Papi was always a devout Catholic. Church every single Sunday.
A few years ago Papi saw a lady in the middle of the street that had just gotten hit by a car… He saw my mother and frantically cried in the middle of the street making every bargain and promise to God to be good, stop his womanizing ways, if He spared Mami.
“It’s not Milagros! It’s not your wife!” his friend yelled. This was his sign.. and shortly thereafter he converted…
As it happens, because you never know what is awaiting you around the corner…you run into a free drawing class at The Metropolitan Museum. You grab a pencil and start doing something… you don’t even remember when was the last time you did it…and then you feel connected, you found yourself a bit more free from yourself
For mami, the states was “la ultima coca cola en el desierto” (the last coca-cola in the desert). The best thing in the world. Her intentions were to come to the states and study medicine, but after a few months she realized not knowing the English language meant being stuck with the worst jobs. “Ni en la bodega se hablaba Español.” You wouldn’t hear Spanish, not even in the grocery stores.
She began the first 20 years in the states working in sewing factories, but once all those jobs were outsourced the next step was to become a home health aid.
Her morning routine always requires the same ritual. She gets up AT LEAST 4 hours before she needs to be at work. Then she leaves at least an hour and a half before her twelve hour shift. Even if it only takes her 30 minutes to get there, she still leaves way too early.
20 years after starting her new job, my mom is a 64 year old home health aid still working 12 hour shifts, considering if she should push her retirement in order to help make ends meet.
This photograph was taken at an orthodox jewish wedding I shot at the Crowne Plaza right off the highway between the city of Montreal and the Pierre Elliot Trudeau International Airport. The younger sister of the groom (photographed) was staring at her reflection of the pool and isolating herself from the rest of the children. She told me she hates meeting new people and I told her, so do I.
“The first couple of vertical rows are essays and theory and criticism, the next two are works on art movements and collections, then there are monographs generally by artist’s last name, but not exact because the shelves are varying heights, so they dance around alpha order a bit. After that, are books on photo books and other publications, and then cinema and, finally, a section on New York books [with a growing Harlem section]. Not everything fits in the living room shelves… Bookmaking, Japan, textiles and needlework are in my studio; cookbooks and philosophy in the kitchen; and Czech and Slovak art and history, literature, artist books, enigmatic books [mainly thrift store finds], and DVDs are in the bedroom. Cinema and New York will be moving out of the living room soon, as I need more shelf space!”
Read AI-AP’s full Q&A with Deirdre Donohue here.
Maurice Berger writes for the New York Times Lens Blog on recent ICP-Bard MFA alumnus Kim Weston‘s work:
“…Seen, Unseen, Ms. Weston’s contribution to her class’s thesis group show, focuses on her mother’s family in Cheraw, S.C. The artist, who is part African-American, Native American and Irish, initially found the process of photographing her relatives daunting. “I was afraid of violating their privacy. I didn’t want to be seen as exploiting them.”
Though she completed the series in relative secrecy — she told no one at school about it — she ultimately embraced it as a celebration of “the people who made me who I am'”
Read the full article here.