foto.art.life

Diary of an Italophile: Italy January 2012

2012-02-07T09:06:00.000-08:00

Within the first three days back from Italy, I attended class, spent time with my daughter, with friends, and had gone back to work. It was so incredibly busy, I felt literally FLUNG into my life--which was good for my post-traveling blues.

Today, twelve days back in the States, I want to say that I don't feel back in the swing of things and in my head, I still feel a foreigner here. Everyday is a battle with myself, I fluctuate between being heartbroken and to being happy to be surrounded by so many loving people especially my daughter. I feel guilty that it seems like I am always counting down the days until I can go to Italy again or plotting my escape route back while carrying on in my "normal" life. In many ways, I sort of feel my blog has turned into an account of how much of an Italophile I am and my Italian adventures instead of my artistic endeavors. Is this what my life has become? The perpetual waiting to the next time I am in Italy?

I know this blog makes me sound like I am not grateful for the experiences that I have had, believe me, no one knows how incredibly thankful I am for this opportunity and previous trips. If I weren't awarded this grant to do research for my honor's thesis, I would have no clue when my next trip to Italy would have been so believe me, I am thankful for every gift the universe has given me.

But Italy, it's got that something that just has dug itself so deep into my soul and I cannot hide it. Every time I start to talk about Italy, my eyes light up, I get a fluttering excitement in my tummy, I smile, and sigh--I display all the signs of being madly in love. To these reactions, I often get the suggestion to move to Italy. Believe me, with every suggestion I get, I convince myself the universe is telling me to pack my bags and get on the next possible flight. I wish it were that simple. If it were, I would have never left the first time I went.

But let me turn this entry over to one of the main concerns of this blog: photography.

You know what I enjoy the most about being back? When people ask to see my photographs. Not only do I get the opportunity to relive the excitement of my trip but I have an excuse to look at my pictures without feeling guilty of looking at them when I should be doing more important things. And then, I also love people's comments.

Usually when I have shown these photographs (below), I get interesting comments. I suppose most of the time they expect to see some photographic documentation of me with a cheesy grin in front of X monument or location--instead they find themselves with photographs of empty plates, cappuccinos, random graffiti, etc…I guess to me there are enough photographs of monuments that it really takes away from the moment for me to photograph such redundancy. When I photograph my adventures, I want to document the REAL moments of my experience. I want the moment lived, the memories that come along with the moment. I want those to last forever! What use is another photograph of the Trevi Fountain? Just because I clicked the shutter or stand in front of it doesn't make it more or less special but it is the fleeting moments that escape, like a funny face of a friend, a delicious pizza, or an amazing sunset that mark an important conversation. It is those moments I want to remember because when I think about it, even photographs are only partially satisfying to reality because I still have to depend on the power of memory to truly transport me there.

In any case, here is a little taste of some of my most interesting moments (I am willing to share) in the order of occurrence with captions:

Inside the Basilica di Santa Maria Maggiore, Rome

Courtyard of my friend's house in Rome

Near la Fontana di Trevi

A fruit truck (reminded me of Nicaragua) in Naples

This is what the street I was staying at looked like in Naples

The barista made a heart in my cappuccino! (Naples)

Graffiti in Naples

Graffiti in Milan. Photo produced with my cellphone.

At La Gran Madre, Turin. Photo produced with my cellphone by: Stefano B. Photo edit: me!

La Gran Madre, Turin. Photo produced with my cellphone.

Turin

A delirious state

2011-11-28T20:02:00.000-08:00

I keep running a fever above 102℉ (39℃) since yesterday--in fact, I am certain I have a fever right now since I feel extremely cold but my skin is burning to the touch. Perfect timing if you ask me with all of the final papers and studying I have to do. I even missed the UCD General Strike today...or maybe I participated considering I have only moved from my bed to the couch and from the couch back to my bed. No school for me, just hallucinations. The day has been a haze, alternating between reality and a feverish dream like state.
In my feverish delirium this morning, I thought I was back here:

I even called out to (insert name here). It's my biggest held secret and it is better this way because this way it is only mine. The truth is, it's not wanderlust, it is love that takes me back to feverish August nights. They were so painfully short in memory and right now I feel a yearning...I want to go back. Or maybe I am stuck in a perpetual delirium, alternating in between a feverish lustful and loving influenza of the heart, body, and mind.

Eulogy to my grandmother

2011-10-18T00:33:00.000-07:00

This blog actually started out as a response to an email of a friend asking me how I was feeling from the death of my grandmother. Then I realized it was probably more than this person actually wanted to read so I decided to respond with a simple ok and spill the wreckage here:

I am doing mostly ok...it kinda depends on the moment. Sometimes I spontaneously burst into tears and cry. Right now I am fighting them because I have so much to do tonight since I decided to ignore my responsibilities for today in order to reflect. I needed to figure out why I am constantly bursting into tears because it made little sense to me, that I keep crying like this since yesterday after I received the call from my father that my grandmother had died.

To be honest, my relationship to my grandmother was minimal--after all she lived in Guatemala my whole life and I saw her a total of maybe 7-10 times--I am not even sure how accurate this number is. Mostly my memories of her consist of her telling me I am gorda (meaning fat in Spanish). Not really my most treasured memories but at least I met the woman. Maybe it was her way of showing affection and saying, "Your dad takes good care of you." Either way, it's true and it doesn't really matter to me at this point.

The more morbid side of me has thought about this day. I knew it would happen some day and I always thought that it would be like hearing the death of a celebrity in the news. Sort of like when I found out Steve Jobs died recently and I thought, "I hope his family is ok." And I would carry on with my life as if nothing had changed in my life. Yet when my call ended with my father, I bursted into tears. I was walking from downtown Davis to my house. There I was on 2nd St crying as I tried to hurry home to hideaway in my little nest of safety. I couldn't make sense of the feeling. Did I love this woman? Who was she to me?

It didn't take long that evening to figure out the source of pain: my father's voice. The most painful aspect of my grandmother's death has been hearing and seeing my father cry (this is only the fourth) about her death and knowing he wanted nothing more than to say goodbye in person before she passed away and that he didn't make it. My heartbreaks knowing he is Guatemala right now without me. I guess, it's more of a selfish pain that I feel because I want to be there with him to protect him or maybe I need him to protect me from my own thoughts? Maybe I am seeking reassurance that he is going to be ok?

As a little girl, my dad was like a superhero to me. There had never been anyone like him, he was my Zorro (the one and only Halloween costume I remember him wearing when I was about four years old). Yet, in the last few years I have noticed him getting considerably older and physically weaker. His once invincible muscular arms and legs seem to be part of some distant past, some kind of romanticized version of my father as this magical man capable of performing amazing physical feats. I was certain my dad could have beaten up any one of my ex-boyfriends. In fact, you know kids sometimes "joking" around say, "well my daddy can totally beat up your daddy." You remember that? Well, I told my ex (my daughter's father) that my papa could totally beat not his dad but him up. He looked at me and laughed but I was serious--I really believed it then. Man, I thought my dad was like Arnold back in his bodybuilding days...that man did not really exist but nonetheless it was the reality I was certain of.

So yeah, I thought my dad was my superhero, someone I could turn to no matter what. Now-a-days, I am far more reluctant to call when I need something because I don't want to stress him out--in fact, I don't do it anymore, I seek to solve my problems on my own. This is probably a mixture of self-responsibilty and this growing need to protect my father in some strange existential way that I am yet not able to articulate. When I go visit my parents, I look at his tired face and his ability to fall asleep in the mist of loud conversations, which he pretends to be a part of with a random comment that makes little to no sense to the conversation. I guess what I am trying to say with all of this is that the death of my grandmother just puts into perspective my father's own mortality. My father is aging. My dad is going to die. One day, I will lose him. Death is real.

So these tears that keep surfacing are my tears to him. He is grieving his mother but I am grieving him. My grieving is selfish because I won't miss my grandmother but I will miss father. I need to save him, somehow! Yet there is nothing I can do...

Another part of me knows that now my father is forever a changed man. The man my father was before my grandmother's death is now gone because I have seen the consequences of losing a mother. My maternal grandmother died December 30, 1998 and this date changed my mother forever. My mother always tells me the mourning of both parents being deceased is forever present and makes one feel like an orphan in the world because the people that have brought you into the world are gone. She says that you are no longer someone's child, you're an orphan.

I am not saying my dad will be like my mother, they are very different people with two very different outlooks on life but I know for a fact my father is forever changed and forever will feel this loss. Remember earlier when I said I had seen my father cry only three times prior to this? Well, one was a drunken night when I was a little girl where he was telling me he loved me, the other was when he talked about my grandfather (who died when my dad was only eighteen), and when I got married. Don't get me wrong, I honor this woman who raised twelve children on her own, my father being only the second oldest. But my grandmother is more of folklore to me, a women I only know through stories spun together by my father. I love her because she gave me him. For this I will be eternally grateful but I do not mourn her because she had her life, eighty-two years of it. I mourn for my father--he is now more vulnerable than ever--he is an orphan. I am not sure what it is like to be an adult Guatemalan man despite my vivid imagination but as a Latin-American (almost) thirty year old woman, I sometimes feel like I need my papa and my mami. There is a part of me that has refused to grow up and is vulnerable. From what I hear, this child remains a part of our lives and at times needs consoling. I imagine this child is present right now in my father. I want to cradle this child and hold him. I want him to feel comforted. This would comfort me.

This is why I want to be with him because I know he is in pain...I want to protect him from himself because he is only going to act like a "man" (in that Latin-American tradition) and hold the pain inside. He is going to feel obligated to be strong for the rest of my extended family. I don't want him to have to do that. He needs me.

Maybe I am elevating his ability to open up with me, maybe even this is some other fiction that resides in my head, but I honestly feel like he opens up to me more than anyone else. Not that he pours his soul but he exposes a little bit more of that vulnerability he was raised to eternally keep hidden. My father has never been a man of expressive emotions but I know inside of him lives an immensity of love, devotion, and optimism I have never known in anyone else. My dad is amazing, he is the type of person that you want to be next to in tragedy, he would turn it into a moment of thankful reflection. He'd be the one to remind you of everything you do have--that's my dad, eternal optimism. According to him, it will always gets better. And believe me, as much as it has irritated me at times because I want to be victimized, it is always my ultimate conclusion to my problems.

