The piece is Hal Marcus' "Avenida Juarez". I first saw a copy of it propped up against the wall in Anneka's bedroom. She'd found it hidden in the closest while she was moving in and decided that it needed a little more appreciation. I have to concur.
It may look like a work of exotification, but in its details I see some part of each of my days here. There are the children being watched over by loving, tired mothers; there is the old man who needs a cane to walk across the bridge; there are the Indigenous, the hotels, the bars, the stores and the prostitutes catering to tourists; there are the beggars huddled on doorsteps; there is the little boy selling chicles to survive; there is the rich Mexican youth scanning the crowd to see who he can seduce with his American clothes; there, all four of them proud of their conquests, is the guero youth with his morena and the Mexican macho with his guera; there is the sign for the fruit smoothies that keep you going on the hot days; there are the musicians that amble up and down the streets seeking tips for their ballads; there is the pointed but pointless presence of the policeman; there is the bridge, sucking everything northward; there are the cars blasting music as they wait to cross; and there are the mountains and the stars.
Staring at this image that so aptly captures both the tragedy and artistic beauty of this place, I’m forced to wonder… From this place where the harshness of our world’s reality confronts us every day in the same streets we sing and dance along by night… From this place where life’s poignant fragility incessantly reminds us to live to the fullest… How can I possibly return? It terrifies me: the possibility of returning mildly and quietly to a place where facing reality becomes a choice.
No hay comentarios.:
Publicar un comentario