HANDMADEJose Garcia Antonio, blind master potter from Mexico and one of his seductive clay mermaids, made onsite at the market. There are incredible markets around the world and then there is the International Folk Art Market in Santa Fe, New Mexico, an event that has been happening every July in Museum Hill since 2. Named the face of peace and the number one arts festival in the US by USA Today, this is the biggest global gathering of its kind. This year, 2. 5,0. 3d Paper Craft Model Making Keygen Idm CrackThe market starts with a parade of the artists welcomed by the city of Santa Fe as they gather in the main plaza welcomed by a Cuban live band. Li Edelkoort, the honorary chair for 2. Keith Recker, the creative director, read the names of each country and cried when Syria was called. A hedge is an investment position intended to offset potential losses or gains that may be incurred by a companion investment. In simple language, a hedge is used to. Usage Statistics for communitygaze.com Summary Period: June 2017 - Search String Generated 01-Jul-2017 02:11 PDT. Http:// http://ja.bab.la/%E8%BE%9E%E6%9B%B8/%E8%8B%B1%E8%AA%9E-%E6%97%A5%E6%9C%AC%E8%AA%9E/coup.html. Handcraft more than ever is a strong direction for the future. Since the two past decades, we have seen an increasing interest in handmade; first to rediscover nearly. ![]() This market is humanity, humanity at its core” said Li to an audience of culture bearers who blur borders with an eye- dazzling convergence of handmade forms, textures, and designs—textiles, jewelry, beadwork, basketry, wood carvings, ceramics, rugs, glass and metal work, sculpture, mixed media, toys, and more. In these turbulent times, it’s an amazing experience to be part of something based on beauty and respect. Face to face with artists from over 5. As one of the 1. 54 artists who participated this year said, “The market is everything that’s right with the world” affirmed Keith Recker, IFAA Creative Director and board member. Kavita Parmar from IOU Project was a first time participant in Innovation Inspiration, a special exhibition area featuring works by 3. I have had the opportunity as a designer to present my work in many shows and fairs around the globe including fashion capitals like Paris, New York, Florence, Milan etc. I have never encountered such a strong sense of community and an incredibly beautiful empathy within the artisans, the clients and the many staff and volunteers of the IFAA. The client response I have had even after coming back from the show has reinforced my belief that the customer is looking for authenticity and a direct dialogue with the craftsperson and this is one of the answers to the future of a true luxury shopping experience. Carla Fernandez, from Mexico and also a first time participant, said that she was very surprised to encounter a spiritual experience sort of a boot camp of the positive, the possible and the future where sharing is the currency. She has been to many shows around the world just selling her products but this is the only time where she has felt a real support, a real sense of community. The show reaffirmed her belief that the future is handmade, that this is a possible and relevant future that can be a sustainable thriving business. She also said she encountered the real America, one that favors diversity and culture and a very different one from the one in the news. Porfirio Gutierrez from Oaxaca who participated in 2. To be accepted means to receive a special recognition and be the beneficiary of all the knowledge and care by a pull of top specialists in different areas such as branding, entrepreneurship, marketing etc. Porfirio was very proud to be chosen as a mentor this year, helping first time artisans to get around. Somporn Intaraprayong from Thailand, represented by Chinalai, has participated 8 times at the market. Her booth is the first stop of any serious textile collector and one of the first to sell out. This year she was invited as a panelist where she spoke from the heart about her community of seamstresses and sewers who use stitches to tell stories of the rice fields and their daily lives. She includes everyone who needs and wants to work, they all have a chance and get the most important teaching of all: there is also beauty in imperfection, beauty in every process, beauty in every stitch. Olga Reiche from Guatemala has been to the market 8 times representing pik’bil textiles from the Queckchi ethnic group of Coban. These lace type textiles were nearly extinct with all the Chinese imports. Olga, the daughter of a German and an indigenous woman from Coban, remembers visiting her grandmother and being mesmerized by her silver jewelry and intricate white lace dress made using one thread hand spun cotton, back strap loom and white on white. Eight years ago, Olga saw the market as the perfect place to present to the world this technique and to use this as an “excuse” to rescue the knowledge and convince the artisans that there is a market that appreciates their heritage. I have the highest respect for the show, I know I will be surrounded by the best of the best, all chosen carefully according to principles of ethics, respect, tradition, heritage and culture. There is no place in the world where artisans are respected and honored like in Santa Fe”. Olga travels to the market with Amalia Gue, a weaver from a remote village who at 3. Olga’s. Fe Francis is the name of Amalia’s baby, named after the patron of the city and the market. Indeed, this is not a market, this is a miracle, as one of the slogans claims. The Santa Fe Folk Art Market is a community of ideals around sustainability, entrepreneurship, empowerment, diversity, well being and cultural preservation. Artists go home with 9. This impact is especially great for disenfranchised women and artists from developing countries, where artisan work is second only to agriculture and daily