Perry, 57, had been living on the streets of Portland, Oregon, for 26 or 27 years, he told me when my cousin Antonia introduced me in October 2015. A few years ago, he appropriated a big empty lot owned by a small apartment complex in the Sellwood-Moreland neighborhood. There he tends plants, builds sculptures out of found objects, and takes care of a cat. Click on a photo to enlarge it and to scroll through the photos and read more about Perry.
Perry grew up in Portland.
The owners of the lot let him be.
Perry rescued this cat from a dumpster when it was a kitten. “She follows me around. She’s 11.”
He’s made neat rows of the wild blackberry brambles. His arms are covered with scratches.
He doesn’t want to live inside.
He makes sculptures from things he finds.
He shows off his system for straining the rocks out of the dirt for his gardening.
Perry bikes around with a tarp-covered trailer picking up discarded objects for the garden.
“I recycle everything.”
When a building was torn down next door, Perry spent two weeks pulling nails out of the lumber so he could re-use it.
This gate Perry is building from some of his street finds.
Perry has a wide circle of friends–gardeners, schoolchildren, and other homeless people.
On cold winter days in New York, I’ve been looking at thousands of photos I took in Mexico last year. While the lovely warm colors of the landscapes and sky and flowers and buildings infuse me with warmth, the photos of women working in small businesses are most compelling. Their faces, their aprons, their hands tell their stories.
I took these pictures for Pro Mujer, a non-governmental organization that provides small loans and health care to women in Latin America. I published a few of the pictures here last year, but I want to share more images of these hard-working, lovely women. They live on on the outskirts of Mexico City and around the states of Hidalgo, Pachuca, Puebla, and Oaxaca.
Click on an image to enlarge it and see the caption and to scroll through all the images.
Flores Ramirez Brigida runs a tienda (a little store) in Colonia Benito Juarez, outside of Puebla.
Maria Blanca Martinez Tapia at her tienda, Colonia Benito Juarez, Puebla.
Maria Concepción has a tienda in her home, Colonia Volcanes, in the state of Puebla
Maria Concepción by her wedding photo, Colonia Volcanes, in the state of Puebla
Jesús Jimenez Hernandez makes alebrijes in her home workshop in Arrazola, south of Oaxaca. She sands each carved figure, like the fish in her hands, for about two hours before painting. She’s proud that the figures are made from a single piece of wood.
Jesús Jimenez Hernandez shows an alebrije she painted.
An alebrijes made by Jesús Jimenez Hernandez.
Jesús Jimenez Hernandez in her open-air alebrije workshop in her home in Arrazola, where many women paint these fanciful figures.
Sisters Isabel Gomez Santiago and Gloria Ines Gomez Santiago paint alebrijes in Arrizola, a small town outside of Oaxaca. This is Isabel using a hypodermic needle to make dots.
Isabel Gomez Santiago shows how she uses a hypodermic needle to paint dots.
Gloria Ines Gomez Santiago paints alebrije. She is quick and sure in her strokes.
Gloria Ines Gomez Santiago with a partially painted alebrije in her workshop.
Alebrijes in the workshop of Isabel Gomez Santiago and Gloria Ines Gomez Santiago, sisters who paint the figures in Arrizola, a small town outside of Oaxaca, Oaxaca.
Maximina Morales Morales, in her roadside stand in Zaachila, a small town south of Oaxaca, makes tortillas using a comal and wood fire.
Maximina Morales Morales cooks food on an open fire at her roadside stand in Zaachila, outside of Oaxaca.
Tortilla maker Maximina Morales Morales, with her daughter and family.
Maximina Morales Morales in her roadside stand in Zaachila.
Angelina Garcia, Plasticos, “Juquilita,” in San Agustin de Las Juntas outside of Oaxaca
Delia Gema Vicente Lopez makes tortas at “Comedor Santy,” Fonda, San Agustin De Las Juntas south of the city of Oaxaca.
A Pro Mujer client has come to make a payment on her micro-loan in San Sebastian Tutla outside of Oaxaca.
At San Sebastian Tutla, a, woman has come to make a payment on her loan. The women pay with stacks of coins and small bills.
Farmer in Chilcuahutla Hidalgo, Maria del Carmen Sandoval
Justina Reyes in her restaurante de mariscos, “La Langosta Enamorada,” in El Rosario neighborhood southeast of Oaxaca.
Araceli Ramirez Guzman at her Lavandería at Gomez Sandoval outside of Oaxaca
Erika de la Luz Alvino Calihua sells Tupperware from her home in San Andres Cholula, in the state of Puebla
Lazara Cristobal Medina, runs a tienda, Recauderia a Vale, in Colonia Benito Juarez, state of Puebla.
Ivonn Ena Paz Delgado makes and sells her hand-made clothing, San Sebastian Tutla.
Ivonn Ena Paz Delgado demonstrates how she makes her complicated machine-stitched embroidery.
Ivonn Ena Paz Delgado in her store/studio.
Some of the machine-stitched embroidery by Ivonn Ena Paz Delgado.
Margarita Gomez prepares to make tortillas.
