Ken Seowtewa

https://www.newmexicomagazine.org/blog/post/staying-power-89339/

From article link above _ Built in 1629, it fell into ruin after Mexico’s 1820 independence from Spain. In the late 1960s, a massive renovation saved it. The late Alex Seowtewa, a tribal leader and renowned artist, then took on the task of re-creating barely remembered murals in its sanctuary. It required extensive scaffolding and years of patience to learn and then paint the details of tribal ceremonies.

“Our history is not written down,” said Ken Seowtewa, one of Alex’s sons, who joined the unpaid painting project in the 1970s. “With this work, we’re creating a living library for our people.”

He stood in the sanctuary and waited as a group of first-time visitors adjusted to the dim light. High above the weathered pews, jaw-dropping images slowly bloomed into view. Rendered in Zuni’s recognizable style—intensely populated scenes with brilliant colors and three-dimensional shading—the paintings depict two lines of dancers, including stately Shalakos and the mischievous mudheads. They act out winter dances on the north wall, summer dances on the south.

“We lost the Echo,” Seowtewa said, pointing to one of the figures. “This gentleman did not pass on his knowledge, so we lost that dance. We interviewed him to know how to paint him. Two weeks later, he died.”

Other ceremonies are likewise at risk. Some of the dancers’ prayers take days to recite. Recruiting youths to learn them in the Android era is but one preservation problem. To demonstrate yet another, Seowtewa picked up a piece of plaster that had blistered off the wall—evidence of a grievous error during the renovation. The exterior cement plaster trapped water inside the adobe structure, slowly eroding it. The murals may be the first to fall. The church is next.

Pueblo officials, no strangers to poverty, are yet debating the high cost of salvation. Some wonder whether the dancers should simply return to the earth.

Visitors can see the murals—and the patches of lost plaster— twice a day, with the Tourism Department. Sometimes, Ken Seowtewa joins them. On this day, he raised that chip of plaster before us. “This is what’s holding up our murals,” he said, before squeezing it into his palm. Sand sifted out of his fist.