WORD PAINTINGS #147 - FEAR, UNCERTAINTY AND DOUBT

 

WORD PAINTINGS # 147 (How I came to New Mexico and learned about Art and Life) - FEAR, UNCERTAINTY AND DOUBT

Fear, uncertainty, and doubt (FUD) is a manipulative propaganda tactic used in sales, marketing, public relations, politics, polling, and cults. FUD is generally a strategy to influence perception by disseminating negative and dubious or false information, and is a manifestation of the appeal to fear - Wikipedia

12 November 2024 - Even though cable newscasters tell us we have never been here before - it is the Fear stoked by politicians and cable news that immobilizes us!   Yesterday was Veteran's day and I remembered my uncles Alvin Hermesdorf who fought  bravely in the Battle of the Bulge; Uncle Roy Knoll who fought alongside the British in Burma and Calcutta. Hitler invaded  the port of Gdansk, Poland, on September 1st 1939 - I was born two days later.  Am certain that the months, perhaps years before the conflict began my family sat around the kitchen table, elbows on much worn flowered tablecloths, and discussed all the "What-ifs" leading up to the invasion.  There were still  relatives in Gdansk and inland Poland. Their worst fears grew and came to fruition as ordinary worlds exploded. 

No one would ever be the same!  Battles, invasions, Omaha Beach, family separations, losses of life, relocations in Europe, food shortages, prison camps, concentration camps -  immense suffering and unbelievable atrocities!!!  These were the stories of the first six years of my life. What I remember most is the FEAR!  Adult fears were magnified a thousand times in my child's mind.  We all gathered around the radio to listen to President Roosevelt's Fireside chats.  Letters from Uncle Roy telling me that there were huge snakes under the hammock where he slept and his best British buddy had been killed in battle the day before.  I sent him letters and drawings and my child mind could only imagine what "being in danger" meant, but I was seriously afraid of losing him.Let us not forget the atomic bomb!  Hiroshima and Nagasaki!!! As young children we had "bomb drills" and hid under our desks to protect us from an enemy attack!  There were city wide sirens blaring - warnings to find a safe place to hide.  Not much comfort after seeing the rubble of the two cities in Japan!  Today our "babies" wear bullet-proof backpacks to school and are terrified by regular "active shooter" drills. They and their Moms and Dads live in constant fear.

The Japanese surrendered on Sept. 2 1945  Then came the announcement that the Big War was over!!! I was six years old and  vividly remember how we celebrated VJ Day at our house on Whipple Street in Chicago!  My uncles returned searching for their places among families and friends. They were strangers - their old lives were happy memories. Everything had changed, they were forever changed. No longer young and beautiful they had returned from the pits of hell only to begin again at the beginning, while dealing with nightmares and unimaginable memories of bombs and bullets.

And then came Vietnam!!! The same horrific consequences of fighting a war in a land no one even knew existed until they were drafted!  More losses and atrocities - years of FEAR! Anti-war demonstrations tore this country apart - are you old enough to remember Kent State? Henry Kissinger regularly on TV outlining all the reasons why we are in another "necessary" war! "Remember the secret invasion of Cambodia?  Young soldiers taken to prison camps and tortured, Agent Orange, Mai  Lai massacre - Remember?   Our veterans returned to be ignored and ostracized - some of whom are still struggling or died by suicide!

Can the modern newscasters even imagine the state of our world at war?  I sincerely doubt that they have any idea of what it was like to live in those times.  Instead they help to scare the bejeezus out of little old ladies who believe they will suffer at the hands of mad Haitians!  Modern day media is a money-making proposition and our once and future king is the centerpiece for most of our fear and confusion.  Truth-telling is a total stranger to many politicians and some media pundits. Where is Walter Cronkite when you need him?

Sadly our lives are governed by our fears! For some eerily strange reason, this new administration is too ambitious and terribly messy.  Instead I believe it will fail under the weight of  lofty goals to change the world order into their bleached and entitled image of themselves. No doubt there will be severe consequences as a result of the passionate advocacy for their 2025 Project.  Enacting their policies will affect everyone in  this country, including their own constituents - much to the shock and surprise of many voters - you know who they are! The disruptions will be broad and severe and the economic policies will cause great hardship. They have caught the car. 

