Living Between Two Worlds

As we moved between two countries, we carried with us a beautiful blend of cultures, traditions, and experiences. We know that home is not confined to a single place; rather, it is a tapestry woven from the threads of the people we love and the memories we hold dear. Our hearts now span across borders, and we find ourselves at ease in both Mexico's vibrant embrace and Santa Fe's familiar allure.

In this journey between places, we've come to realize that we are incredibly fortunate to have the best of both worlds. Mexico, with its soulful and sincere friendships, teaches us the value of human connections and endless possibilities for adventure. On the other hand, Santa Fe and Taos, with their cosmopolitan charm, upscale culture, the beloved landscape with its great vistas and soaring mountains, and many dear relationships, reminds us of our deep roots there and growth that came with years of living.

Home is more than just a physical place; it's a feeling of belonging, love, and nostalgia. For Amy and me, “Old” Mexico and “New” Mexico are home. For four decades we made a beautiful life in Santa Fe, New Mexico, a famous city in the USA on the forefront of creativity and cultural diversity. For some of that time, Amy lived in Taos, the place of her ancestors and rich intersection between Spanish, Native American and Anglo cultures. 

Recently for one month, we embarked on a sojourn from Mexico where we presently live, back to our former home, and the experience was nothing short of marvelous.  Amy also visited her family in Minneapolis-St. Paul. She stayed with her sister and oldest son and spent time with her two sons and four grandchildren. We are fortunate to experience the best of both worlds. 

My daughter Sarah and I

We bought our home near Oaxaca about 3 1/2 years ago. It is the reason we arrived in Mexico. The house is soulful, and called us to purchase it. We soon realized the challenges that come with moving into a foreign culture; especially since we live in a pueblo that is poor by American standards. I could write a book about the experience thus far. 

Living in a country with a language distinct from our mother tongue has presented tests, but also teaches the value of communication beyond words. The warmth of a smile, the laughter shared over a meal, and the genuine care and concern for one another transcend linguistic barriers. In Mexico, we find a place where simplicity and genuine connections hold more significance than material wealth.

Stream in the Rio Grande Gorge, New Mexico

Returning to Santa Fe felt like revisiting the past and reconnecting with old friends. The familiarity of the English language was a comfort, and being surrounded by familiar faces was a heartwarming experience. Our sojourn allowed us to reminisce about the years gone by and cherish our lasting friendships that transcend time and distance. We met with so much kindness and generosity. Further, we brought back to Mexico donated gifts of art materials to share with our neighbor children in our pueblo. 

Amy with neighbor kids

Our story is one of love, appreciation, and the beauty of living between two worlds. While Mexico, our humble and beloved home, provides us with soulful and sincere connections, Santa Fe, our former abode in the wealthy USA, offers us the warmth of familiar faces and a history filled with fond memories. As we continue our journey through life, we carry with us the best of both worlds, forever grateful for the unique and cherished places that have shaped us into who we are today.

Nothing Short of Magical

As we bid farewell to Santa Fe, and prepare to return to our beloved Oaxaca, Mexico, our hearts are filled with gladness. We carry with us not only cherished memories and experiences but also the kindness and love of the friends who have embraced us throughout our journey. They have touched our lives in profound ways, leaving an indelible mark on our hearts, reminding us of the power of human connection and the beauty of genuine relationships.

Not once in our month sojourn did we have to stay in a hotel or rent accommodations. Friends provided everything we needed and ensured our comfort.

Amy's mural

I have many life experiences associated with Santa Fe, having lived in “The City Different’ for over four decades. Amy too, but especially the nearby city of Taos where her family ancestry goes back four centuries. This return felt invigorating, especially stepping back into a very clean world with all the amenities and opportunities that do not exist where we live now. 

We went to Taos overnight. It is where Amy spent many years and is the land of her ancestors. While there we visited her enormous mural on the side of a wall at the University of New Mexico. Amy then went north—to Minneapolis-St.Paul for two weeks to visit with family and do some work. After she left, I had the opportunity to see my beloved daughter Sarah who lives an hour away, in Albuquerque, New Mexico. We went to the zoo there. The day was so hot that most of the animals were hiding or resting lethargically in the shade, but we enjoyed ourselves and rejoiced in our togetherness. 

