Painting with an audience: FAQ’s

Art for All, Mural & Sculpture Event, Seville, Spain

“Oye, hija!”
Not ever in my life have I been addressed as “daughter”, not even by my own parents, but in Spain it seems to be the proper title for a paint-spattered, “world famous”, international, female mural painter, because I heard it at least thirty times a day.

I was very happy to be assigned one of the few walls on ground level (considering my frantic fear of heights) and did not envy my fellow painters at all who were working at 18m walls. But it did have its drawback: a constant audience. Not that I’m not used to that: it took me a while, but in Honduras I’ve learned to work while being surrounded by people with a complete different concept of personal space. It can happen that I’m painting while complete strangers are fingering my curls. Sometimes I have to ask people to move aside a little, so I can actually move my paintbrush over the surface. But in Honduras people are not very vocal or expressive. They’ll tell you they like your work (“Qué bonito”), and that’s about it.

Not so in Spain. Or, as I don’t pretend to know Spain, at least not so in the neighbourhood of Polígono San Pablo in Seville, Spain.
From the moment I’d bring out paint and brushes in the morning, a waterfall of comments started rolling over me, slowing down during siesta time (2-5pm) to become just as fierce again in the early evening hours. The most frequently asked question was:

What are you doing?

Once (a little bored after answering the same question for the umpteenth time), I answered in the following matter:

Currently, I’m in the process of blending three different tones of burned sienna into a special optical effect that will allow me to obtain an illusion of shadow on the ancient Maya glyph that represents the cardinal point of the East.

All I got back was a blank look. I had way more success with the following answer:

I’m painting.

Although totally nondescript and superfluous, it seemed to satisfy most onlookers.

The second most frequently asked question undoubtedly was:

Who’s paying for this?

Even though the people of San Pablo really seemed to appreciate our work, they were a bit worried that it was being financed with their tax money. When we assured them this was not the case at all, they seemed to like the murals all the better. Especially after the rumour went around that we are some of “the best muralists in the world”, some of us charging no less that $400,000 for a mural!

I think # 3 on the FAQ list was the kind of questions whether I could paint someone a portrait of his granddaughter or dog / the living room wall / bar stool / bathroom etc. The answer was no, of course. Sorry, but no time. (And they probably wouldn’t be able to afford it anyway, with the current rate of $400,000 per art work!).

Another biggie was, not surprisingly:

What does it mean…?

Again, I soon found out that short and simple answers were the most appreciated. I got in trouble a few times when I explained that the centre part of my mural represents the Maya past with the exception of the modern Maya guy sowing maize, thus representing the present. The audience did not agree. That cowboy did not belong in my mural and he didn’t look at all like a modern Maya man. When I explained that where I live (Copán, Honduras), the Maya men actually do look very much like him, I was told several times that no, he was no Maya Indian. Well, who am I to argue…

For the rest it wasn’t so much questions that were being asked, but comments that were made, as well as stories, anecdotes, monologues, reviews and recommendations. I heard many a life story (“My grandmother used to be a painter too, but then she got diabetes and…”), complete mural reviews, always ending with: “…but I like yours best!” (I bet they said that to all the artists!) and art criticism (“I love Inca art!”).

Funnily enough, no one ever bothered to ask me whether I had time to answer their questions or even if I'd speak Spanish in the first place!

And so I chatted my way through my mural Sometimes I pretended to be deaf or not able to understand Spanish. However, this didn’t stop people from talking to me at all. As a matter of fact, I observed quite a few people talking to themselves anyway and it also seemed completely normal for two, usually elder, women on their way shopping to stop in the middle of the pavement (generally in front of my mural) and just talk. The two of them. At the same time, I mean. So no, I don’t feel too guilty about sometimes shutting myself off. But as much as it was distractive, it was also a lot of fun to work in a residential area and to hear from its habitants. After all, they’ll have to live with what I and my fellow artists painted them, so I’m glad they seem to like it. A lot, actually, I think, from what I’ve heard. (All the time).
As one woman put it:

This neighbourhood used to be a piece of sh*t. Now I’m proud to live here!

