Tactile Pleasures

I continue this week highlighting some of the tactile pleasures of Antigua created in stone, tile, wood, fiber--and food!

Certain people are more tuned into textures than most of us--a potter knows clay is ready to mold by how it feels. As a knitter I take the texture of yarns into account when planning garments for fit and fashion. Clothing designers use the nubs, slubs, and weaves of fabric to achieve specific design goals. (As an example, I recently saw a stunning garment that was made of peacock feathers!  Click on the link) Architects choose building materials for their practical and aesthetic effects. 

The focus of my trip was to revisit the ruins of the church of Our Lady of the Pillar of Zaragoza, built from 1731-1736. Because it's stripped of all art, the focus is on the shape and style of the buildings. And, because much of it collapsed during the earthquake in July, 1773, the inner workings of the walls and ceiling are exposed. Some of the old plaster on the walls remains, but the under-layer of bricks and mortar is exposed. You can see the contrast between smooth walls and bricks laid to create arches. Look higher, and the ribs of the pillars remind me of why architects call them ribs in the first place. 

A plain-fronted church built in 1457 in Ciudad Vieja  is enhanced by the beautifully curved and carved wooden doors. 

Created 500 years later, there is an abundance of modern art in the park at Santa Domingo el cerro. Clown figures dance across a curved wall of their events pavilion, and toss three dimensional rings. The colors and images are pleasing and the small pieces of stone catch and reflect the light in a way that gives movement to the art.

And since we're next door to the restaurant, el tenedor del cerro, I might as well talk about the sensual pleasure of lunch.  I sat at a small table on the deck. My dining companion was a volcano. The food was delicious and again, texture played a part. I bit into the pesto-marinated shrimp pizza, and pulled the slice back to take a closer look. Firm toasted pine nuts added a new dimension to my palate. 

huipil

Last of all, I want to highlight the textiles again. Look at the handmade hats in the photo and imagine how  it would feel to stroke the finely braided brim.And the embroidery on the huipil, the traditional blouse, mimics the shape of the flower petals. 

These lovely and finely crafted pieces are available at Mayan Boutique, Esperanza Hernández /Edgar Martin Perez, 3rd street #5 "D" Antigua Guatemala, esperanz-arte@hotmail.com

Look around you today as you're out and about. Pay attention to the textures that add interest and depth to the spaces and objects around you. 

Were you a child with a silky blanket? What appeals to your sense of touch: the feel of corduroy? smooth melted chocolate?  crunch in your peanut butter? popping plastic packing bubbles?  

Enjoy them, and share!

Washed Souls

 “The purpose of art is washing the dust of daily life off of our souls.” - Pablo Picasso

courtyard of the ruins of las capuchinas, a convent

I love to travel because it serves the same purpose. And when I travel I feel bathed in art--the beauty of nature and the creativity of people.

Last week I tried to help you hear the sounds of Antigua, Guatemala. This week I want to share my favorite sights, the colors and textures and designs that dust off my soul. 

Antigua is nestled among four of Guatemala's 29 volcanoes.  They are spectacularly high for those of us in North Carolina whose “mountains” in the continental divide top out at 2,900’. What an impression they make when you turn a corner and wham! there one is.

I haven’t seen them erupt, just puff smoke. But here’s a video of last year’s activity on Volcan de Fuego

 
I’ve been florally deprived for months and flowers were growing over every wall, out of crevices, and in every little plot of land. I couldn’t get enough of them!  Antigua’s blossoms were like a fix for my addiction.

photo by Wanda Easley

Not to be outdone by the natural vegetation, the outside walls of the houses are painted colorfully. A single long wall on any block may have a different color at the property line.

The result looks like a series of solid colored sheets hung on a clothesline. Weathering of the paint, and repainting also produces layers which peel and create an antiqued look. 

This region has one feature unique in all the world--Mayan textiles. They're as colorful as the flowers, but more exotic. Hand-woven, the cloth is primarily made of cotton dyed in deep colors. The designs are geometric, symbolic, and vary in complexity. Many items are embellished with fine embroidery. Not just museum pieces or novelties for tourists, the trades-women still wear traditional clothing. It’s a good draw for selling their crafts.The resourceful women are quick to adapt their skills to new products. I bought a water bottle carrier, and a padded bag for my iPad.


Then there are the street artists. I've purchased watercolors on both trips. There are many high quality art galleries and craft centers too. 

Antigua's beauty starts from the ground up. It is  a living, breathing canvas for both eye and spirit. 

What places do that for you? When was the last time you enjoyed an art museum? a botanic garden? Where would you recommend a person go to shed the dust of daily living? 

