The Legacy of Avant-garde Provocateur
BY HANNAH HOEL
For many, their first encouter with Guy Cross— photographer, publisher for decades of THE Magazine, and author—was through his mother, Doris Cross, a legendary Santa Fe artist to whom Guy was incredibly close. Artist Marion Wasserman fondly recalls a dinner in Nambé with Doris and artist John Connell, where Doris asked, “Are we the Chosen People?” Wasserman noted that Guy truly embodied his mother’s spirit—when you were with Guy, you felt chosen and untouchable. Guy Cross was born in 1939 at French Hospital in New York City and raised in Brooklyn, “a proud Dodgers fan,” says his nephew, James Rodewald. His passion for photography started early when Guy’s father, Christopher Cross, gave him a camera when he was about 17. “It gave me status,” Guy recalled shortly before his death in 2024 at the age of 81. “I didn’t know what I was doing, but with a camera in my hands, I had a certain power. It got me into places I wouldn’t have been able to go.” This early fascination with photography laid the foundation for a career that would not only redefine and chronicle the art world in Santa Fe but also foster dozens of artists he supported through THE, while seamlessly spanning the rise of the internet. A UK transplant named Liz Munro vividly recalls her first visit, back in the ‘60s, to Cross’s studio on Chambers Street in New York City. “When I walked up that flight of stairs to that loft and saw those photographs, I knew he had this great eye. And I was very drawn to that.” Guy and Liz married in a Buddhist ceremony, pursuing both art and life together. He moved with Liz to London, where his career as a fashion photographer took off, then back to the States in the early ‘70s, eventually settling in Santa Fe, where Doris and his sister, Norma, were living. Alongside Michael Motley, Cross co-founded The Picture Paper, a renegade publication of tabloid-like images. Featuring everything from mail-in photos to a lost dog poster Cross liked, and an early comic from Matt Groening, pre-Simpsons—it reflected his spirited irreverence for convention. “The Picture Paper was a punk era precursor to THE, and neither of us had a clue how to get it done,” recalls Motley, who would later be the designer of THE. “We just figured it out as we went. Guy was fearless, and reckless, which was part of his charm. We got it done through improvisation, guts, and wild will.” Santa Fe was a small, close-knit community back then. “You could meet everyone there was to know within a month,” notes Joshua Baer, who would go on to pen a column on wine and life for THE. When asked about her brother’s approach to publishing, Norma Cross commented, “He invented it. Guy’s approach was unique—something that was never taught but always felt. He didn’t follow rules; he created his own.” Cross and his then-wife, Judith, brainstormed early ideas and sketched initial designs on newsprint, aiming to capture the true energy and creativity of the Santa Fe art scene and beyond. Wasserman says, “Culturally, we were old world, and he was trying to modernize and expand past the local—while still keeping THE very much tied to Santa Fe.” Judith Cross noted that they intended THE Magazine to “bring some criticism into the art world in Santa Fe,” and it did. The oversized, blackand- white monthly captured more than 25 years of the arts in this enchanted crossroads of dust, sun, and creative entrepreneurship. Cross championed new voices and unconventional approaches, including Baer’s beloved One Bottle column, where wine was a lens through which to understand culture. It’s hard to see that column existing anywhere else. As a writer for THE Magazine for seven years, Iris McLister (now Iris Fitzpatrick) characterized Cross as an iconoclast within seconds of being interviewed. Indeed, his defiance of authority and institutional norms reflected a global movement of artists challenging hierarchy and redefining art. In a pre-web era, when production was slower and word spread through conversations and snail mail, Cross’s projects and leadership in Santa Fe contributed to the postmodern shift in how art was understood and shared. Even the name THE Magazine was deliberate. Notes Fitzpatrick, “He did that on purpose, to be a provocateur, to get under people’s skin. It’s not that he pushed the envelope—he ignored the idea that anything should fit inside one.” Guy was iconic—a cowboy and the best kind of iconoclast—always among the avant-garde, embracing the community while subverting its norms. He was the authority in Santa Fe’s art scene, yet by engaging and mentoring new, unexpected voices, he simultaneously challenged the self-righteous conventions of the “art world.”
From the Summer 2025 issue
