"Do You Paint Tomatoes?" (pt.2)

Pedro grabs his keys and opens the door.  We walk outside and Tonya is paying him endless praises for his home and the wonderful lunch.  Pedro smiles and keeps saying ‘thanks, it was nothing’ etc.  There is something very real about Pedro.  Like I said before, I hardly know this guy.   I shook his hand, he sat on my couch and one week later I ate his food and now he’s taking me to his studio.  He seems so warm and personable.  When he smiles, there is a gap between his teeth.  I like that.  His eyes are big and bright.  He’s balding, but has an even salt and pepper spread of whiskers.  He has no pretense and is easy to talk to.  He is one of those guys you want to hang around with.  It is not far to his studio.  He opens the door and ushers us in.  We go up a flight or two of stairs and he opens the door.

The Banana painting. I love this one!

The room smells thick of fresh wood. It is the first thing I notice when we step in.  I spot a small, cozy bedroom.  It is what you would imagine.  Old pictures on the wall, a simple desk and wardrobe and beautiful ornate trim around the ceiling, doors and the center light fixture in the ceiling.  I look around and right in front of me is a fantastic painting of bananas.  It is a close up, and it is bright green and yellow.  I love it.  I point and say without hesitation how much I like this one. Pedro laughs, “Thank you.  It is one of the few I have actually finished!”  Behind me I see a pile of large frames.  “Have you been cutting wood? It smells like fresh wood?” and I point to the frames.  Pedro is actually in the midst of preparing for an exhibition in San Antonio for next year.  This explains why there is a pile of frames.

His studio is in an old building too, like his home.  It is worn in and extremely cozy and welcoming.  There are bookshelves full of books.  There are paintings everywhere.  He leads us into his main workspace.  It is two rooms, and not extravagant at all.  There are shelves housing several pieces colima dogs.  He explains how he got the pieces.  In short, he told the guy he got them from “I like dogs.  All I am interested in is dogs”.  He laughs at the matter of fact statement.  Obviously, he likes dogs.  There is a work in progress tacked to the wall.  It is quite large, and is almost a panoramic view of an ancient aqueduct that is not too far away form the city.  It is colorful and almost looks like some make believe image.  However, his photo taped up on an easel shows that it is accurate.  It is a huge ancient aqueduct that goes on forever into the horizon.  He explains what he has left to do and how he gets his technique.  This is up to him to explain, not me.

Another example of his work...did not see this in real life though.

There is a desk, piled high with books, papers and all sorts of stuff beside it an old chair with a huge, worn cushion on it.  In front of it is another big portrait in the works.  It is another one of is son, holding a bird. Very nice indeed.  Careful not to trod on things, we ease into the adjoining room.  Of course, there is another wall-sized painting on the wall in front of us, “…an old one” he says.  There is a canvas stretched and attached to the wall, almost a perfect square.  There are a series of circles on it, vaguely resembling oranges…at least that is what I think.  I am drawn to this half finished sketch.  I ask Pedro to come here.  He steps back into the room and I ask him what it will be.  I am wrong.  He laughs his laugh.  I like that laugh. “No.  It is not oranges or apples” he answers me.  “ It is tomatoes.” Cool, tomatoes. Why tomatoes? He is smiling. He explains that this is just yet another piece he must do for the upcoming show. Pedro leans towards me and gives a slight nudge as he explains how it came to be, “This guy asked me, ‘Hey-do you paint tomatoes?’”, he looks at me smiling and shrugs his shoulders. “Okay, I paint tomatoes”.  Simple.  I like it.  You nervously ask a guy if he paints tomatoes, and little do you know, he will actually paint tomatoes.

It is late afternoon, post time change.  The light is somewhat yellowish.  He’s got something on his windows, so it is diffused coming in.  He points back to the work in progress of the aqueduct.  “The lighting is not too good here.  That is why I have these.  They are great, look” and he goes to the wall and turns on a light switch. He’s got some special German made lamps that perfectly replicate daylight. “You can hardly tell they are on, but they are fantastic!”  We stand and look at the painting.  As the bulb warms up, the colors all of a sudden get more vibrant.   It is almost like a different painting. It is amazing. “You see, you can’t even tell a light has been turned on,” he says.  I hold my hand out to check the beam. True, you can’t tell if you were just looking at nothing, but noting how the canvas was before the light, it is obvious.

