I have reached mama Ocean, Yemaya and I are embracing once again. My hair is big, Good Hair, good good hair. The salty ions are cleansing me well. my cells are all plumped up. more of the roadtrip to San Diego… beloved children giving me divination readings with their decks, tattoo potentials, martial law border patrol in Arizona, cactus sentries, mesmerizing wind turbines and the first night at the ocean…
I.
Water in the desert is extremely precious. I grew up in the lush and mossy Northwest where the water element could be overly abundant at times. Moving to the Southwest has completely changed my relationship to this fundamental structure of life. Many times I will go exploring in the wild and not hear or feel the direct presence of water. This is truly like being a fish out of water.
One of my favorite places on earth is Abiquiu, New Mexico. I fell in love with this magical place three years ago when I visited The Ghost Ranch for the first time. This is the land Georgia O’Keefe claimed as her own, her sacred place; exploring & painting the mesas, arroyos and geological wonders of this expansive landscape for the last fifty years of her life. Abiquiu captured my heart and soul as well, it is the terrain of all of the “above ground” Painted Body images in my Oracle of Initiation deck.
Over two years ago I opened my solitary work with the Painted Body ritualistic photography series to collaborations with others artist, mystics & adventurers. I am thrilled to share some of the images that were created yesterday in a rainstorm with the fierce and earthened Lyric Kali. Lyric is one of those people you do not forget. When you meet her she glows. She is passionate, outspoken, perceptive and fascinated by the complexities of people’s engagement with life.
She is alive. She can also be intimidating depending on how comfortable you are with your own strength. Her work is inspiring people through her own story of struggling with self-worth through her physical form. The ways we accept or isolate ourselves because of the size, shape, or color of our bodies. She is a brave woman who embraces the underworld descent as an essential component to reaching the upper world expansion. She carries duality and paradox in a way few people can manage. She is a vision of walking your talk, even with its uncertainties and insecurities. I honor her ability to grab life and ecstatically dance with it.
Lyric became archetypal during this photo shoot. She became the flowing earth; she became the blood red water; she became the flames of power that were pounding off the rocks. She was the graceful bird, the sturdy rock, the timid maiden, the shape-shifiting priestess, the fertility Goddess in all her glory. She was The Feminine in all its various guises. It was a great honor to witness her beauty through merging with beloved Oshun, the water deity of unbridled passion and delight.
II.
I too had my own initiation with the Water Spirits surging over the canyon walls. I want to point out again the rare opportunities running water in the desert affords. I have been to my blessed Rainbow Canyon at least 40 times. I have seen running water in it TWICE. Both of those times have been in the last three weeks.
It has been my dream since moving to New Mexico to actually see what a flooding arroyo looks like. I was warned that you could be swept away by the strong torrents of rushing water when the sky really opens up. I had never been at the right place at the right time to experience this primordial force. About three weeks ago I did a major release of some fundamental pieces of my life. I had done a process and closed the door on a series of choices and relationships that no longer served me. Part of the process was to burn some sacred items. I knew I needed to bury the remains in my beloved canyon, for mama earth the transform them.
The day I went up to bury the shards the sky was dark gray; very foreboding. After surrendering my offering to the holy dirt the rains began. The Thunder Beings danced across the skies and the deluge began. It came on so quickly I could understand the warning about being taken away by the currents. I finally got to experience my sacred place when she is drenched in water. I got to hear the sounds, smell the soaked earth, see the channels of red earth merge into the stream. It was incredible. She became alive in ways I had never seen. It literally was the greatest gift I could receive. My prayers of self-liberation were answered with the best day ever. I was soaked and muddy when I walked back along the slippery road to my car. I was totally full and beaming with gratitude and joy. How could it get any better than this?
