lara

  
  On the first full "free" day we had in Benin we decided to visit Ganvié, a city in Lake Nokoué, made up of houses built on stilts.  The city is about 500 years old and was founded by people trying to escape slavery.  

The internets tell the story like this:

At the beginning of the seventeenth century the country was called Dahomey and was one of the most powerful states in West Africa. The major ethnic and linguistic group was the Fon and they had made a deal with the Portuguese. Rather than their own people being captured and sold in to slavery they made a contract with the Portuguese to hunt and sell tribes people from smaller ethnic groups.

The Fon warriors were numerous and powerful and there was little other groups of people could do to defend themselves against this onslaught. Then, someone among the Tofinu people came up with an idea. Their name is lost to history but one wise person realized that they could take advantage of the religious practices of their enemy.

The Fon were forbidden by their religion to advance upon and water bound settlement. Any groups of people who lived on water were, by the law of the Fon, safe. Lake Nokoué is simply immense. Ganvié was established as a means to escape being sold in to a lifetime’s slavery and shipped across the world in appalling conditions. No wonder its name means the collectivity of those who found peace at last. The alternative translation is the much more to the point We Survived.

The people of Ganvié are still, centuries later, reluctant to move to solid ground, although the threat of slavery is only a distant memory. They have, over many generations, grown accustomed to living on the water, and have no desire to abandon their unique lifestyle, for anything. This unique African village is completely sustainable, and the only time villagers go ashore is when they want to sell their fish.

  Approaching Ganvié was a site to behold.  Dirt road with a small bustling market of people selling and buying.  It was obvious fish was the main product here. Cows and goats were roaming the streets.  As like other parts of Benin and Togo we saw, there is no organized disposal system so mounds of trash could be found everywhere. This is also where you would find the cows and goats grazing for their meals.



  As we had already noticed with the rest of our trip to Togo and Benin, it is the women that do the selling and business.  Gender roles still seem extremely defined with men fishing and hunting and women and older children preparing and selling the fruits of the men's labor.  I read somewhere on the internets that men sell their fish to their wives who are then responsible for selling it to the public.



  I saw many a young woman scaling fish that was still writhing around or carrying trays of fresh catches on their heads down the street.  I have very few photos of actual people from Ganvié as they are extremely resistant to photos being taken.  I've heard they believe a photo steals their soul.  It wasn't unusual to see people turn their heads or cover their faces with baskets when they saw us assuming we would probably take their photo.  In fact, this woman in the photo below got quite unhappy and yelled at me for taking her photo which pretty much put me in my place after that!



  As we made our way to the boat docks to find our canoe we were either greeted by wary stares or extremely friendly children.  This young boy was very excited to pose for photos and, of course, after asked for money.  Unfortunately, none of us had any change.  (As an aside it was an ongoing challenge for us to have change and small bills as most merchants wouldn't take the large bills the ATMs inconveniently gave us).



  We got into our handmade canoe with trepidation.  I can not say I wasn't on the verge of a panic attack as well as perhaps a few others in our group as the canoe had small leaks in it and was very close to the water (not above it like other vessels most of us are used to being on including "American" canoes). There was no motors, just two men with paddles.

  As we made our way out to the city in the middle of the lake (it probably took a good hour to an hour and a half to paddle to) we learned of the ways fish are harvested which appear to have not changed much over time.



  There were some areas with nets set up on stakes but mostly the fishermen stalked the natural vegetation in the lake, creating boundaries of ownership, where fish were drawn to eat and then caught. Some of these areas had makeshift security huts built to keep watch over, others, I'm still not quite sure how they were kept sectioned off from other farmers.  Each of the little bunches of vegetation in the below photo served as fish bait.



  Very rarely did we see women fishing (if at all).  Mostly they were paddling between the land and their village.  Slow and steady.  Singing. We were told they sing when they're tired to make the paddling easier.



   Some rather friendly fishermen we passed:



  As we approached Ganvié the houses really were on stilts.  You could see right underneath them!
 

  And indeed it was a city, with neighborhoods, and canals that, like in Venice, had street names.  There was even a "street" called something like "lovers lane" in which in the evening young men and women take their canoes out to "cruise."
 

  We were there early afternoon which appeared to be a pretty high traffic time of day for doing errands. It was all women and children doing the canoeing and had things like water vessels in their canoes and bowls of different things.  They were all masters of maneuerving their boats around as well.  A few times i was sure there would be collisions but there never was.
 





  Ganvié has many of the same things any city would have, a medical clinic, a restaurant, a hotel, a convenience store and a church.  This was the only structure i saw that didn't appear to be cobbled together by whatever materials could be found.  The ground it was built on was created by the community going into the main land and bringing back soil.
 

  On the way back, as a fun photo, we took this of ourselves and boatsman, named "Junior" as i recall, whom in a very surreal way had our taxi driver who was also there take out his cell phone and play a song by Akon. I guess he's a popular artist both in America and Africa with the kids.
 

For other blog posts about this trip:
Initial Impressions of Togo

On the streets of Lomé, Togo

  There's nothing like going to another culture, one drastically different than your own, to make you realize what a small view of the world you actually have.  It's one thing to see photos, movies, tv . . . but another to experience it.

