Mica Mines and the Pottery that Glitters Like Gold, Part Two: Felipe Ortega!

When last we met, we had embarked upon some exhilarating rambles around various Northern New Mexico sites, exploring the ruins at Posi Ouinge, poking around an abandoned mica mine, and finally, settling in for a lengthy soak in the mineral springs at Ojo Caliente.



Having discovered beautiful, glittering, apparently mica-rich pottery sherds at Posi, I became curious to learn more about this type of pottery, and my curiosity was soon richly rewarded. Shortly after that adventure I reconnected with a good friend with whom I had lost touch for some 15 years; I was astonished to learn that she had previously lived very near Ojo Caliente for some time, working as the apprentice for a famous Jicarilla Apache medicine man and potter in the nearby village of La Madera.

A quick google search revealed that the man she spoke of, Felipe Ortega, was indeed highly regarded among pottery aficionados, and that his specialty was, of all things, sparkly micaceous pottery created from local mica-rich clays! Felipe's website is a goldmine (mica mine?) of information on the rich history of micaceous pottery; I pored over every page and link, and before long I became quite fixated upon the idea of driving back out to the area to visit Felipe at his studio and learn more about his pottery firsthand. I hesitated for some time, however, fearing that my visit might prove an unwelcome distraction to the renowned Apache potter, but my friend insisted that Felipe was an affable fellow who was happy to welcome visitors to his remote studio, and she was certainly not mistaken!

Felipe's website provides excellent directions to the studio, and I soon found myself driving back through Ojo Caliente, keeping an eye out for the "pigs" sign on the left outside of town that marks the turn onto State Road 111.



The scenery along 111 is so lovely I just had to stop and take some pictures!



A sign points the way toward La Madera:



Arriving in La Madera, one passes the prominent and cheerful-looking store Apache Drums. I sure was curious to stop in and check it out, but they were closed.



A little further up the road on the left, right after the pink house, is Felipe's home and studio, Owl Peak.



Felipe was taught how to use the local clay to create a traditional bean pot by a Jicarilla Apache elder, Jesucita Martinez, back in 1969, and has continued ever since to create micaceous pottery on the same plot of land on which he was born. He is often credited with preserving and reviving the centuries-old tradition of micaceous pottery production among the Jicarilla Apaches and beyond; he generously shares his love for the craft with anyone who shows an interest. Through classes and workshops that Felipe has taught as well as personal apprenticeships, potters the world over have acquired the traditional techniques for creating true Jicarilla Apache-style micaceous pottery.

Lately, Felipe enjoys spending more time in the studio creating pottery, trusting former apprentices, many now masters in their own right, to offer classes and workshops to beginners interested in learning the craft. He has written an excellent article, "The Art and Practice of Jicarilla Apache Micaceous Pottery Manufacturing," that offers detailed step-by-step instructions on the production of a traditional micaceous pot. Anyone interested in exploring a more in-depth, anthropological analysis of the importance of clay in the Jicarilla Apache culture will greatly enjoy his article "Ceramics for the Archaeologist, An Alternative Perspective."


Felipe's studio.


Some examples of Felipe's craft shimmer in the morning sun by the door to his studio.

The morning was chilly, but a stout wood stove well-fed with cedar logs kept Felipe's studio warm and cozy:



Bright morning sun bathed the room with light as Felipe assembled the few materials he needed to create a pot. So adept is Felipe at his craft that he moved from one step in the process to the next very swiftly indeed, explaining each as he went, offering anecdotes relating to Apache history and micaceous pottery production, and cheerfully fielding all of my questions, while a finely formed pot took shape before my very eyes!

Bags of micaceous clay, collected each Spring from ancestral clay pits nearby and used throughout the year, are neatly stacked against a wall of the studio.



Felipe takes his seat at the low work table and forms a "tortilla" of clay to serve as the base of the pot:



A "puki" is a shallow vessel that serves as a support for the base of the pot, allowing the walls of the pot to be built up. Traditionally a ceramic vessel, today a shallow, turquoise-colored melamine bowl makes a fine puki! Before being put into service, the puki is coated lightly with cooking oil, then dusted with fine mica flakes; this prevents the clay from sticking to the walls of the puki:



The clay tortilla is positioned in the mica-dusted puki:



Then the inside is smoothed with a potter's rib and prepared for the addition of coiled clay walls:



A ball of clay rolled back and forth between the palms of his hands quickly becomes a "snake" of clay that Felipe adds to the wall; several snakes are formed and added to the wall in quick succession until the desired height is reached:







The process of adding coils and pinching them together to build up the walls is quick, taking only a few minutes to reach this height:



Now Felipe scrapes, smooths, and thins the coiled walls with a potter's rib, defining the overall shape of the pot:





This one will be a traditionally shaped bean pot, so named because one can indeed cook beans in it. I may have failed to mention that aside from being beautiful to look at, micaceous pottery can certainly be used to cook food in! The Apaches used their micaceous pottery right on the fire to cook beans and stews, and so can you; the mica acts as both an excellent temper and an insulator, allowing the fired vessel to be heated directly over a fire (or your stove) without cracking and then to hold in the heat to keep your food warm!

