De La Vega is emptying my mind...







I wasn't exactly sure what I was going to write about today --i knew i wanted to write, but wasn't sure that i had anything particularly interesting to say. So I sifted through my old photos from my trip here (wow...I just used the word old to describe the photos i took only two months ago...this will come up again in a minute) and was thinking about how I can't believe that I'm more than half way through my stay here. Before I left, the prospect of five months seemed like an eternity. But now that I'm here, the time has flown by. I've been asked multiple times when I'm going back, and each time I've stated the date followed by "no quiero regresar todavia"--I don't want to go back yet. I feel as though there is still so much for me to do here and I'm afraid I'm going to leave before I able to do what is floating around in my mind --and there is currently A LOT. I've got ideas for art projects I've been scribbling down in my sketchbook along with a homework schedule, trips to be planned, excursions to take around the city, restaurants to visit, the idea of internships next summer as well as a more permanent direction for my artwork, and then you add in the general concerns of grocery shopping and cleaning the apartment and doing laundry and you've got a taste of my current state of mind.

A few days ago I was looking through some web pages of artists discussed in one of my classes when I ran across a Puerto Rican artist working in Spanish Harlem in New York: James De la Vega. His work mostly revolves around chalk works and paintings done around the streets commenting on the world around him with thought provoking images and statements. The one I found particularly pertinent, and which led me to today's posting, was this:

"The discipline of emptying your mind is as important as the discipline of filling it."

While it's not the most eloquently worded statement, and when written, it lacked any sort of decoration or icon, it stands quite well on its own as is. I've been running around in circles in a hamster wheel of my own, spinning round and round inside my head and I've been trying to stop running, but what I need to do is remove the wheel altogether for a while. This sounds like an impossible task what with the prospect of missing a deadline or something else of that sort. But what I'm slowly realizing here is that I won't be able to fully absorb all I can without taking the time to literally do nothing but empty my brain of all of its thoughts --which could take days on its own.

So this brings me to my current state of reflecting and emptying. Here is a smattering of photographs I found in my archives form this trip...maybe they will spark something else...

Ricky and the Water Main...

So today Mark and I went to the pet store with the intention of buying a fish for the ginormous fish bowl we currently have. But if you know me at all, you know that I am a HUGE softie with the animals and pet stores multiply that to an extreme that is unknown to the normal human mind. So to make a long story short, we left with two fish and a hamster. Yes, you heard correctly...a hamster!!! I have always always always wanted a hamster and today...I got my wish :) And here is my new beloved child, Ricky. She is absolutely adorable --nevermind the fact that I look like trash...



The pet stores here are in direct correlation with the zoos: terrible. There were puppies crammed into tiny cages and tons and tons of hamsters to each small cage. There were adorable little kittens in stacked cages left to play with the plastic packaging that was dangling into their cages from a neighboring scratching post. The turtles were so tightly packed in their aquarium that there were actually stacks of turtles piled on the few rocks that scattered the space. To save you any more agony, I will simply say that it was a tiny space crammed with far too many animals. And my big softie heart got the best of me, and I walked away, having saved one of the tiny hamsters...and I couldn't be happier!!!

Here is Ricky in her new home. To give you a bit more of an idea of the animal treatment in the store, the woman who sold us Ricky looked at the cage we picked and said, "That's such a large cage for such a small hamster." How terrible!!! I would give her more space if we had the money to buy a larger cage. Bah...



On a completely different note, I looked down the hall and out the balcony door --yes...we have a balcony here :) -- to see this sight:



Apparently a water main had broken on the next street up. Now I haven't been around too many water main breaks, but I would imagine that that would be a large problem of great concern. When we were in San Pedro, there was actually a water main break in the outskirts of town that we happened to stumble across and there were about five men scampering around trying to solve the problem as quickly as possible. I admit that water in San Pedro is a bit more of a precious resource, but I would still have expected to see workers clamoring about attempting to remedy the situation. But instead, all I saw was a giant fountain of water gushing up out of the ground only to fall on an unattended street, blocked off by nothing more than a few ordinary caution cones.

