centro cultural clavijero

Too much, too much, too much. Forgot to mention seeing a fantastic international poster exhibition at the Centro Cultural Clavijero last week. 10a. Bienal Internacional del Cartel en Mexico…AMAZING! There must've been 100 enormous posters exhibited in one of Morelia's most beautiful art museums. I recognized only a couple of designers from the States—Lanny Sommese and Paul Davis—favorites of mine since I was in college. But the real standouts for me, for inventive imagery and original type design, were Japan's Linda Ritoh (sculptor, graphic designer, and typographer) and the creepy modernist creations of the legendary Kazumasa Nagai. Limited color, beautiful compositions, odd...Yeah!

lost

Wow, wow, great weekend. Met our friends: Didier (and his dog, Chanel), Bob, Rosa, and their son, Earl,  and drove to Ihuatzio (Place of the Coyotes) for a hike above, around and back to its pre-Columbian pyramids. We hiked part of the Camino Real (an ancient walking path connecting Ihuatzio to Tzintzuntzan) to the top of a small mountain for a beautiful view of Ihuatzio’s twin pyramids, Lake Patzcuaro, the isle of Juanitzio, and the mtns beyond. Five minutes after we left our parked cars, I lost mi esposa. Most of us  took a fork in the path (right), but Becky was so moved by the scenery and photo opportunities that when she came to the proverbial fork in the road…she took it (left). Bob and I waited for her on an incline while she descended towards stone fences and no one waiting below. We waited and she waited and we waited and she waited, and then I walked back for her,  calling: “Becky!” And she finally replied: “I’m down here!…where were you…why didn’t you wait on me?!” (Some time passed.) Then we shared the beautiful vista with everyone. Small plants were collected, I mean saved from certain ruin. Then we all hiked across gorgeous farmland between stone fences up to a pine forest populated with agave plants and beautiful wildflowers. The smell of pine perfumed the air. We walked thru curious rock formations caused by ancient volcanic eruptions, more stacked rock fences, and small rock dams designed to prevent erosion, then we hiked down thru farm lanes and past a farmer working his fields with a horse and plow. Down to the highway for orange drinks at a tiny market and a long walk back thru Cucuchucho where we saw four men in a walled area carrying a giant hog with a knife in its heart. Then it started raining. Becky was feeling funky so when a friend of Didier’s happened to drive up, we asked if he would give us a ride back to Ihuatzio. He kindly agreed and drove us to our car. Then it really started pouring. So we drove back for our amigos; everyone piled into our little red Element, and we headed home. Checked on our doggies back in Patzcuaro then drove down to Casa de la Real Aduana for a hearty, delicious meal of hamburgers, fries, a killer salad, and black Agave mescal served in British silver laced shot glasses. Malbec made an appearance, as did Aduana’s secret weapon, Gemma. All enjoyed in a beautiful dining room full of exquisite furniture, crafts, corkscrews, and walls lined with Cindy Sherman, Joel Peter Witkin and Didier Dorval photographs. All set to good tunes and good stories followed by yummy chocolate mousse. Afterwards, the women escaped the men and returned to their respective casas while the guys stayed up late watching Chinatown with cervezas in the media room full of Rufino Tamayo, Judith Deim, Dali, and Walker Evans. Pinch me; surely I’m dead or dreaming. I walked home inspired across a Plaza Grande filled with live music and festive people, turned right on Doctor Cos past Once Patios, over and left and and up the heart-pounding super steep Calle Naverette, then right on Calle Lerin past the carniceria and the parked trucks with crazy great toppers, left on muy rustico Calle Claviero into Casa Brawner Sur and everyone sleeping. Aaah. ZZZ!

