One thing Georgia O’Keeffe fans enjoy about her work are the beautiful New Mexico landscapes – wide open vistas, close-ups of eroding cliffs, colorful and moody skies, all devoid of people. Looking out from her big picture window in her studio at Abiquiu, she sometimes said she felt the landscape was “hers.” But Tewa artist Jason Garcia (Okuu Pín) has long wondered – didn’t she forget something? Did she forget that her neighbors – Indigenous people from the half-dozen Tewa pueblos – still live there and have lived there from time immemorial?
Santa Fe’s Georgia O’Keeffe Museum invited Garcia to co-curate an exhibition to answer that question.
2025 Welcome to Tewa Country by Jason Garcia/Okuu Pín (Kha’p’o Owingeh/Santa Clara Pueblo) made with traditional ceramic techniques and natural paint – a comment on deep ancestral roots with Northern New Mexico land – not a 20th century “discovery” by a New York painter. Courtesy: the artist.
The result is a loving, provocative, look at the land, legacy, and people in one of the largest special exhibitions ever mounted by the GOK Museum – Tewa Nangeh/Tewa Country, on view through November 1, 2026.
2025 Tewa Country map showing the four sacred mountains, modern pueblos, and ancestral pueblos; created by the exhibition collaborators and museum graphic designer Kristian Breeze.
Take a look through some of the beautiful, throught-provoking, and spiritual work in our Flickr album.
Here’s a map to Tewa Country, home to just one group of Pueblo people who share the Tewa language, culture, and spiritual practices and symbols. Note that one of the four sacred Tewa mountains (indicating north, south, east, and west geographic markers for Tewa communities) is the single peak that Georgia painted over and over. She and others called it Cerro Pedernal; Tewa people call the sacred mountain Tsi’ Pin.
Stepping inside the expansive show, visitors are surrounded by spectacular O’Keeffe paintings, punctuated by contemporary works by twelve artists from six Tewa pueblos whose ancestors inhabited the Four Corners for millennia and migrated centuries ago toward the Rio Grande to build communities near Abiquiu, the historic village that Georgia called home.
Georgia O’Keeffe’s 1962-1963 painting Above the Clouds I surrounded by stone, ceramic, and earth pigment works by contemporary Tewa artists – Arlo Nahaminga (Ohkay Owingeh, Hopi), Eliza Naranjo Morse (Kha’p’o Owingeh/Santa Clara Pueblo), Marita Swazo Hinds (Tesuque Pueblo), and Martha Romero (Nambé Pueblo).
The bright space is filled with landscapes, contemporary installations, and sculptures – most utilizing clay from the very earth that both Georgia and contemporary artists trod and respected.
The museum inviteed the Tewa artists to look through Georgia’s collections and tour her Abiquiu home, and left them to create works for the show. Santa Clara’s John Garcia Sr. honors Georgia’s love of the land and sky. Randolph Silva read in Georgia’s letters her love of attending dances at the nearby pueblos, and it made him think about his own family’s travels across the Southwest performing dances at tourist locations. He discovered tourist postcards featuring his own family and decided to paint huge “postcard” paintings of dances that Georgia might have seen in the 1930s.
2025 mixed-media on board Nana’eaa Dance in Abiquiu Plaza by Randolph Silva (Kha’p’o Owingeh / Santa Clara Pueblo) – one of a postcard-style series of six Tewa Pueblo dances that O’Keeffe would have witnessed in the 1930. Courtesy: the artist.
Two 2025 acrylic paintings by John Garcia Sr. (Kha’p’o Owingeh / Santa Clara Pueblo): One Last Door and The Sentinels Have Always Been Watching, referencing the deity Morning Star, Tsi Pin (Pedernal), and other mountains. Courtesy: the artist.
After touring Georgia’s home, Tesuque’s Marita Swazo Hinds took a more personal approach, creating pieces that wonder about Georgia’s contemplative daily routines and creative processes.
2025 ceramic installation Did Georgia Pray? by Marita Swazo Hinds (Tesuque Pueblo), reflecting on the extent Georgia honored the land in her creative process as Puebloans do; pot shards, red clay pot with cornmeal, broken pieces, and Ghost Ranch rocks and earth. Courtesy: the artist.Georgia O’Keeffe’s white porcelain Urbino Teapot with 2025 Let’s Have Tea, Tea Time with Georgia by Marita Swazo Hinds (Tesuque Pueblo) – a tea set made of hand-gathered clay, and teas that the artist imagines Georgia would enjoy. Courtesy: the artist.
Several Tewa pueblos are on the Parajito Plateau, where the US government appropriated land in the 20th century to build top-secret nuclear warheads in the Manhattan Project. Michael Nahaminga’s powerful work and several others reference the threats that began when Georgia lived there in the 1940s and the legacy of environmental contamination that persists today.
2025 Disaster #8 by Michael Namingha (Ohkay Owingeh, Hopi) – an image of a pyrocumulus cloud that results from an intense fire, volcanic eruption, or nuclear explosion; silkscreened and enamel on canvas using the high-alarm color from the Air Quality Index. Courtesy: the artist.
Georgia O’Keeffe’s 1945 oil painting Pelvis Series, Red with Yellow – a replacement of her favorite blue sky with a sky color associated with the Trinity Site nuclear test. Courtesy: private collection.
Meet the artists and hear them talk about their participation in this remarkable collaboration with the GOK Museum:
Georgia O’Keeffe’s 1940 oil painting Untitled (Red and Yellow Cliffs).
Gazing into her canvases, you enter vast space. Is it the sky? Are you looking through a lagoon? Into the deep recesses of the universe? You’re surrounded by ethereal, tranquil work by an artist who spent her life observing the natural world, creating abstractions causing you to pause and contemplate. The masterful work in Emmi Whitehorse: Intimate Landscapes is on view at Santa Fe’s Wheelwright Museum of the American Indian through October 4, 2026.
This retrospective was mounted in two parts this year so that some of her recent large-scale canvases could have room to breathe in the hogan-inspired main gallery of the Wheelwright.
Whitehorse’s 2007 Fragment oil pastel, chalk, and paper on canvas. Courtesy: private collection; featured in Part 2 Line and Form.
Part 1 of the exhibition was subtitled Light and Space; Part 2 Line and Form. Works in both installations have hovering biomorphic shapes against a subtle ground that seems to undulate. Take a look in our Flickr album to see the gorgeous, atmospheric works from both installations of Emmi’s show.
