Blossoming

 Five years ago, my wife Amy and I made a big life change—we moved to a village in southern Mexico on the outskirts of Oaxaca. We are both artists and made our studio in our home, called Dos Venados, or Two Deer. We wanted to integrate ourselves into our community in a meaningful way, especially with our immediate neighbors, and that’s when the idea of offering art lessons to local children was born.

Early group picture, 2022

Every Sunday, we gather with about eight neighborhood children for a couple of hours of creativity. We provide all the materials—paints, brushes, canvases, sculpture objects—and even refreshments. What started as a fun way to spend time with the kids has blossomed into something much more meaningful. We initially thought the interest might wane as the children grew older, but to our delight, they continue to come back each week, excited for the next project.

Ebeth, then and now.

Watching them grow, not just as budding artists but as individuals, has been a rewarding experience.

The joy of these Sunday gatherings has made this one of the most fulfilling parts of our life here. We see that our efforts are appreciated. Bonding has occurred. Sometimes a child arrives at our gate with fresh made warm tortillas as a gift. It’s a beautiful reminder that sometimes, the simplest gestures can build the strongest connections.

Luna, Aram and Pilar. About 1 year ago.

Quinceañera for Frida

 

Last weekend, my wife Amy and I had the honor of attending a quinceañera for Frida, the daughter and granddaughter of our friends and close neighbors here in San Pedro Ixtlahuaca. We were thrilled to be invited as the event photographers, capturing beautiful moments of this special day.

A quinceañera is a traditional Latin American celebration marking a girl's 15th birthday, symbolizing her transition from childhood to womanhood. The celebration was held in a grand event hall, in an adjacent municipality on the outskirts of Oaxaca. Upon arrival, we were touched to find that our friends had reserved a table of honor for us, seating us alongside them. This gesture made us feel incredibly welcome and deeply appreciated. 

The evening was a vibrant tapestry of music, dance, oratory, and heartfelt tributes to Frida. From the lively tunes played by the band to the choreographed dances by Frida and her court, every moment was filled with joy and celebration. One of the highlights was the "calenda," a traditional parade that entered the hall and added a unique and festive touch to the evening.

Especially, the dancing of Frida and her entourage of young friends was very touching. Such respect and camaraderie, gave a touching poignancy to the evening.  

As the night progressed,  we ate our fill and our hearts were brimming with the warmth and friendship of the community. We felt a profound sense of belonging, embraced by the kindness and generosity of our friends and neighbors. It was a night we will cherish forever, a testament to the strong bonds we’ve formed in our beloved village of San Pedro Ixtlahuaca.

Congratulations to Frida on her marvelous quinceañera . . . and to her wonderful family. 

Tapestry of Humanity

 

A week like no other . . . and to think⏤Amy’s sister arrived from Minnesota and experienced it with us. Cari arrived along with Dia de Muertos, an extraordinary week of color, tradition, and creativity. 

In the heart of Mexico amidst the vibrant streets of Oaxaca, Dia de Muertos, or Day of the Dead, is a time-honored tradition in Mexican culture, celebrating the lives of departed loved ones with colorful festivities and heartfelt remembrance.

The two sisters stayed in a nice hotel in the city for two nights as events ramped up. There is so much to entice the eye during the course of the holiday.  I always drive to town from our village every day to photograph.

We feel honored and bonded in our adopted community. Especially with the family of Mayolo Galindo, our neighbor who makes our tin frames. His wife Marta gave a cooking lesson in our home on making molé and traditional tamales. That evening we had a wonderful traditional tamale dinner to mark Cari´s birthday.

Every day and night are parades and celebrations. I threw myself in as much as possible to get photographs. A book of Dia de Muertos portraits will be forthcoming with one more year of picture taking.

This year we were honored that a premiere gallery rushed to take our work and highlight it as part of their offering for Dia De Muertos. They installed a grand ofrenda in the midst of our paintings. It was a surreal experience to see our art displayed alongside other talented artists, each piece telling a unique story of life, death, and the mystical in-between. We had hoped for such an outcome but had not expected. Then it suddenly occurred.

