“Another human being in the wilderness”

Okay, I left off with a memory of the time we visited Taos with my Mom and Dad, when Dave was just a teenager. I had just gotten us through the Fechin House and we exited into the gift shop. I’ve got one more story about that particular trip and the particular day.

As we entered the gift shop, there were three other people. A volunteer -- a slim, pleasant woman at the counter -- and two other tourists. The other tourists were two women, older but not senior citizens, and ...how to put this? Well, okay, say it out loud...and they were very, very snotty.

About the images: First, an interior shot of the Fechin House. This fine photo, I regret to say, is not mine. It is by the artist and architectural historian Archinia, and is made available on Wikimedia under a Creative Commons mark: Archinia, CC BY-SA 3.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0>, via Wikimedia Commons. It may be found here: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Fechin_Studio_Interior.JPG

Second, the young boy who so delighted the volunteer at the museum is now a grown man, and he did indeed become an artist, an architect, and a father in his own right. Here he is with his mother in a local park last year.

They seemed to have money, but neither taste nor much conception of civility. They were looking at the items on sale -- reproductions of Fechin’s own work, books, pamphlets, southwestern-themed art by other artists and artisans, and so on. As museum gift shops go, it was really rather good. And the prices were not outrageous.

But you wouldn’t have known it from the two women. Their conversation was an endless series of complaints and critiques vocalized rather loudly. I’d say it was endless kvetching (something I hate) but it was worse than that. It was contempt. “Look at that! Do you see it? Do you see the price? On that piece of trash?” “Shameful! Call that art? Call that horrid old man an artist?” “And *this*? Do you see it? Forty dollars for that? I bet it was made in...in...Japan or something.” “They’re just flogging it for the visitors.”

I looked up. The volunteer, the slim woman at the cash register, was standing with her teeth gritted, her knuckles white as she gripped the counter.

It so happened that I came to the counter to pay for some item we were getting. The woman looked at me, briefly, and then her gaze returned to the two tourists. I spoke to her quietly. “You are a very patient woman.”

She glanced at me again. “Sometimes.”

The two women left, leaving behind a blessed silence. The volunteer turned to us. I finished my purchase. And then she saw David.

At that time, David wasn’t quite sure what he wanted to do. It was going to be something in the arts. That much was sure. But he also loved building and structures.

And that’s why he was delighted by Fechin. Here was an artist, but one who built things. Someone who combined design and aesthetics with construction. I didn’t know it...maybe he didn’t either...but right then and there he was deciding that, eventually, he would be an architect. Which is what he is today.

So it was that at that time, in the Fechin Museum, he was so excited he could barely stand himself. It was all so marvelous.

And she saw him. She saw this young man -- so excited by all that he was seeing --after she’d dealt with those two boorish clowns. And the expression on her face can be summed up as “Oh, my God! It’s another human being in the wilderness!”

She left the counter and headed over to him. They chatted about Fechin, and what was on display. He wanted to buy a couple of small things and I said I’d pay for them. She asked him, “Are you an artist?” He answered, “I’m trying to be.”

She nodded. I’m sure she was also an artist herself. I’m sure that she saw in him something of herself.

Anyway, I paid for his purchases. Suddenly, she stopped and said to David, “Here! Take this. No charge.” And she rolled up a gorgeous poster for him. It was a reproduction of one of Fechin’s self-portraits in ink. He accepted it with genuine gratitude.

He took it home, and I know it was on his wall for years afterwards. Both at our house, and at his first apartments, when he left for school and later.

I’ve always wondered what happened to the woman, the volunteer. I wish I could find her, thank her again for the poster, and assure her that she had been right, and our David fulfilled her expectations. He has become the Creative she knew him to be. Someone, I’m sure, like herself.

Anyway, that’s my last story about our trip to Taos with my Mom and Dad. But, not to worry, it won’t be the last of my tales of our visits to the Taos Art Museum at the Fechin House as it is now called(*). Suffice to say, though, that if you’re in Taos, do be sure to visit.

Coming up next, I return to our own trip to Taos in 2025. And, yes, there will be more adventures yet to come. Including a breathtaking war memorial that we never knew existed.

Stay tuned.

Footnote:

*The Museum’s webpage is here: https://www.taosartmuseum.org/

As I understand the story, Eya Fechin passed on and then the House was occupied by the Taos Art Museum in the early 2000s. The Fechin Inn, which had been behind the House (and not a part of it) was eventually acquired by Wyndham Vacation Ownership and is today known as WorldMark Taos /Club Wyndham.

~~~

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~mjt

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