Showing posts with label Zirahuen. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Zirahuen. Show all posts

Saturday, May 3, 2014

Debra Breckeen's Embroidery Art and The Art of Seeing

It is difficult to imagine the vulnerability that artists must feel about the prospect of showing their work. Art is intensely personal yet, paradoxically, art is somehow only fulfilled when it is shared. The artist's hands and eye create a work expressive of the artist's deepest sensibility and purpose, but art does not exist in a vacuum. Artistic creation is intended to be seen and received, taken in by others.

By completing the circle of communication, it is the viewer's eye that fulfills the artist's purpose and brings artistic work to fruition. To the extent that each viewer is a person with his/her own personal history, communication is complex, fraught with sensibilities and ways of perceiving the world that are almost inevitably different from those of the artist. What each of us 'sees' may be unique to us, yet our view also invariably forms part of the human experiential tapestry.

A novelist observed that her work isn't complete until it is read, but that the experience of publication carries its own risk. For as the work is read and discussed, it takes on a life of its own, a life quite independent of the writer.

This reflection came to mind after attending the opening of an exhibit of the embroidery art of our beloved friend, artist Debra Breckeen, originally from Houston, who now lives in Zirahuen, Michoacán. Titled Eco, the work can be seen until May 4 at the Culture Center in the Former Jesuit School of Pátzcuaro, Michoacán.

Invitation
It is striking that Debra chose to title the exhibit Eco, Echo. Normally, an echo refers to the sound or sounds reflected from a surface back to a listener, as in an echo chamber. But Debra has something else in mind. As a forward to her artist's statement, Debra chose these words of Chicana writer Gloria E. Anzaldúa:


"Caminante, no hay puentes, se hace puentes al andar"
(Pilgrim, there are no bridges, one builds them as one walks)

- Gloria E. Anzaldúa


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Echo
I had no plan....just a dream. 
In 2007 I took the opportunity to realize a long-held dream.....to simplify my life and live in rural Mexico. I retired, liquidated my holdings in Houston, Texas, and moved to Morelia, Michoacán. 
Mexico found me before I found Mexico. There was much to learn…..the language, the culture, the landscape. It took almost a year in Morelia before I found my place in Zirahuen. I am still learning .... 
In transition in Morelia, when I began to doubt my dream, I also began to sew. It began with a stamped pattern of a horse given to me by a friend. I discovered that sewing could be like a prayer, a wish, taking a deep breath. It calmed me and felt like drawing in slow motion. With needle and thread, it was possible to build dimension as well as texture. I could build depth and make a real shadow. Stitching was drawing sculpturally. 
I completed the horse and bought other stamped patterns, but found that I wanted to alter them with my own drawings. Now I sew only from my drawings. I am attracted to the idea of using such domestic materials and methods to make political statements. I make embroideries about the negative effects of NAFTA, genetically-modified crops, the proliferation of industrial food and our judgments about the real and the ideal.

I still have no plan … just a dream.
- Debra Breckeen (April, 2014) 

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Debby has been deeply influenced by David Foster Wallace's incomparable novel Infinite Jest, where Wallace writes:

"You can be shaped, or you can be broken. There is not much in between. Try to learn. Be coachable. Try to learn from everybody, especially those who fail. This is hard. ... How promising you are as a Student of the Game is a function of what you can pay attention to without running away.” 

Wallace might as well be describing Debra Breckeen, whose capacity for paying attention without running away is reflected ... echoed ... in her embroidery art.

At Home in Zirahuen

Light is shed on Debra's art by gaining some familiarity with where she lives. Debra's house is tucked away in a pine forest on a hill above the shores of Lake Zirahuen, which is about 26 kilometers (16 miles) from Pátzcuaro, a Pueblo Mágico about 50 kilometers (33 miles) from Morelia, the state capital of Michoacán.

The road from Pátzcuaro to Zirahuen winds through the spectacular Michoacán countryside, pockmarked by extinct volcanoes. Located on the north side of the Lake, the village of Zirahuen is a popular destination for sports-minded tourists and lovers of the outdoors.

Lake Zirahuen surrounded by Pine Forests
'Bare' Spots on far hillside are newly-planted Avocado Orchards
(Photo: Reed)

Michoacán is in the news these days not only for the violent crime that goes hand-in-glove with obscene sums of money passing to the drug cartels but for the self-defense groups that, in desperation, have risen up to drive out the 'bad guys' from their towns. But there's more to it than that ... much more.

The three of usDebby, Reed and Imoved to the Lake Pátzcuaro area in August of 2008. It was our great good fortune that Debby sought us out at CELEP, the language school where we were all taking classes to improve our Spanish. Our experiences and understanding of Mexican culture have grown more or less in parallel ways.

In line with the deepening of our individual yet complementary cultural awareness, we three have become increasingly cognizant that we live in what might be defined as a cultural verge. In biology the verge is the place where two ecosystems meet. In an earlier post, I wrote:
"In Mexico we seem to find ourselves on a variety of verges practically on a daily basis—traditional and global Mexico, U.S. culture and the many levels of Mexican culture. What is increasingly clear to us is that, in all instances, the verge is precisely the place where known and unknown not only meet, but sometimes collide." 
Living on the verge takes a special adaptive skill and not a small amount of confidence of the kind that Gloria Anzaldúa describes: the confidence that as we walk we somehow create under our feet bridges capable of bearing our weight, giving us the confidence needed to take the next step ... and the next ... and the next.

Debby obliquely refers to it when she writes,
"I still have no plan ... just a dream."
More than once, Debby has mentioned David Foster Wallace's parable of the fish, which he told as part of his Kenyon College Commencement Address:
“Two young fish are swimming along, and they happen to meet an older fish swimming the other way. The older fish nods at them and says, ‘Morning, boys. How’s the water?’ The two young fish swim on for a bit. Then eventually one of them looks over at the other and says, ‘What the hell is water?’ "
Wallace continues:
"... the liberal arts cliché about teaching you how to think is actually shorthand for a much deeper, more serious idea: learning how to think really means learning how to exercise some control over how and what you think. It means being conscious and aware enough to choose what you pay attention to and to choose how you construct meaning from experience.
"It is about the real value of a real education, which has almost nothing to do with knowledge, and everything to do with simple awareness; awareness of what is so real and essential, so hidden in plain sight all around us, all the time, that we have to keep reminding ourselves over and over:
"This is water."


