Mexico City

A trip to Mexico City is a phantasmagoria of sights and sounds⏤always with surprises. Amy and I love visiting and hope someday to live there for at least a few weeks. The worlds fifth largest city, Ciudad de Mexico is bigger by population than any city in the USA. It is six hours away by car from our home in Oaxaca, or about 1 hour by airplane.

Along with two friends from Chicago, we went by air from Oaxaca City to Mexico City on February 22 and stayed until the 25th when our friends returned to Chicago and we flew home. As usual, our visit was fun, educational and dreamlike.

We like to stay at Le Meridien, a 17 floor, excellent hotel in the Reforma area, centrally located downtown. From there we take taxis to destinations, or simply walk.

This visit we went to The National Anthropological Museum, Museum of Modern Art, Antique Toy Museum and Diego Rivera Mural Museum. Amy and I had been to all the places but the Toy Museum, which Amy found online and because of her passion for such things was determined to visit. What a treasure it is! As we were leaving we met the founder and collector of toys, Roberto Shimizu, Sr and sat with him talking. Then we met his son, Roberto Shimizu Jr who is curator.

Here is a slideshow video of highlights:

Monte Albán

Visible to the east from our rooftop patio, standing on a mountaintop is Monte Albán, one of the most important archeological sites in all of Mesoamerica. Several times since we moved to Oaxaca ten months ago we have attempted to go and visit, but found a line of vehicles waiting for entry. We turned around and left, choosing to try again later.

Recently Amy and I received our first guests to our home. Harold and Becky live in Chicago and I have known Harold for over forty years. With Monte Albán close by, we took a chance to go again, hoping for easy entry. Success at 11 AM on Friday! 

I felt a happy sense the moment I arrived in the parking lot and climbed a few steps of the ancient place.

Under blue skies we strolled in the midday heat, experiencing what was a metropolis and capital of the Zapotec people for 13 centuries, between 500 BC and 800 AD. Monte Albán is a world heritage monument and located on a low mountain range overlooking the city of Oaxaca⏤with its surrounding plains and villages. 

Exploring the site, I felt exhilarated with inspiration, sensing history and countless footsteps of those who had trod the ground under my feet. 

Monte Albán reminded me of another place of exceptional importance I have been to: The Acropolis on Mount Olympus at Athens, Greece. Its most famous structures, such as the Parthenon and Old Temple of Athena were constructed around the same time as Monte Albán. I thought of how remarkable that these very grand construction sites were also lofty places overlooking their surroundings. That meant they were very difficult choices for building sites. And such marvelous monuments were made! 
When something grand is made with human determination under extreme difficulty, in order to honor earth and heaven, it is holy.

Now that Amy and I know we can drive up the mountain sides and get to Monte Albán without too much hindrance, we are eager to go back often for inspiration.

Angels and Ants

 I thought about ants. They work so hard and industriously, making kingdoms on earth. In New Mexico, USA they seemed innocent enough, even noble, crawling busily over the high desert floor. At the time, I had traveled much and made art for over thirty years. Deep down I felt like stopping everything to simply become an observer. Watch ants work every day. Meditate.

Almost two decades ago, after my oldest daughter died, a poem came to me and included ants as a metaphor for elemental spirits of the world:

Angels and Ants

My pen tries to speak,

but the language it has learned 

is too sublime

for mere scratchings.

You taught me a new tongue—

the expressions of angels.

Alas, an ocean is between us 

which cannot be passed.

Wandering alone in a daze

I am left with the ants 

traveling over the dust of this world.

Amy and I have been living in Oaxaca, Mexico now for almost a year. For the first time in my life my home is in a place without winter. We grow flowers year around. The nearby plant nursery always welcomes us with myriad colors, exotic trees and shrubs and prices a fraction of what we would pay in the USA. Blooming rose shrubs cost 1.50 USD. Our eyes are dazzled and we make sure to smell them, to be certain of fragrance. 

