So You Want to Buy Some Pueblo Pottery...

I was back in New Mexico for a few days around New Years to load up all of our stuff that was still in storage in Santa Fe. Shortly after my arrival, my brother, a connoisseur of book stores, took me to a great one on Central Avenue in Albuquerque. I like finding inexpensive vintage books and magazines on Native American culture, and this place had plenty!

I was excited to find a beautiful magazine from 1961 called "Indian Life". It was published by the "Inter-Tribal Indian Ceremonial Association", which produces the yearly Inter-Tribal Indian Ceremonial Exposition in Gallup, NM. I guess the magazine served as sort of an informative guide to the Ceremonial and souvenir of the event. It is printed in full, blazing color, and has amazing photos and some fun articles. I didn't have an opportunity to read the whole thing until a few weeks ago, and was delighted to discover a big article about pottery inside! Given the theme of my most recent blog posts, I figured it would be fun to share it.

It was written in a different time, remember, so you'll have to excuse certain outdated, wince-inducing turns of phrase (the "unsophisticated Indian potter"? yikes!) Oh, and next time you are shopping for a piece of pottery high on the mesa at Acoma, you probably shouldn't "wet your finger and run it along the paint" --trust me, that "paint" isn't going to run, though you may have to if the potter catches you subjecting her art to your dripping finger!

Clicking the images below takes you to the Picasa album, where you can use the magnifying glass icon to make them bigger!

(all images above courtesy Gallup Inter-Tribal Indian Ceremonial Association.)

"The pottery bug is virulent and there is no known cure" the article proclaims; and rightly so, I'm sure, though my current budget certainly keeps the bug quite in check. If only a fine piece of pottery could be had today at the prices of 1961!

I really enjoyed sharing my experience at Felipe's studio with you all. For the advanced potter wishing to try their hand at micaceous pottery, Felipe does sell and ship his micaceous clay in 25 pound bags for $50.00 plus $10.00 shipping. I didn't realize that until after my visit. The morning before our moving day, I felt compelled to rush back out to La Madera to buy a bag. When I pulled up the smell of cooking bacon greeted me; breakfast at Owl Peak was in full swing!

The clay is supplied with dried squares of clay to be re-hydrated and used as slip; it is an extra sparkly clay dug from a pit that has a higher proportion of mica.

Not only is Felipe a renowned potter, sought-after medicine man and all around nice guy, it turns out he also opens up his home as a Bed and Breakfast! That morning the table was crowded with visitors: a young man who directs commercials in Los Angeles, a writer, a purveyor of high-end lumber, another local potter, etc... all happy to have found themselves together, enjoying good coffee (from micaceous pottery mugs!) and good food under the roof of one very talented and generous "master of ceremonies", Felipe Ortega!

As I departed, this time for good, with my bag of precious clay, a retired couple was ambling up towards the studio, excited to procure a fine piece of micaceous pottery from the source. As he did with me, Felipe greeted them warmly and ushered them in out of the cold morning air, and just as it was for me, I know that day will be a highlight of their stay in Northern New Mexico!

Mica Mines and the Pottery that Glitters Like Gold, Part Three: Firing Felipe's Pots!

When famed Jicarilla Apache medicine man and potter Felipe Ortega agreed to have me out to his studio in La Madera, New Mexico, to watch and photograph him as he created one of his coveted micaceous clay pots, I never dreamed the experience would be such a complete one. I barely kept up as he formed a bean pot before my very eyes; the pace slowed as I was welcomed into Felipe's circle of family and friends to enjoy a hearty lunch, then it was back out to the studio, where, before I knew it, Felipe was readying the fire that would transform a batch of recently shaped vessels into durable pieces of cookware that were destined for collections and stovetops around the world.

I hope that by now you will have been enticed to read Felipe's excellent article "The Art and Practice of Jicarilla Apache Micaceous Pottery Manufacturing," which explains each step in the production of a traditional micaceous vessel. If you compare each step with the photos in my previous post, you should have an excellent understanding of the process, and you will probably also notice that in my documentation I missed some crucial steps in the process: sanding, application of slip, and polishing. Those steps were not scheduled for the day of my visit, so I am delighted to be able to refer you to videos that Brian Grossnickle, a former apprentice of Felipe's and an accomplished potter himself, has produced that illustrate sanding, applying slip, and polishing micaceous pottery.

