Friday Meat Delivery

Oct 30, 2009
Salento, Colombia
Elevation 1900m

Salento is too small of a town to have a market of its own. There are a few small shops around town that sells fruits and vegetabels, for eggs and dairy you have to go to different store where you can also buy dry and packaged goods. If you are in need of meat, the butcher shop is where you go. There are about 3 butchers in town. I was told that a meat delivery truck comes by once a week and stocks the shops with fresh meat.

I went to the butcher on thursday and bought some gruond beef for spaghetti and meatballs and noticed that there were very little meat left in case, slim pickings. I walked by the butcher shop the next day, forgetting that it was friday, fresh meat day, and was surpirsed by the sight of a bloody cow head on the floor and all the meat hooks filled with sides of beef. Then it made me wonder, how much meat does a town of 3500 consume in a week? It looks to me that each of the butcher shop gets at least an entire cow per week, is that enough for the residence of Salento? What about the resturants? Do they get a seperate meat delivery or do they source all of their meat from the butchers down the street as well? There are too many things we take for granted.

The Detail of the Thing or also known as The Serial Killer Instinct

Oct 29, 2009,
Salento, Colombia
Elevation 1900m

It is always the little tiny miniscule details that get to me. Irrespective to how many markets I have been to, it is always that moment when I see a detail of a thing and that would be what sticks in my mind and that is what get to me...just a little. Sometimes it is that single drop of blood on the floor, the eyelash that is left on the eyeball, the mole that is on the peeled off face or the tiny whiskers that is on the muzzel. It is never the whole carcass, it is never death in its fullness. It is always these tiny moments.

It reminds me the show "Dexter" or of detective novels where it is always the little things. It is always these moments that the author focuse in on, it is always these little details the character, albeit the Serial Killer or the Detectives obsess over. Is it because it is not death that bothers us but the details that reminds us of the life that once was? Or is it because death is too vast to comprehend so our brain focus in on the miniscule so that we don´t freak out?

"One death is a tragedy, a million is statistics." Is our reaction and focus on the details another reflection of the same sentiment?

Market Day in Silvia

Oct 27, 2009
Silvia, Colombia
Elevation 2647m

Silvia is the center of the Guambiano region. The Guambianos are considered one of the most traditional indigenous group in Colombia and every Tuesday they come into the town of Silvia for market day to trade and socialize. This is the first indigenous markets I have seen and photographed in Colombia. Colombia does not have a high indigenous population but as I travel further south and close to Ecuador, indigenous cultures are starting to appear.

This market day was beautiful. The town square is filled with Guambianos in traditional grabs, the women walk around the town with a spindle in one hand spinning yarn as they mill about. The vendors in the market is a mixture of Guambianos and Colombians. There are Guambianos selling fruits and vegetables but all the butchers at the market appears to be Colombian. I suspect it would be harder for the Guambianos to come into Silvia and sell meat and such as there would be more complicated logistics involved, such as the transporation of the animials and a location for slaugher. Or it could also be possible that Guambianos regularly slaugher animals in their own village so when they come into Silvia, their need for meat is limited.

What stands out from market day here at Silvia are the little details:
- Guambianos couple wearing matching work boots with same color shoe laces.

- A guy walking around the market demonstrating a chain saw, turning on the motor and making the children cry while the crowd gathers and the price of the chain saw is excitedly whispered through the crowd.

- The unique features and faces of the Guambianos.

- How the town square is colored with the blue of the Guambiano garb and they sit about and have visits with each other and the Colombian town folks of Silvia. There is no seperation and distinction.

- How the Guambianos line up outside of post office or other buildings of official nature so that they can take care of whatever modern life logistics that needs to be taken care of. This contrast between the effort to hold on to the tradition but also giving in to the demands of the modern world.

An Honest Killing

Oct 20, 2009
Medellin, Colombia
Elevation 1494m

I photographed Plaza Minorista Jose Maria Villa this morning. It is a large covered market just west of the Center. The most interesting thing about this market is the meat section. There are refrigerated display cases up front with various cuts of meat, just behind the counter there are large sides of carcass dangling from hooks and then behind that is a large walk-in refrigerator, some with windows for you to look into and see the butchering in progress. It is almost the best of both worlds; the honesty of what meat is combined with the technology and modernity of the 21st Century.
Charlie Grosso
www.charliegrosso.com
310-592-0895

Their Eyes are Watching...

Oct 16, 2009
San Gil, Colombia
Elevation 1100m

The market here at San Gil is the first market that I have been to in Colombia that is of interest. The markets in Cartagena were difficult and challenging and not in a good way. It has taken me a while to finally get to another town and start to move through Colombia, but that is another story for another time.

