There is a gallery in Zacatectas where many paintings by the artist Francisco Goitia hang.
The gardens that surround the museum are beautiful. The building that houses the artwork is magnificent, but what touched my soul were the paintings of Francisco Goitia.
Goitia, born of wealth and privilege in Frensillo Zacatectas in 1882, began his art studies in Mexico City. During the dictatorship of Portifino Diaz he received a scholarship that made it possible for him to continue his studies in Europe.
When the Mexican revolution broke out he lost his scholarship and had to return to Mexico. At the beginning of the revolution Goitia was not political. However, when he returned to Mexico he joined Pancho Villa's army and began painting the events of the revolution.
He became political and for the rest of his life would paint the stories of suffering, humanity, dignity and beauty of the common people.
The people I have met here in Mexico tell me that although they are geographically North American they are in culture and spirit Latin American. I don't know, but I wonder, is it through their suffering that the people of this country find the beauty beneath?
I sat, surrounded by Goitia's work, the story the art told was a story of misery, pain and suffering, and yet so very beautiful I felt a passion I do not recall ever feeling before.
I love this country, its people, its art, its history, its culture.