Zilia have visited various Eco-regions in Colombia, remote zones such as the Orinoquía and the Pacific Rainforest to document the Afro descendants and indigenous brave act of resistance against land grabs and poverty. She witnessed interesting developments on community-based conflict resolution and peace building.
Friday, 31 January 2014
Zilia Castrillon is a journalist and photographer from Colombia who lives in Toronto. Her photography illustrates compelling stories of complex events of social processes and multiple resistance struggles. Aspects of community life and people’s deep psychological traits and identity are revealed in these images.
Posted by vv at 16:32
Tuesday, 28 January 2014
Tuesday, 7 May 2013
Poem and illustration by Viviana Gomez - May 07, 2013
Picture by Jaqueline Vazquez
Que el viento intente detenernos de los cabellos,
que los dientes de león nos hagan zancadillas,
que el sol quiera cegarnos el camino.
No importa si estamos juntos.
huyamos hacia el borde rugiente,
Posted by vv at 14:19
Friday, 4 January 2013
Sunday, 2 September 2012
Story by Ivanna Lopez Gomez,12, based on the painting by Chris Van Allsburg, for a project in her school.TITLE: The Seven Chairs CAPTION: “The fifth one ended up in France.” From the book: “ The Mysteries of Harris Burdick”
“It’s the fifth floating chair!” – said a man running out of the church. You could tell that he was traumatized just by looking at his face. It was all dirty as if he fell in dirt when he was running. He looked like he was crying out. He was too weak to make a tear. As he ran past me I could smell his sweat from running so fast. I went inside to see what was going on.
It was 1809. There had been a floating chair in 5 countries now. First was England. Then Spain. Then Germany. Then the United Stated. Now France.
As I was running inside the church, I heard millions of screams. I saw people running as if there was a horrible creature chasing them. I smelled the delicious food people dropped in fight. I tasted people anticipation to get out and mine to see what’s going on. I felt the wind coming from the church windows.
I stopped. I saw 2 men simply standing peacefully. Other then those 2 no one was there. I looked up. I saw a floating chair. But for the first time ever someone was sitting on the floating chair.
Posted by vv at 11:58
Monday, 23 July 2012
|Photo by Viviana Gomez - All rights reserved|
We are on our way before the city is complete awake. The air is crispy, new and fresh, anticipating a hot day that is not there yet. Everything is goldish bright, tinted with long shadows.
We are in the middle of downtown but we take the short cut through the parks and we feel like walking in a forest full of marvellous things ready to be discovered. The water sprinklers are finishing its last round and we dance a giggling dance to avoid get wet. One of the sprinklers is hitting a garbage can. “It is the cleanest garbage can of the city” – I say and he laughs. The squirrels are following us from a shy distance hopping we have something for them, but we have nothing in the morning. When we come back, the rest of our lunches and snacks will be for them, for sure.
In the second park we spot a red winged black bird. We approach silently trying to get as close at it as possible. Finally the bird flies away showing us its beautiful red wings and he wows. We always see the same guy sitting in the same bench, working in his iPad and sometimes talking to his iPad; a lady practicing her movements of Tai Chi Chuan; the runners in colourist outfit; and the bikers in rude speed passing by too close.
And at the end of the last park we come across another parent in his way to drop his son to his summer camp. And I and the parent smile each other recognizing us in an accomplice pride.
by Viviana Gomez - July 23, 2012
Posted by vv at 16:56
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