I have several memories of visiting Colombia as a child. My memories of the landscape, culture, and people are still as vivid as always. I remember being in the capital, Bogotá,  riding in taxis and buses, watching the mountains role by, making eye contact with the llamas and cows on the side of the rode, smelling the various foods from the street vendors, and just taking it all in.

When we would take trips outside of Bogotá, many times, we would have take a special bus. Unlike buses here in the USA, it was a slightly different experience and these special buses are commonly referred to as “chivas.” Many times the chivas were overly decorated with bright colors and over loaded with people, merchandise and various livestock. Sometimes these bus rides would entail several hours of riding down winding dirt roads, through mountains, and sometimes over landslides at ridiculous speeds. I often wondered, how the chiva didn’t go tumbling down the mountain side. In my most recent travels to Colombia, the chiva is more of a tourist attraction now than a standard, but I can’t help reminiscing of the adrenaline rush as we hastily made our way to the next town.

artWALK @ TAC

31 W. Adams St.

Downtown, Jacksonville

5P-9P

Quality Time: Feeding Time

My mom taught us at a young age not to waste food. I have several fond memories of taking old bread and crackers to local duck ponds and feeding various critters. It became such a wonderful experience having all these animals come out of the woodwork for feeding time. To this day, I still find myself at the local duck pond reliving and re-enacting this memory.

18"x36" mixed media on canvas 2008

Lots of people who see this image find different ways of interpreting what’s going on. Someone once asked if it was symbolic of my roots, while others just stand amused and scared to ask. Well, here’s the story behind the painting:

My sister and I were raised by a single immigrant mother who was not afraid of working herself to death to give us a better life. She took on many odd jobs to make ends meet and to get us off of welfare & other government (though I still have fond memories of government cheese… ) Anyway, one of the many jobs my mom had was being a “maintenance” guy at our apartment building. If something needed mowing, cleaning, repairing, then my mom would take care of it. One day, we got new trashcans in for our building and my mom had the fantastic idea to fill them with water and Mr. Bubbles so we could have our very own mini swimming pools. This was repeated several times and every time was even better than the last. Just to spice things up, sometimes, we would put the dog in the trashcan or we would even hide in the cans and jump out as cars drove by.

it was a simpler time, a simpler place, with lots of uncomplicated emotions and just pure bliss. Recreating this memory in a painting is a constant reminder to me that if a trashcan could make me happy once then achieving happiness is always at my reach.

Seperation 20"x30" mixed media on canvas

I have a sister 2 years older than me. As children, we were inseparable in all we did. I have memories of my sister holding my hand wherever we went, if she had to leave my side she would often hug me and give me a kiss on the cheek. We had our moments of sibling rivalry that comes with being a kid, but what sticks in my head is the additional layer of protection and comfort she was in my life.

I have several memories of being separated from my sister. There was the one time we went to vacation bible school, I remember we just had a fantastic bus ride to the school where we entertained ourselves by yelling at truck drivers to “HONK YER HORN!!!” And you could not imagine the excitement and screaming involved when one of them actually blew their horn. As we unloaded from the bus they started to separate us by age and that’s when it happened. I could feel that sinking feeling in my gut as I realized I wasn’t by my sister, they sat me down with a Jesus coloring book page and a green crayon. I knew Jesus wasn’t green but I was so emotional and distracted that I remember carefully coloring him in green until I couldn’t hold it in any more and the tears started flowing. One of the teachers came over to me and I told her my stomach hurt and she asked if I wanted to see my sister, of course I said yes. Luckily, they reunited me with her and all was good again.

Then there was time my sister started kindergarten. I have several memories of watching her get on the bus and wishing I could be with her. It was a great day when I finally got to ride the bus to school with her, but a sad day when I found out we’d be separated again once we got to school. It was a vicious cycle but I finally learned to cope