This guy calls me up & convinces me to leave my house on a Friday night. This is super rare because this is my favorite introvert night of the week. It’s practically sacred. But I said ok- it was almost like I was getting revenge on my loneliness.
It’s nearly Cinco De Mayo so downtown is lively & we end up at Cinnabar. It was filled with sharks fans, teal & black. I am horrified as I realize I am wearing teal & black. I have entered something I didn’t sign up for.
A man draws his legs between mine, constantly touching me closer, touching my thighs… I don’t even notice. I literally brush it off like a mosquito trying to land. Sensation registers, but something essential is missing. I have a compliment from this man, another from that man, another from that whose words trail after me to the bathroom & his eyes bear down the door long after that. I lock myself in hoping pupils aren’t laser beams & believing that comic books are lies- Superman does not exist so I am safe in here. That’s the bullshit I tell myself when I’m a shot of vodka & one & a half blue moons into a Friday nite.
As I walk out a skinny very good looking mod hipster shakes my hand “I’m Will.” He smiles. “What’s your name, Doll?” I miss being called Doll. I miss it so bad I wonder if I should just give him my card on the spot which I never do. But another man stares me down & grabs my waist & my gut and mind are left suspended over the pool table & I am off on a walking adventure.
“Now that you are full of alcohol, what would you like to do”? Id like to curl up in a hermit crab shell and be safe I think, thank you very much. I’d like to hide in that pool table pocket until 3am when the people have gone home & the cops have finally arrested every last Mexico Flagged vehicle on S. First Street.
I sigh.
I link arms & I say “I need to walk or eat”.
Why not? It's a Friday night- I really should play along. Let’s be honest, it’s that or a DUI. I think San Jose cops get paid commission per ticket the week of Cinco De Mayo.
I’m quickly cold, quickly annoyed that I must exchange sexual innuendo for bodily warmth. Where is my shell? Is it hiding in the gutter drain? Is it hiding in a burrito?
I pass Azucar. They’re playing banta. I stare at the awkward steps which don’t speak to courtship as much to a certain determination to prove something.
“Yes, this is the step. Yes, I dance like THIS.”
No you don’t, I want to say.
I am curious about their drive to prove something, but I don’t think tonight’s THAT night to ask questions. I don’t really understand why people celebrate Cinco de Mayo in America & for that reason, it’s usually best to just shut up until I can go home & google or phone a friend. In each step I see people trying to be something they’re not for someone else who’s not in the room. I see stern bouncers protecting something that looks & sounds silly but sacred.
Greek dances are silly too. Celtic riverdance take the cake. I’m not even sure the Norwegians dance. I am hodgepodge of territories screaming from one side of my blue veins to the other side of the red ones.
Maybe that’s why people dance the way they do at clubs here- just rub up against each other- get to the point. Someone has work in the morning.
“Everything ok?” he asks. He doesn’t really want to know. I sigh. I’ve done it again- lost in thoughts that I need to dumb down.
“I’m freezing. My body feels so cold!!!”
“Awh, you fragile thing”. If only he knew.
“Let’s just eat something” I say, dodging.
So we eat quesadillas. I don’t give a shit about any of it. Even though his legs are directly against mine & I feel that he is trying to be good & control the uncontrollable, I am his gate keeper. He thinks he holds the control but I know better. I just happen to not give a shit. Game over dude, sorry. Apathy wins again.
He walks me to my truck despite my best maneuvering abilities, mostly because there is a sea of fat people waiting to pay their parking tickets. I don’t know what it is about the really obese- especially about several of them waiting to pay parking tickets.
I can tell he wants me. I know at least 3 other guys want to screw me tonight too. It’s comical that they think something so intimate is detachable- lies. All I feel is the cold air & I want to go home to my hermit shell & take my apathy where it doesn’t affect others.
When your heart has found the other half of its heartbeat it’s hard to convince it otherwise. I’m too old to lie to myself- too tired of swimming upstream.
Perhaps happiness is paid for with the purgatory of the doldrums.
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Saturday, June 11, 2011
Pink
I hear it shatter & its smell slams against my nose standing in the long bathroom line before I see it:
A broken bottle of bright pink opi nail polish on the bathroom floor
The door opens to me & I feel like I’ve won the golden ticket.
Apologies spill out of the stall, heels tiptoe around neon glass.
I stare & stare & stare at the bright pink gloss splattered over microbes, dirt, bacteria, tile, urine.
