Calle 13, "Latinoamérica"

December 4th, 2012

     I don't know if Professor Mack is just a clutch lecturer or what, but when  the "Humanities Hot Shots" of Brigham Young University show up to observe our classes with their fancy Sunday dress and massive vocabularies, he totally turns up the heat a bit and produces epic discussions. Great stuff. Today was one of my favorite classes of the entire semester and was that way because of the feelings that I had. Believe it or not, before I enrolled in this class, I had no idea what the Humanites actually were. If you had asked that I produce a simple definition of this field of study, I would have looked at you with only the blankest of stares. I now think, at least, that I understand a bit more. From what I have heard Professor Mack teach, I feel like the humanities help us better come to understand the quality of being human and identify with what makes us human beings.
     As taught today, oftentimes we analyze a work of art, whether it be poetry, a novel, a painting, or something else, and attempt to find concrete answers yet, in other cases, the way that we feel can be the most special of discoveries. Today's class was special for me because of the way that it made me think and feel, not only about Latin America, but about humankind, collectively. What spawned such emotions? Check it out:



 

( Calle 13, "Latinoamérica" )

 



     This song could not be any more appropriately titled. What I most love about this song is how it encompases all of the various "flavors" of Latin America. The music video portrays beautifully the most popular languages of Latin America - Indigenous dialects, Spanish, and Portuguese. The people, though both humble and simple, are presented beautifully as hard-working individuals who take a great deal of pride in knowing who they are and where they come from.

     "Residente," the lead singer of Calle 13, in speaking aobut Latin America stated, "Latin America looks prettier from far away, but to know it, you have to get into it." The reason that we all, at least the majority of us taking Latin American Humanities with Professor Mack, feel such an emotional tie to this song is because of that getting "into it." Scholastically speaking, most students of Latin America study the history of the region, the political background, culture, and people, then confirm their studies through either a study abroad program or an internship. For our unique demographic, it's the complete reverse. LDS missionaries get to know the "heart" of the region. The people, their customs, their trials and difficulties all create that heart that continually beats. During the music video, as the heart is symbolically planted in the ground and begins to grow, one of the female vocalists sings repeatedly, "Vamos caminando! Aquí se respira lucha!" That's what we came to know as missionaries in Latin America and what we fell in love with, not the commercial, tourist cites created for the appeal of cruise-ship travelers, but the people themselves. The reality of their existence.

 

 

     I'm not from Latin America, but can relate to the unity that this song displays. For me, as a U.S. citizen, I feel inspired to reach out to those that surround me, whatever their background may be, and help them onward in life. Though our backgrounds may be distinct, we are all united as human beings, and in that sense, share one heart.

 



     (K'naan, "Wavin' Flag" - similar theme of UNITY)

Sandra Cisneros, "The Houe on Mango Street"

November 28th, 2012

     The epic duo of Bless Me, Ultima and The House on Mango Street have really made for some incredible reads in the last couple of weeks. Our previous assigned readings had me a bit worried a month ago or so, but Brother Mack has proved himself a champion once again with the quick read that is, The House on Mango Street. What I am most enjoying about these books is the fact that they are written by adults through the eyes of a child well positioned in the path of growing up. I am fascinated by that perspective. Having completed childhood not so long ago (my mother would argue differently), I feel almost caught out in "no mans land." Stuck in between seasoned adulthood and childhood-like innocence. Allow me to use the following quote to explain:

"In the movies there is always one with red red lips who is beautiful and cruel. She is the one who drives the men crazy and laughs them all away. Her power is her own. She will not give it away. I have begun my own quiet war. Simple. Sure. I am one who leaves the table like a man, without putting back the chair or picking up the plate."

(Sandra Cisneros, The House on Mango Street, 89)

 



     One of the outlying themes of The House on Mango Street is that of identity. In the case of Esperanza, she is a young, immigrant girl trying to make a comfortable world for herself in the bussle of a large city like Chicago. Who she is and who she will become are greatly influenced by both the place in which she lives and the many interesting people that surround her. It seems that Esperanza has an opinion on just about everyone that she has ever seen. Friends, neighbors, employers, co-workers, and even family members are constantly being identified, at least in the mind of Esperanza, for their outstanding physical, mental, or social characteristics. At times, that may be justified, however, constant comparison appears to be the preferred method of the young immigrant.

     In the aforementioned quote, Esperanza expresses her desire to be unlike, in this case, the women that she has come to know as a young girl. She, in an attempt to find her place in her new world, wants to "leave the mold" and become something else. At this time, she is most drawn to the rebellious attitudes and lifestyles of Hollywoods famous actresses. She will no longer conform, but become her own woman. In her own words, this decision was perfectly "Simple" and "Sure."
 

