Sunday, December 12, 2010
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Pastels of Oaxaca
The Back streets of Oaxaca. This is about 5 blocks up the hill from where I was staying.
The flowers, hills and air was very refreshing.
Monte Alban is behind me, and I'm facing the valley.
That little trail up the nearby hill intrigued me.
Where was it going How do you get to the beginning?
Below is the Zapotec ruin of Zaachila. A site on a hill in a little town. I took a cab there by myself but shared a return cab. There are 2 staircases into the underground tombs. I pulled a chair out from the little museum and sat and sketched for about an hour. Brought along some water and a peanut putter sandwich on a flour tortilla. Walked through the town and stopped at a community table to have a quesadilla and diet coke. Shared a table with 4 or 5 locals, who totally ignored me as if I wasn't there. So I sketched them.
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Getting Back to my Real Life
Leaving this group and leaving Oaxaca is very, very hard. Each day was such a delight, it didn't always turn out the way I planned, but who cares? Whatever happened was better. The last dinner party Jake planned moved us from the roof to inside because the group got larger...it turned out to be chilly that night and we were better off inside. The meeting Yasmine, Scott and I planned with an artist didn't work out but 3 seconds later we discovered the orchestra was rehearsing the concert we were going to miss (so we sat looking at the mountains and heard the whole concert for free). The pool we thought we'd swim in rained us out, so we sat having a wonderful lunch under the vine trellis. It was like that every day.
Visiting Asar-O the protest artist group. We each bought a print, (100 pesos, 13 pesos to the dollar). That morning we received an e-mail that the Princeton Museum of Art just bought 39 of their prints. Oh to be so cutting-edge!
Last dance for me and Dr. Spores.
The amazing free concert, the bass guitar had 6 strings. The percussion section had bongos.
Nosferatu Travis. But we love him.
Dr. Stephanie Wood gets her new dress at the party. The band got rained out at one point.
Spooky remains in the Museo Anthropologia. The exhibition designer made you walk down stairs into the "tomb". Well done.
Out in the garden that surrounds the museum.
Visiting Asar-O the protest artist group. We each bought a print, (100 pesos, 13 pesos to the dollar). That morning we received an e-mail that the Princeton Museum of Art just bought 39 of their prints. Oh to be so cutting-edge!
Last dance for me and Dr. Spores.
The amazing free concert, the bass guitar had 6 strings. The percussion section had bongos.
Nosferatu Travis. But we love him.
Dr. Stephanie Wood gets her new dress at the party. The band got rained out at one point.
Spooky remains in the Museo Anthropologia. The exhibition designer made you walk down stairs into the "tomb". Well done.
Out in the garden that surrounds the museum.We had our farewell party with brass band, dancing (see me and my crush, Dr. Spores) food and Zak's new "stick Travis" which has evolved into Alebrijes Travis but bares a resemblance to Nosferatu Travis. Like I said, whatever turns out is just better.
On the way home I had a long layover at the Mexico City airport. I have traveled on subways in many cities and figured this one couldn't be that different. I had to switch twice and it took over an hour but I made it to the Museo Anthropologia. What a palace! The artifacts from all the sites we went to, the stelae in the adjoining tropical gardens, the tombs you have to climb down stairs to get into (spooky!). This was all accomplished with the kindness of the Mexican people. They never let me down when I had need of directions. One man led me all the way to the next train and it wasn't even the train he needed to get on.
This was a experience that will be with me forever. Viva Mexico!
Mucho Gracias! Last Mexico Post. Pearl
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Friday, August 6, 2010
Red Bugs, Black Pottery
This is our last week and I must say, I'm not ready to leave. Every day has been a delight of the senses, the visuals, the learning, the smells (worse now that the garbage collectors are on strike) but that does not stop us!
