Honoring my creative lineage: Papa Valera.
This month, I will write a series of vignettes honoring my creative lineage, which includes the people and forces that have shaped me, prayed for me and dreamed me into being, so that I may walk my own empowered path guided by them and the gifts they shared with me.
Papa Valera
My father, or as I lovingly referred to him as papa, was an incredible storyteller; he wasn’t an overtly talkative man but he had an exceptional gift for build up and execution, especially longwinded jokes.
Emotions made him really uncomfortable and when he was upset his way to deal with it was to walk away. What he didn’t have in emotional awareness, he made up with curiosity and creativity.
No matter what he was looking at: a trinket at a thrift store, the details of an old house, a silver antique vase or the forest floor: all had the possibility for containing magic and awe. You could feel his whole body light up when he was interested in something.
That way of seeing the world, of interacting with the ordinariness of life with curiosity and an almost-childish interest was one of his greatest gifts.
He finished art school after leaving the army in his early 20’s, which I believe gave his imagination a much-needed outlet for the humiliation he experienced as a Soviet Army trainee. He loved to paint in watercolor - many of his paintings are observational: a flower in a vase, a river view near a fortress. I think dark, dramatic lines made him uncomfortable. I believe he much more preferred to be on the periphery, to witness the ways of the world rather than interrupt them.
This was the way he approached photography, always the quiet witness. He candidly caught the gorgeous moment of my childhood without intercepting and directing, allowing the magic and beauty of his subjects to reveal themselves.
He died peacefully in his sleep in 2001 without any prior complaints; his untimely death, just as we were beginning to bridge the emotional space between our two islands, was very hard on me and created a gaping hole in my heart.
Years later, I started to call on him for guidance and, as my grief began to shift, I felt his essence all around me more and more.
As a way to honor him, I would set creative altars all around my apartment. I painted and doodled with him in mind, feeling my hand being guided by his gentle presence. When I look out at the world, I channel his child-like curiosity and intuitive interest.
By his example, he left me an important reminder to try not take myself too seriously. Laughter and awe can often be the way we sweeten and lighten our life.
Thank you for all your sweet gifts, Papa.