Usa tus talentos creativos para fortalezer comundiades en Centro America – Use your creative talents to strengthen communities in Central America.
Apply to ArtCorps today – Aplica a la organizacion de ArtCorps: http://artcorp.org/wp/?p=1661
Usa tus talentos creativos para fortalezer comundiades en Centro America – Use your creative talents to strengthen communities in Central America.
Apply to ArtCorps today – Aplica a la organizacion de ArtCorps: http://artcorp.org/wp/?p=1661
Posted in Workshops
Aluna Theatre, in collaboration with Fundacion Imaginación, have developed a great example of youth workshops creating accessible media and creating communication that is relevant to their lives and contexts.
La Fundación Imaginación in Colombia works with youth affected by the armed conflict either indirectly as victims or as victimizers (as child soldiers).
Aluna Theatre created the workshops based on the feeling that ¨given opportunities to learn and permission to explore, these young people have a chance to open up new possibilities, both personal and practical¨ so important to people whose horizons have been shrunk by violence.
It´s a great project, please take a look at both websites for more info!

Aluna Theatre Outreach - Photo Diaries
Posted in Workshops
Tagged aluna theatre, armed conflict, child soldiers, colombia, fundacion imaginacion, medellin, photo diaries
Latin American Artist Residencies – Residencias de Artistas en America Latina
Residencia Corazón Casa de Artistas (Argentina – Visual and Performing arts)
Instituto Sacatar (Brazil, sculpture)
Proyecto Arrastrao (Brazil – Art, Design and education)
ArteSol (Brazil – Sustainable Crafts Creation)
Lugar a Dudas (Colombia – Visual arts)
Casa Tres Patios (Colombia – Visual arts)
Posted in Workshops
My cousin, Viviana Quintero, a fantastic writer, forensic anthropology enthusiast and philosopher, introduced me to the work of the most famous photojournalist in Colombia. Jesús Abad Colorado has worked for over 12 years capturing black and white images of struggle, hope and astonishing endurance. His work is coupled with my cousin’s, in a project to reconstruct and narrate the historic memories that linger after armed conflict. This human-rights project, ¨Memoria Historica¨ is intended to capture the truth, often hidden, of what was witnessed and suffered by victims of armed civil war in Colombia.
The process of collecting their memories involved community arts practices, and one-on-one interviews on difficult topics. After the collection period, these truths are brought to courts for justice, staring a communal healing process. A page describing their activities and process can be found here. At the bottom of the page is a link ¨descargar¨where you can download a comprehensive PDF. Use it and spread the word!
Posted in Workshops
Many weeks after my return I still wake up surprised there are no roosters and pigs signaling the start of a new day. I miss many things but I am also surprised how easy it has been to settle back into your old life, and to be tempted by old routines.
Every so often, a little thread sneaks its way into my cell phone, or through inconstant facebook chats or emails, and I am reminded through tiny updates and glimpses of what life was for me last year.
Today I received an email from Guillermo Anderson, a popular musician in Honduras who I invited to visit our town for a kid’s concert about respecting your environment. He is doing some amazing work with drumming circles for youth violence prevention. Please visit his blog at: http://guillermo-anderson.blogspot.com/
I will continue to publish and share these glimpses on this blog, and hopefully make it a site where Community Arts in Central and South America are showcased in all the variety and richness of the work.
Posted in Honduras History, La Ceiba
Tagged drumming, guillermo anderson, prevention, violence, youth
Tras muchos meses de trabajo, hemos logrado 5 capítulos de un historia. Voces, ideas, sonidos, risas, han quedado talladas en la memoria de una grabadorcita pequeña, luego cortadas en pequeños pedacitos, mezcladas con música y soltados a volar, a ver quien la comparte con su gente, quien le saca verdades a los personajes, a las anécdotas y al proceso de producción.
Por favor, compartan el trabajo!
Aqui se pueden oir y descargar todos los capítulos:
http://synergychronicles.podomatic.com/
Me he perdido en mi propia maqueta. Aquí las montañas crecen como burbujas, y no me acostumbro al diseño , como el de las dulces cordilleras que conozco. Todo el viaje de La Ceiba hasta Santa Helena lo he viajado por una maqueta modelada a mano con elevaciones medidas casa cien metros de altitud y una escala de 1:45. Yo soy de miñatura, lo mismo con las vacas, buses, arbolitos y todo lo que veo. El mar era un gelatina salada de diferentes tintes de azul, que reflejaba la luz del sol muy calmada. Ahora que se acerca el fin del año, toda esta tierra, que al principio era permanentemente tan inmensa, es una pequeña maqueta que cabe bajo mi cama.
