23, Feb, 2016

My first view of Mexico on Feb 13th. I did not blog while I was there as I had decided to not bring my computer. I was interesting to see how much time I spend with it.  I took a lot of images yet not as many as I could have. I wanted at times to just remember.  I went to the church on Sunday the 14th. It is a beautiful place, the mass was in english and Spanish. After many people took photos in the church, I almost did but felt like I was invading the peace of the people praying. Many tourist did take photos, phones flashing every where, it just got me thinking. I have no conclusion yet.

the 22nd of Febuary, 2016

I am so tired. Today I taught, but didn’t teach. I had the 3D printer lab guys come in, to talk to the students about what’s up in 3D printing. Then I taught, really taught, Beginning Drawing.  I told the student about my fears on the trip. How I understood them better now, as I was in a printing class doing techniques I really knew nothing about, some of which I had never heard of. While the other students knew print making, I was a beginner in a major way.

My biggest fear on the trip, was not being out of the US while being unable to speak the language, or being robbed,or drinking the wrong water, or any of the other terrible things people warned me about. No it was “fear of paper”. Fear of paper is real, this blank 48 x 50 inch paper, worth $6, with all its empty whiteness just about killed me. More on that later.

I talked to the class about a drawing I am trying to make of the old woman at the bus stop that helped me, laughing sweetly the whole time. I was a lost kid. How do I go about drawing from memory a face, etched in my mine but not on paper, nor did I take a camera picture of her. I wanted to, but wondered if I would have been rude to do so.  It was such a beautiful momment. It reminded me of a Jordanian man telling me,  we should remember in our mind,  how the air moved, what that minute smelled like, and what one felt, rather than taking a picture. So I didn’t steal part of her soul with my camera. I will draw her from memory. If I can.

I keep thinking about the continuious change the world goes through. I read several articles on the up coming presidential election. I can not believe Trump has gotten this far. Maybe we could just put a wall around Trump, to keep us safe.

I kept thinking all day, what a short trip I had in Mexico, but how happy and greatful I am for having gone. When I was 18, in college, there was this guy, I thought I loved. We talked of going to Mexico. We plan it, atleast I thought we had. So I quit my jobs, gave up my apartment and was ready to go.  I went to his room and he was gone. No note, no good bye. I was lost, shocked, I walked to a poetry reading and Philosphical discussion, on the meaning and question of jealousy at a book store, given by a group called the Shelly Poets. I do not know why I went, nor do I know why they have decided on this topic. I think I needed to fill in space right then, and it was next door.

There were other times I wanted to go to Mexico, but could not. This time I went, but a week was way to short. One reason I wanted to go,  I would not be traveling alone. I would be with a group. I am a single person in the world, and wonder, if its possible to decided anything when people are involved.

This was my room in Mexico.roomlizard

This was the lizzard outside my window, please note, I was on the 3rd floor and it was in a tree.

And for now good night as I slip once again into a benydrl sleep.

 

The twenty first of Febuary

There were years that I traveled, had adventures, basicly got lost in countries where I knew neither the language,or the customs, or where the bus stop was. Yesterday was like that. I was in Mexico.

Today, I am home. As I write this,laying in bed, nake and sleepy, I must say, I love my apartment, but still wish I could have stayed in that beautiful place of friendly kind people.

I took an art class in Puerto Vallarta and will write more in the next few days about what I learned about art, printing, people, beauty, laughter, myself, and how strange it is to see Donald Trump dubbed in spainish.

I had spent several days with people I became close to for a moment in life, hope to see again, but knowing what I do, it is always up to us to make those ties knot together.

Yesterday, I was alone. I had travel alone in Europe, and the middle east, had that same, frighten momment of, what the fuck did I get myself into this time, where am I, can I find my way back.

I wanted to see the Jardin Botanico in Puerto Vallarta. I had a small map given to me by Michelangelo (real name later). Written on the top: Jaridin Botanico, followed by a map,or rather lines for streets but no names, and an x for the church where the stop was. So I went, that part was easy. I got to the small church, then asked for directions to the bus stop. All directions in Mexico are 3 blocks, this way or that. I kept showing my paper to people, bus drivers, anyone, everyone and always the same answer, 3 blocks. So I walked, 3 blocks in every direction, saw kids playing, laughing, people eating, working, tourist lost and angery with each other, always “you said you knew where it was”,  local stores and people cooking  from small carts, old cars, VW bugs, trucks full of large porpane tanks, driving fast on cobble stone narrow streets from a century pasted, buses, many buses.In this part of town, their were less tourist, so less weird things for sale and more food.  The white bus sent me to the orange bus, where I waited in a line, when it was full, it pulled away as someone was getting on. An american husband and wife team fighting, again about directions. Next bus, driver directed me back to the white buses. Not one, said Jardin Botanico. Then I saw, what I had been looking for, it pulled me from accross the road through traffic, like a rope tired to my eyes…..the prefect sandel. Last summer, I must had tried on 3 dozen, but my short fat feet with high arches that are actually two different sizes, never really fit anything, much like the rest of my body. My feet finally fit into a pair of hand made leather summer shoes. The man who made them had hands like my grandfather. Used hands, with wide, strong palms, and tractile fingers. 300 peso, $15 USD, awesome, my price range for shoes goes up to $35 for converse and I panic beyond that for anything but art supplies. The shoe maker directed me to the bus stop, where I waited.

The whole time I was in Mexico, everyone spoke spanish to me, I hated saying, I do not speak spanish, sometimes, when spoken slowly, I got the idea of what was said. Watching carefully helps. At the bus stop the most beautiful mayan woman, some where around age 80, began to try and help me. This time I had not asked for direction, I was at the bus stop the cobble directed me to, (I thought), I’m good,  I got this, I’ll wait, I had new shoes on, all was right with the world. Lost again, and I did not even notice. She looked at my paper, we laughted at it, the map, the lines, bearly readable because my hand sweat was erasing the pencil marks. First she flag down a cab, but the driver shake his head, then she talked to a young woman who spoke english. Go down the street 3 blocks to the store and buy a ticket then go to the other side.DSC_0166 and wait.

more later, the benadryl has taken over my ability to spell

 

 

The Eighth of February

I have not written or posted anything for a while. Busy, no photo shop etc…

So here is some of what happened.

Tony came to my sculpture class. He showed the student how to work the stone.

Then there was the bronze cast of the high school student work. More images when the work is finished.  DSC_0150

Then there is some work I did. This is my night time, in bed, drawing. It is unfinished

unfinished

More drawing

Then there was some glassblowing.cane

Then,  the Breast cups, blown glass, made for those who have lost their breast, cancer, I wanted to send their breast to heaven on a cloud.MF01.