My Far West
THE DOCUMENTARY “Far West – The Hidden History,” co-directed by Mathilde Damoisel and Tomas van Houtryve, premiered at the TCA Saturday (March 26). It was movingly beautiful and chock full of revelations that contradict cherished assumptions about Taos and the southwest. There are truths that can only be told in the voice of art, and when they are well told and the art is good, it changes people.
Tomas signed many copies of his marvelous book, “Lines and Lineage,” (Radius Books), and TCA staff reported an incredible, positive reception from attendees, who were affected by the meaningful experience and wanted to talk about the film and with each other after the screening.
Colette LaBouff, outgoing TCA director, said: “This is exactly what I hoped to have done (as I leave!) as director of an arts organization. I’m thrilled TCA could bring art, photography, history and conversation to an audience for whom the content is crucial. Who am I talking about when I say audience? I’m talking about the descendants depicted in the film. I’m talking about people who just got here. People who know this history. And people who don’t. If screening the film and offering space for conversation widens knowledge and educatse, then more of this; that’s what’s needed in Taos.”
I was not surprised at the sheer visual richness of the documentary, or its clarity and historical authenticity. Tomas is a history buff, and sees through the lens of his European experience — a refreshing and illuminating perspective. Besides, he is a gifted and internationally-recognized photographer whose most recent assignment was to photograph the restoration of Notre Dame for National Geographic.
Mathilde has 12 years of experience in film, besides being a noted investigative reporter. The history of my people is not sound-bite material, or a blackand-white story for short attention spans. The intelligence of her hand is visible in the clarity of a complicated narrative.
“Far West” compresses a lot into a story that connects a hidden past with vivid portraits of that past’s living descendants. The audience witnesses how the denied and suppressed history of the west drives and shapes our present. (I can’t resist pointing out how the same pattern applies to the personal psyche — the shadow, the denied part of the psyche loses its negative power when it is accepted. In fact, acceptance transforms shadows into sources of creative energy. But repressed truths, like unhealed wounds, fester for generations.) Afterwards, Tomas, Simon Romero from The New York Times, Gomeo Bobelu from Zuni Pueblo and myself held an on-stage conversation moderated by David Silva, TCA staff. A quote from the promotional material says it best: “Photographer Tomas van Houtryve confronts America’s collective amnesia and reveals the hidden legacy of the Far West. At a time when the U.S. has reinforced a wall that isolates it from Latin America, the photographer retraces another border, the one that existed before 1848, when the U.S. military invaded and occupied the northern Mexican territories that are known today as the states of Texas, California, Colorado, Utah, Arizona and New Mexico. He meets and photographs the descendants of families that have lived in these lands since long before the American conquest: indigenous, black and mestizo families that never crossed the border — the border crossed them. Rendered strangers in their own land, they push back on the founding myths of the American Frontier and contribute their own overlooked stories to our common history.”
Meanwhile, beyond the edges of Taos Valley, the collective amnesia of America is crumbling despite — or perhaps because of — desperate attempts to hide the truth about our past, while acting-out the same pattern. To use the example of psychology again, until traumatic experiences are named and processed, they are compulsively repeated. And this film exposes the fact that, along with all non-white people, the majority of Taos County citizens, mi plebe — the generational cultures — have been erased from history.
Our story has been replaced by a false narrative. One that has been repeated so often that everyone believes it. This — lie — is inadvertently, unconsciously, but constantly, perpetrated by national and local media. It has become our reality, taken-for-granted, “just the way things are.” Or I should say — was — because 250 people who saw this documentary can never un-know the truth.
It must be said, not only the TCA, but local museums and galleries generally see overwhelmingly — even exclusively — Anglo attendance. The non-participation, non-representation of, and lack of support by Hispanic and Native people in the local art scene in Taos is a longstanding given. But TCA staff observed a 50-50 crowd this time, a departure from the past.
Chealsea Reidy, new director of TCA, said, “We know art can be powerful; when it gets all kinds of people together, some who see themselves reflected, some who are challenged, some who want to learn, some who are just curious, this is when an arts organization is doing its job well. This is an example of a film directly relevant to our community and the Northern New Mexico region. I’ll say it again: more of this.”
In the series of articles entitled, “How My Raza Became Invisible,” published in Tempo, I examine in depth how this erasure happened. As you will see, if you watch the documentary or read the articles, erasing a people from history is an act of violence with serious, long-standing consequences. An “invisible” population, for instance, is left out when funds are distributed, our urgent needs are ignored, our artists are not understood and our contributions are appropriated with impunity — for how can you credit a people you don’t even know exists?
The most positive and creative outcome of assimilating this would be to talk about it. Invite groups of friends, suggest the boards of local arts organizations begin asking themselves — how can we, as a community, harvest the energy in our historical shadow?
How can we heal without the truth?