Intersections

Everyone is everything: On gaps in media and modern thinking

Friends, my latest commentary for NPR's "All Things Considered" ran today. It addresses the question of whether "Latino" "tensions" and "unease" with "blacks" will prevent "Latinos" from voting for "the black candidate," Barack Obama, in the 2008 Democratic presidential primary season. Please listen here.

A bunch of those terms up there are in quotes because, damnit, the more I listen to the mainstream press in this campaign, the less I become sure that I am a breathing person created by the particular astral forces in play at the moment of my birth, my upbringing, and whatever free choices I've made as a sentient adult. Instead, if you listen to the papers, I'm being led to believe that because I'm Mexican American I am just a replicant, an amalgamation of whatever polls, statistics, and assumed truths that reporters, politicians, pundits, and fat-cat non-profit gurus digest and re-ingest as modern gospel.

Right now the ridiculous and dangerous "conventional wisdom" being fomented by the press is that Latinos won't vote for Obama because he has dark skin (In sentence form, doesn't that idea sound just absolutely absurd?). NPR reporter Mandalit del Barco tackled this subject a few days ago and found some interesting analysis. See also the well-supported writing of Gregory Rodriguez and Roberto Lovato for more.

In my perspective, I don't propose a blind denial of race or its force in American life. What I've been trying to express is an exasperation with the amount of undue consequence we give to an ephemeral boogey-man that has already been proven, time and again, to be a flawed concept. In other words, I'm from the United States. In the country that I know, people who are committed to its principles know deep down that by now everyone is everything. What we do once we get past that baseline is the only thing that matters.

* Pictured above, Tai from Asian Americans for Obama.

* My previous NPR commentaries are found here, here, and here.

Clowns in the machine: The surprises of 'Schweiz Über Alles'

"Swiss Above All Others" is the English translation of the creepy title for the first exhibition of 2008 at La Colección Jumex, the contemporary art collection belonging to juice magnate Eugenio Lopez Alonso and said to be the largest private collection in Latin America. The gallery is located at the stark industrial Jumex plant on the northern outskirts of metropolitan Mexico City, and we were there Saturday night for the opening. The sparse but satisfying show, organized by Jumex curator Michel Blancsube, features mostly Swiss artists such Urs Fischer, Peter Fischli & David Weiss, Ugo Rondinone, Thomas Hirschhorn, and Pipilotti Rist.

Today, my feature piece on the show was published in The News, the city's recently revived English-language daily (and incidentally where I started my career). There's no Web version, though, so I'm going to reprint an excerpt below:

Perhaps the final surprise in "Schweiz Über Alles" is that the most commanding piece is not by a Swiss artist at all, but by a rising Mexican. The Jumex foundation commissioned a young Mexico City-trained artist known only as Moris for an installation he titled "Hermoso paisaje No. 5 (el baldio)."

The piece is tucked away upstairs, to the right of the collection’s private library. To take it in, the viewer must use a ladder and bedding to climb over a rough wooden wall topped with barb wire. You descend to the ground by stepping down several platforms made from crates. Along each platform is an array of found objects from the streets of the megacity. First tools, then small toys, then watches and rusty jewelry, then piles of used shoes, then bundles of the "red note" daily La Prensa, a local paper famous for delighting in the blood and gore of crime and accident scenes. On the floor, footprints from previous visitors are visible in a thick layer of dirt.

"The street is my laboratory," Moris told reporters last week. "I like to say it’s like entering into Hell, and returning with the evidence."

And below, an image from the Moris installation, taken during Thursday's press conference at the plant.

* Contact me if you would like to view the whole text to the piece.

Modern hipster extravagance in Mexico City *

 

Are the kids in the photo above the cutting edge of international cool, or adopting a derivative of scenester party style from L.A.-New York-London circa 2004? I don't want to make the call, because, honestly, they were really sweet and open in person -- like a lot of party kids here, and unlike a lot of party kids in L.A., New York, or London -- and they were really committed to the extravagance of their outfits. Isn't that all it really takes? Enthusiasm? Go for it! Own that a Nintendo controller as a necklace!

I took this shot at the Guns N Bombs show in Colonia Roma on Friday night. The boys from Sicario generously hosted it, and, yes indeed, it was a sloppy, epic party that went on way into the wee hours of the morning. A really happy, comprehensive event. I saw strangers making out, a fist fight, faintings, and so on. Guns N Bombs put the crowd in a rapture. Consider the evidence as documented by Mark "The Cobrasnake" Hunter. He was in town for the party, and he took two sets of shots in one night, found here and here. You'll see a bit of me in there, and a lot of my former Echo Park neighbor and Guns N Bombs manager Alexis Rivera.

Alllllllll in the name of research, friends.

* Previously in Intersections, my most viewed and searched post by an astonishing margin, "Cory Kennedy: Young, fashionable, famous, eating." * Photo deleted.