  I write this knowing I am an American.  A Caucasian female at that. And I've become over sensitive to how ignorant I truly am about other cultures.  And how I might offend unknowingly and with disregard, but with total innocence.

  The first day in Lomé we dove into the culture and went to a local market.  It was a culture shock to say the least!  I wanted to photograph everything!  It was the first time experiencing "urban" Africa and it was chaotic and overwhelmed every sense.  It was loud and confusing, smelled like exhaust and a myriad of different produce and fish and felt like dusty heat.  I was constantly aware that my breathing was rapid and adrenaline on high alert. 

  I was bashful about taking photos of people even though I desperately wanted to capture the women walking around with the trays of fish on their heads, trays of coconuts and mangos stacked on their heads, stalls of magnificent looking fruits and vegetables, children running around unfettered . . . But these are people too - just living their every day life, and being one of four white women walking around made me extra self-conscious that they weren't on display like in a musuem.

  Then, the one travel companion, who spoke French, said to me in an amusing way "you're causing quite a stir with your tattoos, many people are talking about them as we walk by" and I asked what they were saying, and she said "they have never seen those kind of tattoos and wonder if they're drawn on with pen or put on by a machine.”  I've become so oblivious to people looking and didn't realize how even more out of place I must've looked!  But once I started looking around more at people looking at me I realized how many were just staring, wide-eyed, not with any disdain, just a bit of curiosity.  Then a man walked past me and took a photo of me with his phone which kind of made me feel it acceptable to start taking photos as well.  Not in an obvious manner, but it just goes to show everyone has a view of the world they live in and we don’t often get to see parts of it we didn’t know existed. Everyone is on display in one way or antoher...

  Here are some photos taken with Hipstamatic on iPhone 4S, that, to me, illustrate the sounds, sights and smells of the city.  And to those who haven’t visited there, they are more images to log into your mind of a particular culture from an outsiders view.






















and here are two other posts about this trip:

Project Day in Benin

Tour of Ganvié

Travel art journal is complete for my upcoming trip to Africa and France!





The covers are made with chipboard, covered in tissue paper then painted.
For the pouch that holds the pens, tape and glue i used an old report cover, Inside is various scrap paper and envelopes to put things in.

Inside cover:



Can't wait to fill this baby up!

got a spring time pedicure complete with flowers :)

Cleaning off some old SD cards i found photos of this piece i made last fall for a friends birthday.

I really enjoyed making it and i'm putting it here to maybe remind me in the future when i'm stuck (again) what can be done with some texture, some buttons and wax. Oh and acrylic paint, of course.

This is the editors note from the Art issue of Hipstamatic's Snap magazine.
It really hit me like a ton of bricks what he was saying and the disappointment and disillusion I've had with my "art".
Yeah, that's right, I'm going back to putting that word in quotations.
At least as far as when describing whatever it is that I do.

The reason I believe i "failed" at trying to think i could sell my "art" was it was made without emotion.
Before i had convinced myself that perhaps a mass market might be interested in buying my creations, I thought about each piece i made, if it wasn't just for me, who it was for, as most of the satisfaction I get from making things is when i make things as gifts for other people.

I believe alot of things I made, did illicit emotion from me and from other people. That doesn't necessarily make it worthy of being labeled "art" but it served some functions - self pleasure and satisfaction and warmth and comfort for others.

When faced with the pressure that i had set a deadline on myself to do a market, and i should have at least 30 things to sell, probably, is where i lost the plot.

I unknowingly started the monologue in my head
"will other people like this,
will other people i don't know see any worth in this,
will a mass market like this,
how can i recreate the same thing over and over just so i have an inventory..."

i've now ended up with boxes full of SHIT i know i can never sell but i can't really throw away, because, well, it's "art" or some faction of it. And maybe some day i can rip it apart and make something new from it.

Yeah, I'm bitter that i let myself get to that point where i was just pretty much literally throwing paint on a canvas with some photograph thinking naively someone would see some sort of beauty in it. And because of this, it became ugly. Like the "art" Target or Walmart tries to sell.
Souless. Blasé. just, basically, shit.

It didn't feel good to make, there was no satisfaction or joy.
It was like eating an entire pizza knowing you shouldn't.
You still do it but you're miserable as you're doing it and full or remorse after.

So, i took a six month hiatus. Dust started forming on the tubes of paints and jars of mediums.
Piles of ephemera i kept accumulating for some sick reason transformed the studio into a scene you might see on hoarders.
I couldnt bare to step foot in the studio yet i couldnt stop buying cool stuff i felt like i might use someday.
Obviously and thank god I couldn't give up entirely on myself.
Just needed some time to re-evaluate, analyze, recharge.

Learn to trust my voice or at least have confidence in it again.
And slowly i've started to create some things again. Some things that mildly excite me.
Some things i need to figure out a way to destroy and start again in hope of making something that will excite me.

I am having problems finishing things i start.
Not sure if mentally i'm just trying to keep from creating a FAIL piece again so i just don't finish it.
Self protection i suppose.

