Identities

Last but not least here is my final post of the semester.
I want to say first of all, that I had a wonderful time in the class. I was sooo lucky and blessed to have met so many wonderful people and such a chill understanding teacher that really tried to relate to his students personally. The class had such a vibe that I immediately felt like I was part of the family. My friends who I invited to the super Pachanga ;) especially my friend from Brazil had a wonderful time singing at the top of his lungs like he was part of the family from that one night as well :)
It was a special group. I hope to keep these friendships beyond this class.

This last piece, I admit, is not as flashy as all my other pieces; there is no primary colors, let alone any color except the nuances of graphite, and only slight texture.
However, this last piece is perfect for summing up my journey in this class.

I started off hesitant, rusty on my Spanish, and quiet because I was afraid to embarrass myself in front of these thought-to-be native Spanish speakers. I was wrong. I realize that each person in this class was a fusion of cultures, identities, and dilemmas and also triumphs that I could deeply relate to.
The conversation that we had in class discussing the "stuttering" that people had was memorable, as well as the importance of our name, and how the pronunciation of it dictated different meanings and identities to people.

First let me expand on the stuttering that everyone talked about. My case was a little different. I would be able to speak and read and write both English and Japanese since I was little. However, the extent to which I was literate in Japanese is still slightly hard to discuss. Because I don't sound foreign in either language there is an automatic assumption that I am fully fluent in both languages. However, I can't say that I am. I am trying to maintain my Japanese language and culture, even as I know that American culture and language is ingrained deeply within me. It is confusing to say the least. My Japanese culture is something that I hold on to and identify with. However, in reality, it is a culture that I only know so much of, and can live through my family, Japanese friends, and when I go to Japan. However, I also know that it is a culture that I am never part of, and never will be fully part of. It makes me sad to think about it, but I have accepted the fact that I am a fusion of both cultures, and I am making a way for the median between the two cultures. Everyone who is a mixture of different cultures has their own definition of how involved they are with one culture and the other. There are millions of definitions of "Japanese American" for every single person that claims they are this identity. It's hard to dictate how involved one will be though.

Also, the "name" topic that we discussed in class is a big part of this dilemma. In America, my name is Naomi (Neigh-oh-mee). <Not Nahee-oh-mee..... like some people mistakenly call me -_-> In Japan, my name is Naomi （なおみ／直美／ Also known as: Nah-oh-mee）.
Which name do I prefer? I personally am at a loss to decide. I am both. I have the American part of me that says "Neigh-oh-mee" but the Japanese part of me that says "Nah-oh-mee". I had friends who pressured me to decided, who still question me for which name I prefer but honestly, I'm fine with both. They are both a part of my identity, and although it may seem indecisive I decide to be indecisive. haha.  I stand tall for both my cultures. Some people in class thought that by saying our name in an American accent, it meant we were succumbing to the American culture. However, perhaps that person identifies more with their native culture. If so, then perhaps people saying their name in an American accent would dictate that they are succumbing. But for others, like me for one, it is different.

How does this relate to my art? To this class?

Well, for the last week I did some research on Lila Downs.

           

The most important fact about her that influenced my artwork was her identity search. She once felt ashamed at her identity as part Native American. She was embarrassed when her mother spoke in her Native tongue. Eventually though, she accepted that identity of herself. I took these pictures offline, to show her different faces, representing her face depicted in the mainstream sense of what "beauty" is, thinned eyebrows, dark eyeliner, long hair, versus the pictures depicting her with braids, fuller eyebrows, less defined make up, jewelry that hints at her Native American culture.
It reminded me of myself. I used to dress according to popular Japanese culture when I was younger, and now I dress admittedly more American than Japanese, but also with Japanese modern styles at times. She shares my journey of finding oneself amid clashing cultures.
My art mixes the face of Lila downs with symbols from Japanese culture, Mt. Fuji, sakura petals, the rising red sun symbolic of the Japanese flag, along with Native American cultural influences including an image of a lady in mid step during a traditional dance from Oaxaca.
It is an ultimate image of relating myself personally to one of the singers that we looked at in this class.