     Adolescence is an extremely confusing, yet important formative period for a youth in which experimentation often occurs. In my own opinion, middle schoolers are just the weirdest demographic of people on earth. If we could do away with that phase of life, I think we might all be a bit better off. While reading, however, The House on Mango Street and thinking about what it's like to decide what one will become, I thought about society's great outliers and how their formative years and desire for something, "fresh" and "rebellios" lead them to great things. With such a positive impact either made or being made, history and pop culture provide us with names such as Abraham Lincoln, Steve Jobs, and Mother Teresa. Their youtful rebellions or lack of conformity to the status quo led them to greatness whether that meant sneaking into a university library early to computer program or renouncing inherited wealth to lead a life of impoverished service, Esperanza's desire is both natural and necessary. Nontheless, on the flip side of things, it's easy to overindulge and negatively stray from the shining path - Macaulay Culkin, Jerry Rubin, Marilyn Manson, Dennis Rodman, etc. The list is endless.

    With greatness and large-scale contribution hanging in the balance, is an adolescent questioning of one's own identity imperative to making a difference and becoming an outlier?

Rudolfo Anaya, "Bless Me, Ultima" (Part Trois)

November 17th, 2012

     I was totally thrown a curveball by Professor Mack when he revealed to the class that we would be responsible for both a new blog entry and "tweet analysis" over Thanksgiving break, but if it's one more opportunity to write about Bless Me, Ultima, I suppose that that's just an opportunity that must be seized. On the positive side, I have now finished the novel and have been able to piece together what I truly feel about Anaya's work. In my opinion, the following simple quote summarizes what Anaya wants the reader to take from Bless Me, Ultima ....

     My mother and I stumbled down the hill. I did not think she or my father understood what the owl's death meant, and I who shared the mystery with Ultima shuddered at what I would find. We rushed into the still house. "Mama!" Deborah cried. She held trembling Theresa. "It is all right," she reassured them, "it is over." "Take them to their room."I said to my mother. It was the first time I had ever spoken to my mother as a man: she nodded and obeyed.

(Rudolfo Anaya, Bless Me, Ultima, 259)

 



     After all of the discussion that we had in class, I think that it's easy to see the symbolism behind the various seasons, locations, and characters. Many parallels are drawn to Christ and his life throughout the novel as well (this always seems to be the case), yet for me that has never really been the main issue with Anaya's message. I felt an extremely strong connection, while reading and learning more about the characters, with Antonio and his journey towards a loss of innocence. That may appear to be an odd message for an author to transmit, but the losing of one's innocence does not necessarily imlpy the falling into sin or loss of one's soul. For Antonio, innocence is gradually lost as manhood increases within Antonio.

 

     Think of the events that transpired in the life of Antonio that form a troublesome childhood - the deaths of three men, continual peer abuse, the weight of adult dreams resting squarely on his shoulders, school, religous confusion, and the knowlege of Ultima's true identity and supernatural superiority. Of all of these events, one of the most impactful for Antonio had to be when he discovered the immorality of Andrew. Symbolically, Antonio's world had come crashing down. I easily identified with Antonio in that when I was younger I remember clearly looking at my parents and thinking that they were superheros. Invinsible! Nothing could hold them back and they could do no wrong! As maturation began to take hold, however, I realized that that was not the case. Illness, depression, pain, suffering, anguish and life's typical troubles afflict all and parents of the world are not immune. I suppose that to a certain degree it was assumed that when I returned from my mission, I knew something about the world because the relationship that my mother and I had completely changed. For the first time in my life she looked to me for advice on specific matters. It was almost as if we were equals. In my mind, that couldn't be further from the truth, but my mother really was needing of help and to her son she looked. Manhood, in our Mormon culture, is often thought to have been reached with the arrival of a mission call, yet, when the heros of my youth sought my counsel and applied it, in that moment I couldn't have felt more like a true man.

 

     The aforementioned quote embodies the manhood that was forced on Antonio by the events of his youth. Others had begun to look at Antonio as a priest of sorts. Physical prowess had already been reached in Antonios first fight and even in the winning of his first foot-race over the infamous bridge. Farming and manual labor had become a way for Antonio to pass his summers. That being said, Antonio's journey towards a premature manhood comes full circle with the acceptance by his mother of him as an equal and decision maker.

Rudolfo Anay, "Bless Me, Ultima" (Part Deux)

Joe and Simon ("Simon Birch")

November 13th, 2012

     With one week's worth of reading, I have made a substantial amount of progress with Bless Me, Ultima and will go as far as deeming it the best novel that I have read in my short, but reading-filled collegiate career. That's high praise coming from someone who has never been a huge fan of reading. In today's class anlysis, we focused primarily on the sensory aspect of Anaya's Chicano classic. To be honest with you, that connection was one that I had never made and was one that really didn't appeal to me all that much. Antonio's battle to decypher the happy medium between satisfying his young, Catholic ideals and newfound, "seeing is believing" pagan beliefs is nothing short of incredible and connects with me, as the reader, on a personal level. Take for example the brief conversation between Antonion and his new "pagan-priest" of sorts, Samuel:

     "The golden carp," I said to myself, "a new god?" I could not believe this strange story, and yet I could not disbelieve Samuel, "Is the golden carp still here?"
     "Yes," Samuel answered. His voice was strong with faith. It made me shiver, not because it was cold but because the roots of everything I had ever believed in seemed shaken. If the golden carp was a god, who was the man on the cross? The Virgin? Was my mother praying to the wrong God?

