photo by Dorie Hagler

“To paint and to pray are the same thing.”          ~ Balthus

I met with William Hart McNichols, better known in Taos as Father Bill, on a gray Thursday morning  in his parish office at the San Francisco De Asis Church. We both arrived feeling sleepy from the heavy weather and drank hot coffee with sugar and powdered creamer while sunken in worn reclining chairs, surrounded by shelves of books, and images of saints hanging on the wooden plank walls. Like an apothecary searching his jars for the most potent remedies, Father Bill scanned the books, handed me one, and then another and yet another until I had a pile in my lap that consisted of biographies of feminist Edith Stein and poet Gerard Hopkins, translations of the works of Saint Teresa and Saint Gemma, cards of his own paintings of martyrs ranging from Polish solidarity leader Father Jerry Popieluszko to Austrian conscientious objector Frank Jagerstatter, and my very favorite; a collection of his iconography written by John Dear entitled You Will Be My Witnesses. Two and a half hours had passed and my tape recorder had long since clicked off before I reluctantly became aware of the passing time, and Father Bill walked me through the rain back to my car.

Father Bill has a low and soothing voice. With a tall, lanky frame and the bone structure of a model, he looks deceptively younger than his nearly sixty years. He is an academic, having studied art, philosophy, and theology at St. Louis University, Boston College, Boston University, and the Weston School of Theology in Cambridge.  He also studied at the California College of Arts and Crafts in Oakland and received a Master of Fine Arts in Landscape Painting from Pratt Institute in Brooklyn. He became a Jesuit at the tender age of nineteen. In spite of his intellectual nature and his captivating speaking style, he communicates most clearly and movingly through his stunning Byzantine style iconography. (www.fatherbill.org)

“Icons change you from within because they are a prayer,” said Father Bill. “They will at times create an atmosphere inside you to receive something new from God.  They will plough the field, or get ready the ground… What you gaze at, you become.”

Father Bill came New Mexico to study iconography under the tutelage of Russian American master Robert Lentz, in 1990.  Like Lentz, Father Bill has endured criticism for painting images of uncanonized modern humanitarians, such as Princess Diana. “She was clearly a light,” he told me.

“I’ve had so many identities put on me, but the thing is I am many shades of gray…  I’m not an activist and I don’t think of myself as liberal or conservative. I’m always trying to balance.  I’m always looking for what’s missing…  I feel the spirit moving, and I want move with the spirit.”

He bemoans the Puritanical nature of American society. “The word liberal has been caged and closed and made negative. It’s like Fahrenheit 451. Part of Puritanism was destroying people by outing them.  It was a mob rules kind of mentality and it continues on in America… One of the reasons I ended up here in Taos is that it’s not Puritan here.”

Father Bill remained a Jesuit until shortly after he revealed his sexual orientation to Time magazine, in 2002. “It felt like a divorce,” he told me quietly of the dissolution of his thirty-four year “home” with the Jesuits.  Poignanty, perhaps, he feels the experience has made him a better priest. Because of his own experiences of being ostracized and of facing prejudice, he feels he can “extend a wing” to others who face discrimination.

Growing up in Denver, the son of Governor of Colorado Stephen McNichols and Marjorie Hart, Father Bill became accustomed to the notion of living in the public eye. “I never allow myself to be built up. I understand the rise and fall trajectory from politics. If I were to get up on a pedestal, I couldn’t do my work. I learned that from my dad.” He credits his mother, who had “a light inside of her,” with giving him both a strong sense of self and of domestic life.

He defines one of the highlights of his life as presenting Pope John Paul II, at World Youth Day in Denver, with his icon Our New Lady of Advent, now a permanent part of the Vatican Museum’s collection. “He had an aura!  He was accepting of me as a being…  I grew up in a political life and when you know that kind of life you can relate to those people who are trapped in it.”

Father Bill first came to the San Francisco de Asis parish in Ranchos in 1999 when he was commissioned to do a painting of Saint Francis for the famed church by Father Tim Martinez. “Taos is raw and unromantic – a harsh, not gentle, place. If you’re a romantic, you soon get slapped out of it here.  At the same time, Taos is really spiritual.” He realized he could better focus on his own art work in Taos than in New York.

