The opening of my photography show at the Museum of the City of Queretaro on December 16 was a blast. Two busloads of friends came along for the ride. We had wine, popcorn, and chocolates en route. The buses got lost, and we ended up far from the museum. Then we got lost trying to find our way through the streets, so I was almost an hour late to my own opening.
But it was a thrill for me to see such a large show of my work in a museum (a beautiful colonial ex-convent) with so many friends in attendance. There were six openings at the museum that night, so there was a lively crowd. Walking back to bus, we passed through the stunningly decorated squares of the historic center--one with a towering tree, dozens of hand-crafted tin lanterns, and angels; and another that is famous for its devil theme--though the meaning of the flamingos interspersed among the crouching and menacing devils eluded me.
Here are some photos, taken by my pals Roger Brudno and Carol Jackson; and a video of the eventshot by the talented alTirado, edited by the ever-patient and savvy Roger Brudno. For me, a night to remember!
Museo de la Ciudad Guerrero 27 Nte Centro Historico Queretaro Tues-Sun 10-6 Show continues through January 31, 2010
Two exhibitions of my photos will be on view at the The Museum of the City of Queretaro from December 16, 2009 (opening from 8-11 pm) through January 31, 2010.
The first show, "CARumba!," depicts the rusted, scraped, dented and much-repainted cars that ply the streets of San Miguel. Shot close-up, they first look abstract, until you notice the details of the car door handle, or a chrome strip. Shots of the car interiors document the mixed bag of sacred and profane items that typically hang from rear-view mirrors here: images of saints and Guadalupe, rosaries, pine-tree-shaped air fresheners, mininature stuffed animal mascots of every description, parking permits. Taken through closed windows, these shots also overlay multiple reflections from the street outside. I'm also showing four paintings based on the car exteriors as part of this exhibit.
"LONAmiento,"in the second gallery, documents another of my ongoing photo obsessions: the colorful tarpaulins (lonas) that hang over the open markets, shape-shifting and overlapping and changing color as the wind moves through them. I photographed these photos the first day I visited San Miguel in 2003, and i'm still at it. These photos, too, seem abstract until you notice the ropes from which they are suspended, the rips and folds. "Sailing Through the Market," a video of the tarpaulins moving in the breeze, with music by Gil & Cartas, is a part of this exhibit. Here is a sampling of photos from the exhibition.
Preparing for the show has been intense, stressful and--finally--exciting. I feel like I've been going non-stop for months, with 70+ pieces to select, print and frame, label, pack and then hang at the wonderful Museo de la Cuidad that was once a convent, in the historic center of Queretaro. Then came the details of postcards and publicity and planning the opening (2 buses, popcorn and wine for 80). Friends, and the director and staff at the museum, have been helpful and supportive, in so many ways, every step of the way. As I write this, the opening is two days away. I can hardly wait...
Museo de la Cuidad Guerrero 27 Norte Centro Historico Queretaro Open Monday through Sunday 10-6
Another opening, another show. The Day of the Dead festivities are warming up here in San Miguel, and the Fabrica Aurora, with it's many shops and galleries, is throwing a huge fiesta on Saturday night, the 31st, with live music and decorated altars honoring the dead, cocktails and dancing "Catrina" figures--the whole nine yards.
As part of the festivities, I'll be showing a mixed bag of paintings at Generator Gallery's opening. By which I mean a few fingerpaintings; a couple of paintings in which rabbits figure prominently (don't ask; I don't know the answer myself); and a couple of pieces inspired by the old Doo Wop songs I've been listening to while I work.
I've been so busy these last months that I've barely had time to spend in the studio, and I miss it. One more opening to go, in December at the Queretaro Museum, and book deadlines to meet before year's end, but I have high hopes of long, happy hours of painting in the new year.
On Tuesday, October 13th at 5 p.m., my friend Edward Swift and I will be giving back-to-back presentations about our lives as artists at the Santa Ana Theater here in San Miguel. Our presentations, part of the bi-annual "Creative Journey" series, will be followed by a discussion and question-and-answer session.