As I absorbed all of the sights and sounds of this unknown aquatic desert world I heard a powerful sound. I thought it was the reeds in the river beings whipped around by the wind. As I looked at the reeds they were still. What was this jet engine sound echoing off the canyon walls? As I looked ahead there was a massive waterfall pouring off a high bluff across the river. I was stunned. I had never witnessed the water in that way. It was as if the world was upside down, completely changed. Dry one day, moist the next. The oceans returned to this ancient land.
Blood Red Rio Grande
I yearned to baptize my new identity under its powerful vitality, but there was no way to cross the river. I stood honoring this unique miracle and then continued up the road. As I rounded a corner…the angles kissed me. A blood red, wild, rushing flow of water was leaping and pounding over the rocks on MY SIDE!!!
I sat beside the watery temple both entranced and intimidated by its fierceness. I asked my Spirits if I should go in….and they said “naw.” hmmmm. It was such a calm and centered No that I trusted it. I did analyze why I wouldn’t. This is ME. This is the woman I have become, a woman who disrobes and meets the rushing water at its source. And I got a NO. And I trusted it. So I sat and communed with the flowing altar for a bit. Out of nowhere a little truck comes chugging by; a young couple were out exploring. OH, that is why I was held back. After they passed I asked again, I got a definite yes. So I too, as Lyric just did, met the Water Spirits here on this arid desert landscape.
After each of our immersion rituals the skies cleared and the sun returned warming our satiated bodies.
What a blessed, blessed life it is.
I love to trespass. I have so few vices left that my punk rock soul needs something disobedient. “You don’t drink, don’t smoke…what do you do?” {Had to get a little Adam Ant up in here}. I am actually a fairly modest person in everyday life, despite the wild and intense work I create. I need outlets for pushing the boundaries of my courage and fierceness. There is something about a forbidden place, a place that is imposing, boarded up, abandoned that peaks my interest. What will be in there, who might have passed that way, and what did they leave behind.
I have been exploring deserted places since I was a child. I grew up in a family of artist, adventurers, scavengers; young parents who brought their curious child along on their borderland journeys. We would scale down beached barges, take photographs with graffiti strewn barns, crawl in the windows of decommissioned army housing to see what we might find. My father particularly loves to collect funky-old-cool things with character and personality. The addition he built onto his 30-year-old artists studio in Fremont used doors and windows salvaged from 40 years before.
Yesterday I drove to my beloved Chimayo, The Lourdes on North America. A cherished pilgrimage site and sanctuary to the Tierra Bendita, Sacred Soil, that is said to bring miraculous healing. This land is also sacred to the Tewa Indians.
I came to offer the first printing of my Oracle of Initiation deck, the divine work that has emerged on this New Mexico land, of this land, through dancing with the Holy Dirt. The Oracle deck really is devotional cards, born out of great reverence for the Earth, Ancestors, and the power of the unseen Guides and Guardians. They are dedicated to the mystery of our emerging expansion, the dream-time, the power of stepping between the veils to claim your true essence.
They are also an acknowledgment of the power of faith; of viewing your challenges and trials from a spiritual perspective. The belief that our struggles and complexities are actually the tempering process forming us into sacred vessels capable of carrying our true gifts. One of the core inspirations for the deck is the old religious cards of Mary, Jesus and the Saints. I did not grow up Catholic, but I have always been deeply drawn to the symbolism and iconography of that faith. I have died and gone to heaven living in a place where you constantly see the homemade imagery and crafts of a very earthy and sincere love for the divine.
