Joaquina discovered how much she enjoys painting while she was working as our housekeeper. Breezes often slammed our house doors shut, so she searched the town riverbed for large, smooth rocks, embellished them with designs, and used them as doorstops.
Next she tried painting on table runners. When I returned from a summer in the U.S., the dining room table, the buffet and the entry hall table were adorned with runners. Though I liked the geometric, Aztec-looking designs she had painted on the runners, I didn’t want to cover up the handsome grain of the wood. Joaquina agreed with my suggestion that she salvage the designs and rework the fabric into pillow covers, which she whipped up on my sewing machine. That was a remarkable feat in itself, since she uses only her right hand. Her left hand is permanently contracted into a fist because of nerve damage many years ago.
After these utilitarian projects she began painting with oils on canvas. She told me about the first time she went to Puerto Vallarta to buy paints, brushes and canvas: “I didn’t know what to ask for, and I was afraid the clerks in the store would make fun of me, so I told them I was buying art supplies for a friend. I asked them to make a list of what my friend would need. Later I went back with the list and bought those things for myself.”
“I don’t know what inspired me to want to paint,” she writes in the bio she uses for art shows. “For many years I dreamed about painting, but I didn’t dare do it because of my ancestors’ taboos. My great grandmother believed being photographed or painted could steal a person’s soul. I didn’t think that was true, but it made me fearful.”
Joaquina has not had much formal education, and certainly no art education. “I was in school until I was 16,” she tells me, “but it was a one-room schoolhouse with four grades and I kept repeating grades. After I became deaf -- I was nine at the time, and I hit my head when I dove into a creek -- I couldn’t learn along with the other kids.”
She still works in oils, and she’s also doing acrylics and watercolors. Her subjects are varied: ceramic jugs, animals and flowers are among her favorites. “And I like instructive themes that carry a message,” she says. “I call one of my best paintings ‘Advice.’ It’s of a father walking with his arm around his son’s shoulders, and he’s leaning over to talk with the boy.” She has a strong opinion about the sculptures on the malecón in Puerto Vallarta: “Don’t like them,” she says. “Too surreal.”
Joaquina has two jobs: She’s postmaster for San Pancho, and she sells fruit from a bicycle-mounted stand. She doesn’t have a lot of time to paint, but she loves doing it, and she’s no longer timid about her work. For the last several years she has displayed paintings at San Pancho’s annual Christmas art exhibit, and she’s made some sales. Last Christmas a painting she titled “Face of Death with Flowers and Birds” was snapped up right away. “I could have sold that one six times,” she says. “Next year I’ll be ready.”
Next she tried painting on table runners. When I returned from a summer in the U.S., the dining room table, the buffet and the entry hall table were adorned with runners. Though I liked the geometric, Aztec-looking designs she had painted on the runners, I didn’t want to cover up the handsome grain of the wood. Joaquina agreed with my suggestion that she salvage the designs and rework the fabric into pillow covers, which she whipped up on my sewing machine. That was a remarkable feat in itself, since she uses only her right hand. Her left hand is permanently contracted into a fist because of nerve damage many years ago.
After these utilitarian projects she began painting with oils on canvas. She told me about the first time she went to Puerto Vallarta to buy paints, brushes and canvas: “I didn’t know what to ask for, and I was afraid the clerks in the store would make fun of me, so I told them I was buying art supplies for a friend. I asked them to make a list of what my friend would need. Later I went back with the list and bought those things for myself.”
“I don’t know what inspired me to want to paint,” she writes in the bio she uses for art shows. “For many years I dreamed about painting, but I didn’t dare do it because of my ancestors’ taboos. My great grandmother believed being photographed or painted could steal a person’s soul. I didn’t think that was true, but it made me fearful.”
Joaquina has not had much formal education, and certainly no art education. “I was in school until I was 16,” she tells me, “but it was a one-room schoolhouse with four grades and I kept repeating grades. After I became deaf -- I was nine at the time, and I hit my head when I dove into a creek -- I couldn’t learn along with the other kids.”
She still works in oils, and she’s also doing acrylics and watercolors. Her subjects are varied: ceramic jugs, animals and flowers are among her favorites. “And I like instructive themes that carry a message,” she says. “I call one of my best paintings ‘Advice.’ It’s of a father walking with his arm around his son’s shoulders, and he’s leaning over to talk with the boy.” She has a strong opinion about the sculptures on the malecón in Puerto Vallarta: “Don’t like them,” she says. “Too surreal.”
Joaquina has two jobs: She’s postmaster for San Pancho, and she sells fruit from a bicycle-mounted stand. She doesn’t have a lot of time to paint, but she loves doing it, and she’s no longer timid about her work. For the last several years she has displayed paintings at San Pancho’s annual Christmas art exhibit, and she’s made some sales. Last Christmas a painting she titled “Face of Death with Flowers and Birds” was snapped up right away. “I could have sold that one six times,” she says. “Next year I’ll be ready.”
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