In one form or another, Debra, Reed and I have been having this conversation for about as long as we've known each other. But seeing her work framed and hung drove home recognition that Debra's art is, in large part, about seeing 'what is real and essential, so hidden in plain sight all around us'.


Debra Breckeen (yellow blouse) greets a visitor at her Exhibit of Eco,
Centro Cultural Antiguo Colegio Jesuita, Pátzcuaro, Michoacán
(Photo: Florence Leyra Jeune)

The Artist's Eye

This quality is most apparent in the series of pieces that present everyday objects transformed in ways that Debra describes as "judgments about the real and the ideal."

During our last visit, Debra and Reed got into a spirited discussion about Reed's photography class. The instructor's favorite way of introducing the camera to newcomers is to ask: What is the most important element of taking a picture? The instructor's view'light' is the 'correct' answerbetrays an underlying technical bias in favor of the camera and its settings.

Reed counters that it's the photographer's eye that makes the photo by honing in on what to show and deciding how to frame, or compose, the picture. As Reed puts it, "enabling the viewer to see what I want them to see."

Our normally laid back friend became positively fierce in her defense of the artist's eye:
"The camera is the medium; dealing with the light requires technique to choose optimal camera settings. But without the artist's eye, it is nothing."
In a series of four bordados, Debra invites us to see what, in Wallace's words, is 'hidden in plain sight'.


I. Pineapples (2008)

This work explores two ways of seeing a pineapple.

Pineapples (2008)
Photo: Florence Leyret Jeune
[Right-click to Enlarge; Back Arrow to Return to Post]

The left-hand pineapple, with its clearly articulated features, is perhaps more realistic. Its companion's features are softer, even muted, in a way that seem to echo reality ... is this muted pineapple, then, the ideal? What comes first: the chicken or the egg?

Does reality reflect the ideal or, conversely, does the ideal come about as a reflection or echo of our experience of reality? Put differently, is the ideal our projection of how we would like reality to be? The work invites us to reflect on this provocative, platonic question.

Detail - Pineapples (2008)


II. Nine and Nine (2008)

Nine and Nine invites us to pay attention to two tropical fruits, corn and bananas. Although we eat corn as a vegetable, botanists classify it as a fruit, along with tomatoes, green peppers, cucumbers, zucchini and other squashes.

The eye notices the compatibility of their elongated shapes and the similarity of their colors. Both are yellow fruits; bananas have a slight curve, whereas cornat least the varieties we're familiar with in the U.S.are straight. This work depicts a Mexican corn similar to what in the U.S. is known as Indian corn.

The eye also picks up the textured play of light and shadows on the manta, Mexican muslin, on which the image is stitched.

Nine and Nine (2008)
Photo: Florence Leyret Jeune
Corn was first domesticated in southern Mexico (more about this later). Someone recently observed that maís (corn) is an essential ingredient in Mexican cuisine, used in the preparation of more than 600 food dishes and drinks. It is simply impossible to overstate the quintessential role of maís in Mesoamerican culture and mythology. 
Bananas are available year-round, low in price and high in nutritional value (rich source of energy and minerals), so it's no surprise to learn that bananas are also a staple of the Mexican diet. In terms of value, bananas place second among fruits cultivated in Mexico (second only to avocadoes); thus, the banana sector also generates much-needed direct and indirect employment.
Corn and bananas are not only classic staples of the Mexican diet, but together they have traditionally constituted one of the pillars of the Mexican economy.
The corn and bananas depicted in Nine and Nine are from an original drawing; a commercial pattern was used only for the flowers framing them.


III. Pineapples / Pinecone (2009)

Pineapples / Pinecone (2009)
Photo: Florence Leyret Jeune

At first glance, the composition of two Pineapples set beside a single Pinecone has a whimsical quality that suggests a play of shapes and textures. Pineapples / Pinecone beckons us to see similarities in what, on their face, seem to be objects only tangentially related.
Pineapples originated in the Amazon River Basin somewhere between Brazil, Paraguay and Argentina. In Mexico, pineapples are grown in the states of Veracruz and Tabasco on the Gulf Coast; and Chiapas, Oaxaca and Nayarit on the Pacific Coast. 
It surprised me to learn that pine forests are found in the mountain regions of these coastal and southern states. As the transition zone between two of the world’s major biogeographical zones, the lands of Mexico form a bridge between North and South America. Geologic and biologic factors have combined to create in Mexico the fifth most biologically rich country in the world.
The country's pine-oak forests are one of the ecosystems presenting tremendous species diversity. Over 50% of the world's pine species grow in Mexico. Unfortunately, the country's pine forests are also one of its least protected ecosystemsthreatened not only by natural, accidental and even intentional forest fires, but by deforestation for subsistence (wood-burning cook stoves) and sale of commercial timber.
Pines are among the most commercially important tree species valued worldwide for their timber and wood pulp. Pine wood is widely used in high-value carpentry items such as furniture, window frames, panelling, floors and roofing; the resin of some species is an important source of turpentine.
A second, more intentional look at Pineapples and Pinecone is rewarded. Pinecone is stitched in the 'open' form for releasing its seeds, and it joins the enigmatic Pineapples encountered earlier [I. Pineapples]. 

Here, presumably realistic Pineapple provides a solid background against which its more fanciful companion Pineapple is set next to a Pinecone seemingly suspended mid-air yet improbably moored by a relaxed ring of red flowers.

Not to be ignored is how the manta, Mexican muslin, once again eases into the composition, the texture of light and shadows echoing and enhancing the image.

In Pineapples and Pinecone our eye plays with the complex choreography of light and color, texture, shapes and shadows, even as we try to wrap our minds around complicated interactions of the natural world, traditional lifestyles and the implied intrusion of modernity.

IV. Real / Ideal (2012)

Real / Ideal (2012)
Photo: Florence Leyret Jeune

Lake Zirahuen trout are famous, but they have been seriously overfished. Although still to be found in the lake, they are few in number and hard to catch. The Lake Zirahuen's white fish are also famous and considered a delicacy.

In this context, Real / Ideal is an intriguing work. One might assume that the real fish would be in front with the ideal fish providing a kind of background. But that assumption would be incorrect.

So this bordado challenges my underlying assumption. Here the fanciful, idealwe might even say imaginaryfish commands the foreground, while the more real fish swims alongside in the background ... and, oh, yes, we are encouraged to observe how the tail of the real fish violates the seemingly inviolable boundary of the stitched frame.

