Beauty in the midst of ugliness

All of the artwork I have chosen for my office inspires me in some way, especially my beloved painting of Frida Kahlo and the framed, beaded folk art piece next to it. These are a reminder of time spent working on one of the most significant projects in my journalism career.

Shortly before I left daily newspapering, a colleague and I wrapped up a year-long project reporting on the disappearances and killings of women in Ciudad Juarez, a Mexican city bordering El Paso, Texas. Our on-site reporting was limited to six weeks, so we spent most of our time conducting long, intensive interviews.



The few times we forced ourselves to break away from work chores was to shop the few artesania (folk art and crafts) shops near downtown. Walking along aisles adorned with colorful handcrafted wares was the best way we knew to relax and forget about the ugliness of the violence surrounding us.

I think about this now as I hear news about the latest drug-related violence along the U.S.-Mexico border. This time, three workers from the U.S. consulate in Juarez were killed, setting off a maelstrom of politicking on both sides of the border that is sure to snarl any efforts to solve the killings.

One of the things that always struck me about Ciudad Juarez (and many other Mexican cities) is the constant juxtaposition of the modern with the traditional. A perfect example are Tarahumara Indians, who are seeking to preserve their way of life in rural communities, yet needing to interact with life in the city.

Tarahumaras are known worldwide for their competitive runners, but I hope they eventually get recognized for their crafts, as well. The beaded art piece that now hangs in my office was created by Tarahumara women for the Artes Indigenas de Chihuahua (Indigenous Arts of Chihuahua). The non-profit arts group has helped Taruhumara and other indigenous communities in the Mexican state of Chihuahua, where Juarez is located, sell their wares. I remember being pleasantly surprised when I found some of the group's artwork for sale at a boutique in Santa Fe, New Mexico last year.

This "tortillera," a specially designed cloth to keep tortillas warm, features four of these little beaded dolls. I think it's too nice to use for its intended purpose so I'm thinking of framing all four, keeping one and giving the rest as gifts to people who enjoy folk art. (I would love to hear if you have any other ideas for ways to better enjoy this beaded folk art.)

I've always believed that the arts are one of few nuggets of hope in any community struggling with problems like violence and poverty. I certainly don't think these are the answer to such ingrained problems, but a way for people in the community to express their creativity and to earn some much needed money.



As for my Frida painting, I bought it at a restaurant in Juarez aptly named, "Frida's Restaurant." The food was delicious and the service great, but what I remember most was the Frida-inspired decor. Despite much traveling throughout several Mexican states, I have never seen a restaurant quite like Frida's Restaurant. I wonder now whether it receives enough business in a city that even most Mexicans are afraid to visit nowadays.


Here I am standing outside Frida's restaurant while working in Juarez in 2003.

The ceiling inside Frida's Restaurant featured this great mural.

Living and working in Juarez for a short time allowed me a chance to discover some hidden gems in a city that is forever in the headlines for its never-ending violence. The Tarahumara's beautiful handiwork. The entrepreneurial spirit that pushes business owners to believe a restaurant like Frida's can flourish in a place like Juarez. The feistiness of ordinary people who press on with their dreams and goals in the midst of such violence.

Today, I look at my Frida painting and my beaded art by Tarahumara women and I remember that these are the kind of things that eventually define a city and not the headlines.

Author chat: Writer illuminates relationships amid rich cultural backdrops

Thrity Umrigar is a writer who usually takes us to her native India in her books, but the terrain that she really explores in her writings is more about the mysteries of the heart and less about a country.

Relationships are Ms. Umrigar's specialty. She is a bestselling author who skillfully weaves stories about mothers and daughters, husbands and wives, friends and others in four novels that have been widely praised and frequently discussed in book clubs. So much so that I think her memoir, First Darling of the Morning, has gone almost ignored.

Memoir writing is a tricky business. Writers must recapture times past in their lives with an eye out for good stories while also remaining true to actual events and feelings. Ms. Umrigar does both, rendering a portrait of a privileged yet emotionally trying childhood in Bombay, a city she paints as one of great disparities and ironies, and one that ultimately becomes a character itself in the hands of this writer.

First Darling of the Morning is a compelling tale of how Ms. Umrigar found her way in the world, pushing past her insecurities to pursue a life beyond that prescribed by the insular Indian community that forms the backdrop of her childhood and adolescence.

Ms. Umrigar joins us today for our latest author chat:

Photo courtesy Thrity Umrigar

Your memoir was about breaking free from constraints, both societal and self-imposed, to help you become the writer and person you are today. Did you find that revisiting your childhood and adolescence in writing this memoir was an easy process, or was it painful even after all these years?