It's been quite an eye-opening experience preparing for this show. I've had a roller-coaster career as an artist, hopping from one thing to another, easily distracted by working for a living and general amusement, and had the sense that I really hadn't applied myself as an artist. But in prowling through piles of old material, I've been happily surprised to find that I've been quite productive, despite my lollygagging. Graphic design, painted furniture and floors, an animation film, a macrame jewelry business, lots o' books, intermittent series' of paintings and photographs. I can only show a fraction of this work in my presentation. View album or Play slideshow. The encouraging news for me is that, despite my sense of lost time as an artist, there has been a cumulative effect of doing this work over the years that is serving me well now. Who knew??
Yikes! One minute I'm resting on my tattered laurels, congratulating myself for having pulled together another exhibition. And then, before I get any serious loafing done, I'm running around again, choosing images, getting enlargements made, hauling them to the framer, laying out the show, making inventory sheets and labels, posting images to picasa web albums, preparing an email annoucement, writing this blog post, delivering the work to the gallery, etc etc.
So...the opening is Friday night, September 4th, from 5-8 pm, at Generator Gallery in Fabrica Aurora, the same night as the monthly ArtWalk. I'm so happy to be showing this work (images posted here). I've been obsessed with photographing these market tarpaulins since my first visit to San Miguel in 2003. For this show, I made a 5-minute video of these same images rippling in the wind, like sails, called "Veleando por el Mercado" (Sailing Through the Market"). The story of making this video, novice that I am, is another saga. Thank heaven for patient and helpful pals. Yikes!
It has been said about me that i am easily amused. I beg to disagree, since I cling to the illusion that I have high standards for my sense of humor. But I do like to laugh, and I think humor, in regular doses, is a great antidote to whatever ails you, and simply to getting through life on this mysterious and bedeviled planet. Troubles, sorrows, and sucker punches come along often enough that I can't imagine why we shouldn't be enjoying life to it's fullest when we can.
So in the interest of promoting world peace and joy, I give you Joe Cocker performing "With a Little Help from My Friends" at Woodstock, finally in translation so you can understand what the hell he said. This is the first of what will be an ongoing series of posts to brighten your day and your outlook.
Mexico has been taking it on the chin lately. The tourist industry has been devastated by the swine flu scare, the reports of narcotrafficking violence, the return of so many workers who were forced to return from the U.S. by anti-immigration pressures. For those of us who live here and love this country, it's been upsetting to watch, because we know how distorted the news reports are, not to mention many people's image of Mexico. Every day, I am reminded of how fortunate I am to be here. I love the kind people, the rich culture. I have never felt unsafe; in fact, I feel protected. I walk home by myself late at night, eat the food and drink the water.
Mexico has an excellent public health care system and, when the aporkalypse struck, put into place the measures that all first-world countries are prepared to deploy in the face of a viral threat. To date there have been 87 swine flu deaths. Not a single case was reported in my home state of Guanajuato. Interesting article on Mexico's economy here.
“I think the whole world should be saying, ‘Gracias, amigos,’ to the Mexicans for the tremendous sacrifice they have made. That may have stopped what otherwise would have been a serious pandemic." -- Laurie Garrett, senior fellow for global health at the Council on Foreign Relations and the author of “The Coming Plague: Newly Emerging Diseases in a World Out of Balance ” (Penguin, 1995), NY Times, May 4, 2009
Narcotrafficking is a serious problem here, but like major crime everywhere, it lives underground, and is mostly concentrated in three border towns of Mexico--where the narcotraffickers have just-across-the-border access to the huge selection of guns they can't buy here, and where they can easily ship their contraband to their U.S. clientele. Murders in Mexico are 98% drug related. As in high-crime U.S. cities, most people go about their business barely aware of the shady world beneath the surface.