Whitehorse’s 2019 Kelp Moss oil pastel, chalk, and paper on canvas. Courtesy: private collection; featured in Part 2 Line and Form.
Entering the Wheelwright, the introductory gallery features some of Emmi’s earliest work – a set of abstractions inspired by symbols of Diné culture and the color-field movement. From the start of her art training, Emmi was attracted to abstraction. Her delicate, mixed-media layers and light touches are a prequel of her mature style.
The artist’s beginnings: Three of Whitehorse’s 1980 works from her Kin Náh Zin series – collages with dyed rice paper, chalk, conte, and pencil on paper; inspired by memories of Ancestral Pueblo sites.
Nearby, a glass-topped case shows ephemera from Emmi’s earliest showings at the Wheelwright – a featured member of the Grey Canyon Artists, a ground-breaking collective initiated by Jaune Quick-to-See Smith; a set of portfolio slides from the archives; an early typewritten artist’s statement; and photos taken at the opening of her celebrated 1991 solo show exhibition.
1991 photo of Emmi Whitehorse with her grandmother and mother at the opening of her ten-year solo show at the Wheelwright.
The retrospective includes some of the impressive works from this period, on loan from private collections – hand-applied chalk and pastel on paper mounted on canvas. Right from the start, Emmi identified her ethereal abstractions as landscapes – inspired by her days as a young girl tending to her grandmother’s sheep amidst the endless vistas of the Navajo Nation, looking at horizons, skies, and the small details of the natural world at her feet. She imagined details of landscapes beyond the horizon, and held on to those images in her memory.
Whitehorse’s 1983 Landscape – East #255 oil pastel, chalk, and paper on canvas. Courtesy: private collection; featured in Part 2 Line and Form.
Early on, she sometimes incorporated symbols and slightly recognizable images into her work – such as domestic items (like her grandmother’s comb) or mysterious symbolic figures – but over the years, these types of definable shapes gave way to less recognizable abstract elements and shapes from her memory.
Whitehorse’s 1991 Untitled #883, with an abstracted depiction of her grandmother’s comb; oil pastel, chalk, and paper on canvas; featured in Part 1 Light and Space.
Symbolic landscape: Whitehorse’s 1999 Untitled #902, oil pastel, chalk, and paper on canvas; featured in Part 1 Light and Space.
The main gallery is populated by works of hazy, floating images created on paper with chalk, soft conte crayon, and pencil.
Whitehorse’s 2014 Charting a Walk-About oil pastel, chalk, and paper on canvas. Courtesy: private collection; featured in Part 2 Line and Form.
Emmi works on these images flat on a table (not an easel), so she can walk around and apply delicate layers by hand from all sides. When the work is complete, she mounts the paper on canvas – a structural support that makes for sturdier display, transport, and installation.
Whitehorse’s 1997 Witch Seed I, #1147 oil pastel, chalk, and paper on canvas; featured in Part 1 Light and Space.
The visual experience at each canvas truly feels like standing in nature, slowly observing surrounding details. Sometimes it feels as if you’re looking at the smallest details of pods and nature; sometimes it feels like you’re peering into a microscope to see the organisims populating a pond or a deep lake or ocean. Take a close-up view:
Whitehorse’s 2002 Undercurrent, #1315 oil pastel, chalk, and paper on canvas. Courtesy: the artist; featured in Part 1 Light and Space.
Video of details in Whitehorse’s 2002 Undercurrent, #1315
Her most recent works are confident and very large-scale, allowing you to get lost in the mystical expanse as you move across the work. It’s a lesson learned from the mid-century masters of American color-field painting but channeled through the mind of a quiet artist who has spent time really looking and feeling the world around her.
How does she do it? She treats the act of creation as a slow process, working on multiple pieces at a time. Large expanses populated with tiny details and memories.
Detail of Whitehorse’s 1996 Tó (Water), #1109 oil pastel, chalk, and paper on canvas; featured in Part 1 Light and Space.
Detail of Whitehorse’s 2019 Kelp Moss oil pastel, chalk, and paper on canvas. Courtesy: private collection; featured in Part 2 Line and Form.
Enjoy this visit with Emmi talking about the land and family that formed her, her life path, and how she creates in her beautiful studio. Kudos to Diné filmmaker Kelso Meyer for such an insightful portrait:
Filling the entire museum, the exhibition uses painting, sculptures, and performance sculptures to chronicle how radical performances by Native Americans shifted conversations, illuminated forgotten populations and treaties, asked difficult questions, and thoroughly influenced the trajectory of the contemporary Native American art movement.
2019 lightbox portrait Headdress – Jeneen by Dana Claxton (Lakota); the sitter bedecked in beads and embroidered gifts. Courtesy: the artist and Forge Project Collection.
Take a walk through the show (and a few performances) in our Flickr album.
In the entry, a provocative neon sign by Demian DinéYazhi (Diné) beckons, but visitors are immediately pulled into the large space surrounded by a graphic history of the historic Alcatraz occupation (1969-1971, one-of-a-kind mask wall pieces by Lloyd Kiva New (leader of brand-new The Institute of American Indian Arts 1967-1978), IAIA’s 1969 manifesto on Indian Theater, and a 1972 video of a NYC production by the Native American Theater Ensemble (running on an ancient Sony Trinitron). It’s all surrounded by a wall textile designed by Linda Lomahaftawa (Hopi/Choctaw) when she was an IAIA student in the Sixties. A provocative sculpture by Gabrielle L’Hirondelle Hill (Métis) adds the contemporary drama.
Exhibition entry: 2021 mixed media Counterblaste by Gabrielle L’Hirondelle Hill (Métis); tobacco-stuffed pantyhose rabbit-human figure; surrounded by 1969 Alcatraz occuption documentation and paintings by Lloyd Kiva New. Courtesy: Center for Curatorial Studies, Bard College; IAIA Museum of Contemporary Native Art; Art Bridges.
This sets the stage for curator Candace Hopkins’ thesis – in the 1960s, Native American performance went hand-in-hand with greater activism, self-determination by tribes, and contemporary art in all its forms. Listen to her explain:
Two performance spaces lie just beyond this gallery. First Nicholas Galanin’s gallery where his performance The White Carver happens weekly (surrounded by photos of previous performances since it was first staged in 2012). The White Carver tackles the subject of appropriation and Native cultural misunderstanding head on.
