Wyoming Diversion

Last month, I was in Southern Wyoming for a couple of days. Besides the usual Wyoming oddities like a grocery store with dozens of mounted heads, skins, and entire preserved wildlife corpses, I was struck by the general state of decay in the small towns. There is evidence that there was once prosperity, and I imagined that some of these places were once inviting and pleasant for the residents and those passing through. Now it is just depressing, and there is an air desperation, or perhaps resignation about the towns. Is this going on across the entire country? It looks like third world status is upon us...

  

I started a new painting a few days ago from the collection of photographs gathered during the recent trip to the Mexican central highlands. Today, I applied the final few changes that seemed necessary, and it appears to be complete.

Dos Perros Callajeros - 11X14 Oil on Canvas

There are a few processes that I always need to deal with when I plan and execute a painting. First, there is the selection of a subject. Is it interesting? What are the technical challenges - how much detail is there, and have I ever figured out (or will I figure out) how to render the elements of the scene in paint? How big should it be? Usually, after a preliminary selection of a subject, I sketch it loosely in pencil on a canvas, then look at it for a week or so while I sort out how I plan to render it in paint. Then I need to watch for at least a full day when I can work with no interruptions or distractions, followed by more days with not too many of those.

Than, on the day when I begin to work, there is always a horrible sense of "What am I doing this for? This is likely to end up a waste of time, with a result that is unpresentable - the effort will need to be abandoned as hopeless, the canvas discarded." As the paint goes on, it seems like nothing good will emerge. But then, a few areas begin to emerge as something more than the source photograph. There is a bit of distillation from the reality which has been seen, then captured digitally, then sketched, then rendered with paint. It begins to seem that there might be a worthwhile outcome after all. Occasionally, there are problems that develop along the way that threaten to derail the entire project, but those are usually overcome, with some satisfaction.

Every effort to render a scene in oil on canvas offers a lesson in how to deal with some element of painting. I have no education in painting, but I think for me the path to becoming a better painter lies in just producing more work more frequently. I don't receive instruction well.

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After I returned to Colorado from my Mexican central highlands exploration, I needed to visit the local University arts school to pick up some event tickets. While there, I noticed that the current exhibit in the primary art gallery was a collection of Mexican prints, mainly representing the Taller de Gráfica Popular (Spanish: "People's Graphic Workshop") This artists' collective produced and distributed a large volume of work in a very accessible style that promoted a variety of progressive or revolutionary social causes. Labor and working class issues were addressed, along with impassioned pitches to fight fascism and foreign (often U.S.) exploitation of Mexican and Latin American resources and workers.

I found an online catalog that allows for the browsing of most if not all of these remarkable images.

There are some good articles online discussing this movement and providing additional insight, including this one.




Short YouTube video from a previous exhibition that showcases some examples of this work.

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Well, I have returned home to the various unfolding dystopian stories that define my familiar current home country. I return with a sense that life South of the border is indeed conceivable, and even practical if a bit of a deviation from the familiar.

I did not attempt to blog my visit, as Facebook makes the daily chore of posting a photo-journalistic accounting so very easy, and accessible to many if not all. I intend to go back in subsequent blog entries here and try to touch on all the gyrations of emotion and wonder that swept by from day to day as I arrived, moved about, and departed the central highlands of Mexico over the course of the brief two weeks there.

11X14 oil on canvas - Guanajuato adobe wall

I have already completed the first painting from the collection of images I brought back, of a wall in Guanajuato where the stucco has crumbled to reveal old adobe beneath, with opportunistic plants rooted and thriving. I hesitate to keep painting here, as if I do relocate I will just have more stuff to dispose of or move, but it's one of the few things I take any satisfaction in doing now that I am not working any longer. There are probably a half-dozen more scenes I'd like to paint from this trip.

My expectations about the nature of San Miguel and Guanajuato were largely matched by what I found. However, both seem suitable for at least an extended stay once things are squared away here. I'm now convinced that the climate issues that caused so much doubt about life in Yucatan actually work very much in favor of the Mexican tierras altas. Springtime climate in February! There was a one moment when I was riding in an internet-equipped first-class bus from San Miguel to Guanajuato, when I used my little Android device to check weather in Fort Collins, and saw that it was 12 degrees ("feels like 3 degrees"), while it was in the mid-sixties locally.