Yesterday when I drove him to San Francisco International, I could hear him crying. I couldn't see it because it was dark but the occasional wiping of the nose would confirm my suspicions. I wanted to cry too, I wanted to tell him that it was going to be ok. I didn't know how. I tried to talk to him about his feelings but I noticed that he was not really paying attention and possibly a little frustrated because I kept talking about it so finally I talked about frivolous things. I talked about my dreams and passions to which he seemed like he was only half listening, not that I expected more. The thing is, I was sharing these things with him because I wanted him to see that despite my rebellious years, he was continually (and still is) a source of inspiration for me. He never gave up, he never does. So in-between the frivolous words of my conversation of academics and the philosophical undercurrents of Arte Povera, I was secretly whispering into my words,"I am just like you, you see? I keep following my dream even when I have had to fight against the ocean currents that have knocked me down and constantly taken me back to shore."

I have never been the most conventional person or followed the most conventional path. I have been difficult and I am far from the conservative political ideals of my father. We don't agree on religion either. He thinks I am an atheist. Sometimes we sit in uncomfortable silences on the phone when he tries to "check" on me seemingly nonchalant. And sometimes even though we are both speaking in Spanish, it is like we are speaking two different languages. We rarely see eye-to-eye. My father is a man of mystery, part illusion and fantasy, some constructed from photographs, my faulty memory, and his fantastical stories interwoven with magic and white lies. Fundamentally, I am just like him. I am hardheaded, fire-spitting, won't take shit, hardworking person...it just took me nearly thirty years to realize it.

Although it may not seem like it, this really is a eulogy to my grandmother, even though my grief is not because if I am a consequence of my father, well then, I am eternally grateful to this woman I never really knew and helped form the first man I have ever loved.

Italia = amore o ossessione?

2011-06-29T01:16:00.000-07:00

I have 236 pages of reading tonight to complete for my classes tomorrow and I have read maybe 97 pages or so. I am so easily distracted and I have one obsession driving me crazy right now: Italy.
Instead of doing the reading I was assigned as homework, I have spent the last couple of hours reading, looking, etc about Italy...more specifically Rome. Maybe it doesn't help that I am reading Renaissance literature this summer and am studying the Italian Futurists in my "Avant-Gardism" class. Maybe all this love of Italy is birthed from the fact that I cannot get away from it. She is everywhere but then again she is here by choice, she is not forced upon me. After all, I have chosen to double major in Italian.
Did the whole universe conspire to this love? Was that fateful day in which I left to what I thought to be "randomness" to learn a new language predestined?
I cannot say. All I can say that that July of 2009 when I pulled "Italian" from my plastic bag, I was somewhat relieved that I wasn't going to have to learn a whole new script for Arabic. I remember immediately going to Livemocha and beginning my Italian "courses." Arguably we could say that Italian is so similar to Spanish and this has greatly facilitated my learning of it but I was also rather obsessive in my learning. I used to listen to the radio constantly, watched movies, tried to read in Italian--I am still amazed now when I listen (much less frequently) and I understand. I can understand! Isn't that amazing? Furthermore, people understand me! I speak and they understand me! I am by no means fluent but I am still amazed. I am amazed that what was once undecipherable is now intelligible language. Is it this that made me fall in love? Have I replaced all sense of romantic love into a country? It is possible.
I often say I am glad I am not Italian and I am very serious when I say this because if I was I probably would not love Italy as I do. The beauty of Italy is that it is not my own but foreign. Even in all of its foreignness it is mine because she has it all: art, food, language, music, landscape. She is not mine by obligation, she is mine because I have chosen her to be my lover and she always welcomes me with open arms. She does not stifle me. She accepts me with all my virtues and faults. And I have proof she loves me back because even when I visited her in winter she provided me beautiful sunny days and only rained the day of my departure.
Le sigh.
Do not ask me why I love her because I cannot tell you why. I just feel it. You know that sensation, the one that gives you butterflies in your tummy, that makes your chest ache, that makes you smile immediately at the thought...Italy is this to me. I cannot help but think of Carrie Bradshaw (sorry for those who never saw Sex in the City) and how she describe New York City as her lover. I understand now fully what she meant. The idea of Italy is so powerful in my mind, the ideal portrait of the Old World still living. Granted all of Europe contains this element but in Italy it is different. Maybe her landscape often reminds me of California and there is some comfort in that. Maybe it is the fact that the art I have loved from my childhood is housed in the Uffizi in Florence. Maybe it is the incredible diverse amounts of cheese and wine. Maybe it is the people and their melodious language accompanied by hand gestures. Non so e non posso spiegarlo, solo so che l'ho nel cuore.

Caution: I come with a warning label

2011-05-31T19:10:00.000-07:00

I caution you

run as fast as you can

because I am fire

a sharp tongued

dangerous

woman

Las dos Marianas

2011-04-12T11:48:00.000-07:00

Las dos Fridas, 1939
Frida Kahlo

Since I was a little girl I can remember struggling with my own sense of identity. As the daughter of a Nicaraguan mother and a Guatemalan father born in California, I often wondered what my position within American society is. Am I American? Am I Latina? Do I speak English or Spanish better? It seems like I was never American or Latina enough. If behave a certain way and my mother will say, "¡Ay que Americana eres!" (Oh, you are so American!) or maybe I am with my American friends and I will hear, "Oh, you are so Latina!" I used to think this was some kind of struggle that would eventually end for me, that one day I will find my place within society but here I am twenty-nine years later still caught in some type of purgatory of cultural identity.

Las dos Fridas

I don't remember how I learned of this painting or even how old I was when I first saw it but what I do know is how profoundly this image affected me even without knowing who Frida Kahlo was. What I can tell you is how this image followed me like a silent ghost in the recesses of my unconsciousness until I was about sixteen years old and picked up a book at my high school library during lunch one day and experienced Gestalt's "aha" moment. There it was, this image that had embodied my experience of cultural identity on a page staring back at me like a reflection of some vague notion living within me.

On the surface it is obvious that the image is of self-conflict, Frida Kahlo finds herself torn between two identities. On the lefthand side is the European influenced Frida. She is dressed in a white dress of European influence with little flowers located on the bottom border. In her righthand she holds a pair of scissors attempting to stop blood from dripping onto her dress from a vein. There is an open cavity in her chest where we see her visible heart that is cross-sectioned and is connected to the vein dripping onto her dress to the Frida to her left. The Frida on the righthand side is the Mexican Frida, she is wearing the traditional indigenous garment of Mexico (specifically Mexico City area). Her chest cavity is also opened but unlike the Frida on the left, her heart is complete and in her lefthand she is holding a tiny photo of her husband Diego Rivera. At the very epicenter of the painting both Fridas are joined by the hands reinforcing Fridas double penetrating stares onto the viewer. While analyzing this image not only are the two Fridas a direct reference to her internal conflict of identity but it also speaks in symbolism. The gray cloudy background only adds to the sense of confusion and uncertainty.

I guess it shouldn't come as a surprise that this image spoke to "little" Mariana, my rebel and turmoiled Mariana, and now adult Mariana. There is something in me that has not changed even after all these years. I am still lost in my sense of cultural identity. I do not feel a citizen of any country or part of any culture. Although I do identify with certain parts, I am not faithful to any. I will never be Latina enough. I will never be American enough. Case closed.

So where do I go from here? Lately, I have been having some guilt about my studies. I am starting to feel a traitor to my Latina side. After all, I am so involved with the study of European art and as if this were not enough, I have become somewhat obsessed with European life. I can speak fluent Spanish, advanced Italian, moderate level of French and more obviously, I speak fluent English. My whole life is a representation of the colonization and domination of European culture, to only be reinforced by American imperialism. Sitting in my classes, I feel so departed from my Latina identity. Who have I become? What is the importance of identity?

Las dos Fridas has been on my mind lately. These are some of the questions that this painting deals with, Frida Kahlo is asking herself about her position in society, her identity as a woman, and artist. She was a socialist, an advocate of the indigenous groups, she dealt with the conflict of her unfaithful husband--she was struggling with a multifaceted struggle of her identities. Her figure is parted into two physical parts but these two selves contain other smaller parts of identity. I don't want to go too deep into further analysis of these smaller parts which depart from my purpose but they are certainly worth exploring at some point.

I conclude this thought with this: I want to do my honors thesis on Frida Kahlo. I am not sure what I want to do or what the goal of this thesis will be but I feel a moral obligation to write about her. I know a part of this exploration is personal but the personal often times transcends to a greater population. I know that my confusion of cultural identity is a commonplace occurrence of 1st generation born Latinos. We struggle with our sense of identity, with the duality of the cultural components that formulate Latin American identity itself and because art is a reflection of the human experience, it is this that has inspired my desire to further explore Frida Kahlo and her cultural significance in the history of art.

Chemtrails

2011-03-18T18:04:00.000-07:00

I have been photographing chemtrails from my iphone a lot lately. I see them everywhere so I decided why not start photographing them. Granted, I am always on the move and I rarely carry my DSLR for practical reasons so I have been making cell photography my main medium these days. My friend Naomi was so kind to send me the info on an app to download called Instagram. Although I try to avoid social networks because I am paranoid and I think they are tracking systems, I do love the idea! Anyway, I am obsessed with this app now. I love it! Not only can you share photos but it has a handy editing tool. Anyway, here is a screenshot of the program and some chemtrail photos I have taken and then used Instagram to edit.

Taken in Elk Grove - 17-Mar-2011

Taken near UC Davis - 10-Mar-2011

Taken near CCAS - 13-Feb-2011

Taken northbound on Highway 99 - 02-Feb-2011

I want to make movies...

2011-03-10T10:10:00.000-08:00

I heart U too

2011-03-01T09:55:00.000-08:00

I love coffee. Every morning I make my latte with a lot of joy and tenderness. It is a labor of love and an art if you ask me. After all, coffee as savory as it can be, it can also be quite disgusting if it isn't done just right. I love my espresso maker so much that the day I bought it last April, I took a picture of myself with it (see below). I prepare 3 shots of espresso as I warm up a cup of vanilla soy milk on the stove. First, I pour the espresso into my favorite glass, then add the soy milk and my final touch of agave syrup. It may not the most authentic Italian coffee but I love it all the same. What is the best part of making a latte? Making a design with the milk. But this morning...

to be honest, I was running late this morning and I was not able to prepare my coffee. So I proceeded with the next best thing, to go to Temple Coffee and ordered a soy latte. Granted, I think it is a peccato to pay over $4 for a latte when I make a delicious one myself or when I know I can get away paying 0,80€ in Italy but at least Temple has good coffee and my coffee expresses the same affection for me as I do to it even if not prepared by my own hands.

Tis the night before my birthday...

2011-02-24T19:19:00.000-08:00

On the eve of my twenty-nineth birthday I cannot help but to reflect on my life, about the things I have done and the future that awaits me. Sure, there are plenty of things in my life that I could have done without or that I could have done better but all-in-all, I have very little to complain about and as for my future, although it is more uncertain than say that of a Pre-Med major, I am lucky to have the opportunity to learn.