Behind the velvet rope: set for 2012-ongoing White Carver performance by Nicholas Galanin (Tlingit/Unangax) in which a Caucasian woodcarver replicates an object made by a Galinin – a commentary about appropriation and commercialization of Indigenous culture by non-Native communities. Courtesy: Gochman Family Collection.
Next, you enter a room hung with giant earring sculptures from Eric-Paul Riege (Diné), who activated them in a ritualistic performance at SITE in August. Riege’s installation allows everyone a simultaneous experience of the contemporary and cultural deep time. Kite’s floor installation, right nearby, does this, too. (Check out our previous post about Kite’s innovative IAIA show here.)
Museum goers watch Eric-Paul Riege (Diné) interact with his mixed-fiber scultptures 2020-2022 jaatloh4Ye’iitsoh (“earrings for the big god”) (August 15, 2026); oversized jewelry suggesting knowledge by listening, harmony of natural fibers, and totems of memory. Courtesy: Forge Project Collection, traditional lands of the Moh-He-Con-Nuck; Art Bridges.
Two-dimensional art on display also evokes a mix of ancient and “now.” Action painting mixed with cultural symbols. Bugle beads or painted blankets echoing color-field painting.
2014 acrylic and graphite Crow Dance by Rick Bartow (Wiyot). Courtesy: Denver Art Museum.
2022 acrylic and glass bugle bead Wopila/Lineage II by Dyani White Hawk (Sicangu Lakota) – a reference to the long tradition of Lakota abstraction. Courtesy: Gochman Family Collection.
Mash-ups of pop culture, cartoony cheesecake, ancient craft, culture, and social commentary – all the work on display incorporate aspects of performance.
1990 sculpture War Dance Technology by performance artist James Luna (Payomkowicham, Ipai, and Mexican). Courtesy: Gochman Family Collection.
2014-2022 graphite and colored pencil drawing Killer Smile by Rachel Martin (Tlingit/Tsaagweidei, Killer Whale Clan of the Yellow Cedar House Eagle Moiety). Courtesy: the artist.
The back gallery takes us back into time to consider the irony of early ethnomusic recording in the Pacific Northwest during a period when potlatches were banned and ceremonies forbidden. The exhibition has a beautiful installation of Native American LPs from the 1960s and 1970s beneath a stunning installation by Sonny Asu of copper recordings that cannot be played.
1960s-1970s LP recordings of Native American tribal songs by Indian Records; at rear, 2012 copper record installation “Ellipsis” by Sonny Asu (Ligwilda’xw Kwakwaka’wakw from the Wei Wai Kum Nation) – 138 records not intended for play. Courtesy: Forge Project Collection, traditional lands of the Moh-He-Con-Nuck.
1991 High Performance art magazine cover featuring James Luna during his AA Meeting/Art History performance.
In every room, videos display performances on stages (Jeffrey Gibson or Spiderwoman Theater) or in nature (asinnajaq (Inuk). One room is devoted to a set, props, and documentation of work by the influential performance artist James Luna, whose art did not shy away from the ever-present issue of alcoholism in Native communities.
The exhibition also includes an immersive, highly theatrical, multi-gallery installation by the New Red Order. Here’s the manifesto by NRO’s Adam and Zach Kahalil (Sault Tribe of Chippewa Indians) and Jackson Polys (Tlingit).
2023 performance documentation video of Don’t Make Me Over by Jeffrey Gibson (Mississippi Band of Choctaw and Cherokee) featuring performer Ariel Twist (Nehiyaw). Courtesy: the artist.
NRO uses satiric videos, props, murals, documents and timelines, merchandise, and graffiti style to illuminate collisions of history, pop culture, and consciousness surrounding urban Native communities today – a totally head-spinning (and brain-spinning) experience.
Video of the 2020-ongoing Progenerator installation by the New Red Order, a mixed-media installation by artists Adam and Zach Kahalil (Sault Tribe of Chippewa Indians) and Jackson Polys (Tlingit) that probes societal stereotypes alongside non-Natives’ fascination with Native culture. Courtesy: the artists.
And thanks to the recreation by Erica Lord, SITE Santa Fe visitors were able to experience Artifact Revisited. Erica recreated an acclaimed 1987 performance by James Luna – a still Native body on display within a museum, encased in glass. In Erica’s recreation, her “cabinet” was surrounded by museum signage purporting to explain “Indians” and provide context for the “exhibit.” In the age of NAGPRA, the experience was unforgettable. Watch the performance heare, and listen to Erica explains how she came to perform this historic piece and how it felt.
For more background on the connections between Native American theater, politics, and art, here’s a link to the recently published book about this never-before-told story.
Contemporary ceramicist Jody Folwell (Santa Clara Pueblo) always knew she was going to make art that was a bit different, even as she was learning traditional Pueblo pottery making at the kitchen table from her her mom, celebrated artist Rose Naranjo. Satirical, sculptural, social-political, and avant-garde ceramic statements line the gallery from start to finish in O’Powa O’Meng: The Art and Legacy of Jody Folwell, a celebratory retrospective exhibition at the New Mexico Museum of Art through September 13, 2026.
The Santa Fe stop is the final on the exhibition’s journey across the United States, which started at the Fralin Museum of Art at the University of Virginia.
2018 Ancient pot by Jody Falwell (Santa Clara Pueblo), with painting inspired by Lascaux cave painting; rim evokes fire’s importance to humanity’s art making traditions. Courtesy: private collection.
Walk through the show to see our favorites in our Flickr album.
The exhibition does not unfold chronologically, even though it features some of Jody’s (and her family’s) most ground-breaking and controversial work. At one end is Half a Step, that she credits as one of her earliest nontraditional ceramic statements, featuring a lively bison thundering around the partially polished curved surface – a “half step” away from what was expected from Santa Clara pottery at the Santa Fe Indian Market in 1975. At the other end is her collaboration with the acclaimed sculptor Bob Hazous (Chiricahua Apache) that won Best in Show in 1984. Who had ever seen a green Pueblo pot with loaded commentary?
1975 Half a Step pot by Jody Falwell (Santa Clara Pueblo) – featuring sculpted animals and an unpolished band. Courtesy: Museum of Indian Arts and Culture.
Jody’s 1984 Hero Pot collaboration with Bob Hazous (Chiricahua Apache), awarded Best in Show at that year’s Santa Fe Indian Market for its unconventional color, shape, and subject. Courtesy: private collection.
