Lodestars Anthology Cover Photographer Interview: Jimena Peck

When I connected with Liz at Lodestars Anthology, I knew, from the very first second, that we were going to be a good pair. So many elements in our lives’ visions aligned. We were lucky enough to cross paths in Mexico City for a wonderful brunch that allows us to finally, personally connect.

After my last trip to Mexico last year, where I was working on different assignments, I showed Liz my Dia de Muertos project and she told me those were some of the most beautiful images she has received for the Mexico Magazine. Wow! I liked that project but I didn’t see such a potential. And there we go: that’s what I mean with pairs that work well, when each other can uplift the others work and help create something much better than alone.

After one of my pictures from that project made it to the cover of one of my favorite magazines in the world, the editor interviewed me - like they do to all the cover photographers- and I finally got the time to sit down and write thoughts about my work and my life.

Hope you enjoy it and mostly, I hope it inspires you to continue to create, connect and root.

Full Interview HERE

You can purchase the magazine - Which is actually almost like the most beautiful book - HERE

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Full Interview Below

To celebrate the release of the Mexico magazine, we spoke to Colorado-based cover photographer Jimena Peck about travel, image making, connectivity and Mexico’s Día de Muertos. If you’re craving colour, escape and positivity, Jimena and her natural, intimate photographs, is the artist for you.

What do you adore about photography? 

I believe photography connects directly to the soul. The energy in a photograph speaks to the deeper self, to what is singular in each person. Photography precedes language and is a conduit between consciousness, feelings and intellect. There are no barriers, no forced or imposed messages. Certainly, the viewer interprets through their own lens, but the natural ambiguity of an image is what draws my attention and keeps me searching for new stories. 

Can you remember the first photo you took? 

I cannot remember the very first photo, but I do remember when my dad first gave me his film camera to take on a school trip. We went to an aquarium and I came back with 24 poorly exposed images of the orcas jumping during a show. Most of them were also out of focus, but I still remember the feeling of excitement and the power of that little box that would change the way I see the world.

What is your favourite thing to photograph? 

I have always wondered what raw happiness is. Through my stories I try to find different ways to answer this question. Traveling has allowed me to contemplate all sorts of answers.

In my life, happiness has always been rooted in simplicity. When visiting small communities and exploring rural areas, mostly in Latin America, I feel I am a little closer to that raw joy. I can feel it in the air, I can taste it in every bite...

I feel we’ve been growing apart from the essential joy of simple things. My motive for photography is mostly inspired by the search for others who still hold simplicity close to their hearts and find happiness in the everyday.

Has your style changed over time? 

Although I have some common colours, light, and stories I am drawn to, my style is a result of my willingness to be an intimate observer of moments.

Physical migration forces you to surrender to reinvention, and my style hasn’t been the exception. Every story and place has a mood and as a documentarian I try to search for the soul of the story being told.

You have taken photographs around the world - has there been a particularly memorable photographic experience? 

My ongoing project on Argentinian yerba mate growers and plantations will have a big impact on my body of work. I am connected to the bones of the story - mate has been my most loyal companion since I can remember and there are so few stories about the hands behind the crops and the hills where it grows. Researching this most important plant in my life has allowed me to deeply understand its origins and cultural significance. 

I’ve had the chance to fully connect with the hands that grow the plants, learn about its historic significance, intrinsic economical and political complications, and the land where it grows: surrounded by the lush jungle of Misiones Province. Lately, exploring deeper rather than broader has inspired me, and nothing runs deeper in my blood than mate.

Do you often collaborate or travel with other photographers - what makes these experiences special? 

While a few travelling companions have been photographers, for the most part I have sought to connect with people from other fields. This way I feel there is more of a richness of collaboration. For many years I was just a solo traveller craving connection and diversity. I feel that the world is  too big to only connect with people in my field.

However, I should note that some talented photographer friends have taught me everything I know when it comes to approaching issues and subjects, photo ethics, tricks and tips.

Can you tell us a little about the photograph on the cover of Lodestars Anthology Mexico? 

This cover is a very special image because it wasn’t a planned shoot. After several days in Chiapas, Mexico, the group of women I was working with invited me to spend Día de Muertos with them in their community. I didn’t feel like taking lots of images because of respect and just to be a little more present for a while. This cross covered with the most beautifully discoloured flowers felt like the perfect symbol of all my feelings about this space in time. It’s just the mesmerising raw happiness I’ve been talking about. It represents the celebration of a simple but fulfilled life. 

