Man and Long Shadow from Above, Taxco,
2009
When thinking of Mexico, Yona, who
hails from Havana, comes to mind for Mexico was the land of her
dreams. That was before she set foot on Mexican soil, for the Mexico
on her Cuban television screen and the real Mexico were not even
remotely comparable. Mexicans, as far as she was concerned, were
tall, wearing moustaches, sported gel in their hair, and were
gentlemen; the real Mexicans however were constantly whistling after
her so that she felt she couldn't cross a street without being
bothered. By the way, she loved being whistled after (she missed it
in Switzerland) but in Mexico (this was in Oaxaca) it was simply too
much.
What I also relate to Mexico is Malcolm
Lowry's novel „Under the Volcano“ (the story of an alcoholic
British consul in a small Mexican town on the Day of the Dead in the
late 1930s) and quite often pictures of that movie appear in my mind
when looking at Harvey Stein's photographs.
And then, there's Octavio Paz's
„Labyrinth of Solitude“: „The word death is not pronounced in
New York, in Paris, in London, because it burns the lips. The
Mexican, in contrast, is familiar with death, jokes about it,
caresses it, sleeps with it: it is one of his favourite toys and his
most steadfast love. True, there is perhaps as much fear in his
attitude as in that of others, but at least death is not hidden away:
he looks at it face to face, with impatience, disdain or irony.“
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