Saudade

Yesterday, I launched myself into the crowds of people milling around at the eighth edition of Recife’s annual Fennearte – Feira Nacional de Negócios do Artesanato. While walking through the corridors admiring carved paintings from Olinda, clay dolls and domestic scenes from Caruaru, woodcuts from Bezerros, elaborate saints sculpted from clay from Tracunhaém and from wood from Piauí, and lace and embroidery from Ceará among the hundreds of stalls and products, it hit me: I had saudade. I haven’t even left Brazil yet, but yet I already missed it. I missed the creativity and imagination of the artists and artisans. I missed the inventiveness of a people who had been given little in life. I missed the simple - yet deeply symbolic - ideas behind a nation’s arts and crafts. I missed the whimsical. I missed the joy of celebration that one finds at every turn. I wanted to grasp it all in my hands and bring it home with me. I wanted to dance through the aisles to the clanging of a cowbell. I wanted to capture the moment and bottle it up, to be able to open it and breathe it in when needed.

As the hours wore on, the Fair filled up and became crowded and increasingly difficult to navigate; the feeling was lost. But as I left, my three – yes, in the end I did manage restraint – purchases tucked safely under my arm, I knew that the feeling had existed and that I had managed to bottle its essence, ready to release it whenever necessary.