Near Page, Arizona, the Navajo Generating Station, Burns Navajo Nation - Black Mesa Coal - 2013

 

Near Page, Arizona, the Navajo Generating Station, Burns Navajo Nation - Black Mesa Coal

The trip from Kayenta, Arizona to Tuba City on U.S. Highway 160 covers about seventy-five miles. Thirty miles south of Kayenta, is the Black Mesa crossroads. From there, Arizona Highway 542 heads west toward Navajo National Monument, nine miles away. Extending east from the crossroads is Peabody Coal Company Access Road, also known as Indian Route 41.

Peabody Energy is the largest private sector coal company in the world. Coal from Peabody mines accounts for almost ten percent of U.S. electrical energy production and two percent of worldwide electrical energy production. Although located wholly on tribal lands at Black Mesa, Peabody Energy has disingenuously renamed the largest strip mine in the Southwest as “The Kayenta Mine”. Peabody has a history of trying to distance itself from its own businesses. Someone in the marketing department must have decided that “Kayenta Mine” sounded better than “Black Mesa Mine”.

During the past decade, Southern California Edison closed and then demolished its Mohave Generating Station (MOGS) in Laughlin, Nevada. From its inception in 1971 until its closure in 2005, Peabody Energy loaded up to six hundred tons per hour of Black Mesa Coal into a slurry pipe destined for MOGS, two hundred seventy-five miles away. If run continuously, the pipeline had a capacity of over five million tons of coal per annum. With four 8-million-gallon storage tanks onsite, dewatering the coal and recycling the vast amounts of water used in transport were high priorities. What the Black Mesa aquifer lost, MOGS gained. At the plant, MOGS recycled and reused the slurry water in their cooling loops, thus achieving zero water discharge from the plant.

The Natural Resources Defense Council and the Office of Surface Mining, US Geological Survey (USGS) confirmed that Peabody Energy compromised the viability of the Black Mesa aquifer. “Since Peabody began using N-Aquifer water for its coal slurry operation; pumping an average of 4,000 acre feet, more than 1.3 billion gallons of water, each year; water levels have decreased by more than 100-feet in some wells and discharge has slackened more than fifty percent in the majority of monitored springs.” (Miller).

Near the intersection of U.S. Highway 160 and Arizona Highway 542, stands the architecturally imposing Black Mesa Coal Conveyor Belt and its storage silos. This is also the northern terminus loop of the Black Mesa & Lake Powell Railroad. The Navajo Generation Station (NGS) near Page, Arizona, owns the railroad and its attendant facilities. Between Kayenta and Tuba City, the loading facilities at Black Mesa Junction are the largest structures visible along the highway. From that northern terminus, dedicated coal trains travel south along the length of the both the Kletha and Red Lake Valleys.

Just south of Cow Springs Lake, the tracks leave the highway, bending northwest. In a series of sinuous arcs, the tracks then snake around buttes and mesas. At NGS, there is a second terminus loop, allowing the coal trains to dump their hoppers almost without stopping. Departing the NGS loop, the one-way trip back to Black Mesa Junction is about seventy-five miles.

Even in the desert, some things are too big to hide, and NGS is one of those things. From Highway 160, the Navajo Generating Station (NGS) is invisible, hidden behind a series of low mesas. Once again, out-of-sight makes for out-of-mind. In order to visit NGS, the average tourist would have to plan a special trip on Arizona Highway 98. Not seeking to become a tourist attraction, the remoteness of NGS from commercial and tourist routes is exactly how the utility likes it. Their goal is to keep a 2,250-megawatt, coal-burning power plant mostly off the consciousness of the American public.

Despite improvements over the years, contemporary coal-fired power plants are thermally and environmentally inefficient. In order to operate its plant and equipment, NGS consumes onsite fully seven percent of its own generated power. Pumping of water uphill from Lake Powell accounts for a large portion of onsite energy consumption. Electric train operation between Black Mesa and NGS is another net drain on transmitted power. Additional electrical power goes to run the Peabody Black Mesa Complex, including its many miles of coal conveyor belt. When all internal and infrastructure power consumption is taken in to account, NGS may well consume for more than ten percent of its gross electrical output.