Here is Wallace again to remind us that:
"... one part of what teaching me how to think is really [about ... encouraging me to be] just a little less arrogant. To have just a little critical awareness about myself and my certainties. Because a huge percentage of the stuff that I tend to be automatically certain of is, it turns out, totally wrong and deluded."
In the post mentioned earlier, I wrote:
"We are discovering life at the verge to be dynamic and full of conflict, both creative and destructive. In biology, some species are in process of being destroyed even as new species are evolving. Culturally, the same is true: it is at the verge that traditional cultural forms slowly change even as new cultural forms are in process of coming into being."
Political Works

As I continue to reflect on Debra's art, Kurt Vonnegut's notion of canaries in the coal mine comes to mind. Pondering what the use of any of the arts might be, Vonnegut articulated what he called the "canary in the coal mine theory of the arts", which says
". . . that artists are useful to society because they are so sensitive. They are super-sensitive. They keel over like canaries in poison coal mines long before more robust types realize that there is any danger whatsoever.”
~ Kurt Vonnegut

Debra's super-sensitivity shows up in her series of 'political' pieces, notably NAFTA (2008) that she, quite intentionally, chose to head the invitation. That the North American Free Trade Agreement has had a devastating effect on the Mexican countryside is a conclusion widely recognized on both sides of our shared border.

The unanticipated consequences have been dire for ordinary people: driving the migration northward of poor young men and women who see no future for themselves in Mexico; and increasing the resources of drug traffickers who approach poor farmers no longer able to sell their crops, paying them to grow marijuana in their fields or to allow meth labs to be set up on their remote mountain properties.

I. Border (2008)

Border (2008) is Debra's first embroidery in Mexico. Starting from a commercial pattern given to her by a friend, she embroidered upon (pun intended) the original pattern:
A helicopter passing overhead casts a shadow on the ground in front of the horse's hoofs.
Border (2008)
Photo: Florence Leyret Jeune

Some background is useful for understanding this image.
Following a deeply flawed election, President Felipe Calderón took office in 2006. Critics say that he launched the 'war against narco trafficking' as a way to distract the public and legitimize his presidency. Calderón, speaking recently at a Harvard forum, said that when the U.S. ban on sale of assault rifles expired in 2004, the violence in Mexico began to spiral upward. On other occasions, Calderón has protested: "I had no other choice."
In 2007 the U.S. Congress passed the Mérida Initiative, which provided military equipment to support the Mexican government's 'war'. Including helicopters. We living in Michoacán began to hear and see black helicopters regularly flying overhead. 
In an attempt to reverse the spiral of violence, Calderón also sent the Mexican Army into the streets, first into Michoacán. But soldiers are not trained for police work; they are trained to exterminate the enemy. Predictably, human rights abuses occurred, and citizens began mighty protests against the militarization of their towns, cities and countryside.
Update - December 21, 2017: Mexico President Enrique Peña Nieto promulgated the highly controversial "Act of Internal Security" designed to give legal cover to Mexico's military taking part in what are normally assigned as police actions. Strong protests by NGOs and human rights organizations both inside Mexico and internationally have been lodged regarding the law's constitutionality. The law is now before Mexico's Supreme Court awaiting its decision. 
The helicopter's ominous shadow cast on the ground in the path of the riderless horse bears silent testimony to the violence suffered by the ordinary people of Mexico in this so-called 'war against narco trafficking'.

II. Bees / B52s (2008)

Bees / B52s (2008)
Photo: Florence Leyret Jeune

Debra's work Bees / B52s echoes mounting citizen protest against the militarization of Mexico's towns and countryside. 
The rose is a special, almost sacred, flower in Mexico. The peasant Juan Diego picked roses in December at the command of the young, brown woman on Tepeyac Hill who spoke to him in Nahua; the young woman personally arranged the roses in his tilma, or cape; and, when he opened it for the Archbishop, those roses fell from his tilma, miraculously replaced by an image of the Virgin of Guadalupe, Mother of Mexico.
Three hundred years later, roses appeared on the banner of the Virgin of Guadalupe carried by Father Miguel Hidalgo at the start of the peasant rebellion that is recognized as the start of Mexico's War of Independence from Spain.
Thus, B52s are juxtaposed against the natural world of bees buzzing around Mexico's very nearly sacred flower for its close association with the Virgin of Guadalupe. In suffering the crucifixion of her son, the Virgin is intimately familiar with the profound suffering inflicted by violence and war.


III. Colonel Sanders (2008)

Colonel Sanders (2008)
Photo: Florence Leyret Jeune

But that's not all that was happening in Mexico. In 1994 the North American Free Trade Agreement, NAFTA, was signed. By 2008 ordinary people in both the U.S. and Mexico had been living with the treaty's negative effects for almost fifteen years.
When NAFTA opened the doors to the Mexican marketplace, U.S. mega-businesses were quick to take advantage: WalMart, Office Max, Home Depot, soft drink industry (notably, Pepsi and Coca-Cola) and the fast food chains, including KFCColonel Sanders' own Kentucky Fried Chicken. The unanticipated consequence for Mexico has included a dramatic rise in diabetes (sugared soft drinks) and obesity (fast food).
Colonel Sanders speaks to the threat of baby chicks destined to become KFC and dapper daisies whose very existence is threatened by the neoliberal invasion of Mexico, which more than a few Mexicans liken to the Spanish 'invasion' almost five hundred years ago.

IV. Impermanence (2008)

Impermanence (2009)
Photo: Florence Leyret Jeune

Impermanence is yet another commentary on changes brought about by NAFTA and neoliberal economics.
Flowers are an integral, ancient component of Mexican culture. It is the nature of flowers to make a display, wilt and die ... flowers are the essence of impermanence. 
The Mesoamerican tradition of flowers long predates the Aztecs. Bountiful displays of marigolds are a vital element of rituals associated with Día de los Muertos, Day of the Dead. In the state of Morelos, roses are grown and sold as part of an ancient tradition.
Depicted in the very act of cutting a stem, the scissors signal society's vulnerability to the so-called modern world; even more, the barcode suggests the intrusion of modern technology with its insistence on identifying and controlling everything as a 'product'. Taken together, they suggest an expiration date not only on a longstanding and revered tradition, but perhaps on Mexican society itself.

This piece is one of Debra's last to employ a commercial pattern, which suggests that she thought long and hard about inserting scissors and barcode. The artist's intentionality bestows on the work a sad poignancy.

V. Swans (2009)

Swans (2009)
Photo: Florence Leyret Jeune


At first glance, Swans swimming on turbulent lake waters appears to be another study exploring the real and ideal, and perhaps it is. A realistic swan confronts a fantastic, even Disney-like pink swan.