While living in New York, Father Bill worked as an Aids chaplain, alongside Fr. Mychal Judges, the beloved New York City Firefighter chaplain killed at Ground Zero on 9/11.  Father Bill captured Mychal’s spirit in his image entitled Holy Passion Bearer Michael Judges. In the painting, Mychal holds out a veil above the burning towers, as if to envelop and protect all the victims. Father Bill described a “passion bearer” as one who “empties oneself of vengeance, purposefully choosing solidarity with the unprotected, the victims of injustice… the outcast.”  During his time in New York, he also illustrated over twenty children’s books.

“When I was five years old, my brother used to ask me ‘Are you still in your room coloring?’”He smiled at the recollection. “I’m still in my room coloring.”

photo by Dorie Hagler

“Mid spring and everything knows it. Nest making, photosynthesizing, rush and tumble of green, even the light takes on that grassy hue. The earth gone soft and its odor’s indiscreet, cow shit and cottonwoods…
Cloud puff-in the pale blue and over the ridge a howl short of melody, like pain that can’t find words and comes out moan.
Up to my elbows in the smear of it.” ~ Summer Wood, Arroyo

Summer Wood looks like her name. A pixie, a faerie, a woodland sprite; she is a fine boned, ethereal looking creature. If translucent wings were to sprout from her back and she were to fly away, twinkling, at dusk, it would not seem entirely surprising. Paradoxically, her body language conjures images of a gangly and shy high school basketball player. Like the northern New Mexico spring she describes in her critically acclaimed novel Arroyo, Summer Wood is earthy, complicated, fiercely bright, magical, and entirely, unquestionably real.

Writer, teacher, mentor, and parent of three sons on the cusp of adulthood, Summer is also a licensed general contractor. Building houses trained her to “think three dimensionally, to look at the architecture of a story and to be able to see a story as a shaped thing.” “It taught me how to spend a lot of time making something,” she told me over coffee at Loka. “It takes time to write a novel. It takes time to build a house. And both take some audacity.”

“Being a builder fits into the hunter gatherer life of a writer. You do a project and then have some time off. You have a lot of flexibility to arrange your own time. And it’s a great counter balance to the sitting at a desk thing you do as a writer. It puts you out into the world and introduces you to so many stories you would never have a chance to hear otherwise.”

And hear them them, she does, with a pitch perfect sense. According to Summer, “Your ear is the most important part of writing.” In a post on her blog thewhereofit.com, which is devoted to readers and writers who “care about place,” Summer pays tribute to her idol Grace Paley: “Her ear was exquisitely tuned to the nuances of the heart as expressed in the music of our language, and her success at it capturing both takes my breath away.” When the late Paley’s daughter happened upon Summer’s post , she invited Summer to initiate a reading of Paley’s works in an effort to “help keep her words in the air.” Summer credits Paley with being one of the premiere writing stylists of the twentieth century. “Her work showed me that there were no rules, other than to listen to people.”

Summer’s writing has been described by author John Nichols as “full of sweet weather and tender mercies.” While her novel Arroyo was set in a tangibly familiar New Mexican mining town, her upcoming novel Wrecker takes place in San Francisco and Humboldt County, California.

“It is critical for me to place my writing somewhere,” Summer told me. “I think there is such a connection between who we are and where we’re from and where we live and the stories that inform that relationship. I’ve always been interested in place and land, both rural and urban. Writers pee on things. You mark your territory.” Summer will teach two classes entitled “The Where of It” as part of the 2009 Taos Writer’s Conference (unm.edu/~taosconf/) during July.

Summer has also been involved in applying for a community reading program sponsored by the National Endowment for The Arts entitled “The Big Read.” Taos Public Library and SOMOS have teamed up to apply for this grant funded program in the hopes of adopting Rudolfo Anaya’s novel Bless Me, Ultima, a coming-of-age story set in the 1940′s on the eastern plains of New Mexico, as the focal point for a month long celebration of reading in Taos during November of 2009. Additionally, Summer, who has participated in the SOMOS Young Writers Mentorship Program for years, is currently mentoring an eighth grade student at Country Day School who is in the midst of writing her own novel.

