Faces of Cuenca

Some have asked how I am passing my time while unemployed. The answer is that I have no trouble filling up a day that starts as a blank slate. I have been studying, volunteering, adventuring, and now, painting. I knew that I wanted to explore creative interests during this time, so for the past couple of months, I have allowed myself to dive in. As some of you know, I have been dabbling in watercolor for the past couple of years, mostly exploring landscapes and mountains. I am intrigued and intimidated by the flow and spontaneity that the medium necessitates. I have enjoyed looking at the world through a lens of light and shadow. I have challenged myself to see shape and color rather than familiar form. I try to approach painting with a spirit of curiosity and exploration rather than any sort of expectation.

I got the idea for my project Faces of Cuenca because I wanted to try portrait painting. I have long wanted to paint people but been too scared to try. This, I figured, was my opportunity to give it a shot. I went Cuenca’s main market, El Arenal, one Saturday and asked around among the vendors until I found people that consented for me to take their picture with the intention of painting it and giving them the painted portrait. I got some questioning looks and was best understood when I explained that I was learning and needed to practice painting. I was careful only to include those who truly seemed to understand my intention and wanted to take part. I did not want to participate in cultural colonialism or use my white privilege to gain ungranted access to personal spaces. I took 10 pictures of 10 people, collecting the phone numbers that I could WhatsApp when their portraits were done. 

The photos sat on my phone for a couple of weeks while I worked up the nerve to try to paint them. I started with Karen, a young woman who makes fried potato pancakes in one of the hallways in the market. 

Karen

Next I painted Rocio and Jaime. They both have booths in the artisanal part of the market, selling their own crafts on the weekends. Rocio was so happy to receive the portrait, she hugged me and had tears eyes.

Rocio

I had trouble contacting Jaime. The messages I sent went undelivered and Rocio told me that his booth had been tarped up for over a month. 

Jaime

Next, I pained Samira, the youngest of my participants. Her father was very enthusiastic about my project and held her while I took her photo. She was, however, more reluctant as is reflected in her portrait. I tried to reflect the truth of the moment in the portraits, rather than literally painting a rosier picture. Samira was not at the market the day I delivered the portraits, but her father was there, working in his tiny pet supply open-air booth, and he received it graciously.

Samira

Early on in our stay in Cuenca, we found our “fruit lady,” the friendly vendor who gives us great deals on mountains of fresh fruit and always includes a “yampa,” the extra fruit or two she throws in our bags at the end after we have payed. Through this project, I learned that her name is Miriam. She and her son, Alejandro, both enthusiastically participated. Half way through my first painting of Miriam, I realized that I needed to start using better quality paper and I needed to do a color study to see why some of my shadow areas were getting a muddy, granular appearance. I did color swatches and started over on higher quality paper and was happier with all of the subsequent paintings than with the first four.

Miriam

Alejandro

Rodrigo was next. He is Samira’s grandfather and was eager to participate after he saw his son, Samira’s father, wrestling with her for a pose. I was initially intimidated by painting his wrinkled face, which is why I didn’t paint him right after Samira. What I discovered through his portrait is that painting wrinkles is not that hard and really satisfying. He was thrilled to receive his portrait and commented that had he known, he would have shaved the day I took his photo. “Igualito” his son said upon seeing the portrait. 

Rodrigo

William was the only participant that did not give me any way to contact him. He is a quail egg vendor and circles the exterior of the market with his cart and told me that his phone had been stolen and that he didn’t know any other number to give me. “Estoy aquí siempre” (I’m always here) he told me. Just find him wandering around, he said. I didn’t find him. I wandered the external route with his portrait in hand. I then stayed still in the spot I met him a month earlier in hopes that he would pass by with his cart. I looked long at the faces of the other quail egg vendors that passed by, trying to decipher if the face behind the mask was that of William. I didn’t find him yet.

William

After William, I tackled painting Josephina, the only traditionally dressed person among my group. Her Spanish was broken and her nephew interpreted for me when I met her. He wasn’t there when I gave her the portrait and it was difficult to communicate to her that it was for her to keep. 

Josefina

Sandi was my last portrait as part of Faces of Cuenca. I saved her for last because I loved her sweet expression and I wanted to do it justice. 

Sandi

Faces of Cuenca has humbled me and inspired me. I love the challenge of capturing something human in my paintings, and I realize that I have a long way to go. My favorite thing about art of all forms is its ability to cut through the limitations of perceptions and language and touch on something beautiful and real: a grace that is shared and unifying without needing to say so. Opening up to creative possibilities and connections has been like a spring cleaning of the mind: clearing out cobwebs and old cluttered pathways and noticing potential and opportunities that I haven’t seen in years.  I’m not sure whether I will ever create anything of grace or consequence, but I hope that the joys and challenges of the creative process will keep me picking up my paint brushes. 

And, in the months that remain of my time here in Cuenca, when I go to the market to buy my fruits and vegetables, I’ll bring Jaime and William along with me in my backpack in hopes of delivering them to themselves.

My gallery the night before delivery