What advice do you have for aspiring photographers? 

To be grateful and rooted. The best photographers I know are the ones that are deeply connected to the story being told, regardless of formal education. Know why you are doing what you do and connect with your heart and soul. The best stories are the ones close to you, whether that’s physically or emotionally.

Also, be aware that the world is moving in a direction where we are looking for stories told with a deep familiarity. You are a story, you have a story - search for that and you will shine. It’s not an easy road and uncertainty is always along for the ride, but I feel so grateful to be able to work doing what I’ve always loved.

Growing up in a developing country, the idea of being an artist was a very tricky decision and my family pressured me to do something ”more formal”. I now understand my parents' fears and can relate a little. Life was good to me, and I’ve had so many doors open than I would have ever imagined. Just be grateful for every little step and remember there’s usually not an end to the stairs. Be grateful for every step you take.

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What's at the top of your travel wish list? 

Although I live in the USA now, Argentina will always be the place I belong to and, in the long run, I know I will return home. Argentina has always been my love and there’s so much I need to learn about and see there; so many people and stories I still need to discover to fully understand my own place.

This is a difficult question right now when we are going through one of the most impactful health emergencies we’ve ever seen. I’ve been wondering for awhile how we are affecting the earth and our people with every step we take. You have to find what moves you, but let’s try to learn from this experience and understand that even though - thanks to technology, media and communications - we might believe the sky is the limit, as a species we will end up paying a much higher price for it than we initially thought. I feel we need to be more cautious and mindful with the places we go, far or close, and explore more deeply and respectfully. 

And again, make the most of every minute on any road, that’s when the big magic starts to happen.

To see more of Jimena’s work, pop over to her website. The Mexico magazine can be purchased here.

ODA al zapatero laborioso y erudito: Buenos Aires shoemakers by Jimena Peck

 “Cada año la moda destruye lo que ha admirado y adora lo que ya está por destruir” Roland Barther.

La volatilidad de la moda berreta, que muere cada temporada antes de que podamos sentirla en su esplendor, ha hecho que el mercado zapatero haya tomado un vuelco de dirección: los zapateros de oficio en sus talleres y los diseñadores lidiando con el mundo hostil del afuera. Años de prueba, error y decepción, han hecho que a los zapateros tradicionales de Buenos Aires no les interese estar en el centro de la tendencia: ese mundillo está muy contaminado y en sus pequeños talleres todavía logran mantener esa pureza orgánica del trabajo artesanal que supo conquistar sus corazones.

Este proyecto es una oda visual al zapatero: al laburante, dedicado y erudito; Al creador desinteresado de la fama, haciendo magia en sus remotos talleres, alejados de las luces y los flashes.

Una Oda al trabajo reivindicador y al oficio salvador. Al labor que da orgullo al crear y al trabajo que dignifica cada amanecer, tanto,  que se vuelve un hábito del cual, vaya la redundancia, ya no se puede volver.

Una oda a la comunidad de una industria que pese a las mareas impredecibles de inflación, recesión, corralitos y patacones supieron forjar una orgullosa industria nacional del zapato.

A la honra de hacer algo con tanta dedicación y amor que no existirá máquina en el planeta tierra que te pueda suplantar. Porque la sensibilidad y el ojo de un zapatero, no hay máquina que pueda mimicar. Los zapateros dominan sus maquinolas sin miedo a perder el control, no hay nada que ellos no sepan y amen arreglar. Es parte: lo que se rompe, se repara. 

Cada puntada y cada tijeretazo son parte del engranaje de una meditación orquestada por un diseñador, quien tiene su séquito de cortadores, aparadores, armadores y empaquistas trabajando en una armonía meticulosa que pocas industrias pudieron lograr.

Algunos gorriones, máquinas y tangos invaden los talleres de una melancolía sencilla y mecánicamente armoniosa. 

Hay en estos personajes un hilo conector: son todos mini planetas independientes, con sus propias reglas y amores, donde exploran sus fantasías que a su vez son parte de una galaxia mucho más extensa.

Orgullosos de ser independientemente dependientes de esa grandeza, que los guió para formarse con la humildad del oficio. Personifican y confirman la teoría de lo que lo que se mama, no se hereda pero con eso se crece y se evoluciona, y muy probablemente, se muere. 

¿O existió alguna vez un zapatero que no haya muerto haciendo zapatos?