Every morning during my commute to Davis, I listen to NPR. I listen to the news and as of recent, the news is dominated by the revolutions in the Middle East. I am proud that there are revolutions occurring...people standing up for what they believe in. Yet, that is easy to say from my privileged position. I hate hearing about the current violence, the suffering of innocent people. I hate knowing that for some right now, a peaceful sleep does not exist and turmoil dominates daily life. I hate there is nothing that I can do to change it. Today it is Libya dominating the media, but it would be naive of me to ignore the fact that there there is pain and suffering happening around the globe--injustice and exploitation of people to help maintain and perpetuate my way of life. It is easy to complain about simple things when there is little to complain about.

For those that know me, and know me well (or maybe those that have caught me in my rants), know my political opinions about our form of government and the downfalls of our capitalist society but yet, I have to admit that I l am fortunate. I am thankful for the opportunity to receive a higher education...the opportunity to talk!

Today after my "Great Cities" class, I had an insightful and satisfying conversation with my professor. As I walked away in the downpour to my car parked about 1.5 miles (2,4 km) away, I kept thinking how amazing it is to discuss ideas! Furthermore, to have someone knowledgable on the subject to give me input. This is not an opportunity given to everyone and I recognize this. I could not find the room to complain despite being cold and being soaked from head to toe. I could not find the capacity to complain that I had to put my last $20 into my car tank as I drove soaking wet to the gas station. Even know as I write this, I cannot find the words to complain that I have to study for my Italian exam tomorrow. Passato Remoto is nothing compared to the thought of having a war breakout just outside my door.

There is a point in this blog...I swear!

So ok, I hate...no loathe that I am turning another year older. I don't like that I am going to have to collect some change from around the house to fill up my car with gas again here soon. I don't like that my favorite pair (and second to only pair of jeans) are about to have a hole in them. There are plenty of things that I don't like about my life and I am unsatisfied about but I have very little room to complain. I have a roof over my head. I have food on the table. I have clothes to wear. I have the chance to get an education. So what if I have an Italian exam tomorrow and I am not adequately prepared? There are people dying out in the world, don't have a place to sleep, don't have food, etc.
Everyday I want to wake up and feel fortunate, I want to feel empathy, I want to live and learn, I want to love, and I want peace.

I am not saying the status quo is ok, there are plenty of things that can be changed right here but I am fortunate and from my position of privilege, I cannot complain! Things could be much harder. I could be in Iraq, the Congo, in the slums of India, let's not to go so far, the slums of Guatemala. I am thankful. I repeat one hundred times: I am thankful.
What will I do with this marvelous opportunity in my life? What will I do with the privilege given to me? I must be the best I can be. To make other's sacrifice's worthwhile. I cannot change the world but I will do everything in my power to make the world a better place, beginning with me.
Here is to another year...Happy Birthday me.

Addition at 19.55:
Yasmin was curious as to what I was writing and asked me to read it to her (occasionally she likes me to read my term papers to her too, hahaha). Afterwards she said that it was really moving and yes, she actually used the word "moving." She said that she also wishes there was less violence in the world and said, "We need peace not war so everyone can be happy." And there it is: Se lo capisce una bambina, il mondo completo devi capirlo. :)
Ok, now I must really study for this exam tomorrow. Arrivederci!

Random post of the day: Objects of Death

2011-01-11T21:41:00.000-08:00

Random projects of art that I have done in the last few months.

Oh what fun...

2010-12-23T16:47:00.000-08:00

Flour and Sugar...check

Chocolate chips...check

A crazy seven year old ready to bake...check

I have everything to make the best deserts for Christmas. Yasmin and I got a little zealous to prepare our double chocolate chip cupcakes that we began eating our chocolate chips early. Unfortunately, I think we might have to go to the store again tomorrow though to re-buy our chocolate chips because we had a little too many to eat today.

Happy Holidays!

Images of friends

2010-12-14T08:50:00.000-08:00

Suddenly now that I have more time to do pleasurable things (since school is out), I can dedicate my time to photographing and editing more. Have I ever mentioned how much I love it when friends come to visit me at work? In case you didn't know, I work at the Center for Contemporary Art, Sacramento. I love my job. I love being around art and I love talking to people about art. Educating people about art and art history has become one of my life's passions hence the reason why I am studying it further to deepen my knowledge and understanding. But anyway, I am getting off topic here.
This past Saturday was Second Saturday and I had visitors and my camera so these were the results.

My sweet little Brenda Esquivel

My recently engaged friend and artist, Heather Marshall

Friend and artist, Salvatore Victor

The beautiful Star Mendez

Clearly, just one photo is not enough of Star.

Cell Phone Photograhy

2010-12-14T04:24:00.000-08:00

Who takes this kind of photography seriously?
I don't know, sometimes I feel sort of ashamed admitting how much joy I get from photographing with my cell phone. I like the convenience, I like that it doesn't require me carrying my camera because after all, after that experience in Como, Italy of dropping my camera, I am even more afraid to carry it around too much. Besides, it seems that electronics and I don't seem to get along too well.
Don't even get me started about my last year with cell phones. In 2010 have gone through four phones, one iphone and three blackberries. I am over expensive cell phones. It appears I am not responsible enough to own an expensive cell phone so I caved in and got a simple phone. Unfortunately, there is a price to pay, my new cell phone only has 2 mega pixels. I didn't think about this fact, after all my second calling in life is cell phone photography. Oh well, such is life.
So in honor of the cell phone images I have taken in the past, I decided to share some of my favorite ones from my trip in Europe this summer. Besides I am suffering from wanderlust but hey, what else is new?

London, England

Beveren, Belgium

Amsterdam, The Netherlands: My friend Siemen, who I met in California summer 2009.

Amsterdam, The Netherlands: My wonderful Greek friend George that I met while in Holland.

Den Haag, The Netherlands

Amsterdam, The Netherlands

Amsterdam, The Netherlands: My Dutch sister Joanna aka Juanita

Paris, France (do I really even need to label this?)

Paris, France

Florence, Italy: The best breakfast in all the world, cornetto and cappuccino.

Perugia, Italy: Umbria Jazz Festival. The band playing is Libbico and the Almost Blues.

Perugia, Italy

Loro Ciuffenna, Italy: The studio of the amazing artist Venturino Venturi.

Chianti, Italy

Milan, Italy

Como, Italy

Barcelona, Spain: Casa Mila

Barcelona, Spain: La Sagrada Familia

Barcelona, Spain: Parc Guëll

Barcelona, Spain: ME!

CCAS Benefit Art Auction

2010-11-17T16:32:00.000-08:00

Yours truly will be working this Saturday at the CCAS Benefit Art Auction. Not only will you be supporting this wonderful museum (where I am happily employed) but you will be contributing to contemporary art education in the Sacramento. Also, as if those weren't reasons enough, one of my photographs is in the silent auction so come on by and bid!
For more information click here.

The 2010 Benefit Art Auction is the primary fundraiser for the Center for Contemporary Art, Sacramento. It features the work of 115 artists, primarily from the greater Sacramento region. The auction is a combination of live and silent- this year the auctioneer will be David Sobon.

I used to do this thing called "photography"

2010-11-11T21:54:00.000-08:00

Yeah, lately I feel so deprived. Granted, I am doing my photography work related freelance projects but there is something missing in my photographic life. Am I feeling nostalgic for film? Am I missing the sound of the shutter and the film run? I miss the darkroom, that's for sure. I miss the smell of chemicals not washing off my hands. I miss the sound of the running water and those barely luminescent red lights. I feel nostalgia for a time gone by...

This image was taken circa 2004 with my old Nikon 35mm.

Hymn of a dying cynic

2010-10-31T15:25:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I like to write s*#$&@ poetry too.

Hymn of a dying cynic

Fiery intoxication of the best and worst kind.
I feel you seeking me
your eyes search for answers
underneath the surface.
I have become a splinter
lurking within the shadows of your thoughts
where you decorate my image with the thirst of desire.
I make you suffer a bittersweet agony
you hope to deny.
But I don't understand this reasoning
I say, if you feel it
let love intoxicate,
suffer its feverish chills
let it infect every last inch of your being
soak its venom right into your soul
let it kill you
and bring you back to life
turn life into poetry.
Your love has already begun to saturate my veins
she inspires the muses and awakens my soul
My once empty canvases
that lay like carcasses on the bedroom floor
have sprung to life
filled with vibrating colors and music.
Sweet love, take me further
push me off this cliff and see me fall
watch my body twist in sweet agony.
Let me house you in the temple of my loins
cradle your insecurities
wrap you in the cloak of my love!
Share this agony with me
so in turn we can both be captives of the same affliction.

October 7, 2010 © Mariana Moscoso

No Time. No Editing.

2010-09-30T13:25:00.000-07:00

I wish I could write an awesome and well thought out review of my experience at this year's Lambda Fall Spectacular put on by McGeorge School of Law but unfortunately, my life, has been crowded by work, school and above all: child. I am starting to wonder why a day only has 24 hours and why does it feel like I never get enough sleep. It may sound like I am complaining but honestly, I don't think I have been happier. I am busy beyond reason but this is the spice of life. I am living. I like that.

Honestly, it feels like such a crime not to include a whole set that I enjoyed of the show but right now with this limited time, I can only give a tease.

2nd Annual Lambda Fall Spectacular

2010-09-12T20:52:00.000-07:00

I was there for the first one and it was loads of fun! I suggest that if you are in the Sacramento that day that you don't miss out on this event.

I took this photo last year...remember?

What's the point of having a child if you cannot brag about them?

2010-09-10T09:51:00.000-07:00

This morning my daughter received an academic award for being an excellent speller! Sometimes I wonder if this child is even mine with this ability because it is certainly not my forte (thank goodness for spell check). Needless to say, I love her.

Yasmin = LOVE

Color me Rainbow

2010-09-06T10:15:00.000-07:00

Labor Day weekend is possibly the busiest weekend in Sacramento this year. There is so many different events going on that choosing just one to go to is simply torture. Well, at least for me! On top of this, I worked at CCAS this Sunday so it left very little time Sunday to be out and about. I did on the other hand catch the last hour of the Rainbow Festival Street Fair. I have to say that I caught the crowning of Miss Trans and I saw Fedro perform. The final hour was certainly exciting and fun!

Fedro

This scene of Faces reminded me of Edward Hopper's Nighthawks

Miss Trans 2010

Miss Trans 2009

Holland and the World Cup

2010-09-02T20:50:00.000-07:00

The madness of the World Cup has never been fully understood or recognized by Americans. Americans fail to see the importance of this international sport that most countries call football and not soccer. I got little tastes here and there of this fever known as the World Cup in my latin household. I grew up with my Sunday mornings dedicated to watching my dad play soccer in Oakland. It was a ritual accompanied by going to church. I was a devoted follower of my father, admiring him from the sidelines thinking My dad is the best player of the whole team. It is a strange sensation to look at this same old man age...but I am getting off topic.

