lilly azul daisy

My Reflections of Cuba, Mis Reflexiones de Cuba

2011-09-25T06:37:00.000-07:00

Exhibit background:

Reflections of Cuba, Reflexiones de Cuba series reflects Leslie’s significant first impressions of Cuba. Cuba is not only a site for scholarly exploration for Leslie, but is also a part of her heritage, informing who she is, by way of her Cuban mother. Leslie had the opportunity to meet her maternal family for the first time through a trip to Cuba in June, 2011. Reflections of Cuba, reflexiones de Cuba is born from her strong conviction that through history, lived experience, the honoring of her roots and cultures; she is who she is today. Reflections in this series explore her curiosity of self-discovery, and identity as a Latina, academic and artist.

•“…I sit here in the sunroom with the window open – the breeze- the sounds- so peaceful.”

»Excerpt from my journal from La Habana…..June, 2011

I went to Cuba in June of this past summer. It is a place I have wanted to go as far back as I can remember-yet part of me was apprehensive about going. I have had so many different reasons for loving Cuba and so many for hating her too. This has always been accompanied by a strong sense of curiosity, nostalgia, imprints throughout my life of my mother’s life and memories, and a reality of my roots and my family that I wasn’t sure I could handle. The unknown can be inviting but also frightening.

I feel that by no means have I come to a place of understanding Cuba, the culture and all of its implications, however I feel that I am slowly chipping away at a part of my life that has always existed and is coming into focus, into visibility in its own time and space. It is growing from an authentic place that is composed of various facets through my evolving identities as woman, wife, mother, daughter, friend, student and artist. These doors and openings are pockets and gateways to realities and possibilities I yet have to dream of but the anticipation of these things is my inspiration and passion driving me forward. From these places is where this series comes from, a place of trying to understand through different lens; the tourist, the academic, the artist, the outsider

Curious Contradictions: negotiating Encounters with Cuba

2011-09-24T08:47:00.000-07:00

Curious Contradictions: Negotiating Encounters with Cuba

Oct 17th 6pm foster Auditorium at Penn State Univ

In June 2011 six students traveled with Dr. Alyssa Garcia to Havana, Cuba on a 2 week embedded program as part of the Wome Studies course
'Race & Gender in the Americas: Latin American &Caribbean Cultures.'
Come hear these students present on their group BLOG and reflect on this experience.

Leslie C. Sotomayor My Reflections of Cuba, Mis Reflexiones de Cuba

2011-09-24T08:39:00.000-07:00

http://www.psu.edu/dept/laus/2011/09/leslie-c-sotomayor-my-reflections-of-cuba-mis-reflexiones-de-cuba.htm

Exhibit at the Paul-Robeson Cultural Center from September 21, 2011

summer photos by CAZ.....

2011-07-31T11:30:00.000-07:00

feminist art collection at psu!

2011-07-29T07:32:00.000-07:00

"Penn State receives Judy Chicago feminist art education collections"

getting back into it......

2011-07-26T08:02:00.000-07:00

I am back...back from Cuba.
It is for some reason hard for me to maintain this blog. I will aim at working more into it.
Check out the link to the Travel Journal 2011 of Cuba. It will eventually contain the information and experience of all 6 of us that went on the trip, but so far, I have been the only contributor. Everyone else is busy with summer!--As for my current happenings, I am working on an art series of my Cuban experience. I have many thoughts and feelings about all of this, and I will share more in the near future.

Waiting A poem by Faith Wilding

2011-05-26T08:31:00.000-07:00

Waiting
A poem by Faith Wilding

Waiting . . .
waiting . . .
waiting . . .
Waiting for someone to come in
Waiting for someone to hold me
Waiting for someone to feed me
Waiting for someone to change my diaper
Waiting . . .
Waiting to scrawl, to walk, waiting to talk
Waiting to be cuddled
Waiting for someone to take me outside
Waiting for someone to play with me
Waiting for someone to take me outside
Waiting for someone to read to me, dress me, tie my shoes
Waiting for Mommy to brush my hair
Waiting for her to curl my hair
Waiting to wear my frilly dress
Waiting to be a pretty girl
Waiting to grow up
Waiting . . .
Waiting for my breasts to develop
Waiting to wear a bra
Waiting to menstruate
Waiting to read forbidden books
Waiting to stop being clumsy
Waiting to have a good figure
Waiting for my first date
Waiting to have a boyfriend
Waiting to go to a party, to be asked to dance, to dance close
Waiting to be beautiful
Waiting for the secret
Waiting for life to begin
Waiting…
Waiting to be somebody
Waiting to wear makeup
Waiting for my pimples to go away
Waiting to wear lipstick, to wear high heels and stockings
Waiting to get dressed up, to shave my legs
Waiting to be pretty
Waiting . . .
Waiting for him to notice me, to call me
Waiting for him to ask me out
Waiting for him to pay attention to me
Waiting for him to fall in love with me
Waiting for him to kiss me, touch me, touch my breasts
Waiting for him to pass my house
Waiting for him to tell me I’m beautiful
Waiting for him to ask me to go steady
Waiting to neck, to make out, waiting to go all the way
Waiting to smoke, to drink, to stay out late
Waiting to be a woman
Waiting . . .
Waiting for my great love
Waiting for the perfect man
Waiting for Mr. Right
Waiting . . .
Waiting to get married
Waiting for my wedding day
Waiting for my wedding night
Waiting for sex
Waiting for him to make the first move
Waiting for him to excite me
Waiting for him to give me pleasure
Waiting for him to give me an orgasm Waiting . . .
Waiting for him to come home, to fill my time…
Waiting . . .
Waiting for my baby to come
Waiting for my belly to swell
Waiting for my breasts to fill with milk
Waiting to feel my baby move
Waiting for my legs to stop swelling
Waiting for the first contractions
Waiting for the contractions to end
Waiting for the head to emerge
Waiting for the first scream, the afterbirth
Waiting to hold my baby
Waiting for my baby to suck my milk
Waiting for my baby to stop crying
Waiting for my baby to sleep through the night
Waiting for my breasts to dry up
Waiting to get my figure back, for the stretch marks to go away
Waiting for some time to myself
Waiting to be beautiful again
Waiting for my child to go to school
Waiting for life to begin again
Waiting . . .
Waiting for my children to come home from school
Waiting for them to grow up, to leave home
Waiting to be myself
Waiting for excitement
Waiting for him to tell me something interesting, to ask me how I feel…
Waiting for him to stop being crabby, reach for my hand, kiss me good morning
Waiting for fulfillment
Waiting for the children to marry
Waiting for something to happen Waiting . . .
Waiting to lose weight
Waiting for the first gray hair
Waiting for menopause
Waiting to grow wise
Waiting . . .
Waiting for my body to break down, to get ugly
Waiting for my flesh to sag
Waiting for my breasts to shrivel up
Waiting for a visit from my children, for letters
Waiting for my friends to die
Waiting for my husband to die
Waiting . . .
Waiting to get sick
Waiting for things to get better
Waiting for winter to end
Waiting for the mirror to tell me that I’m old
Waiting for a good bowel movement
Waiting for the pain to go away
Waiting for the struggle to end
Waiting for release
Waiting for morning
Waiting for the end of the day
Waiting for sleep
Waiting…

