Waiting for the Muse

Sitting among plush chairs and sofas in the Fairmont Hotel lounge my friend and I toasted with champagne cocktails, yet another conference. We listened to the live band and waited for our friends to do their rounds.

A rock n' roll hall of famer took the mic and men from his generation asked to join us. They were with the conference. One conversation led to another, and the writer in the group held court. Effortlessly, we sat for hours, eating, conversing and drinking. When I asked him about his writing process he said easily, I just wait for the muse to arrive. I smiled, knowingly.

At some point finally noticed our friends had been waiting on us and I invited them to join us. The arts administrator exchanged cards with the writer. The writer invited us all to his home in San Antonio, where the next conference is to be held. He picked up the evenings tab and as part of us made our way out into the town he said to me in a familiar tone: Be careful out there. I assured him these where the same friends I had explored the streets of Guadalajara with last year.

*

We arrived at the house the Cal grads had partied at years before. This evening was about sharing Chicano Art and Music. If the conference was showcasing established artists, this house party was up and coming contemporary artist. The pulse of the scene, felt like what had been done in LA years before, sadly don't know if spaces as vibrant as the PRC remain today. Three bands preformed, Djs spun between sets, and the the walls were full of art.

I was taken by a painting of a gold and red human heart. The heart was suspended above a plot of golden land and green and brown crops that led into the purple mountains as the fiery sunset prepared to set. It was a large image set inside a picture box frame, with delicate burgundy curtains draped to the side.

The artist introduced himself, I complimented his work. He showed me the print that inspired the painting. The direction he was going, how it was a response to the death of his sister. Octavio: Mark my words, will be famous.

*

I opened up the box from my friend and found a lavender heart: The print I brought home is "La Sanacion," a heart on the mend by his and her hands.