Treading On Sacred Ground
Blue Canyon is a very special place. Of course it’s special to landscape photographers because of the incredible sandstone formations. But, beyond that, it holds a special place in the hearts and minds of the Hopi people. Blue Canyon sits in the northwestern corner of the Hopi reservation and aside from being a remarkably beautiful place, it also contains the only perennial, riparian ecosystem on Hopi land
I recently spent a day with Leigh Kuwanwisiwma, the director of the Office of Cultural Preservation for the Hopi tribe. We spent a lot of time exploring the area that contains the sculpted, layered formations which draw thousands of photographers to this place. It has been closed by the tribe because they fear that the fragile area will be harmed by too much traffic. I was there to photograph the canyon for a book about the Hopis’ sacred places Leigh hopes to publish.
Most of the sandstone formations are clustered in one relatively small area just off the main road, but I think I could spend a week there and never have to photograph the same formation twice. As I wandered, I recognized several places I had seen as images on some landscape photographers website. I made the obligatory exposures, but I wasn’t there to copy someone else’s work, so you will not see any of those images here. Instead, I tried to get a feel for the place as seen through the eyes of my guide, the people with whom this landscape resonates on an entirely different level.
I mentioned that this place is sacred to the Hopi because it holds the only perennial, riparian ecosystem on their reservation. That can mean many different things depending on a person’s experience. In this arid land where water is scarce, it means a small trickle that brings life to this otherwise harsh environment.
I made this image at the place where the water collects in a small pool before plunging into the deep sandstone slot that it has carved over the millennia. As the stream moves down the canyon it disappears into its sandy bed in places-never far below the surface-and then reappears farther downstream, a constant reminder of the fragile balance between life and death in this hauntingly beautiful place.