mi libro

Don't quite know where to begin but I did see some nuns' drawers today drying on a line, in the middle of a beautiful garden. And some things that resembled bras and stockings. My mind was confused trying to process all that my eyes were digesting. Seemed funny at the time but in a weird way I wanted to confess. Long story short, we visited our friend Richard today; he has a few nuns residing at his beautiful home for a week or so. They were out doing God's work while we relaxed. Backing up a bit, I finished my book of nonsense. Derli invited us to his home in Morelia the other day to screenprint the cover and glue up a finished book. Great experience. Saw his extraordinary collection of Pre-Columbian artifacts, art, and limited edition artist books (printed while he worked for Brighton Press in San Diego). I've never felt more privileged to be working with such an accomplished artist. Derli Romero is a brilliant painter, printmaker, book artist, and now...a friend. Wow, wow, wow, and he bought us lunch at a cool little Chinese place near the university. The complete edition of 20 books will be produced at the Jesuita by October, but I'm bringing ONE home this weekend. Yeah!

Spent most of today attacking our garden— planting, pruning, potting—preparing for our return home. Ran around town picking up gifts for friends and family, including stone elephants, coffee, oil cloth, plastic bags featuring the Virgin de Guadalupe, lemon liqueur, cigars, and mescal from Oponguio. Hit the garden again, then ran a couple of plants over to friends. By the way, our street's being recobbled...hooray! Our dirty little street should be beautiful in three months, freshly cobbled with new sidewalks. Just in time for Dias de los Muertos. Can't wait. More randomness: I saw a guy outside my studio window this morning wrestling a squawking chicken trying to escape from under a piece of cardboard covering a plastic box tied to the back of his bicycle. Good times. We were planning on heading north tomorrow morning, but with the storms and all, maybe we'll leave on Saturday instead.

la fiesta de patrón santiago en sahuayo

Amazing road trip yesterday to Sahuayo, Michoacan's 479th festival honoring their patron saint, Santiago (St. James the Greater). Mardi Gras meets Carnival, we were definitely the only sober ones there. I was surprised to see Spiderman drinking. The day started with Bob and Rosa meeting up at Casa Brawner at 10am for coffee and sardines, then we set off towards Lake Chapala. We wanted to see what all the fuss was about. And we were also traveling with our friend, Santiago. Perfect. A partial list of the towns we traveled thru: Patzcuaro to Tingambato to Sevina, Nahuatzen, Cheran, thru Once Pueblas, near Patamban and Ocumicho, Loma Linda, Zamora, and a dozen other interesting little places. And dozens of topes (speed bumps) mostly noticed in advance. Everything was green and growing with majestic mountains as the backdrop for a fertile land. We saw strawberry fields and fields of corn, blue agave, squash, and catfish ponds. Wildflowers everywhere, including Indian Paintbrush, and men selling fresh, spiky red liche nuts and pitahaya on the roadside. Liche nuts taste kinda like plums or grapes, and the pitahaya were white and not quite as sweet as the magenta pitaya we had experienced. Both were weird, beautiful, and delicious. Saw lots of ornos (stacked brick ovens for making bricks), and lots of concrete teepee silos. Pulled into Sahuayo, then parked and walked several blocks to the main plaza in search of food and men wearing large feathered masks. Santiago steered us into a great little mom & pop, family-style eatery featuring an old man playing a grubby guitar (sounded good!). We ate the daily special and prepared ourselves for something else. Becky ran off with her camera in search of her Pulitzer while the rest of us shopped for zapatos (shoes) and walked towards the music. Saw a group of penguin clad folks jamming to a funky little band, then Wonder Woman and el Diabla walked by. We followed them and found ourselves in the midst of a constant stream of partygoers, Fred Flintstones, Luchadores, Pink Panthers, and a dozens of people festively dressed in LARGE masks. Children, too. So many bands, so much ponche (a drink made of pomegranate, chocolate, walnuts, coconut, apples, cinnamon, and cane alcohol), and all of the streets were lined with plastic chairs full of onlookers. After walking for awhile, a nice man asked if we'd like to sit with he and his family, so we did. He spoke English, said he lived in the States, and offered us the use of their baño. I guessed his family owned the business behind us. He said the two young boys next to me were his grandsons, so I said: "Me llama es Daniel. Como se llama?" To which they replied: "We're from LA; we're not from here." Many photos were taken and much confetti was thrown. The whole city was celebrating, and apparently it went on into the wee hours. The costumes were beautiful, and each mask weighed about 40 lbs. Many costumes included rows and rows of little aluminum tubes sewn onto the outfits like fringe. Heavy! Made a nice jingling sound. Met up with mi esposa at 6pm and everyone shared stories about what they'd seen, then we walked back towards our car and made plans to return next year for the 480th anniversary festival. Saw troupes of paraders resting beside their large hats near the basilica, and I tried one on. First one didn't fit but the next one was just right and nearly tore my nose off when I took it off. Amazing artistry goes into each one. So much thought and storytelling.