Collaborations, social commentary, sculptural details, and different painting styles encourage gallery goers to move slowly, stop, look, and circumnavigate each work to let the beauty, humor, or story sink in. Jody’s recent multi-pot ceramic installation The Cycle of Pottery is Us causes viewers to stop, think, and reflect on not only the persistence of the traditional Tewa art form, but of the entire human cycle of birth and rebirth.
Detail of Jody’s 2024 The Cycle of Pottery is Us, a sequential reference to black-and-white Ancestral Pueblo ceramic traditions, the art form’s near-loss 50 years ago, and its resurgence. Courtesy: Tia Collection.
As cultural appropriation carries a loade charge in the art world, Jody’s feels that her fascination by sinuous designs of other cultures, the cheekiness of Pop culture, and admired styles of epochs in Western art history gives her license to honor them. She incorporates Plains Indian ledger book style, Maori iconography, comic books, and even the cave paintings of Lascaux. A wide lens from her travel and studies delights visitors as she takes them on a world journey of history, art, and people.
2008 Northwest Coast Art 101 incised with a tribute to her love of fluidity of Pacific Coast design; at rear, 2006 Doh San Quah (I Stole It) painted in Plains Indian ledger style. Courtesy: private collections.
The feelilng behind the show chronicles how much the maternal ceramic making tradition means to her.
2013 Star Wars pot by daughter Susan Folwell (Santa Clara Pueblo), with images of Hopi style and cosmologies. Courtesy: Fred Jones Jr. Museum of Art at University of Oklahoma, Norman.
The exhibition includes a large traditional bread making bowl by her mother as well as work by her daughters and grandchildren – accomplished artists in their own right.
Jody titled her show O’Powa O’Meng (“I came here, I got here, I’m still going”) to demonstrate her continued commitment both to innovation in her art form and to inspire the next generation of contemporary artists.
Several pieces involve a mix of tiles (some broken) and pots with incriptions or depictions woven across all of them, such as The Buffalo Hunt that she created for the Santa Fe installation and Buffalo Soldier, a meditation on Obama’s historic presidency and the enslaved workers who originally built the White House.
Hear more about pushing the boundaries from inside a Tewa home dedicated to art making from Jody and daughter Susan as they talk about exhibition’s final stop with curator Jill Ahlberg Yohe at Santa Fe’s New Mexico Museum of Art.
Look up at the night sky and find patterns in the stars. You can do that, even though you’re standing inside the exhibition Makowa: The Worlds Above Us at Santa Fe’s Museum of Indian Arts and Culture through January 31, 2027. The wall-sized photo murals of day and night skies provide the backdrop to sculptures, pottery, and textiles with stylized images of stars, planets, the Sun, Moon, meteors, and changes of season.
Beautifully crafted objects and immersive photos provide contemplative spaces to consider the different types of skyward observations that Indigenous communities have made across millennia, and how stories and rituals convey this knowledge across generations.
Exhibition welcome: 2009 Evening Star ceramic sculpture by Kathleen Wall (Jemez Pueblo) – a Koshare holds stars important to celestial calendar.
Kathleen Wall’s charming Koshare holding up the Evening Star welcomes everyone to the journey. Take a look through our Flickr album to see some of our other favorites.
A mix of historic and contemporary art underscores the story behind star gazing. Tracking their slow movement across the night skies, sky watchers have long seen stars as important guides. The Ancients used petroglyph images as reminders of how to use ancestor stars for guidance – to tell time, mark seasons, and take journeys through vast desert landscapes.
Star patterns: 1930s tray woven by unknown Tohono O’ohdam artist.
2020 Star Child painting by George Toya (Jemez Pueblo), showing a star surrounded by ancestors in the night sky. Courtesy: private collection
Recent artworks suggest a range of the activity in the day and night sky. Phases of the Moon inform agricultural cycles. Planetary alignments, meteor showers, and also plane traffic are all part of night-sky viewing today. Rosemary Lonewolf’s tiny pot summarizes this dynamism nicely.
Distant worlds and a crowded sky: 1992 miniature Spaced Out jar by Rosemary Lonewolf (Santa Clara Pueblo).
2000-2001 sand painting by Joe Ben Jr. (Diné) linking phases of the Moon to planting cycles.
The curators show how traditional symbols of clouds, sky, and sky dynamics are learned, used, and adapted over the centuries by exhibiting modern woven regalia alongside ancestral Puebloan pots from Chacoan culture. It shows that abstract Indigenous symbols do not exist in a single place and time – they are used and reused.
Acknowledging the lively, changing sky: 1984 shirt with sky symbols woven by Evelyn Quintana (Okay Owingeh) with Ancestral Pueblo ceramics below.
The exhibition also takes a deep dive into how ancient architecture and landscapes across the Four Corners are used to mark cardinal directions, annual cycles, and astronomical phenomenon. Chaco’s magnificent kivas are featured in dramatic photo murals that show how a combination of architecture, horizon markers, and sunrise to mark the seasons.
Equinox and solstice: Duke Johnson’s 2022 photo of the Great Kiva Casa Rinconada at Chaco Canyon showing where the Sun rises against the landscape at key times of the year.
Aerial photographs show how buildings reflect astronomical alignments. Most visitors stand intrigued before an archaeoastronimical explanation of Chaco Canyon’s famous Sun Dagger, which transformed Fajada Butte into an observatory to mark the solstice and equinox.
Google Earth photos of Chaco Canyon National Historic Park. showing how structures are aligned to the cardinal directions – Pueblo Bonito and the Great Kiva at Casa Rinconada.
Visitor watches the Sun Dagger Explorer, a virtual experience of the archaeoastronomy site on Fajada Butte in Chaco Canyon. Courtesy: Advanced Computing Center for the Arts and Design at Ohio State University, The Solstice Project, and the New Mexico Museum of Natural History and Science.
Best of all, visitors themselves can explore the video interactive of another Chaco site – Rock of the Sun – to experience what it’s like to interact with petroglyphs, shadows, and the skies to mark time within the year. Nearby, there’s a copy of a petroglyph (carving into stone) that archeoastronomers suggest could depict an exploding star that was visible for 3 weeks in the year 1054.
Interactive video screen that provides visitors with a virtual experience of Rock of the Sun, an archaeoastronomy site in Chaco Canyon National Historic Park.
