Las dos Marianas

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.

Visions of the Grove...

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...

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?

Amsterdam, The Netherlands

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!

Californication, Day 2

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

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...