HER-story:

With words and images, I am telling my story. Through art, through sculpture, I am remembering HERstory...
CASIMIRA

Saturday, November 10

irresistible


"She was so extraordinarily beautiful that I nearly laughed out loud...I fell in love with her at once.  She was like a mirage of beauty of the ages, irresistible, like a pull of gravity.  She has everything I want in a woman." - Richard Burton (1925-1984)

mixed media on paper


Friday, November 9

fruta


"Woman is like a fruit which will only yield its fragrance when rubbed by the hands. Take for example the basil: unless it be warmed by the fingers, it emits no perfume. And do you know that unless amber is warmed and manipulated it retains it's aroma within? The same with women: if you do not animate her with frolics and kisses, with nibbling of her thighs and close embraces, you will not obtain what you desire: you will experience no pleasure when she shares your couch and she will feel no affection for you." - Sir Richard Burton, circa 1886

excerpt from a delicious book my Latin Lover gifted me many moons ago

snapshot: watermelon, from a series of fruit 

Thursday, November 8

gratitude


I enjoyed introducing my children to the Peruvian master, Fernando de Szyszlo. Their paternal grandparents knew him well and my grandfather collected his early artwork.




Wednesday, November 7

te invento a veces con mi vanidad


"Tengo la convicción de que no existes
y sin embargo te oigo cada noche

te invento a veces con mi vanidad
o mi desolación o mi modorra

del infinito mar viene tu asombro
lo escucho como un salmo y pese a todo

tan convencido estoy de que no existes
que te aguardo en mi sueño para luego."

- Mario Benedetti

detail from mixed media on canvas, 2013

Tuesday, November 6

I want you to know


"Quiero que sepas
una cosa.

Tú sabes cómo es esto:
si miro
la luna de cristal, la rama roja
del lento otoño en mi ventana,
si toco
junto al fuego
la impalpable ceniza
o el arrugado cuerpo de la leña,
todo me lleva a ti,
como si todo lo que existe,
aromas, luz, metales,
fueran pequeños barcos que navegan
hacia las islas tuyas que me aguardan.

Ahora bien,
si poco a poco dejas de quererme
dejaré de quererte poco a poco.

Si de pronto
me olvidas
no me busques,
que ya te habré olvidado.

Si consideras largo y loco
el viento de banderas
que pasa por mi vida
y te decides
a dejarme a la orilla
del corazón en que tengo raíces,
piensa
que en ese día,
a esa hora
levantaré los brazos
y saldrán mis raíces
a buscar otra tierra.

Pero
si cada día,
cada hora
sientes que a mí estás destinada
con dulzura implacable.
Si cada día sube
una flor a tus labios a buscarme,
ay amor mío, ay mía,
en mí todo ese fuego se repite,
en mí nada se apaga ni se olvida,
mi amor se nutre de tu amor, amada,
y mientras vivas estará en tus brazos
sin salir de los míos."

- Pablo Neruda

"I want you to know
one thing.

You know how this is: 
if I look 
at the crystal moon, at the red branch 
of the slow autumn at my window, 
if I touch 
near the fire 
the impalpable ash 
or the wrinkled body of the log, 
everything carries me to you, 
as if everything that exists, 
aromas, light, metals, 
were little boats 
that sail 
toward those isles of yours that wait for me. 

Well, now, 
if little by little you stop loving me 
I shall stop loving you little by little. 

If suddenly 
you forget me 
do not look for me, 
for I shall already have forgotten you. 

If you think it long and mad, 
the wind of banners 
that passes through my life, 
and you decide 
to leave me at the shore 
of the heart where I have roots, 
remember 
that on that day, 
at that hour, 
I shall lift my arms 
and my roots will set off 
to seek another land. 

But 
if each day, 
each hour, 
you feel that you are destined for me 
with implacable sweetness, 
if each day a flower 
climbs up to your lips to seek me, 
ah my love, ah my own, 
in me all that fire is repeated, 
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten, 
my love feeds on your love, beloved, 
and as long as you live it will be in your arms 
without leaving mine."

- Pablo Neruda
detail from mixed media on canvas, 2017

Monday, November 5

tu compañía


"¡Amor, cuántos caminos hasta llegar a un beso,
qué soledad errante hasta tu compañía!
Siguen los trenes solos rodando con la lluvia.
No amanece aún la primavera.

Pero tú y yo, amor mío, estamos juntos,
juntos desde la ropa a las raíces,
juntos de otoño, de agua, de caderas,
hasta ser sólo tú, sólo yo juntos.

Pensar que costó tantas piedras que lleva el río,
la desembocadura del agua de Boroa,
pensar que separados por trenes y naciones

tú y yo teníamos que simplemente amarnos,
con todos confundidos, con hombres y mujeres,
con la tierra que implanta y educa los claveles." - Pablo Neruda

detail from 2013 mixed media on canvas in a private collection 

Sunday, November 4

mother to a new world


"Women must remember the sacred nature of our Goddess self, the call to glory inherent in human incarnation.

We are daughters of history and mothers to a new world.

This is not the time to throw away our power. It is time to claim it, in the name of love."
- Marianne Williamson

selfie with my beloved children, from a silly, playful series taken while we waited on a plane 



Saturday, November 3

sirena


"...in 1450 a beautiful Celtic mermaid named Asenora swam ashore on the coast of Cornwall where a Benedictine monastery had recently been established. After removing her fish tail and hiding it among the rocks, she explored the area on foot and discovered the community of men. She made many clandestine visits – -

....Suspicious that Asenora was no ordinary woman but a mermaid, and greatly alarmed by her presence, the abbot of the monastery hid himself by the water and waited. He witnessed Asenora swim ashore, remove her fish tail and hide it in a niche in the cliff.

When she wandered off in the direction of the abbey, the shrewd abbot retrieved the fish tail, bundling it into his robe. He tucked it inside a secret compartment hidden under the seat of his chair, in the church. Without her tail, the poor mermaid could never go back to the sea, and soon the wildness of it drained out of her. Asenora was converted, and eventually became Saint Senara...”

excerpt from “The Mermaid Chair” a novel by Sue Monk Kidd @ 2005



Friday, November 2

ecstatic tears


"There is no spot on earth that ever became sacred until something danced there; maybe it was just an atom or two.

Strange now the seriousness I see around the shrines of perfect saints whose feet were once wept ecstatic tears as they moved upon the sun they saw beneath our every step.

There is no place in existence that ever became sacred until something sang there, even be it just a molecule. That is enough. I hear they croon all the time."

- my beloved HAFIZ

detail from a 2013 watercolor on paper in a private collection 



Thursday, November 1

dia de los muertos


"What secret are you looking for? Life will soon reveal it to you." - Frida Kahlo


Día de Todos Los Santos

Día de Los Muertos

mixed medias on paper (c. 2013) and on wood (c. 2009)