Tus muertos, mis muertos, nuestros muertos; Dia de Muertos, Chiapas for Lodestar Anthology Magazine

High on a hill overlooking the small town of Romerillo Chamula in the Los Altos region of Chiapas, Mexico stand twenty-two nine-meter, blue and green crosses demarking the pantheon, the ceremonial burial place for the municipality's dead.  Originally constructed by the ancestors of the Tzotzil, the indegenous people who inhabit the remote villages of these highlands near the Guatemalan border, the crosses significantly pre-date the arrival of Christianity to the region.  Legend has it that the ancient cross-builders quickly ran into trouble with the local spider monkey population. Bands of monkeys would steal through the cemetery at night, knocking down the crosses and ruining the pantheon. The villagers, having resurrected the crosses, donned conical hats with large streamers and brightly colored suits. They gathered in the pantheon to dance and sing in honor of the gods of heaven and earth, thus protecting the markers of the souls of their beloveds.  The plan succeeded, and the ceremony was repeated the next August and the next and the next. Today, the crosses remain, standing amidst a grove of tall pines. The Spanish attempted to suppress these traditions as Catholicism spread across the region in the sixteenth century, but instead the Chamulas, as the Tzozil people in this region are called, merged their pantheistic traditions of dance and music and food with the Day of the Dead and All Souls Day, the Catholic holidays that span the 1st and 2nd of November, when the veil between worlds thins and the dead return to visit.  

Because of this highland-region’s geographic isolation, the Days of the Dead, or the Sk´Ak´Alil Anima´Etik, traditions have remained largely unadulterated by the mainstream celebrations of central Mexico. No skull-painted faces. No parades. The ancient traditions remain much entact. When photographer Jimena Peck arrived in Los Altos Chiapas to photograph the crafts of the region’s renowned weavers,  she quickly discovered that few locals spoke Spanish. The majority of people speak only indegidious languages, mostly Tzotzil, a Mayan derivative.  In the middle of October, weaving came to a halt as people began to prepare for the holiday.They cleaned roads and swept the cemeteries, so the dead would not trip or lose their way, and began smoking/drying meat. This jerky is an offering: light and compact, therefore an easy food for the dead to travel with.  Families decorated the cemeteries with colorful flowers and left trails of marigolds--whose scent and bright color are meant to guide ancestors back to their families.  Here, the dead visit living relatives to strengthen the bonds of the community across the barrier between life-and-death, while the living honor their ancestors, to prevent them from becoming lonely, evil spirits.  

As Jimena followed the celebrations in the Romerillo pantheon and the villages of Romerillo-Chamula and Zinacantan, she noted that the celebrations for the holiday fell into two distinct realms: public and private.  Within each family, women and girls prepared a holiday meal of chicken broth and cabbage, handmade tortillas, coffee, sour atole (a hot, corn-meal beverage) and smoked beef--all served in clay dishes and jugs. The families placed chayotes (squash), corn cobs, reeds, oranges, bouquets of marigolds, dahlias and geraniums on the family’s table and before the ancestral altar, and spread pine boughs (a symbol of life) over the altar and floor. Small chairs were arranged in front of the altar so that the visiting souls of their ancestors could sit, rest, and eat.

No one slept on the eve of the holiday--they stayed awake, making offerings. On the morning of November 1, families arrived at the cemeteries with more food and offerings. They placed the edibles, liquor, Coca-cola, candles--even packs of cigarettes-- before openings constructed aside their relatives’ headstones (representing portals to the underworld), and they sat down next to the plots, made to look freshly dug and then covered with pine boughs, flowers, and boards that symbolize doors. 

In the Romerillo pantheon and the cemetery in Zinacantan, people drank posh or pox, a corn liquor much like moonshine, and poured shots over the graves and tombs. Musicians played, church stewards accompanied sacristans-- wearing black wool jorongos (panchos) and a type of Mayan heeled-shoe that pre-dates the arrival of the Spanish--as they  moved from grave to grave, praying with families in Latin upon request. Most families stayed all day.

In the afternoon of November 2, the dead retreat. Back home, the living dismantled the tables of offerings, lest any lonely, evil spirits try to enjoy them, too.

Kazu Oba: Japanese potter based in Colorado for Boulder Lifestyle Magazine

Stepping into Kazu Oba’s airy, minimalist studio in Colorado, he welcomed me wearing a casual t-shirt and jeans, his hands already sporting a light layer of clay. The workshop’s clean lines and white walls contrast beautifully with the star of the show: Oba’s pottery. A blend of found objects and natural shapes, these pieces resonate with soft, organic forms and rich neutral tones. It is immediately clear why Oba has received accolades across the country for his ceramics. 