I notice some scrawled, handwritten notes on the wall above the light switch.  There are phone numbers and dates. He has a few pieces of paper pinned up.  “Look, here is my schedule and what I have to do” he says placing his big hand on the paper to flatten it out.  He starts at the top and starts down the list.  He laughs as he goes through it because he does not have many pieces finished.  “There are a lot to do, and a lot that are only half finished…as you can see” As he goes through the list he turns and points to the pieces that are in the studio.  Some of them, he just points in the general direction of where the piece is, and never takes his eyes off the list.

This is a Colima dog.

On the shelves that hold his colima dog collection, we both notice a skull.  On the table below there is a framed drawing, lying flat on its back.  There is a book covering up half of the piece, but you can see a sketch, almost clay colored, of the profile of a skull.  Tonya points and asks if he did that. “Oh yes” he says, and he moves the book so you can see the whole piece.  It is a pair of skulls, one woman and one man. “This is old,” he says pointing his finger to the corner of the drawing, “yes, see here, it is 1978.  I did that when I was living in Paris” he turns to the shelf and grabs the skull.  He explains of where he got the skull, and when he had brought it home, it was coincidentally the exact size of the skull he had sketched. 

“It is a funny story about this skull,” Pedro says. “I bought it at this store in New York”, he tells us the name of the store, and says how it was an odd place.  (Of course, by the time I am writing this, I have forgotten the shop’s name)  “I wanted to bring it home…to Mexico” he looks at us as he is spinning the tale. “people buy skulls all the time in the States, it is no big deal, right?” he asks.  We shrug our shoulders.  I suppose so, I never thought about it, but it makes sense. Pedro continues, “It is common there, but you just don’t walk into a store and buy a human skull in Mexico” he laughs nervously, “but in Mexico, in certain places, you may actually find one!” his insinuation is well understood. “I want to take this back with me to Mexico.  I pack my skull into my bag and it is no big deal going through US customs” he starts laughing as the story continues, “I suppose customs officials in the US are used to seeing skulls in suitcases and bags.  Why would it raise suspicion?  The problem was going to be getting it back into Mexico.” Pedro is laughing pretty solid by now.  “Everything was ok, and we land in Mexico.  I had packed my skull into my bag…you know, like a…” he stalls, trying to think of how to say ‘duffle’, “yes, like a duffle bag!  The girl in front of me was carrying fruit in her bag. She had apples in her bag.  You know how the officials are here” he says as he makes a grimaced face, “you cannot bring in apples and fruit.  It is a big deal!  They go crazy when people try to bring in fruits! So, the girl in front of me places her bag down, and I place mine down too.  They start going through her bag.  I am thinking of how I am going to explain my skull.  I am wondering what to say.  All of a sudden the officials spot the apples in her bag” he opens his eyes and acts out the rest, “They point and began yelling, ‘Apples!  You have apples!  That is not allowed!’ I grabbed my bag with my skull and walked away.  They were yelling at her and everyone was wondering what was going on.  This was my escape.  I just grabbed my bag and left, walked right passed them all” Pedro’s face is alight with laughter.  It is a great story, and funny too.

Tonya spots some other sculptures she is curious about on the other set of shelves.  They are stone gourds and squashes.  “Pick them up.  They are solid, they are very heavy” Pedro says.  I try.  He is right, solid.  They are beautiful though.  Tonya and Pedro discuss these.  They are ancient pieces, and according to both of them, quite rare. We chat about a few more things, and Pedro’s time frame for getting his pieces done. I see a small table in a corner with a beat up jambox and a stack of cds that are about to fall over. “Ha!  Music, you gotta have your tunes!” I say to Pedro. He nods in agreement, “Of course, I have to have music” I see the last Dylan cd, “Hey!  This is the one that has the song about Houston on it!” and I grab it, flip it over and point to the track. Pedro looks at the disc, “Oh yes.  You know, I don’t really like this album.  His voice is…” he tugs at his throat, “his voice is not good anymore.  He is not like the old Bob Dylan, the real Bob Dylan,” he says finishing his sentence with a laugh.