Hoy derrepente aparecieron en ella unas piedras brutas y violentas, cubiertas de orquídeas y liquenes, y supe que estaba en tierra Maya. Las casitas de tablas de madera y techo de paja de palmera salían como brotecitos de las muchas montañitas cubiertas de selva o milpas de maíz. Inclusive las gotas que caían sobre la maqueta era Maya. Seria el ritmo de las voces dentro del bus, o la luz nostálgica que dejaban las nubes tras un día entero de lluvia, o será la trasnochada que me ha dejado somnolienta y romántica, pero desde que esas piedras gruñeron, todo lo que vía, lo reclamaba otra cultura que no era mía. Creo que la culpa la tiene la neblina y su reputación.
En fin, ahora estoy en Flores, lejos de Dani, un tanto perdida en la tierra Maya….
Posted in Guatemala
Tagged flores, guatemala, maya, naturaleza, santa helena, uaxactun, viajes
Recently our Valley was rocked by horrible news from the border. In Tamaulipas, Mexico, 74 people were murdered on their journey to the U.S border. Some of the victims came from small towns nearby El Nance and Tacualtuzte. The only two survivors are a Honduran and an Ecuatorian man who endured the dessert for days and have now returned to their countries. In many towns in Honduras, every family has undocumented members in the U.S working and sending part of their wages to build a house, for a birthday party, a medical exam or school fees in Honduras. Every single person in our youth group has a family member in the U.S who have crossed some part o the dessert to get there. Most of the migrants live in New Jersey or New Orleans and got there with the help of very expensive “coyotes”.
I walk with my kids. A little heard, a tiny cluster of young life, we wade through the heat from one town to the next. Its a short road from Tacualtuzte to El Nance. My legs move like small-town-Catracho legs, my feet drag the stones, the sun blazes overtop and sweat drips from my back quicker than I advance. The kids exaggerate how they will melt, faint and dehydrate on the 10 minute walk. We slug over to the bus shelter and rest.
Only ten minutes, and we are already exhausted. How can you survive the desert for days?
These days we are working on a radio-play. We have meetings in either El Nance or Tacualtuzte and develop the story, the characters, the sounds, the scenes. A unanimous decision was made by the group: the radio-play will be a romantic immigration story. We decided this before the Tamaulipas massacre, and now it seems so much more pressing to talk about these issues. In a strange foreshadowing, the kids picked this migration theme because it is a huge, and undigested part of their lives. There’s no moment where they have communally analyzed the reasons, the histories and the repercussions of these migrations. To start this work, the kids will be doing interviews to the people in town to gather as many stories as we can about the people who have gone abroad and their reasons for doing so…more work and updates will follow….
Posted in Honduras History
Ya casi será un mes desde que nos reunimos todos los artistas – gente creativa de energías increíbles – y compartimos mucho bajo tormentas eléctricas de alto voltaje, cerca de mares desquiciados y poderosos, y desaguamos la memoria de nuestro trabajo, retos y alegrías. Las memorias, igual que las olas y los rayos tienen su ritmo, su constancia y su olvido. Pero mas que nada, la memoria, individual y colectiva, se transforma con el tiempo, se ajusta a las casillas ideales de nuestras cabezas, y muy seguramente, en ocasiones nos miente sobre el pasado. Ahora, cuando pienso en el viaje a Atitlan y esa semana en El Pimental, todo lo que se vivió me parece parte de una pequeña utopía, un mundo un tanto irreal, asilado por paredes de manglar, aceras de agua, lleno de zancudos si, pero con un grado de tranquilidad que se acerca peligrosamente a la perfección.
Peligroso porque la realidad de las aldeas es otra, y el regreso implica digerir muchas memorias inéditas y enaltecidas. El regreso, el peregrinaje, de aquí para allá, de comunidades a familia a amigos esparcidos por la geografía y memoria Latina, es mas una metamorfosis que un camino inevitable. Y es en esta metamorfosis que sus caras, sus palabras e inclusive los trazos de sus acuarelas se congelan en los instantes cristalinos, compartidos en El Salvador.