 The image is a peek at the flower I painted in memory of Banaz Mahmod, a 20-year-old Iraqi Kurdish woman, who lived in South London, England prior to her murder. She was a victim of an honor killing that her father and uncle planned and her three cousins carried out. These perpetrators were later convicted of her murder and in prison. This piece titled She Was Banaz, will be part of a large installation that will “memorialize women around the world who have been violated, disappeared, or murdered”. Dolores Mercado, Assistant Curator, organized the installation, which will be part of the National Museum of Mexican Art's exhibit titled Día de Muertos, Living Presence; it is the museum's 37th annual Day of the Dead exhibition .
The opening will be Friday, September 22nd from 6:00pm–8:00pm. It's a very popular exhibit and as always, a wonderful cultural experience. There will be traditional ofrendas as well as a variety of visual art pertaining to Day of the Dead. Día de Muertos, Living Presence September 22-December 10, 2023. National Museum of Mexican Art 1852 W 19th Street Chicago, IL 60608
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The National Museum of Mexican Art is pleased to announce the opening of its 37th annual Day of the Dead exhibition on Friday, September 22nd in the Main Gallery. Entitled Día de Muertos, Living Presence, this year’s exhibition remembers the thousands of people who died in the February 2023 earthquakes in Turkey and Syria. The exhibition will also memorialize women around the world who have been violated, disappeared, or murdered, with a large installation by eighteen local artists. With flowers, food, and drinks, we await the return home of loved ones who no longer walk this Earth. Join us for the opening reception on Friday, September 22nd to experience this age-old tradition of honoring the lives of lost loved ones through captivating altars, beautiful folk art, and evocative fine art. I am grateful and honored to be one of the eighteen artists whose work will be included in the large installation mentioned above.
 Wonderful news! The book that features my work and that of 10 other Latin American female writers and artists has finally published. I am grateful to Jane Lavery and Sarah Bowskill for persevering in its publication and thanks to the National Museum of Mexican Art and Dolores Mercado, Associate Curator for giving me the opportunity for a solo exhibit in 2015. It was the work in that exhibit that lead to Dr. Sarah Bowskill writing an academic article titled Bearing Witness to Child Abuse and Trauma in Pilar Acevedo's Multimedia Fragmentos Exhibition and eventually, The Multimedia Works of Contemporary Latin American Women Writers and Artists. The book is available on Amazon. THE FOLLOWING IS A LIST OF CONTRIBUTORS:
Pilar Acevedo (Mexican-American): visual/installation artist and poet Ana Clavel (Mexico): novelist, essayist, digital/visual/installation artist and blogger Carla Faesler (Mexico): digital artist and poet Regina José Galindo (Guatemala): performance artist, blogger, poet and writer Gabriela Golder (Argentina): installation artist, video-art, curator Lucia Grossberger Morales (Bolivia): interactive digital artist and poet Jacalyn Lopez Garcia (Mexican-American): interactive digital artist and poet Eli Neira (Chile): performance artist, poet, blogger and digital artist Mónica Nepote (Mexico): poet, essayist, editor Eugenia Prado Bassi (Chile): multimedia writer Mariela Yeregui (Argentina): visual artist, educator, net.artist Sarah E.L. Bowskill, Senior Lecturer in Latin American Studies, Queen’s University Belfast Debra Ann Castillo, Stephen H. Weiss Presidential Fellow, Emerson Hinchcliff Professor of Hispanic Studies and Professor of Comparative Literature at Cornell University. Nuala Finnegan, Professor of Spanish and Director of the Centre for Mexican Studies, University College Cork. Carolina Gainza, Universidad Diego Portales Emily Hind, Professor of Spanish, University of Florida. Claudia Kozak, Professor, Department of Literature and Communication Studies, University of Buenos Aires. Jane E. Lavery, Lecturer in Hispanic Studies, University of Southampton. Thea Pitman, Professor of Latin American Studies, University of Leeds. Claire Taylor, Gilmour Chair of Spanish and Professor in Hispanic Studies, University of Liverpool. I am pleased to have been invited to participate in this year's Day of the Dead exhibit at the National Museum of Mexican Art in Chicago. The exhibit, Dia de Muertos: Living Presence, is scheduled to open Friday, September 22, 2023. In addition to the ofrendas, paintings, sculptures, and installations that are traditionally displayed in the Day of the Dead exhibits at the NMMA, 18 women were invited to participate in the creation of a wall of flowers, the brain child of Dolores Mercado, Assistant Curator of the National