I’m not sure I remember all of our names / No estoy seguro en nuestros nombres
Sameen Mahboubi, Oscar Alfonso & Relations
2020
Avocado Seedlings, Stories
Hello
I’m apparently twenty-seven and a half now which means that I’m older than both of my parents were when I was born. Alas, I currently rent and own nothing that can be called home, am still in school, have no child other than you and your siblings, and like everyone I know am living through a pandemic that we were not planning for.
Through this I’ve been thinking a lot about expectations and about relationships. About the family members I missed out on as a kid in Vancouver, of the friends I left in order to go to Toronto, and of all of the other folks who have entered, left, remained, or moved on into so many other directions. Honestly, I’m not sure I remember all of our names. As this distance growns, I’ve been thinking of what stories might already be lost. I hope that through you, some of this will be preserved.
You came to me through a friend, whose family works a fruit stand in the Market in Mixcoac. At least this is who I believe you most likely to be, though there is the chance some of you may have come through my grandmother’s dining table, ferried over from the Central de Abastos in the City’s east. I am told that four fifths of the food in this city that is now your home comes through this place. You likely made many friends there, but beyond that I do not know what grove or forest gave rise to you. For this I am sorry.
You are now in pots that I scrounged from my grandmother’s patio. They are made from clay and are painted a deep red — not crayola — but a nice red. Parts of them are peeling, and I confess that one is cracked in two places. They have been in this house for as long as I remember. You may not be able to see it yet, but they are formed with plants and palm trees to keep you company. You are growing in these pots surrounded by soil: commercial tree planting soil harvested here in Mexico, as well as the fine dry soil that was pulled from underneath the house you now live in. I have mixed it with tezontle and wood chips — I hope this last detail is not unsettling for you.
I sent out 117 invitations to my relations for stories on your behalf. Some relationships were short but important, others have lasted lifetimes. Some never replied, others were unable to send you something at this time. Some… some I’m sure we’ll hear from five months from now when you are older, asking about ‘some project,’ or wondering if it is now too late. Even now as I write this, I do not know exactly how many stories I might yet read to you over the coming days. Trees grow faster than replies. I hope these stories help you to understand me, yourselves, your world, and our shared relations.
We are after all in a pandemic, so you will hear from the administration who will describe how you, and your fellow plants, might approach this new challenge. You will learn of avocados, siblings, and forests in far away places, and of stars that sing in search of friendship. You may be asked many questions you might not have answers to. You will hear a great many stories for you, and about you, even if you do not know it yet. Some may be hard to hear.
Through all of this I hope you grow. For now and forever, our children you will be.
Relations
Shared by Beau Rhee
Shared by Charlotte
Shared by Christopher Mendoza
Shared by Danni Gárate Cubillos
Shared by Davey Samuel Calderon
Desde Dubravka Sužnjević
Shared by Emny Moghrabi
Shared by Francisco Berlanga
Shared by Giulio
Shared by Jin-me Yoon
Shared by Joni Cheung
Shared by Joseph
Shared by Keivan Mahboubi
Desde Laura Estrada
Shared by Lily Cryan
Shared by Luis Guerra
Shared by Maria Hupfield
Shared by Natalie Chan
Desde Nubia Santiago
Shared by Opal Mclean
Desde Paola Quiros-Cruz
Shared by Philip Leonard Ocampo
Shared by Phoebe Huang
Desde Ricardo Lira
Shared by Salathiel
Desde Stephanie Durán Castillo
Shared by Prodpran
The Patio / El Patio
This project was carried out in Mexico City near the former lakeshore of el Lago de Texcoco in the vicinity of the rivers Tacubaya, Becerra, y de la Piedad which were progressively buried and entombed in concrete between 1949 and 1956. The patio is near the ruins of Mixcoac, a Mesoamerican settlement dating back to the period when the Valley was overseen by the city of Teotihuacán (400-600 CE), a multi-ethnic city state believed to have likely been populated by Otomi and Nahua peoples. Mixcoac was continually inhabited through to the times of the Mexica and the Triple Alliance of Tenōchtitlān, Texcoco, and Tlacopan, before being abandoned after the Spanish Conquest. Mixcoac forms part of what was then known by the Mexica as Anáhuac, or "that situated near or between waters."
Este proyecto se llevó a cabo en la Ciudad de México cerca de la antigua riviera del Lago de Texcoco, en la cercanía de los ríos Tacubaya, Becerra, y La Piedad cuales fueron entubados en concreto entre 1949 y 1956. El patio se encuentra cerca de las ruinas de Mixcoac, un asentamiento mesoamericano que data del período Teotihucano (400-600 d.c.), una ciudad multi-étnica que probablemente fue poblada por Otomíes y Nahuas. Mixcoac fue poblado hasta los tiempos de los Mexicas y de la Triple Alianza de Tenochtitlán, Texcoco y Tlacopan, antes de ser abandonado después de la conquista. Mixcoac forma parte de lo que en ese entonces se conocía como el Anáhuac, o “lo que se encuentra cerca o entre aguas.”