Tag Archive for Mexico

Amazing Levitation Events Continue in Mexico

April 25, 2011 mfcarter@mfcarter.net Art, Photographs

A few weeks ago, I reported on a rare occurrence here in Vermont where a dear friend of mine, Mario, discovered that he could levitate.

Recently, we traveled to Mexico and once again discovered that levitation was possible there as well. As far as we can tell it is associated many times with religious places but not always. It seems that Mario is developing the ability to levitate at will.

It began on our first day when we went to the shrine of the Virgin of Guadalupe. Here you see Mario levitating on the steps that lead up to a small church at the top of the hill.

Levitation Virgin of Guadalupe

The next day he was walking in front of St. Thomas Church in Mexico City and suddenly he was lifted from the ground and found himself floating in the air.

Mario Levitating in Front of Sto. Tomas Church in Mexico City

The first time he was not near a religious object when he levitated was at the Basaltic Prisms in Hildago, Mexico. The levitation occurred as he was walking across a hanging bridge.

The bridge was set over a chasm that was very deep. The following photo demonstrates just how high up the bridge was.

Hildago Mexico, Basaltic Prisms

But… here he is levitating on the shaking, hanging bridge.

Levitation on Suspension Bridge over the Basaltic Prisms in Hildago, Mexico

After that day, we took a bus to Queretaro and while there the levitation events kept occurring.

On a street in Queretaro.

Levitation on a Queretaro street.

Then again on another street.

Levitation Event on the streets in Queretaro, Mexico

One day, he was walking down the street with his niece and while holding her hand they both started levitating.

Levitation Event in Queretaro, with Vane

He soon become aware that he could almost levitate at will while in Mexico. Here he is levitating in the Huachimontone pyramids outside of Guadalajara.

Huachimontones Levitation of Mario - Version 2

He soon started teaching some special students with psychic talent. Here he is teaching our friend Jana how to levitate.

Mario supporting Jana in her Levitation

Soon she was able to do it by herself while flapping her wings a bit to maintain balance.

Jana Levitating

Here is Mario levitating outside a museum in Guadalajara.

Guadalajara Levitation by Mario

Finally, here I am after having a few lessons from Mario.

Levitation Event in Guadalajara, Mark

We understand that the airlines are becoming a little nervous about our new found abilities of levitation. Time will tell if they close us down but Mario is an excellent teacher and is willing to offer classes to anyone who wants to learn.

 

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Santiago Carbonell – Artist and Modern Realist

February 8, 2011 mfcarter@mfcarter.net Art, Famous Artists
estigma

estigma

Santiago studied painting in Barcelona and was part of a group of young painters influenced by informalism. Tàpies was an influential figure for him. Tachism and working with different materials, accidents, chance, and texture are all highly influential in his works. He likes to experiment and is influenced by the avant-garde. His own work is realistic in nature and combines elements of romanticism and minimalism.

Carbonell feels that being an artist is not inherited and that the environment that one grows up in is more important than one’s genes. His father loved art and took him to museums when he was a young boy. As a child, he learned from his parents a passion for music and literature. He claims that the love that parents had for the arts and imparted to him was much more important than any inherited gene.

His paintings cover a broad spectrum of subjects. He prefers to use dancers as his models because they know how to move and are comfortable with their bodies. He captures this sensuality in his paintings. In his paintings, we recognize ourselves, our frailties, and our dreams. He is paints slowly and his paintings sell well.

He currently lives in Mexico with his wife and children and teaches art in Querétaro, Mexico in the University.

His web site with many fine examples of his art is located at santiagocarbonell.com

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La Tienda de Golosinas

October 21, 2008 mfcarter@mfcarter.net Culture, Spanish, Writing

Un día fuimos caminando por las calles de Querétaro descubrimos una tienda de golosinas. Fue en la zona centro de la ciudad colonial muy cerca de la casa de mi amiga. La tienda era muy pequeña, aproximadamente del tamaño de un espacio de oficina. La tienda fue increíble. No era normal esta tienda de golosinas que nos encontramos en los EE.UU. esta tienda llevan una variedad de frutas azucaradas y frutos secos de una variedad enorme. Visitamos y charlamos con la señora y compramos algunas frutas azucarados para nosotros. Tuvimos una visita muy agradable con la propietaria de la tienda. Ella estaba muy entusiasmada de mostrarme los nuevos sabores. Le prometí regresar eventualmente para comprar algo mas.

