It's Saturday. This morning the Railyard in Santa Fe was filled with local growers, artists and craftspeople selling the works of their hands, the sweat of their brows, the visions of their souls. There's a guy who grows and sells something like 20 different varieties of garlic. There are surely peppers appearing by now, and the air is doubtless filled with the sweet smell of roasting chilies. There are also musicians, perhaps the terrific, cross-dressing dobro player is there, a child violinist, the fellow that performs Shakespeare by himself, the gifted classical guitarist Petra Babonkova, who raised her kids and put them through school on her income as a "street musician," or the wonderful cellist, Lisa Stuart. Wish I were, too.
Lisa |
Petra |
My Santa Fe friend Jim's son Pat visited for a few months one summer with a pal of his. They put together a little act where the pal did magic while Pat played the banjo. They were mediocre, but had some good fun and made a little money.
Then there's a Native American who plays a flute whose name I can't remember, a terrific cowboy singer/songwriter Wiley Jim, an amazing accordion player Pedro Romero.
I also always intended to create a website that featured all of these people, and others, with bios and video from their street performances. I'm putting together a good collection of cobbles for my road to hell. I hope this entry will be a prelude to a project I will someday finish.
The Santa Fe Blues.
2 comments:
Oh, my. To be in Santa Fe. Sounds exactly perfect. Maybe a holiday there? Go for a week or two and come back? Or would that make it harder?
In the immortal words of the Terminator, and General MacArthur paraphrased: I fully intend to revisit this place.
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