I'm truly optimistic that my trip to Africa and Paris will ignite some of that passion again.
Whether it be photography or when i get home with mixed media. Or both.
Maybe some day soon I'll be able to remove those quotes around that three letter word with such a massive weight attached to it.

Lessons are always learned, and obviously i learned a HUGE one this last year.
Can't say i won't repeat it, because we all lose our way every now and then, but at least perhaps i have the skills not to fall so far next time.

Haven't done an art journal page in months but i've been missing this guy this week as we come upon the 1st anniversary of his leaving this world.

Quotes:

From Pass the Mic - "I give thanks for inspiration ... it guides my mind along the way"

From Namasté - Dark is not the opposite of light ... it's the absence of light"

I've been really enjoying the C-type Plate and D-type Plate films that Hipstmatic released a couple of months ago!

A couple of photos using these films...

C-type Plate film:


One of my favorite so far, this is using the Janes Lens and C-type Plate film


Another Janes Lens and C-type Plate film. From FDR State Park in Pine Mountain GA


Libatique Lens and C-type Plate film also from FDR State Park - this is a statue of FDR at Dowdells Knob.


Janes Lens and C-type Plate film

D-type Plate film:


Another view of the status with John S lens and D-type Plate film


From the front with Jane lanes and D-type Plate film


Tinto Lens and D-type Plate film in the late afternoon


Tinto Lens and D-type Plate film

Whoa Nelly - how has it been since June that I've not posted Hipstamatic photos? Thats crazy talk!
Its nice to have them here, as opposed to just flickr, so i can look and remember....

Wow. OK. Here's some miscellaney that was taken between August and October...

This was taken at magic hour in early August at the Brickstore Pub. I noticed the sun shining in through the window at the perfect angle backlighting the beer i was drinking:


Also in Decatur there is a statue of a bunch of kids playing in a fountain. I had taken a similar photo to this the year before but i wasnt quite centered right for my tastes, so i retook it and now it's lovely:


from the top of Stone Mountain with the Atlanta skyline in the background on a gorgeous early fall day:


I visited Oakland Cemetery again and shot a couple more statues:




and my favorite:


In mid-September I saw my first autumn leaf, and it looked effing AMAZING on the rusted cement:


Sitting outside there was a row of flowers near me that a butterfly kept flying around on. I was flabbergasted when i took this that my iphone captured such detail and with such clarity that butterfly in mid-flight!


In late September the pumkins started showing up, this was actually taken at a Home Depot!



To see the first eight volumes:
Volume One
Volume Two
Volume Three
Volume Four
Volume Five
Volume Six
Volume Seven
Volume Eight


To see roadtrips via the Hipstamatic viewfinder:
Hipsta Wisconsin
Hipsta House on the Rock
Hipsta Cali
Hipsta Texas
Hipsta South
Atlanta Oakland Cemetary
New Orleans
Washington DC


Everything on flickr:
Flickr Page

quantity versus quality.
thats how i fucked myself.
and for that my "art" and my creative soul have become a vacant chasm.

dont know how to even begin again.
and apparently forcing it just makes it worse.

all about cycles.

i just can't pull my shit together to feel creative. last night i had a dream about creating a heart made out of bottle caps. i can't even remember the last time i dreamt about art. i've now tried starting 3 different art journal pages. i get something down for the background then just lose any desire to finish. Cause i have nothing in my head about why i am creating a journal page. i cant think of anything i want to express or say. im just trying anything to get started again. to the light the fire. maybe thats the journal page.

I Give Up.
I need to Let Go.
to Re-Create.


Jesus Christ.
My last entry was 1.5 months ago.
I'm on a creative low.
I'm utterly destroyed by the feeling of failure i feel all around me at trying to get my "art" out there. To be honest, I had a challenge even calling what i do art before September, and now i REALLY feel that label is inadequate.

Rationally, I can say, i haven't really tried to get into the public. I haven't advertised, I haven't done more than two art shows, I'm not a good sales person, but still the realization i have sold NOTHING is overwhelming. Sitting for two days at an art festival, even if it was not my "'scene" and not selling a single thing, well it completely broke my self confidence.

I haven't been able to step foot into my studio. I haven't had any inspiring moments that stimulate my creative juices. It's more "habit" that i whip out my camera than joy.

I'm conflicted. But i know i have to step back.
I was afraid i didn't have the self confidence to "put myself out there" and I don't. I am not up to the rejection. After 41 years of life, and a "love me or leave me" attitude, I admit, i can not handle the rejection.
I have to take a step back.

Start back art journalling. The medium that allows you to feel creativity but allows you the freedom to make something ugly. No one has to see it but me. I need to figure out what the hell I'm trying to say. Cause in my haste to just make a bunch of shit to sell i lost that. A woman came into my tent at the last show where i sold nothing and pointed out to me that there was no passion in my work. And although i was, and am, a little offended i know she is abso-fucking-lutely right.

So, i guess i will wait.
Wait for any kind of creative passion returns.
Then channel it in a simple yet hopefully fulfilling way.




thanks for reading.