Aproximadamente una semana más tarde, volvimos a la tienda a hacer nuestras compras. Me di cuenta en la esquina de la entrada y de colores brillantes, azul y amarillo, una silla de ruedas y en el suelo había un niño. La señora explicó que era su hijo que tenía parálisis cerebral. Su nombre era Paco. El No podía caminar, pero él tiró a si mismo sobre el piso. Ella llamó a su hija para hablar con nosotros. La hija tenía tal vez 12 años de edad. La señora quería que su hija practicara Inglés conmigo. Durante nuestra discusión, le dije una cosa que es crucial para el aprendizaje. Una lengua nueva es para ella no tener miedo a hablar. La madre en ese momento le preguntó lo que había dicho a la hija y traducido al español.

La madre en ese momento empezó a llorar. Eran lágrimas de desesperación y angustia. Dijo que el miedo era la única cosa que había en este momento. Su hijo estaba en la necesidad de la medicina y no había sido capaz de comprarlo. Ella había comenzado la tienda de golosinas para ayudar a pagar por su medicamento. Nosotros charlarnos un poco mas y compramos nuestras cosas y les deseé suerte.

Durante nuestro camino a nuestra casa, estábamos discutiendo lo que podríamos hacer para ayudar. Mario tenia la idea para darle un poco de dinero para ayudar a su compra en los medicamentos. Se agruparon nuestros recursos y regresamos a la tienda. Sólo su hija y Paco estaban ahí, cuando regresamos. Nosotros le dijimos que había algo de dinero para su hermanito. Inicialmente ella insistió en que no podía aceptar nuestro dinero y luego lo hizo. Llorando, ella llevó el dinero a su hermanito que estaba en el suelo y mostraron el dinero a él diciendo: “Esto es para ti, mi querido hermano,” Ella pasó entonces y dio las gracias a nosotros. Dijimos que espera que pronto las cosas mejoran y deseamos a ella y su hermano lo mejor.

La segunda cosa que hicimos para Paco era hacer una conexión. Tenemos una amiga en Querétaro. Su trabajo es trabajar para ayudar a los pobres navegar del sistema médico y ella es una defensora de la gente que no puede comprar sus medicamentos. Hablamos con ella un poco acerca de lo que había observado y me dijo que debería dar a la familia su número de teléfono. Ella dijo que cree que sería capaz de ayudar a ellos.

Al día siguiente, volvimos de nuevo a la tienda de golosinas. Esta vez, la propietaria era la tía de Paco. No había ninguna evidencia de Paco o su hermana. le explicamos quienes eramos y ella dijo que ya sabía. Nosotros le dijimos que tenemos una amiga que puede ayudar y le dimos el número de teléfono y nuestra dirección de correo electrónico que podría utilizar en caso de que necesitaran algo. Dijimos adiós y les deseamos lo mejor.

Hemos recibido un mensaje de correo electrónico de la familia cuando volvimos a los EE.UU. Ellos expresaron su agradecimiento por toda nuestra ayuda. Paco está mejor y ha vuelto a la escuela gracias a su medicamento. Él nunca estará en buena salud y tendrá sus altibajos, pero hemos ayudado a él por el momento. La familia está llamandonos ahora a nosotros sus ángeles de los Estados Unidos.

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Mexican Dolls

January 18, 2008 mfcarter@mfcarter.net Art, Culture, My Exhibits & Work, Writing

I am currently working on a painting of these dolls which are frequently sold by some of the indigenous peoples of Mexico.

The dolls have a long history. Dolls like these were created by the indigenous before Mexico was conquered by the Spaniards. They are part of Mexico’s heritage and have been passed down from generation to generation.

I believe that they are intended as both toys and as a way for the indigenous people to sell a craft to earn their living. I know little of the doll’s history outside of this.

The indigenous people who craft these dolls call themselves the Otomi. They have their own language called, nHa:nHo. Their largest populations are found in the states of Hidalgo (Valle de Mezquital), México, Puebla, Querétaro, Tlaxcala, and Veracruz.

I find the dolls and these people to be fascinating and like all cultures they struggle to maintain their traditions in our modern world of globalization and general loss of our unique qualities.

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Mexico City Arrival

September 21, 2007 mfcarter@mfcarter.net Culture, Musings, Writing

When we left the airplane after landing in Mexico, we filed through the expected lines, turned in our forms, and had our passports inspected as always.

I always feel a moment of suspense when I go through Mexican customs because they have all passengers press a button on a post. If you get a green light, there’s no problem but if you get a red light, you have to expect that you will be getting a thorough inspection by the airport guards. It seems infinitely more just than the US airports where if you look at one of the guards wrong or maybe if you have darker skin and dark hair, you usually get a more careful inspection.

