Mesa, being the Spanish work for table, refers to

place both conceptually and physically. It is the

center of the home, where families nourish

themselves, pass down history, raise children,

discuss politics and love, welcome strangers and

friends.

Spilt drinks fall to floors from tables like abundant

waterfalls do from high plateaus. Amber light from

a golden Sun floods landscape. History is flat in

the mind’s eye as is place. It is an image on a

postcard that cannot communicate the complexity

of a river about to run dry.

The water table provides for life — it is natural

storage. The table is landscape — a composition.

Healing yellow lines are sent from the heart of a

friend. Mesa is a dry patch of land surrounded by

invisible prehistoric oceans — a place to negotiate

both mentally and physically. It implies a history

that is nearly impossible to imagine.

Table = a flat surface where items can be placed