RED at A.Smith Gallery

A friend of mine just bought this image. She was thinking about another image she had seen on my Pbase site. I asked her to take a look at this one because I like it a lot and I thought she might too. Those eyes, that direct look, and the wonderful face paint. It was pretty dark when I took it during the Day of the Dead celebration. I was afraid that it might end up blurry but the photo angels were there and it turned out okay.

She isn't the only one, besides me, who likes this image. Aline Smithson is the curator for Red at the A.Smith Gallery in Johnson City, Texas. A.Smith Gallery is a wonderful photography gallery but it is has also hung some amazing exhibitions and created a community of photographic artist. It is an honor to be included by Smithson with so many other amazing photographers in this exhibition. Red will be open from April 1 to May 15, with a reception on April 30. If you are in the Austin area, do yourself a favor and go see the exhibition.

A Different Halloween

I innocently went into town last night with my camera and a bag of candy. It was Halloween and I was remembering all of the Halloweens when Ned and I made reservations for dinner and after dinner went to the San Francisco Hotel and sat in the bar where we could see out the door. The first few years there would be a few children who painted their faces or wore a costume that they probably also wore in the Locos parade. They were out looking for candy from the gringos. Sometimes it would be three or four boys about seven to eleven years old running in a pack. Or it might be an older sister shepherding her siblings and that might include a wide-eyed three year old on her first Halloween adventure. So cute. A few of the groups would notice us sitting inside the bar having a margarita and they would rush in holding out their plastic grocery bags for candy afraid that the management would rush them back out before they got their treat. We wanted to talk to them but all they wanted to say was 'hola' and 'gracias' and run back out to collect more goodies.

Then we started to see a few adults who were on their way to a party dressed in Victorian costumes with painted skeleton faces. But basically the Jardin was maybe a bit more crowded than most nights but not much.

Well, friends, things have changed and changed more than I realized. Now there are any number of Calaca events. Calaca is a colloquial Mexican Spanish name for skeleton or skull and you see it used mostly during events for the Mexican Day of the Dead festivals. Here in San Miguel it has turned into a three day holiday of events that are mostly initiated by the gringos. That is not to say that the Mexicans don't participate as well because I saw a lot of school children and young people wearing the calaca makeup but the gringos do seem to having a great time with the costumes and parties.

As I said, I innocently went into town about 5 PM expecting last night to be about the kids and candy. The Jardin was already very crowded. I can't imagine what it was like by 7 PM. I didn't stay. I walked on out to Fabrica Aurora for their art event. Surely if the Jardin was that full of people the Fabrica would not be so crowded. I was wrong again. It, too, was packed with people and Calacas. I had a great time wandering from studio to studio, looking at the art and stopping along the way to talk with friends.

Just about the time I decided that I better try to get a cab and head back across town I met my foto friend, Sally. She was ready to leave as well and invited me to join her for dinner at Don Lupe Grill with some other people that I knew. It was a fun Halloween but very different than what I expected.

In some ways I'm sad about the changes that are happening around Day of the Dead. As I thought about it after I got home last night I also remembered that I had gone to the cemetery yesterday morning and the traditional things were starting to happen. Trucks were coming in loaded with flowers, food and flower venders were setting up their tents. Families were starting to clean graves and repaint the names on the tombstones. Families were greeting friends and walking with each other to their family gravesites. The vendors of the sugar skulls and little animals are set up in town, the bakeries are baking the traditional bread and families are getting ready to make their home altars to honor and remember their loved ones.

So, in a sense, the Calaca festivals are like another layer on the traditional celebration of Day of the Dead. And I think I like the Calacas better than the connotation that Halloween has of haunted houses, malevolent ghosts and goblins who are sinister. The Calacas who walk among us in San Miguel, although they do remind us of death, are not evil spirits who are out to do us harm. Well, no harm unless we have one to many drinks with them at the festival.

I'm working on an altar for Ned. Yes, I have the tequila bottle sitting on it. I still need to buy some Snickers. I can't have him dropping by and not have Snickers for him. Snickers and tequila. That was my Ned.