The generating station draws about 26,000 acre-feet (32,000,000 m3) of water per year from Lake Powell. Under average conditions, it takes about 1/2 gallon (1.9L) per kWh of electrical output. Although most of the water usage at NGS goes to scrubbing and cooling, the remainder is stored in large adjacent ponds. Only through evaporation, can the ponds cool sufficiently to allow reentry of their water into the cooling loops. In the end, it is easier to waste the water onsite than to recycle it. With that in mind, systems are set to maximize evaporation and to reduce retention on site. Once retained water reaches a high enough temperature, it loses much of its cooling capacity. To ameliorate the environmental effects of its flue gas emissions, NGS uses massive amounts of cold, Lake Powell water. From June to August 2013, Lake Powell went from 3601 ft. elevation to 3590 ft. or a drop of eleven feet.

At that rate, Lake Powell will soon be much smaller and warmer. As the relict water in the depths disappears into the siphons connected to NGS, the ambient temperature of remaining lake water will rise. As the water warms, it will create inefficiency within the cooling system and scrubbers at NGS. The warmer that Lake Powell becomes, the more water NGS will have to pump in order to keep its coal fires burning at current rates.

Black Mesa and the Navajo Generating Station are two of the critical links within the water and power systems in the Upper and Lower Colorado Basins. Situated in the upper Colorado Basin, NGS transmits power to pump water across the deserts of the Lower Colorado Basin. This is Chapter 1 of a four-part series regarding coal and water in the Southwest. In Chapter 2, learn the consequences of too much power chasing too little water across the landscape of the Southwest.

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By James McGillis at 05:30 PM | Environment | Comments (0) | Link

Drought & Exploitation Threaten the Flow of Two Major Rivers - 2013

 

From Las Cruces, New Mexico to Moab, Utah, Drought & Exploitation Threaten the Flow of Two Major Rivers

On May 20, 2013, I visited Canyonlands by Night & Day, along the Colorado River at Moab, Utah. Although the Colorado spread from bank to bank, I would not have guessed that as I watched, the river crested. Only afterwards did I hear from a local resident that the river had crested that day in Moab. Although the drying environment in the High Southwest is obvious, for a while that day I believed that the river was still rising.

When I arrived at the dock, the evening river tours were still hours away. On that lazy afternoon down by the river, I found the place almost deserted. As I roamed the promenade above the river, no other humans appeared. As I looked down, I could see water rushing past the dock. The water was swift, turbulent and cold. Anyone falling into that torrent would have quickly drowned.

Looking upstream at the U.S. Hwy. 191 Colorado River Bridge, I could see high water marks well above the observed water level. After studying stream flow data from the Cisco Water Resources Station, operated upstream by the U.S. Geological Survey, I uncovered the story. Only two years prior, the Colorado River crested in Cisco, Utah on June 9, 2011. That day, the discharge was at almost 50,000 cfs, with a gauge height of over sixteen feet.

It was on that day that the Colorado River flooded the lower reaches of the Moab UMTRA Superfund site. The flood destroyed a new riverside bicycle path and lapped at the edges of the toxic, nuclear waste dump commonly known as the Moab Pile. Despite a documented paleo-flood history of far greater floods, the wizards of the UMTRA cleanup world had elected not to protect the nuclear waste dump from increased river flow.

At Cisco, on the afternoon of May 20, 2013 the Colorado River temperature hit a mean low point of about 58 f degrees. Discharge, (measured in cubic feet per second) peaked at 12,500 cfs on the prior afternoon. The flow rate held at around 12,000 cfs on May 20, and then fell steadily to 6900 cfs by May 24.

Perusing the excellent database available at the USGS website, I was able to select data from any recent timeframe. Over the 94-year history of the Cisco gauge, I found that the Colorado River averaged 20,000 cfs throughout the May 19 – May 25 period. Several days after my 2013 visit, the discharge rate at Cisco stood at only thirty-five percent of average. With Moab being downstream from Cisco, we can extrapolate a one-day delay for all Moab statistics. Thus, as I watched, the river crested in Moab on the afternoon of May 20.

Almost one year prior, the river crested on May 25, 2012 at just over 4000 cfs. Between the two years, average flow at the crest of the spring flood in Moab was less than twenty-eight percent of the ninety-four year average. During my October 6, 2012 excursion on the Canyonlands by Night and Day Dine & Unwind dinner tour, a river depth of eighteen inches prevented our boat from traveling more than a mile upstream. Near the riverbanks, the air smelled of rotting plants and other undesirable effects of low water. On that tour, the discharge rate of the river at Moab stood at forty-two percent of the long-term average.