Drove the four hours home towards rain and lightning. And Servina was hoppin' on a Saturday night. Everyone out walking on wet streets, and boys on horseback were flirting with girls in pretty dresses. Came home exhausted and the dogs were fine, but they did break a cool bird-covered bowl we bought last year in San Jose de Gracia. Served us right. Our penance for leaving them behind...you guessed it...mortification of the flesh, and frisbee.

pasaporte a la muerte

Yeah, ok, the pic has nothing to do with my day but it's well worth $29 (about two bucks). Haven't watched it yet, but the cover and typography alone are worth atleast $20, and it's "a colores." Walked down to the ex-colegio this morning to trim pages for my book. The printmaking staff is on vacation but Derli made arrangements for me to still use the print shop. I'm in! A nice man who guards the Jesuita galleries lives directly across the street, where he and his wife own a very delicious chocolate shop; he let me in. Feels good to be there by myself and cranking their music up way too loud. Surprisingly, the print shop's musical taste is largely Bob Dylan, Janice Joplin, Ray Charles, and Cold Play Live. I spent most of the morning listening to Bob Dylan, cutting Japanese paper and red book cloth. The Jesuita is open from about 9am to 2pm (then, lunch), then it's open from 4-7pm. It's the typical Mexican day. Reminds me of Europe. Seems very humane and very condusive to a creative life. I started my walk home for lunch around 1:30pm, saw a dead fish in the street (looked like a crappie), then walked up Lerin past a man carrying a sink on his head. "¡LAVA...platos!" He yelled something like that, and he had a barotone voice perfect for radio. Amazing, lyrical, beautiful! Hell, maybe he was just crazy; he did have a sink on his head. You see that sort of thing a lot down here. Someone carrying one 2x4 down the street, or three plastic buckets, or twelve bird cages full of tropical birds, or a plastic pail containing one raw, dead chicken. I saw two kids carrying large baskets of pastries on their heads. I made it home before the rain, out of breath (the altitude at the print shop is about 7,200 ft, and Casa Brawner is about 7,500 ft...It inspires a lot of stopping and admiring). Ate yummy leftover pasta, then drove to Tzurumutaro with Becky to pick up a curtain rod and stairwell railing from the blacksmith, then back to the print shop to glue red book cloth to book board. Becky drove on home and I walked up later. On my walk home, I heard Johnny (the blind accordian player at Once Patios), saw some interesting spoons in the street, and some of those funny little discarded plastic prizes Andy was collecting. I'll pick them up on my way down tomorrow. Came home to a house full of doggies sporting pink-tipped ears courtesy of mi esposa —the doggie hairdresser—and chicken boiling in a pot. Then my pal Nemo turned on me, cursed me, and demanded frisbee.

