Poety

I don't know where to begin tonight.
Writing has always be an emotional outlet for me.
My thoughts spill out on paper, spiraling into the corners of...spaces untouched.
Art.
What would the visual art be without the written...without the words that allow us to feast upon it and devour its intention.
The pyramids, scalped with serpents, reminds me of dragons...or is there a scientific answer to their mastic creatures, Gods.
Maybe they were finding the great remains of dinosaurs and interpreting their remains.
My mind is so tired, spinning in circles about an essay exam I have tomorrow.
There is a fight inside me, pulling me in all directions.
Do I write...or do I continue to prepare until I've answered every possible question that might be asked, demanding my precise answer.
write...exam...write...exam
Its not a hard decision, but it is so sad to leave my writing and continue my preparation for tomorrows exam.

Mastering the Art of Being a Student

I know I'm not the only one who wasn't able to access the quiz tonight. Yet I felt concerned and frantic when I tried to log on and take the quiz and it wasn't available. We shall see what happens tomorrow. For those that did complete the quiz early and not wait until the last moment, I envy you. I'm normally really good at getting things done early, but I've been supper busy with my other 15 units, my daughter, my fiance, work and well life, that lately that I feel like I have been rushing to get everything done. I wonder if others feel the same way. For those that attend class on campus as well as online, what do you find easier? I graduate in the spring and by now I should have mastered the art of being a student, yet each semester I find a new challenge, a part of me that needs improvement, that needs to change in order to enhance my future.

Change for the Future!!!

Wow!

On election day I drove to a polling place near my apartment and dropped off my absentee ballot.

From 3:30 to 10:00 pm I was fixated to the news, flipping back and forth between different stations to hear what different commentators were saying. Most astonishing were the live feed comments from McCain supporters, announcing that we now have a terrorist in the white house. It is amazing what people will believe. Even if Obama is a Muslim, which there are no facts to support, Muslim does not equal terrorist. Since September 11, 2001 the media has projected this false image onto Americans that people from middle eastern decent should be feared. This is the same thing that happens in the past, with world war one and Japanese Americans being forced into containment camps. You would think that we would learn from our past as a nation and try not to regress, but America is still a young nation and it seems to need to be continually reminded through the same hard lessons before as a collective we demand change. Electing Obama, the first African-American Male to hold office as chief executive officer is a monumental notion of progress. African-Americans weren't secured the right to vote in all states in the United States until the 1960's movements demand for equality. I am both cautious and excited. I know Obama cannot undo all that havoc that has been strategically imposed on America in the four short years of a single term but I do believe he is a sign that people want change. I cried when Obama exceeded the 270 electoral votes needed to win the election. It is now time for grass roots organizations to step up and push policy makers to create new legislation that serves the people. It is up to all Americans to fight for change, to fight for public policy, to fight for social welfare. I wasn't sure that I would live to see the day an African-American would take control of the white house, but I am forever grateful to have been a part of this historic moment. As the expectant mother of a bi-racial (white/African-American) child I am excited for the implications of the future.

past and future

November 1st was the first day of the priority filing date to apply for admissions at the University of California, Santa Cruz. I have spent this entire last week working the the grueling process of writing a personal statement that will make me stand out from all the other applicants and put me in the front running for scholarship consideration. As I wrote I was often brought to tears by the remembrance of the difficult and emotional experiences I have overcome. I began to reflect on the importance of our history. On the deep implications our past can have on our futures. I am often reminded at how far I have traveled when I have contact with old friends. In my mind I travel back through time and explore the memories of our interactions. Most of the individuals I grew up with are incarcerated in some form and those that aren't, those that still claim freedom, are trapped in the self oppressive life style of selling drugs and the government imposed condition of the "War on Drugs". Prior to begin my studies at WVC I spent an entire year in a women's correctional "rehabilitation" facility on a conviction for sales of crack cocaine. As a first generation college student, and the prospects of graduating becoming more of a reality each semester, I look forward to walking across the stage in May of '09 and accepting my Women's Studies, AA. I don't know how exactly I will feel in that moment, how Proud and excited I will be. I do know that I will be just one, one individual that was able to escape the cruel reality of poverty. I will be just one former foster child that made it into college and graduated.
Our history, even if dark and ugly like mine, has rich implications for future potential.

