Art and Sol - a New York Times article
IN A SLEEPY VILLAGE IN MEXICO, THE REAL SURREAL LIVES ON. BY ANTHONY COHAN
Photographs by Trujillo/Paumier
On my second morning in Erongarícuaro, I rose at dawn and slipped out of a converted stable room into the gardens adjoining a vine-trellised stone house built by a Venetian countess who found her way here by horseback in the late 1930s. The air was cool, a pale moon lingered in the sky, and I could glimpse through trees the ‘‘infinitely beautiful lake of Pátzcuaro,’’ as that tireless early-19th-century traveler and genius Alexander von Humboldt described it. Still half asleep, suffused with a residual buzz from mescal sipped on the erstwhile contessa’s veranda the night before, I let myself out through an old wooden gate and took the street called María Luisa Martínez (after a local heroine of the revolt against the Spaniards) to its end, then clambered down a path to the lake.
Link to the complete Art and Sol article
IN A SLEEPY VILLAGE IN MEXICO, THE REAL SURREAL LIVES ON. BY ANTHONY COHAN
Photographs by Trujillo/Paumier
On my second morning in Erongarícuaro, I rose at dawn and slipped out of a converted stable room into the gardens adjoining a vine-trellised stone house built by a Venetian countess who found her way here by horseback in the late 1930s. The air was cool, a pale moon lingered in the sky, and I could glimpse through trees the ‘‘infinitely beautiful lake of Pátzcuaro,’’ as that tireless early-19th-century traveler and genius Alexander von Humboldt described it. Still half asleep, suffused with a residual buzz from mescal sipped on the erstwhile contessa’s veranda the night before, I let myself out through an old wooden gate and took the street called María Luisa Martínez (after a local heroine of the revolt against the Spaniards) to its end, then clambered down a path to the lake.
Link to the complete Art and Sol article