I had an opportunity to experience the annual Santa Fe Folk Art Festival that draws artists and craftspeople from all over the globe for one weekend. It is a celebration of cultural diversity. 

Santa Fe has a vibrant summer music scene and many nights are alive with free concerts for the community. We discovered the joy of dancing to music alongside fellow residents, joining in the celebrations at free venues located in the charming rail yard and lively plaza. These moments of shared revelry were a testament to the unity and camaraderie that define this city. Traveling bands come from all around to play. While Amy was gone, I went alone to hear the music and often ran into people from my past that I had forgotten.

Sarah at Albuquerque Zoo

I had time for walks in the National forest in the mountains above Santa Fe, and to drive into the Rio Grande Gorge and follow the river for awhile. The days have been exceedingly hot, so it was cool respite to find a stream where I could sit in a pool by boulders under cascading water.

Generous souls have donated art supplies for us to take back to the children we serve in our pueblo. We have two suitcases full of materials and projects.

During our time in Santa Fe, we embarked on various endeavors that required our attention. Among them was the task of selling items we had been storing, which provided an opportunity to declutter and move forward with renewed purpose. 

The time in Santa Fe, New Mexico, has been nothing short of magical. The kindness and love of friends, breathtaking landscapes, the vibrant community, and the invaluable moments of reconnection have shaped this chapter of my life into an unforgettable tale.  In parting, we acknowledge the true spirit of reciprocity and gratitude, for our dear friends have bestowed upon us gifts to share with our neighbors in our humble pueblo in Oaxaca. As we journey back to our Mexican abode, we carry these offerings as a symbol of the interconnectedness we have fostered during our time in Santa Fe. It is through the act of giving and sharing that we can create a ripple effect of kindness, extending the love we have received to those around us.

With my friend Paul White on left

As I bid adieu to this remarkable city, I am reminded that it is the people and the relationships we cultivate that truly make a place feel like home. Santa Fe will forever hold a special place in my heart, and I carry with me the lessons learned and the love shared as I embark on the next chapter of my fairytale life.

Memories We Create

Amy and I left behind our beautiful home in Oaxaca, Mexico, and returned to the embrace of Santa Fe, New Mexico, where we had spent four decades of our lives. As we embarked on this transition, we found ourselves immersed in a whirlwind of gratitude, hospitality, and the remarkable kindness of friends old and new. Neighbors Marta, Mayolo and our comrade and house sitter Azul all sent us off two weeks ago with loving warmth . . . and Santa Fe friends picked us up at the airport to take us to the grand home of a couple who collect our art and offered their place and car for us while they are in their other home in Milwaukee.

With daughter Sarah who came
 from Albuquerque to visit.

Remarkably, in our travels thus far has been the absence of traditional arrangements like renting a car or booking lodging. Instead, we have been blessed with the good fortune of finding exceptional places to stay through the open arms and graciousness of dear friends.
As we prepared for this journey, our hearts were warmed by the knowledge that our Oaxaca house and beloved pet dog would be cared for in our absence. The generosity to take on such responsibility is a testament to the profound sense of hospitality that permeates the human spirit.

Everywhere we have been met with love and caring. We took a trip to Taos and stayed with friends . . . and in the past week we have stayed in the house I built with my ex-wife Jean, about thirty years ago. We are house sitting for nine days and caring for her two cats while she attends a creative dance gathering in Tucson. 

There is an enchantment that comes with staying in a space that carries the imprints of love, friendship, and shared experiences. Especially living once again in the house I built and raised my daughters in has caused many emotions to well up—an amalgamation of memories, laughter, and deep connection shared. I take note and understand it is all part of the context of my life.

Further, we have received donations of art supplies to take back to Oaxaca and give to our poor neighbor pueblo children who come to our home once a week for art classes.

These homes have become havens of respite, offering not only a place to rest our weary bodies but also a canvas upon which new memories are painted. Within their walls, we have found solace, comfort, and the sense of belonging that only true friendships can provide.

When we traverse the landscapes of Mexico, we are continually humbled by the acts of kindness and warmth shown to us by strangers-turned-friends. Whether it's an offer to help us with something important we do not understand, a heartfelt conversation over a home-cooked meal, or the simple act of a warm embrace, hospitality has touched our hearts and reaffirmed our faith in the inherent goodness of humanity.

