterpretation of Cerro Pedernal, a prominent mesa in northern New Mexico. Known as "Flint Hill" in Spanish and Ts’í P’ín in Tewa, Garcia has rendered this iconic landscape repeatedly from a singular vantage point, exploring its multifaceted essence through minimalist compositions and dramatic plays of light and shadow, with at least two powerful nocturnal interpretations. This deliberate repetition serves as an act of reclamation, a visual assertion of Indigenous presence and connection to a land often perceived through a singular, dominant narrative. Garcia, whose Tewa name is Okuu P’ín and who co-curated the exhibition, harbors an ambitious vision: to have more of his depictions of Ts’í P’ín displayed in the museum than O’Keeffe herself created throughout her entire career, with nineteen works currently installed as part of this endeavor. He envisions this comprehensive project as "Our Private Mountain," a testament to his ongoing commitment to capturing the spirit and significance of this sacred place.

This significant artistic undertaking is a cornerstone of the exhibition "Tewa Nangeh/Tewa Country," a compelling showcase that intentionally juxtaposes the works of twelve Tewa Indigenous artists, scholars, and culture bearers with the iconic paintings of Georgia O’Keeffe. O’Keeffe’s deeply imprinted depictions of the region have become so synonymous with northern New Mexico that they often function as stand-ins for the place itself. Throughout her prolific career, O’Keeffe captured the Southwest in countless canvases, featuring landscapes, animal bones, flowers, trees, and buildings. However, it is her sweeping landscapes that have resonated most profoundly, contributing to a popular perception of the region as a serene, almost empty desert paradise. This perspective, often distilled into the singular label of "O’Keeffe Country," notably omitted the enduring human presence and ancestral connection of the Tewa people. As Garcia aptly points out, "Tewa people are still living on this land. We still have our ancestral place names for pretty much all of Tewa country," a living testament to their continuous inhabitation and stewardship. He further emphasizes their enduring spiritual connection, stating, "We’re still living within our four sacred mountains."

Despite the resurgence of Indigenous voices and artistic perspectives, O’Keeffe’s visual legacy continues to dominate the popular imagination of New Mexico. In a 1977 interview with Newsweek, she referred to Ts’í P’ín, which she simply called "the Pedernal," as "my private mountain. It belongs to me. God told me that if I painted it enough, I could have it." This possessive viewpoint has proven remarkably influential, leading to a widespread tendency to view the region primarily through the lens of O’Keeffe’s artistic interpretations. This cultural phenomenon was amplified in 2021 when the New Mexico Tourism Department resurrected one of her quotes for an advertising campaign, featuring a voice-over proclaiming, "When I got to New Mexico, that was mine," against a backdrop of riders traversing the state’s distinctive red-rock landscapes.

However, the Georgia O’Keeffe Museum itself has actively challenged this notion of sole proprietorship. In a significant 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 museum’s statement articulated a critical shift in institutional perspective, recognizing that "While these quotes are from the artist, it is now clear that this is the language of possession, colonization, and erasure." This stance reflects a broader trajectory of institutional self-reflection that the museum had been undertaking. In 2020, it hosted a pivotal panel discussion titled "This is Not O’Keeffe Country," moderated by the author of this article, which featured voices such as Corrine Sanchez, executive director of Tewa Women United; Christina Castro, founder of Three Sisters Collective, an Indigenous and Pueblo-women led collective based in Santa Fe; and Jason Garcia himself.

The "Tewa Nangeh/Tewa Country" exhibition stands as a vital effort to address the omissions and blind spots created by O’Keeffe’s pervasive presence and the institutions that have, at times, capitalized on her image and mystique. By foregrounding the diverse perspectives and artistic expressions of contemporary Tewa individuals, the exhibition offers a more expansive and nuanced understanding of local Indigenous life, reminding viewers that despite her considerable fame, O’Keeffe was but one figure within the long and complex historical tapestry of Tewa Nangeh.