Other sections of the exhibition focus on the animals that serve as sky messengers – bats, eagles, and other birds – and rituals that honor the four cardinal directions.
One of the key themes here is to respect the elements – not try to control them – which is emphasized brilliantly in the final fitting tribute to these scientist farmers. Phenomenon such as rain, wind, clounds, and thunder seemed unpredictable to the Ancients, so ceremonies and dances were performed to convey desire for favorable elements. Beautifully woven cotton garments, paintings, and ritual headgear are rich in layered meanings – seasonal calendars, rain, and lightning.
The Sixties and Seventies were a time of rebellion and change in the world at large and in the New York art world. As you enter Lucy R. Lippard: Notes from the Radical Whirlwind at the Vladem Contemporary in Santa Fe through August 9, 2026, the white gallery space appears quiet, but the art that confronts you is done by artists living, creating, and collaborating in a tumultuous, exciting time.
Post-war eclecticism, minimalism, conceptualism, feminism, environmentalism, and activism – these were the movements swirling in downtown Manhattan. Writer, curator, rabble-rouser, and activist Lucy R. Lippard seemed always to be near the center it all.
Minimal and conceptual art: Sol Lewitt’s 1979 Steel Grid 3 x 3 x 3; at rear, conceptualist Douglas Huebler’s 1971 typed 44/Variable Piece #7: 1971 (In Process) Global, and Eleanor Antin’s 1971-1973 postcard piece 100 Boots Marching.
The two-floor exhibition is just a fraction of the paintings, prints, sculptures, photographs, and art books that artists gifted to Lucy across four decades. To walk through it chronicles every important trend in American (and global) art and a “who’s who” of contemporary art in the latter half of the 20th century.
Gallery featuring minimal and conceptual artists; foreground, 1971 5 Steel Track Meander by Carl Andre.
At the center of the first gallery are pieces by minimal-conceptualists Carl Andre (a twisted piece of chanelling lying on the floor that could have jumped out of a dumpster) and Sol Lewitt (a pristine grid sculpture). Nearby are super-minimalists Larry Poons and Ad Rhinehart, where you can see the hidden black-on-black squares if you peer through the glass just right.
But as the exhibition points out, Lucy didn’t just have the typical artist-curator relationship with the people whose work is on the wall. Her mentor Ad Rhinehardt asked her to pen his monograph for his ground-breaking 1966 retrospective at the Jewish Museum where is black-on-black canvases begged the question, “Is painting at an end?”
Minimalists: 1960 silkscreen by Larry Poons and 1964 screenprint Untitled (Black Square) by Ad Reinhardt.
Lucy and Carl Andre worked side-by-side in 1969 to organize the historic Art Workers’ Coalition to advocate for artists’ rights inside the art establishment. She and Sol Lewitt met at entry-level jobs at MoMA, but when Sol published his influential 1967 essay on Conceptualism in Artforum magazine, Lucy built upon his foundation with other essays and produced her acclaimed Numbers exhibitions across the country (1996 – 1972) to show conceptual and minimalist art to new audiences.
Lucy and Sol Lewitt championed the work of post-minimalist, Eva Hesse. Lucy included Eva’s work in her 1966 exhibition Eccentric Abstractionism at Fischbach Gallery, and both worked tirelessly to keep Eva’s work front and center after her untimely passing in 1970 at age 34.
The exhibition underscores the tight relationships among artists during a period of rampant experimentation, happenings, pop art, anti-war protests, and organizations protesting discrimination and advocating for justice. All forms of expression were welcomed – from performance pieces to typewritten instructions to mail art.
Post-minimalism: Eva Hesse’s 1967 ink and graphite drawing on an invisible grid.
Concepual art: Douglas Huebler’s 1971 typewritten project declaration – 44/Variable Piece #7: 1971 (In Process) Global.
Details of On Kawara’s 1968-1973 I Got Up – commercial travel postcards stamped with reductive messages and mailed to friends.
The array of feminist and political/social protest art in the exhibition reinforces the activist theme that runs through Lucy’s life. Works by Louise Bourgeois, Harmony Hammond,Ana Mendieta, Faith Ringgold, Mary Beth Edelson, and many more are shown – including the founders of A.I.R., New York’s first women-operated cooperative gallery, and the Heresies Collective, who published the first feminist art journal. Over time, their collective pressure worked, as museums and galleries finally opened up to exhibiting works by women and people of color.
Feminist power: Mary Beth Edelson’s 1972 satirical poster Some Living American Women Artists a spoof of Da Vinci’s The Last Supper with O’Keeffe and Nevelson at center stage.Performance art documentation: Ana Mendieta’s 1976 photo Silueta de Cohetes from her Siluetas eries – showing a body-shaped fireworks display agains the night sky.
The last section downstairs contains works on the Vietnam War, civil rights, Indigenous rights, the Cold War, and the risks from nuclear power. Lucy and her fellow artist were extremely active in response to injustice. In 1965-1967, they created the Angry Arts Festival through their collective, Artists and Writers Protest the Vietnam War to mobilize cultural leaders against U.S. involvement in Vietnam. In 1975, Artists Meeting for Cultural Change successfully lobbied for disenfranchised artist’s inclusion in the Whitney Biennial. In 1979, Artists Against Nuclear Madness mobilized.
Artist power: selections from the 1986 mixed-media portfolio La linea quebrada = The Broken Line – a project to promote exhibition opportunities and cultural exchange in communities across the US-Mexico border; created by Guillermo Gomez-Pena, D.Emily Hicks, Harry Polkinhorn, and Cesar Espinoza.
In 1984, Lucy and other colleagues led Artists Call Against US Intervention in Central America. Over1,100 artists and activists mobilized to create over 200 events in 27 cities. (Click here to read our 2022 post about the University of New Mexico Art Museum’s exhibition on this mobilization.)
Lucy’s philosophy: “Artists alone cannot change the world. Neither can anyone else alone. But we can choose to be part of the world that is changing.”
The second-floor gallery is dedicated to artists books – a movement that started around the same time that everything else was happening. Many artists felt the high-end art market on the East Coast was too elitist. Many artists wanted to bypass the whole thing and create affordable art.
Lucy Lippard, Sol Lewitt and others decided to open a storefront in 1976 where anyone could buy inexpensive books created by artists…books that were themselves affordable art! Although it moved from Tribeca, to Soho, and Chelsea, it’s still selling artist’s books fifty years later!
