The Art of Memory

Memories are powerful.  They often make us hold on to objects for a long time.  They make us move forward and backwards.  I rather hear people talk than talk.

Some memories are corrupted and others can pass as hallucinations.  In the end they are all subjective.  I think of memories as trees.  In Reynosa, the trees were painted white with cal so the tree would last the winter or plague; anything.  I often think about doing the same thing to memories.  I want to protect the little bits I can remember. 

And I often join them all in a world that only exists within me which I paint so it can exist outside of me.

Rio Grande Bravo

So here it is, finished.  I will always enjoy painting/ drawing the Rio Grande Bravo since it's a place I can say I'm closely related to for spending most of my life crossing it.  I hardly believe in miracles or wish for anything.  I often just think: things would be nicer if such and such thing would happen.  But, if I were to pray for anything, wish for something or just hope, it will be for the water in Rio Grande Bravo to be born again.

The dark weather is coming

Rain, cold fronts and the unexpected hurricane always show up in August and September.  For the longest time, I had not seen lighting.  I had not felt my legs hurt with a change of winds.  More changes are coming in the next days that will be a relieve from the horrible heat we have right now but I know I will miss it once its gone. 
The mesquite trees are the only ones that do not get affected by any change.  They stay green throughout the whole entire year.  Everything else dries easily here because of the heat or cold weather.  There are times that I hear people say how they wish the valley would change colors...the leaves fall and become all white.  There is no change here and I wonder if this is a good or bad.  I wonder if the young prefer change and the old prefer stability. 
The Rio Grande Bravo has changed in the course of years.  People say it was prettier back then when the water was cleaner.  I still say its a marvelous monster that makes you feel tiny and consumes your life for a moment.  We might have changed it but I wonder when it will change us because after all we cannot control it and never will.  We might use it to our advantage but once it gives up on us what will it do to humanity? 

 

The Rio Grande Bravo is unique because it has been used for unnatural purposes.  It is a body of water used to separate two countries that has been filled with bodies and drugs which are things that have stained its image.  I had never gotten close to until someone about three years ago wanted a painting of el Chalan.  I had the opportunity to cross the Rio Grande Bravo without a bridge and without fear.  I remember looking at the sky and all around me realizing for the first time it was a river, one that was beautiful.

This time I remembered a phrase my mom used to say when the cold weather would come "el cielo esta aborregado."  I will not try to translate not because I can't but because it is useless.  Meanings always get lost when they travel through languages.  I rather explain it.  People use this phrase when the sky has clouds carrying ice.  These clouds form the shapes of sheep and from there comes the word "aborregado" from "borrego" or sheep.

In my first and only visit to el Chalan, the sky was "aborregada" and this is why I realized that I had never painted the Rio Grande Bravo when a cold front was coming in.  Cold fronts always make me think more about the water.  Is the water cold?

I still need to define the painting more but here is the start. 

Darkness in the Making

 

It is interesting all the colors seen at night.  I have often seen the sky turn red and at other times tones of gray.  I have found the lights seen at night affect the way we see the sky and everything around us.  What I just stated is nothing new.  What else could they do if they are placed there to purposely affect the surrounding environment we place them in.  But each night is different.  The variables are after all nature and the light is the constant.
 Even though we put lights to illuminate to have some control of our environment, there is no such thing as a light seen every night the same. 

Been Thinking About Dark Roads

Been thinking about dark roads but also the lights generated at night.  Some so far away that they could be anything.  I love to watch them. 
I enjoy the uneasyness that comes when traveling at night and you come close to the lights of cities and how they move away.  It is the uncertainty that frightens me and makes me want to keep watching them. 
Humans and lights have a vast history that revolve around fantastical stories and irrationalities that people believe still in this century. 

I remember stories of witches turning into lights. 
I remember during christmas people walking in the streets with candles at posadas.  I remember
the black and white movie of Macario where the light of the candle signified life.  I remember the believes of Dia de los Muertos where the light of the candles would guide them to their home
to the food they loved to eat
to their homes
to their loved ones
to their memories
to their previous life.

I remember how one day our neighbor called us thinking they saw a UFO and we got in our car to go and see it.  Crazy but true.  Up close it happen to be a GoodYear Air Ballon.

Lights can be anything.  I believe they are man made often.  I believe everything people have said about them and what people will still have to say.

In Memory of Gloria Anzaldua

My work will be presented at UTSA 2011 Symposium Theory of the Flesh.  I am glad to say this artwork shown above was chosen to represent  this event.  This drawing was inspired by Gloria Anzaldua the most influential Chicana/ Border writer.