Zuma Zuma Zuma

It’s 8:30 Sunday night and I’ve slaved over photographs from my recent trip to Navajo Country for days. And while I whined about the proceeds of 72 hours in that serenely empty land, I can see promise in the work that I damned so strongly in may last post. And considering that revelation, I need more time to properly manipulate the images. Manipulate is such a harsh word.

Yesterday, Sunday, I spent the morning at David Michael Kennedy’s studio in the village of El Rito, NM. It was at his amazing studio that I first met the master photographer and world class raconteur. The dude can tell a story. It must have been a decade ago. On that occasion we purchased a small palladium print of a Longhorn steer. It’s a treasure that's hung in a place of honor in the Immel abode. When we bought the piece, I didn’t have the cash or a check and at the time he didn’t take credit cards. I told him my sad story and he said, “No problem. Send me a check. I know where to find you.” I’m pretty sure I paid him, but you never know. You’ve heard the story.

Today I bought a photograph of Bob Dylan that David took at Dylan’s Zuma Beach home in 1985. The location, Zuma Beach, was a selling point. It’s the beach where my cohort of Art Center students spent many a weekend. No, I was not a student. I was an insurance adjuster. Zuma Beach was also the namesake of our Mexican restaurant in Boston, not to mention the name of Neil Young’s 1975 album. My Zuma period was 1961. That spread dates me in a big way since Neil Young is a 100 years old. Then again he has Daryl Hannah.

David’s photograph of Dylan is a moody piece that looks unposed, just the way like it. Why isn’t there an image included in this post? Well, because I don’t have a file with which a make a quality thumbnail. That will wait for later.

Instead, here’s what I saw on my drive back to Taos from El Rito.