But below the waterline is a row of three helicopters. Ominously, the first helicopters are minimally outlined; only the last is fully stitched.
Passed by the U.S. Congress in 2007, The Mérida Initiative was signed in December of 2008 by the Presidents of Mexico and the United States. Under the agreement, the U.S. provided equipment, including helicopters, and training to Mexico's military and law enforcement personnel. 
By 2009 people in Michoacán were seeing black helicopters in the sky overhead, including over Lake Zirahuen.
Was this the artist’s intimation of worse things to come ... the menace in the air ... becoming more real every day? Is the pink-red swan drawing back in alarm? Canary in the coal mine ... ?

VI. NAFTA (2011)

NAFTA (2011)
Original Drawing
Photo: Florence Leyret Jeune

NAFTA is the first embroidery Debra made from an original drawing. A powerful statement that holds absolutely nothing back, the work speaks directly to a difficult multi-dimensional struggle currently taking place in the Mexican courts.

We've already discussed NAFTA's negative impact on many ordinary Mexicans. We've brought up the entry of multinational businesses into Mexico. We've taken account of the negative impact of the drug trade and the subsequent militarization of huge swathes of the Mexican countryside. But we haven't yet touched on the issue of genetically modified organisms (GMOs) in Mexico.
Hundreds of years ago, corn was domesticated along the banks of the Balsas River in southern Mexico. Since then peasant farmers using traditional methods have developed varieties of corn uniquely suited to the multitude of ecosystems found in Mexico. If permission to sow and cultivate genetically modified corn is granted, contamination of native varieties is inevitable. What is even more dire: the damage is irreversible.
A large segment of the Mexican population—led by scientists, but including peasant and farmer groups, artists, human rights and other activists—are struggling to prevent authorization for widespread cultivation of genetically modified corn. A class action lawsuit is currently being heard in the courts; a ruling is expected within months, if not weeks.

VII. Cock and Copters (2011)

Cock and Copters (2011)
Original Drawing
Photo: Florence Leyret Jeune

Cock and Copters is another of Debra's first works based on an original drawing. In my opinion, this bordado is one of her best. Proudly elegant, the Cock stands tall and defiant as he confronts an implacable line of advancing olive drab Copters. No suggestive outlines here. Each helicopter is explicitly stitched in full menace.

But the viewer's eye is drawn to the Cock's shadow arched in full attack mode. In conveying the ferocious power of its determined defense of territory, the sheer energy contained in this bordado  leaves this viewer breathless.

VIII. Shadow (2012)

Shadow (2012)
Photo: Florence Leyret Jeune


Shadow presents another duality: fish and helicopter. The blue fish swims serenely along, seemingly oblivious to his surroundings: "What the hell is water?"

Meanwhile, a fantastic helicopter hovers above, one landing wheel set to descend upon the heedless fish.

But this is no ordinary helicopter: frog-like eyes inhabit its gun turrets; its body hints at fish scales; its tail subtly mutates into a piscine form, and its open bays surreally intimate an open, even devouring, mouth.

Shadow in the sense of shadowing a person. Reality intruding in the form of the surveillance that is a core mission of helicopters flying over Michoacán's countryside, threatening its natural state from within and without.


IX. Drones (2013)

Drones (2013)
Original Drawing
Photo: Florence Leyret Jeune

Drones has an even more surreal quality. Drawn initially to the richly textured, cerulean blue sky with hints of puffy clouds nestled along the sky's edge, the viewer's eye quickly moves to the line of drones, which has a disturbingly insect-like profile: Is that a finely stitched grasshopper at the head of the line?

The drones following behind ... increasingly less detailed ... suggest a never-ending chain of menace ... arising seemingly out of nothingness ... but, endlessly threatening with the fecund persistence of the insects whose evolutionary history spans millions of years and crisscrosses the entire planet.

X. Avocado vs Pinecone (2014)

The best way to introduce Avocado vs Pinecone is to show the view from Debra's back porch. The cleared areas on the opposite hillside are newly established orchards, where young avocado trees have been planted.
In Michoacán, avocados are colloquially referred to as 'green gold' ... and with good reason. Mexico supplies 45% of the international avocado market. The 'Avocado Belt of the Mexican Republic' includes Michoacán and the State of Mexico, but Michoacán accounts for 92% of the country's avocado production. With yields considerably higher than those obtained in California, Michoacán leads the world in production of this fruit. The major cultivars in Mexico are Fuerte, Hass, Bacon, Reed, Criollo and Zutano.
People who can't get permits set fire to their pine forests, clear away the burned rubble and plant their orchards. Challenged by authorities, they shrug their shoulders and reply simply: "It burned down." Avocadoes require water, but water in Michoacán is just as much an increasingly scarce natural resource as it is around the world. Globalization arrives in Zirahuen. 
Pine Forests and Avocado Orchards:
Looking Across Lake Zirahuen from Debra's Back Porch
(Photo: Reed)

My first impression of Avocado vs Pinecone was that it is a gorgeous bordado. Delicately sculpted in rich blue and green hues, the avocado seems to emerge from the manta, Mexican muslin, on which it is stitched.

With its textures and colors, the pinecone seems preternaturally electric. At the exhibit, I was inexplicably struckand movedby the vitality of pine needles stitched along the bottom. One bent and nearly broken pine needle especially caught my eye.

Surely, I initially thought, this work is another study in Real and Ideal, but something kept nagging at me. Almost absent-mindedly, I found myself asking:
"Why did Debra choose to name this work Avocado versus Pinecone?"
Avocado vs Pinecone (2014)
Original Drawing

Photo: Florence Leyret Jeune

No sooner had I articulated the thought than the answer popped into my head: each time we visit, Debra, with visible distress, points out new avocado orchards. So profound is the subtlety that I'd assumed the bordado to be another of what I think of as an "artist's eye" piece that invites us 'to become aware of what's hiding in plain sight'. But it isn't. Not at all.

Suddenly, I realized that the broken pine needle speaks to the vulnerability, even fragility, of life not just in Mexico, but around the world as the cumulative effects of climate change, militarization and neoliberal economics (the last two inextricably, tragically linked) expand geometrically.

Can it be that these works of embroidery art bring us into the presence of a canary in the coal mine?

Still Curious?