One of the things that always amaze me is the number of people in the airport. This airport is always packed with travelers, families, friends, people wanting to sell things, people cleaning, and people standing in lines for one reason or another. It’s truly surprising the number of people that this airport processes at all hours of the day and they are here in the thousands.

We had decided this time to take the metro. While the metro station is very near the airport, it wasn’t entirely clear where its entrance was located. We left the beautiful interior hallway that runs the length of the front of the airport for the sidewalk. This was our choice. I wanted to smell the air and physically just feel the city. There were a lot of taxi drivers along the front of the airport. Most smiling and waving us in their direction or trying to convince us to take a ride with them.

When we reached the end of the walkway, we asked directions again to the metro station. There’s so much new construction in this airport that each time we arrive, it looks different, bigger, and it’s changed just enough that you don’t quite recognize where you were before. Anyway, one gentleman that we asked pointed us in the direction saying, “Direcho! Direcho! Just follow the smell.” I thought it was a strange comment but quickly discovered why. There was a pile of compost near the entrance of the metro that was intended for new gardens that were going in.

Once we descended into the Metro, the smell of the compost went away to be quickly replaced by the smell of people and a feeling of closeness and humidity. We had yet to find which metro line would take us to find our eventual stop, Sevilla. While we were looking at the metro map on the wall, another passerby offered to help. One look at me and he offered to speak in English but Mario quickly convinced him that Spanish was fine. He gave us directions that were helpful and concluded by telling us that Mario spoke really good Spanish. Mario had lived in Mexico City for 20 years. We were amused by the comment but at the same time recognized it as this stranger’s attempt to complement some foreigners and make them feel welcomed.

We were still a little confused but a kind lady recognizing our confusion allowed us to walk with her for a moment and then once again pointed us in the right direction. By the time we had descended to the level of the train, it was feeling hot which was a big contrast from the cool temperature we had first felt in leaving the airport. The bright orange cars of the train soon pulled up and we got in.

One of the first things I noticed was that the trains are all electric. The second thing I observed was that the metro’s trains all have tires. The ride of the cars was pretty nice because of this. After entering the car, I noticed that most of the people in the car were looking at me. It took me a moment to realize why. I was a light skinned, tall, blue-eyed person while everyone around me was dark skinned and dark haired. I was a little bit out of the normal for a subway rider. The stares didn’t bother me too much but It was an odd sensation. I had the thought that maybe this is what being latino might feel like in the U.S. while walking around in my home state of Vermont. It seemed fair to me that roles might be reversed.

The next thing that happened was perhaps the most amazing thing about the metros in Mexico City. A man in his thirties came down the car with a speaker attached to his back. It was blaring music. He was selling DVDs that he or someone else had copied. He was shouting over his music that there were 120 songs on his DVD for just 10 pesos — something like $1.00 US. After he was done, then came a lady in her twenties with a DVD/Video player on her back, music also blaring, she was selling videos for children which she had also copied from some source and was selling for 10 pesos. Then came two little boys. They looked less than 8 years old. They were singing at the top of their lungs, totally out of tune, and asking for money. Finally came an indigenous lady, who looked very old. She was singing a beautiful song and offering chiclets for sale. The vendors timed their entry into the metro car so that each one started shortly after the other had finished. It was almost like a barrage of advertisements on television. People, at least the vendors, respected each other on the subway. This routine repeated itself until we reached our stop.

During the routines of the peddlers selling their wares, I observed the lady sitting across from me. She was carefully applying her makeup. I was amazed after all the jostling from the train’s slowing and stopping that she was able to accomplish her task. She was going through her whole routine of applying makeup to her eye-lashes, eye-brows, and on her lips and face. I thought it a little bizarre to see this in the subway until I noticed another lady torturing her eyelashes with an eyelash curling device. She was working very diligently to make her lashes curl. The trouble was they seemed to spring back into their original position almost as soon as she released her device. I was watching her with amazement. I’ve never seen such torturous work on a subway before. OK… I decided, so this is a cultural phenomena. It must be normal for Mexicans to apply makeup during their subway ride. Later, I was told that people sometimes spend hours traveling from their home to their place of work. So… this behavior made sense for those people who didn’t finish their morning routine before leaving the house.

We finally arrived to La Sevilla, the stop which was our destination. We climbed up the stairs and soon were in the outdoors.

It was a relief to be out of the noise of the Metro vendors and back into the cooler air and sunshine. “Yeah, ” I thought. “This is going to be a great trip.”

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Cangrejo

September 9, 2007 mfcarter@mfcarter.net Culture, Writing

A story told to me in an art market.