The madness of the World Cup in Holland was like nothing I had ever seen for soccer before. Even those Sunday mornings cheering my father from the sidelines. Watching other fans yell and scream in Spanish could never amount to the thrill of the World Cup that I experienced from the moment I was in Europe. What a great time to go! The whole world united under this common goal of watching and supporting their team. It was a union of brotherly competition that brings the world together! I love that. I love that differences within countries dissipate and people come together for this beautiful sport.

I can't lie and say that I watch futbol religiously or even know the different teams. I know a little bit here and there but not enough to say I know anything worthwhile. There was a little girl in me that frothed from the ashes when I was in Amsterdam that watched with all the thrill I used to feel watching my papito play. So I screamed and yelled as if I was a lifetime faithful to the Holland team. I wore my oranje (orange in Dutch) shirt and I supported "my" team to the end. After all, I was in Holland and Holland has always been good to me.
Anyway, I have so many photographs from the World Cup games leading to the semi-finals, the semi-finals, and the final itself. Sadly, Holland didn't win but in any case there is always the next championship. Hup, Holland Hup!

I have not dedicated myself to editing all the photos of this amazing experience but I want to share some with you all. From the Holland vs Uruguay game:

My Hermanita, Joanna

My friend Siemen

Celebration!

Save the toilet paper

Winners!

Madness in the streets

Many hours later...still celebrating victory into the finals:

P.S. Don't forget to support my new endeavor FCC.

Riding About It

2010-08-16T21:52:00.000-07:00

Oh hello everyone, I am (finally) here to show you images from my bike ride from Amsterdam to Antwerp. Ok so there are a few things I should mention. I know it is a SUPER late update but this was impossible to avoid. For one, I lost my backpack (promise this story is coming) and inside it was my journal which had detailed documentation of my trip and now I must rely entirely on memory but now the issue I am facing is that as time continues forward, the less accurate my memories become. Secondly, I have been so insanely busy taking care of personal matters that it has left little time to update my blog. Also please check out my new goal, I am ready to repeat this trip and take myself a little further...ok, a lot further than last time.

On the bright side, I got a lot of great shots but I am selfish and I think I will only share a few. I am thinking that I might link up my blog with some sort of photo viewing site so that I can share more pictures (uploading pictures here is a little annoying) and then you can make comments on singular images. Any suggestions of what I can use? In the past I used photobucket but I don't know if there is something out there that is better.

So without any further hold ups, here are my most beloved images with captions:

Day 1: Commencing the journey

Obviously, since I am in another country there are different types of warning signs for cars, pedestrians, and bikes. Now in retrospect, I really wish I had taken the time to photograph each one that I liked but unfortunately I didn't. Between you and me, I really hate looking like such a tourist photographing everything I see! Anyway, the sign that you see on the left is one of my favorites because the man is wearing a hat. I mean, how cute is that? A figure in a sign wearing a hat?! Makes me think of Magritte's Son of Man. At the time that I saw this sign I had no idea what the top part of the sign said until I used my magical language powers to decipher it (ok, ok it was google translator) it reads, "No Admittance". I am not sure if they are talking about people or cars but in any case. I walked on the pathway, innocently, to look at the house that had been converted from an old castle (image #2).

Cool, huh? Cooler still is that it had it's own personal draw bridge not because of a moat but due to the fact that a canal ran behind it and boats have to be able to pass through (image #3). The man in the image is bridge keeper, meaning he had to lift the bridge each time that a boat was trying to get by, the boat pays him €2, and they are able to pass. This man was the first experience I had with a Dutch person that did not speak English. And from what I learned, many people in the countryside don't necessarily speak English unlike the Amsterdamers (as they call themselves).

These were the first images that I took outside of Amsterdam and I have to admit that the Dutch landscape is quaint and tranquil, just as I always imagined it being. There were plenty of windmills and dairy cows...and endless farm landscapes. For being such a small country it does have a lot of open spaces.

A little bit about American History, New York before being New York was actually New Amsterdam. Why you may ask? Well, the answer is very simple, during the colonization of the United States the Dutch actually had colonies in the present-day New York area. In fact, much of the area stretching from present day New York to Rhode Island was under Dutch control and was initially called New Netherland (Nieuw Nederland in Dutch). Therefore some names in this area, take for instance Harlem, are carbon copy names from Dutch cities that already existed at the time--Harlem was once upon a time spelled Haarlem, until the English took control of the area. Anyway, the following images were taken in an abandon warehouse in Breukelen, pronounced like Brooklyn (Get it? It was Dutch too). I just really like this location...I love the look and feeling of abandonment because in truth, what appears to be abandoned is never truly ignored. Mariana Philosophy 101.

Day 2: Exiting Holland and entering Belgium

As much as I would love to remember the name of this little town, I don't know it. In fact, even if I looked on a map, I probably could not remember the name. Sadly, this is some of the information that I lost along with my journal (don't worry like I said this comes in a later posting). At least I have some images to remember the location.

Don't you just love the bike road? I am in love with Holland's bike roads.

Near the border with Belgium, there were many strawberry farms near the bike road. I could smell the strong scent of strawberries as I rode along. This was far too tempting and what better reward after riding for many hours than to enjoy the sweet little perfections sold at this particular location, if I am not mistaken is somewhere between Rijsbergen and Zundert.

View Larger Map

Anyway, look at the beautiful and perfect little strawberries below that were super cheap (only €2) for a large basket. I had bought a jar of jam but when I arrived into Antwerp, I broke the jar. Sad face. I was going to bring this jar with me back home remember these strawberries and possibly share with my family but I didn't even get to keep it in my possession for a day and I think the most I tasted of it was a tablespoon because I could not bare to throw the whole jar away without trying a little bit.

Crossing the Belgium border...

Day 3: Arriving in Antwerp

We all know how much I love graffiti.

This is the Cathedral of Our Lady

Statue of Barbo in Grote Markt

This is the lovely Ellenita, my sweet friend and penpal. She is the one I am referring to in my past blog Thoughts on a Flight Black version 2.0. This girl is rockin' fun and probably one of the sweetest persons one could ever meet! I miss her so much and I can't wait until she comes to visit me in California. Ellenita, I know you are reading this...see I put this in a blog so now everyone knows you will be here so you better come!!

And so these are the images I have to share of bike trip from Amsterdam to Antwerp (which by the way is spelled Antwerpen in Vlaams aka Flemish in English). I have a gazillion images on my hard drive but if I posted all of them, it would take me hours of storytelling and editing. If I told you how long I have been working on this blog, you wouldn't even believe it and I know it doesn't seem like much. In any case, my time in Belgium was much too short and I am determined to visit again and see more of it. I hear that Gent (Ghent) is amazing and I want to go to Bruxelles (Brussels) to visit the Magritte Museum, and more importantly, I want to see my friend Ellenita again in her element. Maybe by then I will be speaking the secret language Dutch, although you should know that the people of northern Belgium speak Flemish not Dutch as I have been kindly told. Amai!

So what images are in store for us next? Amsterdam and the World Cup Finals. Until next time!

Thoughts on a flight back version 2.0

2010-07-29T08:03:00.000-07:00

I am still adjusting to being back home. I am trying to keep myself entertained, ready to get back to work, and mentally prepared to go back to school. But for now, I have this to share:

7/27/10 7:22 PM (+1 GMT)—10:22 AM (-9 Pacific)

According to the little screen in the seat in front of me there are seven hours and four minutes until I arrive in San Francisco and the melancholy of wanderlust has already begun to settle in. There isn’t any amount of words or images that I could compile that could explicate to the fullest the adventures I have lived the last 35 days. As much as I miss my family and most importantly my daughter, I have to admit that a part of me wants to continue forward with the adventure but all good things must come to an end and this adventure is no exception.

I received a very special gift from my friend and penpal Ellenita, as I call her, to read on my train ride from Antwerp to Amsterdam. She gave me a list of her 50 favorite traveling quotes to read. As I read them I cried because I not only related to the words immensely but because I had left behind a true friend and I was not sure when I would see her again (I hate goodbyes). These quotes came at a very important time in my journey where I felt so scared and vulnerable of what the future of my trip would be like…when I was so close to regretting leaving home and thinking very strongly about coming home early. Ellenita, although only knowing me physically for only three days (but about six months through handwritten letters and art) knew exactly what to share with me. In these quotes I rediscovered all the joys of traveling and finally organized my thoughts as to why I love traveling so much, it is realizing that traveling has the ability to make us vulnerable and trusting to humanity to a degree that can only be comparable to falling in love. To me traveling has become not about what I see but the experiences I share with those I meet. Believe me, sitting in front of the Eiffel Tower alone was great but it suddenly became far more amazing when a young French man approached me and told me not only the history of the Eiffel tower but his personal heartbreak story which included this iconic tower, an affair, and ultimately to the destruction of his relationship. It is these genuine stories that make traveling so fulfilling—it is the little things that people can only share with you because they’re not paid tour guides designated to share with you a certain story but because they are real people with histories and experiences. One cannot help but conclude that in the end, humans are humans no matter where you go and that we all fundamentally feel and desire similar things. In traveling we realize the only thing that really changes are languages, cultures, and environments. These things we call borderlines are just fictional lines that categorizes us into labels that sets a group of rules on the way people see us. Amazing (verbazingwekkend).

Maybe being a lonesome traveler has made me become that bartender that listens to all the stories of clientele coming into the bar. You hear all sorts of stories from all sorts of people of all sorts of walks of life. Some people you meet along the way you know that you will keep in contact with, some you feel so insanely connected you can’t help but wonder why the universe is so cruel to keep you over 10,000 miles apart, and others, well, they are just people of the moment or enter to give you an anecdote. In any case, each experience is gratifying and has some inherent lesson. And oddly enough by being a lonesome traveler I have discovered that I am never truly alone. Loneliness is the one bond we all share.

Before I left, a fellow artist said to me that he had read a very interesting book about randomness and that life is composed of continuously random situations that are meaningless. I find this so difficult to believe because every single experience has lead me to something greater, something more grand and fascinating. And if it is all just randomness and chaos, what a beautiful randomness and chaos humans live in! Even daily and ordinary life can be extraordinary to the eyes of a stranger.

So you see, I can show you all the images I have taken, I can tell you of the places I saw and the people I met but it is just not enough. It is not enough to tell or show, it is something that can only be lived. Then again, maybe if I had the gift of writing I could share with you the details of each and every one of my experiences. And so this is the beginning of an end and I am completely transformed once again.