Our group has been presenting our fabulous lesson plans and units of study all day for three days. Each evening we had a film documentary at the local theatre (two bulbs overhead) with the filmmaker there for the Q&A afterwards. Film topics have been the use of pesticides by indigenous people who are hired by tobacco companies. Many are ill with cancer because they can't read the precautions (written in English and Spanish) on the side of the containers. They speak Zapotec or Triki or any other of the dozens of local languages. Another film was about women who try to get involved with politics and are threatened, sabotaged etc.
The most moving to me was the women who get tricked into being "mules". Sometimes even by a family member. They carry the drugs, get busted, don't even know what they're carrying and spend 10 years in jail. Why did they do it? They're poor, needed the $20, and were forced to sign a confession. Even though they had a court appointed lawyer, the lawyer only spoke Spanish and like I said earlier, many people here speak their own language. The best part about being an artist and protesting is that the film was shown to judges and 7 women were let go.
People here are trying to make it but are thwarted from all sides.
Dancing...there's always something to see on Sundays in the Zocalo.
Part of my art unit is to learn about body ornamentation that the Zapotecs had at Monte Alban. Here the group tries on the nose decor. This was shot in the Etnobotanical Garden which is right outside our classroom door.
Colonial architecture. This is the front door to the theatre. Somewhat Baroque but with a hint of Art Nouveau.
What did I tell you? Stephanie NEVER travels on a paved road. We are leaving the Cochineal Farm. Did you know where your red dye used to come from? Little bugs.
One of our very exciting, and very delicious lunches...though the ambiance is questionable. You missed the semi trailer that just went by. This is San Bartolo Coyotepec, home of the very famous black pottery. My mother bought some in 1967. I bought her another piece today for her patio.
Here's the Cochineal nursery. They hatch in the little baskets, crawl out and then the females imbed themselves in the Nopal cactus leaf. The males die. The whole process takes about 3 months.
This 91 year old potter would not stay still for a second-all photos of her are blurry. Elise asked her about the process in Spanish.When the clay is leather-hard they carve it, then polish it with quartz or obsidian. The clay is fired in a kiln with wood. No glaze. To get it to hold water they fire it at a much higher temperature, the surface then melts more and takes on a rainbow-like sheen. Like oil on water.
Now back to finish packing. I transfer to a hotel for the last night and leave at 4 am for the airport Sunday morning. Tonight is our last get together. Dr. Spores is coming and were all excited!
Saturday, July 31, 2010
A Tale of 2 Houses
On Friday I visited another post classic ruin "Zaachila". It has 2 tombs you can walk into. One with some great carvings on the walls. Lord 9 Flowers was buried here around 1200 with an assistant and several servants to make him comfy in the afterlife. All kinds of jade and turquoise masks were unearthed and sent to the INAH Museum of Anthropology in Mexico City. While I was in one of the tombs, remember I was all alone, my cell phone said "LOSS OF SERVICE".
One of the tomb's entry door.
Here he is all dressed up on the back wall.
This is before my cell phone talked to me and scared me.
She's making my quesadilla with cheese and cilantro for 25 pesos. About $2. There is charcoal under the flat surface.
On Saturday we piled into cabs to visit the art school and paper factory of St. Augustin Etla.
Dinner on the roof with fellow teachers.
The Art School had a huge textile exhibit-a hand woven piece would cost about $4-5,000 if you paid for it by the hour.
This was an old fabric factory-redesigned and paid for by an artist who is from Oaxaca. It is a tradition of Oaxacanenos to give back after they make it good. We're seen this happen several times. The design and layout are magnificent-even the bathroom is fabulous-this wall has no glass in it and water is trickling down.
The ceramic artist Gustavo Perez is incredibly prolific and changes his "voice" constantly...here are some samples of his work.
After the tours of the paper factory and the art school we were invited back for lunch at Marietta's house. One whole wall is open-no glass, no screens, just a heavy duty shade to lower in case it rains too hard. Our fearless leader Stephanie in the white shirt enjoys dining on the terrace.
Almost a heart attack sums it up.
One of the tomb's entry door.
Here he is all dressed up on the back wall.
This is before my cell phone talked to me and scared me.