The bean pot Felipe has been working on will have a short, fluted neck, but the vessel body he has made thus far must rest and firm up a bit so that it can support the weight of the clay that will be added for the neck. At this point the vessel was set aside while we retired to the kitchen (or rather, I retired, while Felipe continued his work at the kitchen counter, this time forming and cooking delicious actual tortillas).

The focal point of Felipe's kitchen is this impressive wood-fired cooking stove, but look behind the stove at the wall . . . do you notice that familiar golden iridescence? All of Felipe's walls are plastered with micaceous clay that radiates a warm glow throughout the house!



And remember how I mentioned that you can cook in micaceous pottery? Here's the proof! Felipe cooked up this delicious chile sauce in a pot that he made in 1974 and that still serves him well to this day!



Before long we were joined by Lee Moquino, a young potter and friend of Felipe's who participates in many aspects of local Pueblo Indian culture. By the time the last tortilla was cooked, a group had assembled around the kitchen table, eager to tuck into a hearty chicken stew, to which we all added spoonfuls of that fiery, micaceous pottery-cooked chile sauce and scooped up with those delicious, freshly made tortillas.

After that wholesome and filling lunch, Felipe, Lee, and I headed back out to the studio, where Lee (who comes from a family of accomplished potters and has discovered that micaceous clay suits him very nicely) started working on a pot and Felipe continued his bean pot. The body of the pot had firmed up sufficiently to allow more coils of clay to be added to create the neck.



Coils are added, then scraped and formed into the desired shape:



Meanwhile, Lee's pot was coming along nicely!



Lee and Felipe had an easy, comedic rapport that kept me in stitches. Here, Felipe gives Lee a good natured ribbing: "Why'd you make your pot look so ugly," after which he explained to me that in Apache tradition, a pot is never referred to as "beautiful" until after it has survived the entire process of creation and firing.



Then, before I had even realized he had done it, Felipe had tidied up his bean pot, started on a lid for it, then set them both on a sunny shelf to dry while he went outside to prepare for the firing process.



That bean pot still had a journey ahead of it before it could be fired . . . sanding, applying slip, polishing . . . but Felipe had a group of pots that he was not only ready to fire, but also intended to drop off at his gallery in Santa Fe that very evening!

I wasn't sure I was understanding the timeline correctly; I had envisioned the firing process being rather time consuming, but I would soon learn otherwise (and so will you!). I hope you will stick around for the third and final installment in my "Mica Mines and the Pottery that Glitters Like Gold" series to see how Felipe fires his micaceous pottery . . . It's so hot I think you'll actually feel the flames!

Mining New Mexico: Mica Mines and the Pottery that Glitters Like Gold, Part One

Alas, our time in the Land of Enchantment amounted to little more than an extended vacation; a month in Corrales and two more in Santa Fe before the lure of better work prospects drew us further west to Oakland, California. There is so much to see and do in New Mexico; we managed to get in several little adventures during our stay, but the possibilities for further exploration seem truly limitless there, if one's time allows. One brisk morning we headed north out of Santa Fe, Taos bound, to see what the day might bring.

We passed under a few highway overpasses embellished with images that reflect aspects of the local Pueblo culture:







and spied a monumental lithic dromedary (Camel rock!) gazing out over the expansive landscape:



We spent a few hours poking around Taos before heading north on U.S. 64 out of town towards the Rio Grande Gorge. Now that was a sight for which I had been totally unprepared. Having never visited the Grand Canyon, I can't compare the two, but as we approached the bridge that spans that gorge I could hardly believe my eyes. We parked and walked halfway across the bridge, where the view over that vast gorge was positively breathtaking! I had never heard anything about this place before, but I felt certain that what I was seeing must surely have been every bit as awe-inspiring as the Grand Canyon!



Eventually we made our way back to the car and, consulting our guide book, found that we were a reasonable distance from the town of Ojo Caliente, home of the famous hot mineral springs! Reckoning that a goodly hot soaking might be a fine way to conclude the day, we adjusted our course towards Ojo, and were there well before sundown.



