Occasionally, I have to reach into the archives and pull something out for this photo of the week project. This was taken a few weeks back when I was on my family’s organic orchard in Coachella CA. I wish I had time to shoot every week, alas, I do not, but I am also happy to get to show this image as otherwise it may never have seen the light of day.
I have already written enough about the Ex-hacienda Jaral de Berrios here, so I won’t bore you with the details. These are some of the new images I finally got around to editing. I am trying some new techniques, using textures over the images to give them a little extra sum thin’ sum thin’. The textures are taken from Brooke Shaden’s texture collection. I like the effect and I am looking forward to creating a texture collection of my own. Thanks Brooke! #shadentextures
Over the past few months, I have been returning to the Ex-Hacienda Jaral de Berio (about which you can read more here), one of my absolute favorite places to photograph. Although, I have an ongoing series that generally fits together, this week I veered off from my usual work. I think in the past I have always, in so many ways, been portraying the spirit that haunts that place. After shooting all morning, suddenly in the afternoon, I had the urge to be the one that the ghosts were haunting. I found myself running around, pretending I was in some sort of horror film. I was hiding, running, trying to survive, and ultimately succumbing to a very Vertigo, moment, when it all gets to me and I commit suicide. So this week, I have decided not to just show one image for my photo of the week, but a whole little series. I would love to know which is your favorite, as only one can truly be my ‘photo of the week.’ Please leave me a message in the comments.
A few years ago, I walked three weeks of the camino Santiago in Northern Spain. All I carried for a camera was a little Cannon g12, but it served me well and proceeded to kick the bucket just after the trip. While walking, I tried to stop in each of the little towns, as well as the big cites and do a little sightseeing. Somewhere, that I cannot recall, I visited in an ancient church that was being renovated. The day was rainy, but the light was beautiful. To protect the weathered old statues, workers had covered them in a protective netting. There was something so eerie and haunting about these figures. This week, I took these images as my inspiration. Rather than netting, I chose fabric, but the result is similar.
The hacienda Jaral de Berrio, founded 1774, in the current state of Guanajuato, Mexico, was appointed to Miguel de Berrio y Zaldívar, Marquis of Jaral by Charles III, and was Mexico’s largest hacienda. Home to generations of the Berrio lineage, it’s wealthiest owner, Juan Nepomuceno de Moncada y Berrio was considered the richest man in Mexico during the 1830s, and was said to have left a hacienda to each of his 99 sons. During its heyday in the late 19th century, it housed up to 6500 people and had its own railway station, post office, two primary schools, and a parish church. As was the style in this Francophile obsessed society, the main building was lavishly furnished and the walls hand frescoed or plied with imported French wallpaper.
Today, the ex-hacienda is a beautiful decaying ruin that houses the Jaral de Berrio mezcal factory. Visitors have free range to explore every part of this building (at ones own risk of course). Walls are collapsing, the floors of second story rooms have fallen in places, leaving dangerous holes, ceilings expose open sky, and the whole place is overrun with vermin and birds. Completely ransacked over the years, there are no windows or doors, the wooden frames are stripped, fixtures are gone, and all of the copper wire has been pulled directly out of the plaster walls, leaving violent grooves. The ex-hacienda truly is the embodiment of the old cliché “faded glory.” That being said, it is possibly one of the most magical places I have ever been, and I am so lucky to have had the chance to visit several times.
These images were taken on two separate occasions and represent the dualities between light and dark, as well as a departure into a bit more lavish costuming. I have refrained from posting these images, as I am planning on regularly returning to this hacienda to continue to delve into this body of work. Regardless, it felt like unfinished business not to have posted something, and by something I mean a lot of photos.
I met Foxie Flambé last summer camping in Jackson Hole, Montana. We had both been invited to a spiritual gathering that celebrated the opening of the Sacred Door Trail, a 165-mile long, nondenominational, circular, pilgrimage route. For four days and nights, we kept a sacred fire burning, listened and participated, while spiritual leaders from faiths around the globe blessed the space. For many of us, it was an intense and changing experience, full of great joy and great release. On the last night, Foxie sidled up to me and asked if I would be interested in wearing a feather Mohawk. Obviously, I said yes.
Fast-forward seven months, I get an email from Foxie asking me to purchase a ticket for the festival event Leyend Eterna. At first, I balked, and totally missed the chance. I had reservations, the event was being held across the Mexicali border in a desert canyon in Baja, Mexico, an area known for border violence. Knowing I had missed the opportunity, I stopped thinking about it until a month later when I received another email, they had released more tickets. At the time I was traveling through Mexico and had nothing but a suitcase full of clothes, no camping gear whatsoever. Foxie promised me that she was fully equipped to host me. If I just showed up at her house in Orange County a day or so before the event to purchase food and pack, she had all the camping gear and costumes I would ever need. I bought the ticket.
