King Stadium hides in the brush that was once Camp Luna. A WPA project, the stadium wastes time in silence, its stone bleachers reminiscent of ancient Rome. I’m writing a magazine story on this forgotten bit of Las Vegas architecture, and will post more information – and more photographs – for My Tiny Vegas readers soon.

“It’s too hot, Mom.”
My young son, Martin, lifted his baseball cap and wiped the sweat from his forehead. We’d walked two miles, almost three. The Mount Calvary Cemetery stood just out of reach.
“We’re almost there, honey. C’mon. Have something to drink.”
I held out a full bottle of water. My grandmother’s ashes coughed. I felt them lurch, three miles away in …

Every sit-down restaurant in Las Vegas has green chile, including Little Moon, the resident Chinese buffet. Of course you can get green chile poured on enchiladas at Smiling Faces, at the Landmark Grill, at Estella’s. The local eateries know their market, and you can add chopped green chile to your pizza at Dominos, your value-meal burgers at Mc- Donald’s, even …

Two years ago, taggers hit the side of my garage that faces one of Las Vegas’ alleys, hit it with white aerosol spray in the shape of a Halloween ghost surrounded by bulging initials. It wasn’t the first time; black paint covered most of the space in a feeble attempt to cover a prior message. I gave up the ghost, …

Why did you open Clarity Gifts and Gallery?
I opened Clarity because I wanted to have a place in Las Vegas, New Mexico, that I could work with local artists and offer products that were made Fair Trade from around the world as well as here, locally, in New Mexico. Having a great location helps. We’re off the historic Old Plaza …

The face of a man – curiously missing eyes, missing teeth, his brain seemingly evaporated – almost grins from a pedestal in Burris Hall. Spikes protrude from his head, evidence of a piercing gone mad, of the torture of migraine, of a troublesome mauling with oversized golf tees, perhaps, or martini stirrers. Matthew C. Wicker’s, “Stacks,” is both disturbing and hilarious at once. An artist from New York, Wicker is one of over eighty professional iron artists in Iron Tribe.

“I was trying to describe this group of people,” explains David Lobdell, NMHU Department of Fine Arts professor, and curator of the Iron Tribe exhibition, now on display through Friday, March 6. “We are willing to spend our extra money to do this – we’ll drive across the country, drive for 30 hours one way. We didn’t go to school together. I learned it after school, when I was just started out at Highlands. We’re not necessarily friends. We come together out of our mutual interest. The world Tribe seemed to suit the group best, especially for the name of a program that happens in New Mexico.”

A warm pair of soft hands wiped the hair from my forehead. The Pacific Ocean roared from a tiny black boombox, its groan and tumble shifting my reality from winter wind to the promise of summer. I knew her shift of tide and sand, her captured echo of gull, of dried kelp rustling against barnacled moor. It’s been almost five …