Meanwhile, the economy is booming. The Mexican stock market gained 130% over the last five years. Mexico has a cash surplus, newly discovered oil fields, an influx of foreign capital building major new manufacturing facilities, a reliable water supply, a burgeoning environmental/organic movement, and exceptional medical and dental care that is far less costly and more efficient than in the States. What's not to like? Mexico is the world's #1 retirement destination. There are over two million U.S and Canadian property owners here. Another six million are expected in the next fifteen years.
So come to Mexico! Relax, enjoy yourself. It's gorgeous, it's festive, it's safe and inexpensive. Hmmmm....all those deported workers. I wonder who's going to pick the U.S. apple crop next year?
One day in November of 2004 I got an email from Leah Feldon, a friend I’d known in Manhattan twenty years earlier, just checking in to be sure I had her email address, because she was moving to Mexico. (I’m not filling in the details of husbands and ex-husbands and such). I wrote her back to say that I was planning to leave California in February to spend three months in San Miguel to decide whether I wanted to live there permanently. The phone rang seconds later; it was Leah saying the she had just bought a house in San Miguel. Now, anyone who lives here will not be surprised by this coincidence: it is a classic it-happens-all-the-time San Miguel vortex story. So here we are in this small town, four years later, after decades of occasional visits and email contact, savvy gringos who give you local advice and color in seventeen-syllable doses. See the first Gringo Haiku post here.
Old friends meet again in San Miguel. No surprise: Everyday magic….
Hopeful gringo hordes cross the guarded border to Seek a better life.
Goats hang from hooks. Piles Of gizzards, tongue, shanks, hooves. Hey, where’s the shrink-wrapped meat?
At Bellas Artes I practice ancient art form. Not flamenco. Yoga!
Through shafts of morning light and birdsong I cross the park to get a facelift.
Hola, amiga! Great to run into you…for the third time today.
I love stories about people who come up with the perfect comeback--or insult--at the very moment it's needed. The story about Frank Zappa in the earlier "Riposte" post is one of my favorites.
I had been trying to remember the famous exchange between Winston Churchill and George Bernard Shaw, between whom there was no love lost, when my friend Michael Sudheer sent me a whole passel o' retorts, including the one I was looking for. Made my day!
Here are a few of them. As my dad used to say (as he laid his winning cards down at the end of a poker hand), "Read 'em and weep..."
The Winston Churchill/Geroge Bernard Shaw exchange: Shaw: I am enclosing two tickets to the first night of your play. Bring a friend...if you have one. Churchill's reply: Cannot possible attend first night; will attend second...if there is one.
Groucho Marx struck a similar note: I've had a perfectly wonderful evening, but this wasn't it.
An exchange between Churchill and Nancy, Lady Astor: Astor: If you were my husband, I'd give you poison. Churchill: If you were my wife, I'd drink it.
A barb from Oscar Wilde: He has no enemies, but is intensely disliked by his friends.
Then there was the time, long ago, when Dick Cavett introduced the nauseatingly accessible Rod McKuen as America's most understood poet.
And when Ghandi repsonded to the question of what he thought of Western civilization: I think it's a good idea.
Friday, June 3 is the "official" re-opening of the Generator Gallery, during the monthly ArtWalk at Fabrica Aurora here in San Miguel. I'll be showing a series of large photographs of Candelaria, the huge annual plant and flower fair, and a group of small acrylic finger-paintings.
I'm learning that preparing for these shows is a lot of work--framing, enlarging photos, labels, hanging, publicity. At midnight last night I was printing and cutting up wallet-size photos of the work I'm showing and making them into refrigerator magnets--and wondering where I went wrong.
I'm trying to plan ahead, and pretty much know what I'm going to show through the rest of this year. What I want to do next are some BIG finger-paintings, working flat on my worktable with lots of open pots of paint, spray bottles of water, music in the background, a glass of tequila by my side.....Oops, I must be dreaming... I've got a deadline to meet on the book I'm ghostwriting....
