07 August 2010
Suenos de Atzlan: Showtime!
Packing out the Casa Azul always seems to take days to disengage and get it all in the Mariachi Mobile. Saying adios to Emi and Spencer and missing them before I've even turned the corner. The long 11 hour drive home is different because I have a Mexican cat with papers : ) She ends up sitting on my lap most of the way. Charms the border guards and we cross the lines with no more than a blink of an eye. It's a relief. The old road from Polomas is being repaved. The roadside shrines that have been my markers along the curves have been blown up in the name of progress... I wave goodbye to St. Jude wondering if he'll be gone the next time I cross back over. It makes me feel sentimental. Roads change everything. The volcanic landscape green from the rains- it is so hard to leave when the world is so beautiful and the headlines of the day don't seem to exist when the natural world is resplendent in the natural patterns of the seasons.
I don't get to my northern home til midnight after driving through the beautiful landscapes of western New Mexico with the kitty on my lap/ on my head/ walking across the dashboard; draped over the steering column; under my feet. How do I explain the new world she's about to encounter? How far we are from our humble life in el Pueblo. I watch the plateau of Northern Arizona lay open as I pass through St. John to Holbrook. Country western and old 80's rocks on the ipod. I tuned into KUYI radio. I pause by the upper reaches along the banks of the Little Colorado and think of sacred corn floating downstream in currents of red sands, swirling down, down to the confluence of the main stem of the Colorado to merge back to the sea and follow the path of rain back into clouds; to be drawn again to the land by the songs of ancient spirits and mythic Gods of nature. I follow Thaloc and the plumed serpent's movements in clouds and turn west to the San Francisco Peaks; the Sacred mountain calls.
Showtime. I always have a BLOCK to except how much time goes into a show. Months; years; thousands of photographs. Moments I want to share. Ideas. Stories. Editing. and more editing. Printer gremlins and late night inspirations.
Studiolandia. A repository of my life before Mexico. The dust grows in layers of the seasons to be brushed away.Running helps me to print. Jason takes down Chip's show. He finds the perfect coca cola red. Print. edit. print. Peter discovers the mysterious 300 G of comprised space on the hard drive; printing; framing;jump drives and photoshop marathons; editing and archiving; remembering; faces; stories. the wind in the sierra prairies; rain Gods and thunder; Living with the work; moving it around. Prints on tables. on the floor. on the walls. The work goes from studio to studio- images fly around; different stories are told in the sequencing- I want to include more stories. Jason makes the call. Go with the flow. it feels like a miracle when it all comes together.5 pm. We hi-5 over beans and rice. una.dos.tres. We could never imagined coordinating the events on the square as I move through the folklorico dancers; young flowers blooming in the summer monsoon. Los Compadres warms up the ambiante;my dad brings me roses and jason laces them into the fence. the musica begins. friends and familia. the stories are shared. laughter. sentimental tears. clowns and serpents. there are few pictures to show the reconnections of so many layers of Flagstaff's community. At 11pm the lights go down and the first drops of a beautiful rain.