Paintings 2

 
Alebrijes Anyone who has been to Oaxaca, Mexico, knows what an alebrije is. For those who have not made the journey into that far-off magical land, an alebrije is a painted piece of wood that blends the carver’s hand and the painter’s heart with the spirit of the tree. Sometimes, the creator looks at the wood, senses its spirit, and draws that spirit out into the open. Sometimes, the creator seizes the wood, and imposes his own fantasy upon it. This latter act may develop the spirit of the creator but stifle the spirit of the wood. In my paintings certain beings, in search of a renewed life, have ambushed me in the dark night underground, surprising me with their determination to continue, or initiate, their existence and to be born or reborn. Here’s what I wrote about alebrijes in Sun and Moon: Poems from Oaxaca, Mexico (2000, p. 36): “Alebrijes are fantasy figures of metamorphosed animals and mythological monsters; they are carved from wood then painted in pointillistic style and sold to tourists.” Sold to tourists: indeed, they are; and I bought many of them, haggling with their creators or their creators’ representatives, and learning some of the secrets of their creation as I did so. So what exactly are alebrijes? As the poem says, they are “Half-glimpsed dreams, alive in the sunshine.” This does not answer the really important questions: “Do they pinch themselves awake, then spring to life from the roots and trunks of trees?” “Or are they fished from the dark seas of the creator’s mind, their underwater dampness dried in fiery blocks of painted wooden metaphors?” “In one corner of my mind, a neighbour’s dog barks bright colours from the flat-roof garden.” “In another corner, I dream dark angels with the bodies of butterflies. Their inverted wings spread umbrellas of colour above my head while ghosts walk by with brightly painted limbs.” ( ... to be continued ... )