Same in the USA. We have felt great love and hospitality.

Amy and her mural in Taos

Amy leaves for Minneapolis tomorrow to see her sons and relatives for two weeks.
Jean returns and I will move on . . . to another home. A friend has offered me a bedroom. Then Amy will return here and we will go home to Oaxaca together.

Our hearts are filled with profound appreciation for the hospitality we have received, and we recognize the transformative power of genuine connections. As we continue to embrace the unknown and navigate the winding roads that lie ahead, we carry the spirit of hospitality in our hearts, knowing that wherever we find ourselves, there will always be a place to call home.

In the end, it is the people we meet, the friendships we forge, and the memories we create that truly define our journey.

Connection to Nature

Working with the earth has always been a love of mine. It is my connection to nature that is strong. When I graduated art college and could not immediately find prosperity as an artist, I began a landscaping company which thrived. Eventually, after 11 years, I was able to sell the business and find my way as a full time painter. Landscape painting has been my greatest success.

Life has a beautiful way of evolving, presenting us with new avenues for creativity and fulfillment as we venture through its various stages.
I reached my seventies, and my wife Amy and I acquired a home near Oaxaca, Mexico. It is a grand adobe hacienda on a big hillside property with varieties of trees, shrubs, cactus, and plenty of potential for improvement. My attention is drawn towards the raw beauty of nature and the intrinsic allure of architecture. Here, at our house in the pueblo of San Pedro Ixtlahuaca, near Oaxaca, Mexico the stage is set for working with the earth, plants, and structures.
I typically begin the day working outdoors. Plants always need care. We made a patio, remade a cistern, repaired a porch roof that had earthquake damage with tiles needing replacing. Now I am constructing stone stairs in front of our home.

While the physical labor required to shape stone stairs may be demanding, I find solace and gratification in the process. Far from viewing it as toil, I perceive it as a dance with the earth; a collaborative effort between my hands and the materials at disposal. Sweat and aching muscles serve as tangible reminders of dedication and passion. I am surprised how much, after work each day, I ache from mixing concrete, pushing a wheelbarrow loaded with stones, laboring under a hot Mexican sun . . . Anyway, it is something I did many years ago and have not forgotten my landscaping skills.

In the golden years of life, our passions can take on new dimensions, weaving together diverse threads from our past and present. My love for painting, writing, and photography has found a companion in devotion to working with the earth, plants, and architecture. Amidst the picturesque landscapes of Oaxaca, I have immersed myself in the creation of stone stairs, where each step signifies not only toil but also his unyielding passion and love for our surroundings.

Last night a great storm came. First thunder and lightning, then rain, tremendous wind and hail the size of golfballs. It lasted almost an hour. A big potted plant came crashing down on the roof patio. Water came in the house in several areas⏤mostly from the storm hitting windows and seeping inside. The wind bent over trees and shrubs, ripping off limbs. The hail tore through leaves. It was violent nature.

Hail 

Today I went out and swept the stairs I have been creating. Stone is forever.

Fill The Cup

At our home in San Pedro Ixtlahuaca, Mexico, good energy perceptibly rises during our Sunday art sessions. Our neighbors come at 3 PM, and when the group disperses to go home after a couple hours, it feel as if happiness has risen to fill the cup to overflowing. 

We have been offering free art workshops at our home in Mexico for 2 years now. The group is usually 7 children and one adult. The number goes up and down around that core.

Amy and I must prepare ahead so that when class begins everything is ready. That includes the project with materials, with refreshments to serve. It is our service to our immediate community⏤neighbors. 

Yesterday three girls showed up unexpectedly and asked if they could bake cookies with Amy. She agreed and they made peanut butter cookies. A real treat . . . considering the kids do not have an oven at home. 

The pictures here are from recent sessions.

Much Love

We both grew up in safe, clean, flourishing neighborhoods in major American cities. Amy in LaCrosse, Wisconsin and me in Northwest Washington DC. People had pride in their homes and surroundings. Elementary, secondary and high schools were all clean, well staffed and optimum environments for learning. Trash was regularly picked up, crime was low, police vigilant at all hours. Hospitals with ambulances ready 24/7 were close. Trees lined the boulevards, playgrounds were staffed except in winter. At night street lights were on. I had a paper delivery route, mowed lawns and shoveled snow; always feeling safe.  My father held important positions as a crusader for social justice, my mother kept the home with five children.