One month, and a pickup truck brimming with gear later; I was watching the sunrise as we drove south. What followed was one of the most unique festival events I have ever attended. Leyenda is much like Burningman, but set in an arid desert canyon with an oasis of palm trees and fresh running hot and cold springs. The six hundred or so participants are assigned small campsites, each with their own natural hot tub. During the day, hot weather is offset by hiking up to icy waterfalls, where one can brave high rock jumps into the deep pools below. On Saturday, there is an annual pool party where all attendees come dressed in their finest festival regalia to dance, swim, and enjoy their vice of choice. Thankfully, the main stage does not bump twenty-four hours a day, which allows you to really enjoy the tranquil, natural beauty, of the place. At night though, the party is on and everyone gets down on the dance floor until the sun comes up.
I was encamped right next to the main stage with Hullabaloo. The core of camp Hullabaloo is a group of circus performers known as Lucent Dossier. Needless to say, over the top pranks, performances, and general shenanigans were the norm and there was never a moment when someone wasn’t in hysterics laughing. I felt super welcome in this group, and I am so thankful that knowing no one but Foxie, I was surrounded by such fun-loving, caring souls.
Each night, as the moment struck me, I snuck off and did photo shoots in the beautiful, moonless, desert, darkness. Although, on very dark nights the challenge is to figure out how to light myself, the stars that appear in these images really bring out a special beauty. For a few of these shoots, I was able to borrow Isis wings from Foxie, a special treat that I hope to revisit someday. I am really happy with the work that I accomplished over these four nights, the last being a photo shoot with Miss Foxie Flambé herself. Enjoy the images, and if anyone ever sends you an invite to Leyenda Eterna, don’t hesitate!
As always, double click to enlarge and please feel free to share, repost and subscribe. Xoxo –janelle
I have always been a great lover of natural hot springs, I seek them out and relish in their healing waters. Now, I am also a great lover of cenotes. Prior to this trip, I had never experienced these amazing formations created by underground rivers. The Yucatan peninsula, ancestral home of the Mayan people, is entirely limestone with no running surface water. Due to the extreme porosity of this rock, all of the fresh water is underground. Scientists believe that there are around six-thousand cenotes in this area and less than half have been documented. There are several types and they range from lakes and open sinkholes, to caves connected by underwater channels and passageways. In many areas, one can scuba dive and explore these magical, interconnected, and very dark places.
Believed by the Mayan people to be entrances to the underworld, cenotes served as both a source of water and a site for sacred rituals. They were the foundation for such great civilizations as Chichen Itza, Coba and Ek Balam. Many Mayan people still believe that spirits dwell in cenotes and thus they never learn to swim. Within many of the caves, stalactites and stalagmites are common formations, as are the fossils of shells and marine life dating back as far as 50 million years. Complex and interesting ecosystems, the crystal clear water is home to a variety of fish including a species of blind catfish. In many, tree roots extend hundreds of feet from above to reach the deep, water sources below. It is impossible not to be impressed by these natural wonders, and the opportunity to swim in them and take photographs is truly unworldly.
The cenotes pictured here are just outside the small town of Valladolid, deep in the jungle at the center of the peninsula. The local Mayan name for this group of cenotes is Dzitnup, and they are respectively referred to as X’kekén and Samulá. Only a two-hour drive from Cancun, these cenotes are often on the itinerary for huge tour groups. Knowing this, and to the surprise of the locals, I arrived just before opening at eight am, and was rewarded with two full hours completely by myself. The first cave was lit with colored LED lights that illuminate the stalactites and provide an added layer of surrealism to the images. Although, I started shooting while dressed and rarely work without clothes, I felt comfortable being nude and I really like the results. In the second cave I had to swim to the island with my dress in a bucket to keep it dry. Like an optical illusion, the water is perfectly clear, and it is almost impossible to tell the depth until you jump in. Thus, that which appears shallow in the foreground of this image is actually several meters deep. Though I visited a few other cenotes on this trip, I was never able to make more images but I am certain I will return in the future.
Be sure to click on the image to see a larger view as these cenotes are really amazing and in the last one I am a tiny figure on the island. As always, feel free to repost and sign up for e-mail blasts below if you don’t want to miss anything.
In mid August, I headed down to Cuernavaca, Mexico, to visit with my old friend Marela Zacarias. Marela grew up around Mexico City but currently resides in New York City; she was on a trip to visit family and I was invited to tag along. The house we stayed at has been in her family for generations. This beautiful compound is a bit like Marquez’s House of a Hundred Years of Solitude. It is built on a large sloping hillside that is terraced and ends in a deep barranca below. Each level accommodates different areas including gardens, swings, walkways, and swimming pools, all in various states of repair.
There is a special magic to a place like this, a place where there are echoes of parties long since past, children grown up, and a future yet to come. One can imagine golden era Hollywood starlets, flirting under the canopy of lush trees, limbs embracing each other like lovers. If you listen carefully you can hear the sounds of children squealing in delight as they dash down the waterslide, crashing into the grotto like swimming pool. Here and there are the shadows of gardens being taken back by the jungle, gardens that must have grown abundant tropical flowers. The past is present, but there is also a great deal of promise, as slowly the structures are being reinforced against a climate that loves to decay anything in its grasp. Who knows what mysteries will unfold or what tails of love will transpire.
