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May 14, 2007
The Hunger Artists, the Fire Thrower, the Painters, and the Musicians
Since several of my American friends have left, I’ve been passing a lot of time alone in the Centro, taking things slowly. My workload in the UADY is coming to an end (so I don’t have all that much to worry about in terms of homework) and I’m not planning on taking any more trips. So, I’ve decided that “people watching” would suffice for the time being—“people watching” and picture taking.
The Hunger Artists
I’ve been sitting in the Centro a lot and have been watching the Cathedral. Although walking into the Cathedral can certainly be interesting (you get a chance to see the monumental statues and paintings, the high triumphal arches and the dome), watching the outside of the Cathedral is equally as entertaining. Because sometimes, what people do as they walk along the outside of the Cathedral is just as important as what goes on inside; it can give a good indication of how people treat the building and its importance in the city.
I sat watching for a long time—for over an hour. People passed making the sign of the cross—singles, couples, whole families. There were businessmen in business suits and women in their ypils, groups of tourists and groups of con artists, all doing the sign of the cross. I watched as a woman took a bag of rice and threw it high into the air, capturing the attention and stomachs of many, many pigeons. And I watched the poor people—the “hunger artists”—in front of the church. I watched as they begged for money in front of one door and then, when nobody was around, ate a quick piece of food that they were hiding beneath their shirt. I watched as one woman was fashioning a patch on her eye to pretend (if it actually wasn’t the case) that she was blind. And I watched as the hunger artists traded seats and facial expressions with one another; they moved from one portal to the next, cocking their head a little to the left—no, a little to the right—and shuffling the coin cups between their right and left hands.
While I don’t doubt that many of them are poor, I do believe that there is an artistic element to their begging. Often, it’s hard to tell exactly just how poor these people are.
The Painters
After Erich left, I went to El Hoyo, the café, to use the wireless internet. While I was there, I saw the artist that does finger paintings once again; I had bought one piece from him a while ago, back when I went to the café with Erich, Dianela and Carla. There were very few people in El Hoyo and so I sat at a table very close to him, watching his work and his methodology.
While most of his paintings look very similar (and he’s probably had a lot of practice making them) I give him credit for creating them so quickly, while holding a conversation at the same time.
I still am confused, though, as to what people do with his paintings.
He came over to my table and asked me if I wanted to buy another one and I thanked him but told him “no” and he moved on.
Just yesterday, I saw him sitting outside the 7-11 near the Centro and he recognized me…it sort of makes me feel good that people recognize me out of a crowd—even if he is a painter that I didn’t buy anything from.
I met another painter, too, the other day in the Mercado. I decided to enter into the Mercado, just for the sake of passing the time and to see if I could buy anything real cheap. I came across a woman repainting statues for churches—figures of Jesus and the Virgin Mary, St. John and the Apostles. Not only was she repainting the figures, but she was also widening the figures by dipping her hands into wet clay and smoothing her fingers around the edges of the base and working her way upward.
I stopped to talk with her for a while, because I was interested in her work. And, I didn’t come across many people practicing the same craft in the Mercado. She told me that the store was owned by her husband’s family and was first opened generations ago. She showed me her technique and let me take some photographs of her working. Her work was so difficult, but she made it seem so easy.
The Fire Thrower
As I walked back from El Hoyo that one night, I decided to take the long route home, since I’m not in a rush to be anywhere and I don’t have much else to do. I walked past the park of Santa Lucia, where I’ve been many times to see Thursday night concerts and to eat lunch on Sunday afternoons. And it was in the park of Santa Lucia where I made my first phone call to my host family; I remember stuttering on my phone to my elizabeth and then to my family in broken Spanish, in the early afternoon of January 1st.
As I passed on the sidewalk, I saw a man twirling sticks of fire into the air; it looked like something you might see in a circus. He was doing a lot of tricks—behind the back, under the knees, over the head, etc.
And as I passed, I thought to myself how tranquil everybody was in the park. Nobody was complaining, nobody was even watching. As I passed I thought to myself how I would never see a man throwing fire around in the United States. People just don’t freely get to practice talent where I live, the way they do here in the streets of Mérida.
The Musicians
When I’ve gone to the Centro more recently, I’ve also seen an overwhelming number of musicians—the man that plays the saw outside of the ice cream shop, someone blowing into seashells in front of the Cathedral, a group of students playing the drums right by the flag in the center. I’ve watched them all—and I’ve watched the people’s responses to them.
More recently, I went last night to the Monument of the Patria on the Paseo Montejo for a concert. The woman that sells me lunch every Sunday in the park of Santa Lucia told me yesterday that the Cumbia Kings were in town. The Cumbia Kings are a group lead by Selena’s brother and are super-popular here in Mérida. I decided that I should go see them.
I walked to the Paseo Montejo and entered into a chaotic swarm of people; I was a bit confused what exactly was going on. But soon enough, I learned that the street was shut down for Ivonne Ortega’s party, the gubernatorial candidate for the PRI party in next week’s elections. The political party was hosting the concert and it seemed like a good tactic for convincing people to vote for Ivonne next Sunday.
The group was excellent—I stayed for quite a while. I watched them sing. I watched them dance. And I listened to them mention Selena’s name over and over again. It’s interesting that about 15 years later, she remains popular in the hearts of Mexicans, despite the constant change and advancement of the music industry.
The last few days have been quiet ones, but I’ve been able to get a good look at a lot of talent here in Mérida. And I just wanted to sort of capture it in my blog…
So late at night when all the world is sleeping, I stay up writing…
Posted by jlsumich at May 14, 2007 03:38 PM