New York Studio School

On June 9th, I was given the opportunity to attend a Drawing Marathon at the New York Studio School.  This school focuses primarily on studying the figure and its context within a contemporary art world.  It is not about drawing like a photo printer would but creating space, volume and more so an integral composition.

 

Joseph Santore made it crucial for each student to push themselves to their limits.  He often mentioned how we all came a long way to fall into doing what we had been told to do all along in our art career.  We were there seeking things yet we still wanted to attack the drawing the same way.  If he was not going person to person giving feedback, he was at the library looking up books for us to view.  He was merciless with his comments which I appreciated.  There is nothing more gratifying for me than to be told the truth.  He would leave you alone if he saw your direction and he would comment when he saw none.  He made us think and use our educated ways to make the right decisions.  His opening speech on the first day of class talked about that fifth mark every one makes believing it is the first one on the paper.  The reality that the paper already holds four lines for you and now you will make that fifth one that will determine ratio.  He extended the concept into how this fifth line will determine all other lines.  It will test you in decision making, make you doubt about form and will push you to see something which is so familiar like an arm to become an alienated form. 

The media used were vine charcoal and acrylic paint.  We also incorporated mixed media using tape to draw.  This exercise impressed me in how it slows down the drawing process.  It makes you find the figure within the space of the paper before you mark it. 
One of the things I wanted to achieve in the New York Studio School was to create subtle transitions and draw large compositions.  I was able to achieve the latter on the third day.  I felt freedom at last when I was able to cut a large sheet of paper.  Then, I realized how my marks used to find space get out of control.  I am forced to draw all over the paper with dark strokes and disregard tonal values for the sake of linear accuracy.  One of the my drawings I felt immensely impressed which contained an amount of control and the patience needed for an erase-and-create rhythm. 
During this class, I was able to meet people in different stages of their art career: some not even out of high school, on their first to second year of their bachelor's degree, completing their master's, changing their career and trying to make it work for sake of art and already established artists.  Every single one of them inspired me to create.  I had not been in the classroom for a very long time and being back again with a group of students was refreshing. 

While in New York, I visited MOMA, Guggenheim, Met, and the Museum of Natural History.  All of them removed me from a shell I had put myself in for a long time now.  I felt at times lonely not because I was by myself, but because everyone around me seem indifferent to the value each piece possessed which I concluded in those days only an artist could be capable of feeling this emotion.  There were tourist wanting to run back home and say they attended these museums and claim they now where within the educated circle.  I saw children being persuaded to like Degas because he too liked ballerina tutus.  I took with me my camera and a small travelling notebook where I noted painting and drawing techniques.  My shoulder's tighten and by the end of three days my body could not take it anymore, but I continued even though I caused more than one stare from strangers that could not decipher what I wrote.  I wrote those tonal changes I had been wanting to achieve, color schemes I needed to remember and the freedom of their strokes.  None of these things can be captured by a camera.  Nonetheless, I took pictures when allowed and reviewed them in disbelief of the lie the camera told. 

I brought home many maps with crossed out sections I covered those days and with items from interactive installations.  One by one I will write as I can wanting like always to piece things together.

Los de aca tambien se mueren

 

It came to me that I could no longer wait for the violence to stop at the border so I could cross and see the cemeteries.  I just could not stop for time to go by and allow for things to settle.  It is not like dirt that rises when a car passes by. 

I made the decision to act upon what I said.  Many times I talked about transculturation and here I was not wanting to go to the cemeteries here in this side of the valley.  I felt there were not substantial or worthy.  It was not until I googled the cemeteries and their names seemed Mexican, indian and not all of them were Americanized.  This is when I realized that "Los de aca tambien se mueren" pobres without anyone putting restrictions on their last morada.

I went to several cemeteries being guided by satellite pictures which help be identify a Mexican inspired cemetery verses an Americanized one. 

I took pictures not knowing how I will try to address this new similar, but different landscape.  I came with terms with it and felt at home.  Here I found little bits of Mexico unable to build the same place but the little bits formed memories of Reynosa.  The names resembled patience and love. The everyday reusable items made my heart grow.

I have many stories that sound supernatural and at the same time captivating.  One were we see a women walking with no apparent reason.  At other times, those magical dogs that take me to prehistoric times where the dogs were a symbol of loyalty even in death.