Mexico: Parte 1
CDMX to the Sea
To begin at the beginning- my Mexico memories go back so far as to include my brother brand new to the world, and my Great Grandmother, Emma, who lived the final days of her 103 years in Tijuana. Both incredible people, he the freckled apple of my eye, and she the matriarch of such esteem I would have a sculpture of her on my alter. That would be just as I remember her in the 80’s (also her 80’s), in a purple pants suit, her waist-long hair wound into a giant silver bun, boldly taking us into the phosphorescent surf in San Diego, with whom Baja shares the magic of its shore.
Mexico is a place that always felt warm and mystical, from the whale’s tale glimpsed from our tiny sailboat to the bats I couldn’t see but felt through their soft wings and silent calls thumping on the pitch black night. Mexico is memories of sweets so sweet I didn’t want to come back to the US without a stash of Zucaritas. And the stash of requisite miniatures, foretelling a love of teeny, beautiful, hand-made things– the itty bitty Talavera tea sets, baskets small enough to perfectly hold a pebble, a shell and a jumping bean. I coveted these treasures and still have some of them, fondly stashed with my baby book and other histories in my mom’s loft-style live-in warehouse, the famed 301 (definitely more on her later).
Sweet nostalgia of then, and onwards to now… can you tell I love this mystical land, variegated with desert and mountains, seas and volcanoes, ancient pyramids and cenotes, all the more? Who is not moved by the pink of Barragan, the tumble of wires on a pole in front of the bright fuchsia blooming hibiscus? The collage of red roofs seen from an airplane? The colors are vivid, delicious to the eyes, just as the chiles, jugos and pink-sugar-dusted conchas are to the tongue. And this it to say nothing of the culture, so rich, so kind, so brilliantly layered with Indigenous wisdom and modern architecture, all layers touched by the ingenuity of a people who are inherently creative. The privilege of going to and from this place that is a familiar and familial land is not lost on me. I hope this adoration, this ode to the wonder of Mexico will reach some eyes that are happily reminded of the greatness and dignity there, and to someone who knows it only by what is portrayed on the other side.
In this present moment, Mexico City is home to a world class art and design scene and host to some of the most incredible fairs too. I feel this is well worth broadcasting. Zona Maco is the best known, and boasts some incredible local and regional galleries and artists among the array of international ones. I found so many moving works there on a midday wander with my friend John Sharp. Here are a few:
Beyond the big, there are many amazing small shows - from the renowned MASA Galleria, which is in a league all its own, to the Galleria Mascota and even into the private gardens which become oases for art, gatherings and sheer awe at how a city so dense can also harbor a Jardin Secreto with trees taller than some buildings.
Jardin + Masa Moments:
The frenzy of the incoming artists, collectors and visitors aside, there are many tranquil times to be had–quiet walks in Roma Norte, admiring the mash up of architectural styles, cafes and baked goods to make Paris envious, jitomates (tomatoes) so red you feel you are taking a bite of life itself. I could go on and on. But I will just show you more photos instead:
Given any chance, I will gladly go again, and I hope you would do too. I feel hopeful that this year ahead will be a time to revisit the dialog and the perspective on cultural differences, which show contrast and invite reflection, and similarities, which remind us lines on maps are drawn by a human hand, not by the wild things that traverse this land with maps scribed into collective memory.
I hope the wildness in my will bring me there many more times– and to the deeply spiritual, ever more tranquil, stone streets of Oaxaca city as well. Much more on that connection later.
XxA