(Rudolfo Anaya, Bless Me, Ultima, 81)

 



     It seems like everyone is able to tie in our assigned readings into movies like "Avatar" or "Inception." Neither of those movies have I seen and I'm not really a huge fan of movie watching. That being said, this novel makes me think so much of my favorite movie, "Simon Birch." "Simon Birch" is the story of two boyhood friends, Joe and Simon, who are considered by the other citizens of their small New England town to be outcasts. Simon is plagued by a peculiar bone disease that makes him greatly smaller than the rest of his peers. As if the teasing and jeers of those that surround him aren't enough, one Summer day in 1964, Simon accidentally hits a foul ball that strikes Joe's mother in the head, killing her on impact. The movie tells the tale of how both boys, with age, begin to lose their innocence and even go as far to discover that Joe is an illegitimate child, fathered by the town's very own priest. Both Simon and Joe question their identities as they discover more about where they have come and begin to negatively view the faith in which they have matured over the years. Simon's continual source of peace is a firm belief that God has put him on earth to be a hero and fulfill his destiny. 

     Just as Antonio struggled to find the balance between Catholicism and paganism, Simon Birch and Joe attempted to justify who they in the eyes of God despite what others say about where they had come from. Simon clings to the belief that God has a special purpose for him on earth and has given him a small frame specifically so that he can fulfill his life's calling, even when the town priest continually attempts to tear down Simon's faith. Likewise, Antonio finds solace in the unseen powers of Ultima, even though her methods often bring him confusion in regards to the power of a God that appears to be powerless under the authority of the Catholic church.

     Mother Teresa of Calcutta had a similar "trial of faith" or life-altering doubt that caused a great deal of turmoil within her personal thoughts. Mother Teresa died the 5th of September, 1997 and after several months investigating her private journals it became public knowledge that for a number of decades Mother Teresa experienced a crisis of faith. In her own words, "Jesus has a very special love for you," she assured a fellow christian. "[But] as for me, the silence and the emptiness is so great, that I look and do not see, — Listen and do not hear — the tongue moves [in prayer] but does not speak ... I want you to pray for me — that I let Him have [a] free hand." Very similar feelings were felt by both Antonio and Simon. For me, both the novel and the movie propose an interesting question: Is doubt an essential step in the path leading to true faith?

 

(Simon's foul ball kills Joe's mother)

Rudolfo Anaya, "Bless Me, Ultima"

November 6th, 2012

     When I told my roommate that I was going to be reading Bless Me Ultima by Rudolfo Anaya, a book that he had read his freshman year of high school, I was bombarded with nothing but negative comments and predictions of future visits to Sparknotes in search of refuge from mind-numbing literature. With bruises still visible from my experiences with Iracema, reluctancy crept over me as I opened the book and scanned over those first few pages. However, to my surprise, I found the first seven chapters of Anaya's novel to be extremely down to earth, reader-friendly, and engaging for the reader in the sense that Anaya really helped me find and identify the similarities between my own life and Chicano culture.

     "My father's dream was to gather his sons around him and move westward to the land of the setting sun, to the vineyards of California. But the war had taken his three sons and it had made him bitter. He often got drunk on Saturday afternoons and then he would rave against old age. He would rage against the town on the opposite side of the river which drained a man of his freedom, and he would cry because the war had ruined his dream. It was very sad to see my father cry, but I understood it, because sometimes a man has to cry. Even if he is a man."

(Rudolfo Anaya, Bless Me, Ultima, 14-15)

 

     For me, tears have always been an interesting thing. I have never been a horribly emotional person. The women of my family have always been the type of people that wear their emotions on their sleeves and are never afraid of putting the "waterworks" on display for all to see. As a missionary, in the Missionary Training Center and also the mission field, I experienced frequent displays of emotion, namely crying, on a consistent basis for really the first time in my life. I was often so overcome by the kinds of experiences that I was having, both positive and negative, that my pride and attempt to maintain a respectable level of "manhood" came crumbling down. As others around me, investigators and members alike, spoke of life's ups and downs and the various things that had happened to them, it was amazing to watch the physical manifestation of a deeper, inner feeling come forth. It's as if tears are nature's way of humbling her inhabitants. A man can deny what he feels until the tear makes its way from the duct to the cheek, providing sufficient evidence for all to see that something very real and deep is ocurring. There is no denying what others can see.
 