Once upon a time there were two buckets filled with crabs. One bucket had foreign crabs and the other had Mexican crabs.

One day, someone in the market saw the two buckets and asked why one bucket had a lid while the other didn’t. The shop owner explained that there was a difference in the two types of crabs. The foreign crabs always were able to escape from the bucket so their bucket needed a lid while the Mexican crabs never needed a lid because every time one of the crabs tried to escape, one of the other crabs would pull it down.

The artist in the market was explaining why it was so difficult to be a successful artist in Mexico.

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Bound Heart / Sacred Heart

July 2, 2007 mfcarter@mfcarter.net Art, My Exhibits & Work

I took a photograph of this heart in Mexico, it was wrapped up in what appeared to be braided thread or rope. The image of the bound heart was appealing to me and represented a an unanswerable mystery because of the multiple interpretations that can be made from the image. Is the heart bound to protect something from getting out? Bound to protect it from something getting in? Or… has it been wounded and the binding is holding it together to keep it from breaking?

This image also strikes me as another interpretation of the sacred heart.

The sacred heart is a stylized image. It usually has flames, and lance wound, and is surrounded by a crown of thorns, oftentimes it is bleeding and superimposed over an image of Jesus. Obviously representing Jesus suffering for humanity. This image of the heart can also be found superimposed over the image of Mary and as such is called the Immaculate Heart of Mary.

For me, I simply like the imagery and the mystery that the image represents. I chose to surround the heart with Mexican milagros. The word milagro means miracle in English. The milagros are charms that are traditionally used for healing purposes. They are frequently encountered in Churches and Cathedrals in Mexico. I believe this heart represents hope.

Oil on Canvas: 24″x30″

You can see more of my paintings on my web site at: MFCarter.net

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Callas

April 27, 2007 mfcarter@mfcarter.net Art, Still Life

Calla lilies are strongly associated with Mexico thanks to the influences of many artists but in particular in association with the passionate work of Diego Rivera. Diego Rivera was a painter known throughout the world for his many murals that speak of politics, history, and the struggle of workers. He was one of the 20th centuries major artists and it’s primarily through his work that Callas have come to typify Mexico. To this day, Calla lilies are a poetic and beautiful reminder of Mexico’s rich history and blend of cultures.

I undertook the painting of the Calla’s largely because I love the flowers but also because of the history and association with Mexico. The work uses a vase for the flowers that I purchased in Mexico that has some traditional indigenous designs. These designs are found on many of the pottery pieces that are available today in Mexico and represent either gods or figures from Mexico’s rich past. In making this painting, I was focused on the plant’s beauty as well as my love for pottery. I hope you enjoy it as well.

One interesting thing to note is that the flower itself is not really from Mexico it’s from Africa and was introduced into the country in the mid-nineteenth century. The waxy blooms of the flowers are associated with radiant beauty and sophistication. An Italian professor is credited for discovering the plant. It is not known when and how the plant was introduced into Europe but the earliest known illustration of it is from the Royal Garden in Paris in 1664.

Oil on Canvas: 24″x30″

You can see more of my paintings on my web site at: MFCarter.net

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Painting of the Virgin of Guadaloupe

February 18, 2007 mfcarter@mfcarter.net Art, My Exhibits & Work, Portraits

In the 1500’s in México an indigenous man and recent convert to Christianity was walking across a hillside in Tepeyac to attend mass. He was startled by a brilliant light and unearthly music. Before him appeared a vision of a beautiful, dark skinned woman who called him, “My son.” She also told him that she was Mary, mother of Jesús. She told him that she wanted a church built on this hillside and that Juan Diego should bring the message to the Bishop. It was very difficult for Juan Diego to request an audience with the Bishop but he eventually was able to talk to him. Unfortunately for Juan, The Bishop didn’t believe him and requested that he bring proof of the message from Mary before a church could be built.

After his audience with the Bishop, Juan tried to avoid the hillside and, for several days, he was successful but then an uncle of his became very sick. Once again, he had to rush across the hillside to bring a priest to his uncle’s side. As he crossed the hillside, the vision appeared to him and told him to pick the roses that were miraculously blooming where he had never seen roses growing before. He followed the visions request and gathered the roses up in his cloak and continued with his quest for the priest. He found himself before the bishop yet again but this time as he released the roses from his clothing, there was an image of the dark skinned virgin painted on his cloak. Thus giving the bishop proof that a church should be built on the hillside.

