March 21, 2021
My grandfather, Bob Guess, had a younger brother who owned a small ranch at Steins Pass, New Mexico. When he passed (1974-ish), I inherited his saddle and it is a point of pride in my studio.
Uncle John's 1905 Saddle,
This morning I was working in my studio and I didn't hear Uno rooting around behind me, or licking my leg, or anything. This, of course, is a sure sign he is up to no good, somewhere. So I got up and looked around at his usual lounging—and peeing—spots, but no Uno was to be found. Finally, I looked up the stairs that leads to the Crow's Nest and who did I spy on the top step looking down at me with some amusement?
When I posted this on Facebook, a co-conspirator of mine wanted to see more of that saddle peeking through the stairs at the bottom.
Okay, Juni Fisher, here you go.
I bought this in the late seventies when I worked in downtown Phoenix at New Times Weekly. There was an old school pawn shop up the street and I saw this on my lunch hour and had to have it. I think I paid $300 for it, which was a lot for a guy making $110 a week, before taxes. This saddle also is a pride of joy in my studio. Of course, I have other saddles hanging about in here as well, but they're not worth taking the time to shoot.
So, shoot me.
Meanwhile, here are the Mexican shotgun chaps, I bought in Orogrande, New Mexico, on the way to Lincoln in 1991 to shoot reference photos for what became my first BtK book.
(Mexican Shotgun Chaps)
And, here are those Escopetas put to good use:
And then there are facts being twisted. We are at a curious juncture with the current tearing down—figuratively and literally—of so many historical characters.
Daily Whip Out: "Kit Carson at The Stake"
A cover idea, perhaps? A Carson statue going up in flames? I've got a few more takes on it, to come.
"It's hard to kiss the lips at night that chew your ass out all day long."
—Rodney Crowell
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