     Now for the fun part: Metallica. Forget the Disney songs that so many of us seem to be able to tie in to Latin American Humanities, Metalica's "One" could not be any more relevant. Looking beyond the power chords, long hair, and shredded jeans, "One" tells an extremely interesting tale of a war-torn soldier and his fight for happiness in a future lifestyle that will have little to offer him. While fighting in World War I, his face is blown off  by a mortar which deprives him of his ability to hear, see, smell, and taste. Finding himself with no arms or legs, he is consigned to a hospital bed where he spends his days reflecting on his life and the things that his father had taught him. Doctors are stunned by his frequent "spasms" that, oddly enough, don't seem to be harming his health. In an attempt to better understand the apparent medical phenomenon, the soldier's general is called in to see what he can do. As the general and a soldier accompanying him enter, immediately a spasm occurs. After a few minutes of continued movements, the accompanying soldier realizes that there is no spasm. The wounded soldier had been using morse code to communicate with the hospital staff. His message? K-I-L-L-M-E.
 

     From what I have read thus far in Bless Me Ultima, the war (WWII) is viewed as a curse of sorts that changes both men's desires and who they are. Immediately after the aforementioned quote was given by Antonio's father, Gabriel, Lupito kills Chavez. In search of an explanation for the sudden tragedy, Gabriel says: "Ay que Lupito, the war made him crazy." Just as Gabriel is brought low by what appears at this point to be a shattered dream, so to was the nameless soldier whose fortune would never change. Two men, humbled by life's challenges, were forced to sacrifice their "manhood" and submit to the will of a higher power.

 



    

     (Metallica, "ONE" - watch this video and this whole thing will make a lot more sense)

 



Alejo Carpentier, "The Kingdom of This World"

October 31st, 2012

     "The Kingdom of This World" by Alejo Carpentier, has to be the strangest novel that I have ever read during my collegiate career here at Brigham Young University. I appreciated how quick of a read the book was, but was a bit thrown of by the sensual content and "real, in-your-face" subject matter. What was both difficult and interesting for me, as the reader, were the feelings that Carpentier evoked inside of me in regards to slaves and their own acts of immoral rebellion. Never before had I attempted to look at the world from a slave's perspective. A world filled with sorrow, anguish, temptation, sorcery, and the ever allusive appeal of freedom. What most drew me in and what will serve as the basis of this blog post was Ti Noel's ability to, near the end of the novel, relate better with his prior slave owners and view the masses as they most certainly did.
     After having mastered the ability to transform into animals, just as his hero Macandal had done, Ti Noel makes a realization with what appears to, in my opinion, yield a double meaning. The narrator explains:

     "Once he had come to this decision, Ti Noel was astonished a thow easity it is to turn into an animal when one has the necessary powers."

(Alejo Carpentier, The Kingdom of This World, 172)

     Further on, after having experimented with numerous transformations, Noel finds himself living for a brief period amongst a group of geese. Upon attempting to establish himself as a goose like unto the rest of the geese, "he encountered (nothing but) sawtoothed beaks and outstretched necks that kept him at a distance." Knowing for himself that he was, in fact, their superior as a wildlife transformer, the narrator describes Noel's thoughts and feelings stating that:

     "Thus Ti Noel quickly gathered that even if he persisted in his efforts for years, he would never be admitted in any capacity to the rites and duties of the clas. It had been made crystal clear to him that being a goose did not imply that all geese were equal."

(Alejo Carpentier, The Kingdom of This World, 177)

 

     The first time that I read the quote found on page 172, I interpreted it just as I suppose that most people do the first time they read it. Literally, it was easier to transform into any animal after having found the necessary powers. Upon further interpretation, I felt differently, however. As Ti Noel, increased in power and dominion over those that surrounded him (his ability to transform into animals whenever desired), he became more "animal-like." He became more primitive, domineering, and inclined to seek that which benefitted him over the needs of the group.

     Noel's brief experience as a goose solidifies the previoulsy mentioned opinion in that, just as his previous masters had felt, being like the masses does not necessarily denote natural equality among the group. In Noel's own life, Dominicans, Haitians, slaves, and slave owners alike were all human beings, yet, with the societies social parameters soundly established, suddenly Dominicans were of a higher status than Haitians and slaves at the bottom of all social castes. Perhaps, Noel, at the end of his life in the ACTUAL Kingdom of This World found his ultimate happiness in a higher level of understanding. Understanding of mother nature, society and it's institutions, and man as a whole.

 

**** Philip Zimbardo's Stanford Prison Experiment ****

 

     "Heroes are those who can somehow resist the power of the situation and act out of noble motives, or behave in ways that do not demean others when they easily can."

                                                                                                   - Philip Zimbardo





     



 

    

 

Jorge Luis Borges, "The Garden of Forking Paths"

October 24th, 2012

(Not a traitor. Great salsa dancer.)

     When Professor Mack said that upon reading the short stories of Jorge Luis Borges that our "minds would be blown," I have to admit that I was a bit skeptical. As a newbie to the world of the humanities I have learned a great deal about art and the interpretation therof, literature, and even music from time to time (my hips don't lie). Above all else, I feel that one of the most important things that I have learned is how to think in a completely new way that I had never previoulsy discovered. That being said, the prophesy of Professor Mack would come to prove itself truthful. My mind was blown. Take for example this exchange between Stephen Albert and Yu Tsun in the actual garden of Jorge Luis Borges', The Garden of Forking Paths:
 

“In all of them,” I enunciated, with a tremor in my voice. “I deeply appreciate and am grateful to you for the restoration of Ts’ui Pen’s garden.” “Not in all,” he murmured with a smile. “Time is forever dividing itself toward innumerable futures and in one of them I am your enemy.”