flechas

Today contained a week's worth of inspiration, from pink walls to pink dogs. I began by walking down to the print shop to screenprint red arrows (flechas) on top of nonsense, lunched at La Surtidora (a 100 year old coffee shop) with Becky and Derli, gobbled down little cups of mango nieves, walked across Plaza Grande and printed more flechas, then over to Galleria La Mano Grafica to buy handmade Japanese paper (where I met Silvia Capistran and talked about meeting her and Artemio in Tacambaro next week). Then walked up Calle Lerin in the rain and into Casa Brawner with a newly painted PINK stairwell. Yeah. Helped Becky prepare a dinner of colorful organic Swiss Chard, crazy delicious eggplants, homemade Tuscan-style sausages from Zirahuen, and handmade Ricotta-like cheese. Dang! Followed by a delicious shot of homemade mescal from Tacambaro. A talented man wearing a rather large hat visits the printmakers weekly loaded down with plastic Ciel bottles full of spirits nestled in an old burlap bag. Tastes especially good served chilled.

Came home to emails from the editor of the Flannery O'Connor Review—a literary journal devoted to the Southern writer. Bruce Gentry wanted my opinion about the cover and interior which features my work. Cool. I'm very proud to be included in the journal which contains six of my pics and my commentary about the work. A very good day indeed. And dinner was amazing. It's cool in the mtns; my studio door is open to the night air; my belly is full, and the drive home and upcoming semester inspires me. But I'd be lying if I didn't admit to dreaming of a life south of the border.

dragon fruit (pitahaya)

Thursday night's party at Casa Brawner for the Ex-Colegio printmakers was just great. I'm going to miss my morning walks to the printmaking shop, and my new friends there. They're off for a well deserved vacation so we wanted to thank them for all they've done for us and our friends. They're world-class printers and artists. Becky wowed everyone with delicious eats, including catfish tacos and dragon fruit (discovered at a new Friday market and former biker bar), while I plied everyone with cervesas and margueritas. And the dragon fruit stole the show. CRAZY looking and very alien-like with BRIGHT magenta flesh and a kiwi-like texture and taste. Beautiful and delicious. All the food and party photos are by my multi-talented, beautiful esposa. More Spanish speakers than English were in attendance, plus one fine P'urhepecha man who taught everyone a few words of his native language. The party included a lovely couple of artists from Mexico City, a puppeteer (Felippe) from the Ex-Colegio, who is working on a new production of Peter y el Lobo for children in surrounding pueblitos (villages). We talked about trading a poster design in exchange for one of his puppets. Yeah! Derli was there with cute friends, including one girl who was good with a knife. Talented Carolina was practicing celebrating the success of her senior thesis exhibition the following night. Julian, Bob, Santiago, Lon, and others were all having a festive time enjoying good eats and good company with Elvis and Little Walter as the soundtrack for a creative evening.

¡Progreso!

My nonsense book is on the drying rack. Julian prepared the stone with gum arabic and a few drops of nitric acid and let it work its magic overnight. Then wiped the image away yesterday with turpentine, scraped the edges of the stone with a razor, brushed more nitric acid on to clean the edges, then Maestro Derli Romero began pulling proofs on newsprint. The press was adjusted to apply more pressure and a final proof was printed on good paper. Everyone seemed pleased with the final results considering what they had to work with. It's a grubby little book but I'm excited to see it coming together. Julian printed thirty sheets with Carolina Ortega and a friend while I cut book boards in preparation for the screenprinted cover, interior icons and typography. The amazing printmaking crew is going on a two week vacation in a couple of days so we're having a little thank you party at Casa Brawner tonight. Hope Julian brings his harmonica.

birds walking left…my left.

