Almost every day, I wake up thinking how glad I am to live in Mexico.
I wake to the sight of the Pacific -- often sunny and calm, but, occasionally, a bit temperamental. Like a joyful spouse with a slight hormonal imbalance.
Just before Jiggs died, I started a series of photographs featuring a very Mexican gate in Melaque.
There is nothing extraordinary about the gate. It guards the entry to a small vegetable garden.
But the gate itself is very Mexican. A pastische of parts -- as if Rube Goldberg stopped by to lend a hand at international fence-mending. It is a combination of plastic pipe, sticks, lumber scraps, and metal.
Not designed to last. But it has form and texture. In short, it is the very essence of a gate in art form.
I could claim that high deconstructionism attracted me to the spot. That would be a lie.
The gate intrigues me because it is an apt symbol of where I am in my life.
Do I stay where I am? Or do I accept the White Rabbit's temptation to strike out for more adventures?
If I do not find a place to live after mid-December, circumstances will make the choice for me.
But that is a post for later this week.
Until then, I will wake up in my bed with the Pacific as my background.
I wake to the sight of the Pacific -- often sunny and calm, but, occasionally, a bit temperamental. Like a joyful spouse with a slight hormonal imbalance.
Just before Jiggs died, I started a series of photographs featuring a very Mexican gate in Melaque.
There is nothing extraordinary about the gate. It guards the entry to a small vegetable garden.
But the gate itself is very Mexican. A pastische of parts -- as if Rube Goldberg stopped by to lend a hand at international fence-mending. It is a combination of plastic pipe, sticks, lumber scraps, and metal.
Not designed to last. But it has form and texture. In short, it is the very essence of a gate in art form.
I could claim that high deconstructionism attracted me to the spot. That would be a lie.
The gate intrigues me because it is an apt symbol of where I am in my life.
Do I stay where I am? Or do I accept the White Rabbit's temptation to strike out for more adventures?
If I do not find a place to live after mid-December, circumstances will make the choice for me.
But that is a post for later this week.
Until then, I will wake up in my bed with the Pacific as my background.