(Jorge Luis Borges, The Garden of Forking Paths, 100)

     The idea behind the garden of forking paths is one of bifurcation. Bifurcation is the splitting of time rather than space. Just as the multiple garden paths continue to exponentially fork, Ts'ui Pen, in both his novel and garden, presents a world where all possible outcomes, in any situation, reveal themselves no matter the apparent contradictory consequences. What makes the aformentioned quote all the more interesting is that, mid conversation with Yu Tsun, Stephen Albert applies the theory that he had just finished explaining, presenting the fact that he very well could be an enemy of his. Professor Mack put this literary skill of implementing an author's theory into his own plotline beautifully stating, "The form is in the content."

     It seemed like I never fully was able to understand exactly what Borges was talking about until the very end of his stories. I appreciated the closure that he offered and always looked forward to the conclusion knowing that he would reveal some nugget of information that would get me thinking. As Yu Tsun enters a world of alternative endings and finds himself with a man that inevitably must serve as both his friend and enemy, he shoots him. An abrupt ending to a splendid getaway, yet, it produced feelings of betrayal inside of me. Not that Albert had betrayed Tsun in any way, but the mere possibility was enough to push Tsun over the edge.

What famous examples of betrayal can the world and its very own history provide us with? Marcus Brutus and his betrayal of Julius Caesar in Rome on the Ides of March, Benedict Arnold and his sudden sympathy with the British, Lance Armstrong and his lack of honesty in regards to his "clean" Tour de France victories, and of course Hulk Hogan body slamming Andre the Giant in a complete and utter act of disgusting traitorship in 1987. However, no example matter the level of betrawal, no other comparison can even begin to identify to the severity of the "knife in the back" of Jesus Christ by one of the twelve, Judas of Iscariot.

     These decisions to "switch sides" and present something that could not be farther from the truth are made infamous by the nature of the trust between the traitor and the follower. As mentioned, Judas was entrusted by Christ with the sacred aposteship. Not even the highest of callings could persuade Judas to stay the course and follow the Savior of mankind. This ties in beautifully with The Garden of Forking Paths in that, although in this life not all outcomes will come into play, the ever-present factor of agency continually lingers over the heads of those that have already "pleadged allegiance" in one way or another. Borges attempts to portray this eternal principle subtly through an impossible scenario that, in reality, could never be closer the fence-sitter: The Power to Change. . . .  FOR BETTER OR FOR WORSE.

"There must be a positive and negative in everything in the universe in order to complete a circuilt or circle, without which there would be no activity, no motion."

                                                                          - John McDonald

("The Body Slam Heard Round the World"

 

 

 

    

    

Emilio Fernandez, "Maria Candelaria"

October 17th, 2012

     The only format in which I would feel comfortable citing, not only Twitter, but MY OWN tweet nontheless, would be for a blog for Professor Mack's Latin American Humanities class. Perhaps I wasn't thinking clearly, but I didn't think that, upon tweeting Professor Mack directly, he would bring it up in class the very next day . . . he did. This is the tweet: "@toddkmack Maria Candelaria is a grade A+ babe #modestishottest #nevernude #itscomplicated #ihum260." I was definately trying to be somewhat humerous, but it's true what I said. The topic of today's blog is that of BEAUTY and the way that director, Emilio Fernandez, presents the true beauty of Maria Candelaria in his film.



     Dolores del Rio is the actress that plays the role of Maria Candelaria (I will continue to refer to her by her full name because they refuse to do anything else in the movie). Clearly she is a physically attractive woman and, in that time period, was considered somewhat of an "exotic beauty." In order to more fully take advangtage of her appearance, Fernandez displays the beauty of the innocent, humble Maria Candelaria through various "framing" techneiques, as Professor Mack pointed out in class, and by way of frequent close-up shots to better accentuate the near perfect facial feature of Dolores del Rio.

     Apart from the obvious methods employed by Fernandez, symbolism was also a key component. I am just about the worst person when it comes to "reading into" works of art and discovering just what the author, director, or artist is trying to portray but I think that maybe, just maybe, Fernandez intentionally used THE FLOWER as a means of providing the viewer with an even deeper understanding of the real beauty of Maria Candelaria. Not only a beauty which appeals to the natural eye, but a beauty which lies much deeper, within Maria Candelaria. Maria Candelaria, by profession, sells flowers. Many times, unrightfully so, people are identified with what it is that they do to support themselves. In the case of Maria Candelaria's mother, something horrendous that ocurred years earlier would not only identify her for the rest of her life, but would follow the life of her daughter untill the very moment of her untimely death. The store owner is depended upon. The painter is respected and admired by all. Maria Candelaria is cast in a negative light because of her poverty and is nothing more than a flower saleswoman.
     Reflecting upon Maria Candelaria and her societal postition as "la Mujer de las Flores," my mind quickly thought of the ideal symbol of pure beauty: THE LOTUS FLOWER. As stated by a buddhist monk:

