Remembering as Resistance
My mother was adopted through the Indian Adoption Project, a federal program that ran from 1958 to 1967 and was designed to assimilate Native children by placing them with white families.
Framework
Arroyo Lessons
I write letters to my father, the riverbed, when I need answers that mother can’t give. Father empty stream, father arroyo, who houses the rattlesnake beneath his wind-smoothed stones. Father imminent danger, the flash flood, the whipping monsoon mud froth, father aftermath in ribbons of ruined earth.
Shards of Paper, Shreds of Glass
The descent into the depths of the Museum of International Folk Art for the Once Within a Time exhibition involves immersion in paper. Paper forms forest creatures, funeral scenes, and walls, transforming the space into a newsprint cave.
A Visit to La Cueva
Northern New Mexico is full of unexpected surprises, like a stunning vista around a bend in the highway, or a crumbling adobe building at a fork in the road. With history nestled in the valleys and tradition perched atop every mountain, the ties to this land stretch back through triumph, turmoil, and time.
Held in Warmth, Held in Motion
Energy moves through us and beyond us, slipping from form to form, never still. It stretches across steel, rises from bodies, and presses into the air. Heat is a material in its own right, sculpted by every touch and shaped by every presence.
Snow Pillow
The winter earth summons all to reflect. As birds move south, and with them their chats and songs, the cycle of hibernation and rejuvenation commences. A deep reflection on what has happened and how everything culminated in this moment commences.
![Black and white striped tubes intertwine and overlap, forming an abstract, hypnotic pattern with a sense of movement and depth. [gen-ai]](https://elpalacio.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/12/nick-fewings-FKh5ARZOODI-unsplash-400x225.jpg)
Migration Patterns
In 2001, when I first arrived at the Roswell Artist-in-Residence program, a man followed me around the Farmer’s Country Market. Had he never seen an Asian in person? Throughout the year, I blocked out the constant stares.
She, The Mountain
At a sleepover when I was seven, my friend said the mountain was a volcano that would erupt at any moment, cracking the dam and flooding Abiquiú. I stayed up most of that night panicking over my impending death.
- Photographs by Tira Howard
Who Gets to Be a Saint?
What is love? What is holy? Inside ovals of radiance, two girls holding hands, nearly matching—white tank tops and jeans, narrow sliver of sun on their cheeks, their left arms. I want to know if they are lovers, sisters, or friends.
Rebellious
¿Quien lo cura? ¿Quien lo cura? I lost all sense of identity and gained a false sense of pride; what I got left with was a bunch of… duda. My doubts became manifest, taking advantage of my insecurities.