Hermann Bellinghausen, as a craftsman, creates “silently, without a mold, one piece at a time.”

Daniel López Aguilar

La Jornada Newspaper, Sunday, June 1, 2025, p. 4

The poet, chronicler and editor Hermann Bellinghausen (Mexico City, 1953) reveals another skin in his book Mester de alfarería, that of the artisan of stories who shapes unique, necessary and irregular narratives, like pieces of clay.

This collection, published by Ficticia in collaboration with the University of Veracruz, was presented yesterday at the Valle de Bravo Book Fair. Like someone patiently arranging slowly molded objects, the author offers stories that are eager to be read and heard.

I don't think I'll make porcelain, but I do make pottery , he said in an interview with La Jornada.

For decades, the journalist, activist, and tireless traveler has explored the lands of deep Mexico, the land of indigenous communities and rural areas, where social struggles and insurgent movements are not mere rhetorical figures but a part of everyday life.

Now, in this work, fiction takes center stage. The title alludes, of course, to the mester de clercía, although there are no monks or copyists here. What beats through these pages is a narrative pulse crafted by hand, as if each story were a figurine turned from the wheel.

The first, about a potter obsessed with his creations, serves as a key. It seemed like a metaphor for myself. I'm always writing something new, and sometimes that overwhelms you , added the director of the Ojarasca supplement, published monthly in this newspaper.

The book's cover reinforces this idea. It's a photograph taken by Bellinghausen himself at dawn in Xochimilco, in which he doesn't appear, but rather the captured moment: the mist, the light, the silence.

I experienced that moment alone, and it was as if something very ancient was speaking to me. It seemed like a perfect symbol for the book. That's what stories are like: they appear silently and floating , he recalled.

Unconcerned with literary trends and without following editorial manufacturing patterns, this collection of stories is the result of a long, if discreet, practice.

I always thought there were different kinds of storytellers. In my generation, the roles were very defined: poets, essayists, and storytellers. I never really knew where I fell. But I've always written fiction. It's just that I didn't bother to make it obvious , the author emphasized.

The stories move between evocation, chronicle, and invention, without settling entirely into any of them. The voice that runs through them doesn't impose itself; rather, it accompanies, like someone speaking without raising their voice too much.

Fiction sometimes tells the truth better than the truth itself. A reporter can't invent. A columnist, if lucky, allows himself certain liberties. But short stories give you more freedom: you can choose the tone, the pace, and even the facts.

In that freedom, he found respite during the most intense years of his journalistic work, especially in Chiapas.

When reality hits you every day, writing fiction was a way to take a break. To tell lies, let's say. Or to create stories based on memories. Sometimes I don't know if a character is me, but I like to think that writing is also a way to get to know people.

Nature, always present in his life, permeates the texts naturally: the sea, the animals, the wind, the southern landscapes appear effortlessly.

I've spent a good part of my life outdoors. As a kid, I jumped into rivers and climbed hills. Then I lived in Chiapas for 20 years, much of that time in the jungle. That stays with you. The stories take place in the countryside because that's what I know. I've seen many wild animals. They fascinate me. It's only natural that they appear , the narrator stated.

This same connection extends to the indigenous peoples of Mexico, with whom Bellinghausen maintains a deep connection, both political and emotional. Their presence filters into the texts, sometimes symbolically; other times, with direct clarity.

"I don't usually explicitly refer to those experiences in my poetry, but I do in my fiction. If you write about the country, it eventually comes out. Even if it's fiction, even if it becomes something very poetic. You can't avoid it."

I can't speak for the people. But I can record what I've seen, what they've told me. My way of honoring them is not to explain them. Just to listen, to let the story flow.

And among these plots, humor also sneaks in, almost despite itself.

“I never try to be funny, and I don't think I am. But sometimes I laugh at what I write. Situations unfold a bit on their own. Sometimes I know where they're going; other times, the characters pull me along. I've had it happen that someone slips into another episode, as if they want to go back. Sometimes I do it on purpose; other times I don't even realize it until I reread it.”

Music also appears. Not as a theme, but as an atmosphere, as background noise that at times takes center stage. It enters as it enters life. I don't say: music's coming now, but if the moment calls for it, it's there.

However, Hermann Bellinghausen's relationship with the publishing market has been, to say the least, elusive.

I've never been given much credit. Most of my books have come out through universities or small publishers. I don't have any books in the industry. I tried, but it didn't work. The big labels want you to have a profile, like rockers. And I don't have one.

Far from regretting it, he accepts this condition calmly. "Perhaps it's better this way. If I had more visibility, I might not be able to write the way I do. I prefer to continue working like a potter: silently, without a mold, one piece at a time ," he concluded.

Alondra Flores Soto

La Jornada Newspaper, Sunday, June 1, 2025, p. 4

A field of giant sunflowers at the New York Botanical Garden is born to delight the senses, and the flowers that inspired Vincent van Gogh's paintings become a living canvas with the colorful brushstrokes of one of the world's most admired artists.

Van Gogh's Flowers is the title of the exhibition at this natural oasis in the American city. On certain nights, the swirling patterns of the Starry Night canvas will shine in the sky with an avant-garde drone show, the first of its kind at a New York cultural institution, the Bronx-based living museum announced.

Vincent van Gogh (1853–1890) is considered a Post-Impressionist painter. His explosion of color, symbolism, and passionate brushstrokes revolutionized the history of art.

He died unsuccessfully, mired in depression, poverty, and without selling his paintings. "The sadness will last forever ," were probably his last words, as he wrote to his brother Theo in a letter. Almost 135 years after his death in Auvers-sur-Oise, France, he is one of the most beloved and valued artists, not only in the art world but also in popular culture.

Painters understand nature and love it, and they teach us to see , Van Gogh wrote in his wonder and desire to capture it in his art. Flowers, fields, and trees are frequent motifs in the canvases he left for the world to admire. The sunflowers, painted numerous times, and the violet irises are some of his most famous paintings.

Founded in 1891, the New York Botanical Garden aims to connect people, plants, and the adventure of science, seeking to explore the joy, beauty, and respite of nature . Spring and summer are the best times to visit the 48 gardens spread across one square kilometer, as these are the seasons when the climate allows for a lush botanical variety. One of the centerpieces is the Haupt Conservatory, a wrought-iron greenhouse.

The installation, inspired by the Dutch painter's paintings, will be open from May 24 to October 26, in an explosion of floral colors. The Haupt Conservatory and its surroundings have been transformed this spring. Botanical arrangements and contemporary art pieces bloom to bring Van Gogh's world to life and allow visitors to enter the canvases.

With vibrant colors and blooming beauty at every turn, including a monumental sunflower field to stroll through, come connect with the natural world that inspired the artist's vision —it's the Botanical Garden's captivating invitation.

In a video released by the institution, Kelly Ivanoski, in charge of the Nolen greenhouses of this orchard, explains how they work to germinate and care for the plants in the exhibition, which will show many varieties of sunflowers and related species, we will have anything that evokes what Van Gogh showed in his art, the color and brightness .

In addition, the garden of the Arles hospital where he was interned, painted in 1889, is recreated with a representation of natural flowers and architectural elements.

Contemporary artists created pieces that integrate into the space, including a field of giant sunflower sculptures for visitors to wander through , designed by Cyril Lancelin. Sculptor Amie Jacobson and graphic artists Lee Baker and Catherine Borowski, founders of Graphic Rewilding, also collaborated to bring nature-inspired graphic murals into the public space, counterbalancing the urban landscape.