Destroyed jasmine plants

I planted seven roses, caring for them, watching them slowly take hold and grow new leaves. Suddenly they were almost wiped out. By ants. Not just the roses, but many other of our trees, vegetables, and shrubs were being decimated. The jasmine plants in pots by our back door were denuded. By day I could not see much activity, but at night, by flashlight I saw legions of ants in long lines carrying cut leaves to their holes in the ground. 

The old lady, matriarch of the family who owns the nursery, when asked what could be done about ants, looked us steady in the eye and said, “kill them”.

I dug up my roses and put them in pots, then took them to my roof patio where they have revived and are producing marvelous blooms. Meanwhile, sadly I have had to declare war on the ants.

I have had to ask, plants or ants? 

Inside Your Darkest Everything

It started a couple of years ago when I made an oil painting of a young Frida Kahlo,_(Mexican,-6 July 1907 – 13 July 1954)with a skeleton whispering in her ear and wrapping his arm around her shoulder. I copied her own self-portrait⏤her first of many, then added a skeleton and a quote of hers: “I want to be inside your darkest everything.” I have tried my hand at painting skeletons and find that I like it. 

Amy and I have lived in our home in Oaxaca, Mexico going on one year. There are many festivities during the year, but undoubtedly the biggest, most famous, is Dia de Muertos, or Day of the Dead, that occurs at the beginning of February. Significantly it is time for prayer and remembrance of friends and family members who have died. Its universally observed in Mexico, but also regions with large Mexican populations. In Oaxaca, skeletons and skulls are widely depicted as emblems of death and afterlife, and can be seen year around on walls.

This past year, as Dia de Muertos approached, I had an idea for a painting with skulls. With a bit of trepidation I began work on it. After overcoming some negative emotions, I continued until it was finished. Standing back, I liked it very much and determined not to sell it. It is called "Memento Mori", meaning an object serving as a warning or reminder of death, such as a skull.

My neighbor Mayolo stepped into the picture when he made a fantastic tin frame for me, complete with skulls, crossbones and roses. 

Recently Mayolo made another masterpiece frame for my next muerto painting. It has sculptures and engravings⏤ with incredible filigree work in tin. At the top are two miniature violins with exquisite detail.

It seems I am in a process of making a series of muerto paintings.

The one to the left is my latest and almost finished. Many ideas come to me. 

Twenty one years ago my daughter died of cancer. It has taken me this long to make a painting that includes death as protagonist.

Bloom Where You Are Planted

Amy and I moved to our house in the village of San Pedro Ixtlahuaca 331 days ago. It is on the outskirts of Oaxaca, the famous city in southern Mexico. We love our home and agree it is the best we have ever lived in. Built by a Mexican architect and his German agronomist wife, money was not an object and great love was poured into it from the beginning. It has survived two earthquakes with barely a crack or dislodged clay roof tile. 

We are Americans in Mexico with permanent resident status. Amy read somewhere that the first year living in Mexico is the most difficult. Certainly it was shocking at first, and even now, there are some aspects we don’t like. The change has been more difficult for Amy. I don’t exactly know why, but I have adjusted from the start⏤even though Amy is much better at speaking Spanish. It is probably because I have reinvented myself so many times in life. I have been around the world twice, lived in many poor countries, been a homeless wanderer, and lost my oldest daughter to cancer at age nineteen in 1999.  I learned this life is THE DREAM, and we do not control it. It is phenomenal, surprising, sparkling, terrible, dark, light filled, wonderful and dramatic. It is best not to resist, but rather be in it totally and observe intently.

It is evident Mexico is poorer than the USA. We live amidst poverty here. A preponderance of streets are broken and dirty, maimed dogs wander around aimlessly, most people do not have cars and rely on little “moto taxis”. Homes are nothing more than concrete block walls or tin shacks. We live in grandiosity compared to our neighbors. 