To the people I have met along the way, I have to thank EVERY single one of you, you have all played an important part of the story of my life. Each one has left me stories to replay in my memory. I love these memories, to contemplate them in the moments of the mundane routine.

And so since I already wrote a blog of my experience in London, the only logical conclusion is to share my experience beginning in Amsterdam on June 26 but this writing I will begin in another moment because my laptop battery life is running low and I think I want to take a nap to kill some hours to San Francisco. The plane ride home is always the hardest because there is too much time for reflection and fermenting of memory…the longing and desire to go back.

And by the way this time, I didn’t miss my flight home…just in case you were wondering.

Travel Blog: London

2010-07-16T04:48:00.000-07:00

I really wish that I was good at live updating when all the excitement from my adventures are fresh but due to the excitement and the desire to live each moment to the fullest, I avoid spending too much time on the net or editing images.
I feel like it was ages since I was in London but really it was only 24 days ago...well in the normal world that is not a long time but in the vacation world, it is truly an infinite amount of days.
My time in London was a great prologue to this vacation. I saw many of the famous spots in London and even visited the Tate Museum. I think it is pretty good considering that I was only there for two days. I have to admit that I got very little sleep which is probably made it so that I could experience more. I met many amazing people, including my Spanish penpal Javier. The only regret I have is not spending more time in London--maybe next time I visit Europe. Here are my favorite images.

At SFO

on the Underground from Heathrow

I had written down the name of the street in my journal but currently it is not in my possession any longer (this story will come later).

view from the Waterloo bridge

I heart bikes too

The Houses of Parliament

My penpal Javier

View from the Queen's Walk at Sunset

Hup Holland Hup

2010-07-13T02:28:00.000-07:00

It is a shame to think that I am horrible at live updating. Amsterdam has been absolute chaos during these weeks due to the World Cup. It is a shame that I did not witness the historic event of them being champions but I have to admit that it was fun nonetheless. Today the Holland team returns and there will be a parade going through the canals and ending in Museumplein, if I am not mistaken. Therefore as much as I would love to share photos and stories of my Dutch adventures right now you'll have to satisfy yourself with a cute picture because I need to get myself out of the house and celebrate! Dag (Bye)!

First Impression

2010-06-24T21:41:00.000-07:00

I love London. The End.
A real blog will come later, promise!

London T-2, Prep for my bike tour to Brussels, and beyond...

2010-06-21T10:05:00.000-07:00

It's a surreal and exciting feeling when one is waiting for imminent travel. In my head, I am constantly traveling but to physically remove myself from this reality and enter a new one, this is the best of all. My bags are packed, I have pending appointments to finish pending business, and I am attempting to update my website with new images (I have been bad about this). I have many projects to complete while gone and I have new ones I will start when I get back. It is an exciting new adventure I am embarking on not only on a personal level but a professional level as well. First stop, London in jolly ol' England.

What many people don't know is that I am about to take on the biggest physical challenge of my life, I am riding my bike from Amsterdam to Brussels. The original plan was to ride from Amsterdam to Paris which is about 508 km (316 mi) but do to certain circumstances it has been changed around a little, but it is an exciting event nonetheless! I am going with my wonderful friend John H. and we will begin our ride June 27 in Amsterdam and are scheduled to arrive in Brussels, July 2. This trip is approximately 204 km (127 mi) so a 408 km (254 mi) roundtrip! Although I would love to document this event in real time and post images as it is occurring, I will not be taking my laptop on the bike ride so I will be writing in my journal and I will blog and post pictures when I get back to Amsterdam approximately July 8.

Now, considering this is the greatest physical challenge of my life I knew I needed to do something more than what I was currently doing to prepare for this bike tour. For one, I was going to need to bike more and more often. Granted, I already rode my bike a whole lot and recently I have been averaging 48 km (30 mi) a day. My longest ride of this season was of 106 km (66 mi) from Elk Grove to Davis and back--and this is all not on a road bike. This has been the less than painful portion of my preparation...
Ladies and gentlemen, I now present to you John Reynolds...don't let the sweet innocent face fool you.
The painful preparation was brought to me by my personal trainer John Reynolds, the most hated personal trainer in Sacramento. Oh and how I have hated him as I did what felt like my one millionth squat.

But truth be told, I love the man, even as he made me sweat so it looked like I just stepped out of the shower, made my legs shake to the point I could not walk, he made me a stronger and more prepared for this trip. I can now do ten pushups without stopping! And they are REAL pushups not those whimpy girl pushups. So if you are looking for some real personal training that will rock your world, John is your man.
Today is my last training session before I leave, I will miss this torture sessions and his encouragement. But believe me when the ride gets tough, I will remember the sound of his voice pushing me forward. Thanks John!

And so, this is my last blog in the States for the next 40 days...stay tuned for images and commentary.
Ciao e a presto amici!

Presenting Mr. and Mrs. Moscoso

2010-05-28T14:13:00.000-07:00

Today my little brother got married. It is a very strange feeling, a part of me thinks he is absolutely crazy and maybe he is a little. But isn't that what love about? Finding that person to join us in our insanity and together you can share your insanity? I can't help but look at my baby brother and see the cute chubby face three year old that I adored. Seeing him get married has opened a floodgate of memories. I wish Claudia and my brother, Alfredo, all the happiness in the world. I love you baby brother and welcome to the Moscoso clan Claudia!

Studio Light Fun

2010-05-25T19:56:00.000-07:00

Before my dear friend Naomi left for her "Great Escape" I asked if she planned on selling her studio lights because I was very interested in purchasing them. After having them in my possession for over a month now, I have finally been putting them to good use. I have to admit that although I am a lover of natural light, studio lights open up the opportunity for I-feel-like-doing-photography-but-there-isn't-enough-light photo shoots (haha, were you able to follow that?). And so, I have been photographing many different things at many different times and these are some of the fun projects I have been working on:

Some photos for Imagine All That Vintage:

Now just for fun:

The following two pictures are Yasmin and her Tia (aunt in Spanish) Dana:

Our rendition of "Hear no evil, speak no evil, and see no evil"

The following image is a satirical self-portrait of my opinion of the times we live in. Notice the cell phone, the bad habits (smoking), and the casino coffee mug. The text was added in by my sweet penpal Ellen, who said she would print this out to put in her kitchen.

The little ham known as Yasmin...

2010-05-19T19:22:00.000-07:00

It is an understatement if I were to say that my daughter, Yasmin, is entertaining. I have to say that a little part of me rejoices every time she asks me to take her photo because I know I am guaranteed to have fun doing it. Even after a long day of shooting for business, I still found the inspiration to photograph her. She's such a little ham, don't you just want to eat her up?

Visions of the Grove...

2010-05-02T01:38:00.000-07:00

Much needed contemplation while pedaling on two wheels and my camera anxiously waited in my basket for these images to create themselves. These shots were taken in Elk Grove, California off of Calvine and Grantline Roads.

The things I do when I am in love...

2010-03-21T22:15:00.000-07:00

There always comes a moment when the desire to create becomes more than just a desire, it is an uncontrollable need. My hands have been rather useless to me, well, that's not entirely true. My hands help me everyday throughout this existence I perpetually live in, doing wonderful things such as playing with my daughters toes or scratching an itch but this is nor here nor there. My point is: I came to the point that I needed to do some art with my hands!
People always mock me because I collect the weirdest things. I save almost everything I deem "important" from bus passes, museum tickets, to random pieces of paper. You call it trash, I call it gold. Now, when I travel or I am experiencing something important, I really save odd things like tea bag wrappers and napkins. When I was on my vacation, I saved boarding passes, advertisements, and maps (a little secret: I love maps). When I got back, I placed all my "trash" into a box because I knew that same day I would use it. I have many boxes like this...things I am saving because one day it will be handy to me. Many of these boxes have remained untouched for years.
Lucky for this little vacation box, I am in love and when I am in love, I need to create. My dormant hands grabbed this vacation box and a dusty blank canvas and began to magically lay pieces into shape. Now, I'm not saying this is a grand masterpiece, nor do I expect it to be hanging at the MoMA someday but this was exactly what my hands were craving to do. Now my hands are satisfied and my passionate heart are content.

This is my tribute to my giro in Italia!

P.S. In case you are wondering who (ok, ok, what) I am in love with, does the subject of this collage give you an idea?

Riddle: What happens when you put two artists in an art museum?

2010-03-16T12:55:00.000-07:00

Answer: You not only spend over four and a half hours in the museum but you also look at, discuss, and create art in the process.
The art museum is the amusement park of artists and yesterday I went to one of my favorite local amusement parks in San Francisco, with my artist friend Justin Buell, the Museum of Modern Art (better known as the SF MoMA). I think I have finally found my art viewing soulmate in California. We had way too much fun and it was wholesome geeky art goodness. These are the images that document our adventure:

La Négresse blonde - Constantin Brancusi

Photographing the shadows of sculptures

Lichtenstein through Lichtenstein

My favorite (newly discovered) art pieces (trust me it was hard to narrow this down):

Ten, A - Richard Tuttle

Untitled - Barry McGee

Museum Views

People

Photos I took of a couple Watching a film:

Watching a film through my hand

Justin

Ghosts of artists

Man mimicking nature

The view from the MoMA

Where's Waldo?

Post museum relaxation at Dolores Park...

But creative minds never stop

Finalmente: Roma!

2010-03-12T21:27:00.000-08:00

As I have aforementioned, I did not take many photographs as one would expect in Europe. But I did take many more in Roma than I did the other places. I have to admit that I had a rather difficult time scraping up the courage to look at these photos. A part of me didn't want to mutate the image of my mind of Roma with actual images of Roma. Nonetheless, I feel a longing that I cannot put into words when I see these photographs. I am in love with La Città Eterna. But this you already know from my previous blog about Roma. So here I am exactly 40 days later after leaving Roma posting these images and without further ado, my version of Roma, in chronological order (except for the last image):

First things first, Musei Vaticani

Don't ask me why but I love photographing police officers. Remember the one I took in Masachapa?

Can you see my reflection?

Basilica Papale di San Pietro in Vaticano

I climbed stairs...and then more stairs but I eventually got to this...

the ceiling inside the Basilica and I also saw this...

Piazza di San Pietro

Seeing the city from so high above was so amazing. I could see many of the famous spots of Roma.

The best shot I got of Pietà

La Fontana di Trevi

The fountain that has shaped my childhood dreams.

During the day...

and at night. Yes, I went twice. Actually, I went four times!

Il Colosseo

La Porta Portese

The Roman flea market and I found many treasures that I brought home with me.

