Trading Post Textile

When we opened Twin Rocks a little over fifteen years ago, I promptly set about learning all I could about rugs, baskets, jewelry, katsina dolls and various other Native American creations that were brought into the store on a daily basis. Although I grew up in the trading post business, I had been away from Southern Utah so long that my ability to evaluate and value Southwest art had severely atrophied.

The Navajo and Pueblo people who visited us at the post quite often transported their creations across the reservations in vehicles that made me wonder how they ever got out of the yard, let alone to Bluff. It seemed almost impossible that those dilapidated cars and trucks had actually traversed the miles and miles between our small desert oasis and such exotic places as Old Oraibi, Arizona; Acoma, New Mexico; or Monument Valley, Utah.

Duke had a running joke that he used whenever the more road weary vehicles sputtered to a stop outside our doors, clanking, squeaking and belching oily smoke. As the artists entered the store, Dad would say, "Hey, was anyone killed in that wreck?" Most often our guests just gave him a blank stare; not quite understanding his humor. After a few tense moments, we would explain the joke and have a good laugh. Once the transaction was completed, our visitors would climb back in their Reservation Rockets and pull away, leaving us to wonder whether they would actually make it home safely.

It was about that time I decided our trading post needed to be more like Ganado, Two Grey Hills, Crystal, Wide Ruins and the other historically significant posts; we needed a new type of rug that would be known as the Twin Rocks regional style. Obviously I was looking to secure my rightful place in the pantheon of legendary traders; right next to Don Lorenzo Hubbell, C. N. Cotton and J. B. Moore. I even considered referring to myself as Don Esteban or S. P. Simpson and running for territorial governor. Because I am at times a slow learner, have absolutely no artistic talent and could not identify a territory to govern, I labored at this task for several years before realizing the trading post era has passed me by; a Twin Rocks rug pattern and a spot in the trading post hall of fame was simply not in the cards.

As the saying goes, "I was much happier once I lost all hope." For the past several years I have not worried about creating a new weaving style. Then, last weekend I attended the Grand Reopening of the Edge of the Cedars Museum, where Jana's latest exhibit "Processes" was unveiled. As I sat in the museum's auditorium, listening to Clark Tenakhongva, a Hopi singer and storyteller, perform, I realized a different kind of textile had grown up around the trading post. It is completely different from what I had originally conceived, but is a weaving nonetheless. Instead of being made from wool, ours is a tapestry of people; individuals who have woven themselves into this land, its people, its history; into the very fiber of the trading post.

Aside from being a talented performer, Clark is a carver of traditional katsina dolls. He carves his culture, his stories and a big part of himself in wood and sells the finished works to galleries, trading post and collectors. He has labored many years to preserve the Hopi ways, and worries they are being rapidly lost. As I watched Clark perform his songs, I saw the beauty radiating from him that I see in this starkly captivating land, and felt he was adding to the complexity of our tapestry; weaving his songs and traditions into us as we sat listening. After his performance, we discussed various issues relating to the Hopi and Navajo people, and their existence in the desert environment. I could almost see the weaving evolve as he added his threads to the emerging masterpiece. At one point, Clark said, "It is a harsh life when you choose to live as a Hopi," and I could not help thinking that it is a challenge to live in this land no matter who you are.

The land and its people incorporate themselves into your being, become part of your warp and make you understand that you cannot live without them. Each morning as I drive home from delivering Kira to school in Blanding, I anxiously await the vista cascading south from the top of White Mesa Hill. Because we have had so much moisture this winter, the jagged, uplifted desert landscape is flooded with green, orange and lavender vegetation. The view is incongruent, and indescribably wonderful. It is the same type of unexpected beauty found in the people who wander through the trading post. At times you must peer through their difficult circumstances to find the gem within. On other occasions the treasures are very much on the surface and readily identifiable. The color and texture of our textile has nothing to do with skin pigment, instead its tones originate from inside the people who visit us, and the texture is that which has evolved over the decades of their experience. When I glimpse the fabric and have the opportunity to run my hand across its surface, I feel we have indeed created a unique and beautiful Twin Rocks textile, one I hope will continue to evolve and expand for years to come, and one I hope will be passed on to our children.

Sincerely,
Steve