Practical spirituality for a complicated world.
Several weeks ago, while visiting with a friend over a cup of coffee, I knew I was going to have to write about part of our conversation, namely the importance of acknowledging and honouring our roots. The friend with whom I was sharing coffee and conversation is the internationally known photographer, Gene Peach. He's led a fascinating life, and his art has taken him to the most unlikely places. Whether he's rubbing elbows with artists and patrons in fancy gallery openings, on a photographing assignment, or sitting at the Redneck Hindu's kitchen table drinking strong Southern coffee, Gene remains true to his own roots. Through so doing, he remains true to himself.
Gene Peach's new book, a co-operative effort with the legendary Max Evans, is quite impressive, indeed. It is called
Making a Hand, Growing up Cowboy in New Mexico
, published by the Museum of New Mexico Press. The photographs in this book are among the best work Gene has ever produced. They are alive with spirit, both his own, as well as that of his subjects. I really love the way he has captured the working partnership between people and their animals. Gene spent many months living with the cowboys, ranchers and their families. I loved hearing how they accepted him, opening their lives and hearts in support of his project. Many people today live totally disconnected from nature, the land and sky, and know nothing of the source of their food. I don't think most folks realise just how delicate their food delivery system is. A lot of things had to happen before you went to the store and bought your groceries. It's good to be a bit more aware of the chain of interdependence that connects us all.
Here in New Mexico, there's a big country just down the road from the suburbs. There are lots of farms and ranches, worked by real people, living real lives, passing on a heritage with deep, deep roots in our land. I am amazed that Gene has been able to capture so much of that life in his photographs. I confess that I am stumped by that process. During many of my travels, I've seen marvelous sights. I've tried to bring a bit of their magic home with me through taking pictures with my trusty little 35mm. Invariably, after having the pictures developed, I wonder why I took this picture or that picture. They seem flat and lifeless, compared to what I was originally photographing. Therefore, I appreciate the artistry involved in Gene's work. And for all you single gals out there, I hear that Gene is available. He's a good catch, ladies! Although, I must say that he's not ageing nearly as well as I am. But, don't tell him I told you that.
I was the first in my family, on both sides, to be raised apart from a farm. Our community was surrounded by farms, and many of my cousins were raised on farms, so I had a connection to that life. We thought that we lived in "town", but actually, it was more like Hooterville. Mayberry would've seemed like a big city to us. I could ride my bike for three or four minutes in any direction and be in the woods. My grandparents kept chickens, and I gathered eggs on a daily basis. Did you know that chickens are smart? I've seen them kill and eat a black snake before you could ever guess what happened. My grandfather also raised and sold bird dogs. People came from all over South Mississippi to buy a bird dog from Mr. Rance Odom. We had a summer garden, so I grew up pulling corn, cutting okra, picking peas, and always, always hoeing weeds. Thank goodness that I didn't know what 150% humidity was back then. To us, it was just normal. If I'd ever gone to my grandparents or parents and told them I was bored, they'd have given me some more chores to do. That was in the days before parents arranged their lives around little Chad's rugby practice or Tiffany's movement recital. As cruel as it may sound to modern ears, we were expected to entertain ourselves, and stay out of the way. Now, before you retroactively call the child welfare workers, let me tell you that we did spend a lot of time with the adults around us. My grandparents were especially keen on passing along their Southern culture, for which I continue to be grateful. My Odom grandparents were two of the kindest, most warm-hearted people you could ever imagine. They adored me, as well, so it was a mutual admiration society. I still think of my grandparents often, and I miss them very much. I don't miss my life from those days, for it was hard in so many ways. But, I sure do miss Mama and Papa. They were the best role models anyone could have wished for.
Gene and I were talking about some of this the other day, how having the background of being country boys creates a common ground for looking at the world today. We don't share the disdain for ranchers and country folk that so many urban dwellers, especially here in Santa Fe, seem to have. I told Gene the story of how I was recently giving directions to a well dressed, if rather preppy looking man. He never thanked me. After getting the directions he needed, he cocked his head, looked up and down at my hat and boots, curled his top lip, and snarled, "Where are you from, Texas?" I replied, "No, I'm from London, England. Can't you tell from the way I talk?" Gene lived too long amongst the Yankees in the Deep North, therefore little of the South remains in his voice. However, if he had to choose between pesto encrusted brie, folded within a crispy Parisian baguette, or a plate of cornbread, fried okra and black-eyed peas, I suspect I know what he'd choose. Personally, I'd have the latter, but smothered in red chile. Oh yeah, I almost forgot...sprinkled with a handful of Queso Mennonita from Chihuahua.
Gene Peach is not a "cowboy" photographer. He's an artist, who will even photograph Redneck Hindus. Keeping that in mind, I now have his commitment to photograph me for the cover of
Autobiography of a Redneck Hindu
. So now, I've got the manuscript, a terrific title, and a photographer of international renown to take my picture for the cover. Thank you, Spirit. In the meantime, while we're all waiting for my book to be published, go out and get Gene Peach's book,
Making a Hand, Growing up Cowboy in New Mexico
. It is one of those books destined to become a classic. It must be a really good feeling to know you've produced a work that will always be around. I can tell you this for sure: any collection or library of New Mexican history and culture will be incomplete without it. We can't have that now, can we? Congratulations Gene, on a job well done. OM
To ask Robert a question, visit his website at www.RobertOdom.com, email desertrj@msn.com or send mail to PO Box 33, Santa Fe, NM 87504.