It’s quite an honour to have contributed to that!
Carin Steen
On Art for All, Seville, Sept 27- Oct 10, 2010

Carin's art show in the ViaVia, this Sunday!

New! The latest excuses for skipping school! (From the teachers’ end…)

• Last Friday the teachers of the public school went all together to say goodbye to the former director of their school who apparently is dying. Beautiful, and a great gesture of compassion. But did the 1,000 or so students really have to lose yet another day of school because of it? Couldn’t the teachers have visited him on a Saturday????
• New this year: the rainy season has started and as usual it rains (hard) between 3-5pm. The director has decided that whenever it starts raining, the kids of the second shift (noon-5pm) should leave as soon as the first raindrops hit the roof. The idea behind this is that the kids won’t get wet. Reality is that they DO get wet, but wouldn’t if they’d stay at school till 5pm. The kids have already been dismissed four times at 3pm since Monday last week.
• And the best of all: Today the sun was at its full zenith, in other words, at noontime the sun was directly overhead and shadows were at their smallest. The children of the morning shift (7am-noon) were dismissed at 10am because they would surely get cancer if they would walk home at noon. Right…

Carin Steen

Let’s talk about the weather…

Compared to my home country Holland, everything here in the tropics is incredibly intense: the colours (vibrant green mountains against a clear blue sky and bougainvillea so pink, it hurts your eyes), the smells (seducing fragrance of tropical flowers and rotting garbage), passions (love, envy, anger and frustration), the music (whatever the style, it’s always LOUD!) and yes, the weather too. Hardly ever do we have a day that is “just nice”. It’s either extremely hot; so humid that it feels like you breathe pure water; or so dry that your skin screams for cream or oil. We even have amazingly cold days that, with a feeble 12°C, might not quite live up to the winters up north, but still, without any heating system, the chill creeps into your bones and make your fingers turn blue when working on the computer. The last few months have been far too dry and the green mountains faded from vivid green to a washed-out yellow. Cars passing by blow up thick clouds of dust that cover the whole world with a greyish film of dirt. The Copán River, such a freighting mass of water in the rainy season, is nothing more than a pathetic little stream. Gardens look miserable, harvests are ruined and potable water is so scarce that in most neighbourhoods there’s only water every other day.
But all that changed overnight last Sunday. Although a month too early for the rainy season, the first real storm broke over the valley of Copán around 8pm and made me realize yet again to be careful with what you wish for… For half an hour, the lightning was so intense that the sky was almost constantly lit up, treating us humble people to an impressive show of waving palm trees and rain falling down in thick curtains. Of course there was a black-out too, which made the whole thing all the more dramatic. And then, just as suddenly, the storm was over. The power came back on which was helpful while I was sweeping about two inches of water out of my house. But it wasn’t until the next day when I left for my morning hike that I realized how much damage the storm had caused: trees were uprooted all along the road, signs blown over and lamina roofs lifted from houses and stables. All throughout that day I heard stories from people from town and the surrounding villages about damage done. Some of our students in La Pintada were so frightened, they hid under the mattress. In El Tigre, where we run our Health and Sport Project, about 300 pine trees fell down and the roofs of several houses were completely blown away (see photo). Some of our students not only lost their roof, but also part of their livestock. One boy told how only six of the two dozen of chickens his family owns reappeared after the storm.
Since Sunday we have had two more rainstorms, but luckily none as hard-hitting. Hopefully it stays that way when the rainy season starts for real. Rain is still much needed. But so is a roof over your head. Especially when it rains.
Carin Steen

