ZIGGY HEARD a small child’s laughter as he approached the next house on the river. A small boy was running through the yard, chasing a large blue butterfly that floated just out of his reach. The child ran dangerously near the bank of the river, which worried Ziggy, but then the youngster stopped short and amazingly, the butterfly stopped as well. The child turned and started running and this time, the butterfly followed. The chased became the chaser. The butterfly, as if teasing the boy, danced just barely in site overhead as the child ran as fast as he could.
“Leonardo, come, Mama wants to show you something.” The boy’s father stood at the back door beckoning to the child. Seeing the young man standing by the river’s edge, the father sent his greeting. “Äwana.” Ziggy answered back likewise. The father walked towards the young man as his child rushed by. Holding out his hand, he said “Humberto Tasso” in a heavy Italian accent with a Mapuche twist. “You are headed to the Corral, yes?” asking as if he already knew the answer.
“Yes, Senor. I want to see if it’s as powerful as they say,” Ziggy responded.
“Come, I will show you a picture of it I just painted, and you will get an idea of how powerful it really is.”
The father turned and entered his house and the young man followed close behind. The mother had finished washing and slicing a variety of fruits and vegetables she must have picked them from the large garden between the cabin and the river, placing them on a deep green silk cloth in the sink, she began pouring honey over them. The child was staring at an apple his mother had placed on the table with the same expression Ziggy had seen on the child’s face as he chased the butterfly … a look of pure loving admiration for things created. “Created by God,” the young man thought, and somehow, standing in the presence of this family, he felt closer to God, closer to his faith, closer to his own newly found true love.
“This is Alexia, Leonardo’s mother and my wife.” Ziggy could see the small boy had inherited his angelic looks from this lovely lady. Alexia smiled and came forward to kiss the young man on the cheek. “I am Ziggy,” he said, as he thought how nice it was to no longer feel pain over not having a mother, himself.
“She is the inspiration for many of the ladies you see in the paintings hanging throughout the house.” The young man noticed a large one hanging on the wall just behind her shoulder. He laughed as he noticed that in the center of this very powerful, ancient Greek inspired painting was a green Volkswagen bug. His father often said that driving a V.W. was flat out admitting to being a “hippie.” He owned three.
“All of my paintings are done with a base made from crushed volcanic rock taken directly from pieces of the ruins of the Corral De Aqua.”
Ziggy thought being surrounded by the beautiful paintings throughout the house was like being in a museum of the masters.
“I started painting as a young man about your age here in Chile. I moved to Italy and there I studied under the greatest painters I could find...
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