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I just got home from "Noche de Creativoros -- Night of Creation-Eaters(?)" and what a hoot! Artists and models were parading all around the empty, ruined casino swimming pool; and while we sat there through the hours of events, Maria began to kiss me. Mmmm. I think we're crossing the line. Pretty soon we'll have to admit that we're novios.
First there were "living art" reproductions of famous masterpieces. Olga Margarita Davila -- local performance artist and exhibition curator who has taught a class in art history we took at the Centro de Humanidades -- did a Nikki St.Phalle (sp?) re-creation, dressed up and painted like one of that woman's big statues, and all the while pouring blood (tomato juice) between cups and performing a Pai'pai (Baja California Indian) song. She saw Maria and I watching and performed especially for us, she said later, sitting with us for the rest of the show. I was really happy when she performed, and then, when she said she began to perform again because we had been there, well... what can I say. Gratitude. Pleasure. Yeah.
A couple other people met us and joined us, including Jeanette, a businesswoman I know from our classes, and my cousin Daniel who writes these pages of mine, and some other wild young artists I've met here and there around town and in classes... but they were really hanging with Olga Margarita. Olga won first place, incidentally. We all cheered. Then Tanya (name?) won for her creation of a (Ken & Barbie?) foursome clothed in recycled clothes and we all cheered. Then (name?) won for her fabulous body painting and we all cheered. We all cheered the 2nd and 3rd prizes in each category, too. We all cheered all. I'm a little ding-dong-y cause it's late and I'm feeling pretty nice after all of Maria's kisses....
The recreations were staged in several spots, and then the "recycled-art-clothing" and "body painting" models one by one, or pair by pair, or team by team, paraded around the rim of the ancient swimming pool, with music blasting and spotlights following. Rather weird and funky, but the setting was very cool. It took forever for the event to unfold, and the judges didn't come back with their results until almost one a.m.
A high-school age muchacho (age?) played rather good accordian while we waited. Then the announcer remarked that she was going to speak to the judges (who were still huddled, voting) "para despedirles" (to get out their decisions), and I leaned over to the women with me and cracked, "no, para despertarles" (to wake them up). Everyone laughed at that. Mexicans love word-sound rhyme jokes, and if you haven't figured out how much I love Mexico, than what are you doing here, anyway?
Friday night I went to a party at Luis' apartment -- he has a party every last Friday of the month, and attracts artists and such from Tijuana and Los Angeles. Great live music with Juan and people I don't know their names yet. The guitarist was superb, and Juan on keyboards... oh, man. Chatted with a couple I know from drinking in the cantina last week with the art students. Met Vincent, a filmmaker from L.A. who's got a feature movie coming out next Valentine's day, titled Gabriela. He wants to preview it here in Tijuana. Maybe even work on putting together some kind of film festival.
Our class started last week. The archeologist (woman) and anthropologist (man) seem to know their stuff. She was flying into cloud nine with descriptions of Maya architecture. Oh, yes, I think I will be taking this class with Maria. On the way in, looking for the classroom, I stopped to read the bulletin board in the CECUT hallway where they post announcements of art competitions. I saw a notice for a border-frontera poetry contest. Told my cousin Dan about it tonight. He seems interested. Maybe both of us will enter. The deadline is October 20th. He asked me to get more details for him. Maybe I shouldn't? He's a good poet. I worry he might beat me out of the race. But, hell... if you haven't figured out yet that he is me, well, once again, what are you doing here, anyway? I ain't gonna tell you such a truth very often.
E.F.G.
