ON THE VERGE

Last year as we prepared for our senior art show it was suggested we seek professors who were not so familiar with our work and get varying perspectives on it. One of the professors who saw my work really loved my palette and asked me to describe it, “they're (my colors) a bit like earth tones kicked up a notch,” I suggested. “Yeah!” he said excitedly, “they are like earth tones on acid...” This remains perhaps my favorite description of my work and ever since then I've thought of my colors as such. Well, it seems my colors are on the verge of overdose.

It is hard for that not to be the case when you are in a place where color is so intense. Where you have never seen a blue that is more blue, or a green so varied and intense in the midday sun. And every house is a different color, intense as the sun, the ocean, the land. The tropic is alive and it seems it has infected me; and just like the spirit of my figure is seeping out into the atmosphere, it appears the tropical atmosphere has seeped back into my soul.

I had forgotten how much I love blue. I love it in its intensity that reminds us we came from water millennia ago and just so we come from an ocean recreated again in the womb. For the first time in a long time blue is in my work. And it seems so strange and simultaneously exciting. It is impossible to be surrounded by water, by the sea of 7 colors, and not succumb to it. This work as such is Fluid.

The following pictures are approximations to the piece. The best I could do under the circumstances and with the equipment available to me. The red tones are pretty close but the blue is not quite right. Still I hope you enjoy.



The tropic is alive. It is intoxicating. It is within. I am on the verge.

THANKSGIVING

Every so often something happens that reminds me just how little and also how much I know.

The night before last we had dinner with a couple of Swiss people we met on the island. One of them was in Providencia for a couple of days only, as she had come to Colombia to look at some projects that the organization she works for funds indirectly. This meant that she had been to lots of places in Colombia I have only dreamed of going, a lot of war-torn places, that are beautiful and unique but with an incredible amount of suffering.

She talked about these places and the situations people where in, and confessed she had been so surprised and impressed. Karina (that was her name) has traveled through most of Latin America, and always thought that Colombia being a much wealthier place than most of its neighboring countries, probably did not need as much foreign support as say Bolivia or Peru. But upon leaving the major cities she discovered the extent to which war has affected the country, leaving displaced people everywhere, with an incredible lack of education. I know about this, but when she was talking about it in detail I felt so ignorant, to me it is abstract, to her having come from 4 weeks of traveling around Colombia it was specific

She was so impressed though with the programs that have been set up by community leaders, a lot of them priests, who are doing a lot with very little to help their community. She was surprised that a lot of these priests were not even concerned to push religion on people but just wanted to help. This made me happy to hear.

I told her about my mixed feelings about Colombia, about how I feel I don't really know my country any more and that I don't have the necessary tools to try and effect any sort of change. She said, trust me you know so much about your country, so much more than other people and you should trust yourself and your instincts.

She then told me about what had surprised her the most, the spirit of Colombian people. This I know. She said she was surprised that amidst war and lack of resources people seemed to be in generally high spirits, that this was not the case in a lot of the countries she visited where a sense of hopelessness and resignation exists. Karina was amazed at the resilience and strength of people. This I know. She finally confessed that it seemed to her after being all around Latin America and only coming to Colombia for the first time on this trip, that Colombian people were the nicest and most warm people she had met in Latin America. This I did not know. It felt nice to hear it though.

The conversation with Karina made me realize how much of who I am and the way I approach life is distinctly Colombian. Despite the fact that I have spent now a considerable amount of time in the US and that a lot of my ideas and approach to life has been influenced and affected by the US point of view, my core is distinctly Colombian. And again I felt so proud of being Colombian at that moment; of being part of a group of people that are warm and welcoming, loving and more than anything extremely hopeful. And then I gave thanks.

THE CHILDREN OF PROVIDENCIA

Every day when we go to lunch as we walk down one block to the beach we see children getting home from school to have lunch, riding their bikes, waiting at the pre-school to be picked up by parents. They laugh and shriek and really bring the middle of the day alive.

The children of Providencia are really wonderful. They steal your heart, and they are not shy about it. They will yell hi at you as you walk by, ask your name, and sometimes even demand you take pictures of them if they see you with your camera.

This has happened to me twice. Once when some older boys were playing and, as they left, the oldest brother told the youngest he was too young to go with them to the mountain to fly kites. So that the youngest boy was left sitting on a crate in front of his house as 5 or 6 boys left playing (who as a younger sibling can't sympathize with this?). As I was about to leave, the youngest boy started saying hello to me and smiled at me as he said, “No le tomes fotos a ellos! Tomamelas a mi!” Don't take pictures of them! Take pictures of me! He sat on his crate happy to be the center of attention,


and when he was bored he said “ok chao.” Bye. A two-year-old comfortable bossing around a twenty-two-year-old.

Once as I walked to the beach to take pictures of the ocean the entire pre-school stuck their heads out and started screaming for me to come in and take pictures of them. Miss Vicky who runs the pre-school, at once welcomed me in and said I didn't have to take pictures of them, but that they really loved it when people took pictures. So I proceeded in, (which meant that I was still outside), to take pictures of them as they ate their mid-morning snack.

