Chettro Kettle, Chaco Canyon. 24 x 36.

A dry wind blows along Chaco Wash; only the most hardy mesquite, sage
and tumbleweed prosper. The dusty floor and the cliffs are almost
sterile. There lie the ruins of a town, silent these eight hundred
years. Yet the rocks of its walls are not primitive collections of
random stones, but dressed, sharp cornered, well-designed surfaces. A
town built for permanence with grace, and part of a culture that came
and went without a record. We are left only with an awe of its
sophistication and beauty, and a sense of another, greater mortality.

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