Felipe had several pots that were polished and ready to go in the fire that afternoon; it turns out that he planned to deliver those very pots to his gallery in Santa Fe that evening! Firing micaceous pottery is not the long, drawn-out process I thought it might be; though some potters may consider the clay finicky and prescribe ideal conditions under which the pottery must be fired, Felipe fires his pieces whenever he finds convenient, and he rarely loses a piece in the process.

He began by clearing a space on his outdoor hearth and starting a fire with branches and brush that burned quick and hot. This fire rendered a nice bed of hot coals over which to stack the pots, but first Felipe set down a metal grate, perhaps an old oven rack or two, so that the pots wouldn't sit directly on the coals:

He stepped away for a moment and returned with some well-dried cow patties that he would place amongst the pots; these would burn in such a way as to leave unique black "fire clouds" on the fired pottery:

Then the pots were arranged on the metal grate:

The cow patties were tucked strategically in amongst the pots:

I've taken several pottery classes, and I recall always having to be careful not to allow pieces that were being loaded into the kiln to touch each other; the glaze vitrifies under the heat, causing any parts that touched to stick ruinously together. Felipe's pieces, shiny though their surfaces may be, are not glazed -- the shine results from the meticulous sanding and manual polishing of the already glittery, mica-flecked surface -- thus Felipe's pots may be stacked closely, right against each other, with no danger of sticking.

Now it's time to build the "kiln" around the stack of pots. Felipe selected from a great pile of thick, curved slabs of Ponderosa Pine bark several pieces and quickly positioned them among, and then around, the pots, forming a sort of wigwam:

Satisfied with the structure, Felipe suddenly hopped right over it and emerged from the billowing clouds of smoke with an armload of dry branches, which he placed on top:

The branches were alight almost immediately, and the pine bark began to roar and hiss as the temperature in the pile soared:

Moving aside a charred piece of bark to peer into the pile, Felipe watched for the moment that his pots began to glow red:

It doesn't take long! Maybe 20 minutes or so, before the heat of the fire had caused the pots to glow bright red, indicating that their transformation was complete!

No lengthy, controlled "cool down" time is required as it is with most pottery; the mica imparts in this clay the ability to withhold extremes in temperature without breaking, making micaceous pottery ideal to cook in. Felipe began to pluck his pots from the still-flaming pile and transferred them to a piece of corrugated metal to cool:

Not a single pot broken!

The areas where the dried cow patty came in contact with the pottery resulted in beautiful, shadowy fire clouds, each as unique as a fingerprint. Felipe had also inverted one shallow bowl over another with a patty in between. Burning in that enclosed space, the patty was consumed in a low oxygen environment, causing just the inner surfaces of the bowls to be blackened by the "reduction" firing. Felipe examines the effect, and likes it:

Before long the pots were cool to the touch, and as I gathered up my things, Felipe wiped any remaining soot off of each pot and wrapped it in newspaper.

Those pots were bound for the gallery at Cafe Pasqual's, the famed Santa Fe restaurant, that very evening. Given the effort that goes into creating each one, from the digging and processing of the clay that is dug from the same pits his ancestors have dug from for centuries, through the many steps of creation, and to the final transformation through firing, Felipe's pots are a bargain. His pricing is straightforward: $100 per quart, literally measured by scooping quarts of dried pinto beans into the finished vessel.

I simply couldn't leave that day without something tangible to remind me of my visit, and was thankful that Felipe had a coffee mug, half price because it had suffered a minor cosmetic mishap in firing (it does happen on occasion), just for me. I treasure it, but don't think that means I put it on my bookshelf to gaze upon; I drink my coffee out of it. Every morning. And I love it. Thanks Felipe!

Mining New Mexico: Mica Mines and the Pottery that Glitters Like Gold, Part One

Alas, our time in the Land of Enchantment amounted to little more than an extended vacation; a month in Corrales and two more in Santa Fe before the lure of better work prospects drew us further west to Oakland, California. There is so much to see and do in New Mexico; we managed to get in several little adventures during our stay, but the possibilities for further exploration seem truly limitless there, if one's time allows. One brisk morning we headed north out of Santa Fe, Taos bound, to see what the day might bring.