Debra Breckeen can be reached via:
Email: dbreckeen@gmail.com
Telephone:
  • Inside Mexico From cell phone: 434-562-2910
  • Inside Mexico From landline: 044-434-562-2910
  • Outside Mexico: 011 52 434 562 2910
Mailing Address:
Debra C. Breckeen
P.O. Box 405
Patzcuaro, Michoacan, Mexico 61600

Wednesday, June 13, 2012

Jenny's Neighborhood: Making Friends Mexico City-Style

It's hard to believe, but we've lived in Coyoacán, a neighborhood in Mexico's capital city, for almost a year—ten months, to be exact. We know our way around. We've figured out where to buy most of what we need. For readers who don't live in Mexico, this is a much bigger deal than it seems. But that's another post,

We've done what we needed to do to make the apartment comfortable. We are content. We have all the space we need but not an inch more, which is—we're discovering with each passing year—a value not to be underestimated.

As foreigners, we find that our access to broader Mexican society is limited. Most of the Mexicans we meet are taxi drivers, shopkeepers and tradespeople. In Pátzcuaro, making friends at this level was remarkably easy. Although in 1533 the Spanish king designated Pátzcuaro a city, culturally it is a pueblo, a small town, with small-town values of 'neighborliness'.

One of the reasons we enjoy Coyoacán is because it resembles a pueblo in many ways. So we weren't surprised by the friendliness of Araceli, the young woman who works in the lavandería around the block that does our laundry. She and I became fast friends when first she, then three months later I, had our respective gall bladders removed.

Don Rigoberto is in the center; his nephew, Leonardo, is on the right; and the math teacher from the school next door completes the group. Tintorería is Dry Cleaning. 


It took a little longer for Reed, who usually delivers and picks up the laundry, to become acquainted with the owner, Don Rigoberto, and his middle-school nephew, Leonardo, who is learning the business.  But the guys have now become amigos and chat regularly. When I delivered the laundry the other day, el Señor immediately asked about Reed. Clearly, they've got a guy thing going!

Language Challenges

How Reed and I speak the language makes it difficult for some Mexicans to relate to us because we don't speak colloquial Spanish. I once asked Francisco, my Spanish teacher at CELEP in Pátzcuaro, why Mexicans get a 'funny' look on their faces when they speak with me. It was my perception that they don't look 'relaxed' the way they do when speaking among themselves.

He thought for a moment, then replied perceptively, "Even though you usually use correct grammar, you don't speak the way we do. They're trying to figure out what you're saying."

I chuckled. It wasn't the first time I've heard that comment. Twenty years ago I did a two-year project with Pemex, the Mexican oil company. I had two translators: Carlos, in his late 40's, was well versed in business; Yuri, in her early 20's at the time (we are still friends!), translated my written reports.

My work involved week-long workshops in Spanish with engineers in the oil company's various departments. After an introduction that I delivered in Spanish, I would work with them to diagram their work flows. Carlos's main job was to make sure the engineers understood me, and that I understood them.

One day after a session, Carlos approached me to explain: "I'm not interrupting you, because the engineers are paying very close attention to you. They're asking themselves, 'What is she saying?' Since you've got their attention, I'm staying quiet."

In the same vein, I've discovered that some people seem to have an aptitude for understanding my Spanish. Others don't. This is true of our building staff. Doña Carlota, the building administrator, seemed to understand us easily from the beginning. Our two guards, Victor and Ángel, have had to work to understand us. A few months back, I was pleased to notice that their faces have become more relaxed when we exchange pleasantries.

Toñia keeps the building spic'n span. Each Saturday, she scrubs the white stairs that rise from the sidewalk to our lobby. My Dutch mother would be impressed! At first, I could see reflected on Toñia's face her struggle to understand me, but we're making progress. Last weekend she was sitting at the desk when I came downstairs to go out. She greeted me with a big smile and said, "I was just thinking I haven't seen mi amiga all week!"

Cultural Challenges: Small Town in Mexico City

Coyoacán appears to be a small town, but it is urban nonetheless. As twenty-year veteran residents of New York City, we're accustomed to urban life and urban ways—and that's a good thing, because it's taken nearly a year for many people to become comfortable enough with us to 'drop their masks' and relate to us one-as-one as human beings. Don Eberardo is a great example.

Don Eberardo, Marcos el Convento (Don Eberhard, Convent Frames)

About six months ago, seeking to frame two beautiful bordados, embroidery pieces, we paid a visit to a frame shop in the neighborhood. I'd noted their sign, "Marcos Medidos" (Custom Frames) down the sidewalk as we walked by on our way to somewhere else.

The sign reads, Marcos el Convento (Convent Frames—sorry, the 'M' got cut off ). Don Eberardo stands to the left; his son José stands at the counter. Left Click to enlarge, which makes it easier to see the facial 'mask' that Mexicans seem to prefer for photos and the shop's interior.

The shop is small, unassuming. The counter is almost flush with the sidewalk. Most of the shop is behind the counter. But I figured it was worth a try. Since moving to Mexico I've learned that appearances can be deceiving. One of my best 'finds' in Pátzcuaro was a run-down shack that called itself an electrical repair shop—and it really was! The owner's ingenuity in repairing electrical appliances was nothing short of genius.

But let's face it, I'm Dutch. I'm fussy. Our friend Debby had emailed photos that showed how our bordados were to be framed. Not only is Debby an artist in crewel embroidery, but she was a professional framer at the Houston Art Museum, so she knows the best way to frame embroidery for maximum effect. She even sent photos so I could show the framer exactly what I wanted.

Debby's photo of a bordado tacked on, using tiny stitches, at perhaps three or four points along each side of the heavy manta (Mexican muslin) board on which it is mounted. The use of a spacer allows the glass to 'float' an eighth to quarter of an inch above the bordado. In the photo, the spacer is the lighter wood between frame and the manta backing. For a better view, Left Click to enlarge. The spacer allows the bordado to look like fabric rather than, say, paper, which would be framed flush against the glass. The shadow under the fringed edge shows the piece 'floating'. The space between bordado and glass also allows the bordado to breathe, which prevents moisture buildup and mold.

Armed with Debby's photos on my iPad, I introduced myself to don Eberardo.  I wish I had a photo. Not one facial muscle moved in his expressionless face. It was, in fact, mournful in the inimitable manner of a Basset hound. With the subtlest of expression, he managed to convey a mix of deep skepticism and mild disapproval.

The 'Mask'

In his seminal work, The Labyrinth of Solitude, Octavio Paz writes about the 'mask' that Mexicans can wear to protect themselves from those in authority — first, of course, against the threats implied by Spanish authority. Yet even today, Mexicans can pull up masks to protect themselves against strangers, foreigners, who pose a potential threat to one's dignity.

