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.
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.
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 skinor 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.
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.
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.
Professor Mack often defends his unusual class format involving "tweets" and frequent blogs against the silent naysayers of our classroom. He usually does this in a joking manner with a smile and a slight laugh, but I unfortunately was one of those "negative Nancies." I just want to get the word out right from the beginning of this weeks post that I have converted 100% to both blogging and tweeting as a form of scholastic measurement and consider this very blog as one of the more fun (don't say "funner") weekly assignments that my classes give me on a regular basis. After two weeks in a row of deep, confusing insights from Octavio Paz, this week's blog will draw inspiration from Stuart Schwartz's, "Victor's and Vanquished." Now I know that if you are reading this blog post, it's because you are a responsible student and are accustomed to showing up ready to participate with the assigned materials read. If that's the case, then you know very well how DRY these PDF reading assignments can be from this book. At least from my point of view, I feel like the same thing is repeated over and over again. The saving grace of these excerpts are often the ancient Aztec or Mayan drawings that signify a quickened reading time. Now, that being said, through all of the rubble (I say "rubble" lightly. I'm still in the process of trying to learn to appreciate how great all of this is. Trust me, I'm "the work in progress" here) I was able to find something that truly did catch my attention. Take a look.
Sandoval and Holguin soon arrived with Guatemoc, and the two
captains between them led him up to Cortes, and when he came in front of him he
paid him great respect, and Cortes embraced Guatemoc with delight, and was very
affectionate to him and his captains. Then Guatemoc said to Cortes “Senor
Malinche, I have surely done my duty in defense of my City, and I can do no
more and I come by force and a prisoner into your presence and into your power,
take that dagger that you have in your belt and kill me at once with it” and when
he said this he wept tears and sobbed and other great Lords whom he had brought
with him also wept.
(Stuart Schwartz, Victors and Vanquished, 210)
After having read the words of Bartolome de las Casas and seeing "The Mission," the violence finally came to life for me. It's one thing to hear over and over again about the sheer brutality of the Old/New World collision, but to investigate it more profoundly through primary sources (although often somewhat bias and requiring the reader to read "against the grain") the reader starts to relate to the participants of the conflict. That was truly the case for the touching exchange between two great war heroes from completely different backgrounds.
When I first read of this exchange, the most interesting moment occurs when Cortes, who has been overcoming all sorts of obstacles to sack the city of Tenochtitlan, shares a warm embrace with Guatemoc and his captains. If I'm in Guatemoc's place that's the absolute last thing I would want to do. What shocked me was the level of understanding and respect between this group of both advanced and primitive war captains. Both men, motivated by either a Christian Deity and gold or numerous idols, felt that their's was the just cause and was willing to give anything for victory. As is always the case, with every battle there will always be winners and losers.
Interesting to note as well is the last request of Guatemoc to the Spanish captain. He pleads that he take his dagger out of his belt and "kill me at once with it." From my perspective this feud between the Spanish and indigenous peoples could not have been more one-sided. The Spanish found in their favor the use of war horses, gun power, technology, a transcontinental empire, and even small pox and various other diseases to take advantage of the "Mexicans" and ultimately satisfy all of their desires. The "never give up" attitude of the people of Tenochtitlan and their unshakable devotion to the cause of their beautiful city, families, and faith was nothing but inspirational. Guatemoc's final plea was nothing more than a final testimony to his absolute devotion to the cause that he believed in. It's nothing but easy to admire that kind of tenacity in one's life and draw strength from such commitment in matters that are important in my own life.
Well I'm officially back for my second shot at this whole "blogging" thing. Humanities is definitely not my forte which can make writing about it a bit tricky, but I feel that with time these blog entries are only going to improve which should make the content a bit less of a chore for the reader. This week my entry will once again be based out of the book "The Labyrinth of Solitude" by Octavio Paz. I am finding these chapters a bit difficult to fully digest and at times am not fully sure what Paz is even talking about, but our in class discussions are helping me to more fully analyze them. That being said, there is always a part or two that jump out at me and actually catch my attention. This week's highlighted section goes as follows:
"Slaves, servants and submerged races always wear a mask, whether smiling or sullen. Only when they are alone, during the great moments of life, do they dare to show themselves as they really are. All their relationships are poisoned by fear and suspicion: fear of the master and suspicion of their equals. Each keeps watch over the other because every companion could also be a traitor. To escape from himself the servant must leap walls, get drunk, forget his condition. He must live alone, without witnesses. He dares to be himself only in solitude."
(Octavio Paz, The Labyrinth of Solitude, 70-71)
As a Mexican, Octavio Paz references, in this passage, the rich history of Mexico and his own interpretations thereof. Seeing as how I know so little of Mexico and it's history, I was able to draw on some personal feeling and past observations to also take something valuable out of Paz's words. Paz's claim that men only "dare to show themselves as they really are" during times solitude ties in perfectly with a quote given by President Uchtdorf during his General Conference address in October of 2009 (http://www.lds.org/general-conference/2009/10/the-love-of-god?lang=eng) when he said, “What we love determines what we seek. What we seek determines what we think and do. What we think and do determines who we are — and who we will become." Moments of perfect "lownliness" or "downtime" are often the greatest moments for the desires of one's heart to make their way to the brain. When one finds themselves completely alone, there are zero outside influences and in that moment we can truly identify what kind of person we are and what are deepest and most intimate desires are. The aforemetioned paragraph is no call to repentance for all Aaronic priesthood youth by any means. Solitude and isolation can also lead to self-reflection and an analysis of who we are which can often lead to desired change. Marcos Martins, a fellow IHUM260-er, shared that his most profound changes and decisions of greatest immportance have most often been made when he found himself at a high level of solitude stating, "I found a trend in the way I felt as an
individual every time I chose to reinvent or change myself and my actions; I
felt lonely (http://kahrma.blogspot.com/)."
Octavio Paz continues to produce amazing points that catch my attention and cause me to update my blog on a weekly basis. We'll just have to wait and see if he can be a "three-time blog topic" champ when next week's post comes out.
**** (music video: Innocence, The Airborne Toxic Event - speaks of losing one's own innocence in personal thoughts)