The results of this election changed our country Forever!! What the agents of change have forgotten is the strength and power of the American people.   WE ARE SURVIVORS!!!!  The Great Depression, WWII, Korea, Vietnam - we have met each challenge with fierce bravery and have emerged from the darkness of then and we will emerge from the darkness of now!!!

Time to slow down. Most of what we fear today might never happen and our energy and time would be wasted. They only win if we give into our Fears!!  Believe in the goodness of "US"....

Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound...

 

WORD PAINTINGS #146 - - GONE TO SANCTUARY

 

"WINTER DREAMS" (Llano Quemado - Truchas, N.M. - The road to the horse ranch)

 WORD PAINTINGS # 146 - Llano Quemado, New Mexico 

"Forward and backward I have gone and for me it has been an immense journey.....Perhaps there is no meaning in it at all, the thought went on inside of me,save that of the journey itself, so far as men can see.  It has altered with the chances of life, and the chances brought us here; but it was a good journey - long, perhaps - but a good journey under a pleasant sun. Do not look for the purpose."  Loren Eiseley, Naturalist - The Immense Journey

4 November 2024 - Heavy snow clouds on the mountain this morning.  Snow on the foothills across the field from my window.  Predictions for two days of snow.. What a blessing.  The Almanac forecasts a La Nina winter, which usually means a very dry season; this early storm is a very welcome surprise!  

Learned to love the quiet isolation of a winter storm when I lived on the horse ranch in Truchas.  A panic attack at first - no noise, no goings or comings - just me, myself and I - plus piles of canvas, fat tubes of paint and many brushes large and small.

6 November 2024 - Yes, shocked and saddened by the results of the election.  What now? How can we prepare for Project 2025 and all the changes and chaos to come? Darkness - retribution! Real life is full of both good and bad surprises - some heavy-duty shocks! What to do? Where to turn? How to cope?  I looked around my studio and NOTHING HAD CHANGED!  A blessed numbness set in and I realized that the only changes I could make were in my own mind, my own way of dealing with darkness - just get through it one day at a time.  Focus on ordinary things that bring peace and joy, create something, practice kindness - don't let them win.  Deciding to move forward - I don't have a map to lead me out of this wilderness - need to make a list to find my way.... 

Walk into the Storm eyes wide open! When in doubt, stock up the pantry!   Wednesday is grocery day - up early to make my list.  Daughter is stranded in New York and upset about election news.  Unable to return due to 3-day heavy snows predicted - over 12 inches.  Sent grocery list to my helper - blizzard began while he was at store.  Felt lucky to be stocked up. Was once stranded on the horse ranch over two weeks - it was the holiday season, schools were closed and the plows didn't come through until after the New Year. Had a little Sears freezer stocked with homemade soups and essentials.  The wood pile was low.  Breathed a big sigh of relief to see that big snow plow huffin' and puffin' down that narrow dirt road!!!

Remembering the catastrophic Chicago snowstorm of 1966. 46" snowdrifts in the front yard. My twins were 3 weeks old, my son 18 months. Their dad was supposed to bring groceries. No food in the house, no formula for the babies.  Beyond fear.  A total stranger showed up at my door asked me what I needed. He walked about a mile with with a sled loaded with two cases of Similac. That man was my very shy next door neighbor - my hero.  In these times I am reminded of Miracles - and I still Believe that we will get through this time!

Organize my thoughts. clear my mind! Stop watching the news. Don't read the headlines. Making piles of all my favorite books - each one helped me through my dark days.  Maxine Hong Kingston The Fifth Book of Peace, Thomas Merton, Behaving as if the God in All Life Mattered! Words that calm and uplift my spirits!Focus on Today.  Make some art! Order my paints to get me through the winter.  About 12 canvases already have images assigned to them in my mind - even the frames are ordered.  Will just keep on keeping on. When in doubt, get very quiet - hunker down. Don't give in to fear!!!  Amidst the chaos, put up a "do not disturb" sign, create your own little corner of peace.  CELEBRATE THE ORDINARY!!!

