Elena Poniatowska: Joy for life

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Let's talk about you, Lucero, about the photographer, and about your work —I ask Lucero González, who laughs at me and flees like a dove, although she smiles with her usual festive enthusiasm. In fact, Lucero González smiles and laughs, and in the blink of an eye, a mischievous look illuminates her round face, like an eternal child open to life. Lucero is greedy, flirtatious, and playful. Seeing her smile means smiling back in a jiffy, because with her, everything is immediate. On Fridays, at Marta Lamas's blissful Friday lunches , where up to 12 or 13 friends gather, Lucero leads the way because she's the one who's attended the longest, and her children are longtime friends of Diego Lamas. At those meals, if Lucero's seat is empty, we invariably ask: What happened to Lucero? “Have you embarked on a new project in Oaxaca, Yucatán, Jalisco, and are you standing in the darkness of some darkroom developing your photos?” A great photographer, Lucero is the author of the best portrait of Cristina Pacheco, the author of Sopita de fideo, and of creators such as Leonora Carrington, Juan Soriano and Carlos Monsiváis. Lucero, a mother of two, has given lectures and lectures on art and especially on creativity and survival, both in public forums and in all the feminist opportunities where she is asked for her opinion based on her acquired experience, both in the small group , with the two Martas, Lamas and Acevedo, and in La Jornada, as well as in Bellas Artes, the National Museum of Anthropology and other venues where Lucero, in addition to exhibiting her work, knows how to speak about what it means to be a woman and a feminist, without ever forgetting the women of the provinces, whom she honors with her work throughout the length and breadth of Mexico.

–I'm a voyeur; I'm curious. Things really catch my attention, and that ability has grown over the years and with the travel I've been able to do. I was born in the nation's capital, and as a newborn, I was taken to Oaxaca, an incredible world, full of color and splendid cultures reflected in festivals, ceremonies, rituals, and customs. There's nothing else in the state that an artist can find and cultivate like Oaxaca, which for me is unique in the world.

“My mother used to take us on Sundays to eat watermelon at Monte Albán and climb the pyramid, which is no longer allowed because when the sun sets, everyone has to leave the archaeological site. For us, the joke was to take a large watermelon and eat it at the foot of the pyramid, spending the afternoon watching the sunset and licking our sticky sugary fingers. My father was an epidemiologist, a master in public health, and led Dr. Luis González Piñón's malaria campaigns. He worked for many years for the Ministry of Health on campaigns that prevented deaths from contagion.

“My father was a great traveler and passionate about the cultures of Oaxaca, which he studied in depth. On Sundays, he would take us to different towns and we would spend time with the families who consulted him. Since he was so well-liked, they would offer him: 'Doctor, come here, we made some tamales for you'; 'Doctor, look, there's a mango harvest and we'll save you some.' I think that made me more committed to the indigenous world and fascinated me with those cultures much more than Greek and Latin, which I studied at the National Autonomous University of Mexico (UNAM). We lived closest to the Valley of Oaxaca with Zapotecs and Mixtecs, but we also went a lot to the Sierra Norte of Oaxaca, and there we interacted a lot with the Mixes and the women of the Isthmus. We met and loved the Ikoot, who were contemptuously called Huaves, which they didn't like. All of that opened my eyes, dazzled me forever, and I wanted to preserve it with my camera, because I very soon became interested in photography.”

–But what did you study?

–First, sociology, which I completed at UNAM. Then I did a master's degree in Latin American studies, which I never finished; finally, I settled on photography, which I made my profession.