I was struck not only by Oba’s unique creative vision, but by his humility. As a fellow immigrant to Colorado working in the arts, I connected with his experience arriving here years ago and working hard to forge his own path as an artist. Whether you’re coming from Argentina like me or Japan, as Oba did, migration can be both disorienting and inspiring for artists, shaping not only their perspectives, but their creative practices. In Oba’s case, the sculptor has merged the natural and the manmade, the Japanese aesthetic and that of his adopted home, into a resonant whole.

Kazu owns a studio along with his partner, also potter and jewelry designer, Yuka and their daughter Maya. Visit their O’baware studio’s website, here.

Full Article on Boulder Lifestyle Magazine

Text by Ben Wiese

Lining the perimeter of Kazu Oba’s house are many different pieces of tree trunks. By being in the right place at the right time and having an interest in such a thing in the first place, Oba has quite the collection of raw materials, coming from a total of eleven different places. 

Oba has spent the better part of the last thirty years becoming a world-renown potter and sculptor, but it was a number of years before Oba discovered that path. For the longest time, it was about finding out what truly connected him to his roots and what his part was in life.  

For his work, Oba largely draws from traditional tea ceremonies while apprenticing in Japan, as well as working in the restaurant business for fifteen years. He connected with the importance of the actual pottery and dishware—the feel, the weight, the rim of the cup—as well as what it represented within Japanese food culture. 

“I started becoming more interested in the dishes the food is served on. In Japan, it’s very common in a natural course of events, where decent chefs would start going to pottery shows or to visit different pottery towns of Japan. 

“You would start going to those and appreciate different types of pottery. Sooner or later, if you don’t get connected with a potter, you might start taking classes with the idea that one day you’d be serving your food on your pot.” 

Though ranging in quirk and appearance, Oba’s pottery and dishware – both in the Western world and Japan—is predicated on functionality and practicality. His sculptures, on the other hand, are less straightforward and more unpredictable.  

Primarily comprised of found materials in intriguing shapes and with unusual angles, Oba’s work is often a marriage between preserved natural beauty and humanity—the latter being metaphorically and occasionally physically conveyed by adding “the rim”—the part of the pottery that a person makes direct contact with. 

“With pottery, it’s something you interact with a few times a day. I worked in a restaurant, so the interest in pottery in me grew naturally. I make sculptures, different series, different sculptures and they may mean different things, but if I were to pick a couple just to explain what they are, maybe it could make sense, how they’re related.”

It wasn’t a lifelong dream of Oba’s to become one of the great pottery artist and sculptors of the United States. He fell into that almost by accident. [Oba first knew he wanted to come to America after seeing the movie Grease, but that’s probably for another time.]

But upon moving to Colorado, putting himself through school, and briefly studying to be a Buddhist Monk at a Monastery, Oba determined that his extremely rare skillset—making incredibly balanced and functional dishware and transforming found materials into works of art—was ideal for participating in something much bigger than himself. 

Oba happily invites people to attempt to define the meaning of his work. He’ll even flip a piece upside down if it will help someone better understand what they’re looking at. 

Casual and humble, Oba cares for all of his work the same way: down to the little details one might only notice while sipping on a cup of tea. 

“Personally I don’t really see the difference between sculptures and these 3D objects, or what we call pottery. I don’t necessarily devalue one or the other, and I think it’s not for me to say anything about crafts versus art. It’s this topic I’ll let the scholars and writers talk about that. I just make what I like to make.”

Denver based artist Annalee Schorr for Luxe Interior Magazine by Jimena Peck

Denver artist Annalee Schorr tricks your eye. Meeting her in her studio is a kaleidoscopic experience, brilliant colors whipped into shape by tight, controlled patterns — order from near-chaos. These are my favorite spaces to photographs and when called for an assignment for Luxe Magazine I felt grateful for the opportunity.

The creator of these exuberant works is surprisingly unassuming herself. Garbed in head-to-toe black, she leads me through the studio, explaining the nuances of her process. After years of experimenting with different methods, Schorr developed a unique style, often slicing off the top protective layer of her materials, painting the plexiglass beneath or even leaving it bare, brilliantly transparent. 