He was the most interesting character that I met in Roma. He would not let just anyone buy his stuff. I don't understand why but he was extremely particular to who could even look at the vintage photographs that he was selling. I was part of the lucky few allowed to get near. I bought some amazing vintage photos for €20.

Yes, all of this was for sale.

Leaving the Fiumicino Airport (again) after a missed flight

La strada: compilation of shots while roaming the streets of Roma

Piazza Venezia

I love the look of this man. I love and hate this McDonald's sign but then again, it is the very spirit of Roma that I love: the clash of the ancient with the modern.

Behind the Pantheon

Piazza Navona

And now, my absolutely favorite photo of Roma. It symbolizes all that I love about Roman culture and its inhabitants. If I think one photo I took can portray the spirit of Roma the way I see it, this one would be it.

Manco Roma...ma presto bellissima, siamo insieme.

Italia: Castelfranco di Sopra, Siena, and Firenze

2010-02-22T19:09:00.000-08:00

Ok, so if you think it's bad that I only took a few photos in Amsterdam, you are going to be disappointed with the results in these three beautiful cities. Castelfranco di Sopra was not exactly the village I was staying in while I was in Toscana but it was pretty darn close. I have to say that the countryside in Italy was absolutely relaxing and the village of Castelfranco di Sopra was exactly was I always imagined a tiny Italian village to be like. Thank you to my friend Andrea, who allowed me to stay at his vacation rental there. I loved exploring this provincial landscape and it was a great opportunity for me to speak Italian because no one in this village knew how to speak English (at least who I spoke to).

Lucky for me, Andrea was my tour guide in Siena and Firenze. In Siena, I learned a little about its history and the famous horse races that take place each summer. When we got there it was night time and I didn't have a tripod :( but I still think you can see the beauty of the architecture of Piazza del Campo. In Firenze (Florence to us in the English speaking world), I visited the Uffizi which has some the most famous Italian Medieval, Renaissance, and Baroque pieces. I got to see my favorite paintings, Primavera and The Birth of Venus, from my favorite Renaissance painter Sandro Botticelli. I also visited Galleria dell'Accademia where I finally saw the real statue of David by Michelangelo. Yes, Firenze is filled with art! I finally got to see all those infamous works of art that I have learned about in my art history courses.

Unfortunately, I didn't get to see everything I wanted to see but I figure it's ok because something tells me that it will certainly not be the last time I am in Toscana. I hope you enjoy the few photos I have of this beautiful region.

I love these random religious figurines located along the road.

An old abandoned elementary school building

Piazza del Campo

Andrea

Firenze

I thought this was so cute and I had to photograph it. It says, "Genio, I really hope that one day I can show you this dedication...and we can laugh about it...together."

Amsterdam, The Netherlands

2010-02-18T12:32:00.000-08:00

Oh bad, bad, bad Mariana! I did not take as many photos as I wanted to...I want to list my excuses here but there really are none. My problem in Europe is that it was my first time there and though the natural tourist wants to snap every possible photo they can take, as a photographer naturally I am first an observer. How can I take it all in if I am behind my camera? There is so much to see and do, there was no possible way I could capture it all on lens.
Amsterdam was beautiful but super cold! I don't think this California girl was quite prepared for a winter wonderland like this especially being in warm tropical Nicaragua only three days prior.
I saw many interesting things, such as the infamous Red Light District which I found to be fun and curious being that you can't see anything 'round these parts. There is also a lot of art in Amsterdam. I visited many museums, including the Van Gogh Museum, The Anne Frank House, and Rijksmuseum...I also went to Den Haag to a museum there (oops don't remember the name**just informed it is Gemeentemuseum) with my dear friend John who was also my lovely host.
I have to admit that I am really looking forward to going again but hopefully when it's just a tad bit warmer!
So without further ado, Amsterdam...proost!

Granada, Nicaragua

2010-02-18T11:33:00.000-08:00

Granada has a long and interesting history in Nicaragua. It is one of the oldest cities in Central America, created during Spain's colonial period. This is beyond apparent in the architecture of the city and though not always 100% preserved it is certainly beautiful because it really gives you a feeling of the passage of time.

More Ometepe

2010-02-18T11:10:00.000-08:00

The last day on the island of Ometepe consisted of visiting Ojo de Agua, which is a quaint location where one can bath in natural spring mineral water (got that?). Anyway, it's a beautiful location and as you can see, the water is crystal clear!

Mission District, San Francisco

2010-02-11T15:49:00.000-08:00

Sometimes smalls escapes are necessary to help with the dealings of the "post travel blues". I am having a serious case of wanderlust and it must be satisfied somehow. San Francisco is my spot to go, it's got a little bit of everything and it's far enough that I have to pack an overnight bag (well, I like to think so). These are some photos I shot today. Don't worry, I will post more photos from my Europe trip soon!

Ometepe, Nicaragua Part 1

2010-02-05T08:09:00.000-08:00

Do you want to see the Garden of Eden? Well, I officially have located it on the island of Ometepe located in the large fresh water lake of Lake Nicaragua. I don't think I have ever seen so much vegetation and natural beauty in my life. Technically, Ometepe is composed of two volcanoes, Concepción and Madera, which feels like two islands but really it's just one. I discovered petroglyphs and went to Ojo de Agua (which I will show in Part 2). Anyway, I will let the photos show you the beauty...

The view from the shore of Rivas

The dock on the island

The ferry we rode on

The busses to take you around the island (we had a truck we brought on the ferry).

My Tio David hold a parrot at the restaurant we ate at.

My Tio Daniel and my Dad holding parrots.

One of the many small churches located on the island.

Concepción

The room we stayed in that night.

Yasmin

On the shore...this lake has small waves.

Concepción again.

Maderas hiding behind a cloud

Running!

Yasmin and my niece Anita running!

Concepción once more

Sunset

My uncles and fathers watching some boys play soccer on the beach.

Yes, I am the nerd that did that...

See what I mean? Wouldn't you agree that Ometepe is the Garden of Eden?

Masachapa, Nicaragua

2010-02-04T14:25:00.000-08:00

There is nothing like spending a few days by the beach. My family and I rented a beach house with five bedrooms for three days in Masachapa. It is an adorable little beach town that survives solely on the local fisherman. It was probably the most relaxing three days that I had had in a very long time. I spent hours just on the beach or in the ocean bodysurfing. I met a lot of interesting people while there and I will give little captions about them below their photo.

This is where I sat to view the Pacific Ocean when I didn't want to be in the sun anymore.

My father

These are guys that I met as I was walking along the beach. The guy with the pink shirt, Marco, is a local and he was interested in who I was and what I was doing there. Turns out, he spoke a little English and was having fun speaking to me in English instead of Spanish.

This is the busy beach during the early mornings to sell the fish caught very early morning.

This man was the guard of the watchtower I took this photo from. We had an excellent conversation about the environment and socialism (Nicaragua is a socialist country).

The amazing view from the watchtower.

Fried fish bought from the beach that morning.

A marimba band we hired to play music for us for an hour!

I love his passion!

The men in blue...look at these very serious poses.

Tipitapa, Nicaragua

2010-02-03T22:54:00.000-08:00

These are my first photos of my trip to Nicaragua. One of the first places I went to (aside from residing in the capital city, Managua, with my family) is Tipitapa, a relatively small city not far from the capital. Specifically, I went to the natural hot springs located there. It is a quaint location with plenty of vegetation and a "steam" room produced by the hot springs below. It was a nice and relaxing day and merely the beginning of my adventure...

The changing rooms

This is the view

My tia in the "steam" room

Thoughts on a flight back

2010-01-29T07:24:00.000-08:00

Thank goodness for laptops right now, otherwise this twenty-two hour flight would be beyond boring. Right now, I have all this energy still surging through me and the only solution I have is to savor all my memories and my emotions is by writing them. I can’t tell a chronological story about my travel in Roma. There is so much to tell and so many adventures that I am going to have to limit them to only a few, otherwise I think I could write a short novel on it. But since it is impossible for me to follow chronology, I’m going to make this blog somewhat like a Fellini’s “Roma” and in that same spirit, I am a little like Roma itself. There will not be a storyline to follow and the photos, I will add to a later blog. This is the nature of Roma, beautifully ordered chaos.

There’s no place like ~~home~~…Rome. Amo Roma!

Oh my gosh, I am in love. No, it’s not a prepubescent infatuation with the latest all male pop-star group, my love for Roma is deep and profound. Of course, I don’t think I am the only person that had ever felt this way after visiting Roma for the first time but nonetheless I feel like Roma is my greatest lover. I think it is impossible not to fall in love with Roma, the landscape, the art, and its people are all part of its charm…oh and don’t let me fail to mention the delicious food (anche amo gnocchi allora). Roma is a city of diversity, its inhabitants are from all sorts of different places of the world and walks of life, each one taking their chance and adventure in Roma. Some go to that go to Roma to live like a Roman at least for a little while and some have made Roma their permanent home thus entering that fortunate circle of being called Roman.

When in Roma…

Romans are one of a kind people—seriously I have no complaints what so ever. They have a fusion of a laid back, careless style of if you don’t like it fanc*lo and yet, they are thoughtful and wonderful hosts to tourists. Rules are illusions and time is an abstract concept that people sometimes choose to follow. There are words and phrases that are fairly overused and rarely backed up by any truly substantial evidence. Everyone promises to provide you something subito (meaning fast/immediately) but one is never really sure if subito will happen and sometimes I wonder if it is said simply out of sheer habit because in the end Romans follow their own time. And Italian men are very good for the self-esteem, carelessly complimenting you as you walk by saying, “Ciao Bella!” (“Hello Beautiful!”) and when they stop to talk to you, they make you think you’re the most amazing woman in the world. It’s no wonder Italian males are known as Latin Lovers.

Roma is a beautifully ordered chaos—I really don’t know how else to really describe it. How they manage to be passionate and chaotic while still organized, is truly an enigma to me. Yet, it all works in this beautifully orchestrated symphony that only Romans know how to follow by heart.

Most Italians were always happy and helpful when I spoke Italian. Most thought I was a Spanish tourist (you know from Spain) but others asked if I was American. I suppose my accent in Italian must be a mixture of the two. The most interesting and amusing to me is when I told people where I was from I always got the same reaction, “Oooooh California!” with hands thrown back and eyes facing upward. After the physical reaction, came the comment that they wanted to go to California and asked me if I love it, to which I responded to with, “Si, California è bellissima!” (Yes, California is beautiful). I am glad that I’m not from a boring state like Nebraska and that being a California girl made me quite popular. I tried investigating why and from what I gathered it’s a combination of myth and new world glamour that causes the California adoration.

