Our Lady of the Calle.

 
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I looked for her again this year in Oaxaca. Sleeping on cardboard on the cobblestone street by the Zocala. I couldn't find her for a few days and began to think the worst. And then there she was, sleeping in a chair stooped over with a blanket over her head. She seemed grateful, or appreciative of some food and some pesos but I handed her a photograph of herself from last year and she smiled. Then she laughed and laughed and I could hear the little muchacha she still is inside.
Our Lady of the Calle.

 

When I encountered this parade performer in Oaxaca, Mexico...

 
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When I encountered this parade performer in Oaxaca, Mexico two years ago I was riveted. As if every deeply gaurded secret of humans was revealed, as if every dark impulse was given a life. Our frightening shadows brought center stage.....safely. With aluminum foil daggers and red tempera blood. With grotesque masks that revealed warm, smiling eyes inviting me to photograph. And it felt so safe and right to hold both. Because life includes this shadow and rather it be given prime time in a street fiesta then suppressed until it grows into explosive behaviors.