I'll let you all know if I get accepted into UCSC.

Imagine

Each week I read, listen, and see (pictures, sculptures, architecture) of the many great wonders of Mesoamerica. I am in awe of the magnificence of the Teotihuacan site. The murals are just beautiful. The pyramids are amazing. The size of these massive structures and there implication of societal importance of beliefs and practice stands out to me. I would love to time travel and view the significance of these structures to the inhabitants of Teotihuacan. I can imagine standing at the top of the Sun Pyramid and peering out at the landscape. What is the claimant like? I imagine a tropical plush forest, rich soil, the sun standing over the massive city.

embarking on the journey

This is my first online class. I've enrolled in others but always drop them. I really like reading other classmates blogs. It helps reunite the connection that we are all embarking on this journey of both historical understanding and the influence of art as a form of expression throughout time and it's implications on examining culture. I enjoy the insight provided by others which normally is lacking from online courses.

My favorite art form of art is photography (maybe that's because my dad was a professional photographer). I enjoy all the pictures in the text. It really helps make the subject come to life. The reading is a different story. I can never read the assigned reading just once. I feel like I miss so much the first time I go through it, it isn't until the second and sometimes third that I really start to paint an image in my mind.

impressions of a five year old

When I went to the Frida's exhibit I brought along my mother-in-law and my five year old daughter. Aside from my own interest in Frida's work and perceptions I was amazed at the comments my five year old made. She was purely honest which is a quality that children posses until they are jaded by the intrusion of the worlds opinions. She was curious of the implications of death in Frida's paintings. She loved the animals, the birds and monkeys. On the way out of the exhibit we stoped and bought a kit which allows you to color Frida's paintings. My five year old has colored every picture and continues to ask for more. She is my little artist and I think that she was inspired by Frida's work. Even as such a young child she spends every waking moment we are at home drawling, painting, coloring, and writing. I wonder what she will decide to be when she grows up?

A Parallel Between Egypt and Mesoamerica

In this weeks reading assignments we have focused on the great city of Teotihuacan--located in the Valley of Mexico. Teotihuacan meaning "the place of the gods" according to Rene Millon would have been the sixth largest city in the world in AD 550, with population estimates of 125,000 thousand people. The photograph shown of page 72-73 (Miller 4th ed.) of an isometric view of Teotihuacan shows just how massive these city was. The Pyramid of the Moon to the north, the Pyramid of the Sun also north, then the Way of the Dead and south Ciudadela and the Temple of the Feathered Serpent.

It is interesting to me that we call these people primitive. Their architectural design skills are most intriguing. How is it that such massive structures could be built? today we use cranes, trucks and tractors, massive man power and of course modern tools and technology to create massive high-rise buildings, bridges, and other structures. Yet these relatively small people were able to create whole metropolitan cities without the help of modern technology.

As I study history I always think back to the biblical stories found in the Kings James version of the bible. I'm not a religious person but I do believe the bible is a historical book documentation individuals accounts of history.

I imagine that the pre-Hispanic inhabitants of Mexico are descended from Africa. This explains to me the connection between the great pyramids of Egypt and those of mesoamerica. There is a correlation between the religious practices of Egyptian and Greek mythology and that of mesoamerican religious practices. The mummification of bodies and the importance of the under world, tombs and the artifacts found in them representing the belief of an after life and the sacrificial ceremonies to the gods.

I see in Frida Kahlo's art the influence of

Mesoamerica and her heritage.

The importance of the animals and the

symbolism of the vine with its thorns piercing

into her neck. I can imagine how trapped

she feels, how restricted and confined.

Her art gives a voice to all those feelings,

the dark unspoken ones that reside in all

of us.

Mosaic Mask

In the lecture this week we looked at La Venta and pieces of art that had been discovered there. One such art form is shown on page 31 (in the 4th ed.) of the Miller text. It is suppose to be an abstract mosaic mask made of serpentine blocks. It is a beautiful piece of work but I don't understand how it's considered a mask. I see nothing but blocks organized in rows and columns to make up a design. Maybe I am not looking hard enough, maybe I am missing something but I don't really understand the point of making a piece of art and then covering it up with clay and rocks. I wonder what the artist was thinking. Was this a ritual practice?

My perception of "Mexico".