It was painful only to the extent that I had to rely on not a regular "thought" or imaginative process but instead "feel" those thoughts, try and recall the outrage and powerlessness of a child. So it wasn't the memories that were necessarily painful but the process of putting myself inside a child's shoes.

In one of your writings, you mention that there is a "terrible giving up" of identity, language, family, etc. for immigrants. What did you lose in leaving Bombay for Ohio? Are you still friends with Jesse (childhood friend)?

Yes, I'm still friends with Jesse. But I've lost touch with many other friends. And I've lived apart from family -- although we're still emotionally close -- for many years, which means you miss out on the inevitable aspects of life: children growing up, parents growing old etc. And to a certain aspect, you stop being the person that you once were and grow a new identity in a new land. which is not necessarily bad but is a kind of loss.

I read that your memoir was first published in India. When or how was a decision made that this book would also find a receptive audience in the United States?

I kept getting e-mails from American readers of my other novels saying they'd heard about the memoir but couldn't find copies. I mentioned this to my agent who mentioned it to my publisher...

What is your fondest memory of readers' reaction to your memoir?

When people who bear no obvious resemblance to me -- in terms of upbringing, nationality, life experience -- tell me that I've told their life story. Or described some aspect of their emotional life that they've never revealed to anyone. That's a thrill.

Photo courtesy Thrity Umrigar

We no longer have just Salman Rushdie to rely on for a dose of modern Indian culture and writing. Who are some writers you would recommend for accurate depictions of life in India or the Indian community in the United States?

Gosh, there are so many great Indian/Pakistani writers. It's hard to know where to begin. Here are a few books I've loved in the last few years: Inheritance of Loss by Kiran Desai, White Tiger by Aravind Adiga, Moth Smoke by Mohsin Hamid, Karma and Other Stories by Rishi Reddi.

I imagine you found it liberating to break away from journalism writing to writing fiction, but what are the challenges for you in writing fiction?

To write a book that's emotionally true and has integrity. To never make compromises in plot or character development. I dislike books that rely too heavily on coincidence or other cheap tricks to move the plot ahead.

Photo courtesy Rob Muller, who took the photo for the Cleveland Arts Prize, which awarded Ms. Umrigar a mid-career artist award this year

What inspires your writing, not just other authors, but life in general? How do you break away from the dreaded writer's block?

I think the best solution to writer's block is to write when you feel like writing and to write when you don't. Everybody goes through periods of "I have nothing left to say." But then you hear a bell ring or a bird chirp or a child cry and you find that the world is full of stories and your job is simply to "find" a story that's already there and tell it as elegantly as you can.

I think writers have to walk a fine line. On the one hand, we should be completely involved in the world -- we should follow the news, be involved politically if we are so inclined, go to parties, be absorbed in family life, etc. But on the other, we should live in our heads, live in an imaginary world populated with ghosts. It's a kind of double vision.

I'm currently in Chicago for a book festival and last night I was walking near the riverfront and taking in the beauty of those old bridges etc., but all that time I was also imagining two young people walking on that same street, who may or may not be the protagonists of my next novel. It was like having two imaginary friends, like walking inside a day dream.

Flickr: cfcheever

What is typically your writing routine? How do you incorporate it into academic life?

I find that -- as much as I hate the hours -- waking up really early and writing in the morning works best for me.

What other writing are you working on now? How do you continue to challenge yourself as a writer?

I am working on another novel about four women who were young political activists in their college days and who are now reunited because of a tragedy. I challenge myself by trying to write novels that deal with a different set of preoccupations in each one.

Published in April 2009

To read more about Ms. Umrigar, go to her website here. To listen to a podcast interview of her, go to Off the Shelf here (can be downloaded onto an mp3 or iTunes).

It's got pink! And red! A writing room of my own

It was Virginia Woolf who said that a woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write fiction.



In my case, a room of my own is turning out to be the inspiration I need to get my writing juices flowing again after a couple of years of hibernation.

For years, I've craved a room decorated with bright colors, provocative artwork and my favorite books, in sharp contrast to the monastic writing room of novelist Roxana Robinson. This writer, whose works include a well-regarded biography of Georgia O'Keeffe, one of my favorite artists, tellls The New York Times in an article published a few days ago that her art-filled study lined with books had proven too stimulating for her to write. Instead, she now camps out to write in another room in her Manhattan apartment that is devoid of any remarkable characteristics, unless you count the brick wall she faces as she writes on her laptop.