Museum of Mexican Art. This larger work will honor victims of gender-based violence. Each artist will choose whom to honor—an individual or a group. We were given a large scale wood composite flower influenced by a Pre-Hispanic design and we will use it to create our own piece addressing the theme as we see fit. I have chosen to honor Banaz Mahmod, a victim of an honor killing. For those of you who are not familiar with her story, I encourage you to watch a 2013 Emmy and Peabody Award winning film titled Banaz: A Love Story. I watched the film in 2021 and it compelled me to post, "It was like I was his shoe..." on this blog on July 21, 2021. As I began painting the flower in Banaz's honor, I wrote a poem and it will be included in the piece. It was inspired by Banaz’s story from articles I read and the interviews from Banaz: A Love Story. The poem retells her story, but from my perspective. The words used to describe her husband, father, uncle and cousins are not Banaz’s because she was a gentle spirit who, in the film, did not use harsh words to describe them. I did, however, use something in part from the film that Banaz said. Referring to her husband, she stated, “It was like I was his shoe and he would wear it just whenever he felt like it”. I also used the words, "discharged my soul" because in a recorded telephone call, as one of her killers boasted about killing Banaz, he used the phrase, "the bitch's soul was not getting discharged"..." Finally, exercising “artistic license”, I opted to write the poem as if Banaz were speaking to her older sister, Bekahl who was instrumental in obtaining justice for Banaz by testifying against their family in court. Orange and Yellow
Pilar Acevedo Written 07/13/2023 If only I could have colored your life orange and yellow, sweet sister. But some disregarded my desperate pleas; others fueled their fierce ire and compelled our cousins to “discharge my soul”-- the price I paid for parting ways from a contemptuous cretin who controlled me with a fist and phallus. To him, I was not a winsome wife, but a shoe to wear when he wanted. And so, I ran for refuge-- to the two who divined me, yet wanted me dead. Their honor, more valuable than valor and I. Thus, the unimaginable unfolded. Our father and uncle demanded my demise. Our cowardly cousins complied, but with an added touch of torture-- they raped and garroted me. When they finished their demonic deed, they dumped my vacant vessel in a suitcase, and buried it in our backyard. Now, I sleep as soundly as a floating fetus in a warm womb of orange and yellow and dream of you, dear sister. I dream of what could have been and of a love that should have been. And if I could borrow the wind to whisper in your ear, I would softly say, thank you, sweet sister, for seeking justice for me. But now, it is time to release the rage and rancor and make your life orange and yellow. I have been meaning to post this happy news about the book below. It features my work along with that of other Latin American women artists and writers and will be published by Boydell & Brewer in August of 2023. Thanks to Jane Lavery and Sarah Bowskill for persevering in its publication and thanks to the National Museum of Mexican Art and Dolores Mercado, Associate Curator for giving me the opportunity for a solo exhibit in 2015. It was the work in this exhibit that lead to Dr. Sarah Bowskill writing an academic article titled Bearing Witness to Child Abuse and Trauma in Pilar Acevedo's Multimedia Fragmentos Exhibition and eventually, The Multimedia Works of Contemporary Latin American Women Writers and Artists. The book can be pre-ordered for a price guarantee through Amazon. For more information, click on "Amazon" for the link.  THE FOLLOWING IS A LIST OF CONTRIBUTORS:
Pilar Acevedo (Mexican-American): visual/installation artist and poet Ana Clavel (Mexico): novelist, essayist, digital/visual/installation artist and blogger Carla Faesler (Mexico): digital artist and poet Regina José Galindo (Guatemala): performance artist, blogger, poet and writer Gabriela Golder (Argentina): installation artist, video-art, curator Lucia Grossberger Morales (Bolivia): interactive digital artist and poet Jacalyn Lopez Garcia (Mexican-American): interactive digital artist and poet Eli Neira (Chile): performance artist, poet, blogger and digital artist Mónica Nepote (Mexico): poet, essayist, editor Eugenia Prado Bassi (Chile): multimedia writer Mariela Yeregui (Argentina): visual artist, educator, net.artist Sarah E.L. Bowskill, Senior Lecturer in Latin American Studies, Queen’s University Belfast Debra Ann Castillo, Stephen H. Weiss Presidential Fellow, Emerson Hinchcliff Professor of Hispanic Studies and Professor of Comparative Literature at Cornell University. Nuala Finnegan, Professor of Spanish and Director of the Centre for Mexican Studies, University College Cork. Carolina Gainza, Universidad Diego Portales Emily Hind, Professor of Spanish, University of Florida. Claudia Kozak, Professor, Department of Literature and Communication Studies, University of Buenos Aires. Jane E. Lavery, Lecturer in Hispanic Studies, University of Southampton. Thea Pitman, Professor of Latin American Studies, University of Leeds. Claire Taylor, Gilmour Chair of Spanish and Professor in Hispanic Studies, University of Liverpool. Threes