Beautiful.
I don’t want to leave the stall. I stay longer than I should- there’s an understanding about how long a girl can stay in a public stall if she’s not changing clothes.
I want to take the floor with me but it’s not mine.
I unlatch the lock & give the next gal in the bathroom line a giant smile.
She wrinkles her nose at the pungent smell, then her eyebrows wrinkle at me.
I smile again. “Look!”
I hope she sees. I hope I’m not the only one- it’s lonely.
I close my eyes to freeze time. This is the smell. This is pink.
A broken bottle of bright pink opi nail polish on the bathroom floor
The door opens to me & I feel like I’ve won the golden ticket.
Apologies spill out of the stall, heels tiptoe around neon glass.
I stare & stare & stare at the bright pink gloss splattered over microbes, dirt, bacteria, tile, urine.
Beautiful.
I don’t want to leave the stall. I stay longer than I should- there’s an understanding about how long a girl can stay in a public stall if she’s not changing clothes.
I want to take the floor with me but it’s not mine.
I unlatch the lock & give the next gal in the bathroom line a giant smile.
She wrinkles her nose at the pungent smell, then her eyebrows wrinkle at me.
I smile again. “Look!”
I hope she sees. I hope I’m not the only one- it’s lonely.
I close my eyes to freeze time. This is the smell. This is pink.
Monday, August 24, 2009
Art & Social Justice- a re-cap of my talk at KALEID's Two Buck Tuesday
In case you missed it...
This was my second year traveling to Haiti, the poorest country in the Western Hemisphere located in the Caribbean right off the coast of Florida. Hispaniola- or what is now Haiti & the Dominican Republic, was what Columbus "discovered" in 1492. He claimed the land for Spain but French pirates started buccaneering in Tortuga (part of Haiti) and it wasn't long before King Louis XIV colonized it for France. The French West India Company set up what is now Cap Haitian and brought over slaves. Haiti's most successful export has always been sugar and what comes from it- rum. Inspired by the revolution in France, the Haitian slaves revolted and, when Napoleon withdrew all his forces from the Western Hemisphere & signed the Louisiana Purchase, they became the only slave-liberated nation and the world's oldest black republic.
What I've observed from all their subsequent upheaval is that there has been no real healing and so even though they are "free", they still allow influences into their lives that tell them what to do- influences like dictators & bad government, voodoo and messages of fear stemming from poverty. We contribute to these messages by telling them things like "you can't do it on your own, you need our help". The UN gets $1 million dollars a day in aid from the rest of the world to stay in Haiti, earning money off the poverty of the Haitians and they do absolutely nothing. They hand out candy to kids and drink with the witchdoctors while having their "fortunes" read. The people of Haiti are bright thinkers and entrepreneurs who need more empowering opportunities for trade instead of unhelpful aid handouts.
I have visited Haiti for the last two years and stayed at a nutrition center called UCI. The center was started by a missionary couple (one native Haitian, one America) who came back to Bohoc to start a school. As they walked around their neighborhood, wondering where to start, they saw a group of kids- three sets of twins- eating ashes from the fire in hopes that they could find some fat drippings from their mother's cooking. The couple’s hearts broke and they realized before they could educate the town, they needed to first feed them. They started a nutrition center which feeds extremely malnourished kids. When I was there I was struck by the kindness, joy and love of these children as they shared their only bowl of food with their siblings and parents.
In addition to food distribution, I created a mural last year in a local church. While working I met a group from the local boys art club. They asked me to critique their work which turned into a discussion of how to market their art to tourists. I asked them to help me finish the mural and left spaces for them to insert their own unique voices. I kept in touch with many of these boys- some emailed me every week over the last year, forming friendships. When I returned this year, it was with the goal of pouring into these boys. I taught 1-3 art classes a day teaching them the fundamentals as well as organizing outdoor still life & landscape sessions. Before I left I met Ema Harris Sintanmarian's adopted father who has been going to Haiti for the last 40 years (it just gets under your skin!). I was very worried about what to teach and feeling inadequate & he gave me some very good advice- most of their art education is from copying other trade artists as there are no museums or galleries really outside of Port Au Prince. Many of the artists still are influenced by the French impressionism with large idyllic landscapes & very small people. He told me the very best thing I could contribute is to teach them my own voice, style & the fundamentals. I felt like this was a very fateful meeting and one of the many perks this summer of moving my studio to the Citadel.