Antiguan Medley

When I say I’m going on vacation, someone is bound to say, “Oh, what are you going to see?” 

chicken bus in Antigua

My recent trip to Antigua, Guatemala certainly gave me plenty to look at. But the city is distinctive no matter which sense interprets it. It composes its own medley.

In one neighborhood, the public bus’s attendant stands on the bottom step, holds onto the hand rail and the open bifold door yelling ”Guate! [Gwa-tay] Guate!”  He’s the town crier for the common man's transport system. 

The tires don’t hum on the pavement, because the town’s road are Spanish colonial cobblestone. Instead they hiccup and bump and squelch. 

At any time of the day firecrackers explode in rapid pop-pop-pops to celebrate birthdays. 

Old church bells peal out the hours and half hours all over the city. Some of the ringing is near and clear while others are mere whispers stretched thin and dissipated over distance.

fountain outside my bedroom

Music blasts through the walls and wafts in the windows. On the street, the vendors played snippets of folk tunes to attract buyers for their wooden flutes and clay whistles.

As I wrote in the hotel’s patio every afternoon I could count on an energy lift about 4 p.m. when a nearby dance class began. The teacher gave instructions, and the songs would roll on for half an hour. The beats sizzled, and I imagined the dancers short of breath and sweating from vigorously stepping, kicking, and swirling.

And mixed in it all, the patter of water falling into in the fountains.

child conducts the orcherstra

I was lucky enough to hear a small symphony orchestra at the top of Santo Domingo el Cerro.  One melody imitated a ticking clock. Romantic strings reflected the passion of a pair of lovers.

Later, I walked through the park and rich metallic chimes vibrated high in a pine tree. 

 Sound saturated my visit.  I love the Antiguan melody.


What sounds define your favorite places? 

  

Rekindling a Frayed Connection - Antigua, Guatemala

I am out of the country this week, enjoying a low tech vacation. I'll be back next week with photos and stories.

Take a peek here for prettier pictures than I can take!    Antigua Daily Photos

Aprons - beyond the kitchen

I’m not much of a collector. I don’t have oodles of purses like some women or tiny blown-glass animals like my great Aunt Clara. But I am fond of aprons and have many than I can use. They have much to commend them; they don’t have to be dusted or displayed in expensive cabinets.  They don’t cost so much I feel guilty. 

A Aprons are artifacts of culture, whether home-made or manufactured. I love the ones sewn by creative housewives during the 1940s and ‘50s.  Some aprons are pleated, many have clever pockets, while others are gathered and full as a dance skirts.  I value them as bits of beauty.

P       Usually they're practical and sturdy for wiping messy hands or catching a last minute spill. I use many of mine, but some are too fancy. One is made of sheer net, with satin ribbon ties. It must have been for party wear. 

 





I love to display them. For example, here I used them as place mats. My back door window displays three in a column to keep the sun out.  I have hung them on blank walls as textile art pieces, or draped them four and five at a time on folding rack. 

R      They remind me of people and places.

In Guatemala I bought an apron woven and sewn at a women’s collective. The fabric is heavy and dark, shot through with subtle variations in the threads that create designs within the design. This type of apron was traditionally a gift from mother-in-law to her son’s new bride to symbolize the change in kitchen leadership! 

 Later at the market one of the weavers recognized me and helped me buy an every day apron, a gingham skirt of pleats and rick-rack with a concealed zipper pocket to safeguard the shopping cash. 

My grandmothers wore aprons all of the time. I have one I took apart for a pattern and remade in vintage fabric. My great-grandmother hand-stitched a plain white apron of lightweight fine cotton with beautiful lace and a tiny gathered pocket. I can’t imagine she’d ever wear it to cook in. 

     A friend gave me her grandmother's tiny, tiny crocheted apron. It has a bib which she pinned to her dress while serving at church potlucks.

O Sure, they're old fashioned but not obsolete. There’s a web community of apron collectors. And there’s a resurgence in hand-made aprons. My grandkids and their momma received matching aprons last Christmas. (Not from me.)  Window-shopping at the airport recently I drooled over a colorful bibbed apron which would have been a guilty pleasure had I bought it. 

N I have to wear an apron to stay neat and clean when I cook. Otherwise, I’m like a kid who wipes her hands on her clothes.

S     For so many reasons aprons are special. When I open my apron drawer, or look in the bags that keep my collection color-coded and dust-free, I see a metaphor for a synapse. Each one makes a connection between me and some woman I will never met--but wondered about while I handle her apron.

Can painted plates or salt and pepper shakers do that? 

Leave a comment about your favorite apron!  

  http://tipnut.com/free-apron-patterns-tutorials/