When David and I lived in Oaxaca, Mexico, we celebrated the Day of the Dead with our friends there. Marigolds. Cockscombs. Branches of ripe fuzzy nispero fruits (Loquat). Stilt-walking skeletons. Candle-lined catacombs. Bread baked and sugar sculpted to look like skulls. Ofrendas of whatever the ancestors enjoyed while living.
This year, to celebrate the Day of the Dead, I made an altar and drew a few of my ancestors.
To draw someone feels like praying. To look deeply at a photograph. The back of a hand. A chin. An eyelid. A whole being conjured in lines and shadows. To draw someone is a kind of magic.
Love through space and time
XO
Cassie
What a way to honor your lineage. So beautiful to have a window into your family. I wish I had gotten the chance to know your dad.
Your art is like your writing. Clean, poignant, easy to consume. Thank you for sharing