"I call myself a photography major because when I was under 40, I decided I needed another language to express myself, so I enrolled at the Active School of Photography in Coyoacán, where Paula, your daughter, was my classmate. When I entered, I felt so good and said, 'Wow, how wonderful!' I began to create passionate photo essays that were published in La Jornada. I was assigned portraits of women and men from the cultural, university, and artistic worlds. I have magnificent photos of Leonora Carrington, Elena Garro, and Margo Glantz, and of choreographers such as Pilar Medina, Liliana Felipe, and Jesusa Rodríguez, as well as Graciela Iturbide, Maya Goded, Marta Lamas, and Sandra Lorenzano, and of men and women of culture; a host of intellectuals and creators. For example, I made a portrait of Pilar Medina, a wonderful choreographer, in the midst of her creation on stage. I knew her work very well, which is why I succeeded. From a very young age, I was passionate about dance and literature, painting, sculpture, music, and the human voice. I have taken beautiful photos of Lila Downs, Ofelia Medina, Angélica Aragón, and so many others. I began to create my own visual essays and have rescued works in Oaxaca, Teotihuacan, and In Yucatán, pre-Hispanic rituals that are still alive, especially from Oaxaca; there I recreated a ball game in which my Quetzalcoatl was Lila Downs, and we also started playing Mixtec ball on the Cerro de las Minas hill in Huajuapan de León. I told Lila, 'Hey, Lila, there are women who make pottery there, and I want to photograph them,' and she put me in touch with that exceptional group. I told the ceramists, 'I'm doing this project because Mixtec ball is only played by men, and I want to do it with women and invite you all to play Mixtec ball.' We asked the master in Huajuapan de León to train us, and, as I told you, as an exceptional thing, we started playing on the Cerro de las Minas hill. Many of the ceramists were migrants from the Mixteca region and were heading to the United States; others were returning from the United States because they had only lasted a season. They brought their earnings and with their money they started the pottery workshop and They abandoned the market jars. They exchanged them for authentic pieces of art that amazed everyone and which I portrayed with admiration and great care.

It was a great way to encourage them. When I work with a group of women, I edit my photos, print them, and it's very encouraging for them and for me to project and then hold an exhibition in Oaxaca and Mexico City. Afterward, I give them their photo; ours is an exchange, because they help me by posing, and I repay their trust with each one's photo.

–Do they know they're going to be seen by people in a gallery?

–I did this first exhibition in the ceramics studio of these wonderful women. It was beautiful because the kindergarten children, elementary school students, high school students, and the Oaxaca authorities came. We put up an awning outside the studio, and when I arrived, they set up tables with pots of mole so we could offer everyone food: beans, rice, delicious tortillas. I've never had a more beautiful party than that one in San Jerónimo, in Huajuapan de León, in my wonderful Oaxaca.

“I was also moved by a Mixtec legend that says if you plant water lilies near a tree, a spring will grow there. So I did a free recreation of that moving ritual. I reached out to the women, because I'm accustomed to always approaching those I'm going to photograph; I grow fond of them, and in Teotitlán del Valle, together we arranged the route to the spring with Doña Gregoria and her daughters. Affection and solidarity, as well as admiration for them, are my guides, and I always walk hand in hand with rural women and children.”

“I have a very dear friend, Josefina Aguilar, who is from the women's cooperative that weaves sarapes. With her, we created another portfolio that I exhibited in Oaxaca City, Mexico City, and many other places in the country. I like to create these narratives together with women from the community and give them the well-deserved recognition of their creativity. I like to portray them with the dignity and love they deserve. I've continued with other projects; so much so that photography is now my profession. I stopped teaching at the university and I want my work, both in sociology and photography, to be part of the feminist struggle. For years, I've been passionate about women's rights because over time I've seen them pushed aside.

“My struggle began when Susan Sontag came to UNAM to give a memorable lecture in the School of Political and Social Sciences. That talk moved and inspired us all to such an extent that Marta Acevedo, very moved, passed around a little notebook, now famous, in which she wrote down our names and interests. That's how we recognized each other and gathered in the so-called small group , in which we promoted actions to defend women's rights.

More than 50 years have passed, and we continue to build a very solid Mexican feminist movement that has provided abundant proof of its effectiveness at crucial moments, such as the issue of abortion.