This was the same hillside that had been the very site of the Aztec temple to Tonantzin, “The Lunar Mother,” or the goddess Coatlicue, “The Mother of the Gods and Protector of Humanity.” Some historians believe that the name Guadaloupe comes from the indigenous name for the Mother of the Gods, Coatlicue. In either case, this is most likely an example of syncretism.

The Vatican recognized the miracle of Guadalupe in 1745. Today, millions of people gather in the church each December 12 to honour “ La Reina de Mexico.”

I was inspired to paint the Virgin by my many friends in Mexico. She is a very strong force in Latin culture and particularly so in Mexico. She was a very difficult project to paint because of all the expectations that come from her being an icon. There are things that have to be in the painting or she would be unrecognizable otherwise. In this sense, the art as such is very constrained. The picture at the left represents my first efforts to capture the essence of The Virgin of Guadalupe.

The painting at the left represents the final result. I hope that my Mexican friends are pleased by what I have captured in this work. I believe that I have captured the sense of compassion for all of humanity that she represents.

24″ x 30″, oil on canvas

Visit my web site to see more of my paintings.

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Constanza and Her Family

February 9, 2007 mfcarter@mfcarter.net Culture, Writing

Constanza and her family have been friends of ours since we’ve been visiting Mexico. Constanza is a very kind, and generous person. She has a spark about her that always seems to see the positive side of things and to enjoy life even when things get difficult for her. She is shy and lives a quiet life. She works hard for her job in education and lives by herself. She is the youngest daughter of her family. Her mother is dead and her father is in his 80’s and needs her support frequently. Her name suits her very well, Constanza means steadfast in English.

Constanza also has a brother named, Dante who seems to be drifting through his life. He is a very tall, thin person. He has a mellow voice. He has been divorced from his wife for a while. He had not been living with his wife and children for several years before the divorce. I don’t know that he’s ever lived with his wife. You never know from one culture to the next what is polite to ask and this was one of those things that I sensed might bring up some buried emotion in either his ex-wife or him. I have been told that Dante is gay, but who knows? People have their secrets which they don’t share until they are ready and sometimes never. Currently, he has been with another woman who is struggling with cancer. He lives with his father and even though he is living with his father, It is still considered Constanza’s responsibility as the youngest daughter to take care of him and she did this freely.

Constanza visited us last summer for a week. While she was here, her brother called her to tell her that her father was sick. It was as if, he could not cope or didn’t want to help a parent who was ill. He was looking to Constanza to make decisions when she was a thousand miles from home. She was obviously upset by Dante’s phone call but what could she do? She buried the thoughts. She did her best to enjoy her time and called home a few more times before she returned to Mexico.

This year, when we visited we had one wonderful day together. Constanza drove us to Guanajuato. Guanajuato is a beautiful colonial city and site of what was once one of the richest silver mines in the world. The city is filled with narrow alleys, colorful buildings, tunnels, and colonial architecture. It is also a cultural gem where each year artists from around the world perform in recitals, concerts, plays, ballets, modern dance, and exhibit art. The day here was indescribable. I was really overwhelmed by all the beauty of this city and it’s offerings. It was so totally unexpected. Constanza seemed to thoroughly enjoy herself as well. She was like a bird, happy, excited, and flitting from one striking trinket that caught her eye to another.

We didn’t see Constanza for several days after we returned to Querétaro. One day, we accidentally ran into her on the street. She was returning from a lunch break and entering her work building. After our normal round of hugs and greetings, she told us that her father was sick. There had been a chest cold going around where people were sick for a while but it didn’t seem to be anything to be concerned about. Constanza’s brother had been sick with a similar cold the week before. She was also worried about her father’s health care. She was thinking it was time for him to be placed into a nursing home where he could have more consistent and constant care. It was then that her face changed, lines formed around her eyes and she took on a very tense look. She said in words that lost all their vibrancy, “My brother has taken all my father’s money. This money my father saved all his life. It was to help us pay for his care.” When I heard these words, I swear my heart stopped beating for a moment. How do you respond? What do you do? “I’m so sorry.” seems so woefully inadequate. Yet, those were the words that were uttered by our group of friends. It was lunch time and Constanza had to return to her job. It was as if she was grateful for this because she could leave these problems behind. Her work, had become a distraction from the real world.

We didn’t see Constanza much after that. I know her time was being occupied by her ailing father. Her brother called us a few times on the telephone but somehow it was always inconvenient for us to meet.

The day we returned to the United States, we heard from Constanza. Her father had died. Perhaps, for her, she no longer needed to worry about what her brother had done. Perhaps, it was a release for her that her father had died and she no longer had the responsibilities which she once shouldered. Perhaps, she can live with all that had happened. Perhaps, she can find peace.

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