In Taos, I assumed the guy painting a sculpture at the laundromat was local, but he was from the Bronx. He and his partner gave me the lowdown on masks, handshakes and art in viral New Mexico

Northern New Mexico has remained in my heart since I lived in Santa Fe in the early 1980s, and visiting Taos during the pandemic was restorative. The virus was on the rise, and New Mexico was requiring visitors to quarantine. Outside the laundromat where I was washing my traveler’s clothes, a man sat on a bench painting a ceramic sculpture. I profiled him immediately as indigenous to the area, but then he revealed my folly by speaking with a slight Bronx accent. His name was Rafael Vega and he took me over to meet his partner, Rebekah Powers, a midwestern transplant who lived in a verdant compound in the center of Taos. Sitting under blue sky, near their tipi and fire pit, we discussed the virus, the galleries, and how people make their way in a beautiful place like Taos, where jobs don’t grow on trees.