A poem I wrote on 1/25/2020 Prone to elaborate rituals– a perfectly fastidious disease, she clasps her hands tightly, then whispers, "one, two, three". Bowing her head in deliberate silence; and crossing her mouth three times, she releases her petition upward with frankincense, pleas, and please please please.  Fragrant Smoke A year ago last autumn, on a day much like today I released him and into the ether, he went... his portrait—the one most like him, the one with the old tan hat. Among the golden fall leaves and flowers interwoven with bright scarlet raffia, his arms and his torso, I reverently wrapped. I nestled his image, within a red paper boat. Then setting the leaves and sandalwood afire, his vessel, I set afloat onto the glistening river of this small town he always called “home”. Away into the current he traveled-- under the warmth of the fall summer sun. And as I watched in the distance, a patch of red, I could see I imagined, his spirit uplifted in spirals of fragrant smoke. Alas, after 40 years plus 7, I truly released him--but only, to the God he always knew. A poem I wrote today, 11/6/2021, a year and a day after my personal farewell. Thank you, Dr. S for accompanying the day II said good-bye and thank you for this picture of me standing on the rocks watching his boat float away--you are such a dear friend.
What Moon?
Four seasons past, we gazed at the same moon, the one that shines over the prairie and through my window here, tonight. Wish you could see it there, in the desert sky and know, as you did then, that distance matters not-- but no... So, I am left to wonder, what moon you smile upon this summer night. I watched Banaz A Love Story, and did so in horror, confusion, and sadness. I wondered to myself, "Where is the honor, in 'Honor Killing'?" If this isn’t a contradiction in terms, I don’t know what is! To say that I felt dis-ease is an understatement. While I understand that culture shapes our sense of self, religion, beliefs, etc., I cannot tolerate murdering someone because it is culturally acceptable for a family’s honor to take precedence over a life. Yet, I wonder how it is possible for "humans" who possess the capacity to love, get to the point where we see another human as a commodity—something of less or no value at all? How do we get there? What is it at our very core that grants us permission to proceed with such hate? At the age of 17, Banaz Mahmod was in an arranged marriage to a man she did not know previously and who was 10 years older than she was. He abused her in every way possible. Although she had left him on numerous occasions, her family sent her back each time because it was neccesary for their honor—it was preferable that she endure the abuse rather than they endure the shame. After 2 years of leaving her abuser and being sent back to him by her family, she left for the last time and returned to her family home. 7 months later, her father arranged for everyone in the family, with the exception of Banaz, to leave their home so that her cousins could enter specifically to kill her. But killing Banaz wasn't enough; in fact, for over 2 hours they raped and tortured her. They eventually strangled her to death, stuffed her body in a suitcase and buried her 6 feet underground. Her father, her uncle, and 3 cousins were later convicted of her murder—this was as much “justice” Banaz could get within a legal system after her death. Tragically, she had reached out to the police, but was unable to get the protection that she needed before her death. The quote below is from the film. It was something Banaz said as she spoke about the man she was forced to marry. "It was like I was his shoe and he would wear it." "Her "self"
Her “self”, at its nucleus is calm and courageous-- as it was at birth, but life insisted on darkness; extinguished its brilliance to smoke, and shattered her “self” at its core. Each of the fragments needful, but in a space in time that no longer was, or is. Their voices, she silenced in ignorance, conflicted by their tantrums and pleas. 'Til one day the atomic rage ignited and all the chatter spewed forth. Squeezing her heart and lungs fiercely, her parts demanded to be heard. She relented and listened summer through summer to their stories of anger and fear. And so it was in her own compassion, that she led her back to the "self" of her birth. |
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