Some made faces at me



some posed comfortable being the center of attention




some a little more shyly



some not caring enough to stop eating their snack





or to stop playing and talking with friends




They all yelled bye and still as we walk to lunch they will wave and smile.

It seems like the average family in Providencia is on the larger side. Our waitress Suzette's boyfriend has 16 siblings, it is true he is probably in his 40s and families are smaller now but you still see about 5 or 6 children per family. So that it makes sense that these children are used to having to demand some attention. And the tourists with their cameras and amazement at their comfortable laughter are a perfect source of it. But it also seems like they are used to this outside attention enough that they feel comfortable not always having to pose if they don't want to. They sometimes choose to keep hanging out and eating their candy rather than smile at you






And even if they asked you take their picture as an entire class once asked me, sometimes they quickly forget about it and go back to what they were doing.



These children who are uninhibited and generally have grown up in the way my mother often describes her childhood, running around streets with few cars, playing sports in the middle of the street, making up games with kites and floating ships, with tons of neighbors, coming home at sunset for dinner, seems quite lovely. It is true that probably getting to be a teenager in this island where there are no movie theaters and only one street could seem frustrating (although it must be nice to have your own mode of transportation by the time you are 12), but for a young child who is still not totally aware of what else is required of life than playing, loving and eating Providencia with its warm people and safe, somewhat wild environment seems like a nice place to be. And so the children oscillate between acknowledging your presence,



and quietly enjoying the sunset

BODY MOVING

I like bodies in motion. The manifestation of energy in our bodies. Our world is in constant motion, as are our bodies; working even when we sleep. As a people moving through history, through time, through memories, a huge spiral with a common center.

The body has emerged.

My process often seems counterintuitive if not counterproductive. I spend large amounts of time on details,



which are so time consuming,





working within a structure that to me has its own rules and guidelines and starts to create a being that while abstract still is ever more present to me. So true to itself in its most basic and true sense.



Each section so carefully planned so that it may fit together;



only to be covered up. I choose colors, only to put others on top, and it seems strange but this is the way colors work, layers create depth and the translucent water color builds itself just as much from what is at the bottom as what is on top. So that while this might seem so different from its previous iteration,



it would be impossible to arrive to it without its base. And the funny thing is that even after applying the last layer of color I returned to remove some color and create a glow. The process involves constant change, addition and subtraction simultaneously, a give and take.

A coffee layer on the body connects individual pieces and brings out the flesh that supports this universe. Obfuscating some things and highlighting others



creating new textures as it combines what was previously there with what has been added



creating complex landscapes that speak of energy bursting out of the body



dripping heavily and strangely.



Hopefully becoming more whole, more beautiful, more complex with each layer, both obfuscating its past self, but only possible because of it. The piece might not look at all like this when I'm finished, but look at it because, much like with ourselves, traces of this self will still be there when it is done.



The body keeps moving.

CONCEPTIONS - PART I : MOTOS

The following is the first of a four part series of posts dealing with the difference in conceptions around everyday living in the island of Providencia, in comparison with life in Bogota or in the US. These posts, which will be spread out in the next couple of weeks but which will not necessarily be posted one after the other, will explore the difference in my conception of a certain idea and what I've experienced as the prevailing idea in the island. How has my set of experiences in a completely different environment with different sets of rules affect my understanding of an idea; an idea that once having seemed so absolute, suddenly is shattered by new experiences and presents itself as a creation rather than a truth. Here it goes; Part I: Motos.

I now drive a Moto. A moto is short for motocicleta-motorcycle and it basically includes all 2 wheeled motorized vehicles including our scooter. You might think that driving a scooter does not qualify as driving a motorcycle but since in the US no one makes a distinction between driving an automatic car and driving a manual car, they simply drive a car, I am going to just say I drive a moto.

Up until now I had a very specific idea of the type of people who rode motorcycles. The general idea always associated to motorcycle gangs or at least. especially after living in Williamstown, groups of middle-aged men with huge Harley's. But in Providencia where barely anyone has a car and public transportation is rare everyone drives a moto. A moto stops being linked to a style choice, a statement about lifestyle, and it becomes simply a mode of transportation.

It is a way to get to school



A way to transport one's family





Meant to be driven on the road



on the beach



and into the woods



It is used to get groceries and general purchases



whatever those may be



Boys drive them



girls drive them



older women


and men too



Made-up women going to meet up with friends (the absolute best Providencia-moto moment had to be the time we saw two women with rollers on their head driving next to eachother gossiping)



perhaps on their way to work



A man running an errand for his wife



There are those who ask you to mind your business



And those who offer you a ride



Or simply continue on their way, whatever that may be.



And ultimately in Providencia everyone is just going from one place to another, or hanging out by the side of the road chatting with people. Still, they ride their motos around a single street, with no implication attached to that fact. Motos become a convenient way to get around this small island and even I, who have always had a certain dislike of bikes, have to admit that feeling the wind on your face as you zoom by in the middle of the afternoon feels fantastic.