To switch to yet another random note, I was searching a few artists yesterday and thumbing through their websites when I stumbled upon a quote which I find to be rather pertinent:

"The discipline of emptying your mind is as important as the discipline of filling it." --De la Vega

I've been finding since my arrival here that I the overload of information I have received might not be doing me all that much good. I've been bombarded with information and sights and sounds day after day, knowing that I'll only be here for a short time, and trying to make up for the time I know I won't have. But while throwing myself into this jungle of stimuli has been overloading my mind and body. I'm learning to balance the intake with sufficient down time in which to unwind and reflect. If I don't have time to do this, I won't be able to absorb anything that I'm experiencing. And if I'm unable to absorb anything, than I won't be learning, and if I'm not learning, then what's the point in being here??? exactly...

So on that note, I've been researching artists that I've heard about through the grapevines that are strung up around here and I've found that I'm learning far more than I would have expected. I had a moment of extreme inspiration yesterday which led to many drawings and a rejuvenated interest in finally establishing my website. And with that...I think I shall leave you...as Ricky runs away in her wheel, so too shall I spin through my thoughts of the past few days...

On to the randoms...


After coming back to santiago, my parents came to visit for about a week --yay!!!-- and I took note a few of the comments they had. I thought that it would be interesting to see what their impressions were and what they noticed to see if I had become desensitized to things yet or not...here's a bit of a list:

**People here are really inconsiderate. ie. when you're on the subway, people will stand right in front of the door even when they aren't getting off, and they won't move out of your way even when you say "excuse me"

**The busses are ridiculous. Confusing. Filled with more rude people and other random people trying to sell you something even more random than they are. ie. kleenex, band-aids, popsicles, etc.

**Customer service is TERRIBLE. It takes forever to get a drink at a restaurant and even longer for the food. And once the waitress brings the food, they don't come back. You have to hunt them down to get the bill and can just forget about being asked if the food was good or not. --my thoughts on this have wandered to the fact that waitress wages here aren't dependent upon tips like back in the states, so they don't have to work extra for their paycheck; their money is already coming to them whether they're attentive or not.

**Everyone stares at you --well they noticed me in particular seeing as how they're my parents-- When a blonde walks by, men look...and they aren't discrete about it in the least.

**The flowers and trees here are gorgeous and well kept. The Chilleans take a great deal of pride in their flora.

**The hotel staff were particularly adament about cleaning the room in the morning and then turning it down again at night. If you didn't want it done, you had to practically shove them out the door, and even then, they insisted upon giving you the chocolates that would normally be placed on the pillows.

I managed to take my parents to a few touristy places around here during their stay, including San Cristobol Hill --complete with a trip up the telefericos (the little cable buckets)...despite much protestation from my mother--, Vina del Mar, the fruit market, and Colchagua Valley --a famous wine valley. It was really nice to have them here, although I think it was even harder to send them off this time than it was for me to leave originally...Here's a few photos from our adventures:









aren't they just adorable???




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To switch gears a bit, I've decided to post three talleys of mine that i'll be keeping until the end of my trip:

earthquakes (that I've felt) -- 2

postcards sent -- 31
**If you would like to be on the receiving end of one of these, post your address and I'll be more than happy to send one to you.

self-portraits completed --
paintings -- 3
drawings -- 2
***if you know anything about me and my artwork, you know that i LOATHE self-portraits and avoid them at all costs so this is huge news...

I would like to also note that I was trying to keep a count of how many empanadas I have eaten, but I lost track after the first month...


To update a bit about my artwork, I've completed one large figure painting. The result isn't as great as I would have liked, but considering it was my first oil painting, I'm reasonably pleased. I've also become rather accustomed to drawing the human figure and am reaching the point of feeling as though I could do so in my sleep.
I'm currently working on a project for my general projects course that I will be continuing through the rest of my stay here. I am constructing a self-portrait using the tickets and receipts from my travels since my arrival here in Chile. I have amassed a large number of these such objects (including an insane amount of tickets from the micro busses that i take every day...and have saved for some impulsive reason), and have discovered that who I am while I'm here has been defined by where I go and what I do. Because of this, I have constructed a mold of my exact hand from bus tickets sewn together and am about to begin a corresponding foot.





I've reinforced the idea that I enjoy repetitive works that include extreme multiplicity. I'm now exploring the idea of multiplicity and playing with its effects being either numbing or astounding. I've also found a new love for sewing, although I'm drawn to sewing things that aren't clothing...

