Sunshine and Olly

by Jonathan Blaustein

I’m taking two construction classes at UNM-Taos.

Ironically, one class is in the Art Building, where I used to be the boss, and no one seems to know who I am anymore.

(I left 10 years ago.)

It’s no coincidence, that I’m trying to pick up some IRL skills in a completely different industry, as by now, this deep into 2026, everyone knows the warning calls I sent out in late 2022 and early 2023, (as I wrapped up my tenure at A Photo Editor,) were all-too-prophetic.

Newspapers, magazines, websites, news agencies, galleries, art schools, and now even entire universities have disappeared. 

Tens of thousands of people have lost their livelihoods, across a host of creative industries, but the media and visual arts fields have been particularly crushed. 

(Not a lot of good news out there.) 








As I was saying, I’m taking two classes, and yesterday, we were working on an adobe grief sculpture, designed by my teacher Mark Goldman, and sponsored by Red Willow Hospice. (The Lor Foundation funded the installation in Baca Park, here in Taos.)

One young guy, Edwin, from Chihuahua, Mexico, apologized for his poor English, and I suggested we could speak to him in Spanish, and he could respond in English, so we all got to practice. 

Just then, another guy in class asked Edwin, (in English) if he had ever been to Oaxaca, and I burst out laughing.

Edwin smiled, and shook his head no. He’d only ever been to Tequila, and one other place near there. (Because his family had moved from the poorest part of Mexico to the poorest part of America.)

Not a lot time to jet 1200 miles South to see Monte Alban, eat delicious string cheese, and drink margaritas in Puerto Escondido.

(Though Edwin did say they have a lot of tequila in Tequila.)






I had laughed, because I know Mexico well, though I haven’t been since 2017.
 
In the 15 years prior, I’d probably been to Mexico 10 times, North and South, including a bus tour with Jessie in which we crossed the border in Juarez, (on foot,) and didn’t stop until we hit Quintana Roo.

(Which is how I know what Chihuahua looks like.)

Needless to say, a poor kid from the Northern desert would know nothing of a sub-tropical region 1200 miles away. 

He hadn’t even been to Mexico City. 

Because Mexico is a vast, wild country, filled with dozens of different indigenous communities, nearly all of which have been exploited, ravaged, and humiliated for centuries by a ruling class that cares nothing for their sorrows. 

The Drug War began not long after we visited Juarez, because certainly no one would have attempted my trip by 2006.

Decades of war have led to untold suffering.

And suffering, as we know, leads to art. 






Yes, today is a blast from the past. 

I’m kicking it old school; blogging like I used to back in the day, when I kept it up weekly for 11 years. 

(We’re drifting between subjects, but always with an end goal in mind.)

I know the beginning of the post was a bummer, but right here is the pivot. 

Now it gets fun.

First, with some good news... the great city of Houston, which has been lovely to me in the past, has opened her arms to Theo, as he was accepted to his first choice college, Rice University, with nearly a full ride.

Rice, Houston, and Texas have invested heavily in my family, and we are so grateful.

But it’s no coincidence. 

I’ve visited H-town many times over the years, have friends and colleagues there, and the Museum of Fine Arts, Houston, has the broadest collection of my artwork of any institution in the world. 

Houston embraces people who embrace it, and who see it for what it has become: the most diverse, open, engaging, meritocratic, cool, inviting mega-city in the United States of America. 

Bag on Texas all you like, but people in the know realize the Texan cities, which are liberal, have to fight extra hard for their tolerant lifestyles, which makes for some awesome places. 

Houston’s arts community thrives, and it has always been a hotbed of photography, as FotoFest kicked off the American festival industry, and Anne Wilkes Tucker turned MFAH into a global-powerhouse-photo-institution. 

With Rice and NASA currently ascending, the largest medical center in the world, Houston’s pro sports teams being relevant, and even U of Houston having a massive college basketball program, I think everyone should look at what’s going on down there. 

(Just don’t go in summer. I’ll be there mid-August and I'm already sweating.)





Sorry to bury the lede, but Theo getting into Rice, (where he’ll study with Economist Jimmy DeNicco, whose own blog is pretty great,) is not the main reason to praise Houston today. 

Rather, I wanted to share some news that came across my desk, as I’m still a part-time, when I want to do the work, photo industry journalist. (In my spare hours.)

Yesterday, I learned the Museum of Fine Arts, Houston just announced an entirely new photography prize, which will be given annually, with a $50,000 stipend.

$50,000!

(Way more than a Guggenheim.)

It’s called the Edelman Impact Award in Photography at the Museum of Fine Arts, was established by long-time Chicago photo dealer Catherine Edelman, and will be offered to emerging and mid-career artists. 

The inaugural winner was chosen by a panel, including MFAH Head of Department/Curator of Photography, Lisa Volpe. 

And whom did they choose? 

Yael Martínez, a conceptual documentary photographer from Guerrero, Mexico, who had three family members disappeared during the Drug War. 

Edelman wrote, “I’m proud to present the first award to Mexican photographer Yael Martínez, whose work addresses the violence of organized crime in his country. Presenting this in conjunction with the MFAH makes it especially meaningful. Anne Tucker was one of the curators who took me under her wing early on, and decades later I have the joy of working with MFAH Curator Lisa Volpe, who continues that extraordinary legacy.”

Martínez manipulates the surface of his prints, and uses emotional and technical skills to bring real impact to his visual work, in addition to his storytelling abilities. 

Of his pinprick technique, Martínez writes, “The pinpricks in the images are an analogy for trauma, and how we as human beings can transform bad energy and a bad situation, and turn them into something positive, changing darkness into light." 

Because I’ve been out of the loop for bit, I only just learned of his body of work, despite the fact he was honored by the Prix Pictet, profiled in The New Yorker, and is a member of Magnum.

(Like I said, I’m taking construction classes. The industry has moved on.)







So I’ve moved on to just being an artist again. 

It’s less about the career, and more about making what I want to make because it brings me joy.

Expands my mind and clears out the bad juju.

Gives me hope in dark times. 

Which is, I’m sure, why Yael Martínez began making his art. 

(To help heal his soul.)

Congrats on his award, I hope you’ll check out his work, and keep your eyes on Houston, Rice and MFAH, because they’re making money moves.