My job description

Some people think my job consists of being out in the villages all day, teaching, painting and having fun. It’s not. Fun, yes, teaching and painting all day, no. Being a director means I actually do a lot of directing. Besides directing, my job is mostly about writing reports, grant proposals, important emails, silly emails, annoying emails and unfortunately also a lot of spelling corrections in the reports of my darling employees whose native language is Spanish while mine isn’t, but who need my spelling check way more than I do theirs. And then there’re tons of evaluations; updating of websites and blogs; some more directing to do; even more orthographic disasters; and yes, occasionally I do conduct a workshop.
Anyway, there are also burdens I don’t have. I’m more than happy that we do not run a scholarship program or provide material aid to the community, so at least I don’t have to drag drop-outs back to school; deal with long lines of people who want just anything as long as it’s free; or dreadful inventories of goods received and distributed. But every once in a while there’s a person or family or even a whole community that touches your heart and makes you want to do something special. Maritza from the village of El Triunfo is one of those people and I’m glad we got the funding from Join!forkids to fix up the school (see a few posts back). We recently received some crates from Angela Rivas and Howard Rosenzweig that were used to transport marble for the bathroom in their new hotel and with some plywood, paint and imagination we transformed them in bright and colourful furniture for the “Carin Steen” Kindergarten in El Triunfo.
Another few of our favourite people are Ángel and Darwin Fuentes, two boys we have helped through school for the last few years (thanks to the support of our friend Cesar Borregón). The family’s just got a piece of land assigned and their biggest wish is to be able to build a small house. Not much is needed, but more than the family can afford. I said I’d try to find help and posted a request on our Facebook page. Less than two weeks later, helps is on its way: an ex-volunteer from Canada, Allison H. decided not to ask for any gifs for her upcoming wedding, but for donations for the Fuentes family instead. I can’t wait to bring them the good news! You see, not really my job, but a lot of fun.
By the way, Maritza Dubón came to town yesterday to register her month-old granddaughter. The little girl’s name is Carin Maritza. Poor thing, named after a Kindergarten!
Carin Steen

Not Going to the Fair

It’s become some sort of a tradition that really has nothing to do with our work. I mean, how educational is a trip to the Fair? What fun is it to see drunken guys slouched over tables, their pants wet with pee? The apathy on the faces of the people in charge of the games and rides? The complete lack of emotion when they hand you your plastic cheaper-than-cheap prize you won shooting blanks? The stink of stale beer, urine, unwashed bodies and cotton candy? Still, there is an undeniable appeal to it that makes me go year after year. Not that I’ll ever get into any of those scary rides without safety precautions. Not even the mini Ferris Wheel, despite my awe for the monstrous arms of the guy who turns the wheel manually! The colours (Pink! Orange! Yellow! Turquoise!) are just amazing and the not-so anatomically-correct “hot ladies” painted on the signs to attract the audience are almost too beautiful to be true… I LOVE the Fair that visits Copán every year. And in order not to make a fool of myself wandering around with my mouth half open in blissful wonder, I always bring along a bunch of kids. I invite them as “part of the scholarship” they receive from us, just to justify the whole thing. And truth is, the Fair is even better if you take some rascals who thoroughly enjoy risking a whiplash in the bumper cars, overdosing themselves on artificial colorants or getting dizzy and even a little scared on the Ferris Wheel.
But this year we never went. Josué, a kid with the greatest smile and cutest dimples in his cheeks who comes by our office everyday just to say hello, has been one of the lucky few always invited to the Fair. It was him who asked me weeks ago if were going again this year. "We’ll see,” I said. But then we were busy painting out of town, we took a day off, we’re doing tons of other stuff and before I knew it, the Fair was over and the grounds were abandoned but for layers of litter.
On Monday morning, after the festival of Copán was over for the year, Josué came by and hung around my desk, not looking as radiant as usual. It was only when I saw him that I realized we had missed our yearly excursion.
“We never went to the Fair, did we?” I said.
Josué was very quiet. After a while he asked:
“So you didn’t go to the Fair either?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Oh.” Josué was deadly quiet for a while. Then he said with a trembling lip. “I thought you went without us…”
Oh my God, what had I done!
“Of course not,” I assured him and it wasn’t until I solemnly swore, my right hand raised, the other one over my heart, that I would never EVER go to the Fair without inviting Josué, that the smile reappeared back on his face.
Oof…
So next year you’ll see me at the Fair again…
Carin Steen
Foto: Fair 2009, Josué in the middle