The main water sources for the Upper Colorado River Basin are myriad mountain streams and the small rivers that they feed. As we know from archeological evidence, by 1000 CE the Colorado Plateau had entered into a protracted and severe drought. By 1300 CE, not one human remained alive within the confines of the Colorado Plateau. The devastation brought by drought, overpopulation and internecine warfare had driven everyone from that former land of plenty.

Although there was no single event that caused the Great (Anasazi) Disappearance, misuse of natural resources played a major role. With their penchant for building grand, wood-beamed kivas and multifamily dwellings, Pre-Puebloan cultures within the Colorado Plateau denuded huge swathes of the land. Eroded wastelands created by their handiwork are still visible on satellite photos of the area. The Chaco River in Chaco Canyon is a perfect example. Major parts of the Chaco River watershed are parched and rutted.

It was only five years ago that I first heard dire, scientific predictions of prolonged drought in the Four Corner States of Utah, Colorado, New Mexico and Arizona. Today, Western U.S. drought maps show unprecedented environmental distress prevailing in parts of New Mexico, Texas, Oklahoma, Kansas and Colorado. Somewhere between the headwaters of the Rio Grande River in Northeastern New Mexico and the panhandles of Texas and Oklahoma is the vortexual center of the Great Western Drought.

Not coincidentally, that area has seen the longest-standing overgrazing of cattle anywhere in the U.S. What once were rolling grasslands now support only scrub and mesquite. Facing starvation of their bedraggled herds, ranchers are now removing cattle from those public lands. As drought destroys all but the heartiest plant life, scientists tell us that the grasslands are unlikely to recover.

A recent article in the Los Angeles Times chronicled the devastating effects of drought throughout the Rio Grande Valley. While New Mexico’s venerable Elephant Butte Reservoir stands at only three percent of its 1980’s levels, the State of Texas is suing New Mexico for pumping too much of its own groundwater.

Whether legal or not, the extensive pumping of groundwater for irrigation and household use is causing the Rio Grande to recede underground. In the near future, the flowing river may disappear entirely from the surface of the land. Near Las Cruces, New Mexico, pictures show families with young children wading barefoot across the Rio Grande. Each day, the rivulets contract, leaving a relative trickle in the river as it bends toward, El Paso, Texas.

Split by the U.S. Continental Divide, the Rio Grande Valley and the Colorado Plateau are two separate, yet adjacent watersheds. With their close geographical proximity, the environmental problems experienced in each are different only by degree. Gripped by drought, the Rio Grande Valley is a harbinger of a bleak future for the adjacent Colorado Plateau. As the Anasazi overused their lands and natural resources, so too are we.

In less than one year, the first tar-sands extraction-solvents will enter the Colorado River watershed at a Book Cliffs mine near Moab. Uintah County and the State of Utah are eager to facilitate planned destruction within the Book Cliffs landscape. As proof, Uintah County is using public money to pave the aptly named “Seep Ridge Road” from Interstate I-70, all the way to the strip mine. Every drop of tar sands oil-sludge coming from that mine will move by truck or rail to refineries elsewhere in the country. Requiring huge inputs of energy at the mine, plus shipping and refining costs well above that of traditional oil extraction, the strip mining of tar sands in the Utah desert is a game of diminishing returns. In the alchemy of turning solid rock into oil, we consume so much energy that only an unwitting or cynical investor would see value in light of such widespread environmental destruction. Just because we can turn rock into oil does not mean that we should.

Recent state and federal approvals for mineral extraction in the Moab area include a new hydraulic (in-situ) potash mine in Dry Valley near Canyonlands National Park. Its industrial facilities may soon be visible from the now pristine Anticline Overlook. Elsewhere, near Moab, oil and gas leases spring to life in unexpected and environmentally sensitive locations, such as Dead Horse Point. If the land is not within a designated national or state park, almost every acre is fair game for mining.

During my May 2013 visit to Moab, I found what appeared to be a clandestine oil-shale strip mine. Hidden by a butte from the Valley City Road, only a wrong turn on a new, unmarked dirt road took me to that place. Located near the southern rim of the Salt Valley, the mine and its access road do not appear on any map. As the crow flies, the mine exists only a few miles from the southern boundary of Arches National Park. Nowhere could I find a corporate name, road sign or scrap of paper indicating who was digging into the previously untouched land.

It is with boundless energy and enthusiasm that mining, petrochemical and Bureau of Land Management (BLM) interests have rammed mining and drilling applications through a broken process. Despite the efforts of environmental groups to publicize this slow-motion rape of Southeastern Utah, new plans continue for a water-lift and hydroelectric plant on the Colorado River near Moab. Although rarely making more than regional news, a Nuclear Power Plant at Green River, Utah will soon break ground. Not since the Uranium Boom of the 1950s has Emery, Grand or Uintah County seen such levels of unchecked mineral exploration and exploitation.