Sunday, we met Bob, Rosa and Earl in front of Patzcuaro’s museum where the pastry folks set up. Great place to meet up in case anyone arrives late. Yum. Didier and super cute, wrinkley Chanel met us there to see us off. Sadly, they couldn’t join us but we had a good chat and a donut. Then we all set off for Morelia’s flea market and were almost immediately separated from one another, then reunited, then separated again, but not before finding lots of bootleg cds, yummy eats, torn comic books, and albums featuring funny men sporting sombreros and mugs of beer. The Sunday fleamarket in Morelia is a maze of covered streets full of people shopping, selling and eating. I’ll always regret not buying a medical mannequin that spilled its plastic guts. Becky and I had a couple of yummy popsicles then reconnected with Bob and Rosa who had lost their son. After awhile we pretty much gave up on ever seeing Earl again so we all decided to enjoy a delicious comida at the Hotel Vierrey’s sidewalk cafe. (Some time passed and Earl miraculously reappeared). Then Becky and I drove home to find two dogs very upset we’d left them behind.

cucharas

Back from the Friday market with a replacement flower pot, a cool dark rose, a climbing something, avocados, cilantro, and fresh, hot tortillas. And a plastic bag full of used (cucharas) spoons. Yeah! Thanks to our recent guests, now I'm looking down for inspiration instead of up. Amazing what you can find down there. Of course there's the usual dirt, rocks, candy wrappers and bottle caps, but also, TONS of plastic spoons. Which is pretty telling I guess; Patzcuaro's famous for its nieves (ice cream), and everyone around here has a powerful sweet tooth (which probably accounts for the alarming number of dentist offices in town). It's definitely a great place to graze. Seems every few steps one is tempted by gigantic sugar wafers or sugared peanuts or foot-long crueller-like donuts or amazing ice cream served in little upside down hat-like wafers or cotton candy or flavored ices or sugar cookies filled with jam. There must be fifty panaderias (bakeries) in this town. Two seconds ago a man walked down our street yelling: "FRESAS CON CREMA, DAMNIT!" (strawberries & cream. He didn't really say damnit). He carried two woven straw baskets full of the wonderfulness but I wasn't tempted. And this morning the popsicle girl kept ringing her jingley-jangley bells outside my window at 10am. Wasn't exactly Pop Goes the Weasel, but maybe our dirty little street really is paradise.

ave maria

Off to the Friday market in search of odd birds, plants and pottery. Scribbling this afternoon. Looking forward to hiking above the Tarascan pyramids in Ihuatzio tomorrow, and traveling to the Sunday fleamarket in Morelia. (Detail of my drypoint etching "birds walking left" above)

mayan extra

it manufactures of matches and fosforos
the independent one worn for sale
it be closed before to be used
contained 50 matches

manola elegante

match seller the head office
before being lit
50 matches of security
it closes of before to be lit

corrupt straw hat

The suit of the man from to horse
of velvet and razo
with galon tie of organza
with blanket and sombrero

Freetranslation Spanglish Trash Poem #1. Image courtesy of our little dirt corner. Inspired by the ultimate gleaner, Andrew Saftel.

Ex-Collegio Jesuita

Well, our guests traveled home safely on Sunday and Monday; the temperature's dropped twenty degrees since they departed, and our fireplaces are roaring. Love this weather. The rainy season is fantastic—cool, clean, and the whole town smells like woodsmoke. The sky is beautiful tonight and I'm thinking about time spent printmaking last week with old and new friends. The fine folks at the Ex-Collegio Jesuita (Derli Romero and Julian) were extremely generous and taught us all a thing or two about printing. Andy Saftel got the ball rolling by teaching Steve and me about drypoint, and how to prepare, ink, and properly wipe a plate. He provided copper plates, and I donated ink to the shop. Since Andy and Steve were headed back to Tennessee before me, their editions were printed first, just in time for their trip home. Beautiful. Andy created a compelling image of a curious man in a boat; Steve created a feisty luchador, and I scratched four birds walking left. After coming up with images, we gathered around my dining table to begin working on the thin sheets of copper. Andy suggested we take our plates outside and rub them against the stone patio to create an interesting background (great idea!), then we started drawing and scratching on the plates with a twisted etching stylus, and burnishing down “mistakes.” After a late night of artmaking and squeezing limes, the next morning we walked down to the shop to pull proofs and see what we had. We made adjustments to the drawings there and later at Casa Brawner. Then back to the Ex-Collegio the following day for finishing touches and final printing. Excellent work was created in such a short amount of time in the beautiful 16th century ex-Jesuit college (which is also an exhibition space and cultural center). So great, and only about six blocks away. We had a impromtu dinner party back at the ranch on Thursday night to celebrate the week. Steve belted out the blues on a cheap guitar from Paracho, and Julian played a mean harmonica while Andy banged on a plastic bucket used for stirring dirt paint. Sounded amazing. Good times. Can't wait to get back down to the shop tomorrow to print my edition and begin a new book project.