Perhaps our lives in the USA could be called “white privilege.” I knew of parts of Washington DC⏤ghettos, that were very unsafe. Same with Baltimore where I went to art college and lived downtown with prostitutes on corners and muggings at night. Amy too was safe, although she had a Spanish surname and ran into prejudice from within her white enclave. 

As an adult, Amy lived in Minneapolis where she was one of the more famous artists before moving to Taos, New Mexico and starting a gallery. I settled in Santa Fe, New Mexico and eventually established myself as a successful artist. Even during times I was poor, I felt hope and possibility. We both always were creative enough to find jobs until garnering artistic success.

In 2019, Amy and I, married less than two years, moved to Oaxaca, Mexico.  American society and tensions between human demographics were coming to a fever pitch, culminating in the attack on the US Capitol, and exasperated by the Covid pandemic. We had visited Oaxaca for Dia de Muertos, went back home and, almost as a lark, found a house for sale online on a real estate site. It was everything we wanted, designed by a Mexican architect, made of adobe with artistic flourish, plenty of space with gorgeous views . . . the architect´s German wife was an agronomist who lovingly planted the grounds. It is situated in a pueblo bordering Oaxaca. The cost was far less than listings in the Santa Fe. 

We traveled to look at it. The architect had died and the owner moved back to Germany. We made a low offer, stipulating to include the furniture. Immediately we received an affirmative response. 

We have been living in Mexico three years and have permanent resident status. We brought about half our belongings, sold most of the rest and have a storage unit in Santa Fe filled mostly with art. We go back each year for about a month.

There is much to like in Mexico and much not to like. People are generally good, and have strong family bonds. This prevents lost souls from falling between the cracks as so often happens in the USA. Our city of Oaxaca is a cultural Mecca full of art, fine cuisine, traditions and frequent celebrations. It has more than once been listed in travel magazines as the #1 tourist destination in the world. Yet, outside of the city, life begins to resemble third world conditions. Roads are of poor quality, homes are basic without adornment, thievery is a problem, animals often have it bad, poverty is obvious. Most people have only basic eduction.

Amy and I live in a pueblo that is both vibrant and also typical of Mexico lower class. Our home is sublime, especially compared to those around us. The structure is adobe, with plenty of light and more space than we need, tile roofs and property with mature trees and a variety of plants. Also, our gray water goes to a water plant filtrations system. Some flowers bloom year long. Two seasons; wet and dry.

We have a young dog; Mexican breed, named MaliNalli Copali.

As have our neighbors, we have been robbed several times. Outdoor stuff but it is a nuisance. So I put up security cameras front and back. During the last incident we got pictures of the culprit.

We have good friends. An artist down the road builds our frames and he and his family are stalwart friends. Our closest neighbor too is a big help. Then the children who come to our house on Sundays for art lessons and refreshments. Much love.

Venetia

To be honest, the skeleton motif took me by surprise here in Mexico and then I stayed with it⏤creating about a dozen paintings so far. Certainly there are those who have followed and collected my artwork over the decades who are bewildered and perplexed by my departure from landscape painting. All I can say is this is Oaxaca, Mexico and I have been influenced and like it. People ask when I will go back to landscapes. I don’t know.

My latest is called Venice Vanitas. It shows that even in one of the most desirable places, Venice, Italy, amidst youth, luxury, pomp, élan, gaiety and romance, death is a commanding presence. 

Everyone is always aware of death on an unconscious level. It is omnipresent. We are born with our days numbered. A germ can take over the body and cause it to fail. Sudden accidents occur. People can even die of melancholy. In the 18th century, death certificates signed by the British clergy listed as many as 41 different causes of death, including 'suffocated by wet nurse or mother'. 

Not that we dwell on all this and live fearfully. That is perhaps why I am bringing death to the fore. As if to say, “I see you, and I am okay with you being always around.”

In the painting Venice Vanitas, a lovely young woman is enjoying a gondola ride on the grand canal. She holds red flowers, symbolizing life. A mask is nearby, symbolizing deception⏤life can be deceiving. The water is flowing life force; bringing us from birth to death and always onward. The bridge is passage from one world to the next. The skeleton gondoleer is death, determining when life will eventually end.