This painting is the cover of the book he gave us.

“Here” he says, as walks into the hallway.  He grabs and pulls out a certain book form beneath a bigger stack of books. “I want to give this to you” he says as he lays the book down.  He looks for a pen, and pushes some stuff around until he finds one.  He opens the book and starts writing, “This is for you.  You can translate for Tim later” and when he finishes writing, he hands the book to Tonya.  Obviously she is touched.
“Oh Pedro, that is so sweet” she says, and addresses him by his pet childhood name.  They hug and talk quietly.  He has given us a nice big book of his work. “It is English too, so you can read all the stuff Tonya already knows,” he says.

Pedro shows us some more stuff, and we walk back into the hallway.   I see the banana painting again.  Again, I comment on how much I like it.  He looks at the books behind us, and pulls a huge book out.  It is by Josef Koudelka. It is heavy.  “Do you know him?  He is a Czech photographer,” Pedro asks.  I start flipping through the book.  I tell him that I do not recognize the name. Pedro tells of how this guy rambles around and sleeps on peoples’ floors, not having a real home.  He spent a lot of time living with gypsies and was one who photographed the Russian invasion into Prague in ’68.  “All the magazines, Life, Time, all the big ones in America and Europe.  They ran his photos.  He had them published in a pseudonym, so he would not get arrested…” he says as we browse at the pictures.  I hit a page with a familiar photo. “I know this guy!  I had this picture on my fridge for a long time!” I am thrilled that I am not left out in the cold on this.  Pedro seems thrilled at my jubilation.  He asks to see the photo, he agrees, “Yes, this is a great shot isn’t it”.  He flips through the book and comments on a few more photos, and then starts to put it up.  “Wait” he says, and pulls the book straight back out. “Let’s see if he wrote something in it for me.  He is a crazy guy…” and he flips to the front.  “Oh-yes, here it is” and he holds it out for us to see.  Tonya laughs at the inscription.  I have no idea because it is written in Spanish. “It is silly.  He is a funny guy,” Pedro says as he laughs and closes the book.

The photo from Koudelka which was on my fridge and in the book

Pedro shows us the small and cozy bedroom again. “Look, I have this guestroom.  When people come to visit, they can stay here if they like. You guys come stay a bit,” he says.  We laugh.  He replies, “No. Really.  Maybe you are tired of living where you are living.  Come stay here…it is ok.”  I laugh and tell him to watch out.  We just may call his bluff. “Even if it is just for a few days, or a weekend.  You are welcome anytime” Tonya is touched by his generosity and openness.  “Thank you Pedro.  Thanks for everything” she says, and they hug again.

It has gotten later in the day.  It is actually early evening now.  It is time to go.  I ask him if he will work when we leave.  He says yes, he will work until about 10 or so.  We walk out into the street and chat. I look up and point to a set of windows, “Is that yours there?” He looks up “Yes”, and then he points to the main entrance, above the doorway.  There are a few ‘L’ brackets set into the stone. “I put those there” he says with a giggle.  He points to the other windows on the faced, “See how the big stones have just fallen off?  These are big heavy bricks.  I do not want them to hit someone in the head, so I put those brackets on there.  All it takes it a little shake, and then…” he holds his hand to his head as if he were hit. “Yeah, great” I add, “and you live in a very bad zone when an earthquake hits” he stops and makes a startled look, then shakes his head, “No-I know, don’t remind me.  It’s horrible; the whole building may fall down.  The landlord who owns this place is 105.  He doesn’t get out.  Obviously, he doesn’t take care of the place; he doesn’t do anything here anymore.  If you want something done, you have to do it.”

We walk back to Pedro’s place.  We gather our things and then step back outside.  Pedro asks if we took the tram, or bus, and if we need to know how to get back.  I tell him that we drove, and we are fine.  Tonya and Pedro hug again, and exchange some words.  I give him a hearty handshake, and tell him truthfully, that I had a wonderful time. “Thank you so much for a great afternoon.  Thanks for lunch, and your wonderful hospitality.  We truly enjoyed it…” and I shake his hand again.  He smiles his big smile, and shines his big bright eyes.  He holds his hand up and says it is ok.  We exchange goodbyes and make our way back to the car.