Description

T’Sikumu Pin

This painting has taught me that art is timeless. Many summers ago my husband was fishing at the fourth pond, a small lake that lays at the bottom of one of our sacred mountains. We call it T’sikumu Pin; others know it by Chacoma or baldy peak. I was not with Murphy on that day, he told me this story and I wanted to paint the memory and remember the moment, never thinking that would be the last time we would ever see this place as it was.

He was fishing all alone at the waters edge, lost in thought. His love of the canyon was as strong as everyone in our tribe. Strong! As he was standing on the shore reeling his pole back and forth, casting the line out then back again, he realized that a large buck had wandered close to where he was standing, as he looked up there was his herd following. At first fear struck him, a buck could be dangerous when protecting his herd, but Murphy stood quietly and spoke to him in Tewa. A prayer of gratitude to them. They stood and stared, looking into a soul. Murphy watched and listened as thy came and drank from the pond. And then as quietly as they had arrived they were gone. A sign from our Creator? Possibly, as a Pueblo person I believe it was a sign of things to come. When he told me this story I listened with such profound interest, happy that he had this moment.

Several weeks later we went fishing together at the lower pond. Quite a distance from where Murphy was fishing that particular day. We took a chance that our lands were still open, as earlier in the week a wildfire had broken out miles and miles away from where we lived. Our people were aware that it could spread……. but it was so far away that we really did not believe it could get as bad as it did. The winds had picked up a great deal that day. We spent most of the day fishing, driving to T’Skimumu and back. That was the last time I saw our scared lands. Tears run when I think of it.

Fire…………..spread so fast. Within hours of our time in the mountains the winds pushed the fire so fast that it had spread 20 miles within a day. The place where Murphy and I were fishing was now charred, burning out of control and headed for our village.

Years have passed and we are healing. Elders have tried their best to teach us about our lives, our times on earth. How sacred the Mother Earth is and that we do not think of her much until we lose a part of her.

Mother Earth tells me that she is feeling better, Father Sky has dropped water to her, they are happy. The Luna is shining bright, Than Sedo is warming her and she is bringing back the life that was lost.

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