It's funny because I came into this class wanting to know more about my mother's culture and her view about it, but I came out knowing and having a stronger grasp of who I am. Amid all of these challenges in searching for myself, and understanding where others are coming from,  and making art to represent these feelings, I feel like the biggest challenge was overcoming my fear of the Spanish language barrier once more, and overcoming my fear a little more of opening myself up to other people. This class has granted me the opportunity to make art and challenge myself to expand materials, styles, and ideas of art, while understanding more about Mexican culture (which I really love to do), and keep improving myself as a person at understanding and being open to other people and cultures. Also, I feel like I better understand my mother a bit more, and possibly her struggles and feelings amid her journey as her younger self born and raised in Mexico, through this class. Overall, I am thankful, for you and for everyone who made this journey happen.
Gracias amigos. ¡Hasta luego!

Cantantes

Top Right: Hermanas Aguila: "Farolito"

Middle: Toña la Negra: "Noche Criolla"

Left bottom: Elvira Ríos: "En Mi Soledad" & part of: "Verdad Amarga"

Oops I got part of my toe in the bottom picture. haha

I will explain these pieces as best as I can because this week I attempted to focus the pieces on songs of specific artists to form this triptych. As stated in the list above, Hermanas Aguila, Toña la Negra, and Elvira Ríos were my three artist choices. 


The emotion that each artist conveyed differed quite greatly to me, apparent from the colors I chose for each piece as well as brush strokes.

To me, Farolito by las Hermanas Aguila was the most straightforward to draw. The bright tone of the song evoked these dab marks recurring throughout the whole piece, but at the same time, the song was smooth, the voices of Hermanas Aguila sliding from one note to the next. As I painted, the picture reminded me of a landscape of flowers with pink clouds.
Looking at their background, Paz and Esperanza Aguila started off singing at family gatherings, gradually gaining fame and flowering into an undeniably talented duo, setting the style of duo boleros. I mainly looked at this sight for information since there were very little english sites explaining the life of hermanas aguilas.(http://rincondelaanoranza.blogspot.com/2010/03/hermanas-del-bolero-hermanitas-aguila.html). I couldn't figure out which one has the higher voice and likewise which one has the lower voice though. Google translate could not help me.
Regardless, the lower voice prompted me to add in the dark maroon colors that are scattered throughout the piece, while most of the time the voices are blended to form this overall pink piece.

When I heard "Noche Criolla" I immediately thought of an ocean in the night, waves sweeping back and forth, moonlight dimly hitting some waves and not others. That is where the inspiration for the bottom right corner comes from. From here, the song took me to sweeping colors, usually dark, but sometimes ending in an unexpected major chord, which prompted me to use the lighter colors. However, the song mostly came from a dark smoldering tone. It's frustrating because some of these older singers have very little written about them on the internet. As someone new to this type of music, I can understand most of what I know about them solely on their music. Here was a little bit of information that I found on wiki (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/To%C3%B1a_la_Negra)

The last piece is from Elvira Ríos singing "En Mi Soledad" & part of: "Verdad Amarga". I used two songs for her because personally, I had trouble understanding a tone for her. Her manner in the videos is one of confidence and possibly slightly haughty, but her tone is almost the opposite from what I heard. It has a smooth, quiet mood that dips and stays low with a dark tone that envelops her style. It reminds me almost of honey that can't decided which way to drip. Therefore, my last piece was in my opinion the least successful but works to convey my confusion of her style.  

whirlwhind

The warmth of the happiness and brightness and fiesta mixed with the cold darkness and tristeza creates a tension that inevitably forms a current that swirls into one mass, melding the two temperatures into a median point. 

The songs like Ella, speaks of sadness of lost love. How the singer wishes darkness to swallow him up, the mariachis and tequila causing him to cry. However, amid the sadness it also speaks of how good those days filled with love were. The reason why he can be so sad now, is because of how good the times were before. The darkness is filled with memories of brightness. There must be one to have the other.

This piece reminds me of when my past boyfriend and I broke up. It reminds me of how there seemed to be everlasting darkness pressing from all sides, threatening to squeeze the life out of me and cast me down into darkness where I can only hope to see a pinprick of light from the outside of my dungeon. However, I look back now and then and I realize how much I learned, mostly because I refuse to be seeped in darkness and regret. I refuse to have him dictate my life now, so I use what happened to my advantage. As much as I don't like to admit, I realize that I had a great time in that relationship. What's even more striking and heart-warming is that after the relationship in my time of depression, I had so many friends and family to support me to get me through that hard time. I am filled with love to know how much brightness I was given and how much love kept me afloat. It's like the golden, bright yellow, and copper beads in the center. They undeniably stand out, shining, even amid the stark brightness surrounding it. 