The upstairs gallery is a tribute to the decades of “affordable art” perseverance.
Environmental awareness: Kiki Smith’s 1997 accordion book The Fourth Day: The Destruction of Birds.
You can wander through imagining you are in the Printed Matter bookshop in the late 1970s, browsing through all the different projects, statements, picture books, and manifestoes flowing out of the Downtown New York art scene!
Social commentary: 1984 book Tense by Jerry Kearns and Lucy Lippard. Publisher: Kunstverein Amsterdam.
Feminist book: Avis Lang’s 1981 book Pork Roasts: 250 Feminist Cartoons. Publisher: UBC Fine Arts.
The gallery also contains some of the artist books that started it all by Ed Rucha.
Two infamous artist books: Ed Ruscha’s 1964 Various Small Fires and Bruce Naumann’s 1968 Burning Small Fires that documents his performance-art destruction of Ruscha’s earlier book. Publishers: Fluxus editions; Seth Siegelaub, The Louis Kellner Foundation.
But maybe some of the best books are those found in the back reading room – some of the 30 influential treatises written by Lucy herself, publications that document art, life, and society in our times.
Lucy Lippard’s celebrated publications on display in the second-floor reading room.
The massive exhibition is a blockbuster of abstraction – giant canvases, bold strokes, and enough dots and concentric circles to satisfy the most avid Kusama fan. But these visions don’t emanate from the 20th century’s Western modernist tradition. They’re the work of visionary artists from the Outback, whose abstractions use traditional icons as meditations on stories and landscapes that indigenous Australian people have relayed for thousands of generations.
The Stars We Do Not See is a journey like no other through the Denver Art Museum through July 26, 2026.
Detail of 2011 Gan’yu (Stars) by Gulumbu Yunupinju (Gumatj), referencing ancestral stories of the creation of stars and universe. Courtesy: National Gallery of Victoria, Canada
The winding path reveals principles of cyclical time, how the spirits of the land influence specific Indigenous cultures, and how icons of sacred landscapes and water sources are translated onto horizonless painted canvases.
Enjoy some of our favorites – full-size works and close-ups of paint details – in our Flickr album.
1980 painting Spirit Dreaming Through Napperby Country by Tim Leura and Clifford Possum Tjapaltjarri (Anmatyerre) – a recollection of ancestral homelands taken by cattle ranchers in the early 1900s. Courtesy: National Gallery of Victoria
At every turn, there are gigantic room-size works (some realized as large-group colleborations) and arrays of towering carved and painted memorial poles. Abstract symbols denote spirit beings, water, river systems, nature or animal traces. Everything is drawn from the massive collection of the National Gallery of Victoria, Canada.
Epic 1995 abstraction Anwerlarr Anganenty (Big Yam Dreaming) by Emily Kam Kngwarry (Anmatyerre), depicting a network of sacred underground roots. Courtesy: National Gallery of Victoria
The curators start and end the show with arresting contemporary works by urban Indiginous artists – a neon installation, video, a painted skateboard, and representational works referencing forced relocation and unjust assimilation policies.
2020 neon “OA Warrior I (Blue) (Azul)” and “OA Warrior I (Pink) (Rosa)” by Reko Rennie (Kamilarol) – a mix of ancestral and urban culture. Courtesy: National Gallery of Victoria2022 History Repeats by Tony Albert (Girramay/Yidinji/Kuku Yalanji)– a work made of recycled vintage commercial knicknacks featuring appropriated Aboriginal iconography. Courtesy: National Gallery of Victoria
But the majority of the show shows how traditional artists using earth pigments on eucalyptus bark prior to the 1970s gave way to community artist who used new synthetic pigments to paint first on posterboard and then on canvas.
1972 Snake and Water Dreaming by Yala Yala Gibbs Tjungurray (Pintupi) from the first Indiginous art community in Papuna, Northern Territory to establish a contemporary art center; design from ritual body painting and cave art. Courtesy: National Gallery of Victoria
Conceptual Maps: 2006 conceptual abstraction Kalaya Wati (Emu Man) by Alkawari Dawson (Pitjantjatjara). Courtesy: National Gallery of Victoria
For more about the artists and how/why they create, take a look at the exhibition guide here.
Experience the majesty, scale, and experience of this exhibition through this walk-through produced by the Denver Museum of Art. Listen for the explanation of how the exhibit received its title, too!
Don’t worry if you missed this in Denver. The Stars We Do Not See will be on view at the Portland Art Museum in Oregon from September 5, 2026 through January 3, 2027, and at the Peabody Essex Museum in Massachusetts from February 27, 2027 through June 13, 2027.
First gallery with display of eucalyptus memorial poles carved by Northern Aboriginal artists and painted with ritual designs
As a young woman, O’Keeffe learned to play the violin and piano. But she was also a talented visual artist, which made her wonder which path she would take in her education – music or art? We know which career path she chose – a modernist painter of nature, New York cityscapes, and New Mexico landscapes.
But deep in her artistic upbringing, she figured out a way to have the best of both – using music as a conduit to make abstractions that express emotion, hidden feelings, and channel pure beauty. It’s a hidden, personal dimension to O’Keeffe’s creativity that is on display at the Georgia O’Keeffe Museum’s capsure exhibition, A Circle that Nothing Can Break, on view in Santa Fe through June 7, 2026.
O’Keeffe’s 1970s watercolor Untitled (Abstraction Blue Wave and Three Red Circles). Painted after she lost her central vision with help from Belarmino López.
The title of the exhibition refers to a comment by Georgia in a 1922 letter to her husband – the influential photographer and gallerist Alfred Stieglitz – in which she said their relationship was “like a circle that nothing can break.” Looking around the small gallery, circles and arcs are everywhere – in her earliest charcoal abstractions, a circle of blue sky seen through a curved goat horn, and her late-in-life abstractions.
O’Keeffe’s 1945 pastel Goat’s Horns with Blue. Courtesy: private collection
Even some of her favorite fashion accessories feature circles! Take a look at some of our favorites in our Flickr album.
O’Keeffe’s 1915-1916 charcoal drawing Abstraction with Curve and Circle.
Personal accessories featuring the circle motif – a 1960s-1970s Italian scarf with concentric circle designs and her signature 1930s “OK” brooch from Alexander Calder.