Painting in El Triunfo Part II

Yet again we were ready for a long, hot and dusty day. But the weather decided otherwise and the 1,5 hour trip to El Triunfo was wet and cold. Chilled to the bone we arrived in El Triunfo where we drove out the cold by hard physical labour. We put new screens in the windows, a new door for the latrine and a faucet inside the classroom. The furniture needed a second layer of paint and both inside and outside walls needed to be finished. But we were not alone. Although Marlen called in sick, we had the help of the teachers Alba and Maritza, and the adorable eight year old Alexander (“Chandi”). Soon we had an audience and even more help, because a bunch of girls also wanted to paint. Maritza brought us a pot of hot coffee, a neighbour pitched in with steaming elotes (corn on the cob) and Santiago, a curious kid on a bicycle, bought us cookies form the pulpería. It was hard work none the less and we didn’t finish until 5.30pm. But the job was done. The tiny school looked great with us looking as colourful as the building itself. Although we all dreamed of soaking in hot water, we skipped our plan to stop at the hot springs because it was late as it was. For now, mission accomplished…

But more work still needs to be done. We still have a few games in the making as well as a small library. There was no time to paint any murals (numbers, letters, shapes and such) on the inside walls, so I’ll do that next time I’ll be in the neighbourhood. We also plan to organize a few training sessions for Maritza and Alba as well as two young teachers from La Pintada. Hopefully I can convince them that kindergarten is all about playing, not about copying the alphabet. Still, whatever the children learn is better than nothing and I have great respect for Maritza and her friend Alba who are actually working as volunteers this year. Previously, Maritza earned a small stipend from the Municipality of Copán Ruinas (about $ 100 a month). Thing is, Maritza is a Liberal in heart and soul, and the new local government isn’t. So no more support for Maritza’s projects. That’s how things are done in Honduras. All the more reason to keep supporting this amazing woman.
Carin Steen

Painting in El Triunfo: Photos

Our helper Chandi

Marlen holding the baby girl

Estela and her family, at home (hold on to those boobies!)

Londin eating chicken soup at Maritza's.

Marlen and Kike cleaning brushes

Lourdes Estela, the baby for the first time in her father's hands.