As the result of unchecked extraction and processing in the 1950s, the Moab UMTRA Superfund site still faces decades of publicly financed cleanup. Yet today, we set in motion myriad water wasting or aquifer destroying projects in the desert. Any single mineral extraction or power-producing project may look good to investors or consumers. However, when taken as a whole, the Colorado Plateau and its namesake river may soon follow the Rio Grande River to a point of no return.

In matters of drought and depopulation, we must concede that the Pre-Puebloan (Ancients) were the real experts. In the High Southwest, if we stop and listen, the Spirit of the Ancients is all around us. In the end, through overuse of natural resources, the Ancients helped change their weather cycle toward hotter and dryer. Today, drill rigs, gas compression sites and diesel equipment of every variety pollute both water and air, drowning out the Ancients’ warning cries.

Over a two-day period during my July 2013 visit to Moab, the monsoon unleashed torrents of rain. Water visibly eroded the ground at the Moab Rim Campark, where I stayed. Still, when compared to the deep snowfields that once lingered into summer in the high country; these thunderstorms produced a mere drop in the bucket. Wondering how the Moab Pile might have fared under such a sudden deluge, I went to see for myself. Although the UMTRA Moab site is now six million tons lighter and smaller than it was five years ago, erosion channels marked its sides. Was that runoff of toxic and nuclear waste contained in catch basins or did it run directly into the Colorado River?

While looking across the Moab Pile toward the Moab Rim, I saw a huge face in the rocky crust of the canyon wall. After a few moments, I realized that successful removal of six million tons of contaminated soil allowed me to see the Ancient Spirit of Moab from that spot. Locked in stone for half of eternity, he seemed to say, “Remember those who lived here long before. Learn to respect the land and its resources. If you do not, you too shall experience a devastated landscape, unfit for human habitation”.

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By James McGillis at 04:55 PM | Environment | Comments (0) | Link

In Keeping with Hopi Tribal Tradition, the Word "Ruins" Disappears From Homolovi State Park, Arizona - 2013

 

In Keeping with Hopi Tribal Tradition, the Word "Ruins" Disappears From Homolovi State Park, Arizona

In May 2008, when I first visited Homolovi Ruins State Park near Winslow, Arizona I enjoyed it for what it lacked. There was no visible water, only a few parched trees and an RV campground with few amenities. With water and electricity brought in from underground to each campsite, the place was more pleasant than it first appeared. In the heat of the day, I could retreat into my air-conditioned coach to read or watch the old analog television signal that emanated from a tower in the nearby town.

Developed decades ago as a unit of the Arizona State Park System, Homolovi seemed teetering on the brink of extinction. Rangers no longer staffed the entry booth, although a campground host did arrive to collect my money and answer my questions. Few of the campsites had occupants during my stay, yet I loved the place for its solitude and lack of activity. Later, in 2010, the park did close for a time.

As a metal sign indicated, only half a mile from the campground was “Homolovi Ruin I”. Throughout the southwest, travelers often see the remains of grand edifices created by the ancient tribes we call the Anasazi or pre-Puebloan. Unlike the great Kivas of Chaco Canyon, New Mexico or the Twin Towers at Hovenweep National Monument, Utah, only a few foundations of a once-great civilization survive as the “ruins” at Homolovi.

 

Watch the desert sunset at Homolovi State Park, Arizona

What destroyed the great buildings of Homolovi was water, rushing in the desert. Early in the Second Millennium CE, the Great Disappearance took place throughout the northern reaches of the Colorado Plateau. Most scientists agree that the ancient peoples fled south, first to places like Homolovi. At that time, with reliable flows of water in the Little Colorado River, Homolovi seemed like a peaceful and abundant place to settle and farm.

As with so many landscapes on Gaia, or Mother Earth, appearances can be deceiving. For years, and perhaps decades, the balance of nature prevailed. The new arrivals from the north built structures near the river and used irrigation ditches to water their corn and other crops. Then, similar to Superstorm Sandy flooding the subways of Lower Manhattan Island, New York, the formerly benign Little Colorado flooded much of ancient Homolovi. Without warning, the river became a torrent, liquefying the adobe dwellings and washing them away.