"The lotus flower is one of the most ancient and deepest symbols of our planet. The lotus flower grows in muddy water and rises above the surface to bloom with remarkable beauty. At night the flower closes and sinks underwater, at dawn it rises and opens again. Untouched by the impurity, lotus symbolizes the purity of heart and mind. This pattern of growth signifies the progress of the soul from the primeval mud of materialism, through the waters of experience, and into the bright sunshine of enlightenment." (http://jendhamuni.com/news/articles/lotusFlower.htm)


     Born and raised in the muddy waters of Xochimilco, Mexico, Maria Candelaria sprung up, just as the beautiful lotus flower does, "untouched by impurity." Beauty takes many forms, and in the cases of Maria Candelaria and the lotus flower, nearly finds perfection in innocence, communion, and redemption.

    

Juan Rulfo, "Tell Them not to Kill Me!"

October 10th, 2012

     Excited to return once again to The Oxford Book of Latin American Short Stories, I couldn't help but draw insights from it's content. This week's assigned reading came from the short story "Tell Them not to Kill Me!" by the famous Mexican author, Juan Rulfo.
    
     "His eyes, that had become squinty with the years, were looking down at the ground, here under his feet, in spite of the darkness. There in the earth was his whole life. Sixty years of living on it, of holding it tight in his hands, of tasting it like one tastes the flavor of meat. For a long time he'd been crumbling it with his eyes, savoring each piece as if it were the last one, almost knowing it would be the last."
 

(Juan Rulfo, The Oxford Book of Latin American Short Stories, 287)

 

     In this passage, Juvencio, a poor Mexican farmer who finds himself running from the law for a crime that he committed numerous years prior, expresses his utter disappointment for the inevitable fate that awaits him at the end of his death walk, through the land that he has worked througout his life. Clearly, it is a relationship of both love and hate. For more than sixty years Juvencio worked hard with the land and livestock that one day would be the ultimate cause of his murder and own execution. This "give and take" or "love and hate" relationship between mother earth and Juvencio was a risky one that is known all to well by countless farmers around the globe and can only be truly understood by those who lead this kind of lifestyle. As the words of a famous agrarian, revolutionary corrido state, "The Earth belongs to those who work it." (Dawn Ades, Art in Latin America, 165)

     Being from Oklahoma, I have had the opportunity to deal with many a farmer and speak with them about the ups and downs of making a living off the land. As I read this passage, my mind quickly reverted back to my second grade class when we studied on a basic level the history of Oklahoma. Oklahoma was founded and populated almost completely by the Land Run of 1889. Prosperity and fortune was the pursuit of these hard-working U.S. citizens and a life of diligent labor was expected in the hopes of obtaining a plentiful, subsistance-based living.

     Unfortunately for the "Sooners" of Oklahoma, the great and dreadful Dustbowl of 1934-1936 would soon hit and cause the same despair, helplessness, and state of panic that Juvencio displays walking towards his own execution as he reflects on the curse of the land that he lovingly gave his life to. I can only begin to imagine the feelings of self-loathing and pure frustration that filled the minds of those who gave all that they had to treck across the Great American Plains in order to establish, what was thought to be, a safe and sure future. As history, without fail, relates, a lack of understanding in regards to crop rotation, fallow fields, cover crops, and other techniques to prevent the further damning effects of wind erosion were not yet discovered and many lost all that they possessed.

     Unknown by many and eerily similar to the ultmate fate of Juvencio, tragedy trounced the hope of redemption and many young plainsmen found themselves taking their own lives, seeking refuge in suicide. Juvencio, on the other hand, was punished for his own actions. In both cases, the land or lack therof (Juvencio's animals grazing in the claimed pastures of another), led to the permanent demise of the individual and convalescent state that preceded that fall. Perhaps, in opposition to the aforementioned corrido, THE EARTH OWNS THOSE WHO WORK IT.



Joaquim Maria Machado de Assis, "Father versus Mother"

October 3rd, 2012

     I have been more than candid on this blog about my lack of passion in regards to the Humanities and have openly admitted that I am still trying to figure out exactly what it means to interpret famous works of Latin American art (I'm terrified of the fact that we are going to be listening to music tomorrow). The cultivation of that skill is one that surely takes a healthy amount of time. That being said, Tuesday's assigned reading was incredible. The short stories that we read were captivating, exciting, and full of suspense for the reader. Unfortunately, my favorite of the three short stories we read was not analyzed in class nor opened to discussion. Below is my favorite quote from that story, Joaquim Maria Machado de Assis', "Father versus Mother:"

     "As a matter of fact, Candido would have liked to have done something else. Not for the reason suggested by Aunt Monica, but for the simple pleasure of changing his trade. It would be a way of changing his skin or his personality. The trouble was, he did not know of a business he could learn fast."