Living testimony from Tlatelolco, 1968

* Above: They survived the bullets, then were rounded up.

The contemporary art conference known as SITAC opens today at the Centro Cultural Universitario Tlatelolco, a facility recently inagurated by Mexico City's UNAM and housed in a breathtaking temple to Mexican modernism, the old Secretaria de Relaciones Exteriores at Tlatelolco. The former government complex has been converted beautifully to an arts and exhibition space.

What drew me there on Wednesday however was the new exhibit at CCUT dedicated to 1968, the year that marked worldwide political upheaval in the last century, and specifically to what happened at the nearby Plaza de las Tres Culturas on 2 October 1968: the repression of Mexico's student-led reform movement at the hands of the government and military. Untold numbers of unarmed demonstrators were injured, jailed, or slaughtered and disappeared.

The exhibit uses political graphics, photography, news media clippings, video testimony from survivors, and other footage to chart the build-up to Tlatelolco, including the global context of similar showdowns in the United States, Europe, South Africa, and elsewhere. Then it lays out the events and aftermath of 2 October 1968 in explicit detail. With the actual site of the massacre just steps away, the show is emotionally challenging on many levels. Here are a few images:

As far as I understand, the 1968 exhibit at CCUT is permanent. Admission is 20 pesos. * Previously, "Nada Paso: Contemporary responses to Tlatelolco, '68."

On insurgent electro France and the rise of the 'chav'

Still on a global detour here; the video above, for "Signature" by Paris-based DJ Mehdi, constitutes a glorious introduction to two major cultural trends currently emanating out of Western Europe, the electro scene in Paris, and "chav" culture from Britain.

Let's listen in, because all over the mainstream market of ideas, the pertinent question lately has been, "Is French culture really, finally, dead?" Maybe when it comes to composers, poets, novelists, or post-deconstructionists (I can't name a single one off the top of my head, either), but when it comes to finely chopped and cropped electronica, France is at the top of the global game.

And we're not referring to the bizarre really actually "new rave" dance phenomenon that is taking over the streets of Paris, "tektonic," although it is very fascinating. (Trust me. Look it up. You'll wind up watching for a while.) We're talking about the mixmasters. There's the almighty superhuman Daft Punk, of course, but the real up-from-the-sidewalks juice is coming from the crew at Ed Banger Records. That would include the now-ubiquitious DJ duo Justice, adored especially by an immense L.A. fan base, and also names like the youngish lady MC Uffie, and Mehdi (who makes a lovely romantic item with talented street artist Fafi). See also "I Am Somebody," another good Mehdi video, featuring the incomprable Chromeo -- who by the way are making their Mexico City debut for the MX Beat festival "warm-up gig" on February 14.

Then there are them chav kids, council housing toughs (that would be, "from the projects") with a taste for suped-up little cars, Burberry, and cheap jewelry. It's not new, it's just been identified, satirized, and Wiki-ed. See a somewhat intense academic analysis on the topic at ChavWorld, and, when you're ready, run out and get yourself an authentic chavette. ("No, but, yeah, but, no, but ...")

* Thanks Alexis, Valmiki, Mehammed.

Barack Obama at Ebenezer Baptist Church, Atlanta *

It's worth watching this video whole, and listening. Barack Obama crystallized his message so powerfully yesterday, it's difficult not to be even slightly moved by a political rhetoric of true reconciliation, the type I don't believe we have seen in generations. Nevermind that this is a presidential campaign, with all the backward thinking, dubious ambitions, and grossly despotic politicking that come with it. Listen here, particularly this passage, remarkable for being directed to an African American religious audience, and remarkable for coming from a senator who voted for "the wall" and who last year had felt okay sharing a stage with Donnie McClurkin:

We have scorned our gay brothers and sisters instead of embracing them. The scourge of anti-Semitism has, at times, revealed itself in our community. For too long, some of us have seen immigrants as competitors for jobs instead of companions in the fight for opportunity.

Is Obama actually ready? Is the country ready, capable, even willing? There's more to come, to be sure. Stay tuned. * Updated post.

Battle in Tijuana: A city 'burns' with narco violence

What the hell is happening in Tijuana? On Thursday military and police forces waged a three-hour Old West-style shootout with members of the Arellano Felix cartel who had holed up in a mansion in La Mesa, a middle-class neighborhood in central Tijuana where many of my relatives are from. One gunman was killed, and six kidnapping hostages were executed inside the house during the ordeal. Sounds like the narco men, desperate and vicious, murdered the ransom hostages just because they could. Two narco-tied police officials were among the suspects apprehended.

That night, my mother called from San Ysidro looking for me in Mexico City and left a message with the worried but calming voice that parents usually reserve for news that is sad and frightening. She said the city was "turning into Baghdad."