Create Sanctuary!

WORD PAINTINGS #145 - GUATEMALA 1991 PART V - TRUTH AND CONSEQUENCES

                                    Bearers of Light - Easter 1991 -Chichicastenango, Guatemala

 

 (How I Came to New Mexico and learned about Art and Life) - Had been angry with Anthony Bourdain ever since I heard the announcement of his suicide.  What a waste! He had it all.  Truth is he had seen it all and  finally the world he witnessed became too much for him.  Remembering one episode where he visited another forlorn and  war- ravaged country, trying to make sense of the devastation, his weariness was palpable.  After writing about my experiences in Guatemala recently, I  understand why he became too weary.  He saw the world with open eyes. ! It isn't always pretty, is it? 

My blissful ignorance followed me home.to my little nest in Taos. I was clueless! Naively I still believed that my country was that shining city on the hill! Deciding to know the truth of my experience, I bought books - lots and lots of books!  The story of Rigoberta Menchu hit hard. She became an activist for indigenous rights after her entire family was either murdered or disappeared. In 1992 she was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize. Several years later we met when she lectured here in Taos. She is still one of my heroes - I stand in awe of her courage.. The civil war in Guatemala was called the Silent Holocaust and lasted for over 30 years. Over 200,000 people were either murdered or disappeared.  One of the darkest years of the "war" was 1991!! 

Sadly all my red, white and blue blinders were removed by the books I bought and read. To quote Sr. Diane Ortiz  (The Blindfold's Eyes)...."Maybe I survived simply because I am a U.S citizen.  But because of that very privilege, I have a huge responsibility.  The U.S. Government funded, trained and equipped the Guatemalan death squads - my torturers themselves.  The United States was the Guatemala army's partner in a covert war against a small opposition force -  a war the United Nations would later declare genocidal.  I am answerable for what my country has done and is doing and is likely to do, as the world's only "superpower". I have a responsibility to be vigilant and speak out."  "Don't forget. Even if you can't see the light, it's there."  

Everyone responds to truth in their own way. Truth can break your heart. My first reaction was a kind of numbness as I began to go through my huge pile of books. School of the Americas in the U.S. indeed trained the Guatemalan military.....knowledge hurts!  Denial was my first reaction.  There was a time that I believed that the war in Vietnam was just and our invasion of Iraq was necessary.  I didn't know what I didn't know until my eyes were opened by my Great Adventure! 

Years later I have come to a certain peace knowing that I have absolutely no power to change the world.   In reality I think of all the lives affected by the insanity of war...the inhumanity, the waste of all that once was promising and beautiful.

It took seven years for me to produce my first and only paintings from Guatemala with the full knowledge that I wasn't doing them for the money or prestige.  I had changed and my work changed with me.   Like the Velveteen Rabbit, I started to become real (still have some way to go)! Following Forrest's advice I recalled the honesty I felt from the Wyeth paintings in his exhibit at the Art Institute of Chicago in 1967.  Slowly some honesty crept into my work.  Larger canvases - open spaces - peace.

My disenchantment with galleries and the art world grew and I backed away slowly.  Roaming became a habit.  A small lunch, my camera and a spare flannel shirt and I was off to places unknown in my little blue Dodge Dakota pick-up truck. Falling in love with all the small villages on the High Road all over again and seeing them in a new light I recovered my sense of Place.  They are a part of me. One afternoon in Amalia.  a surprise detour on a little dirt road led to open spaces so silent that I heard the sound of bird wings overhead.  I am grounded. My true "home" is in these mountains. So grateful. DC 

WORD PAINTINGS #144 - GUATEMALA 1991 PART IV - INCIDENTS AT COPAN

WORD PAINTINGS #144 (How I came to New Mexico and learned about Life and Art) - GUATEMALA 1991 PART IV - INCIDENTS AT COPAN

5 May 2024 (Llano Quemado, New Mexico) It is a mystery to me why this past Easter Season brought back so many vivid memories of my trip to Guatemala... the magnificent processions, the colorful village life, the ever present sense of danger. This past month I have read most of The Blindfold's Eye by Sister Dianna Ortiz, the Ursuline nun kidnapped from Posada de Belen  in November 1989. The intensity of that trip returned to me as I read the of her courage and resilience. For a time I was back in that cold damp room at La Posada and imagined her presence in that same place.  Have been reluctant to share this last part of my "photo tour".  Am certain that what is happening in Palestine has much to do with my vivid recollections from thirty-three years ago.