On another completely random note, I recently delved into the world of podcasts on the recommendation of Michael (I now have my laptop and can actually connect to get them...), and have been catching up on my NPR and world news --this country has a lack of decent world news coverage. I heard two stories in particular that seemed particularly relevant to my situation. The first was one about a steep decline in the number of students who used cursive on their SAT tests. The number has gone down to something like 5% and even more surprising, it is apparently not even being taught in some schools. Coincidentally I was sitting in art history class the other day when I realized that I haven't written cursive in years. Now granted I despise my script, but that is partly because I never use it. So then and then there I began writing in cursive in an attempt to reopen that part of my handwriting. Something about cursive just feels more authentic and warm as opposed to the cold and open writing of print. To piggy-back on this, I heard the news story about the Amish school girls who were killed recently. And while the story was very tragic, I found myself drawn to two particular statements that people from the town made about their way of life. One being that people should be satisfied with what has worked for generations, and the second being that tradition is extremely important --they're very similar...i know. This led me to thinking about what has happened to our traditions??? Being here in Chile has made me realize that we don't really have "cultural traditions" persay back in the United States. We're a melting pot, so unless you come from a very strong line of heritage, you don't really practice any cultural traditions. Sure, the United States has Halloween and the Fourth of July and such, but there's no traditional dance such as the flamenco or salsa. There's no traditional food or drink like Chicha or Churipan. We don't have asados, we don't have ponchos, we don't really have anything specific. And while on the one hand I love the wide range of people that live in the United States with their different thoughts and views and ways of life, I can't help but feel a lack of a heritage. Don't get me wrong, I have family traditions which I love and will continue and will pass on to my children, but that's not the same as cultural traditions. The United States is the land of diversity and opportunity, but when we accepted that, we lost any true cultural heritage or traditions...

enough randoms for now...more shall follow i'm sure...

Got your coffee??? I hope so...cuz here we go again...


So about half way up the mountain --huffing and puffing profusely-- I began to wonder how in the world that old man was able to make it up the INSANE amount of steps. At one point, I ran across this sign, which I found to be rather irritating --although it could have just been my extreme exhaustion and desire to be at the top already...you be the judge.



My thought was that if you've already been climbing for about 30 minutes up a mountain with only one trail, don't you think you would already know where you're headed and not need a sign to show you which way was up and which was down??? Maybe I'm crazy, but I found it to be an irritating reminder that I was still not particularly close to the top.

Once I reached the platform at the base of the peak, I found another similar sign --although this one wasn't as irritating. This one pointed me in the direction of a tiny cave above that I was to attempt to climb through. And I do mean attempt, because the cave was particularly tiny and I'm no large individual...so the Incas not only had tiny feet, but were just all around small.



After climbing through the cave, I was pleased to find myself only a small wooden ladder's climb away from the peak. However once I traversed that ladder, I was wishing I hadn't. While the view was unbelievable, I was frantically looking around for the way back down only to find that there was a particularly narrow and steep slope that had to be crossed and then a series of insanely narrow steps to be descended before I would be able to reach the steady decline that wound down the rest of the mountain.



I'll spare you the nail-biting details of my descent and simply state that I made it to the bottom --with insanely shaky legs, but still in one piece, and then welcomed the train ride back to the city.



I wanted to mention before heading to Bolivia, that I visited a number of museums in Peru and was shocked at what I found. The majority were run down, damp churches cluttered with tattered, unlit, unframed, unmarked canvases. And not only were the majority of the pieces in terrible condition --probably worse than I was able to tell since they were lit by nothing more than one tiny light bulb per room-- but in about half, visitors were allowed to take photographs of the art. I couldn't bring myself to photograph any of the older works, but when I visited the contemporary art museum, I snapped a few of the more interesting pieces.



This museum was set up differently from the others in the sense that it had an open-air courtyard half-filled with art, and half-filled with a Bonsai Tree collection. And while I found the collection rather impressive, I was confused as to its relation to the rest of the surrounding art work.

Next stop...Bolivia
--Bolivia didn't contain much excitement, so instead of another intermission, I'm going to plow through--

As I said, Bolivia wasn't particularly exciting --not to mention I was running out of steam at this point and la Paz is one of the highest cities in the world...so the altitude made physical activity a bit more difficult than usual-- but it did have one particular sight that I was looking forward to visiting: The Witches' Market. I really had no idea if the market would be all that I had hoped --I was envisioning little old ladies in tiny shops filled with random potions and herbs and such-- but I had to go to find out.