Their fear, I have come to realize, is of being unable to provide what is needed or wanted. The roots of this fear lie in a vulnerability to displeasure or criticism — itself, a serious affront to dignidad, dignity, in Mexican culture.

I would never have recognized the 'mask' as such, except that I happened to share with my Spanish teacher a remarkable event. Late one afternoon I was walking back to our house along the via, dirt lane, that runs in front of the house we rented in Pátzcuaro. Leaning against a neighbor's gate was a young campesino whose face was absolutely expressionless, even slightly hostile.

I hesitated as I approached, unsure, but I decided to greet him with a friendly "Buenas tardes" and an innocuous comment about the likelihood of rain.

At my smile and words, his face opened into the most beautiful, engaging smile. If I hadn't seen the transformation with my own eyes, I  wouldn't have believed it possible. When I described the incident to Francisco, he smiled knowingly and replied, "Sí, se cayó la máscara", "Yes, the mask dropped".

So I've become a student of the Mexican 'mask' which, to tell the truth, can be a bit daunting, even intimidating. I'm a California girl. My personal style is informal, friendly. I've taken up the challenge of finding ways to help Mexican acquaintances feel comfortable enough with me to drop their masks.

But I thought I'd found my match with don Eberardo. For starters, he's well into his eighties, which means he's pretty much seen it all. Next, my very explicit requirements clearly challenged, if not threatened, him. Fortunately, I had Debby's photo to show him exactly what I wanted. Later, he told me that the photo was invaluable in showing him how to frame the piece.

Here's the end result:

Tree of Life bordado from Tzintzúntzan, Michoacán.
Framed in Coyacán, Mexico City

When we came to pick up the finished pieces, I thought our pleasure would melt don Eberardo's distrust, but it wasn't to be. "Well," I reasoned philosophically, "you can't win them all."

Repeat Customers

Over the next couple of months, we sought don Eberardo's assistance with various other objects. We asked if they could varnish a wooden toy truck for our grandson, a small, carved wooden statue from Michoacán, and from our friend, Enedina, a string of four carved fish that, according to Purhépecha beliefs, protect the household. Each time, don Eberardo agreed to take on the project and the result was excellent. But the 'mask' remained firmly in place.

A Bordado From Zirahuén

Recently, I was fortunate to acquire a bordado stitched by one of the women in the Zirahuén Ladies Sewing Circle. So I made another trip to the frame shop. As before, don Eberardo's mask was firmly in place while we discussed details and chose a frame.

The day after I dropped off the bordado, I called to confirm that he would use a spacer—a detail I'd neglected to mention. He assured me that they would use a spacer, then adding confidently, "We will frame this piece precisely the way we framed the other."

I told him we'd be away for a few days, visiting our grandson in Chicago. He said he'd telephone when the piece was ready. As I was hanging up, I realized how reassuringly professional his voice had been. Was the 'mask' slipping even a tad?

When we got back, I called to see about the bordado. Don Eberardo's son, José, answered the phone and told me that they'd had to order the wood, but it had arrived so they'd make the frame and call when the piece was done. A few days later, I got the call: it's ready.

Claudia's Bordado, Ladies Sewing Circle of Zirahuén.
Left click to see detail, including the Sun's down-turned mouth, which is traditional throughout Mesoamerica.
Note also how Claudia used just a few stitches to depict the smallest bird.  

Don Eberardo kept his word. The framing is beautiful...exactly like the other two pieces. As we finished up, I chatted away...mentioning that before moving to Coyoacán we had lived in Pátzcuaro for three years. In response, cautiously, don Eberardo began to tell me that he was familiar with Michoacán and with Pátzcuaro. As he described places he had visited, I responded appreciatively.

My curiosity rose. Why was don Eberardo so familiar with the area? Before I could ask, out of the blue, he told me that his daughter had married a man from Michoacán and lived in a pueblo outside Morelia. Suddenly, unexpectedly..."se cayó la máscara", the mask dropped.

Don Eberardo's smile is gentle, his manner kind, even fatherly. We leaned against the counter, chatting and sharing experiences of our visits to Michoacán. He told me about the tiendita (neighborhood grocery store) his daughter runs in Michoacán, adding that he is nonplussed to understand why so many people come to shop at her store, which is in a tiny hamlet of three houses. But he answered his own question by adding that her customers tell his daughter that the employees in the large box stores aren't always nice, and the stores sometimes cheat. We commiserated along the lines of 'what has the world come to'.

Then he told me that from his tiny shop, they fill framing orders from areas around all around Mexico City—Puebla and Cuernavaca, each about an hour outside Mexico City in opposite directions—and the state of Mexico, which surrounds Mexico city like a horseshoe. Don Eberardo even joked with me of a mighty injustice: "the people come to my daughter's tiendita in the middle of nowhere, but no one comes to my tienda in Coyoacán!" Laughing at the irony, I replied, "Well, I come!"

As I write these words recalling a moment of unexpected pleasure derived from connecting with Mexico at such a human level, a gentle smile plays around my eyes and mouth. The words of our housekeeper in Pátzcuaro, Evangelina, come to mind, "Todos somos seres humanos", we are all human beings.

Yet Another Visit

Today Reed and I walked over to the framing shop to get pictures that I could use for this post. We're also discussing with don Eberardo how we might acquire an architectural piece—a hand-carved frame to hang picture-less above a credenza in the dining area.

As we walked up, don Eberardo was wearing his mask, but it fell quickly as we exchanged greetings. I explained that we wanted to take their photo to include in this post. At that point, he and the assistant became very busy getting out and dusting off a large oval frame, which they brought over to the counter for us to look at. The carving is done by machine, which leaves machine grooves. We like the style, but not the machine grooves.

To my astonishment, don Eberardo lifted the frame for the photo—all the while wisecracking that when we bring him a print of the photograph, we'll have to pay to have it framed!  Who would believe it?

Don Eberardo hamming it up for the camera when we asked him to smile.
Six months ago ...who would ever have guessed!

And so to those who ask, "But what do you do in Mexico?" — we reply, "Oh, we just walk out the front door and see what happens."

Still Curious?

Jenny's posts titled Art and Friendship in Zirahuén, Michoacán, and The Art of the Zirahuén Ladies Sewing Circle in Michoacán, México, describe the crewel embroidery art of Debby Breckeen and the Ladies Sewing Circle she stitches with.