My edition of ten etchings is finished. Four for the Ex-Colegio's permanent collection, which travels periodically, five for me, and one for the printer, Julian. Beautifully printed on creamy Hahnemühle paper. It was a great experience, and I'll definitely be working with drypoint more. It's very raw, just scratching images directly into a copper plate, inking, wiping, soaking paper, and printing.

dummy to stone

Uploaded commercial pics this morning around 1:30 am to meet my Monday morning deadline, then began scribbling on a stone promptly at 10am. It all began with transferring my drawings by placing them face down on sanguine-prepared paper, then tracing over each line to properly transfer the drawing. Then re-drawing them with litho crayon. It took all day to transfer nine pages of nonsense. Nonsense based upon real and imaginary people and plants I've encountered while in Mexico this summer.

Curious how the physical surface you're working on changes things. I'm usually working on a super flat surface that weighs practically nothing. Stone is heavy and it's thick. You move; it doesn't. It changes how you draw but not what you draw. And the preparation necessary to begin is tedious, requiring some time grinding the stone down, grinding away former beautiful drawings or mistakes. You're thinking: "Don't make a mistake or I'll have to grind that damn stone again." But you shouldn't think about such things, really. Just draw and forgive minor "mistakes." So today was a really pleasant day spent with my friend Bob, a day full of drawing and forgiveness…and good tunes.

¡Más cucharas!

Si, more spoons. I got a whole bunch of 'em now, and I may just glue them into and all over my sketchbook. The neighbors must think I'm crazy or really lucky to be finding so much money in the streets. I swear, I've got the whole town looking down for gold and silver. Ha. Funny thing about collecting, you start to get really picky. Last week I would pick up just any ol' filthy little spoon, but now I'm all sophisticated-like…leaving the ordinary to disappear into the dust forever run over by collectivos, firewood-laden horses, and vintage VWs, forgotten…choosing only the best, most bent, smashed, twisted and colorful. White is nice but you can't beat color, and every now and then, a rubberband surprises.

Worked all day in the studio. Commercial gigs are upon me, but I did make a little book dummy for Clutch y Frenos. All this technology available to me in my modest studio only to discover that stone requires cheap photocopies for a proper transfer. Something to do with chemistry and bad ink being better than good. So I walked down to Plaza Grande to a copy center/internet cafe. A lovely woman asked someone behind me if they needed "copias." I turned around and saw no one. Embarassed, I quickly realized her eyes wandered every which way, over and around me, but not at me. So she proceeded to make some off-centered, crooked copies for me. Walked across the street to buy 14 pesos worth of mango ice cream in a tiny plastic cup and ate it sitting on a stone bench with a clean white spoon. Rico!

Tomorrow, I'm transferring childhood imagery and collageness to a beautiful stone surface, then I have about two days to screw it up. Scribble, scribble, scribble. I think my book needs more Angel's Trumpet. Sent my type off today to have screens burned for the cover, etc. Hopefully, I'll come home with some finished nonsense books that measure about 6in x 6ft. We'll see.

clutch & brakes

Too sleepy to write much, but this is pretty much what I did today: walked down to the print shop to transfer imagery and make test scribbles on stone just to get the hang of it, lunched at our favorite eatery located behind a Pemex station (Camino Real), bought a clay pot, bought eggs and cereal, then almost got us killed making a u-turn on a dangerous curve in the road in order to photograph a cool sign, so my book of nonsense drawings will have a title. Clutch y Frenos (Clutch & Brakes). I used to think it read Clutch & Friends. Funny. Came home to hungry dogs, walked upstairs to watch clouds shifting and morphing into a medley of N.C. Wyeth adventure paintings, waited for that little red bird to visit us (and it did, but our camera battery pooped out), then the full moon made an appearance. It's so beautiful down here. Best trip ever.

