a masterpiece

I catch a view of my hand, and stop breathing for just a second. I breathe in again, this time without fear or shock. I'm going to have to get to know these new hands of mine.

They are no longer the smooth, tanned, taut, buttery canvasas that used to wrap freely around the steering wheel of my 71 VW squareback. The wrinkles and loosening of the skin show that I am growing. I am aging. I will be 35 this year. I know that is not old. I am a mother. I am a wife. A social worker. A woman. Dare I say...an artist? eek! No! I am still not ready to affix that label on myself. The lines and new spots on my hands map out a journey of my life. A fantastic and complicated journey, yet one that is always changing. Because...life...is always changing. With each new line, life doodles on my skin...I stand, observing the new work of art. A crisscross of patterns. I want to be critical because I don't like the composition initally. I quickly understand that won't help, as there are no corrections in these lines...they are done with sharpies-not pencil. So, I look for the story-the meaning-behind the artwork. I reflect.

I'm still reflecting. I still don't love the lines, but we are friends now. The lines are a growing family. I'm beginning to let go...to understand that life is an ongoing process of releasing and embracing. Again and again, over and over. Motherhood is bringing this into focus for me, in a way I have never experienced before. Just when I get used to myself and the regular-ness of everyday life, life will teach me that I don't really know the depth of my being- of our being- and offers me yet another opportunity to go deeper into my life, values, relationships, and the nitty-gritty of who I am underneath this canvas. I'm almost certain that with time, I will see the masterpiece. But that will take a well-trained eye.

sharing a park bench with Esteban Villa

Chalk it up Sacramento. Fremont park 16th and P streets. Colored chalk, square park parameters, artists at work, people at play, kids scribbling in squares covered in rainbow dust, music, and community. Carlos, Joaquin, and I enjoyed this event this morning.

As we were strolling on the path leading to the center of the park, we passed two benches with three older Hispanic men and a golden retriever lounging quietly watching the rhythm of the world around them. As we were passing, one man struck up conversation with us and we began to talk with them. The man stated he had created some major murals in Sacramento and was a retired art teacher at Sac State. He introduced himself as Esteban Villa. I instantly knew I was speaking to an ol wise one. He asked me flat out if I was an artist. I hesitated...not really knowing if I am or not....and responded "I would say that art holds a place in my heart." Soon this man invited me to look at a small photo album he pulled from his shirt pocket. He told me to place my coffee down on the bench next to him so I could have both hands to flip through his book. Instead, I parked myself between Esteban and his friend names Rudy--cozily sharing a park bench together. I began to look through the book of sketches he had placed on every page inside.
While I looked the sampling of sketches....punk rock girls, women with flowing hair, faces, and more faces placed on bits of paper, some receipts, some with color, some black ink....Esteban quietly shared little "Villa-isms" with me:

"draw everyday"
"Don't ever stop drawing"
" you have 8 hours to work, 8 hours to sleep, and 8 hours for yourself. Use them wisely, they are all yours. When they are gone, their gone".
"When it's your birthday, ask for boxes of these (pulling a pilot very fine black roller ball pen out of this pocket) "
"Teach him (Joaquin) the colors and shapes"

I was engaged and focused as he quietly shared his work and wisdom with me. In the meantime, Joaquin wandered the sidewalk art, trees, while Carlos chatted with who later became known as Rudy Quellar....who asked me when the last time Joaquin hugged a tree was. I quickly answered, about a week ago. Did you go to those BIg trees? he asked. I replied, " no we hugged a tree at our neighborhood park".
We all smiled and parted ways. We walked, they continued to sit on the benches under the trees.

What I came to find out, later upon researching about Esteban and his friends, is that he was a founding member of the Royal Chicano Air Force.The Royal Chicano Air Force (RCAF) is an artistic collective based in Sacramento. Initially named the Rebel Chicano Art Front, the RCAF was founded in 1969 to express the goals of the Chicano civil rights and labor organizing movement of the United Farm Workers. Its mission was to make available to the Chicano community a bilingual/bicultural arts center where artists could come together, exchange ideas, provide mutual support, and make available to the public artistic, cultural, and educational programs and events. www.rcaf.org

Basically he is a Chicano artist legend, someone who walked along with Cesar Chavez. Buddied around with Jose Montoya and the likes. Esteban Villa. It was an honor to share a park bench with him. Had we not taken time to say hello, make eye contact, and slow down, we may have whizzed by this experience that was quietly sitting there waiting to be found.

thank you Esteban. Oh yeah, and the dog's name was Brownie.