Measuring Histories

     Out of all of the projects we have created this semester, this one has been my favorite. Having the opportunity to share a part of my culture and history and also better know my friends on a deeper level is definitely one of the things that brings me the greatest joy.

    

    Process: the original idea for this project was to do an elaborate portrait with colors converted from scents of different meals from my culture. Perhaps I will revisit this idea later in my artistic endeavors. The idea that I settled on, however, was this: a recreation of a traditional Panamanian dish that has been passed down for generations by the women in our family prepared in three different ways, representative of the generations and the different circumstances they encountered. Each of the women in my family were pioneers in their own right, creating culture, family, and traditions that via meals that further belonging and the idea of home no matter where they found themselves. 

    I the meal was served on a Mola inspired table cloth as table cloths are very important to my mother and her mother and also for the history and meaning of Molas themselves. Molas can be interpreted as the representation of Panamanian mothers passing down traditions to their daughters. They take time, dedication, and creativity to bring about a work of art that is functional and historical.

    Creating these three dishes turned out to be quite the adventure as ham hocks and pig tails are not part of the average Santa Barbra cuisine. Having never cooked with pig tails much less tried to find them, I acquired a better understanding for the variations in the way that we prepare this dish. Even the ham hock —which  I naively thought would be in nearly any store— proved difficult to locate, which explains the occasional use a bacon in the dish growing up.

I thought I was invested in making this, but part of me thinks that God was even more invested than I was! He miraculously provided for absolutely everything that I needed at every turn; from a gift card literally falling out of the sky allowing me to purchase the ingredients, to borrowing a friend’s car, the random stranger in Sprouts who told me where I might look for pork tails, even the pots and pans and utensils were very God ordained. Once I shared it with my class I think I understand His active involvement more now. There is a beauty, rarely seen on this side of heaven, in sharing differences to not exult those differences in and of themselves but to further community—to bring people closer together, to take one step, no matter how small, to better understand the people around you. Sometimes we try to hard to acknowledge uniqueness that the result is people feeling isolated rather than a part. And sometimes, the voices of everyone in the world clamoring to be recognized means that nobody is truly seen for who they are. In everyone’s projects, we got to participate in other’s joys and losses, strengths and weaknesses, and experience a part of their journey. Something that not many environments adequately seek to engage with.