corpus Christi y papas

Yesterday was a full day. Spent most of it in Cucuchucho (it's taken me four years to learn how to say that), gawking, walking, and collecting. Hiked UP above the town for hours with Becky, Bob, and our trusty guide Didier, along animal paths and fire breaks, beneath orchid-laden Oak-like trees…poked regularly by very pointy agave plants (I'm still bleeding!). It was a great day. After our hike, we drove down to C-town for the Corpus Christi celebration. Seems a bit late, but what do I know about the Solemnity of the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ...I'm a Methodist. But I may convert to Catholicism after experiencing all this pageantry, partying, and wicked costumes. Six bandas played for hours; people wearing painted masks, dressed in traditional Purepecha finery, and some dressed like Davy Crockett or fish. Kids were CUTE and dancing up a storm; the women were lovely, and house parties were everywhere. And the music and spicy homemade potato chips were excellent. What's not to love?! Afterwards, we eased down to a muy rustico lakeside eatery for fish soup, baked trout, homemade tortillas, HOT habanero salsa, corundas and cervesa. Drove home sated.

¡Un libro fantástico!

Last night I had the great pleasure of going to an amazing art opening at the Ex-Collegio. The event, which included a lecture and live music, celebrated the completion of a fully illustrated, handprinted artist book featuring Jose Ruben Romero's collection of poems: "Tacambaro." A collaboration between Juan Pascoe and Artemio Rodriguez, the book contains 72 black & white blockprints by Rodriguez. The text was typeset by hand (letter by letter); each page was beautifully composed, and the final books were printed on handmade paper with a 1838 R. Hoe Washington Press by Pascoe's Taller Martin Pescador. It's a handsome book and a remarkable achievement. The exhibition fills two galleries, including a nice display of Romero's original 1922 book, Rodriguez's tools, and a few of his carved blocks. It was great to meet the illustrator/printmaker, and to reconnect with master printer, Juan Pascoe, who I met a few years ago at his home in Tacambaro. Last night I reminded him that the last time we saw one another, he said: "Hey Dan, come back sometime and let's print together." So now it looks like I'm going to Tacambaro next weekend…where I hope to set a few words and print them in his taller (shop). It was an inspiring night, and now I'm the proud owner of a first edition, signed copy of "Tacambaro." I can't wait to share it with my friends, family, and students back home.

las dos ratas

Wow, I really need to clean my scanner.

mujeres y zapatos

Back to beautiful Morelia today to pick up supplies and see "Mujer" (Woman) at Museo de Arte Contemporaneo Alfredo Zalce (MACAZ)—a 19th century building located in the Cuauhtemoc Woods Park on Acueducto Avenue. Powerful lithographs by Fanny Rabel of the Taller Grafica Popular stole the show in my opinion, but upon leaving the museum a "gum" tree won the day. Between the museo and the aqueduct, near the entrance, there's a crooked tree leaning over the sidewalk COVERED with bubble gum. Crazy, nasty fun. I don't know the trees of Mexico very well but I'm guessin' it was a Sweet Gum. Reminds me of a canoe trip Becky and I took several years ago with friends, David and Kathy Wariner (parents of one of Those Darlins), down the Blue River in Crawford County, Indiana. We gathered (saved from certain death) a garbage bag full of trilliums, short-crested iris, wild ginger, indian pinks and jack-in-the-pulpits, and we had lunch afterwards at a riverside cafe. We ordered hamburgers and french fries, and before we finished, the cook invited us back into his kitchen to watch the Kentucky Derby. Seems like he won some money so he plied us with liquor in a dry county (it's not illegal to give it away). As we left the cafe I saw a funky little handpainted sign nailed to a telephone pole that read: Shoe Tree. I asked David about it and he said: "It's a big ol' tree that people have thrown shoes up into for years." I said: "I want to see that!" So we drove south of Milltown to the intersection of Devil's Hollow and Pilot Knob Road, the intersection of nowhere and there. There we saw an enormous tree full of shoes and other shoes hanging on telephone wires and nestled in the weeds. So of course we hopped out and flung the grounded shoes back up into the tree. I don't remember what we did after visiting the Shoe Tree, but I do remember having a great time and wishing our friends still lived in Nashville.