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.
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
Above the town of San Miguel de Allende, Mexico is the 160 acre nature preserve El Charco del Ingenio. Over the past few years this place has become one of my main centers for creativity and inspiration. I have had the privilege to shoot some of my best photographs in this space as well as work as an invited artist on an incredible land art project. For this project I built four large-scale altars, one to each of the four directions, incorporating different indigenous mythologies. When I returned to San Miguel this September, I knew I was going to have to do some new photography in the preserve. Although you are technically not allowed to be in the park after dark, if you go to watch the sunset and stay for a few hours they are generally tolerant. I always warn the guards that I will be there late just so we don’t scare the crap out of each other in the dark. Surprising men with big guns isn’t exactly high on my list of priorities.
The main beauty of the Charco is that there are a plethora of different ecosystems crammed into a small space. The area around San Miguel is a high altitude (7000ft), two-season (dry and rainy) climate. The plants are very hardy, and include massive prickly pear cactus trees, very spiny acacias, and lots of grasses. Water can be quite scarce at times. In the center of the park is a large dam created wetland that regularly hosts Autobahn bird watching tours and can flood or become a dry mud flat depending on the season. Below the dam there is a very steep rocky canyon with sheer hundred foot walls. On hot days you can climb down very sketchy ladders to the shady floor and sit on the boulders amongst cool pools of water. At the head of this canyon is a large natural spring or El Charco. This spring is said to be protected by a spirit, El Chan, that harms anyone who comes too close. There are many tales of drowning in the spring and apparently scuba divers have never found the bottom, just a maze of underwater tunnels. For some reason, depending on the season, the water changes colors and can range from white, red and orange to deep blues and greens.
Once again, my friend Nico came to assist and after watching the sunset from the cliffs over looking San Miguel, we got to work. The location I scouted was below the dam and above the spring where there are large pools of water and lots of boulders to climb on. Once we got started, a lovely bright half moon rose to illuminate the scene. We had such a beautiful experience that evening I’m not even sure I was really concentrating on the work. Behind us a small waterfall was trickling down, the air was warm and comfortable, the wind was calm, and to my absolute delight the fireflies decided to join us. To say this was a magical and memorable evening only saddens the great poets. At one point I think we almost decided to curl up on one of the big, flat, sun-warmed boulders to sleep under the stars. Honestly, I probably would have done just that if I weren’t half packed and leaving at eight in the morning.
What follows are the last images taken with my old Tamron 10-24 lens. After shooting probably 60,000 images with this lens, I am really starting to see the quality of the images degrading. I have heard that the cheap digital lenses eventually wear out, but this is the first one I have actually used to death. I am not unhappy with the intentions of this work, but I am not thrilled with the image quality. There were a lot of interesting shots in this group that just didn’t turn out well and I know it has much to do with my lens. So out with the old and in with the new, I am chomping at the bit to start using my new Nikon 10-24, yippie!
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.
Sometimes good ideas really do come like bolts of lightning. In early June, I went to my best friend and co-collaborator, Aloyse Blair’s, bachelorette party. We all flew out to Colorado for the Telluride Bluegrass Festival, where her sister Cecie, had rented a mansion on the ski hill serviced by private cars and a gondola. Aloyse and I had gone to Bluegrass several times when we were in our late teens and this was such a wonderful opportunity to go back.
We spent four days dancing, drinking, and having an incredible time with thirteen of the most wonderful girls on the planet. One day, while getting beers at the festival, it suddenly, with no warning, dawned on me that I should take photos with our horses. Although it might seem obvious, given that my family lives on a horse ranch, it had actually never even crossed my mind. Long exposure horses: “ghost horses.” When I got home from the festival, I told my mom who just laughed and said that she had been wondering when I would figure it out.
A few weeks later, after getting back from Montana, while I was taking my workshop at Anderson Ranch, I decided to start experimenting. I took my mom on a moonless night, and headed out into the field to meet my two elected models, George and Stoli. I had to have help with this shoot because the horses were really excited to have company and would have clearly knocked the tripod over. We used a few small lights to illuminate the horses from the front while I did my best not to get trampled.
As per my workshop, I tried to stay close to the camera and tell a story, to bring on the theater. One of the other exercises from the workshop was to choose the title for the image before it was made. The title of the first image below (and my favorite) is, “This Time She Came Prepared,” or as Arno nicknamed it, “George the Fire Eating Horse.” I am really happy with this work and I can’t wait to keep experimenting with horses in the future.