A story:

Once upon a time in Venice, there was a young woman named Venetia. She was known throughout the city for her beauty and her love of life. One sunny day, she decided to take a gondola ride on the grand canal, the main artery of Venice.

As she drifted along the canal, Venetia held in her hand a bouquet of red flowers, symbolizing the beauty and vitality of life. But nearby, a mask lay on the seat, a reminder that life can be deceiving, that appearances can be false.

The water flowed around her, a reminder of the life force that carries us all from birth through death. A bridge she passed often spanned the canal, a symbol of the progress from one world to the next, from the living to the dead.

Guiding the gondola stood the Grim Reaper, a reminder that death is always with us, determining when our time on earth will come to an end.

Despite the reminder of death, Venetia was not afraid. She knew that life was meant to be lived to the fullest, and she was determined to enjoy every moment of it. She smiled at the skeleton behind her, knowing that one day they would meet again, but for now, she was content to enjoy the beauty of Venice and the joy of being alive.

As the gondola glided along the canal, Venetia breathed in the salty sea air and felt the warmth of the sun on her face. She knew that life was fleeting, but she also knew that it was beautiful, and that she would always cherish the memories of this moment. And so she continued to smile, holding her bouquet of red flowers, enjoying the ride, and living her life to the fullest.

Touch of Light

 It is one thing to photograph people. It is another to make others care about them by revealing the core of their humanness. - Paul Strand

When I go to events in Oaxaca, Mexico, I go camera in hand, ready for surprise and hoping to get some pictures that are more than superficial. Over the years during many travels at home and abroad, the camera has become an extension of myself, a kind of third eye. What interests me most is humanity. After that, it is landscapes. 

The last two weeks in Oaxaca have been special for Oaxacans. This week has been Semana Santa, Holy Week, culminating in  Easter Sunday. Catholicism is by far the most practiced religion in Mexico. The celebrations bring people together in great reverence, worship and unity. 

Enjoy these images I took during the last two weekends.

To photo people, I have to be brave enough to enter their space. Yet, my heart goes before me and I go in peace. If I am in the “zone,” I am nothing . . . a gentle breeze or touch of light—for I am one with the person I see.

Good Samaritans

 

A colorful hand sewn blouse or dress, worn by a welcoming woman or young lady, offering traditional waters of chilacayota, horchata, jamaica and other flavors is a treat for the eyes and also the taste buds. "In Oaxaca, aguas frescas – essentially a mix of fresh fruit pulp, plain water, and some sugar if needed – are synonymous with freshness and excitement, given the selection of different flavors made from the myriad of fruits that grow locally." (See more) And because the offering is of good will and made as a gift to friend and strangers alike, it is salve to the soul. Día de la Samaritana, or Day of the Samaritan occurred last Friday. It is a celebrated time for offering life giving waters.

It seems there is always some kind of festival or event happening in Oaxaca. The most famous are Dia de Muertos, or Day of the Dead, and also Guelaguetza, the gathering of indigenous peoples of Oaxaca state. The city is a very popular International destination for weddings which pour onto the streets. 

I had never experienced Día de la Samaritana until some friends invited Amy and I to stroll with them through downtown to experience the gatherings and hospitality. Folks bring cups from home to accept drinks, so as to diminish waste.

The story of the woman good Samaritan is told in the Bible, John 4:7-31. Jesus is alone at a well. His followers have all gone off somewhere. A woman with a jug comes to the well. Seeing that Jesus is a Jew, and being of the Samaritan tribe, she is not supposed to have much to do with him and tells him when he asks for water. A conversation ensues; “You don’t know what God can give you. And you don’t know who I am, the one who asked you for a drink. If you knew, you would have asked me, and I would have given you living water.” The woman said, “Sir, where will you get that living water? The well is very deep, and you have nothing to get water with. Are you greater than our ancestor Jacob? He is the one who gave us this well. He drank from it himself, and his sons and all his animals drank from it too.” Jesus answered, “Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again. But anyone who drinks the water I give will never be thirsty again. The water I give people will be like a spring flowing inside them. It will bring them eternal life.”

Eventually, after Jesus reveals facts about the woman that He could not possibly known, she leaves him her jug and runs to tell people that she thinks she has met the messiah. 

Nowhere else but in Oaxaca is this biblical event officially celebrated.