It was not until much later in my adult life that I realized how unusual was the place I grew up. Neither did it occur to me that I was a minority in my junior high school class, nor that it was unusual to wake in the January dawn and drive 30 minutes to witness the animal dance at San Ildefonso Pueblo. I didn’t give a second thought to standing in the dark and cold of a December night to participate in the reenactment of Mary & Joseph looking for a place to rest. Of course, they ultimately found shelter in the warmth of village church in that small Northern New Mexico village, where once settled, Mary, Joseph, and we–the entire participating community—shared a meal inside the church.
The experience I had living amidst three distinct cultures instilled in me a passion for understanding the manner in which a people express their cultural identity–be it architecture, ceremony, dress, art, utilitarian objects, and more. With such embedded in my being, I struggled as a young adult to find a “meaningful” career, one that somehow gave voice to this passion.
One day standing inside the New Mexico Museum of Art, looking at the woodcuts of Gustave Baumann, it occurred to me there were four museums in my hometown–each with a story to tell.
One day standing inside the New Mexico Museum of Art, looking at the woodcuts of Gustave Baumann, it occurred to me there were four museums in my hometown museums – each with a story to tell.
Pamela Kelly, M.A., M.B.A.
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