Yet good values can be seen in the way love exists in families. Often people can be seen walking hand in hand. There is plenty of laughter, music, and occasions for celebration. Mexicans love festivities and participate whole heartedly.

The cost of food is about 1/4th what the USA charges. It is good and fresh year round. Oaxaca has fabulous restaurants. Archeological sites abound and indigenous cultures have deep historical roots going back millenniums. The climate here stays comfortable year around. There are two seasons; dry and wet. Our home is made of adobe and has neither heating or cooling systems. It stays comfortable all the time.

During my hippie days in the 60´s I read a slogan painted on a wall, something from the flower child revolution: “Bloom where you are planted.”

Posses a pure, kindly and radiant heart

“O Son of Spirit!
My first counsel is this: Possess a pure, kindly and radiant heart, that thine may be a sovereignty ancient, imperishable and everlasting.”  ― Baháʼuʼlláh

Amy and I are more or less “strangers in a strange land,” here in Mexico. Spanish is not our mother tongue and we have never before had permanent residence outside the USA. We made a leap of faith when we bought our home in San Pedro Ixtlahuaca, Mexico. It is a humble village with a standard of living well below what is typical in America. We have challenges and opportunities. It will take time to become part of the fabric of life here. But we are already weaving ourselves in.

It helps tremendously to have friends who look out for us. Thank God for them. They are like gifts of spirit. Mayolo is one of them.

Mayolo is our neighbor. We were introduced by Salomon, who is building a house next to us. We wanted someone who could do iron work and make a railing for stairs to our second floor. We got Mayolo. We quickly discovered he is a master craftsman. He doesn’t speak English but we have bonded to become good friends. Mayolo has helped us in many ways, from paying bills to making screens and installing them. But most of all Amy and I have bonded with him through shared love of art, and the making of it. The railing he made is beyond our dreams, and now he makes excellent frames for our art.

Just last night Mayolo called and asked to come over and show us something. He arrived with a marvelous tin box he made as a wedding present. It is meticulously engraved and embellished with handwork. It has two little oil paintings on either side. It opens to reveal a velvet interior and engraved monogram to the newlyweds. Along with it is an embellished tin bible cover with two doves on the front. 

Then he handed us a lantern he made. “This is my gift to you both”. 

We put a candle inside and lit it. An emblem of a pure, kind and radiant heart.

Xolo

Xolo, (pronounced in English sho-low) is a dog breed developed by Mexico’s early indigenous peoples more than 3,000 years ago. It is famous as a hairless type dog historically revered by Aztec people and others. Once popular, it almost went extinct after the Spanish invasion. Apparently they did not like it and it lost favor. But indigenous people insured its survival and today it is having a burst of popularity as a symbol of authentic Mexican culture. Frida Kahlo and Diego Rivera owned several, as well as, famous Mexican artist, Francisco Toledo. Xolos are depicted in sculptures and paintings.

For most of my life dogs have been companions. But for the last twenty years I have been without. Owning a dog and traveling do not mix. At one point I was gone a year. Other times for months. 

Now, Amy and I live in Mexico. Amy wants a dog. A neighbors pet shows up every day at our backdoor, but he always goes away. Amy has come to adore Xolos  for their unique appearance and demeanor. Also for their spiritual symbolism, (in ancient times, Xolos were often sacrificed and then buried with their owners to act as guides to the soul on its journey to the afterlife. They have been found in burial sites of both the Maya and the Toltec). 

I have to agree that they are different.
I have never been fond of hairless dogs, but could grow to like and love one I suppose.

We found a four year old Xolo here in Oaxaca called Pepe who is available. He has been well cared for by a man who is a dog lover and trainer. Jorge has a pack of animals he dotes on. 

We have had an initial meet and greet. Amy has been researching possible names from the ancient Mexican language called Nahuatl. We like two especially: Tochitli (rabbit) and Potchli (smoke). 

Looks like the next step is to bring Pepe home with us for a couple weeks and see how we like each other.