Painting in El Triunfo Part I

Once upon a time, a long, long time ago, I met an amazing woman who changed her world and who keeps working her magic, even though she looks far from a fairy. Well, a godmother fairy maybe. I’m talking about Maritza Dubon from the tiny village of El Triunfo. One of the few things worthwhile mentioning about El Triunfo is that it is located almost two hours from Copán over dusty roads, just before the bigger community of Nueva Armenia. The road to Nueva Armenia cuts right through the village and thus it sees quite a bit of traffic (at least ten cars a day). Besides that, El Triunfo is more about what isn’t there. Or it used to be, because thanks to Maritza’s tireless efforts, a lot of help has found its way to the village. For starters, the children don’t have to walk to Nueva Armenia anymore to go to school. Years ago Maritza started her own school and soon the students didn’t fit in the one-room building anymore. She then somehow got the municipality to build her another, bigger building and the former school was turned into a kindergarten. Maritza herself taught grade 1-6 while her oldest daughter Lourdes Estela took care of the fifty-odd kinder-kids. Since I met Maritza I’ve been trying to help her here and there and the bond I feel with this community only became stronger when the kindergarten was named after me. (A great honour, yes. Also a great responsibility…)
Last year we helped the kinder with supplies and games and we also went to El Triunfo one day in January to paint the school of bare cinder blocks. We didn’t have any money designated for this, so we used whatever we had and the results was bright and colourful. An improvement, but I was very aware about things that still needed to be done and that even painting was a job half done with leftovers of water based paint. So I promised Maritza I’d try to look for funds and I was very happy to tell her that I indeed had gotten 850 euros from the Dutch foundation Join!forkids to fix up the school and make durable toys and educational material. So for the last few weeks the whole Arte Acción Copán Ruinas team has been working on making all sorts of games and toys. Elsa made a fabric busy-board with buttons, zippers and clips for the tiny ones to develop their motor skills. Marlen made a huge tick-tack-toe board with round and flower-shaped pillows. Kike and Londin made some shelves that I transformed with some paint into an interactive game. A memory game, cans to run on, more shelves… What a great job we have to be able to do this for a living! We haven’t finished inventing yet, but we found a rare gap in our busy schedules to be able to all go to El Triunfo again, to paint the school, but this time for real. We were all set, the car/driver/handyman hired, the only problem was that I hadn’t been able to confirm our visit with Maritza, because cell phone communication is spotty since she lives in a place high up in the mountains with no way to charge a battery. So it wasn’t until last Sunday that I finally got a hold of her and strangely enough she asked me if I couldn’t come another day. Why? Oh, because she was about to leave to El Jaral, to the maternity clinic there.
“Oh, I didn’t know you were pregnant again,” I said, realizing that Maritza always looks likes she’s in her fifth month or so.
“No, it isn’t me. It’s Estelita. I’m gonna be a grandmother!”
Oh. I quickly remembered to congratulate her on this fact while my brain did the math: Estela can’t be much older than fifteen. In fact, she is fifteen. Damn.
Anyway, I assured her we wouldn’t cause any trouble, that she only had to tell someone to open the school for us and that would be it. Of course I ended up buying a big basket with baby stuff and in the end we gave the brand new mom, the two grandmothers and the so far nameless baby girl a ride home. Three generations filled the cabin (Estela with cotton in her ears against the “evil air”). The other grandma, us and the painting supplies in the back of the pick-up. The father of the baby (there actually is a father of the baby) had already gone home from the clinic, because he couldn’t stand standing up any longer (???? I’ve seen women sitting /laying/ stretched out /slouched on any possible surface there for days!). Anyway, it was quite special to be there to take pictures of the father laying eyes on his daughter for the first time and of the baby’s arrival home (and the young mom holding her boobies that now seem to have a life of their own).
Then, after delivering the baby and such, we finally started to paint. We laughed, we worked, we got sunburned, but by the end of the day the furniture and outer walls looked quite nice. And that was just day 1.
To be continued….
Carin Steen

Funny, tough and meaningful...

Oops! It has been a while since the last post and that while I'm almost on my way to Canada again to help prepare a new bunch of Huron students for their trip to Honduras in May. But before that, here some of the funniest, toughest and most meaninful experiences of last year's group...

Carin

Funniest…

It’s tough to pick one moment. I would say just every day trying to get the kids at one particular table in the younger class to listen. They were so high energy but at the end of the day very entertaining. Bernice

I'm going to have to go with Krystle on this and say the times that we were in our room in the dark trying to entertain ourselves! Especially trying to speak in accent. Hahaha... it makes me laugh just thinking about it. Kayleen

Oh dear, where do I start!? Either throwing bugs on Jenn (sorry, Jenn) or incessantly chasing boys at the school with absolutely no success and constantly tripping over myself while they flawlessly scamper across the mountain. Lindsay

Although not funny when it happened, looking back I guess it makes a funny story...getting trapped in the house due to the fish line across the street, resulting in both Kayleen and I sitting in the dark trying to entertain ourselves...power was out. Krystle

Breaking into my homestay with Kara after getting locked out (this involved trying to get our keys to work for a good 20 mins, yelling pitifully for Gilma our host mom to come and help us, hanging off the garage wall for about 10 mins while contemplating climbing down the face of the door, and finally deciding to jump into the back of their pick up truck from the garage wall, all while a Honduran man watched and wondered what in the world us crazy gringas were doing. After which my host mom ran out from her bedroom screaming que paso! que paso! and told us we had to much beer to drink that night and were a little crazy as a result, that there was no reason why our keys would not have worked. ) Allison H.

