5.10.24

OTIS Sr. Exhibition

BOOKS!

Printing on BRICK.

It’s been 14 years since we graduated from OTIS and attending sr. exhibition is always a treat…but this year we ran into a trusty old friend. THIS. COUCH. We stole this couch from another floor, and moved it into the shared sr. studio space where all of us studio fam took turns sleeping on it. When I lost my housing during my last year due to the economic implosion of 2008…this couch came in handy when I needed a place to crash. Encountering this couch was just as MUCH as running into an old homie.

POSTERS!

5.10.24

Dr.Dori
Tunstall
visits GMD

This was totally a high fan-girl moment for me! I’ve been following Dr. Dori’s work for a minute, and was so excited when she announced she was moving to LA! I’m super grateful to work in an institution that will invest in hosting speakers like Dori on our campus. :)

Poster Design by my student
Syd Agyepong!

I’m looking forward to signing up for her classes!

4.20.24

At The Edge
Of The Sun

Things I loved;

1) This show is self organized, homies supporting homies.
2) It’s a body of work that pushes back on colonial and monolithic views of the latinidad.
3) It’s subversive AF! Hero paintings, covered in glitter. Aztec pyramid disco balls, spaceships made of speaker boxes.
4) it celebrates the intersectionality of being chicanx / latinx-especially here in Cali. It celebrates our bi-racial experiences, connections to the land and its histories. It celebrates the queer latinidad experience.
5) it exámenes the intersections of our cultures, and how resources/ class effect our experiences.
6) there are connections to place, from the valley, to Pomona, to Japanese Internment camps and the Mission district.
7) it’s a story about what has always been here, in LA. It celebrates what so much of the dominant culture has overlooked, displaced, abused exploited, devalued, dehumanized, red-lined, and defunded.

Packet #3

Viewing the eclipse this year was especially moving.

I’m still trying to
figure out why.

I suspect it has to do with how I felt that day, vs
how I felt during previous eclipse events.

Spring Break

My spring break was not in sync with my kids spring break this year, which gave me the opportunity to do some deep focused grad work, and then get my husband to play hookie so we could go watch Dune Pt.2.

He surprised me by buying tickets to see the film at the Chinese Theater in Hollywood. Despite living almost our whole lives in LA, neither of us has ever been! We Angelenos tend to eschew what the tourist comes here for. This place is gorgeous! Its entire structure is an artifact of such a specific time and place in culture. The full scale powder room was captivating to me.

JOY

Santa Monica Pier, kids spring break. There is so much joy in these memories, and while I know I am moving in the right direction back to myself, the difference between how I feel when I take these photos, vs how I feel when I look at them tells me to keep walking that path to wholeness and restoration of self.

For my actual day of birth, I took the day off of work, to relax and rest. The plan was to do nothing. But you know how that goes.

I got a call from Maxwell’s school around 9:30 AM. Max was having a severe allergic response to something and they were going to administer an epi pen and call 911.

Luna Luna
For my birthday, Jay treated us out to a day of art and good food. Not everyone has their own reaction to Luna Luna. Max is thoroughly freaked out and refuses to open his eyes. Sofia takes pictures.

We have fun talking about “taste” and that part of art appreciation is about figuring out what you like. Just like food. That’s why they call it “taste.” The kids love this idea.

Jay got me a cake from a “new/old” bakery. I gift myself some books from the book store at Hauser and Wirth.

Seeing the work of Lauren Halsey in person is probably my favorite part of the day. Her existence is infused with the ethics of Funk. From art making, to fashion to community care as the founder of SummaEverythang - a free produce box organization that steps into the food acess gaps created by urban food deserts.

Sounds about right.

titties out

The backyard is our outdoor home. Year-round I walk my path to check on my plant family. I see how they grow and change and respond to their environment. I give them things they ask for, and in the Spring and Summer, we are blessed with color, butterflies, bees, a green carpet to wrestle on, and sometimes we are even given food.

SMALL THINGS

  • White Sage Seedlings

    I’ve (finally) started white sage
    from seed successfully. White Sage has been heavily poached throughout Southern California from public and indigenous land.

  • Blueberry Buds

    I planted this blueberry last fall, this is their first showing of blueberry buds.
    The birds think they are mighty tasty.

  • Variegated Pink Lemon Buddy

    This poor tree was a rescue from my local nursery. After a year in a new pot with good citrus soil, it has new branches, and leaves and is making flowers. Maybe this year she will share some lemons.