When twentieth century archeologists dug in the area near the river, they determined that ancient Homolovi was flooded and partially destroyed at least twice. Whether repeated flooding or an intensifying drought led the ancient residents to abandon Homolovi is unknown. What Anglo archeologists concluded, however, is that the place was a ruin.

In May 2011, when I again stopped to enjoy the solitude of Homolovi, some things had changed and some had not. Although still a unit of the Arizona State Park system, at their own expense, the Hopi Tribe now managed the park, including its museum and the campground. Among their first acts, the Hopi eradicated the word “ruins” from the park. This was an easy task, requiring only the painting-out or taping-over of the offending words.

To some, it may seem insignificant to expunge the word “ruins” from Homolovi State Park. To the Hopi it was a sacred act, honoring their ancestors and other ancient dwellers of the area. Contemporary Southwest American Indians believe that the spirits of the ancients still dwell in the areas like Homolovi. “May the spirits be with you”, is the unspoken greeting of current tribe members.

In the various legends of the Southwest, there is no other character as ubiquitous as Kokopelli, the flute playing minstrel and god of fertility. Both anecdotal and archeological evidence points to Kokopelli first appearing as petroglyphs on Hopi tribal lands. For that reason, I invited Plush Kokopelli to accompany me on my May 2013 visit to Homolovi State Park.

Upon arrival at Homolovi campground, Plush Kokopelli wanted to see the river. It was late afternoon, so I set up camp and told him that we could visit the river in the morning. As evening approached, I took still-camera shots of the setting sun. Unlike my 2008 visit, with its colorful skies, my 2013 sunset was clear and dry. The video shows the progression of the 2013 event, followed by the vivid colors of the 2008 sunset.

Some may think it is strange or eccentric to travel with a Plush Kokopelli who is about the size of a two-year-old human, but I find him quite entertaining. For the most part, he minds his manners; plays his flute and watches the scenery go by as we travel. Still, when he wants something, he somehow makes it known. Early the next morning, I awoke to the visage of Plush Kokopelli staring at me. “OK, OK, we can go to the river right after breakfast”, I said.

Viewing the Little Colorado River at Homolovi can be a risky thing. As you approach the Homolovi I trail, there stands a sign reading, “Danger Keep Out. Unstable Bank, Quicksand, Strong Current”. Plush Kokopelli was undaunted, urging me on past a washed out chain-link fence and then to the riverbank. From experience, I knew that the Little Colorado River no longer supported a perennial flow. When the snows of winter melted upstream, there was a rapid and intense flow for only a matter of weeks.

By our visit in mid-May, the flow was sluggish and diminishing rapidly. Soon the running water would become pools of standing water surrounded by quicksand banks. Having experienced the quicksand during an earlier visit, I entreated Plush Kokopelli to stay on solid ground. Almost before I knew it, there he sat, on a snag overhanging the Little Colorado River. Like a parent scolding his child, I placed Plush Kokopelli on an old railroad tie that rested on dry land near the edge of the riverbed.

When I offered to take his picture sitting on the railroad tie, Plush Kokopelli leaned forward and made a run for the river. If I had not captured his movement with my camera, few readers would believe my story. By then it was getting hot along the quicksand banks of the Little Colorado River, so I swept Plush Kokopelli up and carried him back to my truck.

If you ever want proof that the spirits of the ancients still dwell at Homolovi, just invite your own Plush Kokopelli along for a stroll by the river. If you do, be prepared for his tricky behavior while visiting the unstable banks, quicksand and strong current of the Little Colorado River.

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By James McGillis at 01:24 PM | Travel | Comments (0) | Link

Costantino Proietto (1910-1979) Painted Scenes of Locarno/Ascona at Lago Maggiore, Switzerland - 2013

 

Costantino Proietto (1910-1979) Painted Scenes of Locarno/Ascona at Lago Maggiore, Switzerland

Recently, Ms. Dawn Allen of Greensboro, North Carolina wrote to me about her mother’s two Costantino Proietto (1910-1979) original oil paintings. Similar to other recent C.Proietto painting discoveries, Dawn’s parents acquired the pair while living in Germany during the early 1950s.

Her father, Joseph Edgar Allen, was a Master Sergeant in the U.S. Army, stationed at Wallace Barracks in the Bad Cannstatt district of Stuttgart,  Germany. Dawn recalled, “My father was part of the 66th Counter Intelligence Corps Group (CIC), which used the Wallace Barracks installation during the 1950s. Although called a barracks, according to my mother there was no on-base housing”.