(Joaquim Maria Machado de Assis, Father versus Mother, 92)

 

     Candidio, at this point in the story, is desiring more than anything a drastic change in occupation. He finds himself a failng "slave chaser" in a market that could not be more jam-packed with men willing to risk life and limb in pursuit of runaway slaves. Weighed down by feelings of panic, guilt, shame, and quite possibly a lack of manhood for his inability to provide for the needs of his wife and "soon to be born" child, Assis opens the door to Candido's innermost thoughts and feeling in the aformentioned citation.

     The most important aspect of the piece references Candido's feelings toward a career change saying, "It would be a way of changing his skin or his personality." The narrator's analysis immediately made me think of a general conference talk that was given a couple of years ago on the difference between "to be" and "to do." The talk was entitled, "What Matter of Men and Women Ought Ye to Be?" and was given by Elder Lynn G. Robbins of the First Quorum of the Seventy and was given in the April General Conference of 2011. I'll apologize right from the beginning for my cliche religious breakdown of something as temporal as Brazilian literature, but I promise to make these sort of connections sparingly. Elder Robbins, in his address, presents the extremely tight relationship that there is between "to be" and "to do." The action of "doing" is a direct bi-product of what and who someone is, the "be." However, that being said, "to do," without "to be" is complete and total hypocrysy because the feeling, passion, and devotion behind what others see, "the fruit" of ones labor, is nothing more than a fallacy. Consequently, in order to change the "do" of an individual, the "be" is what must be focused on. In Assis,' "Father versus Mother," Candido, in his most desperate of states, felt that he needed to change his profession in order to change both his skin and his personality. In reality, although it be nothing more than a short story, Candido needed a focus more centralized on his personal values in order to motivate a temporal change, such as a profession. If an image ("skin") is Candido's main worry, a change in occupation will do nothing more than offer a change in title. Take for example the statement proposed by Elder Robbins in regards, coincidentally, to both IDENTY and PROFESSION. He said,

"Identity confusion can also occur when we ask children what they want to be when they grow up, as if what a person does for a living is who he or she is. Neither professions nor possessions should define identity or self-worth. The Savior, for example, was a humble carpenter, but that hardly defined His life." (https://www.lds.org/general-conference/2011/04/what-manner-of-men-and-women-ought-ye-to-be?lang=eng)

Such was the case for the savior, and such would have been the case for Candido.

 

Jose Maria Velasco - "Bridge at Metlac"

September 26th, 2012

     Yesterday's class discussion initially, wasn't my favorite. I am still warming up to the Humanities and trying to figure out just exactly how all of "this" works. All of my classmates seem to be able to analyze and dissect works of art with great ease as if it were something completely natural. I'm learning that that is certainly not the case, but am gradually learning to appreciate great Latin American works of art. A great deal of progress was made immediately after class when I spoke with both Professor Mack and Emily (toss me an extra point here for the "shout-out" Emily). They explained to me the process of focusing on a work of art as a whole and then diving into what catches my attention most. The specifics and minute details of a work of art are where the real meaning is hidden and must be uncovered.
     We were introduced in our reading this week to the art of one of the greatest of all Mexican painters, Jose Maria Velasco. Velasco is famous for his impressionism and beautiful depictions of the Valley of Mexico. While reading the assigned text and studying his paintings found in the text, all I could think was, "Wow, this guy painted the same picture numerous times." Our class discussion, however, really opened my eyes and helped me realize how important one's land is and how strong of a connection can be made to that special place that we all call "home." The following painting by Velasco entitled, "Bridge at Metlac" captures those feelings:

Jose Maria Velasco - "Bridge at Metlac"
(Dawn Ades, Art in Latin America, 108)

     Eyes "blind to the arts" look at Velasco's paintings and see exactly what one of his greatest critics, Altamirano, saw. Altamirano criticized Velasco of being far too concerned with locality, regionalism, and for restricting himself artistically to the same dry, yellowish-brown landscape of the Valley of Mexico. That's exactly what I saw until Professor Mack proposed an interesting question that really got me thinking, "Does the passion one feel for the place where they come from manifest itself in art when a depiction of that very place is created by the native?" Those weren't the exact words, but it really got me thinking. Immediately after, the floor was open to us to discuss our own states/homes. Incredible was the participation and desire to share one's own thoughts an opinions on where they were from and how they viewed Provo, Utah from through a "foreigner's" lens. Those feelings expressed in our class discussion are precisely what come to mind for me when I see the aforementioned painting.

