Back in 1997 the Photography and Spanish departments at my high school decided to get together and organize a trip to Mexico. My mother, being the awesome prescient woman she is, knew that I had to go on this trip. And go I did.
Thirteen years later and I’ve had lots of far off journeys since then, but that trip to Mexico still ranks up there with the best of the best. I mention it because I’m going back to Mexico soon — for the first time since then, and it feels like poor Mexico has already outdone itself for me. I wonder how can it possibly live up to that first trip.
I’ve felt this way about places before, when a holiday turns into an experience that practically changes your life, and it’s almost frightening to go back. Will it be as amazing as you remember or like the oatmeal pies you loved so much as a kid and are really a bit of a disappointment now. You end up wondering why you loved them so much in the first place. And I don’t want any kind of re-visiting disappointment to color my memories of Mexico. Not that I think I’m going to be disappointed. I’m pretty sure it’s going to be a whole different kind of awesome. No trip is the same. And this one is nowhere near a re-creation. Besides being 13 years older (ack!) and allowed to travel by myself these days, I’m headed to a totally different part of the country (the Baja) to visit the whales and have a little family vacation with my father and step-mother, rather than a group of photo and Spanish students all eager to escape their chaperones.
Actually I’m still amazed at how well our guardians did at keeping us all out of trouble. We flew from *lovely* Newark, NJ through Texas to Mexico City. Mexico City, in 1997, with no cell phones, and a group of maybe twenty, shall we say, “spirited” teenagers. I think about it now and those teachers must have been a little out of their minds. Although I know Mrs. H (Eileen Hohmuth-Lemonick, my most beloved favorite photo teacher) has since taken some unbelievably lucky kids from PDS to India and all over the planet since then, but she’s twelve kinds of awesome — and I hope she won’t mind me saying, has balls of steel.
I’m sorry, I’ve just realized I’ve used the word “awesome” three times already in this post. Either the west coast is really rubbing off on me, I need a better thesaurus, or all of the things are AWESOME! Oh well, at least I haven’t said “dude” yet.
Anyway, we shot Mexico City, Oaxaca, pyramids, zocalos, villages, Frida’s La Casa Azul, and Easter celebrations, and every single one was *awesome* I shot 30 rolls of Tri-x 400 (my fav black and white 35 mm film) on that trip and I finally scanned each and every one last year. So rather than jabber on about how awesome it all was, I’m going to put my celluloid memories where my mouth is. Hope you enjoy these at least a fraction of how much I enjoyed taking them. And if you’d like to see the larger collection on flickr, look here.
Just looking through them again now I keep thinking THE LIGHT, THE LIGHT! there’s just incredible light in Mexico. i mean maybe it’s just that latitude, but, dude, THE LIGHT!
boy with palm fronds
this boy jumped onto our car and started cleaning the windshield
I don't think "fussy" can come close to describing this expression
it's amazing how generously people will bare bits of their souls to you in photos
And that’s the part that will always stand out for me when I look through these, how incredibly generous the people we photographed were to let us truly see them. Thank you beautiful people. Thank you Mrs. H. Thank you my most awesome mother.
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