16 January 2011

First prints and the Eternal flame






I was feeling an inertia and sense of melancholy when I returned back to Casas Grandes after Jason left and the sense of return and life changes - some heart ache and wondering what is it when you feel a long night ahead ; or those 3 am walk abouts and dark lit coffee. The unexpected visitors - how they lifted my spirit up - hundreds of images later and a having to alas discard my old epson printer after the Suenos de Aztlan show I feel I owe it a memorial dis-assemblage ; maybe even a makeover at the Chicas Bravas : ) anyways new printer, new drivers and fiinding the right usb cable I was finally in action. So with the end of the year and the beginning I wanted to make my first images of hope... of my shy friends; their youth, beauty, and the people from whom they come from how I hope what is of essence will survive....


Here's a view of real Mexico and the people who come from her sierras.



I also enjoyed making this portrait of the ranch manager whose name escapes me at the moment... I want to say Santiago , at Rancho Cerro Colorado; He's been there for years; He was the gardener I photographed earlier and then I realize he knows this ranch most of his life as I left contemplating his portrait with a sombrero vs a gardener's hoe. I do a portrait of him and his son Miguel. I show them photos of sustainable building examples made with bottles and adobe... I see the lights go on. I wish I could learn how to make an occitillo fence from them : ) they are sooo cool... and I like that they can grow...

I stand in the old tack room full of history and memoir of a different time and place -

I was reading Carlos Fuentes last night from a book Sal Gal gave me for Christmas. Finally to just sit with a book; and pictures and powerful words... HOw to write to see like that!!! Images I still sometimes see but less and less even now. Can I have regrets about the times I am living in? To know each festival may not come back again next year... As I turn the book's pages, Bresson's black and white pictures under the brilliant blue of Mexico sky; the naked trees with a few golden dried leaves and pigeons cooing in the setting light I think of these words and this music I now play over and over.... the Chinese 6 year old; the orchestra; the violia and violin version.. the father/daughter duet.... It pours out of the CAsa Azul and squeezes some salt out of my eyes ; I just can't help it....

one hopes for different endings ; or thought the story would go some other way - and when you're all alone with music and words and feel the depth of resignation to just feel it for all it is... how would have what I would have seen been different ? how does one just create again?
listen and look around...

I think of Dkish's 40 birthday and I think Bennett would have been 62?? birth - heaven? a life time of memories - what do we record as photographers ? as lovers of light? and dark? what inspires us to blow on the flame or have it be breathed into us? I wonder about Dkish's climbing trip - making coffee in the mornings - and waking up in nature ; we are just on either side of the fence and maybe 5 hours away from each other...so I send her an email ; a fb shout out; look at all our funny fotos; and I wish I could just give her a big ol hug and make her stuffed chiles and toast to her Birthday with Sotol - so close, so faraway and yet right here with me because of the music and the pictures...and the love we share doing it.....

I heard this story about Haitian violinist, Remal Joseph; it inspired me while working on these images ; it was truly a moving piece of music and story of a life still inspired ; if you get a chance check it out. Passion, grace, desire to create and recreate and rise up against the odds - I was listening to HOPI radio and then just had to stop, listen, and take to heart this story...this music; Oh how much time does one really have?? not enough I am sure so best to stay doing something even if it's wrong as Emi would say... she's the Queen so she must know!

just like Carlos Fuentes writes for Bresson's photo essays in Mexico....
" The wounds of Mexico heal for one moment so that the world takes shape beneath the watchful eye of the artist. The answer could be found in the sum of moments discovered by the invisible butterfly that is the photographer, which ends up alighting on a portrait of eternity without meaning to - for time, said Plato, is nothing but eternity on the move. To render simultaneously the movement of the moment and the immobility of the eternal could be a way of the forming a poetic destiny."


Just found these from two years ago.










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