I was slightly disappointed with the market...sadly. there were only a few shops with actual "witchy" items and the rest were mostly filled with the usual trinkets and clothing of the country. The few shops that were "witchy", however, were quite astonishing. I only dared to go into one since the women outside the doors were waving things in the air and attempting to convince anyone and everyone to enter, but that one was enough. It was a creaky wood-floored room with high ceilings. The walls were lined with wooden shelves stuffed with bottles and tins and statues and candles of all different shapes and sizes and colors. And to top it all off...they sold llama fetus'. And not just any old llama fetus mind you...they sold shriveled llama fetus'. And you had the choice of hairless or not...eeee --i passed on that one in case you were wondering...didn't think i could get it back across the border.



One other thing that I found in Bolivia --la Paz to be exact-- was the familiar broken glass lined walls. I'm beginning to see that this is a South American thing and not just Chilean.



Well...I think that about concludes my trip to the north --finally...i know. I'll leave you with an image I took on my way back home from Peru (on another 2 day journey)...enjoy!!!

From the Desert to Peru...


Yes yes...I'm finally continuing with my travel stories from almost two weeks ago. I'll attempt to spare you a play by play with the boring details and stick to the interesting parts with the assistance of pictures.



So first off, this was the hostel in Cusco Peru. Leaving the desert was more of a relief than anything. The day of the 2 day bus journey (yes...it took two days in a bus to get from the desert to Cusco), San Pedro ran out of water. When we arrived at Cusco we were excited for water, but then got the shock of our lives to find out that water was short there as well. Not as scarce, obviously, but the water did cut out about once every night or so.

So Peru had a lot to offer in the way of Incan ruins. And by the time we left the country, I was actually rather Incaed out. The Incas were extremely intelligent (in case you didn't already know) and have left behind amazing constructions. They worshipped their gods and held animals in the highest regards. Four animals appeared repeatedly throughout the ruins I visited: 1 the llama, which was used in a number of rituals including sacrificial ceremonies, and was considered one of the most important animals; 2 the condour, which represents peace; 3 the serpent of intelligence; 4 the puma, which represents strength.




I was rather impressed with the Incan sculpting skills --and their architecture as well...Obviously-- but I was rather taken aback by one of the rituals I heard about. Apparently they used to cover these rather fun looking, slide-like structures in oil --but they didn't slide down them as I would imagine...the men would have to scale them in order to win a wife. Rather barbaric if you ask me...although I suppose we have similar rituals still today, just on a different scale.



When the Spanish arrived in South America, they destroyed all of the Incan's architecture. This picture is of what used to be a staircase before the Spanish flipped it upside down. The Incan structures that still remain are astounding as it is, but I can't even imagine what they were like back when they existed in their entirety.





I was fortunate enough to have time in our trip --well actually it was the reason we went to Peru...but still-- to visit Machu Picchu, the only Incan structure that was never found by the Spanish, and thus the only structure left to change by nature alone. And thank goodness it was. The site is absolutely breathtaking. It makes the 3 hour train ride worth every minute. I've seen postcards and photographs of Machu Picchu before, but it's completely different to be standing in the midst of the ruins, looking out into the expansive nothingness that surrounds the area. Every photograph turned out beautifully, which has nothing to do with photographic skills, but everything to do with the landscape.



At the top of one of look-out points, Mark and I left our own little mark amoung the stacked pebbles that tourists had left behind. I chose to display my newfound knowledge and leave behind a serpent along with a small stone bridge construction. The stacked pabbles actually did originate from the Incas and their travels across the desert. They would leave behind stacks of rocks to mark areas with underground water currents and animal territories for hunting knowledge. Tourists have of course taken the idea and used it in a "Bob was here" sort of fashion, but its origins are still well rooted in the Incan past.





If you take note of that particularly large mountain in the background of the last picture, I would like to proudly state that I climbed to the very top during my trip. While wandering around the ruins, we came upon an old man of about 65 or 70 years with his granddaughter of about 23 years (or maybe it was his daughter...I just assumed...). We had a brief conversation about the ruins and then were informed of their morning trek to the top. Mark and I looked skeptically at the mountain off in the distance, but upon hearing that the old man had made it to the top in only a little over an hour, we decided to go for it. So with the image of the old man in our minds, we headed up the mountain...



INTERMISSION....
--I think a page break here would be a good idea...go get some coffee or something...or maybe soup since i think it's kinda cold back in michigan--

Concerts in Chile with its chicos and chicas...