HONDURAS - COPAN - Our bus stopped at a military checkpoint at the border between Guatemala and Honduras.   It was a small building with an open door and a large desk. Behind the desk was an older man surrounded by three young men with guns. Another young man with an AK47 stood guard at the door. We were instructed to present our papers to the comandante for his approval.

Passports stamped and approved, we stood outside the hut to wait for another bus to take us to the ruins at Copan. Directly in front of me was a young woman in a light summer dress carrying some parcels. The man with the gun stood close beside her and with his gun touched her leg and began to lift her skirt.  Her body stiffened but she continued to look straight ahead. The area was quite crowded and the three of us seemed to morph into a unit - he smirked, she stiffened with palpable fear and I stared in disbelief at the gun rising on her leg. The bus arrived and we were on our merry way to visit the ruins at Copan.

Considering the bloody warfare that took place here so long ago, Copan was incredibly peaceful and serene compared to the noise of Guatemala City.  The pyramid towered over the  smaller structures and stelae.  A very large round ceremonial stone was carved with the images of thirteen kings, homage to the ruling dynasties.  I was standing in the very center of the Forest of Kings! The ruins are stark and overwhelming.   In place for centuries fierce sculpted faces jutted and stared from long stone walls. One of our guides pointed in the direction of the river and said that thousands of farmers and laborers had once lived there. It was easy to imagine the bustle of community needed to support the kings that once ruled Copan.  Farmers, stone carvers, builders, priests, astronomers and scribes...all necessary to keep this once powerful city-state thriving in all its glory! At the Inscription Staircase I floated off again to wander alone.  Separating myself in this way intensified my experience.   

Transported by the stories of the ancient Maya, I wondered what earthly magic conspired to bring me to this place!    Does anyone remember the powerful paintings in National Geographic of the king sitting atop the pyramid looking down on the scene below? If one of the guides announced that they were hiring archaeological helpers, I would have been the first to raise my hand!  Enthralled by the Mysteries yet to be uncovered, hoped that someone would step up, hand me a sun hat, a little shovel, some potent bug spray and told me where to start digging!

Sadly later that afternoon we were again on our way back to Guatemala.  Perhaps the quiet of the day silenced the normal buzz of chatter. The atmosphere on our return was quite subdued.  We were coming to the end of a whirlwind tour of a very mysterious adventure. Heading into a golden sunset, it was a perfect ending to this trip! The rutted dirt road had a gentle rocking effect and a few fellow adventurers had closed their eyes and nodded off.  Suddenly the bus jerked to a screeching stop.  Silhouetted against the sun  and blocking the road stood six men with machine guns.  One man separated from their group.  Our bus driver opened the door and was instructed to collect all our papers which we handed over. He was then sent down the aisle telling each of us to give a "ransom" and we would be released to go on our way.  After giving up a few quetzales, I looked through the window to my right at a steep drop off. Who would miss a busload of sweaty old Americans? Once the "banditos" had their money in hand, they returned our papers.  Definitely an Indiana Jones experience! 