¡Jesus Christ!

A week+ has passed and so much has happened at Casa Brawner Sur. Full days of walking, talking, looking and listening, followed by late nights of cooking, eating, laughing, and scribbling leaves little time for posting. Dear friends, Susan Knowles, Andy Saftel, and Stephen Jones arrived last week. Early morning walks to gather pastries in front of Pátzcuaro's Museo Regional de Arte Popular and fresh squeezed orange juice on Calle Lerin; day trips to Capula and Tzintzunzan in search of handmade pottery and 500 year old olive trees; late nights of drawing, storytelling and bebidas; scratching on copper plates, music and rooftop silliness. Whew! It all started with Steve arriving … I handed him a house key, a marguerita and showed him to his room where he soon learned to appreciate the siren sound of rooftop dogs and Gas Express. A worldly guy and an exceptional talent, the following morning I gave Steve a walking tour of Patzcuaro–its main plazas, cemetery and mercado–and he immediately embraced it all. After breakfast with Becky and a killer view at the Hotel Basilica we visited La Basilica de Nuestra Señora de la Salud, Galleria La Mano Grafica, and the amazing printmaking studio in the 16th century Ex-Collegio Jesuíta (Church and Former Jesuit College). Then we enjoyed fried chicken and onion rings with Martin and Bob that night. 2,000 photos and one luchador etching later, I think Steve found what he hoped he would find in Mexico. Susan and Andy arrived a couple of days later after delays caused by storms and flooding in Dallas. Our amigo Francisco picked them up in Leon and delivered them safe and sound to Patzcuaro. They unpacked their bags and we immediately ventured off to Ihuatzio with Steve, Bob and Rosa, and one of our guardian angels, Santiago, for the town’s Corpus Christi celebration. Surrounded by hundreds, we saw dozens of people throwing plastic pots, toys and mops off balconies while the town’s band played in the background…and the town’s people reached for the airborn goodies. We were the only gringos and felt very welcome. Pyramids and rattlesnakes followed, as well as a beautiful sunset over Lago de Patzcuaro, Cucuchucho, and Tzurumutaro. We dined at a cool little café on Plaza Grande and made plans for an adventurous week.

chico blanco

¿la yarda de orina?

I've often thought our dogs had a sense of humor and a creative bent. But it wasn't until this trip that their vision—a collaborative effort—exhibited itself so clearly. Granted, it's no Andres Serrano, but the results are equally acidic and decidedly humorous. We have a tiny courtyard garden with a small grassy area surrounded by tropicial plants and fruit trees. Our dos perros pee freely and artfully kill the grass in one corner of the yard. (I'm not sure, but I think it's a portrait of me.) I think they like living in Mexico, or they really hate me for bringing them here.

What a difference catfish can make.