Last night, I surprised myself by winding up at the Robbie Williams concert here in Santiago. Two of my roommates really like him (Paula, from Columbia and Sarah from England), and both of them actually know a good majority of his songs --I was actually only surprised by Paula knowing his songs, but the amount of shock I had made up for the lack there of in relation to Sarah's knowledge. So they both wanted to go to the concert, and I figured I might as well join them. I don't know more than one or two of songs, but the concert was still rather entertaining. The best part was, however, watchign him speak english to a spanish speaking crowd. I've always wondered how people who don't speak english can really go to a concert of an english speaking artist. I know that music transcends languages and all that, but there's still the time between songs when the artist is on stage speaking...what actually happens when the artist and the crowd don't speak the same language??? Well I found out. The artist tries his best to speak what little he knows while the audience just stares. You could tell that the crowd didn't understand all that he said because he would tell a joke, and only a small portion of the crowd would actually laugh. The only times the crowd went crazy were when he said either "Chile", "chicos" or "chicas." It was rather interesting to watch the faces of the people around me as they tried to figure out what else he was saying. Now I'm left to wonder how he actually felt standing in front of a crowd, not knowing for sure how much of his speaking the crowd actually understood...does it make this worse because the crowd isn't getting the "full effect", or is it still ok for him because he knows that these people still really love his music even though its not in their language either...

A lot of hot air...


Next stop in the desert was the geysers, and imagine my surprise when I found traces of the United States. And by traces, I mean remains. Aparently years ago, the United States sent scientists into Chile to run tests on the geyser activities. But they didn't intend on the temperatures being as hot as they were, so their machinery become rusted and worthless. But instead of cleaning up our mess, we just left the equipment there to become an eye sore in the otherwise gorgeous geyser field. Go America...
After the main geyser field, we headed to the field with the larger geysers. And by larger, I do mean larger. We were introduced to the "Killer Geyser" (translated of course). THis geyser was enormous!!! So enormous, in fact, that people have actually fallen into it and died. About a year ago, a man fell in, only to be pulled out and taken to the hospital, where he died a short while later. Now granted the man was stupid enough to have run onto the very small and thin strip that separated the two halves of the geyser, causing it collapse...but still...the geyser is a killer. Sarah and I took the opportunity to attempt to be amusing and take a photograph of our "melting legs" in front of the geyser...

After the geysers, it was back to San Pedro by way of a particularly long trip through the desert for some more spectacular scenery. I'll wrap up this leg of my journey with this last two images... the road we travelled on back to San Pedro, and a shot of one of the streets on the outskirts of San Pedro.

Salt and The Sound of Music...


So The next little tour of my journey included a trip to the salt flats in the Atacama Desert. And let me just say that when they say salt flat, they mean salt flat. When we stepped out of the van, it was salt as far as the eye can see. It was like standing on the shore to the ocean and seeing nothing but the water until it meets the horizon --but with salt of course. And surprisingly enough, the salt flat is also the national flamingo reserve. So while wandering through the constructed paths, one was able to see wild flamingos just hanging out in the many little ponds that scatter the flats.

The salt flat was amazing in the sense that it was this huge expanse of protected land that is virtually untouched by man. But what I found myself bothered by was the fact that there were constructed paths leading through the flats. Now I understand that one has to be able to walk through the flats somehow, so it's better to have restricted paths that one must walk on, but at the same time, I was bothered by the fact that they broke up the expansive mass of salt. Then again...I found myself fascinated by the juxtoposition of the man-made, smoothed out paths, separated from the natural sea of salt by constructed salt, rock walls.
After the salt flats we headed to two large lagoons. The drive provided some amazing scenery such as this...
From a distance, the yellow grass you see here make the mountains look like they're covered in a yellow sand. I was surprised to find that the color was actually produced by these little tiny yellow clumps of grass. Walking out of the van, I actually felt like I had stepped into a scene from The Sound of Music or something. I actually spun around and started singing at one point.
Once we got to the lagoon, I once again felt as though I were stepping into another time and place. But instead of stepping into a scene from The Sound of Music, I felt as though I had stepped into a photograph from National Geographic. I actually was immediately reminded of a one of the three National Geographic books I own that has a photographic very similar to this one somewhere in its pages. I always thought that the colors had to have been altered to appear so bright, but I now know that waters that blue really do exist...