Throughout Summer’s work, themes of metamorphosis, and of love choosing us in unexpected ways reappear in different forms. Her sensitivity to her often adrift characters, as well as her empathy for their predicaments and personal struggles allow her readers to experience their transformations. During our conversation, Summer defined a hero as “someone who didn’t expect to do what they have been faced with and yet have risen to the challenge day after day, with nothing personal to gain – and yet who then gains everything through it.” She referred to a Fred Hughes adaptation of the works of the Roman poet, Ovid, whose writing she describes as astonishing, bawdy, ribald and erotic. According to Hughe’s translation in Tales from Ovid, Ovid wrote, “It is no crime to lose your way in a dark wood.”

“Isn’t that beautiful?” Summer asked me. “Ovid understood that, he got that, and was able to distill so much experience into his gorgeous poetry. Not to say that we’re not responsible for our choices, but it’s just that really, it is no crime to lose your way in a dark wood.”

Dave Hahn, photo by Dorie Hagler

When I first e-mailed my friend Dave Hahn about getting together for this column, I received the following message in my in-box:

Howdy. This is an automatic reply. I’m on a ship in Antarctic waters
until Feb 6th and will be unable to check e-mail until that time.
Best Regards,
Dave

When I showed the e-mail to my husband, he said with a starry eyed look, “God, he’s cool.”

Dave Hahn has summited Everest ten times, more than any other non-Sherpa in history. He has guided 250 ascents of Mount Rainier and has summited Denali eighteen times over the course of 25 expeditions. He holds the world record of 25 summits of Antarctica’s highest peak, Vinson Massif. He has managed to help save quite a few lives along the way in a number of celebrated high altitude rescues. He also works on the ski patrol at Taos Ski Valley and is a certified EMT. As if all that weren’t enough, he is a gifted writer who has skillfully detailed these experiences in his contributions to climbing books, climbing web sites, and Outside Magazine. Part modern day explorer, part Everest legend, part super hero, and all around nice guy, Dave is easy to admire.

I was recently introduced to the theory that Star Wars provides the ultimate paradigm for compelling character archetypes, ones that can be found throughout religions and mythology. When I mentioned this Star Wars archetype idea to Dave, he said, without blinking but with a warm twinkle in his eyes, “I’m Han Solo.”

I thought back to about one decade ago, when Dave began his annual visits to my Taos Middle School classroom to share slide shows of his adventures with my students. In the throes of a seven period day with sixth, seventh and eighth grade kids, I’m not sure I ever fully appreciated the renown of our esteemed guest. What I absolutely did recognize was how friendly, gracious, funny, and at ease Dave was with the students, characteristically humble and somehow self-deprecating while describing such extraordinary moments as his team’s discovery of the body of historic British mountaineer George Leigh Mallory on the wind swept north face of Everest in 1999. Dave signed our classroom copy of Ghosts of Everest, The Search for Mallory and Irvine with the inscription, “For a class of kids who are true class. Thanks for keeping track of us.”

The thought of Dave as gun slinging rogue Hans Solo simply didn’t fit for me. Then again, after my most recent conversation with Dave, Star Wars creator George Lucas’ characterization of Han Solo as “a loner who realizes the importance of being part of a group and helping the group” sure did.

Dave describes his greatest achievement as “ making it in an unconventional career. I’m proud of that,” he told me on a bright March morning over coffee at Taos Cow.

When I asked him how he feels about his record ten ascents of Everest “for a non-Sherpa”, he was quick to point out that Apa Sherpa, a Nepalese Sherpa mountain climber who currently lives in Salt Lake City, has summited Everest eighteen times, and noted that it’s a mixed blessing being celebrated for this record.

“Part of me hates the idea that this is an ethnically qualified record. And part of me really likes the attention. I think people minimize Sherpa accomplishments. They think Sherpas are born with three lungs and two hearts and that it’s somehow easier for them to do this. For me, the humbling thing is to realize that climbing high is just as hard for them. They do it better because their work ethic is superior to ours. They’ve earned it. And at the same time, I’m happy to be recognized for my accomplishments.”