Going into the tourist "market" and attempting to pay 3L for something that cost 50L. Needless to say the store clerk was not very impressed. Julie

Following Tony the one-eyed man around Copan to change traveler’s cheques with Lindsay (after we convinced him that changing them with his friend on the street was not going to fly). We finally found a shady little hole-in-the-wall, quite literally because it had only one bare bulb, where an elderly man was willing to rip Lindsay off. Danielle

Funny moments, oh, there were lots of them! I thought it was pretty funny when I joined the students on their first trip to Barbasco and while returning in the back of the pick-up truck, the kids from the neighbouring village of San Rafael (who receive English classes) were yelling at us. One of the students asked me what they were yelling. It was “bye-bye!” In ENGLISH!!!! Other funny moments: one student after the other losing her flip-flop or sandal in a tropical downpour that turns the streets into rivers. And don’t ever be late, because Londin will come and get you to drag your butt all the wat to Guatemala and back! Carin

Most meaningful…

Having the opportunity to go on the community walk with the kids and them trusting us enough to let us into their homes. Bernice

Seeing the change that the kids had from when we first arrived to when we left and also the change that that the community had. In the beginning there was a lot of shyness and curiousity, but when we left the kids were always happy and smiling and the community would come around and watch us during certain activities, even kids who were not in school started joining in the activities, I loved that!! :) Seeing their faces light up when we arrived each day... And swimming in the river with the kids, I loved that too, showing them that we could have fun just like them. Kayleen

Other than every moment I had with the kids in the schools, it would have to be when the boy in my host family (who is typically extremely shy) called me over one day all excited, only to sit with me and show me his family photo album! Lindsay

Seeing the excitement in the kids when we got there to set up for the movie night. Krystle

Seeing the smiles on the kids faces everyday, seeing them enjoying the activities, seeing the progression that took place over the course of three weeks in terms of our relationships with them and the way the kids acted around us, hearing the kids say when we left for the last time that if we ever did something like this again to come back to their community, and hearing from Wendy how much Gary (the teacher) appreciated us being there and thought that we had done something really special for the kids and he noticed a difference. Also I think I will always remember the kids from Santa Cruz running towards the truck and yelling excitedly at our arrival and in anticipation of watching a movie in and with their community. Allison H.

Seeing the results after each of our activities and seeing how the children progressed throughout our short time with them. Julie

Melvin's smile while being swung in a circle. He may not have always understood what was going on and he may have drooled all over himself and he may want to be a woman when he grows up, but his smiles will stick with me forever. Or Marco wanting to be an artist when he grows up (and knowing that he has a chance to work with Arte Acción through the new training program). Go Marco! Danielle

The one-on-one attention the students were able to give the kids that they otherwise never have, the fact that they really established relationships with the children, the fact that they were able to communicate despite not-perfect Spanish, the interaction with our instructors, just to name a few thinks! I also think the final evaluation we did was important, helpful and meaningful. Carin

Toughest…

Definitely leaving the kids was the toughest moment. It was so hard to leave Copán as well. Bernice

On the last day having to leave the children and the community. Seeing them for the last time and not knowing if I would see them again. And, like Allison, hearing what Gary had to say about us after we had left our last day. Kayleen

Saying goodbye...hardest thing I've ever had to do. Both to my host family and the kids in Barbasco. Lindsay

Saying goodbye is always hard. Krystle

Adjusting to the language the first week. Julie

Leaving on the last day and knowing that it is very likely, albeit not certain, that we may not see these kids again, that our experience, however great it was, had to come to an end. Allison H.

The evangelical church service. We were all insulted when they started translating just in time for the offering and then the message about women’s' place was too much. You all know that I'm a Christian, but I couldn't take that either. Danielle

Having fourteen volunteers and an anniversary event at the same time was a tough cookie! But then again, we couldn’t have organized the event without them… But I wish I’d had more “personal time” to spend with the students. Yes, I think for me the toughest was to have so many people to attend to, so many questions to answer, but at the same time, that’s part of the fun! Carin