The Halloween Candy Man

Since I built Ned an altar this week, I've been thinking a lot about him. This altar thing is a wonderful tradition and I hope it becomes more entrenched in the United States. It isn't attached to another holiday. It is just about remembering loved ones who have gone ahead of us. I was raised to take flowers to the cemetery at Easter and Mother's Day, Father's Day and Christmas. Not a bad thing to do but it was another thing to do along with cooking, cleaning and entertaining for the holiday.

Now Dia de los Muertos is a day all to itself. The thing you are remembering and celebrating is the life of the one you loved. And even better is that I can build my altar right in my own home and every time I see it I think about how much Ned loved his tequila and sangrita or red wine or Snickers. Yes, all of those things are on the altar. And yes, he would sometimes have a Snickers along with his tequila and of course with his red wine.

So, any way for the last couple of days I've been thinking about the good times. Like the time we had tiny Snickers bars for Trick or Treat. We didn't have many kids come by so Ned and Tom Robinson had a great evening eating the bag of Snickers and polishing off a bottle (or two) of red wine. I've been thinking of all the Date Nights we had in the Centro where we sat at a table in the San Francisco Café and watched life go by while we ate and drank and talked. I still don't know how a couple who are married as long as we were could still have anything to talk about but we did. I've been thinking about Port Aransas when the kids were young and we built bonfires on the beach while kids had wiener roasts and played games in the sand. I've been thinking about the great trips we took. Sometimes I even have to chuckle at some memory.

Some people think their loved ones return on Dia de los Muertos. I don't know whether that happens or not at this time. But I do know that I feel Ned's presence often and always when I  really need him.

This was Ned in the Jardin on Halloween, 2011. He had just finished a round of treatment in Houston and we had driven back in time for Dia de los Muertos. There were lots of kids and it was the last time he handed out candy for Halloween. Yes, that smiling man is my Ned.

Day of the Dead

Sometimes I think that globalization is watering down the traditions and customs of countries but there is a Mexican one that I've adopted and whether I'm living in Mexico or Texas, it is one that I plan to keep. It is Day of the Dead.

These days in Mexico it is getting commercialized with a sort of Halloween adaptation on October 31, with Calaca Festivals and Catrina parades on November 1 and 2. What kid wouldn't want to dress up and collect candy on Halloween. I understand the business community promoting events that will bring people into town to eat in restaurants and stay in hotels. The Day of the Dead I'm talking about is what happens in homes and with families.

About dark on November 1, I was walking into town. A door was partially open and I could see a small altar with candles, food and marigolds and even marigold petals sprinkled across the floor toward the door. Around the walls sat family members having a drink and talking. No doubt they were remembering loved ones.

On November 2, I went with some friends out in the campo, way out in the campo to a cemetery. We had to park on the road and walked about 1/2 mile on a rutted road with big potholes filled with the rain from the night before. There was one truck stuck in the mud and evidence that a few others had gunned the motor to escape other potholes. As we neared the cemetery vendors had set up stands to sell flowers, candles and food. Rancho dogs scooted in between the potholes and people to scrounge for tidbits accidentally dropped.

I took a deep breath when we walked through the gate of the cemetery. It was packed with people. It was so beautiful. Many families had turned the dirt on the grave so that it looked like it was a new grave. And flowers, not just marigolds but flowers of every kind and color from cosmos picked in the campo to stems of red gladiolas bought at a shop. Flowers in empty jalapeno cans and plastic bottles, huge round wreaths and even flowers stuck in the freshly turned earth.

Some family groups were visiting but most were gradually moving toward the far end of the cemetery where that was a three sided shed. They were waiting for the priest to arrive and for the Mass to begin.

Last year I had a large altar for Ned. This year was a little smaller. I decorated it with flowers, candles and some of my favorite pictures of him. Of course, I had red wine, his favorite tequila and Presidente Brandy. AND the biggest Snickers I could find. Many Mexicans believe that the spirit of the person comes back to visit during Day of the Dead. I think I always feel him by and a part of me but Day of the Dead is such a wonderful way to remember him and celebrate his life.

The picture? I made it in the campo cemetery. At one grave site there were two kind of raggedy dressed men. They seemed to be alone and not a part of any family group. One had white hair and he was stooped. He was turning the earth of the grave. The other, younger, the man you see above. He was putting flowers on the grave. Was this the grave of the wife and mother? I was touched. And it is another one of those times when, if I were a writer, there is a story to be written.