When I began contemplating what I think of Mexico the first thing that came to mind was the depiction of factory workers; men, women and children suffering in the underpaid, mostly under U.S. companies, work force while the company maximizes it profits. I began thinking of the working conditions that these workers face and the harsh reality, that as long as corporations can operate in free trade zones; in countries that encourage and welcome big corporations (do to the revenues they bring) into the country, and do not enforce an equal employment act which provides workers with vital rights under that law and protection against mistreatment, nothing will change...

The following is a URL of a website that provides more information about sweatshops in Mexico: http://www.newint.org/easier-english/Garment/sweatmexico.html (copy and paste).

The next thought that came to mind was the splash of Cancun, Mexico. A place you can go to let loose, stay in luxury hotels on the white sandy beaches and eat authentic Mexican food while you sip on margaritas. All while the locals work in the service industry which provides this luxurious get away. And the ruins of the agent cities of the indigenous people become a tourist attractions

http://www.cancuncd.com/m_cancun_pictures/

I remember as a child traveling into Taiwan, Mexico. The dirt road stirring up dust and the children chasing our car with bead necklaces, small maracas and other trinkets they held, grasped in their hands, hoping we will stop and buy these goods they sell. The area was dirty and trash just lay scattered on the ground. The buildings weren't much more then plywood boards nailed together and sewage ran in the street. As a child this image resonated in my mind. I remember feeling the sadness and confusion of not understanding why they lived in such poor conditions. What I didn't understand then was that Taiwan is one of the poorest places in Mexico and that not all of Mexico lives in such an unimaginable environment.

My step-father having Mexican Heritage, it wasn't uncommon for my parents to hire Mexican men who stood on the sidewalk along the street in front of San Lorenzo Lumber in Santa Cruz, Ca. I watched these men work in my back yard my family along side and eat at my families table. My step-father spoke to them in Spanish, a language I do not know, and though he never said anything derogatory or resist, I knew that there was a difference between my step-father and these men who labored long and hard to earn the mere 9 dollars an hour my parents paid them.

My reality quickly changed when I entered the foster care system and many of the other youth the occupied the foster homes and group homes were Mexican Americas. Many of them had family members who migrated to the U.S illegally in order to find work and send money home to help support family still in Mexico. They told stories of poverty, something we hear about in media, but they gave this problem a face and voice. Now when I think about Mexico I think of a country that's people are largely supported by the money that migrant workers send home. I imagine the girls and boys that live with relatives while both their parents are away, working for their survival. When I think of Mexicans' I think of a strong and proud people that have lived through such adversity and yet remain unbroken, striving for a better future.

The Art of Being Me

THE ART OF BEING ME is captured in all the brilliance and wonder that is my daughter. It is her that allows me to see what I excel at and often times my weaknesses. She is a mirror to me and reflect through her eyes her happiness, her sadness, her worries, her hopes, her struggles, and her triumphs.

The art of being me is being dearing, being willing to step out of my comfort zone and let it all hang out. It's being brave enough to let the world see what i'm really made of, even when I just wake up. The art of being me is sometimes contradictory and it's putting on a mask of outer layers (clothing) to cover up how i'm really feeling inside

The art of being me is centered in my exploration of self. Sometimes even i can scare me and like with any great animal the instinct for flight is strong. As a child i always dreamed of being a bird, a bird could fly away and escape the danger, the threat and fear i faced every day.

The art of being me often happens in the kitchen. This is the place I create my magic. As you would add ingredients together to make a spectacular dish, life is much the same way, yet instead it is where i try on the qualities i see in others and see if they fit right. My recipes do include cook but often they are recipes of qualities: a cup of my mom, maybe 1/2 of my dad, a heaping 3 cups of my special aunt Carrie who knows just how to cheer me up when life is crazy and full of messes and a 1/3 of my grandma who taught me that learning is forever (one of the only things we still have when we die) and a pinch or 1 tablespoon of my grandfather who always taught me to fight for what I believe in. We are all recipes, little bits of others are backed into our crust.

The art of being me is that i am forever changing and yet even in the instability of change i remain, some how, sturdy. Strong in my convictions i stand tall like an old villa home. Wise from experiences and yet still full of learning. My walls stay the same, and my foundation never quivers yet i enjoy a new coat of paint on my walls and a fresh set of eyes to comment on my frames.