Yesterday, the moon rose over the Palace of the Governors, contrasting with the adobe and wood-beam scene below. The architectural elements—evolved from colonization in 1610—were transected by a lone figure walking with a cane under the portico’s shelter.
Perhaps her path symbolizes the passage of time and the evolution of a structure that was once the center of Spanish administration over what is now the American Southwest.
As I stood adjacent to the Palace, on the Plaza, a busker preparing to sing in front of the enclosed former obelisk base—a site with a controversial history—asked if I would photograph this moonrise theme. I took the literal reflection of light as an opportunity to consider the diverse voices and stories that inhabit this place’s memory.
The obelisk, known as the Soldiers’ Monument, was built in the late 1860s to commemorate Union soldiers who died in the Civil War and battles with Native Americans. The monument’s inscription became controversial—and its reference to Native Americans as “savage” was chiseled off in front of bystanders in 1974.
On Indigenous Peoples’ Day in 2020, protesters toppled the obelisk amid ongoing debates about its place in history. Now, a study is underway to determine where it should stand next.
This image captures a moment to think about time, place, and changing populations and perspectives in a public place. Sustaining such places requires immersive understanding, and the rising moon’s light helps us remember how simultaneously simple and complex this effort can be.