Except as noted, all images copyrighted by and should be attributed to E B Hawley.
I had become many eons ago a traveling literary gnome, inquisitive about places I had and had not visited,
walking the same paths of peoples from the past, through places once grand and still grand,
photographing images that now show me the places about which I still dream . . .

Sunday, July 4, 2010

Santa Fe and its Opera: Grand

        Before you point your nose in the direction of New Mexico to travel to Santa Fe, do buy Barbara Harrelson's book,  Walks In Literary Sante Fe: A Guide to Landmarks, Legends and Lore. Harrelson makes sure that you do not have to scrounge for literature, as I did, about the grand town of Santa Fe. With only a few hours available to walk around in Santa Fe, the city provided a packed time and interesting subject matter for art enthusiasts and photographers. In addition to the remarkable culture, the weather seemed remarkable. In one direction we viewed lightning, and in another we spotted rainbows. Santa Fe seemed to me well-worth the altitude sickness for this Panhandle Plains gnome.
View outside my hotel window at El Dorado. 


Northwest corner of the plaza in downtown Santa Fe.


Visitors outside the Sage Creek Gallery.


Ken Rowe's work astonished me with its presence.


       Look through a shop's doors or windows in Santa Fe and one could encounter strong artistic renditions, such as Ed Natiya's sculpture pictured above.
 
Zuber Gallery.


We chatted with some of the artists. 


Gogy Farias sculpted the image of the Lady of Guadalupe for display at the sanctuary.


       Oh, I neglected to see who sculpted the above rendition of Saint Francis (my hero) standing before the Basilica of Saint Francis. 


       Inside and outside the buildings of Santa Fe, one can appreciate art. Here, the staircase of the Chapel of Loretto. My wager, were I a betting person, would pit all photographs taken of the staircase against any future architectural photographs by FEK. Frances, put this one on your bucket list, please.


       Gabriel stands outside the Analco House -- the oldest house in Santa Fe -- built to shelter the fellows who built the Church of San Miguel across the street. 


The Church of San Miguel has many details that make it a good stop when you visit Santa Fe. 


       Opening the season of the opera in Santa Fe calls for champagne. We attended a tailgate party hosted by our newest friends, Lauren and Walter. 


       Somehow the ominous clouds delayed their performance to provide special effects during the last scene of Madame Butterfly. As Butterfly learned of her betrayal, thunder shot across the north of the city, and rain poured sideways, drenching opera fans sitting underneath the roof of the Crosby Theatre. 



Clouds and a setting sun behind the Jemez mountains in the distance, and white pansies in the foreground at the entrance of the Crosby Theatre.


The amazing Crosby Theatre has no walls. Only until recently it had no roof. 


Experienced opera-goers bring umbrellas with them.


       Are those clouds in the sky in the background the stage producer's painting? No! Sitting in your seat at the Crosby Theatre you can see through the stage to the New Mexican horizon, stormy clouds and all. 


      Kelly Kaduce and the other artists who performed in Madame Butterfly stand, drenched by the sideways rain, before a long ovation. Flawless, perfect, and spirited performances by great artists bring tears to my eyes. The opening evening, with its great performance, seemed all the more memorable with the lightning, thunder, and rain blowing side-ways onto the people, the artists on the stage, and the orchestra. 


      After the performance finished at mid-night, the rain still poured by the bucket-full. I had the opportunity to capture the image above of ladies coming out of the ladies room at the Crosby Theatre. 


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Let Lovely Turn of Phrase Begin

JMHawley Gave Me a Kiss to Build a Dream On

Listen, will you? I think that . . . literature, poetry, music and love make the world go round . . . while mathematics explains things; I fill my life with them, then go walking in snowy woods.
Let us go then, you and I
like two etherized patients floating
through life, together feeling prufrockian.
DDB Jr. makes my world go 'round; during his absence, Pachelbel fills it up.
One summer I sailed across the Atlantic Ocean, then through the Gulf of Finland to reach Saint Petersburg; I pursued Joseph Brodsky in its alley ways. I dream of making that two summers.
I read “Biking to Electra;” found my way in a Jaguar car, and glanced at the flashing steel grasshoppers at sunset. I’ll follow K.O.P.’s footsteps after he followed N.Scott Momaday’s; find warmth and inspiration on a rainy mountain.
Throw chinese coins for the I Ching.
Save the whales, the spotted owl, the woman in toil.
Cast a fly for trout; my memories of fly fishing under the sunny blue Colorado sky remain; I yearn to build more . . . with more trophy Browns.
Listen for the swan’s calls on the Baltic Sea. Feel KKII's joy, his arms spread wide in Yazilikaya.
Good night, Jimmy Durante, where ever you are.