I found Schorr’s materials — from classic brushes to plexiglass — especially fascinating. The process of “making,” whether you’re creating a photograph, artisanry, or a painting, has always interested me. Schorr is deeply passionate about sourcing diverse materials to create her works, transforming plastic, metal, paint, even duct tape into hypnotic op-art. This mixed-media mishmash results in densely textured pieces that play with light and shadow, pattern and translucence. 

See more of Luxe Magazine HERE

Full Article HERE

Meet the artist HERE

Full article written by Monique Mchintoch for Luxe Magazine

Peek into the Denver-based studio of Annalee Schorr, and you’ll find more than standard paints and brushes. The artist enjoys extracting unexpected poetry from basic hardware store staples—think silvery aluminum sheets, mirrored Mylar, crystal-clear plexiglass and duct tape (which she collects in every color and pattern available). “I’m always looking for something that people don’t consider beautiful enough to make art,” confesses the artist.

From these humble supplies, Schorr builds complex geometry with hard-edge lines and dramatic splashes of color. “I’m very interested in structure, and how things are put together,” she explains. “It’s a way of making order out of chaos.”

The artist went beyond the canvas early on, starting with her kaleidoscopic-like plexiglass paintings. Though Schorr still makes works on more conventional surfaces like paper, plexiglass allows her to create many shapes to paint on, from razor-sharp parallelograms to staggered shards that wrap around corners. 

“I just happened to buy some plexiglass to use for framing,” recalls the artist about her first serendipitous experiments with the material. “It comes with a brown paper protective backing that you can peel off. So I started drawing on the paper and cutting out lines with an X-Acto knife.” She then builds her patterns color by color, peeling away segments of paper and filling each exposed section with acrylic paint. “The back of the painting ends up looking pretty sloppy,” says Schorr. “But the front is all precision.”

Some portions of plexiglass remain untouched. These transparent moments contrast with her vivid palette, from graphic black and white to Technicolor hues. “I think about weaving the colors together as I’m creating a piece,” says Schorr about this process. “Certain colors vibrate against each other, adding to the pattern’s optical illusion.”

For her larger installations, Schorr discovered duct tape is the perfect medium to translate this optical energy into a 3D space. She has filled entire rooms with glossy stripes of tape in her popular shows at Spark Gallery (an artists’ cooperative she’s been a part of since 1985).

The gallery will host the artist’s latest solo exhibition in January, where she continues her experiments transforming unusual objects into mind-bending visual feats. Over the decades, this search for beauty lurking among the mundane still drives her art practice, says Schorr. “I always want to get the viewer’s attention and make them see things in a different light.” 

Schorr poses in her studio (this page), surrounded by her works on paper and acrylic and duct tape installations. A sliced image of John McCain (opposite, left) offers a new perspective on portraiture. The artist carefully cuts away sections of the protective coating on the back of a sheet of material (opposite, right). After exposing sections of the plexiglass, she fills them in with paint. 

A Rare Vintage: Capsule Denver for 5280 Magazine by Jimena Peck

On a sunny spot in the Capitol Hill neighborhood of Denver, Kelly Meeks has transformed a century-old space into a fresh, modern store. I went to shoot at this 11th Ave building for 5280 Magazine Home. 

Home to Capsule, a shop where Meek’s owner personally sources vintage furniture and art from around the country. Just as this Arizona native has brought new life to Capsule’s brick building (built circa 1903), she puts on a new spin on vintage home decor. There’s nothing kitsch or “retro” about Capsule: here, a heavy dose of Midcentury sits alongside much older pieces, playing off each others’ shapes, textures, and patterns to create an eclectic look.

With such a diversity of objects and eras, it would be easy for Meeks’ shop to feel cluttered or chaotic — too many “conversation pieces” inhabiting the same space. Instead, the effect is of harmony. I’ve heard of Kelly Meeks many times, since she was launching her first venture, the eponymous Meek. It’s easy to understand why, years later, she’s come so far.

She has the ability to pull together disparate pieces, knowing innately which ones will serve her overall vision: stunningly modern, yet filled with items you know could only be found there.

Collaborating with talented entrepreneur women makes me happy.

To read the full story written by talented Kathryn O'Shea-Evan, go here.

If you want to see more of Kathryn’s work visit her site, here. 

To learn more about Capsule, here.