a year later.....

2011-05-26T08:18:00.000-07:00

a year later and it is may and rainy ( warm!) but I am in a very different place in my life.....I marvel at how life changes, twists and curves and transformations occur. On the verge of taking a trip to Cuba which from a very young age has been a dream of mine, is consuming my thoughts lately. The packing, the research, the reading endless books and talking, talking and more talking about all the details and questions is obsolutely thrilling and terrifying all at the same time!

My life has always been mixed with many different little aspects of Puerto Rican, Cuban and American culture, and I see this as a beautiful mosaic that I am very grateful for. This experience of actually going to Cuba is not only fantastic in so many ways that you can continue to read on the official Cuba blog that my classmates and I have prepared, but it is also a stretch as a mother. I will miss my kids and the limited communication from Cuba to the U.S. is huge.....my heart will stretch a bit more.

oil paintings 2011

2011-02-14T15:35:00.000-08:00

I have started the semester with an oil painting class among others. I have never worked with oils, but am enjoying the process....it has taken me a bit to loosen up and be free, which can take me time depending on the environment I am in. I'm getting there....

India Ink

2011-01-06T10:17:00.000-08:00

Just discovered this brand and colors of fantastic inks! Playing around and doodling, having fun and zoning out......

poetry

2011-01-05T14:27:00.000-08:00

I enjoy poetry, to me it is like an abstract reflection of the soul, emotions and pulse underlying my everyday life. It is an outlet of rawness, an artform of vulnerability to one's self and others.
One of my favorite poets/writers; Maya Angelou and one of my all time favorites below:

PHENOMENAL WOMAN

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size
But when I start to tell them,
They think I'm telling lies.
I say,
It's in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.
I say,
It's the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can't touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them
They say they still can't see.
I say,
It's the arch of my back,
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my breasts,
The grace of my style.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Now you understand
Just why my head's not bowed.
I don't shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It's in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,
the palm of my hand,
The need of my care.
'Cause I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

drawings....

2011-01-03T17:57:00.001-08:00

still life
drapery study
creation myth: rebirth, life cycle.

paintings and stained glass

2011-01-03T16:59:00.000-08:00

stained glass piece
seasons of my life
rebirth

sculpture pieces

2011-01-03T15:50:00.000-08:00

untitled
wood sculpture. Useless Tools?
foam, wood putty, plaster and acrylic mushroom I made for my Brian.
canvas floor cloth day with my friend! So much fun, it is in our sunroom.
over the summer my friend and I wanted to make paper mache masks of our faces then I painted and embellished and adhered it to a canvas frame.
our front porch/stoop, my daughter and I designed and painted.
vagina dentata.

More Artwork from 2010.

Transcending Silence ejournal

2011-01-03T15:44:00.000-08:00

Transcending Silence ejournal

the New Year

2011-01-03T15:20:00.000-08:00

In an effort to contribute and develop this blog, I am going to track back through 2010. Just to show where I have been at briefly and where I continue on going. My consistency with most things is lacking, I go through phases and inspirational whims most times. But here is to another year of inspiration, motivation and fantastic surprises! Cheers!
this one above is entitled; Herstory the coming from and out of women's struggles and oppression through centuries, into movements of freedom and liberation.

cold rainy day

2010-05-11T13:25:00.000-07:00

It is one of those days, when it is cold, dark and rainy. I love these days. It gives me permission to be cocoon like. It lets me feel blue, go into my Eeyore tone ( as my friends tell me) and indulge in all habits of cozy. I am not bright, I just want to be comforted. Loneliness can set in, and I welcome it. I feel grateful for everything around me; the birds I hear, the kids playing, the quilt on the couch keeping me warm, the kettle bubbling on the stove. I get that warm fuzzy feeling in the middle of my stomach and I wonder, if all of the world is in a little greenhouse with me. The splotches of color outside my cloud-room look like a canvas full of impressionistic portraits. The patter of my kids feet walking around the house create a beautiful song to my ears, as my mind unwinds and melts into the grey rainy skies above me.