She went on to say, “They lived in an apartment through ‘German requisition housing’ at Saarstraße 13 E, . Some regular German apartment complexes were designated for U.S. military. My mother, Mary Alice Allen recalls one side of the street being for U.S. military, with German citizens living across the street. After his first deployment to Stuttgart, he went to Fort Holabird in Baltimore, Maryland and then back to Stuttgart. They purchased both paintings during his first tour in Stuttgart”.

One day in 1953, Mr. Costantino Proietto knocked on their door, selling his artwork. They purchased a single oil painting, later buying another. The paintings hung in her parents’ apartment in Germany and then traveled to Baltimore Maryland. When Ed Allen retired, the couple moved to Brevard, North Carolina, where both paintings continue hanging in the Allen home.

Dawn Allen continued, “I’ve attached photos of the two oil paintings, plus two receipts for purchase of the paintings, which my mother had kept all these years. The old photos include one of a C.Proietto painting hanging in their German apartment. Another is of my father at that time, including the same painting hanging on their wall. During a recent visit to her house, my eighty-eight year old mother suggested that we “Google” the artist’s name. It was then that we found the information on your website”.

From family photos, Dawn Allen determined that the first of her mother’s paintings was purchased in 1953 and the other in 1954. Despite her age and sixty years gone by, Mary Alice Allen knew exactly where to find the original receipts for the paintings. She recalls that they purchased each painting at a different time. Each time, Mr. Proietto traveled about seven kilometers to the Allen's apartment. Although they did not specifically ask him to return, a few months later Costantino Proietto called again, with more paintings to offer.

What Dawn Allen calls the “Steeple Painting” has an artist’s inscription on the back. It reads, “Lago Maggiore, Locarno, Sv, Ytaliana”. From the inscription, I believe the painting depicts Locarno, Switzerland, including a southern view toward Italy, which is on the far bank of Lago Maggiore. An extensive search of images on the internet does not produce a photograph of that particular steeple, or tower. However, my own original Costantino Proietto oil painting of “Lago Maggiore, Ascona” (bottom of page) depicts a rowboat identical to the one in the Allen Family “Steeple Painting”.

The second Allen Family C.Proietto is harder to place. With no inscription on the back and no mention of subject matter on the receipt, it could be of any Swiss or Italian lake. However, there is one clue that might help place the location of the “Lake House” (above), as the Allen family calls the painting. Immediately after the initial publication of this article, C.Proietto collector Jeffrey Muenker sent me a photo of his own "Lake House" painting (left). Both the Allen Family "Lake House" and the Muenker Family painting appear to have used the same photo as their origin. There are subtle differences, including the absence of a lower window and the addition of a flowering plant on the Muenker Family painting.

Each C. Proietto acquisition story is unique, although many center on American GIs stationed in postwar Germany, and mostly near Stuttgart. The impeccable provenance of the Allen Family C.Proietto paintings is peerless. The receipts pictured here are the first known sales documents created by the artist. Written in Costantino Proietto’s hand and signed by the purchaser, J.E. Allen, they offer some interesting details about the purchases.

The receipt on the left shows a date of “8-10”, indicating final payment (and delivery?) in August or October 1953. It reads, “1 oil painting - DM 200", with 50% down and two additional payments of DM 50. In pencil, at the bottom, the receipt is marked, “Paid”. The other receipt was for DM 115, and paid in full on January 4, 1954 or April 1, 1954, depending on the use of American or European date standards. There is no mention of framing, but Mary Alice Allen tells us that both were sold in identical frames. Most C.Proietto paintings were sold unframed.

At the top of each receipt is a rubber-stamped impression, including the artist’s name and address. Also appearing is the German word, “Kunstmaler”, meaning “Production Painter”, when translated into English. As an Italian, living in Germany during the 1950’s, the artist also included the words, “artista pittoro", loosely translated as “picture artist”.

Despite his skill and expertise, Costantino Proietto painted for the people, often selling his paintings door-to-door or at U.S. Post Exchange exhibitions throughout postwar Germany. The good news for C.Proietto collectors is that there are perhaps thousands of his works hanging undiscovered on walls all over the world.

Proving what a small world we live in, Dawn Allen finished her email to me with the following. “I have seen these two painting hanging on walls all my life. I noticed one of your articles about a person with a C.Proietto painting mentioned a ‘Marion Fortune of Brevard, NC’, who passed away in 2012, willing her prized C.Proietto painting to a niece. My mother, who also lives in Brevard, remembers Ms. Fortune as someone who worked for the local veterinarian, Dr. McPherson. If only Marion and my mother had talked about their Proietto paintings!”