further additions

The first picture is additional detail I put into the "Milpa/ Maiz -- Maguey/ Pulque -- Son" week art.
It seemed a bit empty with just the original maiz, and the gray blocks of representative buildings. I wanted to connect the piece, make it flow better, and fill it with the movement of the young moving to the city from the maiz so I added these details (the blue lines, filled between the arches of blue). Also, the ripple effects just add to the effect that the maiz is growing into the water. Heaven and earth touch, connected by this miraculous plant.

the beginning

The butterfly was supposed to represent what Mexico is to me. I, who was born in San Diego, with Japanese culture as my other half, had very little idea of what Mexico was. The connection that I had with it, was that my mother, her brother, and sister were all born in DF Mexico. My mother shared little stories of her time there. She said it was a hard time, especially moving so much.

However, from my imagination, and the extravagant parties that my aunt would throw for each of my siblings and my birthdays, I had an inkling of the fun lively culture, celebratory for whatever possible, but also a strong sense of familia. In my mind, it was bright and colorful amid the hazy background for where the rest of the world lay. It was a butterfly, also adorned with flowers to enhance its beauty. 

On a more interpretive note, I made the butterfly all out of parts of birds that I cut out of my 2012 birds calendar that was lying unused. This symbolized the predator and prey mindset that dominates many countries around the world, but that I thought was especially apparent in Mexico. The one who dominates and the one who gets eaten by the dominator; there is the one who rules the land in his riches and the poorer one who works hard, and tries not to meddle in activities to become a target to the one who dominates. This is all based on not factual information, but rather a feeling that I got, listening to snippets of stories from my mom and aunt and grandma about Mexico. 

(oops I guess i already posted about this first one ^)

Anhelo: 

This was from week 2 of our assignments that I never got around to posting.
the word was Anhelo.
For some reason I kept thinking about butterflies. I intended to keep a butterfly trend to the rest of my projects, but eventually decided not to. Let me tell you a story about this butterfly.

After 1-2 long weeks of staying in its cocoon, this butterfly finally slipped out and broke free of its cocoon. It was a cocoon that protected but also trapped the butterfly. However, it needed to be patient to make sure it could develop enough so that it could have a successful flight. The moment when the butterfly's crumpled wet wings emerged, it looked at the free-flying butterflies. It saw the potential it had, the fear that perhaps it won't make it, but also the deliberate strokes to clean its wet wings. This moment made me think of Anhelo. It was the moment when you saw where you were, and you saw where you could be and the hope that you could get there.
This moment was beautiful :)
I also related the butterfly to my last project because I wanted to compare this scene to my relation of the butterfly to Mexico. Again, this was my initial impressions of Mexico that I did not fully understand. Mexico is about to rise its wings and fly! 

for you.

Put simply, this long piece of art reiterates the story that Ry Cooder wrote: Los Angeles Stories: La Vida es un Sueño.
I guess I'm trying to depict Agustin Lara's life in this short story, and to save myself from excessive 
words describing/ruining the piece, I will leave it to you to imagine the subtle details :) 
What I will say though, is that it's trying to say that regardless of Agustin Lara's life and the things that 
filled it, it ultimately comes down to the music he sings and plays, and the meanings of the songs and 
who it's for. 
I'd like to quote the article when it talks about "Sin Ti":

"Sin ti
Que me puede ya importar
Si lo que me hace llorar
Está lejos de aquí

The poetry is simple, the sentiment is common. But there is the art! Effortless, comfortable each thought set before the listener like pearls strung into a necklace by the hands of a beautiful woman, one by one" (p 60).

Although the music is undeniably connected to the atmosphere of the performance, it is ultimately a treasure on its own, strung together by the hands of a beautiful woman, to be presented in the hazy stage light, ultimately and truly

For you.

red path

Agustín Lara

When I read the biography of Agustin Lara's life, it made me think of an image. 

It was a red path, first narrow and then gradually larger and larger interrupted only by small pieces of blackness trying to stray him from his path. But the path was so solid, so deep, so set that he just had to follow it. There was no way that he could not follow it. Let's say it was his "destiny."

Anyway, I was inspired by his story. Why does it always seem like those that become professionals happen to fall upon something?

I, who am trying so hard to find something, finds nothing, but those who keep doing things keep going, not really thinking too much about it, just happen to find something that is perfect for them one day. 

I respected Lara's story when his father sent him to the military, enraged that his son would try to follow musicianship. However, I feel that this only strengthened Lara's love and passion for music and piano, and set his mind to keep pursuing music after he came back from the military. 

picture to come.