The hot springs themselves were not quite the rustic, backcountry pools I had envisioned; a rather posh resort-like environment now envelopes the 4 original mineral pools, and an admission fee must be surrendered to gain access. As it turns out, admission is slightly discounted after 6 pm, so we decided to explore the area a bit until that time. A map available in the lobby indicates that hiking trails extend for several miles out behind the resort, leading to the ruins of a Tewa Indian pueblo on the mesa above the resort, and also to a few abandoned mica mines further out. The main path leading up to the lobby entrance continues out towards the trails:



The ruins above Ojo Caliente, called Posi Ouinge, are the remains of a thriving community inhabited by the Tewa people between around 1300 to early 1500 a.d.



People have been attracted to the healing waters of the hot springs for thousands of years; while the Tewa are believed to have relocated to other areas after a period of illness reduced their population, the Spanish took up residence in the area shortly thereafter.

To the untrained eye, there is little left to indicate that a city once stood here; time and erosion have erased most traces of walls and plazas. Look down, however, and the signs of human habitation are scattered everywhere in the form of broken bits of pottery.



Some pieces are colored, some bear remnants of vivid geometric designs, some are inscribed with neat rows of lines, and others are dull black, but glisten curiously in the sunlight. One of these latter pieces glistened so brightly I thought surely I had spotted a nugget of gold! Closer inspection revealed that tiny flecks of what appeared to be mica embedded in the fire-blackened clay of a pottery sherd were responsible for that golden flash.



Knowing that some old mica mines lay further out, I wondered if mica from the area had been worked into the clay for either decorative or utilitarian purposes. I took a few photos of the potsherds and then we hiked our way out towards the mica mines.

The mines weren't difficult to spot. We knew well in advance that we were on the right track, as the ground became increasingly sparkly with flakes of mica as we approached the shallow caves.









As we were walking towards the caves, eyes trained on the ground, my heart would skip a beat every time I spotted a chunk of mica larger than a quarter. Little did I know that the mines would yield massive sheets of mica the size of which I had never before seen.

Yes, I am putting those in my backpack; while collecting pottery sherds is strictly forbidden, I believe it is ok to collect some samples of the mica.

Thin, transparent sheets can be peeled off of the "books" of mica. Once, on a tour of Acoma Pueblo, I recall learning that the adobe-walled pueblos were fitted with windows created using sheets of mica; I had a hard time picturing it, since I had only ever seen little flakes of mica. The sheets we found could easily be trimmed into neat squares and secured in wooded frames, making perfectly serviceable windows!



Perhaps the pueblo people used sticky Piñon resin to seal up their mica windows? I couldn't help but stop to scoop up the fragrant resin that oozed from the many dead Piñon pine trees in the area, victims of the 2002- 2003 drought and heat wave that took quite a toll on New Mexico's Piñon population.





As the sun sank below the horizon, we realized that 6pm was nearly upon us; we hastily loaded up my mica and Piñon resin and made our way back down the trail towards the hot springs. The evening was cold and clear by the time we arrived; steam rolled off of the surface of the various mineral-rich springs as burning Piñon fires perfumed the air. My muscles ached from carrying back the heavy burden of mica samples I had collected, and it felt just grand to lay back in the hot water and look up at the steep wall of the mesa upon which the old Tewa village once stood; stars twinkling above. I felt privileged to have the opportunity to soak away my aches and pains as countless generations before me had done; I hope you have the opportunity to explore Ojo Caliente someday too!

A few days after visiting Ojo Caliente, a curious coincidence revealed all sorts exciting information about the glittery, mica-enriched pottery pieces I had noticed at the Posi Ouinge ruins. It turns out that "micaceous pottery" is well-known to archaeologists and aficionados of indigenous pottery, and soon I would find myself back on the road towards Ojo to meet up with a fellow who is well-known for transforming the local mica-rich clay into beautiful (and useable!) pieces of pottery! I hope you will check back soon for part two of the "Mica Mines and the Pottery that Glitters Like Gold" story!!!

FinderMaker West Coast Edition, Volume One!

Happy end of the year tidings! I still have one more "Mining New Mexico" post in the works, but thought I might just do a brief post to let folks know that FinderMaker & Co. are now relocated to the West Coast and very much looking forward to a prosperous and fulfilling new year in the San Francisco Bay area! It has been a rather trying voyage, and it actually isn't quite over yet; on Wednesday I'll be traveling back to New Mexico to rent a truck and load up all of our stuff that is in storage in Santa Fe and drive it all out here.

I was recently looking at some photographs I took during some of my beach walks in Bristol, Rhode Island and started to feel nostalgic, wondering if my beachcombing days were mostly behind me. What a silly thing of me to fret over! A vigorous beach ramble may be enjoyed at a moments notice here!