Memento Mori, by Steven Boone,  oil on linen, with tin frame by M. Galindo

The art gallery reception was warmly received. Many people stop to photograph our pieces and pose next to them.

Entre Culebras y Colibríes, by Amy Córdova Boone,  acrylic on canvas, with tin frame by M. Galindo

In the aftermath of Dia de Muertos, on November 4th as we drove home from the city, we stopped to walk in our village cemetery. I was moved that every grave in the large plot had flowers on it.

Because of a glitch in Cari´s flight home, she stayed an extra two days. We visited the largest tree on earth (in circumference) and drove 40 minutes to Tule to see the Tule tree. Another breathtaking experience in our panorama of experiences since she arrived. 

Cari discovered the true essence of Dia de Muertos – a celebration that transcends boundaries and connects us all in a beautiful tapestry of humanity. Today she arrived at the airport without delay and boarded for home, full of stories to tell.

More art by Steven and Amy Boone

The Burning Of Old Man Gloom

In Santa Fe every year at the beginning of Fiesta, people converge to an open field to watch the burning of Zozobra, also known as “Old Man Gloom”.

Zozobra is a hideous but harmless fifty-foot bogeyman marionette. He is a toothless, empty-headed facade. He has no guts and doesn't have a leg to stand on. He is full of sound and fury, signifying nothing. He never wins. He moans and groans, rolls his eyes and twists his head. His mouth gapes and chomps. His arms flail about in frustration. Every year we do him in. We string him up and burn him down in ablaze of fireworks. At last, he is gone, taking with him all our troubles for another whole year. Santa Fe celebrates another victory. Viva la Fiesta! - A.W. Denninger

It is a tradition that is both a family event and a raucous frenzy. To gain entry into the field, people must pay a small admission that goes to charity, and have their bags checked for contraband, like guns or alcohol. Zozobra can be seen standing on a hill above the field. He is dressed the same every year, stands fifty feet high and stuffed with paper. His eyes are big and green, he has fat lips, his head swivels and his arms move, and he looks dapper and grotesque.

I had not been to a Zozobra burning in years. As night fell, live music rolled out over the crowd and when the field lights turned off, the big puppet began slowly moving—as if drowsily awaking from a long time of dreaming. Cries of “burn him!” arose, and an official announcer arrived to say Zozobra, Old Man Gloom, is sentenced to death so that Santa Fe can officially begin the Fiesta festival, and therefore, the time of his burning is to commence immediately. The crowd erupts as a fire dancer dressed in a flowing red gown appears at the base of the effigy and begins her hypnotic dance. Rhythmic music plays and more dancers appear, some twirling flaming rods. Fireworks go off and Zozobra begins flailing his arms, rolling his eyes, wagging his head and groaning. Some people in the crowd scream as if they are in primal scream therapy . . . especially piercing are the screams of teen-aged girls. The groaning of Zozobra is actually a carefully orchestrated and traditional performance by a “groaner” who, like the Wizard Of Oz, is backstage, behind a curtain, but his voice is amplified through rock concert speakers so that the ground shakes. More fireworks go off, perilously close to Zozobra who moans with each conflagration. The fire dancer prances at his feet and the crowd anticipation and frenzy grows. Parents lift their children to their shoulders so that they can see. All of a sudden it seems Old Man Gloom is lighting up from inside. His big, green eyes roll, his arms flail and his head bursts into flames. He wails loudly as the crowd cheers, and then the rest of his body catches fire. Fireworks blaze all around him and then suddenly, he disappears in smoke and flame. The last of the fireworks go off and Zozobra has been reduced to a smoldering bonfire where once a fifty foot tall structure stood. It is fantastic, and the crowd disperses into the night.

Zozobra has burned 86 times now . . . but he will be back next year.

The burning marks the end of gloom and the beginning of Santa Fe Fiesta, the oldest continual community celebration in America. During the next three days are festivities and parades, dance and music, plenty of food and drink, and an art fair.

To see more pictures, click here: Zozobra Burning