I often tell people that it was Leonore Fleischer who lured me into the writing trade (vintage hippie era photo of Leonore from my book, Clothing Liberation: Out of the Closets and Into the Streets, circa 1973). She dropped by my stand on 6th Avenue in Greenwich Village one auspicious Saturday in 1970, when I was selling off the inventory of my macramé (yeah, wanna make something of it?) jewelry business, which had become a pain in the butt. Six months later she called me, having seen a write-up about my wares in the annual New Yorker “What to Buy for Christmas” article, wanting me to write a book on macramé. I protested vehemently, but she persisted, and over lunch at the Lion’s Head pub, convinced me that she could give me whatever help I needed (I had a graphic design studio at the time, but I was no writer). Well, the short version is that Leonore became my editor, and a very close friend: we are still in touch. I’ll let her tell you the rest of the story. But I want to brag a little bit—in the hope of hustling up some business—by quoting her response to my delivering that first manuscript:
"I read it, I read it over again, in shock. The manuscript was perfect. Perfect. Not a comma out of place, not an adverb wrongly used, not a work misspelled. More, it was as witty and friendly as it was informative. A witty craft book! I sat stunned. There was nothing for me to do, nothing."
I was born and raised in New Jersey, and spent childhood summers with a pile o’ tomatoes and a salt shaker, eating my fill. I vividly remember being in south Jersey with my first husband, Bruce Torbet, working on a civil rights documentary called “Mississippi Summer,” on the day of the first moon landing. I spent the day up to my ears in a cornfield (unplanned pun), eating the sweet raw corn between takes (I was the sound recordist). I had been an avid follower of the space program, so in anticipation of watching the moon landing, we stopped at a farm stand and bought a humongous bag of tomatoes, and a whole container of Morton’s salt. That night I sat propped up in the motel bed with my tomatoes and salt, happy as could be, although I had a suspicion the landing had been shot in a loft on Greene Street in Soho (remember the flag that was wired to look as though it was flying in the breeze?). What a wonderful day!
First-rate tomatoes have come and gone in my life. In many places where I've traveled they were stupendous, but even in California they didn’t measure up to New Jersey standards, and in winter—forget about it. Here in San Miguel, for all that I love the place, the tomatoes look appealing, but are lacking in taste, as though reconstituted from some combination of sawdust and tomato paste. But lo and behold, thanks to the burgeoning, green/environmental movement here in town, there is a new organic gourmet store in my humble neighborhood, Vía Orgánica, and the tomatoes are wonderful. So again I have bags of fabulous tomatoes and a big salt shaker, and I am as happy as can be…. Viva Vía Orgánica!
The amazing and endearing Maria Valenzuela only works two afternoons a week at my house, but she manages to clean, do the laundry, iron (and mend my clothes), shop and prepare food to leave in the fridge, pay the bills, tend the garden, and in general oversee whatever needs tending to. She works for other gringos during the week, and cooks for a local caterer. She is the matriarch of a large family--ten grown children, many grandchildren and an extended family--which means there are always unexpected expenses and crises, even deaths from the diabetes and other maladies that plague the local populace.
Clearly our lives are very different--I live alone, I have no children, I'm not religious. Yet we have become close. I am invited to family gatherings--of which there are many, often connected with religious celebrations. I 'sponsor,' as do other family members--one of the Christmas posadas they do for nine straight nights, providing pinatas and prayer (along with a mini-procession of the family's nativity tableau), punch and tamales, for their neighbors and community. For all her responsibilities, Maria has an abiding sense of humor and fun, and we always manage to laugh, even when we are having a difficult time. And we both enjoy our tequila.
I salute Maria Valenzuela, a bright light in my life and in the life of her family and community.
There are minor mysteries everywhere…the way the full moon shows up each month, perfectly poised in the night sky, in the arched window in front of my desk. The way the blue neon cross at the local parish church two blocks away is simply a straight line, like a sword pointing to the sky, from my studio window. Lately I’m fascinated by a springtime transformation that takes place in my home every day:
In the early morning, light comes in through the triangular window on my stairwell. It casts a sharp triangular shadow on the opposite wall, then migrates down the stairs and becomes a shapeless blob on the floor and kitchen rug, and around midday arranges itself in a perfect circle at the foot of the stairs. Now if that's not magic.... see the whole sequence here.