While cognizant of the fact that mountain climbing has traditionally been regarded an exclusive or even elitist endeavor, Dave says he finds pleasure in teaching “ordinary” people how to climb mountains. In fact most of his summits have remarkably been achieved with clients in tow. He attributes his well-earned reputation for safety to patience, and to a willingness to accept the possibility of not reaching the summit even when excruciatingly close.

As for his celebrity in the climbing world, Dave said, “I don’t hang out at film festivals. I hang out on Highline Ride or at Everest Base Camp. I don’t make the choice to take advantage of this notoriety. There’s no benefit to going down that road… My job involves standing on cornices. I’m not doing this as a way to find another job. ”

Retaining his humility comes easily, according to Dave. “It’s pounded into me by the mountains and by the people I work with – the things that test me,” he said.“ When I work at Taos Ski Valley on the patrol, whether or not other people think I’m famous doesn’t help me if I’m not up to the job on a given day. There are guys on my patrol who are much more capable than I am. I need that. I need to continually test myself and I get the satisfaction that comes with being able to help. I don’t need to ask someone if I did a good job. I can feel it.”

Dave is a self-described “sucker” for supreme athletes like Michael Phelps and Tiger Woods. “I can’t believe people can be that good, that focused, that talented with the whole world watching. I’m fascinated by that idea of perfection. Time after time they do the right thing when the pressure’s on.”

When talking to Dave, it becomes quickly apparent that he hovers somewhere near denial when it comes to his own talent, perfectionism, and work ethic. “I wish I were more disciplined about getting work done,” he told me, repeatedly. He is quite self critical in general, particularly about what he refers to as his “disorganization.” “The work I’ve ended up doing forces me to have my act together and to have my bags packed.”

In spite of his engaging writing style, punctuated by his dry wit and insightful nature, it is “increasingly less likely” that Dave will write an autobiography. “There are so many climbing books out there that I don’t want to read, and I’d hate to have one on the shelf next to those that no one else wants to read. Right now it would be a vanity project. I’m not going to do it just to have my name in print or my thoughts preserved. Other than writing e-mails and daily logs for the companies I work for, I don’t have the discipline to write every day whether I feel like it or not. At this point, something has to just about reach out and kill me for me to write about it – and you can only write about that kind of thing so much before you’re dead.”

The youngest of three children, Dave graduated from SUNY Buffalo, where he competed on the swim team, in 1984. His father was a Yosemite rock climber in the 1940′s and ’50′s. “My dad has confidence in me. He knows that I take chances but that I don’t take them stupidly.” His mother grew up in Albuquerque, and his parents met at the Fort Bliss army post. When I asked Dave if his mother worries about him, he told me that his mother died of cancer when he was ten years old.

“My mother growing up here is what connected me to New Mexico. I discovered Taos on my own. It has everything I love about the world, except for glaciers. It has a mixture of physical beauty, culture and a sense of history that is very tangible and part of daily life. I’ll love it forever. I don’t always feel at home here but that’s not something I require of my home.”

In fact, he defines the the greatest love of his life as “the wilderness, the mountains, the natural physical world. I’m endlessly fascinated by it.”

One of Dave’s latest ventures has been working for Eddie Bauer, alongside fellow mountaineers Peter Whittaker and Ed Viesturs, to design and build a new outerwear and gear line called First Ascent for the outdoor outfitting retailer. Dave returns to Everest this month, with his First Ascent team, to guide another expedition up the highest mountain on Earth. This time he will guide seventeen year old Erica Dohring, who will miss her prom and high school graduation ceremony while she attempts to become the youngest American woman to climb Everest. The team’s dispatches will be posted on www.firstascent.com.

On the cusp of his departure to Kathmandu, I asked our twenty-first century, Taos version of Han Solo to describe his idea of perfect happiness.

“To be content. I live in a beautiful place and perfect happiness for me would be to reach a point where I’m content just being here. I’ll have to let go of these games that I play. Whatever it is I keep looking for, friends have found it in their front yard.”