Sigh. I really feel like I became a part of Roma and a part of me didn’t want to leave but I have to admit that I miss my daughter, family, and friends so much. I want to convince myself that the charm of Roma is that I am not from or live in Roma but I discovered that Romans feel the same way about Roma that I do. Romans love Roma. Italians love Italy! And why not? It’s absolutely amazing. There is an energy that is incomparable and I had never felt anywhere else. Let me paint you a scenario: it is a Saturday night, you went out to dinner with some new Roman friends and maybe had a little too much wine. Then they decide it is too early to go home and as customary it is necessary to have some caffè (what Americans call espresso) as you leave the bar with a couple of beers porta via, you turn the corner there is the Colosseo, huge and brightly lit against a starry night. You and your friends decide that it’s cold but it would be great to sit outside and have a beer on a bench in front of the Colosseo. Yeah, even in the cold being able to do that is really quite outstanding--outstanding that a single street separates the modern life of Italy and can transport you to antiquity.

Mamma mia, Michelangelo!

Ok, this may sound a little cliché but every cliché stems from some sort of truth. I truly had a spiritual experience while in the La Cappella Sistina. Michelangelo was more than I ever could have imagined and I already had high expectations. I cannot give words to the feeling and there is possibly no image and no words that could adequately portray the experience, it is something that must be lived. Honestly, if I only traveled to Roma to see the La Cappella Sistina, I think I would be satisfied. As I saw it, the colors and shapes seduced my eyes. My irises must have been dilated in the absolute intoxication of the dopamine and serotonin circulating through my body. I probably would have had Stendhal Syndrome if I hadn’t been trying to be so aware not to have it. But another part of the Sistine Chapel that was very special, was the opportunity to look at others relish in Michelangelo. I saw their faces and I could see that utter fascination and awe with it. I wish photography were allowed in there because I would have loved to capture people’s reaction. There was even a teenage girl that went to tears, yes, I felt her energy. As an art lover myself, I felt all the energy and passion of Michelangelo. Even an atheist could not avoid feeling a spiritual experience there. Michelangelo was certainly a divine creature.

I saw a lot of art in Roma. I saw Ancient art, Roman art, Renaissance art, Modern art, local art…should I go on? I was inundated with art. It is an art historian’s dream to be in all of the museums. I wish I had more money and time to go to all of them. I guess this just means I have to return…

La mia dolce vita

Ok, I am almost a little embarrassed to admit how many times I visited La Fontana di Trevi. I think I went a total of four different times because I wanted to capture the different ways light hits the fountain. I went early in the day one day, then late afternoon, and then again when it was nighttime. I suppose for anyone that knows me it’s not really a surprise considering that I have been talking about seeing the Trevi fountain for quite some time and how I joke around saying I would jump into the fountain and reenact Anita Ekberg’s scene at the Trevi fountain in La Dolce Vita. It as so beautiful in person and so right, the little antiquated architecture surrounding it. I loved it so much and I threw in two coins. I was unaware of this at the time that I did it but apparently throwing in two coins not only ensures a certain return to Roma but it also guarantees meeting true love. Hehehe, we will see about that one!

If you have made it this far in my rambling about Roma, I commend you because I have no idea if any of this makes any sense to anyone except me. I have so many tales to tell of this trip but I am afraid I am not quite the best writer and that I can’t tell the concise story with the best details. I don’t want to bore anyone so just a brief little story about my departure and I will end this blog that I have spent writing on and off during this incredibly boring flight that only makes me wish I never had to leave.

Tuesday January 26, 2010 at 9:45 A.M. was my original departure date and time. The morning started off a bit bad. It was the hostel manager’s knocking at my door that woke me up and I immediately fell into a panic because at that moment I knew that my alarm hadn’t gone off and it was certainly late. I look at the clock at it is 8 A.M. I yelled profanities into the air and told the manager to wait. I step onto the ground and my socks got soaked in water, yes, my room was flooded with water. I get dressed the fastest I ever have in my life and miserably picked up my wet belongings from the floor. The manager is trying to get an explanation out of me and I say I have no idea what happened (in Italian because she doesn’t know English) and I rush out. I run to Termini (basically the central station of Roma where you can get buses, the subway, and/or the train). I make it to Fiumicino very late and missed my flight. As I approach the Continental counter the lady looked at me with pity (I must of looked a absolute mess) and said to me I had to pay the penalty fees. This is when I begin to search for my wallet but where was my wallet? Who knows…the point is now I was stuck in Rome without money and nowhere to go. Lucky for me pity went a long way and airline woman waived my fees. But I was still without a wallet and I check my pockets, I only to find a few crumbled up receipts and €4 to my name. I had no idea what to do so the first thing I did do was order a cappuccino to get my head straight: money remaining €2.70.

“At least I have my passport,” I said to myself out loud as I drank my cappuccino and thought through plans of what I could do. My best idea was to call my really good friend in Amsterdam because well, to be honest, he always has really good ideas. So I go to the pay phone and I try to make a call, I stick in €1 (money remaining: €1.70) and dial the number and I got an error message. I hung up the phone thinking the machine will return my money, nope that didn’t happen. At this point I’m thinking that I was stupid for having a cappuccino. I sit a little longer contemplating and knew the only way I could resolve anything was if I got an internet connection.

Nothing in this world is free and life is filled with “NO” when you don’t have money or a credit card but I did receive compassion and I got internet connection so I began to mobilize myself and found solutions to my problems. My very good friend in Holland saved my life wiring me money and couchsurfing.org saved me from having to sleep at the airport for two nights. So maybe everything really does happen for a reason because if I hadn’t missed my plane, I would have never met Gaetano and his wonderful friends. Tuesday night was probably the funniest and greatest night I had during my whole trip and I have to thank destiny for it. They were so much fun and the funniest group of people I have ever hung out with and they all made me feel so welcome, as if I had always been part of their circle of friends. It was truly an amazing and great experience that I will always treasure in my life.

Eccola, the watered down version of my Roma vacation and I know it probably doesn’t make much sense but I have had little sleep and it is 1:10 A.M. in Roma and my body is telling me to sleep but I am trying to stay up until I get back to Sacramento. I still have over seven hours until I get to Sacramento but also my battery life is dwindling down and I lost my American wall plug for my computer (geesh, I am constantly losing things) so I can’t charge up when I am in Houston. So with this I say farewell and soon I will write a recap of my other adventures in Italy, Amsterdam, and Nicaragua but for now this is what I needed to write because I am still filled with Roma’s magic.

Ciao e a presto amici!

Frosty

2009-12-19T11:54:00.000-08:00

California, aren't we famous for our lovely weather? I suppose that is true for Southern California but Northern California is another story. Although, this winter is certainly colder than most (as far as I can remember). It even snowed in Sacramento! I didn't get a chance to actually see the snow because it had already melted by the time I woke up but I did get some photos of the frost. So I know these are a little late (they were taken December 9th) but I have been so busy with finals and getting ready for my trips. So these are the last photos I leave you with this year! I won't be updating my blog with photos until the new year.
I hope everyone has a Happy Holiday and New Year!

Click Snap

2009-11-28T18:04:00.000-08:00

So I am sure you are all wondering what are my new artistic endeavors. I haven’t had much time to work on my personal projects but here are a few examples.

I liked this railroad yard. There were a lot of patterns and lines to play with. I really enjoyed the perspective on these...

I am still working on my social commentary series. I am photographing graffiti and words around town. Soon I will have words from abroad and I am really looking forward to that. It will have my favorite components of the visual and written language.

My newest project and an evolution of the “My Landscape” series are my abstract body images. Playing on the previous project, I am calling this the “Landscapes”. I want to break down visual illusions of bodies. Not just on a visual level but the interpretation of beauty itself.

Bragging

2009-11-17T21:36:00.000-08:00

I know I am really late for Halloween photos but I just had to show off my daughter. Isn't she just adorable? Sorry, I know I am being such a mom right now but can't help it...she's my love.

The Countdown begins...

2009-11-11T19:34:00.000-08:00

in 59 days, 10 hours, and 26 minutes...I will be leaving for Amsterdam. Oh, the joy!

Becoming a Renaissance man...woman

2009-11-05T19:51:00.000-08:00

No, I'm not quite a draughtsman or much of a scientist for that matter (unless you call my crazy food experiments in the kitchen a scientific inquiry) but I am taking a drawing course to improve my skills. Reason? Well, I think that learning to see the difference in value (the lightness or darkness of color) is a good skill to have in photography.
I may never be as great as Da Vinci or Picasso but it's fun to try anyway.

The Lambda Fall Spectacular at McGeorge School of Law

2009-10-20T10:55:00.000-07:00

This is probably the most fun event I have ever photographed. If you think law school is all about serious and studious students this show would make you think otherwise. In the celebration of "Coming Out Week" McGeorge's own Lambda put together this wonderful show. This program was filled with laughter and great entertainment--Drag Queens, Drag Kings, same-sex ballroom dancers took the stage and our breaths away. This is an event you won't want to miss next year! Bravo to the McGeorge Lambda for putting on such a great show!

And the following are my favorite shots of the night:

Postcards for Sale

2009-10-15T18:43:00.000-07:00

These are the three postcards that I currently have for sale for $1 each. If you are interested in purchasing one (or some!) please send a paypal payment to iamadreamer2@gmail.com and I will send an email confirmation when I send them in an envelope. Thank you!!!

Capitol Artists' Studio Tour Exhibition

2009-09-14T16:47:00.001-07:00

The much anticipated day arrived and for the record, I want to say it was really hard to choose my images and to get everything done in time. I suppose the greatest challenge was to pick from the hundreds of images only ten, that show my versatility without being completely unharmonious when hanging them altogether. Despite this challenge, I think I accomplished my goal and I was still able to show a little but of the different series I am working on. The most exciting part of this event is that I got a lot of positive feedback from my piece, The Painted Lady, hanging at the Center for Contemporary Art, Sacramento. This was highly encouraging!
I had postcards printed of this image so if you are interested in purchasing one for $1 + postage, please contact me.
Thank you for all that came to visit and a special thank you to Abby and Kim--couldn't have done this without you two!

Second Saturday

2009-08-09T15:59:00.000-07:00

Second Saturday, Sacramento's little jewel. It is the opportunity for all of Sacramento to enjoy free live music, art, and sometimes even food. I suppose as an art lover what I appreciate most is the opportunity for local artists to be exposed to the general public--artist which normally would not have the chance to be seen. There are literally over 90 art studios in the Sacramento area and simply not enough time to see them all. I try to visit a variety to get a feel of the local art scene and I have to admit that there are many talented artists in Sacramento.
Although I love visiting the galleries, I have to admit that my favorite part of Second Saturday is the people, they are an explosion of colors and personalities. I am fascinated by interactions and expressions of people. What better opportunity to photograph?

