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Archive for the ‘Creativity’ Category

The walls of Oaxaca remind me of words sung by Taj Mahal…

Part of mural in Jalatlaco on Callejón Hidalgo at corner of Aldama.

Excerpt from mural in Jalatlaco on Callejón de Hidalgo at Aldama

From Consolamentum installation by Jason Pfohl at Matria Arterapéutico.

From Consolamentum installation by Jason Pfohl at Matria Arterapéutico.

Remember the feeling as a child
When you woke up and morning smiled
It’s time, it’s time, it’s time you felt like that again

There is just no percentage in remembering the past
It’s time you learned to live again and love at last

Come with me, leave your yesterday, your yesterday behind
And take a giant step outside your mind

Listen to Taj Mahal’s version of Take a Giant Step by Gerry Goffin and Carole King.

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No doubt, tomorrow I will be awakened, long before the crack of dawn, by the cracks and pops of cohetes (rockets — all bang no bling) and the seemingly non-stop clangs and bongs emanating from the bell towers of the countless churches that surround me in Oaxaca city’s historic district.  And, I’m sure, I will hear the sounds of a procession — December 8 is the feast day of the Virgin of Juquila (La Virgen de Juquila).

Man painting a banner on a flatbed truck

Flatbed truck on Constitución in Oaxaca city, Dec. 6, 2012.

According to legend, in 1633, when a fire burned the small Chatino village of Amialtepec to the ground, a small wooden statue of the Virgin Mary was rescued amidst the ashes.  She was undamaged, save for her light skin color, which was permanently darkened by the smoke, causing her to more closely resemble the Chatino people, who live in this remote mountainous region.  Local priests declared her survival a miracle and she has been venerated ever since and her image appears throughout Oaxaca.

An image of Juquila along highway 175.

Image of La Virgen de Juquila along highway 175.

In 1776, the Bishop had a new temple built for La Virgen de Juquila in the nearby, but larger, village of Santa Catarina Juquila.  Today, pilgrims continue to come, not just on her feast day, often making the arduous journey up into the mountains by bicycle or even on foot.  They go to La Capilla del Pedimento in Amialtepec to fashion images from its clay soil — replicas of wished for items (cars, houses, healed body parts, etc.) to lay at her feet.

La Virgen de Juquila painted on side of building

Side of a building in residential neighborhood of Santa Cruz Xoxocotlán, Oaxaca

According to this morning’s Noticias, the Archbishop of Antequera Oaxaca has called upon Catholics, as part of tomorrow’s feast day, to pray for reconciliation and peace in Oaxaca.  That’s a tall order.  The miracle of her survival has given La Virgen de Juquila the power to bestow miracles — such is the faith of her believers.  We shall see…

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Are you willing

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to stick your neck out?

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Currently sticking her neck out on Matamoros, between Tinoco y Palacios and Crespo.

 

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Last night, flipping through my Cablemas channels, I happened upon Martin Scorsese’s 2011 film, George Harrison: Living in the Material World.  I’ve seen this beautiful documentary before, could watch it many more times, and how could I resist, on Black Friday night, the wonderful irony of the title?  I’m sure George is chuckling somewhere.

Yesterday marked the twelfth anniversary of George’s death (no doubt the reason it was being shown) and, as I watched and listened to Olivia describe the importance George placed on preparing for one’s death, I couldn’t help but reflect on Día de los Muertos.  All things must pass; death as a part of the journey of being.  And, some of this year’s Muertos photos seemed to be ready to let go of most of their color…

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All Things Must Pass
by George Harriso
n

Sunrise doesn’t last all morning
A cloudburst doesn’t last all day
Seems my love is up and has left you with no warning
It’s not always going to be this grey

All things must pass
All things must pass away

Sunset doesn’t last all evening
A mind can blow those clouds away
After all this, my love is up and must be leaving
It’s not always going to be this grey

All things must pass
All things must pass away
All things must pass
None of life’s strings can last
So, I must be on my way
And face another day

Now the darkness only stays the night-time
In the morning it will fade away
Daylight is good at arriving at the right time
It’s not always going to be this grey

All things must pass
All things must pass away
All things must pass
All things must pass away

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A neighbor and I were standing on the upper terrace of our apartment complex, watching the guys paint the dome of Iglesia de San José (a future blog post), when I looked to the south…  Hmmm, I’d never noticed the art on the side of that tall yellow building — and neither had she.  I whipped out my little Lumix and took this photo at 12:25 PM.

12:25 PM

At 12:26 PM, I was about to take a second shot when the guy, his staff, and the little church at his feet, began climbing up the side of the building.  Whoa!!!

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By 12:27 PM, they were gone…

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At 4:02, while composing this blog post, I got up from my desk to take a look at the building again — trying to figure out where exactly this banana yellow 3+ story building is located.  Imagine my surprise when I saw the guy and his staff back on the side of the building AND his twin on the far right.

