Nonstop Inspiration

His hand hangs on my wall.

When I came to his home, about a year and a half ago, with five cameras to share, he made sure I knew he was interested in participating. He was usually front and center in the group of kids hanging around me, listening intently. He even accompanied a group of us around the grounds before ever holding a camera, planning shots, just eager to be a part of the project.

The Fundación Niños de los Andes cares for young people through most of their teen years, and he was one of the older boys there; slightly shorter than me, thin, muscular, with a delicate smile, long eyelashes and his short hair shaven to the skin on the sides of his head.

He got his turn with the camera the next day, and proceeded to break my heart with it. Looking at the images he captured later, I wanted every photo of his to be in the show. His hand behind the mesh and this one are the ones that made it in.

Here are a couple that didn’t.

Like the girl who started all of this, two years prior, his work inspired in me a deep sense of purpose. I wanted to make find more possibilities for him. Luz y Sombra's first show in Manizales, Colombia, came together, all the while my friends and I tried, without success, to find some opportunity for this talented artist to learn or work with other artists nearby. He and I friended each other on Facebook, hugged, said good-bye, and never saw or spoke to each other again. He had moved on to the next part of his life by the time I got back to the FNDLA a year later.

That return to FNDLA was just six months ago. When Henry and I came home from that adventure last July, all 100 printed photos of the photography show, Luz y Sombra traveled from Colombia to Oregon in my carry-on luggage. Things got really interesting around here when, about a month later, two Colombian chef friends came to visit our humble locale and infuse it with sabor.

Together, we put on a September-long, first time in the USA, Luz y Sombra show/photo sale at the steadfast Bay City Arts Center, complete with two foodtastic events.
It was tons of fun, but I was also on a serious mission, fueled by memories of my young friend shyly telling me he'd have liked to continue exploring his artistic talents, had it been a possibility. Pursuing study in the arts is about as practical a path for a Colombian street kid as it is for any person anywhere who wants to pay their bills. While taking pictures with me is fun, self-expression couldn’t be a future. Or could it?

Here’s where I want to high-five that hand, because I get to find out next summer. Thanks to the money raised at the Arts Center, I plan to return to Colombia with two art scholarships.

The money raised from that work and those kids' photos will pay for two big kids from the Fundación Niños de los Andes to attend one visual arts course each, at any of the city’s many schools. There is enough money for tuition, supplies, and transportation, so that creativity can be more than a childhood hobby for the older youngsters who have more to share.

There's no reason this can't keep going. Feel like taking part?

Starting on December 1, 2016, the rest of the photos for Luz y Sombra will be shown here, and on Facebook, and will be available for purchase. All proceeds will go to art scholarships for more kids from the foundation.

These particular printed visions are very special for another reason, but I'm going to wait until the day the show "drops" online to write more about that. December 1, see all of Luz y Sombra's photos, buy any of them, and make some dreams come true.

This one is no longer for sale though. It’s mine, along with the inspiration its young creator ignited within me, to see big kids chase their artistic side into adulthood.

Love is God

If you've ever visited this, my crusty little spot of the internet before, you may have noticed the "Secular Homeschool" button, down and to the left a bit. We, as a family, are part of a network of people who have taken on home education, without belief in a religion, and without use of religious homeschooling materials. This sort of thing is not easy to come by in the world of home education, so participating sometimes feels like slashing a path into the unknown with a big machete, learning and sharing new definitions for old words.

Let's start with the word, "secular." While it's true that I am now living a secular life, as a religionless person, I see the S word as saying nothing in particular about who we are as a family.  For us, "secular" does not mean anti-religion, and it certainly doesn't mean living a life devoid of faith, humility, and love. Truth be told, we have a lot in common with some of the believers in our lives. Don't you just love having things in common? I sure do.

Faith: If you've ever stooped over some cold dirt on a wet early spring morning to plant chard seeds, you know what faith is. If you've ever worked hard to earn money for a big goal, like a tablet or overseas trip, you are acting like that day will come when you will have it. Does this mean an unwavering belief that things will always go as planned? Certainly not. As a matter of fact, it means continuing forth, into the unknown, with a vague notion that you can handle the unpredictable inevitabilities along the way.

So began the big photography project: with a simple choice I made at the Fundación Niños de los Andes, near the end of  last year's stay, here in gorgeous Manizales, Colombia.

That's right, I'm back in la zona tropical!

Last June, a girl living in the Fundación asked to borrow my camera. I thought for a second, remembering that I had been advised not to give or loan the kids anything. I let it go into her small hands: an act of faith, for which I was rewarded with a camera full of special photos. The talent and photographic instincts displayed in the photos taken by the girl inspired me. I thought of this world, full of fancy things nobody uses anymore, and had an idea. After a year of asking my friends online and in real life to give me their unused digital cameras, I boarded a Colombia-bound plane three and a half weeks ago with six cameras, and a very fuzzy idea of what to do with them. I dunno, take them to the foundation? Get permission to loan them to kids? See what happens next?

With the help of a trusty friend here in Colombia, I spent about thirty hours with the kids at the foundation, over the course of three weeks, taking them aside in groups of five, explaining the basics of photography, and giving a pep talk to the effect of, "You are all artists. Artists use their unique perspective to share their story with the world."

I may not ascribe to any of the world's current religions, but I believe strongly in the magic that comes of kids being creative. Acting on that, my only hope was for some young people to enjoy the delicious discovery of self-expression. And take some neat pictures.

Humility: As news of this project spread, an incredible, unforeseeable opportunity emerged. We were granted use of space at a nationally-respected cultural institution to put on a show of the kids' best work. Is there a word for thrilled mixed with daunted? Because that's what I felt. Suddenly I felt the limitations of my abilities. Sure, I'm the big gringa with a bunch of cameras and horrible Spanish, but enough bragging. I had never put on a show in my own country, in my own language. What made me think I could pull it off here?

I could never have expected what would happen next. In came offers of help, in areas where I would need it most. How does one print and mount photos, turn in all pertinent paperwork, and publicize everything professionally - all in a language that one is still learning? Well, turns out, I don't have to know, because this idea has been a magnet, attracting loving souls who have emerged with their talents and abilities to help me accomplish all of the aspects of a real live art show.

Love: This is my fuel, and my guiding force. It's how I know I'm on the right track.Where there is love, something special is happening. After each photography session, when the children returned their cameras, we hugged and I thanked them for participating. The light in their eyes is something I recognized. It is the look of a child who felt and gave love.

Whether it was someone donating a camera or money, someone helping me manage the kids, an acquaintance calling contacts in important places, or complete strangers personally giving their energy to a project headed by a giant foreigner they had never met; as each person has come to this team, intent on presenting the kids' vision to the wider world, the love we feel for each other, for the children, for the future, for art, is what we have in common.