still north of the border

I am still in America. El Norte. In my hometown of Flagstaff,AZ. Winter slowly turns into spring. I am unfortunately able to return back to Mexico for this years Cabalgata as I had hoped. This is the part of being a freelance photographer that is difficult at times to have a passion to create a body of work and to find the balance of doing the work you love and the work that pays the bills. I have to pay bills, and deal with taxes and see about marketing my work. Who wants pictures of Pancho Villa, Cowboys kissing the sweet baby Jesus, dead birds, fruits and roses, portraits of Mexicanos, and everyday saints? I am homesick for this country- I read up and look for work done by other writers and photographers to inform myself of the current debate of the border....It breaks my heart...and this morning is no exception. The powerful story of the journey home of one young man's dream that ended in the desert alone. I look at these pictures of his family and all the people who work ceaselessly to do what they do to bring some understanding to the mystery of what happened here....I sit in my warm bed,drinking coffee too early in the morning in my apartment overlooking the downtown and ponder how will I continue to pursue my work and think about lost dreams and sons, and what it means....what will my pictures mean to anyone
in the bigger scope of things? Does making these pictures and taking all my resources and putting it all on the line have meaning or purpose?? When I look and read this powerful photo essay about people I don't know I feel the power of the photographic medium to tie me to the subjects. They are like the families I have met on my own journey...their loss is my loss...and I feel it in my bones.

So I reflect over memories-I have looked at the images from last years Cabalgata almost everyday since my friend Jason and I were swept away in the spirit of Villa. Everyday I think of what I felt standing there at Laguna Fierro a year ago as the Cabalgata rode in to meet the waiting crowd of over 5,000 people the setting sun. I will always hear the booming voice of Jose' Luis, a bear of a man from Graciano asking me,"Where are you from?? WELCOME TO MEXCIO!!!" as he broadly gestures spreading his large arm spam across the horizon.... I will always remember the feeling of my heart being lifted up as if it were touched by a spiritual force, as if I had fallen in love at first sight....with the country, the people....I have lived with these images now for over a year; the man dancing with his horse, the wonder and excitement, the community celebrating, coming together, Nortenos, Country western music, the smell of carnitas, handsome cowboys,and beautiful dark eyed women and children, golden pink light blazing in the setting sun, dancing, eating fresh chile, being lost and being found; making eye contact through the camera as Pancho Villa makes his way through the crowd I see tears form and watch them slowly fall, glistening. I have relived this journey over and over for the past year beginning when I first prepared my first print of The Tears of Pancho Villa-an image that has been the catalyst, the image that garnered my first ever International recognition and found its way onto the cover of the Trappings of the American West catalog. I could not have known the endless variations of it and the ever expanding slideshow I would present would take on a life of it's own. It is only one picture. I look at the work of Dean Knuth and contemplate
the meaning of what I'm doing and feel it small in comparison.

BORDERS :Things to Think about

What is a border? Who is "us"? Who are "them"? I think about the ancient roads of the region, a land called MARATA when the first Spaniards began to map the "new" world. A place called Gran Chicimeca. A place that has old stories and complex mythologies and mysteries that still have not been unraveled. I am enchanted by this world in 2008. Down my street are the ancient ruins of Paquime; the Casas Grandes River, Monte Montezuma on the north south meridian, A theory by Steve Lekson, the Chaco Meridian, connects the dots beyond borders. Highway 89 goes from the Grand Canyon, past the Sacred Mountain, The San Francisco Peaks outside Flagstaff,AZ, crosses the land of mesas and the high desert plateaus, winds up and down canyons across Arizona into New Mexico,through river valleys into the desert valleys and straight on down to where I live in Mexico. It is literally the same road.

The Villista Cabalgata also makes this same north-south journey to the US/MEXICO border at Columbus,NM and Palomas,Mexico. The land is an exquisite valley. Vast space, fields, and sky. I go between the towns on my travels I always remember last springs afternoon traveling along with the Cabalgata;the shadowed mesas, the people from the various communities all out to greet the Cabalgantes, the riders. The festivities, the love for one's country on either side.

I return to America to the daily news ; What I hear is hatred spewing towards fellow human beings. Who is "us" ? Who are "they"? These people whose ancient ancestors walked these lands 1000 of years ago still are walking their ancestral lands which are now covered by freeways, housing developments,golf courses and malls. What happened to the open spaces? I find it painful to my eyes, to my psyche....I don't like to travel through the big cities. I want to feel the Spirit of the west. I wonder what desert life was like for the Hohokom 1000 of years ago...I imagine the smell of creosote after the rain when I close my eyes. I imagine empty space,lots of stars and sky. I imagine people sharing stories of the ocean, of the mountains, and canyons, and other peoples from far beyond. I think of what I learned from Carlos Careveo who worked on the site when he was a teenager, now a professor at University of Texas El Paso...I say the word Marata...and think about a land area that encompasses Northern Mexico,all of the southwest,Colorado to the northern plains....I feel a surge of expectation, vastness, the great diversity...I imagine people journeying on foot. I think about Africans who became slaves and were forcefully brought here, I think of freedom and justice for all, I think about racism,hate, I think about beauty, music, dance, culture...is this what happens when the arts are pulled from schools? Is this what happens when Fear overtakes rational thinking?

Now we have Sheriff Joe being a good will ambassador. What is it we support? What is human kindness, dignity,compassion?
How do we overcome ignorance? What is the value of LIfe itself ? I am sharing this tonight because reading some of these articles makes me feel sad; I don't understand the cruelty. I think about the beauty of the dream of America; I think about tribal peoples who have shared cultural resources from miles and miles away for thousands of years. I marvel at ancient pieces of pottery. I see beautiful Cliff Dwellings in Northern Arizona that look like cliff dwellings in the Mexican Sierras. How can you tell people to get out of a place they've always been??? I want the people who are screaming racial taunts along with Born in the USA to grasp that the Mexican people were born in the cradle of the Americas....but how can anyone make someone SEE?

I also realize that most people have no interest or no idea of the history of where they live. Perhaps they never went to a museum, or walked through a place where people lived thousands of years ago in their backyard, maybe they never were taught to appreciate the arts - or played outside or got lost in the beauty of nature.

The Cabalgata would be a great place to land if you were a visiting martian. Someone would embrace you and welcome you.
They would invite you to eat and stay with the family; You would be introduced and taken in. Perhaps it is a different experience for each of us, but I really do believe the best of what it means to be and act as Human Being goes beyond borders.
I have come to respect the generosity of Spirit of the people I have met during my time in Casas Grandes.

I feel compelled to go experience this and see what stories my pictures would tell? I think of Mexico. I am homesick for my
pueblo on the other side of the border. Meanwhile on this side, outside my downtown apartment drunk people scream ugly things at each other all night on the sidewalk at the local college bar...the police will come again, over and over. the ambulance,and the fire truck...more screaming...this is madness....and this is heaven...I want to hear birds, church bells, and roosters. I think of all the amazing things I've been exposed to this past year and sigh. How will the story unfold ???

In the words of Nikos Kaztanzakis, the Greek writer wrote, "To see. To record. To comment. " , that is my job as a photographer. I want to help people understand and value one another. Life is precious. The richness of what we could cultivate and protect for generations to come is invaluable. I hope to make pictures that will open people's hearts, help to question the sanity of our behavior towards our fellow humans, This is us. We are them. Who do we become ?

I wish my country and my state could have a better vision to resolve the issues. All I can do is make pictures and hopefully add a little light on the situation.