A number of Jenny's posts discuss the 'mask' in a variety of bureaucratic settings:
Jenny's Post Work in Mexico: "It's my job!" discusses the cultural importance of dignidad, dignity, and respeto, respect—cultural components closely linked to the 'mask'.

Several of Jenny's Posts describe our neighborhood in Coyoacán's Colonia Parque San Andrés:
Jenny's Post Mexico Culture: Campesina Wisdom recalls chats with Angelina, as we leaned against the kitchen counter and drank our morning coffee.

In a similar vein but having absolutely nothing to do with 'masks', are two of my favorite posts of taxi drivers we met in Pátzcuaro:
  • Afternoon in Pátzcuaro describes the delightful exchange with a taxi driver when I couldn't get home because of a citizen protest blocking the road;
  • Humble Man, Big Soul describes an unanticipated early-morning spiritual gift from a taxi driver. 

Wednesday, May 23, 2012

The Art of the Zirahuen Ladies Sewing Circle in Michoacán, México

It's amazing what can happen when two people, from very different cultures, come together in a shared purpose. It happened a couple of years ago when a young man named Franco from the P'urépecha community of Zirahuen, Michoacán, returned home after spending time in Houston, Texas, which just happens to be the hometown of artist Debby Breckeen.

They met after Debby had been living in Zirahuen for about a year. As Debby tells it,
"Franco seemed as anxious as I was to 'energize' his time in Zirahuen. He was learning how to work with the government of Michoacán. He had developed a government project to add bedrooms to houses where people were sleeping in smoky kitchens. Since most cooking is done on wood stoves, bedrooms reduce health risks associated with inhaling wood smoke."
After a couple of years, Franco approached Debby. He wanted to let her know that he had interested the Michoacán government in funding a project to develop a collective embroidery piece depicting scenic Lake Zirahuen. The finished piece would hang in the tenencia, government office.

Franco asked Debby to teach a class of crewel embroidery to a group of women and manage the collective project. The government would pay for the supplies.  

On Mother's Day a year ago, Debby joined a large group of women and children for a movie and snacks. Before the movie began, she showed her crewel embroidery, and Franco announced that Debby would teach a class at the tenencia beginning the following Tuesday.    

'Temporary', Crewel Embroidery, Debby Breckeen

Here's Debby's account of what happened next:
"The next Tuesday, 43 women signed up! 
"I asked that there be four, one-hour classes twice a week—two classes per day.   
"Then I noticed that the young woman who was organizing the ladies into groups was taking great care to assure that no one would be in a group with anyone she and her family had 'issues' with. Seeing her distress, I realized that collaboration on a common project was not likely.  
"The government support never materialized. But the ladies came!"
P'urhépecha Artisan Tradition

It bears mentioning that the P'urhépecha people, a proud and linguistically distinct people, were never conquered by the Aztecs, who were given to regular military forays onto P'urhépecha lands in search of slaves and victims for sacrifice.

The Purhépecha are also a pragmatic people. When the P'urhépecha king learned that the Spanish had defeated the Aztecs, he sent a delegation with a message for Cortés, "We do not want to fight you. We accept your god and your king." 

Their cooperation, alas, did not inoculate the P'urhépecha people from the worst excesses of the Spanish military. Fortunately, Vasco de Quiroga arrived to become the region's first bishop. 'Tata Vasco' ['Father Vasco' in P'urhépecha] was a humane man who sought to protect the indigenous people from the Spanish soldiers. He is beloved, even venerated, to this day.

To leaders of the P'urhépecha community, Bishop Quiroga explained that it was essential for them to learn how to become self-sufficient under Spanish rule. To accomplish this goal, he assigned a craft to each pueblo in the Lake Pátzcuaro area. Present-day P'urhépecha artisans say that Bishop Quiroga merely formalized pre-existing craft specialties—the pueblo of Santa Clara del Cobre, for example, had been working with copper long before arrival of the Spanish. 

The artesanía [folk art] of Michoacán enjoys an international reputation. In Morelia, the state capital, the Casa de las Artesanías showcases and sells the work of the state's artisans. 

The Spanish also introduced European materials, tools and techniques to indigenous artisans. Guitars and other stringed instruments of international quality, for example, are now made in Paracho located up on the P'urhépecha Meseta, or Highlands.

Creating Something Different....

This is the artisan tradition that Debby was entering, but as she writes:
"Most of the embroidery in this area is deshilado (Pulled-Thread) in which fabric threads are pulled or bundled together by embroidery stitches, creating an open, lace-like effect."
Detail: Deshilado,
'Pulled-Thread' embroidery

"And also punta cruz bordado (Cross-Stitch or Cross-Point) in which the stitcher makes a pattern by carefully counting the threads of fabric in each direction so the stitches are of uniform size and appearance."

Detail: Punta de cruz bordado,
'Cross-Stitch'

Detail: Cross-Stitch
"Most P'urhépecha women are skilled at these two methods of embroidery. They make serviettes, napkins, for christenings and birthdays that are usually cross-point done with synthetic thread on synthetic fabric with a bright crochet border. Many people use them to cover tortillas served from a special pot. But most of the women had never tried to invent anything from fabric and thread."
During a recent chat, Debby mentioned that her intent in teaching the classes was to offer the ladies of Zirahuen a way to distinguish their bordado, embroidery, from the bordado produced in other pueblos.  Then she added, 
"I teach crewel stitches, but I don't mess with their kick-ass aesthetic. I love their creativity so I just stand aside and watch it flower."
Classes Began Last June (2011)

Debby supplied patterns and fabric, the local muslin called manta. The ladies bought their own hoops, needles and thread. Debby made only two strong 'suggestions', that the women, please:
  • Use cotton thread and material—no synthetics; and
  • Avoid Disney characters in their patterns—Mexico's pop culture is fascinated by Disney.
Under Debby's direction, the ladies learned how to trace a pattern by taping the pattern to a sunny window and placing the fabric over it. They learned about four crewel embroidery stitches per class.

Since the groups were large, Debby taught three women the more complicated stitches. They would then go back to the circle and teach another three. Everyone became a teacher.