Even though it was the same dark place, protected by men with machine guns, the airport in Guatemala City was strangely welcoming.  I lugged my duffel bag of weavings onto the plane and settled in for the long ride home.  What had just happened?  I slept one night in a cloud forest, listened to howler monkeys and spent one afternoon searching the canopy for quetzal birds....colorful markets, ancient ruins....and Easter Sunday in Chichicastenango!!  Completely ignorant to the truth of my experiences,  I spent the next years learning from many books and films about the brutal "civil" war.  It was seven years before I could do a very limited series of oil paintings.  I understood the tension and fear I felt all throughout the trip. Finally the paintings became a sincere homage to the people of Guatemala. DC

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NOTES: "Copán is thought to have been inhabited as early as 2000 BC, despite the fact that there is sparse evidence to this effect. It was certainly at its peak between 300 AD and 900 AD, when it was the capital of an extensive kingdom in the southernmost Maya area and home to at least 20,000 people. The extensive stelae found at Copán give us a detailed description of the city’s history.

In the eighth century AD, Copán experienced a significant military defeat when its leader, the otherwise glorious Uaxaclajuun Ub’aah K’awiil, was captured and beheaded by the rulers of the city of Quirigua in what is now Guatemala. Copán collapsed relatively suddenly in the early 9th century: it seems that a combination of poor agricultural land, malnutrition and disease meant the population was ravaged.

Copán is often extremely quiet: the border crossing deters many less hardy tourists, and it’s a corner of Honduras that not many visit otherwise. Having the site to yourself is a particular treat – there’s quite a bit of ground to cover, and some of the ruins are still on the edge of the jungle."

"Copan's Hieroglyphic Stairway, is the longest and perhaps the most famous inscription in the Maya area. It was the most significant feature of Outstanding Universal Value cited by UNESCO for designating Copan a World Heritage Site in 1980. It records the dynastic history of the Copan’s 5^th to 8^th century rulers carved on more than 1100 glyph blocks spanning 63 steps. A first shorter version was dedicated to commemorate Ruler 12 and mentions his burial. Additions to that version were dedicated in 756 CE. 

John Lloyd Stephens, an American explorer and railway builder, was born Nov. 28, 1805. In 1839, Stephens went to Central America with artist and architect Frederick Catherwood to investigate rumors of ancient ruins. They went first to Copán, then to Palenque and three dozen more sites. They found ruins in abundance. Catherwood recorded the glyphs and carvings as accurately as if he had a camera. What makes the pair special in the annals of Mesoamerican archaeology is that they recognized almost immediately that the ruins must have been built by native Mesoamericans and not by European invaders, as everyone else seemed to assume. They also realized that since the living Mayas had no such abilities or inclinations, the builders must have lived long ago, and the history of Central America must go back much further than anyone imagined.  

WORD PAINTINGS #142 - GUATEMALA 1991 PART III - CIVIL WAR

WORD PAINTINGS  # 142 (How I Came to New Mexico and learned about Art and Life) - GUATEMALA PART III - CIVIL WAR

The pace of this trip was exhausting.  Prior to heading for the Friday Market in Solola and Lake Atitlan we had spent a night at Posada de Belen.  Damp dark sleeping room - the courtyard where Sister Ortiz had been kidnapped - my first hint that this was far more than a photo trip for paintings.  This was my Awakening to a world reality darker than anything I ever imagined...yet determined to hang onto that hazy state of blissful ignorance.....

THE CHINESE MONEY CHANGER: Anticipating some purchases at the Friday market in Solola, I changed my dollars into quetzals at the bank.  Great excitement as we boarded the bus...included in this leg of our adventure was a boat trip across Lake Atitlan to the small village of Santiago Atitlan.  Upon arriving at our new destination, the bus emptied out to make a stop at the Chinese money changer.  I could see him from the open front door. A small man sitting at a large desk under a bright overhead lamp hunched next to a pile of money. My impression was that of an old Humphrey Bogart movie with Sydney Greenstreet.  The bus driver had parked across the street close to an adobe building.  Sitting at the right window seat next to the wall outside, I prepared for a little much needed quiet time. I had the strange feeling of being watched. When I looked up two men with machine guns pointed at the door across the street were staring at me from the roof of the building above.  The barrels of the guns were long and menacing as were the men's stares. Holy St. Christopher! This trip just got very serious!  Without a glance at the guns pointed directly at them, our group clutched their wallets and purses, reboarded the bus and we were on our way....this was no movie!

