Art as medecine
Somewhere in one of my drawers, I must still have the "Cheap Art Manifesto", most likely written by hippies in the eighties. From what I can remember it, more or less, says: "art nourishes the soul and therefore it is a universal right and shouldn’t be sold to rich people for millions of dollars in galleries. Art is to be sold on the streets and hung in kitchens…"
As you can imagine, I agreed straight away. Perhaps because that’s how my art is. Or maybe because the drawings that come to my mind and I put down on paper are not, for many people, considered like art. Sometimes, I get this feeling from other artists. Once, a well-known Mexican contemporary art photographer told me: the speech of an artist is more important that his work!
It’s her right to believe that. In fact, the discours of many contemporary artists seem to me to be art in itself. But I don’t fit into this model. I guess I’m not contemporary.
My art comes from a different perspective. It comes from a blank page, a brush, different kinds of colours and with the attitude of a child who wants to play. I hardly plan anything, I am not full of NEW PROJECTS and plans, I only create with the desire to know "what am I going to produce today?"
Even though, already advanced in my visual impairment, I keep making lots of artwork, maybe even more than before. Time flies…runs away?
I only master one technique, I can’t paint like this or that, like many great painters. I can only do what I do, and I just can’t stop myself from doing it since I started during one sad and rainy afternoon 42 years ago.
I try to put down on paper, using strong and happy colours, day-to-day situations of human life; love, relationships, family life, daily life with children and catch-ups with friends. Maybe it came from my quest for the meaning of life and the time when I didn’t speak any Spanish yet but was already living in Mexico: anyone could understand one of my drawings, someone from China, Africa or even the moon! We don’t need words. Emotions are expressed through my artwork. Even though I have known since a young age that the world is a painful place, my designs almost always express how to overcome pain, they talk about surprising new possibilities. Without speaking Spanish, it was impossible for me to do psychotherapy, which was my first passion.
Perhaps I’ve tried wordless therapy with my pictures?
And if it was so : above all, it was therapy for myself!
So, maybe THERE IR a speech in my art? My images tell stories about the everyday life we all know. They invite you to appreciate and give thanks for the little moments and joys of daily life and remember you that miracles do happen! When we show gratitude, we feel a bit happier.
My art is not in galleries and museums, it’s foundin kitchens and bathrooms, on café walls, on postcards kept in books and diaries…
Often people write to me when they have the opportunity to see a particular image again.
Sometimes they write to me decades after buying me the picture and from all over the world.
Not long ago, a woman told me that more than 30 years ago she had bought a t-shirt in USA with the design “MANY STRONG AND BEAUTIFUL WOMEN”. The t-shirt has fallen apart, and we don’t make them anymore. That’s why this lady cut out the design from her damaged t-shirt and framed the piece of fabric with the design, which now hangson the wall by her bed.
My art is produced in Kikimundo, Hidalgo #3, San Cristóbal de las Casas, Chiapas - Mexico, and from there makes its way to different places in Mexico and around the world. People find me there, congratulate me, hug me. It’s like we’re friends, when most of the time we’ve never even met before. They want to take selfies with me, and I give them hugs and smile for the photo. There is an exchange between us in these moments, which is more than art; the art, the picture, the book, is just the bridge.
That’s what I live for. I’m not bragging, even though it’s sweet honey for the ego and soul. I’m referring to the HUMAN ENCOUNTER that takes place. It creates hope and strength to overcome the many crises throughout life. Sometimes, the drawings go much further. I remember a family who lived in the United States for many years; where, at that time, I sold many items with my design on them. One of the nicest pieces was a woven blanket, and I sold many of it with the design "BOOKWOMAN", an image that I had painted for two lesbian friends who had a large feminist bookstore in Austin, Texas called BOOKWOMAN.
This family wrote to me: "our mother really was a BookWoman, a woman who lived to read books. She fell ill and knew that she was going to die. She asked us to bury her wrapped in her BOOKWOMAN blanket, and that’s what we did. And we just wanted you to know!"
Last year, a young girl found me and told me that she’d come to tell me that she was autistic. Although she now found easier to interact with other people, when she was little, she didn’t want to leave the house or interact with anyone. She lived on the other side of Mexico, but she regularly visited San Cristóbal with her parents. "I want you to know that when I came to San Cristóbal, I always came to your shop, in Kikimundo. I told my mum to go do her shopping and that I would wait her here with your drawings. It was the only place I didn’t feel afraid. I felt relax. And your lovely staff let me stay there for hours looking at the paintings and cards and that was my medicine."
We hugged and cried together.
A few years ago, a young woman wrote to me that her mother who was a fan of my art suffered from pulmonary fibrosis and asked me if I could do a painting for her.
What I did.
Until then I had no idea how difficult this disease was. Then, I forgot about the girl, forgot her name, but in our mutual aid groups there were several cases of pulmonary fibrosis and also around me and suddenly I thought of the girl’s mother. However, I never knew how to find her.
But, not long ago she wrote to me and left me very moved:
“Hello Kiki, a long time ago when I was 9 years old, I asked you if you could do a painting of my mother Patricia who suffered from pulmonary fibrosis. Unfortunately, my mother passed away 3 days ago, but I wanted to take the time to thank you with all my heart for this painting, she loved it so much and always admired your work. She always told us about your articles and that’s why I wanted to thank you for the picture you painted for her!”
This girl, Gaby, is now 13 and her sister, Sol, is 20. I went for a meal with the two young ladies, and they told me their incredible story about how their mother dealt with her illness with such intensity and had such a strong desire to live! She continued to work until not long before she passed away. She wrote…This woman was a true artist of life! She shared each step of her illness with her children and prepared them for this moment. Soon after the death of their mother, they are full of love and very peaceful ...
Yes, miracles do happen and sometimes we can create them!
These are some extraordinary encounters and experiences that I find both mysterious and magical. Art can provide comfort, refuge, medicine…And from there my little life takes on all its meaning.
This English translation has been possible thanks to the PerMondo project:
Free translation of website and documents for non-profit organisations.
A project managed by Mondo Agit. Translator: Lauren Cameron.