Mexico City-Veracruz railway (modern photograph)

     I come from Oklahoma. The jokes are endless as to how "exciting" that state can be. I, however, am always ready to defend my home state and build-up its greatness in the eyes of the naysayer. In this very painting, I feel like that's what Velasco does with the beautiful flora and fauna. I have never visited the Valley of Mexico but the vegetation in the foreground of the painting couldn't be more vibrant, wild, and inviting. The majestic river flowing, beneath the symbol of industrial revolution in motion (the train in itself), is simple yet constant and represents the "old" being done away by the "new." Something that really caught my attention from the beginning was the all-expansive vastness of the sky. The hard, earthy colors of the valley contrast beautifully with the open, liberating colors of the sky. Physical land features aside, no matter the viewer, the train will always be a point of interest. The text explains that Velasco often celebrated the modernization of Mexico (thus, exposing his European influences) in his artwork. Initially, the dark, haunting image of the ever-nearing train towards the viewer presents feelings of animosity and negativity towards the progressive state of Mexico in the mid to late 1800's however, upon further examination my feelings did start to change. Apart from the towering bridge and thundering locomotive with it's fiery lights, my attention was drawn to the origin of the train. It appears that it's recently appeared from some sort of tunnel jutting outward from the face of a mountain (notice the concrete wall at the beginning of the tracks) as if to represent, just as the river does, the progression of Mexico into the industrial age.
     In Jose Maria Velasco's, "Bridge at Metlac," two worlds combine to form a new and improved Mexico and nobody was or is more capable of expressing that optimism than Velasco through his artwork.  

Felix Parra - "Friar Bartolome de las Casas"

September 17th, 2012
 
     After all of the Latin American Philosophy reading that we have been doing in Octavio Paz's, Labyrinth of Solitude, we finally begin the analyzation of incredible Latin American works of art. This is more of what I thought that I would be getting myself into when I registered for Latin American Humanities a few months ago.

     As a Latin American studies major, the majority of my classes begin the semester with some sort of Old World / New World tie in to set the stage for what occurred at the moment of conquest and even in order to better understand what is currently happening in modern day Middle, Central, and South America. Anyone who has begun to familiarize themselves with Iberian culture and civilization in Latin America will easily recognize the names of men like Hernan Cortez, Simon Bolivar, Agustine de Iturbide, or Antonio Lopez de Santa Ana. These men contributed greatly to the conquering and colonization of what today forms what is commonly known as "Latin America." That being said, after numerous reading assignments, papers, and class discuccions, the name that has continually stuck with me is that of Friar Bartolome de las Casas. As a true Christian, model citizen, and sincere proponent of the defense of indigenous peoples' rights, Casas has inspired countless people to "go against the grain" of what's common, popular, and accepted to take a moral stand. The following work of art entitled "Friar Barolome de las Casas" displays just that (see below).

     Although he finished his life as a succesful Dominican Friar, that was not always the case for Casas. Arriving at the beginning of the 15th century, Casas came to the "New World" as an encomendero and motivated entrepreneur. After having been compelled by numerous Friar's and religious leaders, the words of Father Antonio de Montesinos changed Casas and led him to his new life's calling that would change his future and ultimately change the course of Latin American Colonization. This change of heart is exactly what attracted me to this picture.

Felix Parra, "Friar Barolome de las Casas"
(Dawn Ades, Art in Latin America, 35)

     Symbolizing the inner change of heart within Casas are the cross which he bears in his right hand and also the pillar of light that appears to be descending upon him directly above his head. The way that the cross of Christ is gripped firmly in his hand with his arms in the crossed position displays Casas' willingness to make sacrifices for his newfound life's calling. With his arms crossed and bearing the symbol of Christianity, it's as if Casas is defending his position and refusing to back down from what he feels is an extreme injustice in the discrimination, persecution, and enslaving of native indigenous peoples. For me the pillar of light directly above Casas' head represents the celestial inspiration that often accompanies radical change that is just, yet contradict all of society's social norms and mores.

     At his feet lay the bodies of both a mortally wounded indigenous man and a European (one would presume Spanish) woman clinging to Casas's lower half. These bodies, in my opinion, represent the predicament facing Casas' at the time of his repentance and newfound devotion to serving the God of all the earth. The bloody and lifeless body of the Indian presents the life that Casas' was to leave behind and the sins that only his Savior could remove from him as a previously abusive encomendero. On the other hand, and equally influential is the abrasive, european woman who, regardless of how he tries to move forward  (notice the lack of attention that he gives to her pleas), continually reminds him of what Spanish society and customs desire of him. Casas is fixed and determined in the painting with a sturdy pose displaying his commitment to what has occured to him to be just, proper, and wholesome. As a direct bi-product of his conversion to the cause of the native, Casas' work would produce "The New Laws" of 1542 and timeless works of A Short Account of the Destruction of the Indies and the Apologetic History of the Indies.

     I have always been inspired by people that stand firmly for something that they truly believe in no matter how "backwards" it may appear. I have a few heros that I have always looked up to. Great men like Kurt Cobain, Billy Corgan, and Dennis Rodman (this is actually true, but I'm being sarcastic), yet one of the most special people that I have taken a great deal of interest in as of late is Mother Teresa. Her denouncement of worldy riches and willingness to continue to be a good person even when her faith in God was at an all time low continues to motivate me to be an active proponent of what's right in a world with continually decreasing morals. The world needs more young people like Mother Teresa and Bartolome de las Casas and I hope that in some way, great or small, I can follow in their footsteps and be an active promoter of kindess and love for all mankind.