Break Rules

Advice to artists: create a style and stick with it, become famous and own a highly marketable brand. The same for any business.

Usually an artist chooses to concentrate on one discipline; like classical piano, poetry, fiction writing, or specific type of painting. He masters a style and gives it his own personality, perhaps becoming famous as a brand. If that brand goes big he is world famous. For instance Van Gogh. He made paintings in his own style, not popular at the time, but highly identifiable. Exactly 100 years after he died, Vincent’s  painting, Portrait of Dr. Gachet sold at auction for 163 million dollars.

My own trajectory as an artist is varied. I have a huge interest in the world and find that if I am in a niche I get uncomfortable. So I break rules and surprise people with explorations into the unknown. Then I also surprise myself.

My greatest success as an artist has been as a landscape painter. I am grateful for being able to make a living with my painting (see Steven Boone website). I often pinched myself to be sure I was not dreaming. “And I have not had to be a waiter on the side,” I told folks.

Along the way I have written a memoir, poetry, and magazine articles. I have been a publisher, made photographs, learned graphic design, been a printmaker and owned art galleries. 

I go in different directions simultaneously.

Recently I looked through old files of photographs and came upon some made between 15 and 20 years ago I share today. 

Vecinos

 “Vecino” is Spanish, meaning neighbor in English. I have lived in many places over the years and neighbors always influenced my life. Some are loud and brash, others secretive and hidden. There are those who are warm and engaging and others who want to be left alone. What matters most is if a neighbor can be trusted. Will they help in an emergency? Look out for your well being? Honor your property and basic rights? 

When Amy and I moved to Mexico, we knew no one except the realtor who sold us our home. Our house is set back off a dirt road in our village. We have scattered homes above us and below us. 

Our home is distinctly better than any others nearby. So undoubtedly people wonder who we are, but stay at a distance. We are friendly, offering car rides to those without a vehicle who depend on local tuk-tuk´s, and give work to people and almost always pay more than they ask.

The process of assimilation will take a long time here.

From our start in the village of San Pedro Ixtlahuaca, there have been “gifts.” We have met people who adopted us immediately. Foremost has been Salomon. He is short, coffee-brown colored and sturdy like most Zapotec people of Mexico. The former owner of our property liked him so much she gave away part of her land to him where he is building his home near ours. His family lives hours away at an agricultural cooperative, but he will eventually move them here. Salomon previously lived as caretaker in our house and has always been willing to help us when we did not understand an issue. He does not speak English but Amy and him get along  in simple conversation.

Lately Amy and I have been helping him with artwork for a powerpoint presentation he is scheduled to give soon. I redesigned a logo for his coffee farm cooperative. Amy made images for the opening page of his presentation.

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. 

Our Ofrenda

“ The most acceptable offering to God Himself comes from a grateful and joyful heart. " - William Shakespeare 

 As the saying goes, when a loved ones passes away they are, “Gone from our sight, but never from our hearts.” Here in Mexico, where Dia de Muertos, or Day of the Dead, is a national holiday, it is occasion to remember our departed loved ones in a spectacular way. 

Yesterday, when Amy and I were driving into town we passed fields of flowers bustling with activity. People were cutting and loading armfuls of marigolds and cockscomb into pickup trucks, cars, onto donkeys or simply carrying loads on their back. A palpable sense of excitement is in the air. The smells and colors are stimulating both to the senses and soul.

Everyone it seems, builds an “ofrenda” or shrine to the departed in their home. Also entries to homes and businesses are decorated with flowers. 

Amy and I have built our own ofrenda near our front door in our entry hall. I must say it feels good. When I am near the ofrenda I feel warmth. 

The ofrenda is a portal, bridging worlds. That is its purpose, to reach into another place and open doors of perception. Commemorating spirits gone into the next world, we build our altars of flowers along with meaningful objects and reminders⏤everything to honor souls and life.