Among the powerful contributions to this narrative is This Land Carries Us, an exquisite experimental documentary by Charine Pilar Gonzales, a 2024 Sundance Institute Native Lab Fellow and a filmmaker deeply rooted in community engagement from San Ildefonso Pueblo. Gonzales’s mastery of rich visual layering and stop-motion animation is evident in a scene that opens with a stand of trees ablaze with autumnal orange leaves beneath a setting sun. Superimposed onto this vibrant landscape are Polaroid photographs of elders, children, and traditional ceramics, creating a poignant visual dialogue between the natural world and the enduring human culture that inhabits it. In her artist statement, Gonzales asserts, "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 belonging and continuity is also evoked in Coming Home, a captivating mural by Eliza Naranjo-Morse of Kha’p’o Owingeh, directly painted onto the gallery walls using clay meticulously gathered from across the region. The mural offers a vista looking northward through the rugged badlands and mesas of Tewa Country, a view that inspires Naranjo-Morse’s contemplation of "the understated but significant acts that maintain relationship to land, preserve the Tewa language and the values of respect and reciprocity with all life." Her artistic practice underscores the vital, ongoing work of maintaining cultural heritage and ecological balance.

Other artworks in the exhibition confront the unique perils that have impacted New Mexico, particularly the devastating effects of climate change and the legacy of nuclear weapons. Michael Namingha, an artist of Ohkay Owingeh and Hopi heritage, powerfully addresses these themes in Disaster #8. The painting depicts a massive cloud of smoke ominously suspended above a mountain landscape. While the smoke is a direct reference to the Hermits Peak/Calf Canyon Fire of 2022, the largest wildfire in New Mexico’s history, its visual resonance also suggests the terrifying mushroom clouds of atomic explosions. Namingha’s work enters into a potent dialogue with O’Keeffe’s 1945 painting, Red with Yellow, created in the same year the first atomic bomb was detonated in a New Mexico desert deemed "unpopulated" by the military. Both artists employ a similar fiery palette of acid oranges and reds, but Namingha imbues these colors with contemporary meaning, referencing the Air Quality Index chart, a stark reminder of environmental degradation and the lingering specter of nuclear activity.

Several pieces directly challenge O’Keeffe’s perceived proprietorship of the landscape. In one of Jason Garcia’s Tewa Tales of Suspense series, rendered as comic book-style clay tablets about the size of an iPad and fired using traditional Pueblo pottery techniques, O’Keeffe herself appears as a character. Depicted against the backdrop of Ts’í P’ín, clad in her signature black wrap dress and hat, a sign behind her initially reads "Welcome to O’Keeffe Country." However, the name "O’Keeffe" has been deliberately scratched out and replaced with "TEWA," a clear and potent statement of reclaiming the narrative and asserting Tewa sovereignty over the land and its representation.

This exhibition emerges within a broader cultural context where narratives of the past are fiercely contested. Six years ago, the O’Keeffe Museum initiated its critical examination of O’Keeffe’s role in Indigenous erasure. Today, the national discourse has increasingly shifted rightward, impacting the realm of imagery and cultural representation. Last summer, the U.S. Department of Homeland Security controversially shared John Gast’s infamous "Manifest Destiny" tableau, American Progress, accompanied by a quote that echoed sentiments of white nationalism: "A Heritage to be proud of, a Homeland worth Defending." Concurrently, governmental policies have sought to curtail 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 cuts, according to proposed federal budgets.

In response to these challenges, Bess Murphy, the O’Keeffe Museum’s Luce Curator of Art and Social Practice and co-curator of the exhibition, emphasizes the imperative for a more compassionate approach. "We can and should do better and work from a place of care instead of violence, fear or racism," she stated. The exhibition’s collaborative ethos is central to this mission. All twelve participating artists were involved in every stage of the curation process, from selecting which O’Keeffe paintings would be included to writing their own exhibition texts, which were then meticulously copyedited by Dr. Beverly Singer, an Indigenous anthropologist from Santa Clara Pueblo. Furthermore, Garcia noted that a map delineating the six Tewa pueblos, featuring Tewa place names and ancestral villages, was also a product of this collaborative endeavor. This framework champions self-representation, fostering artist and community-led exhibitions that provide vital, instructive dialogues about a region that has for too long been defined by external perspectives. The exhibition ultimately offers a powerful argument for the enduring significance of Indigenous presence, history, and artistic vision in shaping the understanding of place.