We passed under a few highway overpasses embellished with images that reflect aspects of the local Pueblo culture:







and spied a monumental lithic dromedary (Camel rock!) gazing out over the expansive landscape:



We spent a few hours poking around Taos before heading north on U.S. 64 out of town towards the Rio Grande Gorge. Now that was a sight for which I had been totally unprepared. Having never visited the Grand Canyon, I can't compare the two, but as we approached the bridge that spans that gorge I could hardly believe my eyes. We parked and walked halfway across the bridge, where the view over that vast gorge was positively breathtaking! I had never heard anything about this place before, but I felt certain that what I was seeing must surely have been every bit as awe-inspiring as the Grand Canyon!



Eventually we made our way back to the car and, consulting our guide book, found that we were a reasonable distance from the town of Ojo Caliente, home of the famous hot mineral springs! Reckoning that a goodly hot soaking might be a fine way to conclude the day, we adjusted our course towards Ojo, and were there well before sundown.



The hot springs themselves were not quite the rustic, backcountry pools I had envisioned; a rather posh resort-like environment now envelopes the 4 original mineral pools, and an admission fee must be surrendered to gain access. As it turns out, admission is slightly discounted after 6 pm, so we decided to explore the area a bit until that time. A map available in the lobby indicates that hiking trails extend for several miles out behind the resort, leading to the ruins of a Tewa Indian pueblo on the mesa above the resort, and also to a few abandoned mica mines further out. The main path leading up to the lobby entrance continues out towards the trails:



The ruins above Ojo Caliente, called Posi Ouinge, are the remains of a thriving community inhabited by the Tewa people between around 1300 to early 1500 a.d.



People have been attracted to the healing waters of the hot springs for thousands of years; while the Tewa are believed to have relocated to other areas after a period of illness reduced their population, the Spanish took up residence in the area shortly thereafter.

To the untrained eye, there is little left to indicate that a city once stood here; time and erosion have erased most traces of walls and plazas. Look down, however, and the signs of human habitation are scattered everywhere in the form of broken bits of pottery.



Some pieces are colored, some bear remnants of vivid geometric designs, some are inscribed with neat rows of lines, and others are dull black, but glisten curiously in the sunlight. One of these latter pieces glistened so brightly I thought surely I had spotted a nugget of gold! Closer inspection revealed that tiny flecks of what appeared to be mica embedded in the fire-blackened clay of a pottery sherd were responsible for that golden flash.



Knowing that some old mica mines lay further out, I wondered if mica from the area had been worked into the clay for either decorative or utilitarian purposes. I took a few photos of the potsherds and then we hiked our way out towards the mica mines.

The mines weren't difficult to spot. We knew well in advance that we were on the right track, as the ground became increasingly sparkly with flakes of mica as we approached the shallow caves.









As we were walking towards the caves, eyes trained on the ground, my heart would skip a beat every time I spotted a chunk of mica larger than a quarter. Little did I know that the mines would yield massive sheets of mica the size of which I had never before seen.

Yes, I am putting those in my backpack; while collecting pottery sherds is strictly forbidden, I believe it is ok to collect some samples of the mica.

Thin, transparent sheets can be peeled off of the "books" of mica. Once, on a tour of Acoma Pueblo, I recall learning that the adobe-walled pueblos were fitted with windows created using sheets of mica; I had a hard time picturing it, since I had only ever seen little flakes of mica. The sheets we found could easily be trimmed into neat squares and secured in wooded frames, making perfectly serviceable windows!



Perhaps the pueblo people used sticky Piñon resin to seal up their mica windows? I couldn't help but stop to scoop up the fragrant resin that oozed from the many dead Piñon pine trees in the area, victims of the 2002- 2003 drought and heat wave that took quite a toll on New Mexico's Piñon population.





As the sun sank below the horizon, we realized that 6pm was nearly upon us; we hastily loaded up my mica and Piñon resin and made our way back down the trail towards the hot springs. The evening was cold and clear by the time we arrived; steam rolled off of the surface of the various mineral-rich springs as burning Piñon fires perfumed the air. My muscles ached from carrying back the heavy burden of mica samples I had collected, and it felt just grand to lay back in the hot water and look up at the steep wall of the mesa upon which the old Tewa village once stood; stars twinkling above. I felt privileged to have the opportunity to soak away my aches and pains as countless generations before me had done; I hope you have the opportunity to explore Ojo Caliente someday too!