I usually relie a bit on the fact that the vendors would be busy doing their thing while I am at the market. There is a certain annoymous factor involved here that enables me to walk about and shoot as I do. However, this morning at San Gil, all the vendors takes a note of me, wants to say hello, wants to know where I am from, wants to tell me that I am pretty, wants to know what I think of Colombia. I could not walk about unnoticed. As I wonder through, I repeated hear the words, "China," "Californina," shouted through out the market in addition to whatever else is being said in Spanish. I must say that the Colombian´s friendliness is unparalled in any Latin America country that I have traveled through so far. However, this amount of attention is a huge change from the norm and I can´t help but wonder how that will effect the shooting and the images I will be able to get from Colombia.

A home away from home

Oct 7, 2009

Cartagena, Colombia



My wondering of these last 10 months has finally gotten the best of me. I am in Cartagena and I cannot for the life of me convince myself to get out of bed this morning to head out to the market.

No matter how much I try to convince myself that my purpose here is to shoot, hence, I must get up, I do not want to. All I want to is stay in bed and stare at the white ceiling above with the molding and watch the ceiling fan circle around. All I want to do is lay in this little room of mine, where no one knows me, needs nothing from me, expect nothing from me, demands nothing of me. At least just for a little while longer, at least just for a day. A home for me, even if its only at 18000 COP per night, for the moment, this little white room is mine, all mine, a home away from home.



I know myself well enough to know that if I just give in to moments like this the feeling will resolve itself. Once I have had my fill, I will get sick of the stillness, and be ready for another chicken bus, be ready for another adventure.



I did manage to get up and head to the market for a very uninspired morning of shooting. Only to find my way back to my little white room a little while later and lay down to admire the ceiling, the consistency of the fan. It is now nearly 4pm and I have spent most of the day hiding in my room, listening to the world go by outside. I am almost ready to participate again, I am almost ready for you, Cartagena.



Now, only if I could stop sweating...

Charlie Grosso

www.charliegrosso.com

310-592-0895

Chichicastenago Surprise

Sept 9, 2009
Johnson, Vermont

As some of you know, the market at Chichicastenago in Guatemala was slightly underwhelming for me. Yet sometimes the places that you didn't think much of can surprise you with an amazing shot that make the early morning worth while and rewrite your impression of that day, that market, that moment forever. This is part of the magic of photography. This is part of the wonder of film.

One of my favorite thing about shooting film is that you don't get to see it right away. You have wait. By the time you get your proof sheets back, its been days and days and days since you shot that roll, since you been to that place. It is familiar to look at each shot as you remember most of them and also a surprise too cause there are ones that are long forgotten.

I would say that I had the best market experience in Central America at San Juan Chamula. But I am not sure that I have a GREAT shot from that day. Chichicastenago might have been slightly disappointing as far as the market was concerned, but look what I brought home with me, look at this moment that I caught on film.

Chicken with a GIANT Egg

Sept 3, 2009
Johnson, VT

I have been scanning film from this last trip since Monday. I came across this image today, I had forgotten about it. There is a GIANT egg in the cage with the chickens. I wonder which chicken had laid that egg, or has any of them tried to sit on it?

The Name Game

Sept 2, 2009
Johnson, VT

I have completed the first round of edit of on the new images from Latin America and now I am scanning/cataloging them. It is a boring task, a tedious task, but it needs to be done. When the images gets scanned, you have name it as you file it away on your hard drive. Each image are filed under country, month/year and the city the image was shot in. Then each individual image gets roughly named, along with the twin check number and frame number on the roll. So a sample name for an image would be "meat_7991_12."

I don't get very creative with these preliminary names, once the images have made it through another round of edit is when I start to think about what to title each image, but even then, I still struggle. After naming numerous files "meatlady" over the course of the day, of the years, of the life of "Wok the Dog," I am starting to wonder how many files do I have that are called "meatlady" and if you could have too many "meatlady"? When I hit that creative block on what to name each file, I began to think that maybe there might be something to calling your art "Untitled" after all.

What you title your art work tends to be some what important and can be very helpful in the reception and success of your work. For example, do you think Damien Hirst's tiger shark would be as successful if it was not titled "The Physical Impossibility of Death in the Mind of Someone Living" but simply called "Dead Shark" instead?

