Mr. Write's Page

Sandpainting is the art of creating intricate designs and pictures on a horizontal surface using colored sand.

In various forms, sandpainting has been practiced around the world for centuries. It is still in use today by Tibetan monks, Australian Aborigines, and the Navajo and other Native Americans.

Sandpainting the Navajo way.

By nature, a sandpainting is temporary. It’s usually done ritually as part of a religious or healing ceremony.

Last month in Santa Fe, I encountered a different kind of sandpainter: an anglo artist using a special form of sandpainting to draw attention to a cause.

Santa Fe, New Mexico, has a thing for museums. By my count, there are 23 in town, some public and some private.

Four of the most popular are located at Museum Hill, a picturesque spot in a wooded area not far from downtown. Museum Hill is home to the Museum of Indian Arts and Culture, the Wheelwright Museum of the American Indian, the Museum of Spanish Colonial Art, and the Museum of International Folk Art.

The first and last of those four face each other across Milner Plaza, an attractive spot that invites you to sit and take a break from all of that history and culture.

I visited Museum Hill on a Sunday, and, as I have a habit of doing, I arrived early, before anything opened. After taking photos of buildings and statues for a while, I sat down to review some of my shots.

Every few minutes, a museum employee would arrive for work, slip inside, and close the door. An occasional runner came into view and out again. Several souls like me were scattered around the plaza.

One of them, a tall, lean young man, was walking toward the center of the plaza carrying an armload of something — strips of wood, it seemed. He dumped the stack of whatever it was onto the bricks and went back for another load.

Not far away, on the grass at the edge of the plaza, three people were setting up a display booth. The banner across the top said “New Mexico Wilderness Alliance.” The young man seemed to be part of that group.

On his next trip to the center of the plaza, the young man brought a small crate that contained a dozen plastic catsup dispensers.

He set down the crate, picked up a stack of his wooden somethings, and began to arrange them in a large circle on the ground. Curiosity was killing me, so I approached the circle.

The dispensers held colored sand of various pastel shades. The wood strips were stencils.

I moved closer so I could read the lettering.

RAZORBACK SUCKER

GRAY WOLF

GILA TROUT

WESTERN RIBBONSNAKE

MOUNTAIN TOAD

By then, I was practically reading over the guy’s shoulder, and he looked up.

Before I could ask, he said, “These are the names of New Mexico’s 112 endangered species.”

He extended his hand. We introduced ourselves, and I listened to his story.

His name was Daniel Richmond, a sculptor and art teacher from Albuquerque. He had come to Milner Plaza to create a project he called, “112 Endangered Names Embossed in Dirt.”

Daniel’s tools were the wooden stencils and colored sand. While he did the creating, members of the New Mexico Wilderness Alliance backed him up with information, refreshments, games, and face-painting for passers-by.

For the next couple of hours, Daniel would arrange the stencils in circles on the plaza and fill the letters with sand, removing each stencil in turn to reveal the name.

As Daniel well knew, wind and foot traffic would soon obliterate his work. He knew, because he has created this project many times around New Mexico in recent years.

As he explained, the fragile nature of the work is intentional. It dramatized the urgent need for action to prevent the 112 species from disappearing.

Daniel did his work effortlessly. When he removed a stencil, the words stood out crisply on the plaza bricks.

“Now it’s your turn,” he said, handing me a catsup dispenser.

I must have looked surprised. “Please — go ahead,” he said. “I want people to participate.”

I got down on all fours in front of the nearest stencil, GREENTHROAT DARTER. I wondered whether it’s a bird or a fish.

“Just… pour?” I asked.

“Pour slowly,” he told me. “You’ll get the hang of it.”

Haltingly, I added sand to GREENTHROAT DARTER. It wasn’t as easy as Daniel made it look.

I finished applying the sand and carefully lifted away the stencil. The effort was terrible. I had applied far too much sand. The letters ran together.

“Crap,” I muttered.

“No, that was a good first effort,” he said. “And you’re now officially part of the project. Try another one.”

My second attempt was better. My third was better still.

Other curious tourists began to arrive, and Daniel turned his attention to them. I continued to stencil names until my knees were sore.

At length, I reckoned it was time to go see some museums. I got up, waved to Daniel, and limped off toward the Folk Art Museum.

Of the four museums at Museum Hill, the Folk Art Museum was my least favorite. That’s not a common opinion. Most visitors rate it as the best in town. Go figure.

But I give the Folk Art people credit in one important area: they allow photography inside. None of the other museums do.

When I asked about the photo policy, I was told that their new curator had changed the policy. She thought barring photography was pointless and dumb. Good for you, lady.

Better still, she did not remove the signs that say NO PHOTOGRAPHY PERMITTED. She left them up, but had the NOs crossed out with big red Xs.

Later, as I crossed the plaza on my way to the Museum of Indian Arts and Culture, Daniel was still at work. He said the project always drags out because of constant interruptions by passing tourists. Which is a positive thing.

Maybe — just maybe — Daniel’s work is having an impact. In 2011, he identifies 112 endangered species in the State of New Mexico.

Five years ago, the number was 118.

By the way, the greenthroat darter is a fish.

An 18-foot-tall bronze statue of an Apache mountain-spirit dancer stands guard over Milner Plaza.

Elsewhere on the plaza, Daniel readies his stencils.

He arranges the stencils in circles...

... and deftly applies the colored sand.

My first attempt -- an embarrassing GREENTHROAT DARTER.

But I got better with practice.