This is a fiesta-mad town, and yesterday was one of the maddest, and one of my favorites-- El Dia de los Locos--the Day of the Crazies. See photos here. This only-in-San Miguel parade culminates eight days of celebrations, fireworks, and devotions that honor St. Anthony of Padua, the patron of mariners and fishermen, expectant mothers. animals, American Indians, and travelers, among other beneficiaries of his benificence.
Over ten thousand people, organized by neighborhood and community associations, parade through the streets in extravagant, inventive costumes of every description, each group led by a vividly festooned truck with it's own sound system, each group dancing and cavorting to its own rhythms. This year Disney movie characters were a main theme. Lots of men dressed as women. Hmmmm... Tens of thousands of other people line the long parade route (some hang off balconies and rooftops) holding upside-down umbrellas to catch the candy flung by the paraders. Kids ride atop their parents' shoulders. Vendors hawk tamales and corn, cold drinks and balloons. It's kind of like a good-natured Mardi Gras, wild and enthusiastic, but without the booze.
My fellow writer friend Leah Feldon and I were desperate to come up with something for the first San Miguel Authors Anthology, but we hadn’t been in San Miguel long enough to have written anything about it. Sitting around over a couple rounds of tequila, we wrote a piece on ‘Gringo Haiku,’ based on the traditional Japanese poem form of 17-syllables, in lines of 5-7-5, about the vagaries of San Miguel gringo life, with a faux-academic introduction. It got great laughs, so we turned it into a little book. Here are some samples:
In San Miguel you never know for whom the bell tolls, or why, or when.
Carnelian sun slants on red tiled roofs. I wonder what it will sell for.
On Vonage wings and wireless internet I reach out to the old country.
On jardín benches a row of stopped geezers eyes the brown-eyes chicas.
Rain glistens on the cobbled streets and the arm slings of fallen women.
More Gringo Haiku coming soon. Contributions welcome, but juried by our panel of critics....
The witty comeback is often elusive, especially in the very moment it's needed. The French refer to this dilemma as "l'esprit de l'escalier," the frustration at not coming up with the perfect retort until you've reached the bottom of the staircase on your way out the door.
One of my favorite comebacks goes back a number of years, to an incident when Frank Zappa was being interviewed by the conservative and perpetually angry radio talk show host, Joe Pyne, an ex-Vietnam vet who came home from combat with a wooden leg. During the interview, Pyne was irritated with everything about Zappa, his free-wheeling political and social views, his bizarre clothes, and especially his long, straggly hair.
"Doesn't having long hair make you feel like a girl?" Pyne snarled.
"Not at all," Zappa was unfazed. "Does having a wooden leg make you feel like a table?"
Ouch... just once in my life I'd like to come up with a zinger like that.
Here are a few new quotes, on the subject of life and death:
Life is what happens while you are making other plans. —John Lennon
For three days after death hair and fingernails continue to grow, but phone calls taper off. —Johnny Carson
Perhaps there is no life after death...there is just Los Angeles. —Rick Anderson
There is no cure for birth and death, save to enjoy the interval. —George Santayana
There is more to life than increasing its speed. —Mahatma Gandhi
Riposte suggestions are welcome, and will be published--if you pass through my finicky filter
LuluLand is on its way. I’m excited, but terrified about the ongoing work involved. All I can think about is that my friends and family are still going to be miffed when I don’t write back to them.
But hey… I love the idea of having a forum for writing about writing, about life here in San Miguel, my friends and family, and the quirks and glories of the human condition. And because I am so involved in photography and painting at the moment, I am happy to have a place to show images of my work. (Click on the Picasa album link on the right).