Uyuni Salt Flats - The mesmerising experience of exploring the fine line between earth and sky

Last fall I had the opportunity to visit the world’s largest salt flats, located in the beautiful country of Bolivia. They are known as Salar de Uyuni, and sit at an extreme altitude of 11,984 feet within the southwestern region. The flats are considered one of the most marvelous vistas in South America, and I can definitely see why.

Arriving to this otherworldly place can be a little complicated. Opting to go without a tour wasn’t an option at the time. Instead, we decided to embrace the idea of a more crowded truck, which ultimately allowed me to learn a little bit more about the area and connect with one of the most generous and fun Bolivians I’ve ever met. Our first stop was Colchani which is literally the Salt town, but seems to be struggling with keeping up nowadays. The people that live here depend on the salt as a way of making their living, which they extract and process with the same methods as in the old times. It is common to see the little mountains of salt being processed for consumption, as well as building components- in the form of bricks, etc.

The flats are the result of massive evaporated prehistoric lakes. The region is now a center for salt extraction and processing, with an estimate output of almost 20,000 tons. In addition to the salt, there are large lithium deposits below beneath the surface. These commodities, along with tourism, fuel a big part of Bolivia’s economy.

Stepping off the truck and into the endless expansion of a dry and white horizon was eerie. It seemed to go on forever in every direction. The skewed vantage points, open skies, and shadows made for some interesting shots. As the day progressed and the sun started to set, the landscape became utterly mesmerizing. Not only were there magical colors to behold, but they were mirrored by the earth below. It felt a bit like I was walking through a sunset...totally surreal. While the salts may have seemed like another popular tourist destination, they are completely worthwhile.

We made a stop at the Incahuasi (“The Home of the Inca” in quechua) which is the most famous island in the salt flats. It is located 100 kms away from Uyuni and it’s covered by thousand of millenary cacti that can reach up to 10 mt. in height.

Salar de Uyuni is unlike any place on earth, and will leave you feeling in awe of the incredible planet we call home.

We also stayed at the Hotel de Sal Luna Salada and it was the most gorgeous place I’ve ever stayed in.

Not only for the comfort, but because of the uniqueness of the experience sleeping in the middle of the Salt flats on a room which floors, walls and almost everything is made out of salt

The National Amtrak: Denver Food Incubators + Refugee woman rocking the industry

I recently went on assignment for The National, exploring one of the many food incubators that has popped up in last few years. They sent met to Comal Heritage Food Incubator, located in the RiNo’s new development, TAXI in Denver. Food incubators are enterprises dedicated to building equality and opportunities in the culinary industry for immigrants, people of color, and women.

Food as we know it in the US is rooted in vibrant flavours from around the world. Pizza, burritos, sushi, hot dogs, you name it: all adapted from foreign places. Yet, restaurant workers of color earn 56 percent less than their white counterparts. Even worse, women of color earn $4 less per hour than white men. As the beloved and late Anthony Bourdain said: “Our entire service economy—the restaurant business as we know it—in most American cities, would collapse overnight without Mexican workers.” The Food Incubator model was developed to address issues of inequality, help provide training/tools, and allow immigrants to share their talents by opening up their very own restaurants.

The Comal Heritage Food Incubator’s kitchen is run entirely by women. Many of these talented cooks have fled dangerous situations in places like Syria, El Salvador, and Mexico. The Focus Points Family Resource center is the non-profit behind coordinating the training and support for the program participants. The nonprofits draws candidates from some of the poorest areas of Denver. These women are educated in commercial food preparation and scaling their homestyle recipes for larger batches. Some Comal graduates have gone on to open their own catering companies, work in fine hotels, open up their own restaurants, and have even appeared on top chef.

Allowing immigrants to take pride in who they are and where they came from is powerful.

I am grateful for the opportunity to witness and work with these women. Having moved from Argentina to different places myself, I know how difficult it could be to adjust to a new culture. Seeing their food celebrated truly warms my heart, as it creates an outlet for people to associate people from other backgrounds in a positive way. So many women and immigrants give up everything they have to seek asylum in the US. I am proud of all the effort the Focus Points Family Resource Center has put in to create life-changing opportunities for these people.

If you are in the Denver Area, and find yourself needing a weekday lunch option, look no further than the Comal.

Not only will you enjoy a freshly prepared daily dish, but you might even find yourself enjoying a cup of Mate with a lovely lady from Lebanon. Sitting and speaking with this woman gave me such an appreciation for the resilient nature of the human spirit, and reminded me we all so much more in common than we think.

To read the full article go HERE