My wish was to offer some of the images from the deck in a holy and sacrificial way to this sacred site. I was on pilgrimage to honor the incredible work that had channeled through me. As I entered the grounds from the lower parking lot, I placed 4 of the cards onto the chain-link fence adorned with rustic little twig and rope crosses. The most Mother Mary-like images chose to be represented: 36. Trust; 46. Reliance; 56. Dedication; and 64. Sanctified. I was so focused on placing the cards firmly on the fence that I had not noticed a companion nearby. The horse spirits brought me back to the land in a powerful and potent way. They are one of the main guardians of the Oracle deck, and honored guides on my earthwalk. As I was fussing with the cards I heard out of the corner of my consciousness a subtle, yet familiar whinny. I looked up to see a large, furry, four-legged equine friend. I had never seen it there before, so I brought the cards over for an inspection. They obviously needed some sacred horse markings, because the animal grabbed them in its mouth and drug two of them over the fence. I was both surprised and thrilled. I felt the offering had been accepted; slimy grass-flecked horse saliva is a great honor. I retrieved them from under the fence and continued on. Quite an auspicious beginning; thank you beloved horse being for consecrating the Oracle.
As I placed the cards on different altars throughout the property, I was amazed at how naturally they blended in with all of the rosaries, crosses and devotional candles. I had accomplished my goal of making a deck that referenced the dedication and commitment of those traditions without being tied to the dogma of those beliefs.
I carried the cards around this beautiful old church and eventually brought them into El Pocito, The Well. The Myth is that around 1810 a devout Spanish Friar saw a light emerging from one of the surrounding hillsides by the Santa Cruz River. With his bare hands he dug down into the earth and found the crucifix that graces the main altar of the church now. The local parish in Santa Cruz tried 3 times to take the cross away from its original location to their church, and three times the cross disappeared and returned to the initial hole. So they left the cross in Chimayo, building a church around this crucifix and the well of sacred soil that is said to have miraculous healing properties.
In the room adjoining El Pocito, there are crutches left as signs of the sanctified soil’s power to transform infirmities. I had always noticed the lines of baby shoes, but had never read the story of Santo Nino de Atocha. Santo Nino represents Baby Jesus as he cared for persecuted Christians in Spain. He is said to watch over prisoners, bringing them bread and water to survive. He carries a basket filled with flowers and food, and a walking stick with a water gourd attached. The baby shoes are to replace the ones he wears out during his travels supporting those in need. I was really taken with this humble notion of the servant being so active that he needs a constant supply of new footwear. Santo Nino is also one of the Catholicized version of the African deity Eshu, guardian of the crossroads.
So, back to trespassing. There was an abandoned house I had always wanted to photograph and explore, and today was the day. I decided to circumnavigate the property, seeing if there were any interesting things in the back. Bingo-the side door was open. I always ask permission before entering vacant dwellings. They are so filled with disembodied Spirits that you must be sure you will be energetically safe.
When I was traveling around the American West visiting horse people, I had an amazing trespassing experience in the old mining town of Wallace, ID. I found an old Victorian home that looked as if it had not been occupied since the 1940’s or 50’s. The peeling wallpapers and layers of paint patinas were glorious. When I went upstairs, the back bedroom was completely intact. It was so eerie, I could feel the old woman who lived there. You have to be careful about what has taken up residence in these deserted places. You are entering a sacred temple, and the lives of the past occupants are still present. It serves you to be quiet, respectful and alert.
So I asked if I was safe, and got the go-ahead. The rooms were strewn with piles of little faded boxes and cartons from the1950’s. There were also cases of the left over religious candles from the altars in the church. The boxes were all from baby shoes. Hmmmm. I continued around the back and found a really interested tableau though an open window. I was initially not going to go in, there are houses directly behind this one and I didn’t want to be yelled at. As I walked away, I realized I needed to climb in. So off I went, and my curiosity was richly rewarded. Those gentle little intuitive voices will bring you some very interesting adventures.
Part of the reason I go into these deserted places is because they are portals. They are crossroads; liminal spaces where the divine and the mundane meet; truly alternate realities. There are potent forces that gather where the heavens and earth merge, and what might you create there? New Mexico itself is one big magical multi-cultural land of enchantment and mystery. It has revealed itself to me on occasion.