A few days after visiting Ojo Caliente, a curious coincidence revealed all sorts exciting information about the glittery, mica-enriched pottery pieces I had noticed at the Posi Ouinge ruins. It turns out that "micaceous pottery" is well-known to archaeologists and aficionados of indigenous pottery, and soon I would find myself back on the road towards Ojo to meet up with a fellow who is well-known for transforming the local mica-rich clay into beautiful (and useable!) pieces of pottery! I hope you will check back soon for part two of the "Mica Mines and the Pottery that Glitters Like Gold" story!!!

A Temple of Turquoise in Kingman, Arizona: Colbaugh Processing!

I have a new Mining New Mexico post in the works, but in the meantime I have one final turquoise-related discovery to add to my "Turquoise Trilogy"!

When I relocated to Santa Fe from Providence, I had hoped that the numerous museums and galleries in Santa Fe would provide ample work opportunities in my field of museum art handling and exhibit installation. Alas, the economy has not been kind to the arts in Santa Fe, and after three months in the city and no likely prospects for work, the difficult decision to move on west to the San Francisco Bay area was made. While I was sad to be leaving the "Land of Enchantment," I looked forward to making a few stops along the trip west, one of which, in Kingman, Arizona, was Colbaugh Processing Inc., the processing facility and retail shop for a renowned Arizona turquoise mining operation.

After a restful night in the sleepy Route 66 town of Seligman, AZ, we headed out early, bound for Kingman, about an hour west. The facility wasn't difficult to spot; the cheery little building was painted in hues that left no question as to the nature of their business: Turquoise!





I might have been content to poke around all morning in the parking lot, which was liberally peppered with colorful leftovers from mining and processing operations:



That's alot of turquoise!

Eventually I diverted my attention from the mineral-rich parking lot towards the door marked "Office," behind which a small world of wonder awaited:



Tables were crowded with bins of turquoise from Kingman as well as several other mines. Much like pearls and opals, turquoise, in its raw natural state, is susceptible to damage and discoloration by exposure to detergents, excessive sunlight, cosmetics, perfumes, and our skin's natural oils. Recognizing that many folks would like to maintain the color and integrity of their stones without, for instance, removing turquoise rings and bracelets every time they wash their hands, Colbaugh specializes in stones that have been stabilized, a process by which the turquoise is saturated with an epoxy resin that renders it nearly impervious to harm by the various factors mentioned above. Colbaugh stabilizes their turquoise on-site, and the retail shop offers everything from colorful chips literally swept off the workshop floor at the end of the day and sold by the pound, to massive, weighty hunks of turquoise, the size of which I had only ever seen in museums.



For the purist, bins of completely natural, unstabilized stones of every size are offered as well:



Below the tables are buckets brimming with even more turquoise:



The walls are laden with lush swags of turquoise beads in every shape and size imaginable:



In fact, every surface in the shop is crowded with colorful mineral wonders!



Need an exceptionally fine specimen to brighten up your curio cabinet? Done!



Inside the glass counter are samples of turquoise from around the world (I didn't notice any Cerrillos turquoise, but I might have just overlooked it!):



The friendly gal behind the counter went out of her way to answer my many questions and patiently weighed and priced each of the "prize specimens" I excavated from the bins of rough, natural turquoise. Priced at between $100 and $250 a pound, I expected that my generous selections might have been very expensive, but I picked out three nicely sized pieces for only $15.00 and treated myself to an additional 1/2 pound of the "floor sweepings" for only $7.50.



Colbaugh Processing leases the right to collect turquoise from an active local copper mining operation; copper is the element that imparts the blue hue to turquoise, and the two minerals are often found in tandem. I was giddy from my visit to Colbaugh Processing as we headed north out of Kingman towards the Hoover Dam and Las Vegas. My turquoise fever now very much reignited, my heart skipped a beat as I spied the mine site in the hills a few miles north of the shop:



There was no time to stop and explore, but opening up my brown paper bag of floor sweepings that evening at the hotel in Bakersfield was tantamount to the suspense and excitement of Christmas morning: I spent a blissful hour excitedly picking through my little pile of sweepings, marveling at the color and variety of tiny treasures therein. If ever you find yourself near Kingman, I promise you'll find a little chunk of heaven (or a bucket full, depending on your needs) at Colbaugh Processing!


My "floor sweepings." Not bad, eh?