Yesterday, feeling a little over-nourished from holiday treats, we set out in search of some activity that might get our blood pumping and, within an hour, found ourselves on a remote portion of Point Reyes National Seashore scrambling and sliding down muddy cliffs to the rocky beach below.



I immediately spotted a huge abalone shell awash in the surf and brought it ashore. There were lovely, smooth pieces of broken abalone shell all over, and although my back and bulging pockets eventually protested, one could hardly help but bend over to pick up those enchanting rainbow-hued sherds!



The day was misty and drizzly; plenty of water to keep this waterfall rushing!



The recent rough weather had washed all sorts of goodies ashore! I didn't find a whale vertebra (yet!) but I did find a couple of the biggest sea urchins I've ever come across...





I was also delighted to come across a little piece of "beach turquoise"... a Chiton shell.



Who would think this drab, armored mollusk would have such a colorful interior?



Thanks for joining me on the first of many future West Coast beach rambles! I hope you all enjoy a terrific New Year!!!

A Temple of Turquoise in Kingman, Arizona: Colbaugh Processing!

I have a new Mining New Mexico post in the works, but in the meantime I have one final turquoise-related discovery to add to my "Turquoise Trilogy"!

When I relocated to Santa Fe from Providence, I had hoped that the numerous museums and galleries in Santa Fe would provide ample work opportunities in my field of museum art handling and exhibit installation. Alas, the economy has not been kind to the arts in Santa Fe, and after three months in the city and no likely prospects for work, the difficult decision to move on west to the San Francisco Bay area was made. While I was sad to be leaving the "Land of Enchantment," I looked forward to making a few stops along the trip west, one of which, in Kingman, Arizona, was Colbaugh Processing Inc., the processing facility and retail shop for a renowned Arizona turquoise mining operation.

After a restful night in the sleepy Route 66 town of Seligman, AZ, we headed out early, bound for Kingman, about an hour west. The facility wasn't difficult to spot; the cheery little building was painted in hues that left no question as to the nature of their business: Turquoise!





I might have been content to poke around all morning in the parking lot, which was liberally peppered with colorful leftovers from mining and processing operations:



That's alot of turquoise!

Eventually I diverted my attention from the mineral-rich parking lot towards the door marked "Office," behind which a small world of wonder awaited:



Tables were crowded with bins of turquoise from Kingman as well as several other mines. Much like pearls and opals, turquoise, in its raw natural state, is susceptible to damage and discoloration by exposure to detergents, excessive sunlight, cosmetics, perfumes, and our skin's natural oils. Recognizing that many folks would like to maintain the color and integrity of their stones without, for instance, removing turquoise rings and bracelets every time they wash their hands, Colbaugh specializes in stones that have been stabilized, a process by which the turquoise is saturated with an epoxy resin that renders it nearly impervious to harm by the various factors mentioned above. Colbaugh stabilizes their turquoise on-site, and the retail shop offers everything from colorful chips literally swept off the workshop floor at the end of the day and sold by the pound, to massive, weighty hunks of turquoise, the size of which I had only ever seen in museums.



For the purist, bins of completely natural, unstabilized stones of every size are offered as well:



Below the tables are buckets brimming with even more turquoise:



The walls are laden with lush swags of turquoise beads in every shape and size imaginable:



In fact, every surface in the shop is crowded with colorful mineral wonders!



Need an exceptionally fine specimen to brighten up your curio cabinet? Done!



Inside the glass counter are samples of turquoise from around the world (I didn't notice any Cerrillos turquoise, but I might have just overlooked it!):



The friendly gal behind the counter went out of her way to answer my many questions and patiently weighed and priced each of the "prize specimens" I excavated from the bins of rough, natural turquoise. Priced at between $100 and $250 a pound, I expected that my generous selections might have been very expensive, but I picked out three nicely sized pieces for only $15.00 and treated myself to an additional 1/2 pound of the "floor sweepings" for only $7.50.



Colbaugh Processing leases the right to collect turquoise from an active local copper mining operation; copper is the element that imparts the blue hue to turquoise, and the two minerals are often found in tandem. I was giddy from my visit to Colbaugh Processing as we headed north out of Kingman towards the Hoover Dam and Las Vegas. My turquoise fever now very much reignited, my heart skipped a beat as I spied the mine site in the hills a few miles north of the shop:



There was no time to stop and explore, but opening up my brown paper bag of floor sweepings that evening at the hotel in Bakersfield was tantamount to the suspense and excitement of Christmas morning: I spent a blissful hour excitedly picking through my little pile of sweepings, marveling at the color and variety of tiny treasures therein. If ever you find yourself near Kingman, I promise you'll find a little chunk of heaven (or a bucket full, depending on your needs) at Colbaugh Processing!


My "floor sweepings." Not bad, eh?