My room in San Miguel de Allende

I found San Miguel de Allende so agreeable that I modified the trip plans so I could spend a couple of days with Patrick there, rather than just meet him for the last few days in Guanajuato. We did get to spend time together in both places.

San Miguel is indeed the home of numerous Canadian and U.S. citizens, and some of them have chosen not to assimilate or adopt the social customs of their host country, but it is not difficult to avoid them and experience a more Mexican (and affordable) existence among the 85-90% native local population.  The overpriced Centro area is not a place I would visit frequently if I lived there, just as one who lives in San Francisco spends little time hanging out at Fisherman's Wharf.  Patrick and I were both a little disturbed by the Sun City aspect of all the aging gringos who seem to dominate Centro at times.  There is a dynamic of changing tourism underway, as wealthier families (mostly from Mexico City) and young people from other parts of Mexico pick up the slack as U.S/Canadian types fall victim to the sour Northern economy and narco-violence media hysteria (which is misplaced for now for this tranquil area).  This same reduction in tourism and ex-pat living also is responsible for a reported 20-40% reduction in home prices in the area.  Previously, there was a ridiculous bubble in housing prices that reflected the same faulty economics that afflicted wide swaths in the U.S.

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Sitting down the steps from the Arch to Nowhere
(near the similar Arch to Now Here)

One of my objectives in planning my trip to San Miguel de Allende during this particular time was to meet the artist Anado mentioned in a previous post.  I did go out and spend a full day helping him prepare for the opening of his new gallery complex, and attended the very festive opening.  It's interesting to me that while I anticipated the public event as an opportunity to meet a bunch of people from San Miguel society, once the day arrived I found that I didn't relate much to those in attendance - especially the high-society types.  The time I enjoyed the most was the day before, when I was just working alone and getting to know Anado and his partner of thirty years, Richard.

Anado and Richard

Anado and Richard (an art historian) have been creating their compound a few miles outside of town for about eleven years.  They are interesting and complex fellows.  I also enjoyed the presence of their eight or so assorted sizes and breeds of dogs.  I always try to carry biscuits with me in Mexico, for the hungry street dogs, and they were well received here.

There is a big organic farmers market in San Miguel that I didn't get to attend, but Pat did yesterday (he is still there, following the overlap portion of our travels).  I asked him about prices, but he hadn't made note of any.  Because this was of interest to me, I did a Google search of the subject, and ran across the blog of a couple from New Mexico (previously Colorado) who have remarkably similar interests and history to mine and Pat's.  I posted a question in the comments section there, and got a very interesting response that suggested how very auspicious this new connection actually is.  Sometimes, there seems to be a break in the chaos and disarray, when it seems there is actually an illuminated path that leads away from the thick undergrowth of uncertainty and even despair...

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In a few days, I'll be heading down to the central highlands of Mexico for a look at San Miguel de Allende, and Guanajuato.  With about a week in each location, I hope to return to Colorado with a better sense of whether a life there is practical for me (if even conceivable). 

I expect San Miguel to be a bit over-gringofied with aging wealthier retirees, many of whom have not fully embraced Mexican customs, language, or culture.  A bit precious, like Santa Fe or Carmel perhaps.  There are, however, people there to whom I may relate, including an excentric artist who has created an indulgent compound and exuberant life with his partner of many years.  In fact, I plan to help this artist, Anado, prepare his latest gallery and studio venue for its formal opening a little over a week from now. 

Guanajuato on the other hand I expect to offer little concession to a non-Mexican.  Little English spoken, and few accomodations to our bland homogenized Northern sensibilities.  But there too, I have identified a number of possible like-minded people who I look forward to meeting and learning from.  What led them to choose this life, and how has that worked out for them so far?  I have arranged to stay at a little apartment that is part of a U.S. guy's effort to develop a little eco-farm complex near the center of town.