Taking this advice, I also organized 5 murals this summer in the poorest of the poor schools. I painted one with a few boys who worked with me last year, two from the local, very corrupt & impoverished orphanage. When the translator left, we could not speak the same language well, but we discovered we knew many of the same American gospel & hip-hop songs. So we communicated through song and finished a 20 foot mural in only 8 hours! I'm telling you, I could not create something that fast with Americans who spoke the same language! These boys work hard and are committed to learning everything they can. The hard work they put into creating and selling their art as trade artists means food for their families, tuition money & medicine for sick family members. By helping them learn the basics of art, I am empowering them to dream, to become better entrepreneurs & to get themselves out of their circumstances. They in return have taught me so much about redemption, simplicity, thankfulness & re-birth.
One last story I'll share is about the first day I was there this summer. I was teaching an art class & a mid-wife came by with a brand new baby- right out of the womb! She heard there was a visiting artist in town & as a sign of honor brought the baby to me. As I held him, she told me his story- his mother is mentally ill (they obviously have no money for mental institutions, psychiatric drugs, etc) and some of the men of the village had been taking advantage of her. She became pregnant and the mid-wife was taking this little baby to the orphanage. I asked, "what is his name". & do you know what she said? "He doesn't have one, would you like to name him?" I totally floored! Name a baby? What on earth do you name someone that will have this name for the rest of their life? Very different than naming a fictional character or an art piece! I thought about it and finally decided to call him "Dieu Bon Andre". "Dieu Bon" means "God is good" and "Andre" translates to "Andrew" after my father. This baby had the worst possible beginning and I wanted him to have a name that would redeem him and set him up for good things. As it happens, there is a happy ending, or rather, beginning. A few days later, the mother's sister heard the story and adopted little Dieu Bon! I was so moved to hear this!
So yes, I think the art I'm creating and my trips to Haiti are intersecting with social justice. I think it’s unfair that I have access to clean water, a variety of food choices, and shoes that fit and other people in this world don't. I think artists have a great power to connect with other artists in ways that people who go to 3rd world countries to form hospitals or feeding centers cannot. We have the capacity to tell great stories, to see beauty & hope hidden in ugly situations, and to inspire the rest of the world to act. What I'm doing is valuable, not only because it brings hope & skills to others, but because its making me a better person. My art is becoming about something bigger- it is not just a self-centered activity but can bring about universal justice & truth. I think every artist needs to go get an existential education that allows them to get to know our neighbors in this globalized world. Not only does it help us become better at loving, but it also helps widens our view of the world, makes us very grateful for what we have (rather than stuck in the patterns of post-modernism that simply "opposes" well, everything or the misery & angst of suburban consumerism), and opens us up to explore new methods of expression.
There are a few hopeful next steps. I'd like to take a team of artists over to Haiti for 1-2 weeks. It also my hope to be able to return for somewhere between 1-6 months and create art there as a sort of residency to tell the stories for the people of Haiti who are virtually the "voiceless ones" because of poverty & injustice. It would be nice to continue teaching those boys & perhaps form a mural team with them and bring them to the States for commissions.
At Two Buck Tuesday many of the artists were moved to want to donate art supplies to the boys and learn more about how to purchase their very inexpensive art. I've started an email list for that &, well, we will see where it goes! There's so much innovation & creativity in this valley and I'd love to see that applied towards justice.
This was my second year traveling to Haiti, the poorest country in the Western Hemisphere located in the Caribbean right off the coast of Florida. Hispaniola- or what is now Haiti & the Dominican Republic, was what Columbus "discovered" in 1492. He claimed the land for Spain but French pirates started buccaneering in Tortuga (part of Haiti) and it wasn't long before King Louis XIV colonized it for France. The French West India Company set up what is now Cap Haitian and brought over slaves. Haiti's most successful export has always been sugar and what comes from it- rum. Inspired by the revolution in France, the Haitian slaves revolted and, when Napoleon withdrew all his forces from the Western Hemisphere & signed the Louisiana Purchase, they became the only slave-liberated nation and the world's oldest black republic.
What I've observed from all their subsequent upheaval is that there has been no real healing and so even though they are "free", they still allow influences into their lives that tell them what to do- influences like dictators & bad government, voodoo and messages of fear stemming from poverty. We contribute to these messages by telling them things like "you can't do it on your own, you need our help". The UN gets $1 million dollars a day in aid from the rest of the world to stay in Haiti, earning money off the poverty of the Haitians and they do absolutely nothing. They hand out candy to kids and drink with the witchdoctors while having their "fortunes" read. The people of Haiti are bright thinkers and entrepreneurs who need more empowering opportunities for trade instead of unhelpful aid handouts.