  • Plum Wakes Up

    This tree hibernates during the winter. I sing
    “Are you dead, or are you sleeping?” every time I walk by it. When it wakes up I sing
    “I’m sure glad you aren’t dead.”
    (Satin in a Coffin Lyrics, by Modest Mouse)

Plant Stories

  • Salvia Leucantha, Mexican Bush Sage is a drought champion. She is a native plant that thrives with minimal water, symbolizing resilience in the face of scarcity. Her ability to prosper in arid conditions teaches us a valuable lesson: survival is not about the resources available but about making the most of what we have.

    Mexican Sage’s main purpose is in alleviating fears of the future and shifting the individual’s context so that the future possibilities begin to make more sense to them.

  • Lavendula stoechas, Spanish Lavender is probably what the ancient Greeks and Romans used to scent their bath water. The word Lavender is from Latin lavare (to wash).

    This plant was originally brought to Mexico by Spanish colonizers. lavender is often used to bring calm, cure tummy troubles and for cleansing away Hechizos.

  • These are a favorite flower of mine. My first “grown-up” home had Camellia Trees in the backyard that were over 80 years old and at least 18 feet tall. I knew I had found home when I spotted these trees growing in the backyard while doing a walk-through of our current home in 2022.

    Camellias in Southern California were brought here primarily by Japanese immigrants in the early 1900s. Many families started nurseries and built business with seeds they had brought with them.

    Descanso Gardens in La Cañada CA has the largest Camellia forest in the Americas. The forest is beautiful but has a shameful past. Two grower families, the Yoshimuras and the Uyematsus, were forced to sell their nurseries prior to their incarceration by the U.S. government during WWII. These plants, including rare and unique breeds of camellias, became the basis of the collection.

Packet #1

Coming home.

A handmade sign in a clean house
Camelia trees in bloom
Beni peeing with joy
Two tacos hot ‘n ready
Two cups of coffee
And a shared conversation
The big bottle of my home girl Cholula
A song I sing to my babies

  • Dr. Dori Tunstall at Cal ARTS

  • I got my book signed!

  • Dismantling Racism

  • Double duty for the halfers :P

Mom and Me date (Max)

A visit to a restored train depot, that houses an HO-scale train club that offers apprenticeships to kids who want to learn about running, building and maintaining a model railroad.

Maxwell has been enamored with trains since he was a baby, I used to think he loved the movie DUMBO because every time we put it on he became transfixed. At 3AM feedings, I would put on the film and he would eat, snuggle and fall back asleep just as the circus train completed it’s dramatic climb over the big hill. Later when his obsession with trains emerged I realized it was never about the baby elephant for him, it was always Casey Jr.

A few years ago I learned that my Great Great Grandfather was a train conductor in Mexico. He loved his job so much that he refused to wear anything but his work overalls, often dressing them up with a nice shirt, a Fedora and a suit Jacket for special occasions. Once my brother Nico told me about a dream he had of a man, crying in and speaking in French and Spanish “Mis hijos, Mis hijos…” he kept saying. Neither of us could decipher what it meant until a few months later, when I asked my Nana how her father had passed away—Marcel Chavez died in 1955 in a horrific train crash.

I hope that his spirit is comforted in seeing my son’s love for trains, and knowing his hija is a thriving 84-year-old great grand-mother.

RezDogs Finale

I fucking love this show so much. The sublime mix of comedy, swearing, poetry, history, modernity, authenticity, cultural shorthand, and heartbreak is a model for being all of what we are in the stories we tell. I’m going to miss all of these characters.

SKODEN.

It’s so satisfying to watch my kids eat—I am charmed at the sight of little chunks of fish and rice wobble their way into their perfect little mouths. Their lips full and puckered as they chew. When they were babies, they used to bounce with delight as they chewed. Sometimes they still do.

Sushi babies.

A GIFT FOR 4 YEAR OLD ME

In imagining La Barbie Cake, I sat with the memory of my first Morena doll— handed to me at 4 years old. Until that moment every doll I was handed had big blonde hair and blue eyes. They all looked like my mom, actually. And like most little girls, to me, my mom was the most beautiful woman in the world. I also knew I didn’t look like my mom, and with each Barbie gifted I was receiving an affirmation of what this world valued. I did not know how invisible that made me feel until the Sun Gold Malibu Morena landed in my little brown hands.
It was like a part of me burst into existence when I stared into her face. If there was a doll that had my hair, my eyes, my skin, in this little doll world, then there must be a place for me in the grown-up world too. I tracked this doll down on eBay, and when she arrived at my door, I took her out of the packing box and looked at her little face and I cried. I’m real. I’m real. I’m really really real.