bronxdoc:

Arianna is one of the students in our pilot after school program. Watch her talk about her love of photography in the video below. And, make a gift to our Kickstarter to keep our after school program going. Just five days left! bronxdoc.org/kickstarter. #photo4all

I think the gap between the two places is finally closing somewhere in my psyche. It’s becoming more difficult for me to distinguish opposing moods and one place from the other.

unicorniacomegalletas:

La hispaniola desde el espacio.
Hermosa imagen de mi pais.

unicorniacomegalletas:

La hispaniola desde el espacio.

Hermosa imagen de mi pais.

(via yencid)

newyorker:

Forty years ago in Chile, General Augusto Pinochet and his military overthrew President Salvador Allende; today, even after the Chilean transition to democracy and Pinochet’s death, tensions remain. Here’s a look at Jon Lowenstein’s photos in the week leading up to Chile’s 2013 Presidential elections: http://nyr.kr/1fHIWWx

Top: Ana Gonzalez points to her late husband, Manuel Recabarren, in the only surviving picture of the couple with their six children.

Bottom-Left: A gallery of small black-and-white photographs of the disappeared, which hangs on a wall that spans the second and third floors of the Museum of Memory and Human Rights.

Bottom-Right: Ana Gonzalez, pictured in her home in Santiago.

Photographs by Jon Lowenstein.

(Source: newyorker.com, via darksilenceinsuburbia)

At about 9 years old I retaliated against my grandmother and decided I no longer wanted to live in my room. It was a baby’s room with it’s pink walls, minature closet, and stuffed animals hanging from the walls in plastic bags (so they wouldn’t get dirty of course). I wanted a big girl’s room. I wanted mami’s room with a TV and all! She was living in NY and wouldn’t be using it anyways! Mama gave in, with the condition I knew it was a “borrowed” room.

The first order of business was transferring my clothes to my new closet. It was the closest thing to a walk-in closet I had ever seen. I moved mami’s things aside and took the opportunity to snoop around her stuff.  To my surprise I found a few photo albums that I never knew existed. I’d never seen pictures of mami when she was little, mama when she was younger, and little did I know there was a man in her life before papi! These people that I called my relatives had a life. They even had a life before me!

I was scolded for snooping, not allowed to keep them for fear I’d ruin them, and once again they were placed out of reach. With time I forgot about them, moved back to NYC and that was that. When mama passed away, mami couldn’t tell me where the albums where, “I have no idea,” “Ask your aunt,” “It was all a blur.” Everyone was evasive.

But a few weeks ago, when I returned to DR, I asked my aunt for the opportunity to photograph all her photos, and out she came with mama’s old albums. Thank God for the digital revolution. At least now I have digital reproductions of them all.

A few weeks ago I was able to travel back to DR and this time with mami. It’s been 10 years since we’ve traveled together (a huge difference from when I was a kid and we’d make it there every year. 

In contrast to my 2005 trip with papi, this time I was the “guide.” The one who’d have to remind her who to call, who to visit, and that yes, bodegas deliver now (even if it’s just for a bag of chips).

We stayed in what used to be my grandmother’s house which we still call “La Casa de Mama” and slept in what used to be mami’s room. It seemed surreal not seeing mama’s altar, her rocking chair with a clear view of the street, nor her guanábana, guayaba, lime trees, and orquideas.

Back when mamá was around we’d spend our evenings en la galería, on rocking chairs, taking in the cool breeze while we awaited the return of la bendita luz (so mamá could watch her lucha libre). Back then securing the house meant having one lock on the door, closing las persianas closest to the door knob, and keeping a light on so people would think someone was home. (I’m a bit too young to say I ever experienced the days cuando se podía dormir con la puerta abierta.)

Today, sitting outside means pulling out fold up chairs in the front yard because sets of rocking chairs get stolen in the middle of the night. Security means keeping anything of even semi value out of eye’s view from the front door. It means caging in your home with bars over every opening, even el callejón. It means having an actual alarm system which we turn on every night, and keeping Bobita (our
doberman) en el patio. The nostalgia not only comes from missing mamá but from missing the way of life from before.

Regardless of those “superficial” changes, the warm ocean water, el malecon, the smells, the sounds, and of course the people are what keep me grounded to this place. It’s my family whom I care deeply about, despite only seeing and speaking to each other once every couple of years, and the feeling that I can’t shake of the other life I would have led if my mom decided to stay on the island.

Boot studio (at Harlem)

Boot studio (at Harlem)

at Lucie Foundation | Splashlight Studios

at Lucie Foundation | Splashlight Studios

On Photography: Culture, History, and the Narrative
Artists Aubrey Kauffman, Christopher Gianunzio, Doug DuBois, Groana Melendez, Carrie Schneider, Wendel White, Gary Schneider, and Elia Alba
Wednesday, September 25–Saturday, October 19Reception: Thursday, October 10, 5–7 p.m.Mason Gross GalleriesFREE

On Photography: Culture, History, and the Narrative

Artists Aubrey Kauffman, Christopher Gianunzio, Doug DuBois, Groana Melendez, Carrie Schneider, Wendel White, Gary Schneider, and Elia Alba

Wednesday, September 25–Saturday, October 19
Reception: Thursday, October 10, 5–7 p.m.
Mason Gross Galleries
FREE