Muro Vivo—Living Walls

Mexico has been at the center of major international headlines recently after the government carried out an operation that resulted in the death of Nemesio Oseguera Cervantes, known as “El Mencho,” leader of the Jalisco New Generation Cartel — one of the most powerful criminal organizations in the country. Assisted by the CIA in the United States, an ambush was accomplished and El Mencho was killed, along with others on both sides. The immediate result was celebration but also a wave of violence that swept across Mexico. The images of burning vehicles were rather gruesome.

Since then, numerous of our friends and loved ones have been calling us, asking, Are you safe? Are you okay?

We are. Thank God we are well — safe and living our ordinary, creative life in our home outside Oaxaca City, in a region still regarded as calm and secure. Life here remains grounded in daily rhythms, the friendliness of neighbors, and the simple joy of sunrise light on the mountains.

We are even planning a short trip to the coast for a special celebration. Before making any definite plans, we asked a neighbor who runs a coffee cooperative near the Pacific and travels often along the new highway whether it feels peaceful. He checked with his daughter, who lives close to our favorite beach town — and the word was reassuring: the road is calm, the coast is peaceful.

In other news, this past week my neighbor Mayolo came over for a painting session with me. We set up a still life of sunflowers in a vase, with an alebrije set next to it. Over the course of two session we painted side by side. Very enjoyable and Mayolo, a creative person who makes the frames for many of our paintings, was very appreciative of the opportunity to paint together. 

And yes, my creative currents continue to pull me in new directions. I completed a short video titled Muro Vivo, or “Living Wall.” For years, I’ve photographed street art all over Oaxaca. In this new piece, an AI animation platform was used to bring those images to subtle movement, like walls awakening with breath — a little magic and a little experiment.

Meanwhile, Amy paints steadily, losing and finding herself in color and shape every day.

So — despite unsettling news and distant violence, life goes on here. We are safe. We are creative. We are grateful for friends near and far who care. And through it all, the sunflowers still turn toward the light.

Uncharted, Once More — Into the Digital Unknown

 

Another Sunday, another reckoning with whatever imaginative wind has blown this week.

Creative currents have swept me into unfamiliar territory. For better or worse, this has always been my temperament. Experiment and learn. Take risks. Wander into unmapped terrain. Refuse to stay fixed on the same route simply because it is known, profitable, and comfortable.

This time it is video that calls—street photography woven into motion, and AI animation that produces short clips which can be spliced together into something resembling a film. A moving collage. A dream stitched frame by frame.

I have rudimentary skills—enough to splice images together, add sound, create transitions. Over the years I’ve made more than one hundred short videos that live on YouTube, quietly gathering viewers and subscribers. That alone once felt daring. 

Short clip of an outing in Oaxaca. About 2.5 minutes.

But recently there has been a dive into deeper water.

Using a sophisticated creation and editing software called Runway, with a prompt and a photograph, it can generate short animated clips—moments that breathe, faces that turn, streets that flicker into motion. It feels a bit like alchemy.

Half the time, the first attempt misses the mark, the second veers into absurdity and the third surprises me. I fumble with settings. watch tutorials, mutter. Then, generate, discard, regenerate. Gradually, fragments accumulate. And eventually, there is enough material to assemble an intriguing short film.

Short clip of Vincent Van Gogh. About 2 minutes.

It is both thrilling and humbling.

Why do this?

Because it is deeply satisfying to sit in the director’s seat from start to finish—and also be the author. To imagine something that did not exist, and then coax it into being. To orchestrate image, motion, rhythm, and sound. There is a childlike delight in it. A sense of play mixed with stubborn determination.

Yet, a feeling of quiet guilt.

My other loves—painting, photography, writing, have been faithful companions spanning decades. Am I abandoning them for a shiny new fascination? They are never far away. In truth, they flow into this new work. The eye trained as a photographer guides the frame and uses an image to begin. The painter thinks in light, color and shadow. The writer shapes the prompt, searches for tone, listens for story.

Still, there are moments when I feel in water over my head. The technology is already dense and advances faster than I can absorb it. Menus, tools, timelines—so many levers and switches. At seventy-three, one could reasonably decide to simplify. To consolidate. To refine what is already mastered and stay in a niche.

But that has not been my way.

I am still willing to be a beginner. Still willing to look foolish. Still willing to wrestle with something difficult simply because it calls to me.

There is joy in grappling. Joy in not knowing and in watching a small competence slowly grow. The process is awkward, sometimes maddening—but alive.

Perhaps that is the real current I am following.

Not video. Not AI. Not even art in a particular form.

But the current of becoming.