Our ofrenda, 2022 |
"Every man's life is a fairy tale written by God's fingers." Hans Christian Andersen
Sunday, October 22, 2023
Remembering Deceased Loved Ones
Sunday, November 06, 2022
Dia de Muertos
Sunday, October 02, 2022
Dance of Death
Over the years I have come to realize my best artwork elicits strong reactions and not necessarily favorable. People have cried in front of my paintings. I have been assaulted in fury, with invectives hurled. Folks have swooned.
Keeping Score, oil on linen, 28 x 22 inches c. 1996 |
French, Middle Ages |
The biggest annual festival in Oaxaca is Dia de Muertos, or Day of the Dead. It is time of remembrance and celebration of souls departure from this earthly existence. Most Mexicans consider death as not just a misfortune but also an ultimate state of liberation. Many positive images associated with the skeleton can be found in Mexican culture.
Detail from Pieter Breughel the Elder, Triumph of Death, 1562 |
Monday, September 05, 2022
Where is Your Blog?
The first of my 720 blog posts was written and uploaded 16 years ago: Friday, September 29. 2006. The average novel contains about 80,000 words. There are 587,287 words in Tolstoy’s great novel, War and Peace. I am reading it now, for the second time. (I first read it when I was eighteen years old.)
My Fairytale Life⏤taken together as a whole, is my War and Peace.
When Amy and I returned from a sojourn to Europe in May and June, our village celebrated its annual festival after two years of cancellations due to the pandemic. San Pedro Ixtlahuaca puts on a feast of sights and sounds, especially at night with the whirling dancers with fireworks strapped to their bodies.
Amy's two paintings, and Steven's "Rooster Serenade." |
Within a month we set out again for three weeks, this time driving from Oaxaca to Santa Fe New Mexico, USA, 1720 miles and four days. Amy also flew to Nebraska and did a workshop during that time. We brought three paintings with us and delivered them to collectors in Albuquerque and Santa Fe. The drive from southern Mexico into the USA is long and arduous, though entertaining too. Those days could be chapters in a book not written about here.
Our storage unit in Santa Fe is where we have art stored. We sold about ten pieces during our visit.
We returned in time for the finale of Guelaguetza at the end of July. The Guelaguetza, or Los lunes del cerro, is an annual indigenous cultural event that takes place in the city of Oaxaca, capital of the state of Oaxaca, and nearby villages. The celebration features traditional costumed dancing by gender-separated groups. The parade we witnessed through the streets of downtown was jubilant, stirring, colorful, full of music, with costume and dance and totally pleasing to the crowds lining the avenues.
Taking advantage of the rainy season we planted some big trees around our property. Everyday I begin work after breakfast by cutting brush and waist high grass, surveying our precious trees and plants for evidence of insect damage or blight and tending to needs of our cultured “plantas.” The big issue now is grasshoppers by the millions. They eat all the time! I have to spray poison. Today when I went out to a corner of the property I seldom visit, a mature nopal cactus had toppled down because of the weight of its paddles. If I had been more perceptive, I would have trimmed it.
Our neighbor children have come on Sundays for free art projects that we sponsor. Our hearts are becoming intertwined.
There is plenty to write about each week.
Sunday, November 07, 2021
Change of Season
Last weekend’s Dia de Muertos celebrations burst with color, sight and sounds. In downtown Oaxaca, marching bands, street performers, face painting and people dressed in "muertos" costumes injected excitement everywhere. The festivities were for about four days.
Some fields around our home in the little village of San Pedro Ixtlahuaca came alive with color as crops of marigolds and cockscomb, timed for Dia de Muertos arrived in full bloom on schedule. Then with a rush, people swept in and bought all the flowers, taking them home for ofrenda altars, to decorate entries, setting them at the graves of loved ones or decorating businesses.
Sunday, October 31, 2021
Our Ofrenda
“ The most acceptable offering to God Himself comes from a grateful and joyful heart. " - William Shakespeare
Sunday, October 24, 2021
Dia de Muertos
Dia de Muertos, or “Day of the Dead,” always sounded strange to me; like a zombie movie or something. In English, the word ”dead” has a lifeless connotation. “Day of the Ancestors” is really the meaning. I like that. We honor our ancestors and want them always near us. We hope to have good relationships with our loved ones that have gone before us. So we talk with them. They pray for us and we pray for them.
Seated at our table, (for awhile). |
Although we are going into our dry season here in Oaxaca, fields of color can be seen. Marigolds bloom to be harvested just in time for Dia De Muertos celebrations. Also Cockscomb with its brilliant crimson color.
Detail from "Memento Mori" by Steven Boone |
Detail from a painting in progress by Amy Cordova Boone |
Amy is working on finishing an ofrenda painting. I just finished “Memento Mori,” a painting with the theme of the inevitability of death.
Stay tuned for next posts . . .
More about Dia De Muertos
Sunday, November 04, 2018
Oaxaca and Day of the Dead
We are situated in an apartment just two blocks from the town center. Our comfortable room is in a complex belonging to an elderly Mexican woman, Maria, who shares her extra space. Amy is conversational in Spanish.
We have been in Oaxaca four days but it feels like we are living lifetimes. Mornings start out quiet and relaxed with barely traffic, then as the day progresses everything intensifies. By evening lines of cars move slowly on the avenues that are open and people flood streets in the center that are closed to traffic. Families are in costume and many people parade with painted faces. Clusters of musical groups abound, often accompanied by costumed dancers. I love the strong brass sections that always have tuba players that huff and puff along with the drummers belting out percussion.
Naomi, along with Maria's family |
The first night of the holiday, Amy and I hired a taxi and went to Xoxo (pronounced ho-ho) cemetery, an old, intimate resting place for the dead that is known by locals as the best place to have the real experience. We arrived at dusk and stayed until after nightfall. Families brought huge bundles of flowers and marched to the graves of their loved ones to place the blooms and light candles. We were careful at all times not to step on graves. We saw a big foreign man sitting on tombs while taking pictures and knew he did not know how to respect the place. I could hear Amy praying in Spanish as we went. I took photos of candles and tombs. Early in the evening we came upon a small group of locals sitting by the grave of a loved one. An old woman caught my eye and I asked to take her picture. She said something and nodded. Afterward Amy told me she had agreed and said, “Yes, because I will fly away very soon.”
Isais Jimenez and Amy Cordova |
Events continue to unfold and yesterday a wonderful wood carver whose father is very famous drove with his wife from a nearby village to retrieve us and take us home. Isais is the son of artist Manuel Jimenez Ramirez (December 9, 1919 – March 4, 2005) who is a legend in southern Mexico. He and his family carry on the tradition begun by the father of painted wood carvings that are magical (alebrijes). Amy illustrated a book about Manuel, called Dream Carver. It is about a young boy who has visions to make wooden animals. He wants them wild and wonderful, different than the traditional carvings of his people. The animals he sees in his dreams are ones that he carves and decorates. The text is written by Amy’s friend, Diana Cohn.
Isais, with the carving he gave us. |
To our surprise Isais has made a museum to his father and on the walls surrounding the museum are huge mural copies of Amy’s illustrations. We were treated very warmly and talked with Isais about how to revive the book, which is out of print. He said he is asked every day for copies. As our time with Isais concluded he took us into the showroom and with a wave told us to choose any painted wood carving we wanted. Amy and I both gasped because the artwork is very valuable—and masterpieces. Isais would not let us offer any money. We chose a sculpture and Isais had his son wrap it, then we got back in his Chevy Suburban and drove the forty five minutes back into town.
Before we left he said, “You are both part of our family now.”