After a 14 hour bus ride I arrived in Mexico city. I’ve found myself the only gringo around for the past few days and its almost like i’m losing my english…. a great calm is spreading over me. The bus system here is wonderful if you know where you are and where your going….as you can imagine I’ve had no clue where I am and even less where I’m heading… today I headed out to tackle the city anyhow in a last ditch effort to tackle traveling alone… an amazing photographer friend of mine flys in tomorrow to share in the journey, there will be better photos with my having my personal photographer along… laugh
In the court yard the plants grow soft against the azul of the walls and you can see how a painter would live life like this. Everywhere I look are the little touches only the creative make, a shell here, a skull there, her painting easel just so, and the never ending re-use of bottles for beads, paints, bits of scripture…Frida is everywhere in this country, like the virgin mary, ever watchful, ever present, ever silent… but shes very much alive here in her house, speaking from every corner, her passion and her love and her longing somewhat raw and overwhelming
On the way here I got caught half in-half out of the subway door… startled i began laughing when i flashed to a memory from my childhood, my mother getting separated from us on an italian light rail… many past events have been finding there way into my memories during my solo travels… i’m beginning to realize how special my childhood really was. I’m experiencing a big “travelers shift¨on this sweet little artist sabbatical.
Ive realized on the road that every day can be viewed as a series of small successes. Finding a needle, finding the launders, feeding oneself… It all takes enormous effort and as frustrating as it could be, i found the opportunity to congratulate myself every time i accomplish one of the thousands of menial things it takes to make a day… perhaps as in life this could be applied to the process of creating art.