When O’Keeffe took summer classes at the University of Virginia in 1912, her teacher Alon Bennett often played music on his Victrola during class and encouraged her to explore expressionist synergy between music and art. Around 1914, she also read Kandinsky’s influential book, Concerning the Spiritual in Art. It made quite an impression on her with quotes such as “Color is the keyboard, the eyes are the harmony, the soul is the piano…(and) the artist is the hand which plays…”
Georgia’s early charcoal works show her experimentation in using lines as “sounds” and interest in using circles in an expressionistic way. In letters to her long-time friend Anita Pollitzer, sent in 1915-1916 while she was teaching in South Carolina, Georgia said she did a “liberating series of drawings.” She explained that she often played violin for many hours to interpet her feelings, and then translated it all through her charcoal drawings.
O’Keeffe’s 1919 oil painting Green Lines and Pink.
O’Keeffe’s 1970s watercolor Abstraction Dark Green Lines with Red and Pink. Painted with the assistance of Belarmino López.
These drawings electrified her future husband, Alfred Stieglitz, who immediately mounted them for a show in his gallery and kick-started her career.
Four O’Keeffe 1970s watercolors (painted with assistance from Belarmino López) – Untitled (Abstraction Pink Curve and Circles), Untitled (Orange and Red Wave), Abstraction, and Untitled (Abstration Blue Curve and Circles).
In New York, the couple shared a love of live concert and recorded music throughout their lives together. By the time Georgia moved to New Mexico, she had assembled an extensive classical record collection. During the 1960s, when she began to lose her eyesight, listening to music from the comfort of her BARWA Lounger was a near-daily afternoon routine.
The exhibition selects paintings from throughout Georgia’s life featuring this circle motif – early oil paintings and sketches through to her late-in-life watercolors (done in her nineties with help from artist Mino López) that revisit these early themes. Note the upper arcs that suggest the top of a violin. She remembered it all.
Listen to this fascinating talk by music education professor Janet Revell Barret, who provides an in-depth explanation of how O’Keeffe’s early training and musical inclinations led her to greater expression on the page and canvas:
Demand for Gus’s intricate block-printed sun-dappled Western landscapes from the 1920s through the 1950s still runs high. So, it’s a treat to learn how Gus achieved such a high degree of technical proficiency early in his career, lived Arts and Crafts philosophy, relished immersion in art colonies, and found his family in Santa Fe.
Gus Baumann’s 1903 oil Self-portrait (Silhouette) painted in his Chicago studio; reworked in Santa Fe after 1920 with a border inspired by Mimbres pottery.
Although Gus was born in Germany in 1881, his family emigrated to Chicago when he was around ten. His father was a craftsman and woodcarver, and it left an impression. The first themed section of the exhibit – “Finding His Way”– gives a glimpse into his family background, early commercial art work, wood carving expertise, and furniture he designed later in the 1930s.
Gus Baumann’s 1919 color woodblock print Church Ranchos de Taos – one of the first modern artists to depict this iconic church; printed in 1948.
Gus Baumann’s 1921 color woodblock print Piñon Grand Canyon – one of four landscapes created after his first visit.
When he was 17 and his dad left the family, Gus had to find work to help his mom make ends meet. He worked full time at a Chicago wood-engraving shop that cut illustrations for books, magazines, and newspapers. When he was 20, Gus opened his own wood-engraving studio.
To fine tune his skill, he attended Munich’s Royal Arts and Crafts School for a year to learn from the best German color wood-block print masters – a move that chose traditional skills over academy fine-arts training. When he returned to Chicago, he opened Baumann Graphic Art Service.
Gus Baumann’s 1913 Illustration for a Calendar: The Packard Car Motor Company, August 1914 – one of four he created for Packard.
Gus Baumann’s 1908 color woodcut From My Studio Window in downtown Chicago –the high-rise McCormack Building going up on South Michigan Avenue.
Although Gus found success, his love of craft and traditional printmaking methods drew him to an art colony in Nashville, Indiana that revered traditional crafts and a slower pace of life. The second section of the exhibition – “A Rolling Stone” – highlights work he did in Munich, his acclaimed print series featuring Indiana craftsmen, coastal life in Provincetown, and the electricity he felt in New York.
Gus Baumann’s 1912 book All the Year Round – woodcut illustrations and poetry James Whitcomb Riley, featuring scenes of daily rural life for each month of the year.
But his life would change forever when he traveled West and landed in New Mexico in 1918. Due to his reputation as an award-winning printmaker, Santa Fe welcomed him with open arms. Gus was struck by the unique Hispanic and Pueblo ways of life, the beauty of the Southwest, and the growing art colony in Santa Fe.
Gus Baumann’s 1925 oil painting Frijoles Canyon – a panorama of ancient tuff dwellings of Tuyoni Pueblo at Bandelier.
Before long, Gus was making and selling gorgeous prints, traveling to archeological sites, attending dances at the pueblos, soaking up the ambience of ancient Spanish churches, and putting brush to canvas, and partying with his new artist friends. And he met Jane, the love of his life, and started a family – creating a life full of fun, art, play, and community service.
Gus Baumann’s 1924 color woodblock print Sanctuario Chimayo – learning of the historic church’s imminent sale on a sketching trip, he lobbied successfully for its preservation.
Gus Baumann’s 1921 color woodblock print Strangers from Hopiland, featuring kachinas from his collection; printed in the 1930s.
Since Jane and Ann Baumann donated so much of Gus’s work to the New Mexico Museum of Art, the curators were able to display finished prints alongside drawings and wood blocks that give visitors insight to his process. One long wall dissects his multi-color printing process for his famed Old Santa Fe – the initial drawing, the separately carved color blocks, single-color proofs, multi-color runs, and the finished six-color print.
Reproductions of Baumann’s blue, yellow, and orange woodblocks for his 1925 print Old Santa Fe.
Nearly a half-dozen example of Gus’s watercolor paintings and finished prints are displayed side by side. Visitors are delighted to stand, look, compare, and wonder how he conceptualized steps to carve blocks for each color and achieve images of such depth and vibrancy.
Gus Baumann’s 1930 watercolor Processional (Study), featuring girls walking to their First Holy Communion under a blooming tree and silver sky.
Gus Baumann’s 1930 color woodcut print Processional (printed 1951), based upon his watercolor.
It’s the first time Gus and Jane’s marionette casts have been displayed in decades, complete with hand-painted backdrops – scenes representing just a few of the couple’s scripted shows that they performed at home, in venues around Santa Fe, at world fairs, and on tour.