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By James McGillis at 06:13 PM | Fine Art | Comments (2) | Link

The Great American Bison Herd, Now held Captive in Northern Mexico, gathers at the Border to Sing, “Don’t Fence Me In” - 2013

 

The Great American Bison Herd, Now held Captive in Northern Mexico, gathers at the Border to Sing, “Don’t Fence Me In”

In William DeBuys recent book, “A Great Aridness”, he discusses biological diversity at El Uno Ecological Reserve, located within the Greater Janos Grasslands, in Chihuahua, Mexico. Although his primary focus is on scrubland encroachment and related stress on black-tailed prairie dog populations, he also touches upon the American Bison herd now located there.

In 2009, twenty-three bison from Wind Cave National Park, South Dakota arrived at Janos to start a breeding herd within northern Mexico. Unlike ninety-five percent of the bison in North America, the Wind Cave bison herd is genetically pure, containing no cattle genes. Unlike cattle, which stay and feed to the root, bison eat and roam, leaving some of the plant intact. Their heavy step breaks up the soil and helps grass seeds grow.

In 2009, National Park Traveler, Bob Janiskee wrote, “The trans-border herd referenced here lives north of the Janos grasslands and migrates seasonally into Hidalgo County, New Mexico. This is actually a bit of a problem, since the wild bison is a protected animal in Mexico, where it is considered endangered. It is not protected in the U.S., where it is seen as a grazer, competing with livestock”.

On May 11, 2011, the Nature Conservancy staff at El Uno Ecological Reserve rejoiced with the birth of a female bison calf. It was the first calf conceived locally since 2009, when the Conservancy and a Mexican national working group initiated the Bison Reintroduction Project.

From Canada to Mexico, grasslands are relatively similar. There are only a few differences, such as the temperature in summer, the amount of snow in winter, and their native vegetation. That is why the bison herd in El Uno, coming from South Dakota has been able to adapt well to the grasslands at the Janos Biosphere Reserve.

According to the U.S. National Library of Medicine, “Archeological records and historical accounts from Mexico document that the historic range of the bison included northern Mexico and parts of Southern New Mexico. The Janos-Hidalgo bison herd, one of the few free-ranging bison herds in North America, has moved between Chihuahua, Mexico, and New Mexico, since at least the 1920s. The cross-border bison herd in the Chihuahuan Desert grasslands and scrublands demonstrates that the species can persist in desert landscapes”.

Author William DeBuys had inspired me to look deeper into both the promise and the plight of the Janos Valley bison herd. While writing, I could hear the scratchy, obnoxious sound of cable news in the background. As I arose to turn off the TV, I heard that the U.S. Senate had reached a “compromise” on the 2013 Senate Immigration Bill.

The compromise was one that only a group of isolated, Washington Beltway politicians could concoct. The new compromise includes seven hundred miles of impenetrable border fencing and twenty thousand new border patrol agents. If all of the proposed agents were to arrive at the border simultaneously, there would be one border patrol agent standing every 250 feet, all along its seven hundred mile length.

Apparently, there is no federal money to protect grasslands and biodiversity along the U.S. Mexican Border. Instead, all the money will go to a vast “Maginot Line” of border defenses, to include fixed camera towers and mobile surveillance systems. This "standing army" would protect the U.S. against a feared “third wave of illegal aliens”. I can see the fence manufacturers, construction contractors and military equipment manufacturers salivating over their anticipated contracts. Who needs the hassle of foreign wars when we can have a fully militarized border right here at home?

Soon enough, if conservatives win and conservationists lose, the Janos Valley bison herd will become a casualty of the 2013 Senate Immigration Bill. In order to live, the herd must travel north and south across the Chihuahuan Desert, including parts of Mexico and Southern New Mexico.

While a cross-border consortium of governmental and non-governmental agencies works tirelessly to restore and enhance the desert environment, our federal government plans the largest environmental destruction project in U.S. history. If even a few of those Senators would visit the desert, they could foresee see the consequences of their actions.

Desertification, including the encroachment of scrub-lands and the creation of dust bowls and sand-prairies is a problem facing most of the United States. Wall building and heavy vehicle traffic in our fragile deserts may indeed stop a few border crossings. In their zeal to “seal the border”, Congress may well destroy the desert bionetwork. The unintended consequences of their actions may render the border area unlivable for humans, prairie dogs and the American Bison.

