Having been born an American, I grew up thinking of city parks as somewhat sinister places. Manhattan and Boston, the two cities I knew well, have beautiful parks but they generally aren’t places where you ignore danger, and that was especially true in the period when I was in those cities.
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Bellas Artes survives not because it is merely old or photogenic, but because it still performs the civic role that architecture of its scale always hopes to achieve. Audiences enter for a symphony or dance program; museum visitors come for murals, architecture, or exhibitions; students and tourists cross paths in the same stair halls and galleries. The building’s mixed life mirrors its mixed design.
Bellas Artes is a white Carrara-and-Mexican-marble palace that rises above Avenida Juárez on the western edge of the historic center, facing the Alameda Central. It is home to many aspects of Mexican art, but especially to Mexican muralism.
I’ve been thinking lately about two seemingly unconnected conversations. The first was with a friend, an immigration lawyer, who said that since Canada passed Law C-3 her business has been overrun with Americans applying for Canadian citizenship (C-3 eliminates the “first-generation limit”). The second conversation was with another friend who is married to a rural-born Quebecer who grew up in a lively farm family.
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Mexico City skyline with Chapultepec Castle, center.
Each time we’ve visited Mexico City we’ve moved between different neighborhoods. This trip we settled down in a decidedly affluent section, called Polanco, which borders on Chapultepec Park. The park is a huge, mostly forested space, which occupies an important position in the city.
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Return to Damascus is my new book of photographs, available for order, that preserves fleeting impressions and the spirit of a place through the lens. Accompanied by brief reflections and memories, the photographs offer a tribute to the place and its people, focusing on enduring character and the subtle interplay of light, architecture, and tradition. Return to Damascus is a quiet celebration of observation and memory, inviting viewers to participate.
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| How Many Roads? is a book of photographs by Jonathan Sa'adah, available for order, offering an unglossy but deeply human view of the period from 1968 to 1975 in richly detailed, observant images that have poignant resonance with the present. Ninety-one sepia photographs reproduced with an introduction by Teju Cole, essays by Beth Adams, Hoyt Alverson, and Steven Tozer, and a preface by the photographer. | |
| If you'd like more information, please have a look at this page. | |
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| To see more work To visit my blog Contact information All material © Jonathan Sa'adah no use without written permission | |
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