Gus and Jane Baumann’s stage set for the Santa Fe Puppett Wranglers’ 1932 marionette production of the comic melodrama The Golden Dragon Mine –starring The Tourist Lady, Temperence the Miner, Hardpan, Burro, Old Man of the Mountain, the Green Dragon, Nambé Nell, Coco the Horse, Pecos Bill, and Lord Leffinghoop.
Whimsey, delight, innovation, social commentary, and fun are all there, with surprises unfolding around every corner. And this is all just a fraction of Gus’s creative output from his coming-of-age in the horse-and-buggy era to the Atomic Age.
Gus Baumann’s 1940 marionette comedy stars of Teatro Duende – Long Nose (“Nosey”), the Duendi and Freckles the Duende – mischief-making Iberian elves.
No, he didn’t follow the traditional academic path, but he did leave his creative touch on America’s printmaking traditions, the foundation of many Santa Fe cultural and historical institutions, and the care and feeding of a state full of artists as head of New Mexico’s New Deal artist programs.
Gus Baumann’s 1932 carved family portrait – marionettes Gus, Jane, and Ann – with costumes by Jane.
It’s quite a leap from taking an art appreciation class with your daughter in your mid-thirties to assembling an enormous collection of paintings by radical art-world revolutionaries and anarchists. But that’s what one woman did and and the work is on display in Radical Harmony: Helene Kröller-Müller’s Neo-Impressionists, on view at the National Gallery in London through February 8, 2026.
Crowds have been flocking to see incredible works by Seurat, Signac, and Van Gogh, and meet the Dutch and Belgian painters who adopted their breakthroughs and ran with these innovations for two decades at the end of the 19th century.
Seurat’s 1884-1885 Young Woman: Study for ‘A Sunday on Le Grande Jatte’” – a radical abstracted, dematerialized image. Courtesy: Kröller-Müller Museum
Maginificent, much-loved works were collected in the early 20th century by Helene Kröller-Müller, the daughter of a wealthy German industrialist. Her husband ran businesses for her father (and eventually his entire company) in Rotterdam, where they lived.
Helene was always encouraged to follow her intellectual interests, and new ideas. After taking a class about art in 1905 from Dutch artist/dealer/critic H.P. Bremmer, Helene began to understand why the radical colors, compositions, and subjects in paintings by Van Gogh, Seurat, and others moved her so deeply. Working with Bremmer as an advisor, Helene eventually amassed the largest collection of Van Gogh paintings and drawings in the world (outside of the Van Gogh Museum itself).
Van Gogh’s 1888 oil The Sower with the Sun rising hopefully over a rural worker. Courtesy: Kröller-Müller Museum
Helene sometimes accompanied Bremmer on buying trips with the goal of creating a public collection where people could see and experience the genesis of modern art. In 1912, they even visited Signac in his studio, where Helene purchases two magnificent tranquil harbor views – one by Signac and one by his late friend, Seurat.
One of Helene’s first “new art” purchases on a buying trip to Paris: Signac’s 1887 oil pof the French Riviera capturing the Sun’s reflected light – Collioure, The Bell Tower, Opus 164. Courtesy: Kröller-Müller Museum
Here’s a brief video about Helene Kröller-Müller’s passion for art, how she built her massive collection, and the beautiful museum in the Netherlands countryside that should be on every art lover’s bucket list :
This gorgeous exhibition in central London shines a light on this visionary collector, but the focus is less on Helene’s history and fully on her stellar collection of Neo-impressionist painting and related works from the National Gallery and other collections. See some of our favorites in our Flickr album.
The exhibition begins with paintings by Seurat and Signac, who adopted color theory for their pointillist techniques to create shimmering images of simplified, tranquil harbors and seascapes. This new radical painting approach electrified artists across Europe, such as Belgian painter Theo van Rysselberghe and Dutch artist Jan van Toroop, whose works are also hung in the first gallery.
Van Rysselberghe’s 1889 oil inspired by Seurat ‘Per-Kiridy’ at High Tide. Courtesy: Kröller-Müller Museum
At a time when industrialization was transforming life, Helene did not shy away from acquiring works made by artists proud of their radical, progressive politics. Many of the artists featured in the exhibition were proud to call themselves anarchists – passionate radicals who used art to advocate for workers’ rights, elevate the image of working people, and create a hope of increasing harmony with nature.
Maximilien Luce’s 1899 The Iron Foundry showing strength and integrity of Belgian steel workers amid dangerous conditions – an acquisition that hung in the office of Helene’s industrialist husband. Courtesy: Kröller-Müller Museum
To create the pictoral harmony that they sought, these painters often stripped details out of landscapes. When people are present, they are depicted with highly simplified, streamlined faces – pleasing, but impersonal. These stand in contrast to paintings by Belgian and Dutch painters who applied their new color techniques to beautiful large portraits of their politically progressive friends and patrons.
Seurat’s 1889-1890 grand Chahut – a stylized manifesto of his painting philosophy; features artificial, compressed, stylized figures and space. Courtesy: Kröller-Müller Museum
The centerpiece of the show is Seurat’s enormous painting of the scandalous can-can dance at a raucous late-night Paris venue. It’s the biggest, baddest, Neo-Impressionist work in Helene’s collection. The curators surrounded it with works showing how much other radical painters enjoyed music and nightlife.
But just beyond this gallery, you’re surrounded by still, quiet domestic interiors and sun-dappled garden scenes in a gallery titled “The Silent Picture.” People are introspective, lost in thought, or lost in a book. Helene loved collecting large-scale works that seem to envelope viewers with stillness and calm.
And she truly loved the serene, nearly empty landscapes that this group of painters created. The long horizon of the sea only adds to these works’ peaceful presence. Helene wanted her museum to have clean lines, and unadorned galleries so that visitors could stand, contemplate, and find peace with these works. She truly felt these new, modern paintings had the ability to provide respite and even feel something spiritual.
Johann Aarts’s 1895 oil Landscape with Dunes – a tranquil, simplified view of an urban seaside town, indicated by faint buildings on the horizon. Courtesy: Kröller-Müller Museum
Signac’s 1890 Saint-Briac, The Beacons, Opus 120 – the most radical of his four views of the River Fémur along the Breton coast. Courtesy: private collection
Take a walk through this incredible show with the curators from the National Gallery, and hear how Seurat, Signac, and their contemporaries broke the rules and made history:
