Time and Again in Taos

Going back to my favorite place outside of the world

When I first arrived in Taos, New Mexico, I was offered the kind of mystical token of wisdom that you might expect upon entering Stonehenge or Sedona: “The place is magic, mannn.” For example, Wheeler Mountain, a smooth rock summit along the Sangre de Cristo Mountains above town, I was told, had a mighty, if largely untraceable, magnetism. The town itself is said to possess a healing energy—even beyond the mysterious phenomena called the “Taos Hum,” which purrs along at a low frequency, unattributed, like an X-File—and spirits, both good and ill, are known, known, to haunt the place. Of course, natives of any remote, beautiful town with an artistic legacy, from Montauk to Big Sur, can be heard promoting the sacred, chakralike properties of their home. During my three visits to the Helene Wurlitzer residency program for artists, I became one of them.