Throughout my 14-plus years in journalism, I've found I work best at home, not in a cubicle or otherwise drab environments, though breaking news often has required I write in places as sparse as my car or a street corner.

Truthfully, I believe a writer passionate enough about her work can write anywhere. After all, there was one job exactly 10 years ago where I, too, stared at a brick wall much of the day. But instead of taking solace in my writing, I escaped to another job where I didn't feel so limited and had a desk overlooking one of California's main freeways. As it turns out, this job was the one for which I traveled the most. My last two years on the job were spent mostly on reporting assignments or working at home.

Now, here I am, no longer a full-time journalist since I prefer to be a full-time mom, but a writer nonetheless, of this blog and other writing projects. Except now, I have a multitude of new responsibilities and worries, which means I have less time to write, less time to get into a writing groove with two young kids running around. How then does one get inspired with a snap of the fingers?

I present to you my new writing room. Give or take a few details, it is the writing room of my dreams. I've been working on it almost a year now, juggling it with other decorating projects around the house and taking my time picking out furniture and artwork for it.

Perhaps my favorite painting in the room is of a little girl on a boat. As soon as I saw it on Ebay, I decided to buy the framed vintage painting because it reminded me of Xochimilco in my native Mexico City, although the description said the origin was unknown and possibly Hawaiian. I took a chance and bought it, but the framed painting arrived with the glass broken into countless tiny pieces. As I removed the painting from the broken glass, I noticed a slight notation in pencil on the back of the painting that said, "Xochimilco." Had the frame and glass arrived intact, I would have hung it as it was and never would have seen the notation or known that my instinct about the painting's origin was correct.

Most recently, I spent a couple of days painting a futon I bought unfinished 10 years ago after seeing the super-stylish Alison of My Little Happy Place make over a dresser in glossy turquoise. At first, I intended to refinish my thrifted desk a glossy pink, but decided against it at the last minute since time was limited and I still needed to strip off the old paint and varnish from the desk.

Here's how the futon looked before the paint job:

After the paint job:

Truthfully, my futon right after the paint job looked more like it belonged in a bordello than the office of a suburban mom. A quick online order for a new inexpensive cream-colored slipcover and a change of throw did wonders to save the project from further good-natured ribbing from my husband about how I had "ruined" a perfectly good (not pretty, but good) piece of furniture. More importantly, the room no longer looks unfinished with the futon painted pink.

Elsewhere in the office, you will find discounted bookcases and file cabinets from a Pottery Barn outlet near my home (since they are pricey direct from the store), original art found mostly on Ebay (keyword vintage painting turns up awesome deals), some vintage office supplies found on Ebay or at thrift stores and two $500 designer lamps I bought on sale for $50 each at a nearby Anthropologie. (Yes, it pays to develop relationships with the salespeople, who can phone you to alert you to sales on items you want.)




One glaring photo missing from this post is one of my desk, which will frankly have to wait a couple of years until I have much longer stretches at a time for a refinishing job. It is, at the moment, nothing remarkable to look at, what with my endless piles of papers and books all over it. I promise to post a photo of it and my ultra-large inspiration board that I hung next to it in the weeks to come.

As you can see, everything from the artwork to the futon in my new writing room is meaningful to me. The room, like my writing, has developed over time, with hard work and much love. Inspiration is everywhere now.

Sustainable living south of the border

Los Angeles Times/Photographer Don Bartletti

It takes heart and vision for someone to comb through piles of trash looking for things they can convert into useful and decorative items.

This is just what husband-and-wife architects Alejandro D'Acosta and Claudia Turrent of TAC Arquitectos in Ensenada, Mexico do for a living and as a way of life. Check out this week's Home section of the Los Angeles Times for a three-part photographic slideshow featuring the couple's sustainable living approach toward architectural and interior design. Times writer Barbara Thornburg explains in the story accompanying the photos how even an X-ray of a broken clavicle becomes art in the couple's home, whimsically decorated with thrift store finds and other recycled goods often taken from trash heaps.

More than 30 photographs by the Pulitzer Prize-winning photojournalist Don Bartletti showcase the couple's design projects, including their own home and wineries in the Guadalupe Valley region. The photos taken by Don, whose work often features Mexico subjects, are breathtaking shots depicting the landscape of the region.

The Times package is a refreshing read of a country ravaged in recent years by the violence caused by warring druglords. The story and photos are a reminder that the spirit of the people living there is one of resilience and resourcefulness.

Los Angeles Times/Photographer Don Bartletti