Sunshine in splashing water

Trovador Fuente Cenote

When I imagine of a fountain:

Water bursting from a spout of hard wood/ concrete/ metal to contrast with the flowy, splashing water, shimmering and shining in the sunlight as it spurts down. The splashes that slap the ground bounce off little water droplets that rise into the air, creating a small haze of mist that only one who comes close enough can feel. 

Trovador:

The poet of one who has the heart and soul of the culture of his roots embedded within him. He is able to portray his/her soul in an eloquent rivulet of words that cross and bind together, to hold the listener close. It binds the sorrowful tales of a heart shattered in pieces. 

Cenote: 

The deep pool of water is only accessible when one goes the journey to its depths and finds the water of life bursting with vibrant energy.

Combining these thoughts together I formed this art piece. Perhaps my choice of big fat blocks of white paper was a mistake as Tony and other classmates suggested. To some extent I agree. However, before I start criticizing my own work I will tell you the meaning.

The paper is water flowing down, curling at the bottom to signify the small droplets that splash back up to create a cool hazy breeze. The paperclips at top catch the light, flashing when it moves, like water, which shimmers and catches light so well. 

The piece was supposed to be more 3-d so that the viewer could gently walk through the pieces of paper, until they arrive to the wall where they find little pieces of shredded paper, pinned to the wall. It was supposed to be an interactive piece. The act of the viewer walking through the paper slivers is similar to the act of one passing one's hand through a curtain of water, gently feeling the paper slivers envelop the person, and brush against one's body like walking through a curtain of water. When one gets deep enough in the depths of this paper fountain, they reach the pieces of pinned paper, which lie dormant at the back. This is only visible when one parts the curtains, and wills himself/herself to look behind what lays otherwise flat. The pieces of paper are shredded bits of heart reminding one of the sorrowful songs of the trovador, only available when you cross through the depth of the piece, to reach the wall. The depth is the cenote. It is the bridge from this surface- world to the next soul- world. 

I don't know if I overdid it, but the crossing pieces of thread bind the whole image together. These are also the words of the trovador who resonate and hits the soul of the people, binding them together to create one beautiful image. 

Maiz. soul.

Today's class was one in which I felt.
For one, the violinist in the youtube video Tony showed us, touched me so deeply I could only stare at the screen and be in awe. Maybe something in my younger years as a violinist awoke when he played. The tone of the violin, though crackly because of the age of the recording, settled, gently sinking comfortably within the deep pool of my soul. It may sound exaggerative but I was in awe.
I loved the comments on my painting this week:
Ariel talked about how it looked like the fence right next to the ocean (river?) next to the border of Tijuana. The gray/ greenish things looked like a fence to him and to others as well. It reminded me of a story my dad told me: A man in his twenty-somethings fresh to America jogged casually across the border. He suddenly realized a line of Mexican people following him (who were trying to cross the border). The cop obviously asked what was going on, and let my dad who barely spoke english go, as the rest of the people had to stay on the border line.
Doja spoke about how it reminded him of the Cenote which is associated near the Yucatan. Mayans once believed that it was connected to the afterlife. I loved the idea of this. The idea that this painting looked as if it connected this life and the afterlife.
My take on it is that the maiz, is connected to the water, dripping into the water as if falling into it. But once the painting is flipped upside down, the water turns into sky. The significance is one of the maiz, which is the soul of the people (referred to the video) connects both water and sky as one. From Doja's take, it is comprehensive to connect this life and the afterlife as well.
This painting also has another part. I wanted to depict the transcendence of the people from maiz, and natural land into the cities. It is the migration into the "modern". The blocks are actually buildings, growing in size and importance as the people move away from the maiz. Their soul. This is where the mask kicks in, where people at first try to keep their culture, but then slowly move away into the city life, almost integrating completely into a gray block. But then, at the biggest blocks (the ones who are totally invested in the city culture) they realize that their own identifying culture is very important. So the people in the city who are most involved in the culture are the ones that are incapable of returning, but also the ones who try to bring their culture back. That is my take on it.
I also have a comment on Tony's comment about me but i shall right later. I have to catch a flight! see you :)

look for updated pictures in other posts! 

Masks and masks and masks...