This Friday is the opening night of an exhibition at my local gallery, the Generator Gallery. I’ve been showing there for two years, but now, along with a group of artists, I will have a permanent space to show whatever I want, and change it as often as I like. This month my mini-show is called “All this…every day,” which is kind of my mantra here in San Miguel. There is always some colorful fiesta or procession or ritual going on, big or small. It is not unusual to come upon a neighborhood feast, or fireworks, or a full-blown blowout on one’s daily rounds. The pictures I’m showing now are of the stunning fireworks towers that will soon be charred remains; the ten foot tall paper-maché puppets that join almost every parade, and the huge paper-maché figures that are rigged with fireworks and blown up on the main square every Easter, to the amusement of all.
My friend alTirado, photographer, photojournalist, and videographer, is showing new photographs and figurative clay sculptures at Mero Gallery here in San Miguel. The opening is Friday, June 12, from 7 to 9. The show is titled, “The Third Dimension.” For a preview go here.
“By creating a sense of movement in the photos, alTirado says, “I am attempting to capture a moment in life, an instant in time, with the implication that no image is still, but part of a larger arc which continues into the future. These photos allow the viewer to come to his or her own conclusion about what happens next. The clay sculptures are part of my continuing quest to learn more about what goes on ‘around the corner’ from the two dimensional world of still photography and video.” alTirado’s books, San Miguel: A Pictorial Story, and Art in San Miguel, which profiles 33 local artists, are on sale in bookstores around town. The show continues through August.
In my many years as a writer, I’ve developed a fondness for the apt quotation—the acerbic riposte, the witty remark, the insightful observation on life and its foibles. This will be an ongoing gathering of bon mots.
There is no distinctly American class—except Congress. Mark Twain
Wit is educated insolence. Aristotle
Only the mediocre are always at their best. Jean Girardoux
The cure for writer’s cramp is writer’s block. Inigo de Leon
I always wanted to be somebody, but I should have been more specific. Lily Tomlin
Having your book turned into a movie is like having your oxen turned into bouillon cubes. John Le Carré
If you are going to try cross-country skiing, start with a small country. Saturday Night Live
I’m not afraid to die. I just don’t want to be there when it happens. Woody Allen
Old age comes at a bad time. Sue Banducci
I want my immortality now, and I want it in cash. Leonore Fleischer
And finally, the message on a local T-shirt: If it’s tourist season, why can’t we shoot them?
I’m a ghostwriter, photographer and painter who moved to San Miguel de Allende, Mexico eight years ago, by way of New Jersey, Manhattan and the San Francisco Bay area. In addition to having a place to talk about painting, writing and photography, and post images, I have high hopes that this blog will serve to redeem my well-deserved reputation as a lousy correspondent.
Interested in writing and/or ghostwriting services? Go to LauraTorbet.com.
Photos
San Miguel is a continuous fiesta of visual delights. I'm always on the prowl for those moments when the light invites me to see the everyday world anew. I'm seduced by tricks of light, color-infused shadows, ambiguous reflections. i want my work to illuminate for viewers the ordinary beauty that is--always--right in front of our eyes.
Paintings
I’m still something of a novice at painting, though I’ve dabbled on and off through my life. Now I have a studio right around the corner from my house here in San Miguel. At the moment I’m making large, loose acrylic and pastel paintings on paper and canvas. Movement and liveliness are important to me. Often I work with a paintbrush in one hand and a pastel in the other, and rely on background music to keep me in motion. If I stand still, I tend to unconsciously rework the painting until it’s an unholy mess, dead on the page.
Writing
Ghostwriting other people’s books, and developmental editing, is my day job. I’ve written or ghostwritten over thirty books, mostly in the areas of popular psychology and memoir. Usually I begin working with clients by doing a consultation, so that I can look over their notes or drafts, discuss what they want to accomplish, and evaluate what needs to be done to produce their book. Then we write a proposal or, as is more and more the case now that the traditional publishing business is crumbling, simply go ahead to prepare their material for self-publishing. Get in touch if you need some help with your own writing project.
The opening of my photography show at the Museum of the City of Queretaro on December 16 was a blast. Two busloads of friends came along for the ride. We had wine, popcorn, and chocolates en route. The buses got lost, and we ended up far from the museum. Then we got lost trying to find our way through the streets, so I was almost an hour late to my own opening.
