Within the hushed galleries of the Georgia O’Keeffe Museum in Santa Fe, a striking series of paintings by Jason Garcia, a member of 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 the Tewa language, this iconic landform is rendered repeatedly by Garcia, each iteration capturing a unique perspective from a consistent vantage point. Some works present a minimalist aesthetic, while others showcase masterful contrasts of light and shadow, with at least two powerfully depicting the mesa under the cloak of night. This deliberate repetition serves as an act of reclamation, as Garcia, whose Tewa name is Okuu P’ín and who co-curated the exhibition, aims to feature more of his interpretations of Ts’í P’ín within the museum than O’Keeffe herself created during her lifetime. Currently, nineteen of his works adorn the museum’s walls, with plans to eventually install over thirty pieces under the collective title "Our Private Mountain."

This ambitious project is a central component of "Tewa Nangeh/Tewa Country," an exhibition that thoughtfully juxtaposes the works of twelve Indigenous Tewa artists, scholars, and culture bearers with those of Georgia O’Keeffe. O’Keeffe’s evocative and pervasive depictions of the region have become so deeply ingrained in the American consciousness that they often stand as the sole visual representation of northern New Mexico. Throughout her prolific career, O’Keeffe captured numerous scenes of the Southwest, including flora, fauna, and architecture, but it is her sweeping landscapes that have achieved enduring popularity. Much like the landscape genre itself, her paintings often appeared devoid of human presence, fostering an impression of an empty and isolated territory. Her vision of this desert sanctuary has been distilled into the ubiquitous label, "O’Keeffe Country." However, the reality, as Garcia emphasizes, is that "Tewa people are still living on this land. We still have our ancestral place names for pretty much all of Tewa country," and importantly, "We’re still living within our four sacred mountains."

Despite this enduring Indigenous presence, O’Keeffe’s interpretations of New Mexico continue to hold significant cultural sway. In a 1977 interview with Newsweek, she referred to Ts’í P’ín, which she simply called "the Pedernal," stating, "It’s my private mountain. It belongs to me. God told me that if I painted it enough, I could have it." This possessive perspective proved influential, shaping the popular understanding of an entire region through the lens of O’Keeffe’s artistry. This influence was so profound that in 2021, the New Mexico Tourism Department utilized one of her quotes in an advertising campaign, with a voice-over proclaiming, "When I got to New Mexico, that was mine," accompanying visuals of horseback riders traversing the region’s ochre bluffs.

However, the Georgia O’Keeffe Museum itself has actively challenged this narrative of ownership. The institution issued a statement declaring its disapproval of O’Keeffe’s quotes that described the New Mexico landscape as "her country" or claiming "that was mine." The statement articulated, "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 sustained period of institutional introspection, which began in earnest in 2020 with a panel discussion titled "This is Not O’Keeffe Country," moderated by the author. The panel featured prominent voices 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 "Tewa Nangeh/Tewa Country" exhibition emerges as a vital effort to counteract the visual void left by O’Keeffe’s dominant influence and the institutions that have amplified her mystique. By showcasing the works of contemporary Tewa artists, the exhibition offers more expansive reflections of local Indigenous life and heritage, reminding viewers that despite her renown, O’Keeffe was but one figure within the rich and complex history of Tewa Nangeh. Among the compelling contributions 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, presenting a scene that opens onto trees ablaze with the vibrant orange of autumn leaves against a setting sun. Superimposed upon this colorful panorama are Polaroid photographs of elders, children, and traditional ceramics, a visual testament to her belief, as she states in her artist statement, that "You cannot speak of Tewa land without also speaking of Tewa people."

Similarly, the mural "Coming Home" by Eliza Naranjo-Morse of Kha’p’o Owingeh, painted directly onto the gallery walls using clay gathered from the surrounding region, evokes a profound sense of place. The artwork captures the northward view through the badlands and mesas of Tewa Country, a vista Naranjo-Morse experienced on her drives home from Santa Fe. This personal connection inspired her to contemplate, as she articulates, "the understated but significant acts that maintain relationship to land, preserve the Tewa language and the values of respect and reciprocity with all life."

Other artworks in the exhibition confront perils uniquely intertwined with New Mexico’s history and environment, notably the impacts of climate change and nuclear weapons. Michael Namingha, of Ohkay Owingeh and Hopi heritage, presents "Disaster #8," a powerful piece depicting a colossal cloud of smoke hanging ominously above a mountainous landscape. While the smoke clearly alludes to the devastating Hermits Peak/Calf Canyon Fire of 2022, the largest in New Mexico’s history, its form also evokes the chilling imagery of nuclear mushroom clouds. Namingha ingeniously places his work in dialogue with O’Keeffe’s 1945 painting, "Red with Yellow," created in the same year the world’s first atomic bomb was detonated in a New Mexico desert expanse previously deemed unpopulated by the military. Both artists employ a fiery palette of acidic oranges and reds, but in Namingha’s rendition, these colors directly reference the Air Quality Index chart, a stark reminder of contemporary environmental anxieties.

Several pieces offer direct critiques of O’Keeffe’s perceived appropriation of the landscape. In one of Garcia’s "Tewa Tales of Suspense" series, rendered as comic book-style clay tablets approximately the size of an iPad and fired using traditional Pueblo pottery techniques with locally gathered natural pigments, O’Keeffe herself appears as a character. She is depicted standing against Ts’í P’ín, clad in her signature black wrap dress and hat. A sign behind her, initially reading "Welcome to O’Keeffe Country," has been defaced, with "O’Keeffe" scratched out and replaced with "TEWA," a bold assertion of Tewa ownership and identity.

The exhibition arrives at a crucial moment, amidst a broader national discourse grappling with competing narratives about history and representation. Six years prior, the museum initiated its critical examination of O’Keeffe’s role in Indigenous erasure. However, the current national climate has seen a pronounced shift toward the right, impacting the realm of visual culture. Last summer, the U.S. Department of Homeland Security controversially shared John Gast’s infamous Manifest Destiny painting, "American Progress," accompanied by a quote that echoed white nationalist sentiments: "A Heritage to be proud of, a Homeland worth Defending." Concurrently, federal funding for public art institutions that champion diversity, equity, and inclusion initiatives has faced significant cuts under the Trump administration. Furthermore, Indigenous and minority-serving higher education programs, including the Institute of American Indian Arts in Santa Fe, are at risk of losing funding, as indicated by proposed federal budgets.

"We can and should do better and work from a place of care instead of violence, fear or racism," stated Bess Murphy, the Georgia O’Keeffe Museum’s Luce Curator of Art and Social Practice and co-curator of the exhibition with Garcia. She highlighted the collaborative nature of the exhibition, noting that the twelve participating artists were involved in every stage of its development, from selecting O’Keeffe’s works to be displayed to writing their own exhibition texts, which were then meticulously copyedited by Dr. Beverly Singer, an Indigenous anthropologist from Santa Clara Pueblo. Garcia further elaborated that a map delineating the six Tewa pueblos, incorporating Tewa place names and ancestral villages, was also a product of this collective endeavor. This framework underscores a powerful argument for self-representation, championing artist and community-led exhibitions that foster nuanced and educational dialogues about a region too long defined by external perspectives.