Boxers and Bikes

Java City

Afro-Cuban

Hungry...

Walking traffic

Paying for the bill

I want a scooter

My self-portrait?

Uvas

Reflections

Under the sea

They are Open

Mailbox on 18th

Care for a drink? @ Shady Lady

Protest against CA Supreme Court Decision

2009-05-28T22:37:00.000-07:00

I have always been interested in doing photo-journalistic work--and I hope these images evoke the quality of work that a photojournalist would expect to get from such an event.
I remember always being fascinated by National Geographic, in fact, I still drool over their images in National Geographic and patiently wonder at the ArtStor's photojournalism collection. The images produced by historic events always contain an immense amount of emotion. I love how the photographer is sometimes ignored and at other times engaged with the subject. Some of the most powerful images, in my opinion, is when a single person in the frame is staring directly with at the camera. It feels like the gaze is so penetrating that it reaches beyond the lens and personally touches each viewer of the image.
In this particular case, there was of course an immense amount of emotion both of sadness and hope. I feel that despite the CA Supreme Court's decision spirits were high and I believe the energy of the rally can truly be felt through the images.

I just love the look of the man holding the, "Why are you judging us?" sign.

My adopted little sister

Tina Reynolds, from Equality Action Now.

Californication, Day 2

2009-04-24T14:42:00.000-07:00

On my second day I decided I would go to Point Lobos since I had never been there. I hate to sound like a drag but I wasn't that impressed. Maybe it was the fact that I paid $10 and I expected to see something

absolutely amazing--breathtaking really. Not to downplay the beautiful nature I did see, but there were so many people and the trails were packed that I really didn't feel like I connected with nature as much this day as I had the day before. I did, on the other hand, see a lot of interesting colors and I got some interesting shots.

There were a lot of different colors that I caught on the path. There was interesting color moss growing on the trees that I really wanted to capture on camera. Actually, I wanted to touch it but since I agree with the Girl Scout’s ideology on "Leaving no trace," I stayed on the trail and touched nothing. I can't say I wasn't extremely tempted.

I also saw a lot of interesting people on this hike. First, I saw this guy jogging, no not jogging, running. Why he was running, I'm not really sure but he looked hot, sweaty, and red. I'm going to guess he was exercising but it seemed like an odd place to workout, being that it is a State Forest where you pay $10 to get in. HAHA, can you tell I'm still upset about my $10? Well, I am. Okay, maybe I was expecting a spiritual epiphany again and I tried to make the best of the situation by taking photographs and hiking but I just never got into it. I just kept thinking of that peaceful scene of the day before and nothing was comparing until I had a brilliant idea: to go to the beach again! So I hopped back in my car and head for Carmel's Beach.

By this time it was getting close to 4PM and though the beach was packed due to the warm weather, I found a nice little spot that was secluded and I read. I sat at the beach for two hours and then went to my room to gather up my stuff to get ready for the photo shoot I

had scheduled with the person I was staying with but she never showed up. Slightly dissappointed, I headed towards Asilomar Beach in Pacific Grove and there I

enjoyed the sunset. As I walked around taking pictures, I saw a little girl named Janelle (2 years old) playing in the sand and I wanted to take a picture of her. Of course, I asked her mother and she said it was okay. Janelle just looked so cute in her little dress playing in the sand. This made me think a lot of Yasmin. Next time, I promised myself, I would bring Yasmin. She deserves to enjoy the beach as much as I do.

This is how I spent my last hours in the Monterey Peninsula. I enjoyed the sunset and the beautiful colors created by the reflection of the sky. I am in love with the ocean and I can’t wait to go again…at least, for now, I have photographs of my escape.

Californication, Day 1

2009-04-21T16:50:00.001-07:00

The best place to begin a story, is...well the beginning. And sure, I have a few literary options on how I can tell this story but I am not here to have a discussion of literary styles. Today, I am here to discuss my escape into solitude.

I am small. I am so small.

I don't know how many times that very thought entered my mind as I stared off into the immensity of the ocean. I would close my eyes and I felt the ocean air wrap me tightly in a solitude and at the same time with a the connectedness of the Universe. I am small.

Sometimes I just need to get away and I wanted to go alone, to a place where I could only find myself and that is what indeed happened. I went to the very place I had been trying to avoid for so long--Monterey Bay. Actually, Day 1 consisted of going to Big Sur which is off of Highway 1. Needless to say it is extremely beautiful.
In the solitude of the road, I realized I was very happy driving. I don't think I've been happy driving since I was sixteen years old. I was so alone and there I was confronted with myself, a person I knew and I liked. I never knew the day would come that I would be confident and proud of my accomplishments. Furthermore, I also realized that I much rather be alone than to be in an unhappy situation, which I was for so long.

Honestly, I left Sacramento without much of a plan. I had a place to stay and I packed enough food and clothes for three days, just in case I didn't come back on Sunday as planned. So when I arrived early afternoon Saturday, instead of staying close to Pacific Grove, I decided to keep driving on Highway 1. My initial decision did not include going to Big Sur but I did contemplate the thought briefly because I wanted to see Climbing Poe Tree at the Spirit Garden. Things didn't go as planned. Instead I went to Pfeiffer Beach and stayed there ALL DAY LONG until sunset.

I can't even tell you exactly what I did aside from taking a few pictures and meditating. Wait, let me rephrase this, that is all I did. I went to the beach and I laid there and meditated on the sound of the waves for nearly three hours. Yes, that's right: THREE HOURS, I thought of nothing else but the sound of waves. There was a faint whisper and all I could hear is, We are one and You are small.

The Sunset was creeping onto me and I realized that it was probably not a good idea to be alone on a desolate beach after dark. Therefore I gathered by belonging and walked to my car. Little did I know that waiting for me on Highway 1 was one of the most beautiful scenes in nature that I would ever come to see. A fog was beginning to come in and this created something like an optical illusion. It seemed like the fog was like another ocean in the sky. I want to say that the photographs that I took captured this emotion well but this is a lie. It does not compare to the entire experience of colors and the scent of the fresh oceanic air.

The night would have been perfected had I stayed in Big Sur to watch Climbing Poe Tree but I didn't want to drive back in the darkness of the late night back to Pacific Grove. But like I said the sunset was amazing and I took so many pictures. I want to include them all but they could never justify the evocation of the moment. If I could just describe the feeling...if I could just hand over the peace I felt in that moment I would share it with the world. Now I understand why the Transcendentalists believed in returning to nature. The immensity of nature makes you believe...makes you feel Spiritual.
I know I could this spirituality here at home, in the local nature but I feel that the solitude of this area is so incomparable. Besides there is no beach, close to home, that compares.
In any case, I felt so good and lucky that I had the opportunity to go to Big Sur for the first time in my life. This was a perfect day, despite the four hours I spent in the car and anyone that knows me, knows that I can barely stand fifteen minutes in the car let alone driving. Yes, it was a good day...

The Love of my Life

2009-04-14T00:02:00.000-07:00

I am in love with the most amazing human being on this planet. I am enthralled by all of her inner beauty and outer beauty. Every moment with her is filled with laughter and when she is away, her absence hangs heavily in the air. Despite all this love, sometimes I wonder how it is that I came to love her like this...I suppose a part of me can't really help it, I mean after all, we do share twenty-three chromosomes. But maybe what I find truly amazing is her sweet disposition and her fun personality. All I really know though is if there is one person in the world I cannot live without, it would certainly have to be her--hands down.
Yeah, I know what you're thinking, "Of course you love her! You're her mother!"
But is that one hundred percent true? Is there some kind of rule booking stating that is so? Because if there is please hand those books out to the countless of abusive and useless parents in this world. But back to my point, I do love her because she is my offspring but I feel like I love her more because of all the beautiful things she has taught me and her strategies with coping with "troubles". Yasmin truly lives the live of the uncarved block (please refer to Taoism for this reference) and she is simply one of the sweetest people you'll ever know. One morning I remember I looked in the mirror and I felt the reflection looking back was quite frieghtening when Yasmin walks in to use the potty and turns to me saying, "Mimi (her nickname for me), you look so beautiful. Your heart is like an angel." I turned to her smiling and I said, "Yasi, you are an angel." I know, it's a sappy love story but I can't help it, she is my angel. Yasmin has saved my life in so many ways and continues to do so daily.
With all this said, she is the main subject of my personal photographs. I have probably taken thousands of pictures of her and I am never tired of it. She is theatrical, goofy, and fun in front of the camera. Sometimes she even grabs my camera and asks me if I plan on photographing her soon but today I grabbed my camera and as I played with her toes, I wanted to capture all the joy she brings into my life. This is my visual ode to Yasmin.

Doodling my life away

2009-04-10T16:30:00.000-07:00

Lately I've reached an artist block. I suppose it is something like a writer's block but this particular block is truncating all of my visual art efforts. My muses have abandoned me so instead I have found a different creative outlet.
Now-a-days, with all this "free" time that I now I have, I find that the most creative thing I can do is ride my bike. I've been taking 27 to 40 mile bike rides. During these bike rides I spend hours in meditation where I go from every range of emotion from happiness to sadness to anger and back. Sometimes I am just riding along enjoying the sun and the nature surrounding the American River bike trail. Lake Natomas is actually very beautiful and I really enjoy sitting on the river bank taking a break and attempt to do some drawing. I try to just doodle to get my creative juices going but lately nothing is sparking my imagination. So after a few drawings like these I just enjoy the scene of the lake for a little longer and then hop right back onto my bike.

Muses, where have you disappeared to?

I feel like there is so much inside of me that could be used to inspire, yet I feel dry. I have always been interested in the interplay of words and visual art so I started doodling today in my journal and I came up with a semi-poem and color piece but even this is blah.
All of this non-inspiration inspired me to rearrange my room to hopefully improve the Zen of my creative space. I have to say that it is looking good right now though I am not finished. I still need to clean up some stuff lying around and build my new art table, which I bought over two months ago by-the-way. Hopefully these changes will revitalize my visual art and bring a surge of creativity my way. One can only hope...

My attempt at a Haiku

2009-03-22T13:57:00.000-07:00

Floating orange leaf

fragile little universe

together we dream.

-March 3, 2009

I am currently taking a Poetry Seminar and one of the assignments was to write a Haiku. I have to say I never knew that I would like writing them. Haikus are simple, yet, they can paint the most picturesque images with a few words.

I know I have been negligent to my blog but I promise there will be much more to share very soon! I now have more time to dedicate to art so I will be posting my work as I go along.

Hello...

2008-12-27T10:16:00.000-08:00

can anybody hear me?