She's making my quesadilla with cheese and cilantro for 25 pesos. About $2. There is charcoal under the flat surface.
On Saturday we piled into cabs to visit the art school and paper factory of St. Augustin Etla.
Dinner on the roof with fellow teachers.
The Art School had a huge textile exhibit-a hand woven piece would cost about $4-5,000 if you paid for it by the hour.
This was an old fabric factory-redesigned and paid for by an artist who is from Oaxaca. It is a tradition of Oaxacanenos to give back after they make it good. We're seen this happen several times. The design and layout are magnificent-even the bathroom is fabulous-this wall has no glass in it and water is trickling down.
The ceramic artist Gustavo Perez is incredibly prolific and changes his "voice" constantly...here are some samples of his work.
After the tours of the paper factory and the art school we were invited back for lunch at Marietta's house. One whole wall is open-no glass, no screens, just a heavy duty shade to lower in case it rains too hard. Our fearless leader Stephanie in the white shirt enjoys dining on the terrace.Friday, July 30, 2010
Pottery and Alebrijés
Today we are with the Aguilar family to see how they make pottery in their home. Her only tools are; the clay she dug up out the ground this morning, some sand, water, an old corn cob and broken piece of dried gourd to help shape it, an old piece of leather to help smooth it, and a big fire as a kiln. 
The guys in our group are such charmers with the ladies. Michael is speaking Spanish to the daughters of the Aguilar family who a first peered at us from behind railings, then after a few cookies from Celeste, they were coaxed down. They followed us to the bus to say good-bye.
Well by now you know we don't drive on paved roads. We are going to a little village outside of Tlacolula, which is a small town outside of Oaxaca.
Here's the shed for cooking and storing the clay, it's in the main courtyard of the property. Angie has to duck to get out, the mule is to the eft, chickens and dogs are running around. A lovely domestic chaotic scene.
Dr. Stephanie Wood, our fearless leader tries to communicate with the woman under the bundle of we-don't-know-what. Every shot in this town makes you feel like a photographer for National Geographic.
A sample of the Aguilar family pottery.
Always a tough decision to get home again, Shall I take the bull...
or shall I take the bus? Notice the paving on the road, it's only in front of the church. If you scroll back to where the lady is walking with the big green bundle and whee the bulls are, that is the end of the paved road, a few feet away.
Pottery has been around for millenia, but alebrijés has been around only since the 1950's. There have been arguments on both sides, "is it art?". My stand is if someone made it and they call it art, then it's art. However, if 150 families in Arrazola make it and they all make the same turtle with a day-glow daisy on its back then it's not art, it's a souvenir. Today we did see one family who in my opinion were beating their own drum. The colors were earthy and muted, the designs were of pictographs and glyphs. The animals were more indigenous. I have to say penguins and giraffes in the Oaxaca Valley...I don't think so! I asked where they get their inspiration and he answered from tv and books. If it is not coming from themselves and their own experience they are missing the point of being an artist.
Of course you start with a macheté on a green piece of Copal wood. The people in this valley have over farmed the wood and had to go to a neighboring area. Those people were not happy about this. A botanist came recently and taught them how to reforest. If the wood is green it's soft to carve, the older the wood (once it's cut down) the harder it gets.
Bandolin is now whittling. He uses a regular mat knife to work on the wings for his "Day of the Dead" flying angel.
I'm holding his flying angel. There are 15 families involved in this non-profit co-op to make and sell alebrijés. 5% of what they earn goes back to planting more Copal trees. It's a total family affair. Men carve, women paint the designs and children help out where they can also.
Here's a collection from one family.
The guys in our group are such charmers with the ladies. Michael is speaking Spanish to the daughters of the Aguilar family who a first peered at us from behind railings, then after a few cookies from Celeste, they were coaxed down. They followed us to the bus to say good-bye.One of our professors, an anthropologist from University of Oregon took us to a town she knew. The families make COMALES. A flat open plate that you cook on. When they have more time they make other fanciful creatures, bowls plates, vases etc. As we drove by all the people in the fields were elderly. There are no men in the town in their 20's to 60's. One of the sadder things about Mexico is the men have all left to go look for work in America. In Mexico there are whole towns without men, or towns without anyone at all. While we were at the market of Tlacolula, we saw all the women waiting on line at the bank window to pick up money sent from America. So back home here, they do what they can to help make ends meet.