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What the @#$% ???  Unable to curb my curiosity, I took off in search of my on/off/on again friend.  At 4:34 PM, walking south on Tinoco y Palacios (which becomes, J. P. García),  I found him at 308 J. P. García (almost to Las Casas), hanging out above Veana (one of my “go to” shops for kitchen ware).

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At 4:35 PM, from across the street, I stood on the sidewalk gazing up at this reappearing painting on the side of the building.  ¡Un milagro!

P1000118At 4:36 PM, I still don’t understand…  What was it we saw earlier today?  A stencil?  Artists, can you enlighten me?  All I can say is, I am VERY glad this painter is fastened to a harness.  Of course, I’m hoping it’s not just being hand-held by the two guys on top of the building!

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People often ask, “What do you DO all day?”  This is as good an answer as I can come up with!

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As we have done in previous years, we returned to San Antonino Castillo Velasco on November 1 to watch families begin the preparation of the graves of their loved ones for Día de los Muertos.  In a process unique to this pueblo known for the cultivation of flowers, family members mix the area’s very fine dirt with water; spread it on the top and sides of the grave; smooth it with a trowel, as if they were getting ready to lay tile; using a nail, they outline designs and religious imagery into the mud coating; and then use flowers (fresh and dried), to “paint” the scene.  

This year’s late rainy season brought torrential rains on November 2 and it must have interrupted the decorating, because when we returned on November 3, at the same time as usual, there was still much work to be done.  However, no one seemed the least perturbed; peace, tranquility, and quiet joy prevailed and, as always, it enveloped us.

(Music: Marimba band performing, “Díos Nunca Muere,” written by Oaxaqueño composer and violinist Macedonio Alcalá.)

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Crossing the Plaza de la Danza, on my way to the market this morning, I saw stilt people!

Stilt dancers sitting on ledge, Basilica of Soledad in background

The all-male stilt dancers of Villa de Zaachila were waiting to perform the Danza de los Zancudos at the 22nd conference of the Oaxaca-Centro Alcoholics Anonymous.  Once they took the stage there was much cheering and good-natured catcalls from the 75% male audience

The Dance of the Zancudos originated in the San Pedro neighborhood over 100 years ago and is one of the few places the dance can still be found. The origin of the Dance of the Zancudos is in a promise the inhabitants of Zaachila made to Saint Peter. The story behind it states that an old man encountered an apparition of Saint Peter who asked the community build a church in his name. The apparition appeared each day until it was captured by the local people and enclosed in a small church. Guards were posted at the entrance with rifles and machetes. However, the next day, it was discovered that the saint was no longer there, and he appeared again to the old man who had originally seen him, indicated that God had sent him to protect the village. Eight days remained until the feast of Saint Peter, and the saint asked that the villagers form pairs on stilts to dance. On the feast day, the men danced on stilts while the women surrounded them with candles and incense. The dancers arrived at the foot of a hill where an image of the saint was found, which was brought to the San Pedro neighborhood where a church was constructed for it.  [Wikipedia.  Retrieved, 11/10/2013]

They performed several dances and, to the cries from the audience of, “Otra, otra, otra,” they were ready with an encore.  Baskets that had been tied to their costumes were thrown into the crowd (a la La Guelaguetza) and they exited stage right.  By the way, getting down off the stage on stilts requires a lot of help from your friends.  But once that complexity is navigated, you get to stroll over to a ledge high above everyone’s head, and have a seat.

5 stilt dancers sitting on a ledge.

Reason number 521 to never go anywhere in Oaxaca without my camera!

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The souls  have departed.   And, following 33 hours of travel, my BFF (along with her alebrijes by Alberto Perez and the Xuana family, a traditional black and white rebozo, bottle of Del Maguey mezcal from Chichicapa, several bags of Conchita chocolate, and a fabulous mohair rug woven by Antonio Ruíz Gonzalez), has returned home to the frigid climes of Alaska.  However, gal pal, souls, and the mortals with whom we shared the past, have left warm and lasting memories.  They have also left an exhausted gringa, whose brain feels like one of those overloaded small trucks one (more than occasionally) sees on the roads here.  With every nook and cranny filled, they move at a snail’s pace, be it along a pot-holed dirt road or the carretera, balancing their top-heavy loads.

Our week began on October 29, when the sounds of a band Pied Piper-ed us down the street and around a corner to a comparsa of high school students, who were taking part in a competition of using recycled products for their costumes and floats.  Alas, the rains came and eventually chased us home.

On October 30, delectable dining (lunch at La Biznaga and dinner at Los Danzantes) nourished multiple museum visits and allowed us to join the standing-room-only crowd at the Oaxaca Lending Library (without rumbling stomachs) to watch the wonderful new documentary, La Festividad de los Muertos, chronicling Day of the Dead in Teotitlán del Valle.

