In New Mexico, in the colder months – though not necessarily so – there continues the Hispano tradition of the Matanza. A pig is raised yearlong with the intention that on a special day, perhaps a birthday or an anniversary or a wedding, it is slaughtered, cooked, and consumed at a gathering of extended family and friends. On the first cold and eventually snowy morning in November Jaime awaits the signal from his Abuelo – his grandfather – to begin.
There is more to this image than meets the eye. I suppose that is why many pictures are valued more by the photographer who made them than the audience. Often images have a backstory the viewer is not privy to and this leads to the photography of self interest. I have fallen prey to it; you probably have too. We see such self-interest a lot these days of social media, especially in apps like Instagram. Most of the time I try to let – or make – the images I create stand on their own. There is something in me that believes this is the mark of good photography.
But there are also times when an image augments the words associated with it; and when words augment the image. I think this is one of those times.
This image shows a lone guitarist, on stage, playing to a single audience member who seems to be nursing his beer slowly, sip by sip. To my mind he is intrigued enough by the guitarist to draw out his enjoyment of his ale, but not enough to commit to another glass. There is a feel of sadness to this image for me – a solitariness for both men sharing this experience. One performs; the other absorbs. But each seems in their own world, with their own emotions and thoughts. I am reminded of the reality that we are each alone with our introverted nature: the thoughts and feelings of our mind.
And yet this image is anything but that. The performer, Keith Sanchez, a fantastic guitarrista from Belen, New Mexico who plays the music circuit of central New Mexico and runs the New Mexico Academy of Rock and Blues teaching children a love and appreciation for the musical style, is the son. The single audience member, his father.
This is a father and son connection. Having sons myself I can’t help but wonder at the thoughts and emotions present within the father. I’d love to know.
We spoke at length, Keith, his father, his mother, my wife, my sons, and me. I was taken with Keith’s playing style, his set list, and his choice of languages. You see, despite his heritage and name, Sanchez did not grow up speaking Spanish but rather learned while living in Ecuador with his family during his teen years. Have you ever heard “Hotel California” in Spanish? I have! He rocks it!! And he was friendly, and open, and clearly close with his parents. And he made a point to entertain my young sons from the stage. Not too big for his britches, this guitarrista.
I look forward to hearing him play again and perhaps continue our conversations. He performs at Il Vicino Cantina the last Sunday of the month, at the Luna Mansion in Los Lunas every Friday night, and periodically at Scalo’s Il Bar and Opa’s bar in Nob Hill.
On a side note, there were more audience members than myself and the father. This is a long room and the tables behind me were filled with local families and groups of friends enjoying a freshly made pint, the music, and good company.
Spectators and competitors watch bareback bronc riding at the 2012 International Indian Finals Rodeo in Albuquerque, New Mexico.
A Professional Bull Rider from Belen, New Mexico greets his wife and daughter before his comeback from injury ride in the Casper Baca Roughstock Rodeo in Belen, New Mexico, Spring 2012.
A cowboy warms himself by a cinderblock ringed campfire made of wood and Bud Light beer cases at a family matanza in the mountains of central New Mexico.
Revelers and a vendor interact, if only non-verbally, after the Dia de los Muertos Parade in Albuquerque, New Mexico, November 2012
17 year old Eloy, apprentice horseshoer, prepares to take 2 guest children for an ATV ride in the first snow of the season during the family Matanza in the mountains in New Mexico. Meanwhile the family dog, Buddy, eyes a place for himself.
A Native American boy watches the International Indian Finals Rodeo from a catwalk at the Tingley Coliseum in Albuquerque, New Mexico. September 2012.
A couple of Catron County cowboys horse around during the annual Pie Town Festival in Pie Town, New Mexico
A young Indian cowboy sits alone and brooding high in the stands at the International Indian Finals Rodeo in Albuquerque, New Mexico, September 2012.
The contestants wait all evening for the shot at glory. Whether it be a barrel race lasting nearly a minute, a team calf roping event lasting half a minute, or the eternity that 8 seconds can seem on the back of a raging bull, they have one chance in the evening to pull off a great ride or to suffer abject defeat and possible injury.
I don’t know what led this young cowpoke to brood so: a poor ride; a father’s scolding; the mocking of friends. But it was clear he needed to be with his own thoughts for a while.
The International Indian Finals Rodeo drew competitors from Calgary, from Hopi, from Mescalero Apache, from Navajo and from many in between, with each competitor carrying the pride of their tribe on their shoulders. In addition, they carried the pride of Native, First Nation’s People.
There were not many spectators. A few curious attendees, but mostly the sense was that the stands were populated with the competitors’ family members. But I tell you, the competitors were as good as they come.