Margarita Gomez, tortillas, El Rosario, southeast of Oaxaca in a roadside stand, Working with wood fire and comal, she makes handmade tortillas in a very traditional way.
Margarita Gomez makes tortillas over a wood-fired clay oven. Her fingers are smooth and delicate but she can flip the hot tortillas somehow.
Gabriela Gonzalez Lopez sells fresh produce and chickens at a crossroads near her farm in Ixmiquilpan.
Gabriela Gonzalez Lopez and her husband Esteban, in their greenhouse in Ixmiquilpan in the state of Hidalgo, north of Mexico City. They’re showing some ripening tomatoes and the seed packet with the type they grow: Number 7705, a hybrid (from Nunhems, Bayer Crop Science). GMO. Oh well.
María Elena Neri Flores and her son at her tienda in Tecámac across from a school. She sells her sewn goods including school uniforms and snacks.
María Elena Neri in her home sewing studio. The orange dress is a costume, but mostly she sews school uniforms.
Pollería in Tecámac.
Josefa Gomez Sanchez cuts up chickens in her pollería in Tecámac, North of Mexico City.
For the photos of Pro Mujer women I published here last year, here’s the link:
Brian and I became friends in Chicago right after he graduated from high school, and I had a crummy job downtown. We had big adventures, then fell out of touch for a long time. For 18 years, he has been very sick. This is the comic I drew after visiting him recently in Seattle, where he had moved:
These photos I took of Brian in 1971 and during a visit in 2015 to Seattle where he moved.
Update: Brian did move to Chicago last year. He persists.
A great moment in a great chilly brilliant day in New York:
I stopped in front of the Punjab Deli on Houston St. on the Lower East Side to lean on an iron rail basking for a few minutes in the sunshine. A tiny ancient person, bent over a bubbe cart, passed and said, “It’s nice in the sun.” I said it sure was. She stopped, turned her head up toward me, and out of the side of her mouth, like she was telling me a secret, she said, “I’m going to the corner for cookies.”
About five minutes later, I headed the same way, and she had just made it to the corner, that’s how slowly she was going. I was surprised that she went into the fancy Union Market. I went in behind her, but the narrow lanes were crowded, so I hesitated as the old woman trundled on. Then came the highlight of the day: She shouted at the good-looking tall people in the way, “Get the fuck outta the aisle.”
I went on to Tompkins Square Park in the East Village where the most magnificent elm is shedding its leaves.
Last week, after three months in Mexico, we were ready to go home, but home wasn’t ready for us, still icy and blustery. So we came to Tucson, Arizona, where we are loving the desert. Every big saguaro cactus has a big personality. Cholla needles glow. Tiny wildflowers are beginning to bloom. Streams run through the dry landscapes. Here are some pictures, primarily from the marvelous Saguaro National Park, Catalina State Park, and Sabino Canyon, part of a national forest. Thank big government for preserving these beautiful places. Click on a picture to enlarge it and you can scroll through the photos using the arrows.
In Last Vegas, pathetic retirees Morgan Freeman, Michael Douglas, Kevin Kline and Robert DeNiro run off to gamble and flirt. Why are terrible movies so good on the ADO buses in Mexico? It’s not the dubbing into Spanish–terrible Mexican movies are great on the ADO, too. We took the four-plus hours and two-plus movies bus from Oaxaca to Puebla before the New Year to meet our East Tennessee friends Ann and Bill. A few days later we moved to Cholula nearby, site of a giant, mostly unexcavated pyramid with a church on top.
Women line one street, cradling live chickens or hefting turkeys under their arms, waiting for buyers. On another street, women sell dried squash seeds and beans and corn and roasted peanuts. All around the square and inside the market building, vendors hawk bread and pastry, chocolate, meat, piles of peppers and tomatoes and onions. It’s Thursday, market day in Zaachila, a town about 12 miles from where we are staying in Oaxaca. It’s colorful, exotic, exciting. I don’t take pictures
I stand in line at the WC (2 pesos and you get a good amount of toilet paper to take into your stall). The ladies in line are mostly vendors wearing their aprons, braids down their backs. There’s no blending in for me in jeans and sneakers and straw hat and even at just 5′ 4″ more than a head taller than most of the women in line.
My oddness becomes even more clear when the tiny lady behind me taps me and in Spanish says, more or less, “This is for women.”
I turn and said, “Soy una mujer.” I am a woman.
The expression for utter embarrassment is universal. She cringes and looks horrified, and then giggles. All the women in line including me start laughing. I let her go ahead of me so she can get out of there, but I bet she’s going to be teased for awhile.
A quiet tomb
Above the market in Zaachila and behind the church is a small archaeological site–two Zapotec/Mixtec tombs. The only visitors while we are there were some policemen who come up to sit on benches under a tree to eat their lunch, and some girls in school uniforms who look like they were dodging grownups. If you click on any image, it will enlarge.
You know what you tell people to say in Mexico if you want them to smile for the camera? WHISKEY.
That’s one of the discoveries I made last week driving around for three days with the intrepid Yesenia Diaz Delgado, communications coordinator for Pro Mujer Mexico. Working as a volunteer, I took pictures of women who get loans and health care through the nonprofit. Here are some of the dynamic women working hard near Mexico City.