One evening a million years ago I had dinner with my family at The Chariot on Nolensville Road. I know it was a Thursday night because they had a catfish special on Thursday nights, and we would go often. There, we ran into Leathers Maddox, a friend of my father's and a respected landscape painter (with a very cool name). When he learned I was an illustrator, he told me about a friend of his who had passed away recently, a retired art director from Genesco who spent his retirement years painting portraits. His widow wanted to sell some of his things: his paint, brushes, morgue file, easel, paintings. He gave me her number and I visited her the very next day. It was a fascinating, sad, and thrilling experience to peek into his private life, his process, and have access and the opportunity to buy his stuff. I bought a lot. I have treasured it and learned from it. Visiting his tiny studio space, I saw evidence of a tinkerer's mind. He had rigged an old large format camera up to serve as a projection device and had lots of notes and reference materials to indicate he was interested in photography and how it could aid in his portrait commissions. Possibly, accidently, inadvertantly, he created some beautifully surreal photographs while learning about f-stops and lighting. I'm incorporating some of his photos of a curious wigged mannequin into new collage works, although they are perfectly beautiful just as they are.

Another day in paradise

Walked down to the ex-Collegio this morning to introduce Becky to Derli and talk about the stone lithography process. He selected a couple of German stones for us, and Julian started grinding the surfaces with carborundum in preparation for our images. Becky's thinking about making a book of floral images, which I think is a fantastic idea. So I'm going to copy it. Actually, I'm thinking about making some random sketchbook drawings for an accordian-fold little book, or 100 views of Patzcuaro, or, of course...rooftop dogs. We'll see. I hope to begin drawing on a stone Monday morning. Then borrow Bob's ladder and try a fried chicken place he's been talking about. After visiting the printmaking lab, we walked down to the mercado to buy honey, porkchops, plums, spinach, cheese, tortillas, onions, grapefruit, radishes, limes, vino, and donuts. The honey guy was very friendly and had a wide selection of honey-related items, including a little jar of black chunky stuff. Looked like old, dirty beeswax. I said: "Como?" and pointed to it. In perfect Spanish, he told me exactly what it was and what it did in great detail, but I don't speak much Spanish. I think he said it's good for your heart, then he handed me a small chunk, which of course I popped into my mouth and immediately wondered when I'd become violently ill. Tasted exactly like old, dirty beeswax. Anyways, it didn't kill me and I think it made me stronger. Bought some flowers then headed back up the hill where I pitted plums, made a wrestler, and Becky outdid herself by preparing an amazing meal for our amazing friends, Bob and Rosa. I hear a dog barking (not ours), crickets chirping, and traffic on the libramiento.

No, Tip, No

Down to the ex-Collegio this morning to deliver supplies and meet with Derli Romero about something of a schedule for drawing and printing. I met my friend Bob there for a morning of sketching, storytelling and invention, then wandered down to the Plaza Chica for seafood cocktails on plastic stools at Mariscos de Colores. Then coffee at Lilian's on Plaza Grande, then a couple of inspiring hours with Didier and Gemme at the extraordinary Casa de Real Aduana for orchids, vino, and silliness. Back to Casa Brawner Sur for a nice dinner and marguaritas with mi esposa, then met with Patisson about fixing our ridiculous garage door, and more cutting and pasting accompanied by Nemo's snoring. Tomorrow, mercado, more ex-Collegio, and dinner at our place with friends, probably including some fine homemade plum chutney from a sweet little jardin on Calle Cedro.

A Power Primer

Spent most of the day crouched over my drawing table cutting & pasting paper ephemera into a handmade book of childhood exercises, adding photos discovered in the morgue file of a deceased painter. Looks like 30-40 pages so I hope to complete the book by the end of June. If there's a theme developing, it's quite by accident, but it appears to be: women & men. Or, birds and fountains. Tomorrow, we're off to Tupátaro!—home of the Sistine Chapel of Mexico. I met the architect, Enrique Luft, responsible for restoring the chapel, at an exhibit of his paper clip paintings last year. He's a very interesting presence in Patzcuaro and can usually be found standing on a corner wearing overalls and a cool pointy hat.