income averages less than $3. For both consumers and artists, the most positive path to the future is handmade.” Affirms Keith Recker. Seeing these cultural treasures and meeting the artists creates a connectivity that stirs the heart, opens the mind, and invites us to speak a single language,” says Judith Espinar, a co- founder of the Market. Through folk art, hope grows and understanding spreads across the world.”Marcella Echavarriawww. Marcella Echavarria is a Colombian- born, Mexico City based lifestyle specialist. She collaborates with designers and artisans around the world developing links that connect local knowledge with global trends. Her specialty is branding luxury and sustainability in a way that preserves cultures and traditions. Instagram. Collectivo 1. Grados, a collective of Mexican potters, makes modern forms using traditional methods and finishes. Left: Densely stitched indigo textiles by Thailand’s Somporn Intaraprayong Right: Li Edelkoort shopping at Somporn’s stand. Generously scaled Thai tribal silver jewelry was included among the textiles at Somporn Intaraprayong’s stand. Detail of a hooked rug made from recycled clothing by Cooperative de las Alfombras de Mujeres Mayas de Guatemala, a group of over 6.An array of indigo and natural cotton textiles by Somporn Intaraprayong. Detail of the sensuous stitchery of Somporn Intaraprayong.Detail of the recycled running stitch quilts of India’s Siddi Quilters, an African diaspora group whose work combines Indian and ancestral influences.Naturally dyed silks by Somporn Intaraprayong.Peruvian textile artist, author, and community organizer Nilda Callanaupa demonstrating the basics of hand spinning the Incan way. Details of hand- sewn, hand- embroidered, and hand- trimmed traditional Mexican blouses. Nepalese carpet weaver Sandeep Pokhrel shows off the lush tactility of his work. Kyrgyz felter Fariza Sheisheye stands in front of a massive, masterful felt carpet that sold moments after the opening bell. Details of jackets and tunics from the workshop of Uzbek ikat master Fazlitdin Dadajonov, who learned his skills from his father and grandfather. A member of the Valadez family, whose Huichol yarn paintings and beaded objects are market favorites for over a decade. The sisal- beaded edges of Tintsaba baskets from a women’s cooperative in Swaziland. Rushana Burkhanova sits atop a luxuriant pile of intricate Uzbek rugs from the Bukhara Carpet Weaving School. Left: an embroidery artist from Qasab Kutch, whose revival of 1. Right: a sculpture from Mexico’s Juan Garcia Antonio Stitch by Stitch founded by designer Graham Hollick is run by Graham and Karen Sear Shimali. They work with embroiderers and textile artisans in Gujarat, India to create hand crafted contemporary textiles for the home. After several life- changing trips to India, Graham admits to feeling as though he must have lived in India in a past life. One of the things that really excites me about India, is the visibility of craftsmanship everywhere you go: statue makers, weavers, kite makers.. This is lost in our culture - it's just not an everyday thing." says Graham. Song of Myself. Won't you help support Day. Poems? 1. 81. 9- 1. I celebrate myself, and sing myself. And what I assume you shall assume. For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you. I loafe and invite my soul. I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass. My tongue, every atom of my blood, form'd from this soil, this air. Born here of parents born here from parents the same, and their. I, now thirty- seven years old in perfect health begin. Hoping to cease not till death. Creeds and schools in abeyance. Retiring back a while sufficed at what they are, but never forgotten. I harbor for good or bad, I permit to speak at every hazard. Nature without check with original energy. Houses and rooms are full of perfumes, the shelves are crowded with. I breathe the fragrance myself and know it and like it. The distillation would intoxicate me also, but I shall not let it. The atmosphere is not a perfume, it has no taste of the. It is for my mouth forever, I am in love with it. I will go to the bank by the wood and become undisguised and naked. I am mad for it to be in contact with me. The smoke of my own breath. Echoes, ripples, buzz'd whispers, love- root, silk- thread, crotch and vine. My respiration and inspiration, the beating of my heart, the passing. The sniff of green leaves and dry leaves, and of the shore and. The sound of the belch'd words of my voice loos'd to the eddies of. A few light kisses, a few embraces, a reaching around of arms. The play of shine and shade on the trees as the supple boughs wag. The delight alone or in the rush of the streets, or along the fields. The feeling of health, the full- noon trill, the song of me rising. Have you reckon'd a thousand acres much? Have you practis'd so long to learn to read? Have you felt so proud to get at the meaning of poems? Stop this day and night with me and you shall possess the origin of. You shall possess the good of the earth and sun, (there are millions. You shall no longer take things at second or third hand, nor look through. You shall not look through my eyes either, nor take things from me. You shall listen to all sides and filter them from your self. I have heard what the talkers were talking, the talk of the. But I do not talk of the beginning or the end. There was never any more inception than there is now. Nor any more youth or age than there is now. And will never be any more perfection than there is now. Nor any more heaven or hell than there is now. Urge and urge and urge. Always the procreant urge of the world. Out of the dimness opposite equals advance, always substance and. Always a knit of identity, always distinction, always a breed of life. To elaborate is no avail, learn'd and unlearn'd feel that it is so. Sure as the most certain sure, plumb