I have visited Haiti for the last two years and stayed at a nutrition center called UCI. The center was started by a missionary couple (one native Haitian, one America) who came back to Bohoc to start a school. As they walked around their neighborhood, wondering where to start, they saw a group of kids- three sets of twins- eating ashes from the fire in hopes that they could find some fat drippings from their mother's cooking. The couple’s hearts broke and they realized before they could educate the town, they needed to first feed them. They started a nutrition center which feeds extremely malnourished kids. When I was there I was struck by the kindness, joy and love of these children as they shared their only bowl of food with their siblings and parents.
In addition to food distribution, I created a mural last year in a local church. While working I met a group from the local boys art club. They asked me to critique their work which turned into a discussion of how to market their art to tourists. I asked them to help me finish the mural and left spaces for them to insert their own unique voices. I kept in touch with many of these boys- some emailed me every week over the last year, forming friendships. When I returned this year, it was with the goal of pouring into these boys. I taught 1-3 art classes a day teaching them the fundamentals as well as organizing outdoor still life & landscape sessions. Before I left I met Ema Harris Sintanmarian's adopted father who has been going to Haiti for the last 40 years (it just gets under your skin!). I was very worried about what to teach and feeling inadequate & he gave me some very good advice- most of their art education is from copying other trade artists as there are no museums or galleries really outside of Port Au Prince. Many of the artists still are influenced by the French impressionism with large idyllic landscapes & very small people. He told me the very best thing I could contribute is to teach them my own voice, style & the fundamentals. I felt like this was a very fateful meeting and one of the many perks this summer of moving my studio to the Citadel.
Taking this advice, I also organized 5 murals this summer in the poorest of the poor schools. I painted one with a few boys who worked with me last year, two from the local, very corrupt & impoverished orphanage. When the translator left, we could not speak the same language well, but we discovered we knew many of the same American gospel & hip-hop songs. So we communicated through song and finished a 20 foot mural in only 8 hours! I'm telling you, I could not create something that fast with Americans who spoke the same language! These boys work hard and are committed to learning everything they can. The hard work they put into creating and selling their art as trade artists means food for their families, tuition money & medicine for sick family members. By helping them learn the basics of art, I am empowering them to dream, to become better entrepreneurs & to get themselves out of their circumstances. They in return have taught me so much about redemption, simplicity, thankfulness & re-birth.
One last story I'll share is about the first day I was there this summer. I was teaching an art class & a mid-wife came by with a brand new baby- right out of the womb! She heard there was a visiting artist in town & as a sign of honor brought the baby to me. As I held him, she told me his story- his mother is mentally ill (they obviously have no money for mental institutions, psychiatric drugs, etc) and some of the men of the village had been taking advantage of her. She became pregnant and the mid-wife was taking this little baby to the orphanage. I asked, "what is his name". & do you know what she said? "He doesn't have one, would you like to name him?" I totally floored! Name a baby? What on earth do you name someone that will have this name for the rest of their life? Very different than naming a fictional character or an art piece! I thought about it and finally decided to call him "Dieu Bon Andre". "Dieu Bon" means "God is good" and "Andre" translates to "Andrew" after my father. This baby had the worst possible beginning and I wanted him to have a name that would redeem him and set him up for good things. As it happens, there is a happy ending, or rather, beginning. A few days later, the mother's sister heard the story and adopted little Dieu Bon! I was so moved to hear this!
So yes, I think the art I'm creating and my trips to Haiti are intersecting with social justice. I think it’s unfair that I have access to clean water, a variety of food choices, and shoes that fit and other people in this world don't. I think artists have a great power to connect with other artists in ways that people who go to 3rd world countries to form hospitals or feeding centers cannot. We have the capacity to tell great stories, to see beauty & hope hidden in ugly situations, and to inspire the rest of the world to act. What I'm doing is valuable, not only because it brings hope & skills to others, but because its making me a better person. My art is becoming about something bigger- it is not just a self-centered activity but can bring about universal justice & truth. I think every artist needs to go get an existential education that allows them to get to know our neighbors in this globalized world. Not only does it help us become better at loving, but it also helps widens our view of the world, makes us very grateful for what we have (rather than stuck in the patterns of post-modernism that simply "opposes" well, everything or the misery & angst of suburban consumerism), and opens us up to explore new methods of expression.