FRIDAY MARKET - SOLOLA: Bedazzled by the colors - the "traje" - huipils, loom-woven sashes and headbands - individual works of art. And, oh, the "gente" -the Maya are beautiful people!  Baskets and baskets of tomatoes, onions, peppers - a low hum of conversation as people strolled among the vendoras' baskets and made their purchases.                            

 

SANTIAGO ATITLAN - Time to find the boat launch for the crossing of Lake Atitlan (the place where the rainbow gets its colors). An incredibly beautiful volcanic lake, set 1,500 meters above sea level and reaching a depth of 341 meters - making it the deepest lake in Central America. It's a true marvel that was formed 84,000 years ago due to a volcanic eruption.  According to the boatman, timing was all important to cross the lake, make a brief visit the village across the lake and make the return trip before the winds and the waves whipped up later that afternoon.

As we began our walk through the village, young girls were seated at their hand looms weaving colorful belts. Across the square there was a long building. Many women sat under the portal selling whatever they could - housewares, weavings - in order to support their families.  It was call "Mercado de las Viudas" (the Widow's Market). 

 "ON 2 DECEMBER 1990, the Guatemalan Army opened automatic weapons fire on an unarmed crowd of between 2,000 and 4,000 Tzutujil Mayas from the town of Santiago Atitlan in highland Guatemala, about 100 miles west of the capital. Fourteen people, ranging in age from 10 to 53, were killed; another 21 were wounded." The return trip across the lake was a very sad and choppy ride.  Unforgettable.

TIKAL AND THE CLOUD FOREST -- Our group of  sweaty Americans finally awakened  to  the undercurrent of  danger as the warnings of the trip to Peten became quite serious -  some abductions and robberies along the highway.  Concerned about their safety several surrounded our very patient bus driver asking him questions he would not or could not answer.  It was obvious their questions caused him fear. He had good reason to be afraid in case there were "orejas" or "ears" listening to him. There could be consequences. 

Tikal is a complex of Mayan ruins deep in the rainforests of northern Guatemala. Historians believe that the more than 3,000 structures on the site are the remains of a Mayan city called Yax Mutal, which was the capital of one of the most powerful kingdoms of the ancient empire.  It is believed that people lived at Tikal as far back as 1000 B.C. Archeologists have found evidence of agricultural activity at the site dating to that time, as well as remnants of ceramics dating to 700 B.C.  Guided by their religious rituals, the Maya made significant advances in mathematics and astronomy, including the use of the zero and the development of complex calendar systems.

The ruins were quiet that day - not many tourists. We climbed up through stairs to a high platform that overlooked the plaza and many standing monuments. Too crowded for me. Again I broke off from the group to wander, I wanted to feel this place. Did this earth hold its memories - history of great wars, violent ball games?   Eventually I sat on the grass next to one of the memorial stones lining the path to the stairs of the pyramid - alone. Imagining the pageantry - the many kings and queens memorialized in carvings on now rugged walls and many stelae.  Although impressed by the height and grandeur of the building, it was the earth, the ground beneath that vibrated with the lives of the ancient Maya who created this thriving civilization two thousand years ago.

After the tour of the pyramid plaza and the ball court, we were pointed toward a tree-lined entrance that led into the jungle - a cloud forest.  Howler monkeys screeched, toucans squawked, and we were on notice to be aware of the beautiful bird called the quetzal.  A wide path led deeper into the forest and all our eyes were on the canopy, amateur birdwatchers for the day. Although I never saw the mythical quetzal, I knew where it lived and heard the sound of its call.  Myth and magic all in one spectacular day!  