Well by now you know we don't drive on paved roads. We are going to a little village outside of Tlacolula, which is a small town outside of Oaxaca.
Here's the shed for cooking and storing the clay, it's in the main courtyard of the property. Angie has to duck to get out, the mule is to the eft, chickens and dogs are running around. A lovely domestic chaotic scene.
Dr. Stephanie Wood, our fearless leader tries to communicate with the woman under the bundle of we-don't-know-what. Every shot in this town makes you feel like a photographer for National Geographic.
A sample of the Aguilar family pottery.
Always a tough decision to get home again, Shall I take the bull...
or shall I take the bus? Notice the paving on the road, it's only in front of the church. If you scroll back to where the lady is walking with the big green bundle and whee the bulls are, that is the end of the paved road, a few feet away.
Of course you start with a macheté on a green piece of Copal wood. The people in this valley have over farmed the wood and had to go to a neighboring area. Those people were not happy about this. A botanist came recently and taught them how to reforest. If the wood is green it's soft to carve, the older the wood (once it's cut down) the harder it gets.
Bandolin is now whittling. He uses a regular mat knife to work on the wings for his "Day of the Dead" flying angel.
I'm holding his flying angel. There are 15 families involved in this non-profit co-op to make and sell alebrijés. 5% of what they earn goes back to planting more Copal trees. It's a total family affair. Men carve, women paint the designs and children help out where they can also.
Here's a collection from one family.Monday, July 26, 2010
Eating in Teotitlan del Valle
Weaving and Eating in Teotitlan del Valle
The Zapotecs were already weaving cotton and when the Spanish got here wool was introduced. Just like in China, taxes were paid with bundles of loomed cloth. Every 3 months a family gave 400 bundles of embroidered cotton and 800 loads of loomed cotton. We set off today to see a town that has existed as a sacred place for over 2,000 years. The town has poverty but also some millionaires because decorators and even "Pier 1" has commissioned rugs from the weavers. Women here set up a co-op to keep the commissions made to themselves. They learned how to apply for permits, run a business and be in charge.
Designs are traditional and modern, as any good artist knows you have to get the right images for the right market. To get to this point, you need...
to wash and card the wool well.
This dye is made from fermented walnut bark. It ferments for a week, then boiled to just the right temperature. After that, the liquid from the fermented bark is added to the spun wool.
This ladies' co-op had a traditional pedal loom and back strap loom (I couldn't get a pic).
NOW LUNCH! We came to the home of a family that was known to this week's professor, Dr. Lynn Stephen an anthropologist. She lived with these people years ago and has had some of the town's children–she has 10 god-children here–come to school in Oregon (she works at the Univ. of Oregon). This abuela is making sauce for our lunch...
her daughter is making tortillas (two at a time on the press) for our quesadillas which were filled with queso (cheese) and squash blossom flowers...
here is the kitchen. No sub-zero fridge, fancy granite counters...everyone lives outdoors all year long. There is nothing but a corrugated tin roof overhead and no walls. Sopa (soup) is in the big pot in front, it's made from green vegetables with some kind of root vegetable in it. Delicioso!
Here's part of our group, about 8 people had to sit at another table behind me. The rugs made in this family are hanging on the walls behind. They cost $750 to $1,500 pesos ($50 to $120US) THINK, hand-carded, hand-spun, hand-dyed, hand-woven for what only $120 US?
OK Now we get to eat---mole (chocolate, spices etc.) on your chicken and rice. I ate everything.
When we got on the bus and it was time to wave good-bye to our gracious hosts, this young man was coaxing a reluctant donkey loaded with sugar cane down the road.
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