A pinwheel is a combination of many blades one upon the other all connected in the center, the axel, where it spins by.
Each of these blades are a chapter in my life, different masks in which I accumulated one upon the other, acting based on the situation, and the different groups of people I interacted with. I frequently got lost in the combination of so many masks asking whether I was truly myself at home or at school, in the face of the crowd or alone. Each time, I used the various blades, switching from one to the next, trying to be one but not completely one and switching to another and not completely another. It was a whirlwind of colors, pausing momentarily, blowing the various masks from one to another. Eventually the pinwheel spun faster and faster into one blurred color. The color that suits me. I am a combination of all these faces I tried, and finally I rest somewhere closer to where I am supposed to be.
The mask Paz talks about, reminded me of my mask. Paz talks of the one that "we" Mexicans use, using this mask as a shield, always aware, perhaps seeming like "we" are sometimes laughing, sometimes bowing but never ever backing down. It was a mask that seemed to assimilate with society, but in reality just guarded that inner self that doesn't fully agree with one or another.
Patty asked me what the significance of the chopsticks were for the handle of the pinwheel. Honestly, I just chose it because it was the first thing that came to mind, that I had, was dispensable, and that was perfect for the shape.
I guess it says something of my cultural influences, that I had so many at my house and immediately thought of this material among so many materials. Now that I think of it, I could have used a straw.
I do not make the assumption that chopsticks are a marker of Japanese culture (especially since other asian cultures and abroad where I probably don't even know of, tend to use this form of a utensil to eat).  However, I guess sometimes even though we try to hide, some cultural influences show without meaning to. 

Raiz

I have so much on my mind that I have not yet posted.

Raiz. Pila de Bautismo.
When I read Paz, and even Francis Toor, I got the sense of the struggle that it took for religion to become integrated within a society. I might ramble a bit, but it reminded me of when Christianity was introduced in Japan in the sixteenth century. It was difficult at first for the missionaries introducing Christianity. However slowly it seeped into the lifestyles of the people and became a part of the pattern in Japan's society and eventually became such a growing deal that the feudal system sought to destroy the rising number of Christian believers.
Going back to Raiz.
What I am trying to show with this artwork is that the religion is like the huge sun, dominating the culture and the mindset of everyday life that weaves underneath the image of this huge sun.
I guess something I could have done better was to integrate the sun within the patter underneath which is society's complicated and diverse field.
However, underneath all these chaotic and flashy images dominating the surface of society- where it meets peoples eyes- there is the base. The raiz.
It is the base of society built upon the work and backs of the workers and (way back when) the slaves who worked to build and piece together ripped pieces of fabric into one piece of surface so that the rest of society could survive.
This piece's focus is not the front but the back. The focus is between the 'plain white' ripped fabric and the societal structural lines and squares of color under the huge sun dominating the scene. It is where the ripped fabric rubbed over and over by brown and black acrylic paint lies hidden. 

Flash of a Knife

 "In ours, with their brief, aggressive, electric syllables, resembling the flash given off by a knife when it strikes a hard opaque body, we condense all our appetites, all our hatred and enthusiasms, all the longings that rage unexpressed in the depth of our being" (74, Paz)

5th project. 

I'll be going out of order.

The flash of a knife reminded me of the brilliant spark of a rock hitting another rock. It is momentarily too bright that it darkens everything out of sight. These red hands, covered in the same black color that it comes from and struggles to show, threatens to cut a hole in the system that covers the heart- the system that captures the heart in a metal contraption only shown through the glass that contains it within. It has triangle warning signs to show that this heart cannot be revealed in the system. It is too dangerous to handle.
That is why the heart and struggle hides behind a beautiful flower tapestry. People from the outside wonder why would anyone ever want to protrude their red hands covered in black, ruining the beautiful look they have? But they don't understand that the hands are trying to show something deeper, deeper than the system already engraved under the beautiful flowery mask, way deeper into the soul of one who still stands strong.

Tierra y Corazon

My mother was born and raised in Mexico up till high school years. I've heard little about her childhood. I've only had the opportunity to see Mexico once for a day or two through Ensenada, trying to imagine what it would be like.
From the little that I have seen and the imagination for what other locations would be like, I have this impression of Mexico:
Brilliant colors- stark and contrasting. Flashy and bold. Strong. Beautiful, but also gentle at times. I imagine a dance of colors, whirling around like the colorful butterflies that migrate across the land.
However, there is still ambiguity in my imagination for what it would be like, and for what I can know about it. Therefore I made this piece, depicting the brilliant butterfly, but also hazy background to show my ambiguity for what it really is and what it can be.
The butterfly is made out of different feathers and parts of birds. This was a way to show that predator and prey, friend and foe, can live in this centralized location of dynamic beauty.