To be continued.... (The Incident at Copan)  

 

WORD PAINTINGS #141 - GUATEMALA 1991 PART II - EASTER SUNDAY IN CHICHICASTENANGO

 

 "A dream is a wish your heart makes when you're fast asleep".  Remembering that day in 1956 when teachers Ms. Schaefer and Ms. Flynn regaled my Spanish class with colorful stories of their trip to Guatemala. Their excitement about spending Easter Sunday in an exotic-sounding place called Chichicastenango was joyful!!! Chills, goosebumps, their excitement was contagious! I said the strange name to myself over and over  "Chichicastenango"  - it needed to be tucked away - never forgotten.  Thirty-five years of  life passed....children, marriages, divorces, recovery. It was possible that our move from Chicago to the alien planet of Santa Fe, New Mexico, trips to Mexico - my life on the horse ranch in Truchas was as far as I would go. There would be no more surprises.   No time for my Dreams of Distant Places!  The name was almost lost to me until that morning in my Taos studio when I heard it again on the radio ad.  Shivers of anticipation. Nothing was holding me back (except for my agoraphobia). Excitement. Yes indeed, my much younger self jumped for pure joy. 

1991 - Walking through the plaza of Chichicastenango on Easter Sunday morning!!! Brilliant colors, clouds of incense, firecrackers -wonderful heart-stopping chaos! Christ is risen.   I couldn't breathe! I couldn't hold enough of the experience in my body. Noise, crowds of strangers , I was transported - five feet off the ground - having the most amazing experience of my life!!!!  A dream fulfilled! Following the cobblestone paths wherever they led I had a day full of adventure.Vendors with their bright weavings propped up on poles leaning against the walls of the houses lining the streets.   Some of the huipils still had a sweet smell of smoke - they had been woven on looms next to their home fires.  Food stalls, jewelry, pottery it was the best fiesta - a celebration of Life!  

The Cofradia processed to the Iglesia of Santo Tomas. Solemn. All my young girl Catholicism rushed back to life.  How much of their ancient religion was still there, covered by the pomp of these more modern rituals?  Their strong faces mirrored the sculptures in a museum we visited - in  Tikal and Copan. The Mayan culture that had "disappeared" was living and breathing right before my eyes.  The wonder and the mystery is still there.  Their culture survives in secret places - private rituals - heart prayers.  This might seem heretical to both cultures, but I have an idea that their ancient gods and our not so ancient saints are somehow all connected.  It is quite possible we all pray to the same God.

For most of my adult life I had been asleep to the ways of the world....until  Guatemala! Easter Sunday was only the beginning...... 

WORD PAINTINGS #140 - GUATEMALA 1991 - SEMANA SANTA PART I

BEARERS. OF LIGHT - COFRADIA, IGLESIA DE SANTO TOMAS - 1991

February 1991 - .While painting my Taos studio and listening to Joseph the Starwatcher's astrological forecast  one snowy January morning,  I heard an ad from the Center for Anthropological Studies announcing a group trip through Guatemala.  Having just sold a large canvas at my Santa Fe gallery, I thought "Eureka! my chance to get some good photographs for a new series of paintings!!! Inspired by Clark Hulings paintings of Mexico, this could be my ticket! Enamored by George Carlson's Tarahumara pastels, the fantastic work of Elias Rivera and Ramon Kelley's wonderful Mexican portraits, I was inspired to go to Guatemala.   The joke in all of this is that I am and always have been severely agoraphobic! What was I thinking?   Deciding to put it all on the line, I signed up and put my money down. Away I go!!!!

The tour was sponsored by an archaeologist and his wife from Albuquerque and led by an expert guide from Arizona. I missed the evening orientation because of the two hour night drive from Taos and figured it was no big deal. Thus everything I experienced in Guatemala came as a total surprise!  Our group assembled at the airport. My bags were packed and I was headed into the Great Unknown!  Buen Viajae!!!!

The airport in Guatemala City was dark and very dreary. Two men with machine guns stood at attention as we passed through, their eyes sharply focused on each and every one of us.  The money changer, protected by a bank-teller's type cage, was not at all friendly to a bunch of noisy Americans. Entering our hotel that first night we were again greeted by men with AK47s standing at the entrance.  Shock and Awe - my first clue that this trip for some photos might be quite an intense experience! Hah! What an understatement!  It would be life-changing!  Tremendous street noise from the traffic below my room and slight trepidation of my great adventure kept me awake that whole night.