Logic vs Gut Instinct in hand to hand combat in an all White Room

Aug 31, 209
Johnson, Vermont
Elevation 157m

I am sitting in my all white studio space with a window looking out into the parking lot with a perfect view of the construction workers using the porter potty. I know that photography is on the low end of the totem pole in the art world, but did that need to be made so obvious with a view of the shit house? (I am certain that my studio assignment does not reflect anything other than what is practical and convenient).

I am editing through 63 rolls of film from Mexico and Central America. I shot markets in 13 different cities and 4 countries. I can usually look at the proof sheet and tell you which town that market is as no two markets are a like. I am looking at 3 proof sheets of meat isles and meat stalls and I cannot tell you which country it was in, much less what town. I remember being at that particular market, I remember shooting the images, I remember each of the isles, but I cannot remember anything else. By the process of elimination, logic tells me that this mystery market is not in El Salvador or Nicaragua, but my gut instinct tells me that I shot these images late in the trip which means that it is El Salvador or Nicaragua. OMG! I feel like I am going crazy. My gut is certain, but logic dictates otherwise.

Maybe its not good for me to be in an all white room. Maybe I should staples some pads to the walls....

This is not our chicken!

Aug 12, 2009
Masaya, Nicaragua

I take the first bus out from Lago de Apoyo to the market at Masaya. It is chaos as always. A beautiful chaos today and I am super excited, albeit exhausted.

There are there two live chicken/poultry vendors next to each other. One is separated from the other by a few stools and nothing more. I watch two chickens, tied to each other at the feet, struggle and escape the box that they were in. They attempt to wonder, or at least, one of them tries while the other doesn't understand that its in a 3 legged race. A man from the next "shop" comes over, sees the escaped chickens, picks them up and hands them to his wife, giving her a hard time about not keeping a better eye on the poultry. She has one look and tells him that those are not their chicken and hands them back to her neighbor.
Charlie Grosso
www.charliegrosso.com
310-592-0895

Chichicastenago and Unexpected Moments

July 23, 2009
Chichicastenago, Guatemala
Elevation 2233m

Chichi is supposed to be one of the biggest markets here in Guatemala. What I have learned from my years of market hunting is that the biggest may not always be the best, sometime the random no name markets in no name towns are better (at least for me) than the ones that drawls the biggest crowds. Some friends of mine loves market day at Chichi, while others are less than impressed. No matter, I am gonna check it out anyways.

The market is mostly craft. I must say that I am not impressed. Its alright, at least I tried.

I end up in the main church here in Chichi. There is still another couple of hours before my bus heads back to Antigua, I am literally seeking sanctuary from the vendors and the sun.

There are these low wooden risers all through the center isle, covered in flower pedals and candles. I watch this old man kneel by one and repeat his prayers over and over and over as he light one candle after another and sticks them on to the wood flats. There are women chanting, there are other prayers being prayed, it all intermingles and it echoes through the church. Yet this old man's raspy whispered prayer some how rises above them all, in the midst of it, I close my eyes and send up a prayer of my own.

I watch him some more and take a photo on the sly (photos are not allowed in the church, lucky for you I don't do too well w rules). He brings out a small bottle of alcohol and pours some on wooden riser, around the candles and flowers. He is finally done, but he is having trouble getting up. Bad knees and stiff joints, I could almost hear them crack. I wanted to go over there and help him but I didn't want to offend or let on that I have been observing.

Something about these last few minutes of watching is old man pray really touched me. This is what I will take away with me from this market day...

She Tried to Throw a Broom at Me

July 19, 2009
San Cristobal De Las Casas, Mexico
Elevation 2349m



San Juan Chamula, a village that is outside of San Cristobal. Its market day. It's 6:30 am, I make myself leave my warm bed, grab my cameras and thank god there is coffee at this hour, I get on a collectivo and head out.

The market is the size of the town square. I am the only foreigner here. You can buy everything here. Pots and pans, live poultry, shoes, clothing, yarn, some sort of animal pelt, bread, produce, shoe polish, flowers, just about everything. This market has no structure or logic in the way that its laid out. I think the vendors just arrive, they find an empty spot and they lay their goods down. As the day wears on, it gets harder and hard to walk through the market. I am constantly walking in between stalls or forced to jump over a pile of chiles so that I don´t get run over by the carts, people and poultry. There are children every where; some are crying, some are breast feeding. There are dogs roaming looking for a scrap off the butcher´s table. I saw this one boy trying to shove a giant piece of salted dry fish into his backpack...it made me laugh so hard as the fish is clearly bigger than his bag.

The shooting today is a little easier than it was yesterday. The people are still resistent but there is so much going on here that they pay less attention to me. Although this one woman did try to throw a broom at me. She won´t even let me take a picture of her chickens. Oh well....