As I clamored in, more graffiti, abandoned chairs, and the torn white sailcloth ceiling cover dangling from the rafters. The torn white fabric revealed a pristine wooden viga ceiling. The ceiling looked brand new. I found this juxtaposition interesting. The seafoam green adobe structure was disintegrating, graffiti tags and lewd saying were everywhere, and here was this perfectly preserved ceiling. Might the illusion of this decaying edifice be shrouding a holy shrine?
I rounded the corner into another room, and what I saw stopped me dead in my tracks.
The entire room was completely covered in hundreds of pairs of baby shoes, infants clothing and faded statues of saints. This is one of those acid-trip moments; Am I really here, did I dream this, is it real? Am I real? How in the world did these little offerings get into this abandoned building? The divine can be hidden in the most interesting places, reveling itself on its own terms.
As I surveyed the room I could not believe what I was seeing. There were boxes and baskets filled with hundreds of little time-warped children’s shoe packaging. To the left was a built-in wooden cabinet styled as if it was the most precious layette awaiting the newborn’s arrival.
A beckoning stairwell dominated the room, light streaming down from the broken out windows. I was literally astonished by this secret shrine. At the top of the stairs was a glorious statue of the grace-filled servant Santo Nino joyfully watching over this sacred space. Santo Nino, Eshu, guardians of travelers, the crossroads, they were holding court over this hallowed ground.
These are the same mysteries and devotions I am searching for by creating The Oracle of Initiation deck; myth, magical & allegory; the hidden treasures of the unknown; entering the temple of your fears and finding glowing Saints and Guardians; exploring new vistas and navigating unrecognized worlds. You will need dedication and courage to investigate your own neglected places, to open those locked doors, to decipher the unconscious graffiti of your psyche. What great beauty, joy and magic awaits if you step through the threshold into the unknown? And how will you trust that your worn out shoes will be always be reverently replaced?
And remember…only 3 more days of the amazing pricing on the 88 limited Edition Oracle of Initiation decks…only $88 bucks-wow….
This is the first in a series of posts about women photographers who have used their own bodies as the primary vessels for their artistic expression. The articles will explore what motivated these women to step beyond cultural expectations of the feminine and use self-portraiture to examine identity and relationship through the camera lens. I am very excited to share these brave and brilliant women with you as I give my respect and gratitude to them for leading the way for my own process of discovery.
Ana Mendieta- ritualistic earth artist
Ana Mendieta was born in Havana, Cuba in 1948 and at the age of 12 was sent into exile in the Unites States. This removal from her homeland became the catalyst for her work, her attempt to find a sense of belonging through merging with the natural world-“using the earth as my canvas and my soul as my tools.” [ Michael Duncan]
Her most famous works are her “Silueta” Series {silhouette in Spanish} begun in Iowa as a student. She would carve the shape of her body into the earth, using a variety of materials to highlight the form including flowers, stones, gunpowder, tree branches, and fire, leaving haunting feminine figures etched into the landscape.
An important influence on her development was the Afro-Cuban and Santeria ritualistic traditions she was exposed to as a child. The ceremonial nature of her work reveal her desire to touch something deeper, “The turning point was when I realized that my paintings were not real enough for what I wanted to convey, I wanted my images to have power, to be magic.”
She is one of my elders, one who walked before me redefining what a woman artist could explore, unraveling her own questions about self-identity, cultural belonging, and the elemental nature of our connection to the land. Interestingly, I did not consciously remember her work when I began my own Earthen Body series. I grew up in a family of artists, so I may have been exposed to her, but I did not recall them as an influence. I learned of her “Earth Body” series after I had chosen Earthen Body as title for my book. www.Earthen-Body.com
Ana’s life ended tragically at the age of 36 by falling from her NYC apartment window. Her husband, the minimalist sculptor Carl Andre was tried for her murder, but was later acquitted. Did she pay a high price for being a maverick at a time when women were just emerging into their own power? She remains a potent role model for the universal search for belonging and integration through exploring our timeless connection to the earth.
Melissa Weiss Steele's Blog 
