One of you asked me why I enjoy Durango so much and feel so at home here. It's hard for me to give a definitive answer; it's more of an atmosphere that resonates with me.
I like Santa Fe. It is the heart of the Southwest, a cultural symphony of art and music and endless festivals, all influenced by indigenous, Mexican, Spanish, and American cultures. And, of course, sitting at just over 7,000 feet at the southern end of the Rocky Mountains under piercing blue skies and majestic sunsets.
But sometimes, especially in summer, it feels like a Disney-fied city. Not just the throngs of tourists but the precious codes of Pueblo architecture, the commodification of culture, the constant struggle to be both a living city and an ancient artifact.
Durango is Santa Fe’s grittier, cooler cousin, the one who skipped art school to work on a ranch and read Cormac McCarthy novels.
The art here is the way you live your life against the unvarnished landscape, not something you hang on your wall.
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