An Absence of Disruption

Today I went to Juanita and Candace’s home in Santiago to learn embroidery. It was a perfectly lovely experience, marked by very little “noise.”

We don’t speak the same language [Candace knows some Spanish, but for the most part they both speak the local dialect], so we were sitting there in silence as I worked, and they watched me, and instructed me with their fingers. There was no music playing. There was nothing on the gray walls, except a hand-made sign that said “Happy Birthday Dad” in Spanish. There was no television. No pets. The only bit of print media in the room was the magazines that I brought for Candace. Even when their brother Santiago quietly came into the room, he stayed awhile, watching me tentatively as I worked.

The absence of disruption exposed quickly the sheer difficulty of what I was doing, and the discomfort and confusion I was feeling about learning something new from people that I couldn’t speak to. It also allowed me to fully be present and appreciate that after 6 hours I not only had a little birdie sitting in my lap, but I had also developed a special bond with these women without sharing words.

And in such synchronicity, I happened to read this right after my experience:
“Everything is usually so masked or perfumed or disguised in the world, and it’s so touching when you get to see something real and human.” P 215, Traveling Mercies, Thoughts on Faith, Anne Lamott

de parte de Dios 2 [from God part 2] - Ladies of Coban

As I sit here in a café at 7:23 am reflecting on our day yesterday when we were introduced to the ladies of Coban I am emotional. There have been moments here where I have been able to hold back my tears. There have been moments here where I have not. Shoot I think this is one of those moments. Poor café people.

I witnessed something so special yesterday. The ladies of Coban came to visit us from their village in Coban to show us their art. They are weavers, these ladies ... but different than other weavers. The women in the village [yes only women, the men are farmers] weave these beautifully delicate and intricate textiles only in white. And when I say delicate/intricate, I mean that their textiles look like lace.

These women started weaving when they were children [think: under 10 y/o]. They weave into their textiles symbols of what they see around them - crabs, ducks, deers, spiders ...

To say that these textiles take a long time to weave is a total understatement. The weaving takes a very very long time - and because it takes so long the price is high. And because the price is so high, it is very difficult to find these treasured textiles in the world. It pains me to say this, but this art is not sustainable for the ladies. It is a dying art. Unless we can work with the artisans to come up with a sellable solution, while not changing what makes their art so perfect.

And these ladies are exactly like the art they create: peaceful, delicate, full of grace. Yesterday I saw God.



"Thank you for coming to see my weaving. I came here with my heart. Take it with you, with your heart."

de Dieu [from God] - Marie Noelle Fontan Natural Textiles Artist

Today I had the pleasure of not only meeting natural textiles artist Marie Noelle Fontan, but I also had the pleasure of helping her put together a slide show of her art for my class. Oh ... my ... God. There were moments that I nearly stopping breathing. Forever. Like - I was so satisfied seeing her art that I would've been ok dying at that moment. Really.

Marie Noelle is from France and spends a couple of months out of the year living in Antigua. Her happening to be in Antigua at the same time our class - and her visiting our class to give a presentation - was a such a gift.

When I say "natural textiles artist" I mean this: Marie Noelle collects nature from around the world, and weaves it directly into a composition using the loom that her Mom used to make her clothes when she was a young child. You heard me: She uses nature she finds - coconut, leaves, husks, beans, sticks ... etc - and weaves them into a delicate 'textile.'

Her art is perfectly composed, and uses the natural form of her findings to create beautifully gestural, perfectly delicate, and incredibly graceful pieces. Breath-taking really. And I just saw photos.

And Marie Noelle is just like her art - beautifully composed, humble, and full of grace. I have died and gone to heaven.

Marie Noelle giving the presentation:


Some of her work I pulled off her website:









Olga, Marie Noelle, and Me (a truly prized photo):

Finding Passion: Ode to Embroidery

Have you always wanted to learn how to do something ... and finally when you do, it's like fireworks going off? It's like somehow, you're home.

I've always wanted to learn how to embroider. And today, when I learned how to embroider, it was like 4th of July.

Camilla from a village up North was my teacher. I think that I might be hooked. No really, you don't understand ... I already went to the market and bought 30 different colors of thread and some hoops. I want to embroider everything in site. My shih tzu Bunny. My breakfast [eggs]. An ice cream cone. Leaves. Flowers. I'm looking forward to our long ride to Lake Atitlan on Thursday so I can zone out and embroider and drool in delight.

Camilla:

And also learned how to make pom-poms. I mean, who doesn't like a good pom-pom every once in awhile?

Hummingbird Heaven & The Best Artist I Know

Today we had a free day, and 6 of us went on a hike in Antigua.

At the beginning of the hike, there was this little hummingbird deck set up and I was literally moved to tears when I was watching these little creatures. Like nothing I've ever seen, or heard. They are larger than the hummingbirds we have in San Francisco, and because of their size, their wings make a low moaning noise as they float in the air. At some moments, I was hearing an orchestra of the hummingbirds. I've never heard anything like this. And unfortunately, you won't either ... since you can't hear the sound in the video, but you can see the little guys fly around:

I am beyond grateful today to be a fully-awake and conscious witness to the artwork of the best artist I know. Here are a few photos from the hike:

And I saw a butterfly with transparent wings! You heard me! The wings are see-through. I couldn't get a good shot, but I just looked it up and it's called a Glass-wing Butterfly. Literally took my breath away. Here's an image I found on the internet:

A Rainbow of Battle Scars

[Dyed with Indigo yesterday. And the huge red dot is one of many mosquito bites]

The Cutest Thing You'll Ever See

So cute, I just can't take it. [Needle felted today out of Momostenango wool!]

Transcending Language

I had a moment today. I was feeling overwhelmed. A little anxious. I went outside and took a long break. I sat in the middle of the garden outside our school. Cried, wrote in my journal, drew, sat quietly. I went back inside, wiped the tears off my face, and then sat down at the loom with Jorgé.

Jorgé and I don't speak the same language, but he taught me. It was tough at first. But then I started to get it. It was all coming together. I wasn't thinking about anything. My hand was moving back and forth. We were beautifully working together ... in a rhythm, only communicating through craft, and not needing any language.

I stumbled away from the loom an hour and a half later. My feet were sore. My head was spinning with delight. I had a moment with Jorgé, with the loom. And there were really no words exchanged. Ah, the universal language of making.

Jorgé made this for me:

Guatemala Day 3: More Dyeing & Tying Knots

Another beautiful day here in Antigua. Still working on natural dyeing. Also started setting up the loom with our Momostenango artisans. Take a little tour below.

Preparing the dyes:


Achiote (a natural pigment used to add color to food):


A slight intermission:

Dyeing the thread:



Longwood dust (makes a beautiful purple which you can't really see in this photo):


This is Olga, our instructor at Indigo. I caught a very special moment here:


Cheesy student picture:


Sorry ... the video I took of Jorgé threading the loom is taking too long to upload. Let's just say that this process takes awhile, and I'll have more opportunities to take footage.

I hear thunder ... gotta get back before it starts downpouring ... xoxox