A blessing ritual by a local shaman in who was celebrating his sobriety.  Circling a small fire, he said quiet  prayers to his ancient gods and poured a bottle of whiskey into the flames.  Six years into my own recovery, I was overwhelmed and gave him a hug.  My group buddies stared in disbelief through the bus windows.  Think I might have been inappropriate.  A long day of visiting sites with huge carved stone Olmec-inspired heads.  Have always felt that these heads in Central America originated from some ancient African culture - early explorers.  A small local "zoo" of four or five emaciated critters gave a first hint that Guatemala was not just an ordinary photo trip! 

Back to Guatemala City and the first market on our tour.  I took my a few photos in this strange place. Beyond excited by the colors I imagined these images filling all the blank canvases in my studio once back in Taos. We were warned that if we gave one child with their hand out, we would be swarmed by many more.  A very young girl came up to me with a small child who definitely looked as though he was dying. She said he was her baby brother and held out her little hand for a quetzal. Because of our strict warning, I refused.  Her desperation still haunts me. I know why families cross the Rio Grande!

 

The Procession on Good Friday shattered all my illusions about this trip. My head was still in that dreamy slowness of Taos.  Alfombras, colorful carpets of sawdust and flowers lined the streets. Huge crowds lined the cobblestone streets.  Heavy clouds of incense, strange and slow music could be heard in the distance with the heavy regular beat of a drum - a slow and heart stirring dirge.  The crowds parted to make way for the very long and heavy "anda". Eighty to 100 men dressed in purple satin robes and white gloves carried the float on their shoulders supporting a life-sized statue of Christ carrying His cross to Gethsemane. A wagon with the musicians playing the dirge followed behind. Another  much smaller anda followed carried by women in black.  They carried impressive statue of Mary robed in black with a halo of silver stars.  That night many vigils and prayers in the cathedral.  

A long trip from Antigua to Zunil on Holy Saturday.  On the way many chilling stories about kidnappings and disappearances and dire warnings to never travel that road at night - another hint that this might not be a casual photo trip.  I really was clueless!  Cars and busses crowded the town square. Our bus was early and got solidly hemmed in with no escape until the end of the festivities. A brilliant white church in the distance silhouetted by a blue-black stormy sky.  A group of twenty to thirty women in red huipils sat together in front of the church.

Our bus emptied out and I chose to stay behind to photograph from inside the bus. In the distance s a group of women in traditional Mayan dress were in deep conversation - hand-woven huipils - deep purples and blue, magentas and brilliant reds.  With camera lens on zoom I focused on the group. A young girl turned around and saw me, I was caught.  At that moment I truly became an Ugly American!  She glowered menacingly and I motioned that I was putting my camera away.  Chastised and ashamed, I got off the bus and began to wander alone.  A stage was set up in the center of the square for the Passion Play.  Found myself in a little co-op store run by local women to sell their weavings.  Was proudly able to use some broken Spanish and asked the ladies about their work. Their pride in their creativity and their community was a ray of sunshine

 

Soon the sweet smell of incense.... drums, flutes and men in back robes with tall ceremonial hats marched down a steep hill. The high priests of Zunil made their entrance!  Some carried matracas, large window shaped rattles. An eerie combination of noises....the actors assembled on the stage and the villagers played their parts soulfully. We headed back to Antigua before dark.  Was slowly waking to reality - this other world was definitely not the Land of Oz!

 

 

   

A couple of nights at Posada de Belen. Dampness - darkened mood - stories told and passed around about Sister Dianna Ortiz, a young nun from New Mexico who was kidnapped from this very place about 18 months earlier. Her book detailing her capture is told in The Blindfold's Eyes. Reality began to poke through - this was really not what I expected! 

 

As an artist, I am less a participant and more of an observer. I see pictures, details and my senses had been awakened to this place after reading A Forest of Kings: The Untold Story of the Ancient Maya by David Freidel and Linda Shele.  I needed to see the pyramids, those stelae - the trails of the ancient Maya!  I had to stand in those places!  Yes, I got what I wanted and more....much more than ever expected!!  Life changed me in ways I never saw coming!!  This was definitely no ordinary field trip!  TO BE CONTINUED - SEMANA SANTA PART II