Where Am I?

In a perpetual state of nothingness.

On April 7th I hosted a show in my apartment. The excitement was so much I forgot where my tripod was and did what I could. This was not my first time hosting an artshow but this time I wanted to try something different. This time I wanted to use all the room space rather than jus hanging a bunch of prints on a wall; this time I wanted to do my art in 3D. It was no easy task, usually my attempts of installation art end up in disappointment.

I wanted to give this piece the feeling of an altar and as I kept working and drafting how the piece would look, it kept evolving. The only thing that was persistent was my choice of materials and the thought of remembering those innocent lives we’ve lost through out the years. My focus tends to be the spoils of war, and so it was for this installation. I managed to get little lights I could introduce intro the paper-maché pear-shaped lanterns. To me this was a symbology to mourn for the souls of those sacrificed in war and finally free them from humanity’s burdens. I got the idea from the asian custom of lighting up water lanterns and have them drift away in the river to guide wandering spirits as well as the Mexican tradition to put up altars for the dead in November.

What's wrong with this picture? Well technically, nothing. But let's back up a little. Those young adults out there know what it's like to rent an apartment and having to deal with the tiny little things that happen here and there. Sheesh, we often have to find a way around them to live by, sometimes we don't have the time to report it to the landlord so it's easy to let a few things slip by. Well this time ... this time. Oh gosh. I have the feeling my landlord thinks I'm stupid or something. So I report a problem with the AC ... As explained above and see what his request is?! "Leave it off until tomorrow" As in, don't leave it on ... As in, "this chick could be stupid enough to leave a non-working unit on for a whole day and mess it up even more." Is it the tone implied? Is it the hair? Whatever it is, I know people lack common sense, but this much? And why would anybody think it’s OK to leave a non-working AC on?  WHATEVER it is landlord, you worry about my stuff and I'll worry about mine. Thank you. 

Long time ago, before I had any awareness I had any writing skills, I managed to write something meani gful that would forever change the way I write. This story is based on true events, and I narrate as much of it that I can remember. I leave here a short preview of “Whimper” the tale of a modern woman in Mexico.

“ Hear my voice, say my name, Feel my pain. And tell no one that I was here … because I was never here”

Those were her last words, at least the last that I can remember of her. Almost six years since I last saw her and I can still remember the high-pitched tone of her voice, her laughter, her long blonde hair, her eyes full of sorrow.

You were the seventh child of seven, and everyone was jealous of your pale, white skin and blonde hair. Your mother had a hard time taking care of all your brothers and sisters, she had moved to a big city and she had to work nightshifts as a nurse. Your father was absent in that family of eight and your older siblings were too busy taking care of their own businesses. You would always be alone, because nobody wanted to be with your so you had to look for your own people to hang out with. That was no problem. No, not for you. You loved your family; it did not matter.

…

You disappeared four years after you had his son, I did not know where you went or how to find you. Is it a blackout? I do not remember when you gave birth to your daughter, his daughter. Were you at the hospital by yourself that time too? I saw you when your daughter was two years old and your son was six. Your daughter looked just like you as a brunette. She filled you with happiness and your partner would give you whatever you wanted. He even bought a house next to your mother’s so you could be with her, because he knew how much you loved your mother. He started buying cars and expensive furniture, we never asked any questions. Although your smile seemed to be fake, you were happy with your kids, I know you were. You were content with your life at that point but those bruises would not go away. And yet, nobody knew.

I started noticing that your smile had faded and the bruises in your body were more noticeable than they used to be. You would visit us more often, however, you would only come to visit my mother; she was your oldest sister and you needed to talk to her while your kids would stay in my room watching TV. I once sneaked to the kitchen, where you and my mother used to talk, and I saw you sobbing for the first time. What happened? I looked closely and I noticed a big bruise in your left eye. You lived next to your mother, and yet nobody knew.

Your sister and I went to visit you on that terrible night. We waited for you to come out of your house and when you finally went outside, your sister noticed something weird was going on in your house. You said you were having an argument with the father of your kids “but it’s not relevant,” you said. We believed you and left without knowing that would be the last time anybody would see you.

…

A sneak peek of next batch of images.