The Mexican-American War ended in 1848. One hundred sixty-five years later is a poor time to spend $30 billion of our tax dollars to fight an ecological war against a fragile desert environment. Our Senate seems to say, “Give me a home where the buffalo roam, but at any cost, prevent ‘them’ from crossing the Mexican border”.

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By James McGillis at 05:01 PM | Environment | Comments (0) | Link

At Twin Arrows, Arizona - What Goes Up Must Come Down - 2013

 

Whether it is Cafes or Casinos...

At Twin Arrows, Arizona - What Goes Up Must Come Down

Old-66, the Mother Road, Route 66 and their successor, Interstate I-40 follow similar, if not identical paths from Flagstaff, Arizona, east to Winslow, Arizona. On May 15, 2013 I followed the newer route; taking an occasional detour when any fragment of “Old-66” appeared by the side of the road.

At Exit 219, Twin Arrows loomed into view. In this case, the actual twin arrows were examples of ironic, super-realistic art. Not quite out of place, but outsized and iconic, the twin arrows affect all who see them. Utility poles, angled steeply into poured concrete provide an underlying structure for the twin arrows. As I looked to the north, I imagined ancient warriors of the Navajo or Hopi tribes standing seventy-five feet tall, framed against the horizon. Only a warrior of that height could launch such massive arrows from his bow.

Earlier known as the Canyon Padre Trading Post, the two giant arrows arrived on scene by the early 1950’s. Like the nearby Two Guns outpost before it, Twin Arrows looked like it was in the middle of nowhere. By the early 1950's, anything out there that looked substantial and offered travelers’ services was a welcome sight. With its 1950’s prefabricated diner and a poured concrete apron at the fuel pumps, the renamed Twin Arrows Trading Post later billed itself as, “The Best Little Stop on I-40”.

Although it was a generous-sized property for the 1950’s, when I-40 opened, Twin Arrows days were numbered. Higher speeds and more fuel-efficient autos meant fewer stops in the middle of nowhere. After a succession of owners, the service station and trading post closed for good in the late 1990s.

Although the Arizona State Land Department Trust owns the land, the Hopi Tribe owns the derelict buildings at Twin Arrows. Despite its picturesque, if crumbling facilities, I doubt that economic reality will allow the old Twin Arrows Trading Post to operate once again. Good news regarding this contemporary Indian ruin includes the 2009 all-volunteer restoration of the twin arrows. For the near future, at least, travelers on I-40 shall still enjoy the site-gag of two giant arrows that just missed landing on the Interstate.

To the north, on the far side of Exit 219 stands the new Twin Arrows Navajo Casino Resort. Unlike the old Twin Arrows Trading Post, the new Twin Arrows exists mainly to promote state-of-the-art Indian gaming. Ironically, there are no motorist services at the new Twin Arrows and no RV Park for the wandering traveler. Still in the “middle of nowhere”, the Twin Arrows business plan focuses on food, lodging and “responsible gaming”, better known as, "We win, you lose gambling".

Almost two years ago, I was thrilled to see what looked like a major medical center rising from the dusty plains of the Holbrook Basin. When I discovered that it was a new Mecca for gamblers, both native and non-native, I had to laugh. Twin Arrows Casino is the Navajo Nation’s first foray into major casino gaming.

Touted as a “job creator” for the Navajo people, I could not help noticing that the “free valet” signs sported a corporate logo, not a Native American one. With a purported cost of $200 million, Twin Arrows’ only nod to the health and welfare of tribal members is the allure of instant riches through “responsible gaming”.

As the photos accompanying this article atest, on the Mother Road, the old twin arrows penetrated to the very soul of Mother Earth. Then things changed. Some arrows pointed up toward the promise of free riches from the sky, while others pointed downward, toward the truth of the matter. Now, in our stock market and casino driven world, everything must point up, including the twin arrows on the façade of the new casino and resort.

Unless a visitor loses everything at the tables, he or she may still enjoy the proffered luxury accommodations. Still, at its heart, the Twin Arrows  glorifies alcohol, food and gambling. As with the original Twin Arrows before it, the novelty of this new venue will attract sufficient business for near-term success.

In the future, what shall happen if I-40 travelers tire of stopping at one more kitschy roadside attraction? If the new Twin Arrows fails, the Navajo Nation can still re-purpose it as a much-needed regional medical center. Only time will tell.

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By James McGillis at 04:52 PM | Travel | Comments (0) | Link