in the uprights, well. Stout as a horse, affectionate, haughty, electrical. I and this mystery here we stand. Clear and sweet is my soul, and clear and sweet is all that is not my soul. Lack one lacks both, and the unseen is proved by the seen. Till that becomes unseen and receives proof in its turn. Showing the best and dividing it from the worst age vexes age. Knowing the perfect fitness and equanimity of things, while they. I am silent, and go bathe and admire myself. Welcome is every organ and attribute of me, and of any man hearty and clean. Not an inch nor a particle of an inch is vile, and none shall be. I am satisfied- -I see, dance, laugh, sing. As the hugging and loving bed- fellow sleeps at my side through the night. Leaving me baskets cover'd with white towels swelling the house with. Shall I postpone my acceptation and realization and scream at my eyes. That they turn from gazing after and down the road. And forthwith cipher and show me to a cent. Exactly the value of one and exactly the value of two, and which is ahead? Trippers and askers surround me. People I meet, the effect upon me of my early life or the ward and. I live in, or the nation. The latest dates, discoveries, inventions, societies, authors old and new. My dinner, dress, associates, looks, compliments, dues. The real or fancied indifference of some man or woman I love. The sickness of one of my folks or of myself, or ill- doing or loss. Battles, the horrors of fratricidal war, the fever of doubtful news. These come to me days and nights and go from me again. But they are not the Me myself. Apart from the pulling and hauling stands what I am. Stands amused, complacent, compassionating, idle, unitary. Looks down, is erect, or bends an arm on an impalpable certain rest. Looking with side- curved head curious what will come next. Both in and out of the game and watching and wondering at it. Backward I see in my own days where I sweated through fog with. I have no mockings or arguments, I witness and wait. I believe in you my soul, the other I am must not abase itself to you. And you must not be abased to the other. Loafe with me on the grass, loose the stop from your throat. Not words, not music or rhyme I want, not custom or lecture, not. Only the lull I like, the hum of your valved voice. I mind how once we lay such a transparent summer morning. How you settled your head athwart my hips and gently turn'd over upon me. And parted the shirt from my bosom- bone, and plunged your tongue. And reach'd till you felt my beard, and reach'd till you held my feet. Swiftly arose and spread around me the peace and knowledge that pass. And I know that the hand of God is the promise of my own. And I know that the spirit of God is the brother of my own. And that all the men ever born are also my brothers, and the women. And that a kelson of the creation is love. And limitless are leaves stiff or drooping in the fields. And brown ants in the little wells beneath them. And mossy scabs of the worm fence, heap'd stones, elder, mullein and. A child said What is the grass? How could I answer the child? I do not know what it is any more than he. I guess it must be the flag of my disposition, out of hopeful green. Or I guess it is the handkerchief of the Lord. A scented gift and remembrancer designedly dropt. Bearing the owner's name someway in the corners, that we may see. Whose? Or I guess the grass is itself a child, the produced babe of the vegetation. Or I guess it is a uniform hieroglyphic. And it means, Sprouting alike in broad zones and narrow zones. Growing among black folks as among white. Kanuck, Tuckahoe, Congressman, Cuff, I give them the same, I. And now it seems to me the beautiful uncut hair of graves. Tenderly will I use you curling grass. It may be you transpire from the breasts of young men. It may be if I had known them I would have loved them. It may be you are from old people, or from offspring taken soon out. And here you are the mothers' laps. This grass is very dark to be from the white heads of old mothers. Darker than the colorless beards of old men. Dark to come from under the faint red roofs of mouths. O I perceive after all so many uttering tongues. And I perceive they do not come from the roofs of mouths for nothing. I wish I could translate the hints about the dead young men and women. And the hints about old men and mothers, and the offspring taken. What do you think has become of the young and old men? And what do you think has become of the women and children? They are alive and well somewhere. The smallest sprout shows there is really no death. And if ever there was it led forward life, and does not wait at the. And ceas'd the moment life appear'd. All goes onward and outward, nothing collapses. And to die is different from what any one supposed, and luckier. Has any one supposed it lucky to be born? I hasten to inform him or her it is just as lucky to die, and I know it. I pass death with the dying and birth with the new- wash'd babe, and. And peruse manifold objects, no two alike and every one good. The earth good and the stars good, and their adjuncts all good. I am not an earth nor an adjunct of an earth. I am the mate and companion of people, all just as immortal and. They do not know how immortal, but I know.). Every kind for itself and its own, for me mine male and female. For me those that have been boys and that love women. For me the man that is proud and feels how it stings to be slighted. For me the sweet- heart and the old maid, for me mothers and the. For me lips that have smiled, eyes that have shed tears. For me children and the begetters of children. Undrape! you are not guilty to me, nor stale nor discarded. I see through the broadcloth and gingham whether or no. And am around, tenacious, acquisitive, tireless, and cannot be shaken away.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. Archives
November 2017
Categories |