I smile at everyone I see, I greet them good day. The men return my smile and are a little easier with me being there, the children seem to respond to my hellos as well. Howeve, the women just look at me and well....they just look at me. I guess my charm only goes so far here in Mexico.

This town, San Cristobal, Chiapas, it reminds me so much of Tibet, I don´t know why. The market is make shift at best; tables, tarps, ropes and nothing more. All of this choas and beauty will be gone by mid-day. The morning is wearing on and I have done 4-5 laps around, in and out, the tourist are starting to arrive, its time to wrap it up. Just as I am about to finish the last few frames on this last roll of film, I see a pile of red delicious apples imported from good o´US of A. Red Delicious apples sitting pretty amongst fruits and veggies that are just in from the hill side. I guess you can´t stop progress/invasion.

I stop at one of the many ¨stalls,¨ grab a seat in the tiny chair and have a hot horcheta and a tamale for breakfast. The warm horcheta makes me think of porridage and it reminds me of home. I guess when you grow up with nothing, your taste for peasant food (as my mother likes to call them) never really goes away.

Out of Focus Frames

July 18, 2009
San Crisotbal De Las Casas, Mexico
Elevation 2349m

The market today was incredible, bright and lively. I think my favorit thing might be how the women tie the chickens by their feet and wear them around their wrists like they are some sort of bracelets as they stand there selling them. I had a little trouble shooting at the market today. I have encountered resistence before to being photographed, but today it seemed harder. For the most part, if they really don´t want their picture taken, I respect that and I walk away. I have read and heard a bit about how the indigenous tribes here in Chiapas do not like their photos taken so I purposely left the Hasselblad and only went out with the Xpan. I thought maybe a smaller camera would let me fly under the radar a bit more (Yes, me, unnoticed as the only Asian in town.) It was difficult today. I would try to pull focus at something that was close to them but not them and then pan back to them and see if I can pull the shot off, this usually works decently in the pass, but not so much today. I ended up shooting a lot of the same frame hoping that maybe there would be one that would work. I have a feeling that I am going to end up with a lot of out of focused frames here.

Tomorrow I will head out to a near by town where market day is supposed to draw a great crowd from all the villages. I imagine it would be even harder then. But I have to at least try.

For Love, For Faith, For Pure Pleasure?

July 18, 2009
San Cristobal De Las Casas, Mexico
Elevation 2349m

When I think of fresh cut flowers I think of hot houses, first world nations, and florists. I was astounded to find so much flowers for sale at the market today. I wondered do they just grow wild? It can´t be grown in a hot house like it is in the US? Then I wonder who buys them and what do they buy the flowers for? For their wifes and their love? For their god and their faith? Or do the good people of Chiapas just buy them because they are pretty and who wouldn¨t want fresh flowers in their homes?

Mystery Spice

July 10, 2009
Ocotlan, Mexico
Elevation 1500m

I went out to a town called Ocotlan, 45 min by bus (no chicken bus yet, severely disappointed) since it is their big market day. The market was vibrant and amazing. There are these two girls selling some sort of spices and they came up and tried to talk to me. At first I thought they wanted their photo taken, but they one of them got shy and changed their mind. We tried to talk some more and then they decided that I could take a photo if I bought some of what they were selling. Mind you I have no idea what it is that they are selling. I asked her what its for (once again, poor poor spanish skills on my part), the girl took some and put it in her mouth. Ok, so its edible. She offered me some, I had a taste, can't say that I could tell you what it is or what it tasted like either. But for 5 pesos, I will buy a small bag of this mystery spice to help the girl out and took a picture in exchange. I hope I don't dream of purple elephants.

As you wish

July 4, 2009

Mexico City, Mexico

Elevation 2240 Meters



Market day. One in particular has all manners of animals for sale. Chickens and various varieties of poultry, baby chicks, pigeons, goats, turkey, rabbits, puppies, kittens, turtle, iguanas, finches and other birds, mice, rats, guinea pigs. Lots and lots of animals all alive and in cages.



Now I am getting confused. Are these animals for sale or for eating? The chicken, poultry and goats seems like they would be for food but the puppies and kittens doesn't seem to be quiet for the Mexican palate. So, I call my friend Rebecca and ask her if she could ask the shop keepers what is the purpose of these animals, food or pets. I hand the phone over to a man who was just trying to sell me a chicken moments before and patiently wait for the answer.



Apparently, the man had told Rebecca, the animals are for whatever you want, dinner or pets. What is most important is that they are fresh.

Charlie Grosso

www.charliegrosso.com

310-592-0895