I am aprehensive about this journey into an unfamiliar area, with some risks to person and property.  I do not travel well, no matter what the location.  But I am going to look for the bright features that might suggest a good alternative to the descent into darkness and dysfunction that is occuring all around us here in the U.S.  While the ugly side of this more Northern American life is getting to be harder all the time to disregard, I am going to try to follow the example of 19th century author and explorer Francis Hopkinson Smith, who in his book A White Umbrella in Mexico said of his extensive exploration and Mexican experiences, "I have delighted my soul with the swaying of the lilies in the sunlight, the rush of the roses crowding over mouldy walls, the broad-leaved palms cooling the shadows, and have wasted none of my precious time searching for the lizard and the mole crawling at their roots."

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Life seemed so grand until it wasn't

Life seemed so grand until it wasn't

I am finally realizing that after all our wandering around the United States, the idea of trying to relocate and find a decent new home is akin to rearranging the proverbial deck chairs on the Titanic.  The chairs might be comfortable, but with the advanced state of disease and continuing deterioration afflicting our national politics, society, and economy (and all the areas that cascade from there), we'd might just be selecting a new viewing spot for an impending catastrophe. 

I'm not a good candidate to try and arrange a 'lifeboat' survivalist encampment.  I want to enjoy some urban amenities - walk or bike to the market, tie into the infrastructure of services, and experience some cultural richness.  I do know a few people who are increasingly self-reliant in the face of anticipated WTSHTF devolution, but that's not for me. Not at this age, and I have little tolerance for the hard work, discomfort, and discipline that way of life demands. 

Many in our country embrace the notion of 'American exceptionalism' to reassure themselves in a way similar to the Mexicans' "Como Mexico no hay dos".  However, I believe the Mexicans include in their statement an implit acknlowledgement of all that is good and bad.  Not the best in every respect, but indeed, there is no other like it.  I find it refreshing that the Mexicans have no illusions about any supposed superiority or moral/political/religious high ground.  They live embracing all that life offers, accepting what is denied, and have a relationship with mortality that rivals that of a highly realized Tibetan Buddhist. Their disdain for all three major political parties can be summed up in a little cajita scene I picked up in Merida some years ago.  

Representing three political parties of Mexico

Our tendency to imagine ourselves in a state of perpetual superiority here will eventually give way to a recognition of the harsh realities that are unfolding around us, and I anticipate a lot of people reacting badly when that occurs.  There remains much to be proud of, but the shame and horror associated with what is being contrived for us by people grasping for or wielding authority is increasingly worrisome.  Reassurances of our great promise and immunity from harsh adversity are ultimately as effective as a little cardboard evergreen air freshener hung in a well-used outhouse.

There is also the matter of diminishing time remaining on the planet for us both.  I have another little cajita that cautions me about obsessive hoarding of assets and delaying potentially expensive iterative life changes.



I hope the upcoming visit to the Mexico central highlands yield a sufficient level of confidence to finally follow through with a long-delayed movement forward.  It seems we have really worn out our welcome here in the North.  And with a mid-day high here in Colorado of about twenty degrees today, and low eighties most days down there, the weather por lo menos should be an improvement...

Mexicans may be skeptical of all things official,
but they are not lacking national pride.

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Going on month three of six of this sort of scene...

We were discussing our situation here this morning - the situation where we are stuck in a place we don't enjoy (especially in winter) and long overdue for attempting to live in Mexico. Over the preceding several years, we have considered relocating elsewhere in the U.S., perhaps establishing a base and then exploring south of the border, but after visiting and considering numerous seemingly pleasant and promising domestic locations and finding no level of commitment to giving any of them a try, it really appears that Mexico will have to be explored first. If that's unsatisfactory longer term, we'll have to return and see what we can come up with.   Of course, there's also Costa Rica and Nicaragua...

Every journey begins with a single step.

I'm headed down soon to spend a week in San Miguel de Allende, followed by a week in Guanajuato. I expect that after my return to Colorado I will be engaged in downsizing and preparing to place the remaining contents of the house in storage in anticipation of finding a rental in either of those two places or Merida, which continues to hold our interest.

I'm going to begin placing more frequent updates here as this situation develops...



Color!  Life!  No Tebow!



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