Learning by doing...and learning from each other
Debby recalls,
"Many women dropped out. Four groups became two….then one two-hour class each week. Today a core group of fifteen women, aged from 20-something to 83, meet weekly for two hours.  
"The class became a circle. Ana Lilia keeps the library of patterns and fabric at her house. Each person chooses how to use her time and the available materials. If she needs new supplies, she knocks on Ana’s door to get to the library.  
"After we had a sampler of about twenty different stitches, we began sewing a simple pattern of a single flower. Each person could choose whatever color and stitch she wanted."
First Simple Pattern already shows the inherent creativity.
"Then we worked on larger, more complicated patterns. The ladies began to join patterns together and invent some of their own imagery. Their skill was incredible and becoming more personal."
Cuca's Tablecloth
Fishing in Lake Zirahuén is an important part of
Zirahuén culture, so it isnt surprising that many women are
embroidering fish. For Cuca, a field of fruits and vegetables
is surrounded by water...and fish.

Detail: Cuca has surrounded her field of fruits and
vegetables with a verdant border labeled Refugio, refuge.
In this work, Cuca has created a sanctuary—a quiet
place set aside from life's daily chores and cares.
"But every Tuesday we gather in the tenencia and sew together. I come at 4:00 PM and leave at 6:00 PM. If no one is there at 4:30, I go home. So usually one or two women come before 4:30 and report who will be coming later to 'hold the class'!"
Berta has just removed her bordado from the embroidery hoop.
"When we had been sewing together for six months, I took twenty-two pieces of their work to The Alternative Fair in Erongarícuaro."
Esmeralda: Stitching'n ... chatting...a
welcome break from daily chores
Detail from Esmeralda's Fish
The colors are knock-your-socks off alive!
Prices ranged from 80 pesos [about US$6.00] for their first small design to 350 pesos [about US$26] for larger, more personal pieces. 
Detail from Ana's fish
So different from Esmeralda's fish,
more introspective, reflective....

Ires's Cross
The creative and cultural complexity of this piece is stunning.
The basic shape is that of a quincunx—the form traditionally used to
represent the Mesoamerican cosmovision. The top point of the vertical represents
east (rising sun); the bottom point represents west (setting sun). The
horizontal line represents the earthly plane, where daily lives are lived.
The point where all lines intersect at the center represents the
axis mundi, world axis, center of the world. According to traditional
beliefs, priests in altered states of consciousness pass along the axis mundi
between the three planes of existence: Earthly plane; the Heaven (above), and the Underworld (below).
Ires has even stitched the three concentric circles that represent the 'center' in the
Mesoamerican tradition. It fascinates me that inside the circle—as if it were being
viewed through a magnifying glass—the horizontal band is slightly elevated.

"We sold almost all the pieces! This money would recoup the cost of the more expensive thread and fabric. And it would do more than that….  
"The circle now has a purpose. It is not a cooperative that wholesales and sews collaboratively designs made by others...where one woman does the clouds, another the water, another the fish, etc. It is a chance for each stitcher to sew what she likes at her own speed with the possibility of making a small profit to buy more thread. 
"What attracts me about crewel work is that it is a freer type of embroidery. Once the pattern is chosen, the piece is completed by drawing on the stitcher's imagination in choosing colors and stitches...perhaps even building a texture relief on top of the fabric...like what the ladies have done with their fishes.

"That’s where we are now. Hopefully, we will all return to The Fair together for a fun day of music, food and profit."
Debby Reflects Back....
"As an immigrant, I am not allowed to make money in Mexico. But the commitment to this group has given me the structure and responsibility I had been craving since I retired in 2007. I now feel more embedded in the community. When I drive through town, people wave and call out, 'Buenos días'. 
"I have to think in Spanish in order to communicate (awkwardly, but surely) with this group of ladies. I ask them to correct me when I err (often), and they do! At least once a month, I am asked to relate yet again the tale of why and how I am here without children or a husband.... 
"And the children…at least two accompany each lady to the group. They play with each other while we sew. When the group began, Claudia sewed while nursing Antonio, her six-week-old baby. He will walk soon."
Antonio is almost the same age as the group...
One Year in June!
Ana says Nancy (sporting sunglasses and a broken cellphone) and her sister, Daniela, are always jumping on the bed saying…"I’m Devi!" - "No…I’m Devi!"  
Jenny's Note: As Debby and I were putting finishing touches on this post, I almost had to write to her calling, "Uncle"! What on earth is 'Devi'—then it came to me: Devi is Debby spelled in phonetic Spanish. "B" and "v" are pronounced exactly the same way in Spanish, so when Mexican schoolkids are learning how to spell, they quickly learn to ask, " 'b' as in burro, or 'v' as in vaca (cow)"?

Then Debby wrote to tell me that the group had written on her birthday cake, Felicidades, Devi—'Happy Birthday, Debby'.  Is anyone else getting the idea that Debby is a beloved figure in this group?

Children of Zirahuen: Daniela and her friend,
Nancy pestering her cousin Daniel, and
Carlos, looking a bit stunned.
Guapo, 'handsome', Daniel...is forever bringing
Debby 'stuff' he finds in the street...an
abandoned dinosaur sticker or lost gold star.
 Augustine is so small the kids all make fun of him calling him bebesota, little baby. 
Elia has four daughters, Juliana, Andrea, Iris and Claudia. They all have children who sometimes come. Elia’s grandchildren are very quiet just like their mothers.   
So today, after many spent ink cartridges, hours spent on the internet searching for new patterns, failed negotiations for exhibition venues, and letting go of all kinds of expectations, I now relax and let the group be itself. 
Sometimes we’ll be quietly sewing and someone tells a story that gets all sorts of snorts and whistles. Sometimes there are questions and reviews. Everyone seems normal….sometimes tired, sometimes nervous, sometimes agitated with their children.
But we are together...trying to make something personal and beautiful.
Ladies Sewing Circle of Zirahuen, Michoacán
First Row (left to right): Ana Lilia, Debby, Chelo
Back Row (left to right): Lupe, Carmela, Cuca, Mireya


Still Curious?

Related Jenny's posts:
For more about Debby Breckeen's life in Michoacán, including videos of parades in Pátzcuaro, Google this—d.breckeen@Flickr—then take your pick...and Enjoy!


From the international citizen's blog Global Voices comes this post:
  • English: Embroidering for Peace: Threads, needles and fabrics have become warriors for peace in Mexico. In cities like Monterrey, Guadalajara and Mexico City, men and women of all ages have decided to speak out and share their thoughts and experiences on violence by participating in a collective relief effort through embroidery.
  • Español: México: Bordando por la paz: Hilos, agujas y telas se han convertido en guerreros de la paz en México. En ciudades como Monterrey, Guadalajara y Ciudad de México, hombres y mujeres de todas las edades han decidido hablar y compartir sus ideas y experiencias sobre la violencia participando en un esfuerzo colectivo de labor humanitaria a través del bordado.