On a trip to the local artisans market, I purchased a small handmade, papier-mâché tiger mask. As I have previously discussed, I am trying to incorporate some different costumes and props into my images. One of the things I have always liked about working with long exposures is the anonymity, as my face is usually blurred and unrecognizable. I think that this allows my viewers to place themselves into the images. Now that I am fequently working in full daylight, using my neutral density filter, I find that I am more recognizable and a masking is a great solution. In the past, I created a lot of images dealing with issues of masking, whether through makeup, costumes or just personal identity. I feel like this is an interesting integration between work that is old and new.
After the council of The 13 Grandmothers, my friend Terra Celeste and I went to Yellowstone National Park for the first full moon in August. Upon leaving Grandmother Margaret’s home, we were asked to take an offering to the Medicine Wheel in eastern Wyoming. This location is one of the oldest sacred spots in North America and may have been built over 10,000 years ago. Different indigenous tribes have been coming and doing sacred ceremonies there for so long, no one is exactly sure who built it in the first place. The meeting of the Grandmothers was a very intense experience, and it was really nice to complete the ceremony at the Medicine Wheel, with an offering of tobacco and prayers.
As we continued our journey, through the park to the town of West Yellowstone, we saw an owl, a pair of coyotes, and a buffalo, all wandering in the middle of the road. After arriving, we had quick dinner, checked into our hotel, and headed back into the park to see how geysers and thermal water look under a full moon. August in Yellowstone is high season, and you can expect throngs of tourists unless you head out in the middle of the night. With the exception of a few other photographers, we had the place to ourselves. If Yellowstone is a magical place by day, it is far more amazing by full moon. As we walked around the geysers, moist steam rolled off the thermal pools and punctuated the chilly air; intermittently enveloping us in shifting clouds of blinding, white, warmth.
Over the next two nights, we shot for several hours in the park and came up with some really nice new images. I would love to return to Yellowstone, as I feel like there is so much more we could have done. I love the color and texture in the park, from the vibrant blues of a full moon sky to the rainbow colors of the pools. Although, I think they do work in most of these shots, one of the hardest things about shooting in the park are the walkways. It was a real challenge to either incorporate them, or to hide them in the images. Regardless, I am very happy with what happened during this shoot. I think that a few of these photos really need to be viewed big, so please click on them to enlarge.
This summer I was invited by my friend Terra Celeste to attend the 11th council of the Thirteen Grandmothers. I had no idea what I was getting myself into by attending this gathering, and in a lot of ways the repercussions of this event may directly affect my life for the next several years. The thirteen grandmothers are indigenous women from different cultures around the world. They are on a mission to pray in their own individual and collective ceremonial ways in order to bring peace, and balance back to the universe. Although these women are often confined to walkers and wheelchairs, make no mistake; they are possibly the most powerful group of women I have ever encountered.
The Council was held on the Lame Deer Cheyenne reservation in eastern Montana. Cheyenne grandmother Margaret Behan hosted this gathering. Originally, three hundred participants were expected, but over the course of the four-day encampment, over seven hundred arrived from around the world. I, like many others, did not know what to expect but the importance of this council was quickly evident, especially in regard to the Cheyenne people.
Initially, the event was to be held at Grandmother Margaret’s house. After a forest fire came within a few hundred feet of her property only days before the opening, the gathering was moved to the local public powwow grounds, a move that proved to be quite fateful. Although, the grandmothers are on a peace mission, change often comes with great resistance. After only a short time on the reservation, I was given a crash course in tribal politics. Basically, it is tradition for the elder men to speak and hold council, and although women are generally free to express their opinions, they do not make important tribal decisions or hold councils of their own.
By bringing the grandmothers to the reservation, Margaret was going against thousands of years of tradition and was met with physical and psychological opposition. A group of militant young men came onto the powwow grounds before the event and threatened cause problems if the grandmothers did not cease and desist. This clearly shook up everyone involved and after a meeting between the grandmothers that lasted into the wee hours of the night, they decided to proceed. Thankfully they did, because this may have been one of the most important events held in recent Cheyenne history.
As the days progressed, the grandmothers prayed, and began telling their stores, both personal and historical. They told of war, oppression, massacre, marginalization, and the loss of land, food, water and children, they mourned the loss of old traditions and ways of living. Many white people also came forward with stores of their own, including the great grandniece of General Custer, who asked forgiveness for her family’s roll in oppressing and murdering the Cheyenne people. Slowly, the men started to come around, to hear the stories, and witness the healing the grandmothers were offering. By the end of the gathering, many of the tribal chiefs had don their feather headdresses and welcomed the grandmothers, thanking them for taking action and opening their eyes to the possibilities of a new future.
So much happened while I was at this event I cannot begin to summarize everything in this brief blog. Suffice to say, I saw a wild wolf, ran out into a lightning storm, witnessed a crowd react to a tiny ancient Nepali woman the way one would expect from a revival church, slept in a tipi, and made a promise I intend to keep. In our final meeting, Grandmother Margaret asked me to return to the reservation and hold a photography workshop for the local kids. I am just starting to work out the details of this agreement which involves a lot of research, grant writing, and planning, but hopefully by next summer I will be able to fulfill my commitment to Grandmother Margaret.