Then there was Thursday, the 31st….  A shopping expedition for flowers, sugar skulls, bread (pan de muertos), and two 10-foot long stalks of sugar cane to form the arch over my altar.  I carried them the 10-blocks home on my shoulder (sheesh, they are heavy) and carefully navigating the busy sidewalks.  According to BFF, I provided pedestrians and passengers in buses,cars, and taxis much entertainment.  I didn’t see a thing — I was just trying not to trip, fall, or whack anyone in front, behind, or to the sides of me!

Once the candles, photos, bread, chocolate, beverages (cervesa, mezcal, and water), and meaningful objects to our departed were in place; flowers arranged and cempasuchitl (marigold) petals scattered; and the arching sugar cane affixed to the wall surrounding our ofrenda, we made our way down to the beginning of the CEDART comparsa.

Later in the evening, we drove up to the panteón in Santa María Atzompa.  Passing the bright lights and crush of food, flower, pottery, and other vendors that line the entrance and finally emerging from under the arched gateway, the candlelit ethereal beauty of the cemetery on this night never ceases to take my breath away.  Of course, it wasn’t all exquisite and unearthly enchantment.  This is Mexico and so there was also a (very loud) band and the cervesa and mezcal flowed freely.  I’m sure the difuntos (deceased) enjoyed themselves and partied hardy with the living until the sun rose.  And then all slept.

On the other hand, we left at a reasonable hour, as we were only at the mid-point of our Día de los Muertos marathon.  More to come…

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It’s been a magnificent Muertos filled with memorable moments and special people, along with a feast for ALL the senses.  An initial pass through the photos has weeded them down to 450.  Yikes!  Lots more weeding and processing to do.  In the meantime, here is a snapshot from the past 5 days.

And the magic continues today, when we return to San Antonino Castillo Velasco.

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An ofrenda is an offering, an integral part of the Day(s) of the Dead celebration, filled with meaning, a beacon to the departed, an ephemeral work of art, and the sum of its lovingly chosen parts.  And so, last night my aforementioned BFF and I constructed our ofrenda.

Día de los Muertos in Oaxaca… so much to show and share with those we love.

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Around this time of year, the gringo and Canadian (they are adamant they are NOT gringos) population in Oaxaca begins to grow — an increase that will last for the duration of winter.  Called “snowbirds” by the resident ex-pats, they are an eclectic and interesting crowd.  Among them are a couple of talented people with whom I have become acquainted —  San Francisco Bay Area based writer, Robert Adler (who, along with Jo Ann Wexler, publishes the invaluable, Viva Oaxaca) and Seattle photographer, Tom Feher.

Robert and Tom have embarked on an ambitious project interviewing and photographing undocumented immigrants on their arduous and dangerous journey from Mexico and Central America, en-route to El Norte.  The result is to be a traveling exhibition of 24 to 30 of near life-size images on narrow aluminum sheets designed to be hung from the ceiling and accompanied by a booklet with the biography of each immigrant.  The exhibition will be called, I Have a Name — the title coming from a neighbor of Tom’s, “who, having hired a Latino man to do some work, refused to call him by his right name and referred to him only as “the Mexican”, even though he was from Guatemala. ”

The decision to leave all that is known and loved for distant country and alien culture is not undertaken lightly.  The creators of this project hope, in the words of Robert, that the exhibit, “will convey what we’ve been learning firsthand–that it’s one thing to have a concept such as ‘migrant,’ ‘migrant worker,’ ‘undocumented worker,’ or ‘illegal alien,’ and quite another to know people as individuals with their own names, faces, life stories and dreams.”

This is an expensive project and Robert and Tom need your help to bring I Have a Name to fruition.  They have mounted a fundraising campaign on the crowd-finding site, Indiegogo.  Please consider helping them raise $25,000 before their November 25, 2013 deadline.

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Young man painting face of another young man

How now, spirit! whither wander you?  — Puck, Midsummer Night’s Dream.

Close-up of face painting

Just another Wednesday walk in Oaxaca.

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There is a lot of work that goes into getting a marmota ready to go to the dance.  Getting dressed takes a quite a crew and there is a lot of up close and personal last-minute cinching that must be done.   Then there is squeezing (she does weigh over 70 kilos) through the church plaza portal, to make her grand entrance onto the street.  However, once she emerges, she joins with her friends to dance through the streets of Tlacolula de Matamoros late into the night!

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Calenda in honor of el Señor de Tlacolula, October 11, 2013.  Living history from the valley where corn was first cultivated.

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Remember the childhood riddle, “What’s black and white and red all over?”

Old answer:  A newspaper.  New answer:  The walls of Oaxaca.

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Ahh, young love…  On the walls of Oaxaca, among the extraordinary art and pithy political statements, there are declarations of love.

In red heart on wall: Angel y Edna

People speak of love don’t know what they’re thinking of
Wait around for the one who fits just like a glove
Speak in terms of belief and belonging
Try to fit some name to their longing
People speak of love

—  In the Shape of a Heart by Jackson Browne

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