Have you ever walked down a street on your way somewhere and been stopped short by the feeling that you are home? When I saw Federico Archuleta's stencilled Virgen de Guadalupe (a selection of Archuleta's graffiti art appears on his web site) on the columns of the old Tower Records building in Austin, Texas, I felt exactly that.
I love how Archuleta adds highlights and blends the spray paint so that the images aren't flat; they glow with energy and life. They evoke pure nostalgia, taking me back to my childhood in Texas in the '70s.
Archuleta's portraits are raw, iconic. They capture that unique blend of sounds that I grew up listening to on actual vinyl record albums in my grandmother's dining room, the needle lowering and making a scritchy sound (or a scary scratchy sound if you weren't careful). The songs I heard driving down endless miles of Texas highway on those fat 8-track cassette tapes in my parents' Texas-size Suburban: Johnny Cash and Janis Joplin, ZZ Top and Buddy Holly. Elvis Presley and Dolly Parton. Freddy Fender and the Rolling Stones. Eydie Gorme y El Trio Los Panchos and Merle Haggard.
This background music--a mix of country and western, rock and roll, and Tex-Mex--was playing (at least in my head) as we drove through the Texas night from Austin to South Texas, the stars spread out all around us on the wide velvet sky.
In the small South Texas town improbably called Alice (pronounced AH-lease by my kin and known as the birthplace of Tejano music), I met people related to me through my great-great grandparents at a very extended family reunion.
I talked with a man who had gone to elementary school with my grandmother. I chatted with a woman who was taking an algebra course taught by my uncle, then in his early 20s, when he died in a car accident. I learned that my grandmother and her sister had to attend a segregated school for Mexican American children in Del Rio, Texas, in the 1930s.
My mother reminisced with a cousin about the sentimentality of their great aunt, who cried "even when a stranger died." A woman who nevertheless kept a ranch and rental properties going after her husband's death and while three of her sons were away fighting in World War II. I heard the ache of loss in a cousin's voice as he remembered that as a boy he had to sell his favorite black mare, and how he now owns several descendants of his favorite horse.
Hearing these memories made me realize how vivid the past still is for all of us, how we wear it on our skin and speak it in voices accented by the small town where we were born. When we filter these memories through song or art, there's a truth and beauty that hits you solidly, like a steel hammer hitting a nail true and sure.
*********
Thank you to those of you who have already purchased the 2011 zencrafting calendar. I am hearing that they will make great Christmas gifts for colleagues. For Cyber Monday, the calendars are on sale for $12, and I am offering free domestic shipping. You can purchase the calendar here.
Have a happy week!