There are a few hopeful next steps. I'd like to take a team of artists over to Haiti for 1-2 weeks. It also my hope to be able to return for somewhere between 1-6 months and create art there as a sort of residency to tell the stories for the people of Haiti who are virtually the "voiceless ones" because of poverty & injustice. It would be nice to continue teaching those boys & perhaps form a mural team with them and bring them to the States for commissions.
At Two Buck Tuesday many of the artists were moved to want to donate art supplies to the boys and learn more about how to purchase their very inexpensive art. I've started an email list for that &, well, we will see where it goes! There's so much innovation & creativity in this valley and I'd love to see that applied towards justice.
Thursday, July 23, 2009
The mural
20ft. in 8 hrs.! I hereby "hire" these boys for all future mural commissions!
Mural I made in the poorest of the poor schools (very very dirty- those are footprints on the wall! Hoping it will get painted white around the mural, like we started.) No projector, no ladder. This was created the old fashioned way- free handed a shape and found the tallest guys around!
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
The three little pigs would be proud
Houses in Haiti on our food distribution walk.
"The little hurricane came along and said, 'Let me in, or I'll huff and I'll puff and I'll BLOW your house down!"
Straw (palm fronds)
This one had a fire going in it- cooking up dinner!
Wood
Brick (Limestone- the house we helped build for Zouel)
Fun Fact: Houses in Haiti get to be up to 300 sq ft! That's half my art studio or about the size of my living room... yup.
"The little hurricane came along and said, 'Let me in, or I'll huff and I'll puff and I'll BLOW your house down!"
Straw (palm fronds)
This one had a fire going in it- cooking up dinner!
Wood
Brick (Limestone- the house we helped build for Zouel)Fun Fact: Houses in Haiti get to be up to 300 sq ft! That's half my art studio or about the size of my living room... yup.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Hallelujah
By Wendjor (one of my students & mural helpers from this & last year known for his truthful capturing of the Haitian experience. Check out the community, the poverty, & the "Haitian Dream"- to work, eat & love.)
"I've told the truth, I didn't come to fool you
And even though
It all went wrong
I'll stand before the Lord of Song
With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah"
-Leonard Cohen
Monday, July 20, 2009
Some pictures from Haiti
Here are some very random pictures from my Haiti trip. More to come elsewhere!
Me holding a baby goat that wandered in to check out us making a mural!
Me with Jislyn & Jislen at a sugar cane factory on one of our food distribution walks.
I was asked, as the visiting artist, to name this baby. His mother was mental insane and some of the men had taken advantage of that and got her pregnant. This baby was on the way to the orphanage. I named him "Dieu Bon" or "God is Good". Wanted him to have a good start. A few days later his aunt decided to take him in. God IS good!
On a food distribution walk with the twins, Jislen & Jislyn who inspired the nutrition center- these kids were found by the Mompremiers eating ashes out of the fire. Look how big & strong they're getting! =)
Me holding a weak, malnurioushed munchkin during VBS games. Her 5 year old sister was responsible to take care of her and change her. We got her some shoes that fit.
Soccer or "Football" is a big deal in Haiti. While we were there the US played Haiti in "football" and we tied! So we had a special game on the Mompremiers field the next day. Wilnot, Jislen, Me, Evens (& random kid behind me). Wilnot & Evens were friends from last year.
Me holding a baby goat that wandered in to check out us making a mural!
Me with Jislyn & Jislen at a sugar cane factory on one of our food distribution walks.
I was asked, as the visiting artist, to name this baby. His mother was mental insane and some of the men had taken advantage of that and got her pregnant. This baby was on the way to the orphanage. I named him "Dieu Bon" or "God is Good". Wanted him to have a good start. A few days later his aunt decided to take him in. God IS good!
On a food distribution walk with the twins, Jislen & Jislyn who inspired the nutrition center- these kids were found by the Mompremiers eating ashes out of the fire. Look how big & strong they're getting! =)
Me holding a weak, malnurioushed munchkin during VBS games. Her 5 year old sister was responsible to take care of her and change her. We got her some shoes that fit.
Soccer or "Football" is a big deal in Haiti. While we were there the US played Haiti in "football" and we tied! So we had a special game on the Mompremiers field the next day. Wilnot, Jislen, Me, Evens (& random kid behind me). Wilnot & Evens were friends from last year.
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