On Friday morning commuters in the Mexico City metro huddled around station newstands to read the screaming headlines: "Tijuana burns with killings," "War in Tijuana," "And now, even kindergartens." That last one referred to startling images of small schoolchildren in gray uniforms rushing away from the shootout, their little hands clasped over their ears. A preschool had been caught in the crossfire, signaling a new kind of low for the now-headless remnants of the Arellano Felix crew.

The low-grade civil warfare of the narco trade is climaxing in Mexico, in nearly every region of the country and across just about every demographic, children and popular musicians included. A domestic addiction epidemic is also becoming evident where one had not existed. The news is grim, day after day. El Universal reported Saturday that in the previous 24 hours 15 more people had been killed in narco-related violence in five states. And this morning, the Tijuana daily Frontera is reporting briefly that the delegational police chief in La Mesa was kidnapped on Saturday night.

Sucks for Tijuana, a city trying to enjoy its cultural and culinary renaissance. Now it seems my ancestral tierra is being defeated in spirit by a nationwide wild and bloody war -- between the government and the cartels, between the cartels themselves -- that claims many more victims than it does any readable successes or setbacks.

Links: San Diego Union-Tribune, Frontline, New York Times, AP, L.A. Times, Al Jazeera via Mexico Monitor, New York Times, El Universal, Frontera, New York Times Travel. * Image by Reuters.

Taggers' paradise: Abandoned building on Insurgentes

Here's a deserted high-rise on Insurgentes right in one of the most touristy, most commercial areas of the city. Notice how it's covered in graffiti. The throwups on the windows, assuming they're painted from the inside, would have required the taggers to paint each letter backwards. Interesting. Below are some close-ups.

Don't the pieces on the roof area remind you a little of that infamous production by Saber-Revok did on top of that abandoned tower in L.A.'s Koreatown a couple years ago? See the bottom of this post for a pic.

Time-travel to Mexico Cities past, in postcards

Take it from a life-long postcard collecter and sender, the modest little show currently on the second floor of the Museo de la Ciudad de Mexico, in a colonial building in Centro Historico betweeen Pino Suarez and Zocalo stations, is a fascinating portal into the life of the metropolis, told through postcards. Apologies for the quality of the images as I'm using a standard Sony Cyber-shot (You can see my reflection in some of them), but here is a sample of some of the postcards on display.

The portrait postcards that give you that Gilded Age decadence feel are the trippiest. Other interesting ones celebrate the 1968 Mexico City Olympics in Modernist colors and lines, or idolize past national heroes and presidents. (The museum provides magnifying glasses to examine the cards more closely.)

Phantom playgrounds and wild pets at Parque Lira

Parque Lira is a lovely, lush little park near metro Tacubaya, in my neighborhood. I go there for walks after lunch and in between sessions of writing, a nice place to clear the brain because it's quiet, forgotten, and pretty neglected. Lira houses a municipal pool and recreation center, a public library put in an old converted church, and Casa de la Bola. Most interesting are the jagged cobble walkways, the desolate fountains, the phantom playgrounds, and the packs of wild kitties and dogs that seem to rule its gardens with little attention paid to the humans who pass through, or who sit on a bench to make out with a lover. The overall effect is Paris in Decay.

In fact, Parque Lira actually reminds me of a little park I know in Paris, when I visited a few years ago, where I sat down once with a new somebody and shared really excellent Chinese take-out. But that's another story ...

El Chopo to Teotihuacan: Leopards ancient and recently alive

Here is a shot Nina Tahash took on our second visit to El Chopo, the punk goth hippie rasta emo ska hip-hop street market in Mexico City, near Buenavista station. Nina of course felt right at home.

At a stall run by an older, animal skin-obsessed artisan punk, Nina found an almost unbelievable hand-made shoulder bag built around a real, full-size armadillo shell. He also made the bag with leather, snake skin, alligator skin, leopard hide, and feathers. Below, Nina descending into the metro at Guerrero a few blocks from the market, with her new accessory.

And for a final touch of indulgence before returning to our regularly scheduled art-culture-politics blogging, here we are posing with an ancient leopard-snake bust in an off-limits archeological area we had "stumbled" into at the grand pre-Hispanic urban zone of Teotihuacan, just outside of Mexico City. We climbed the Pyramid of the Sun and felt "la energia." *

* More on that later. Reminder: all photos are thumbnails, click for larger views.

Hillary Clinton: Always, always a bad girl!

In honor of the suddenly interesting Democratic Party presidential primary season back home, here's a brilliant music video celebrating "strong women of the ages" by YouTube spoof electro-pop band Treble & Timbre. Chelsea Clinton makes the cut, her momma does not:

Tremble & Timbre are just one of the many characters created by L.A.-based indie comedians Michael Lucid and Amanda Barrett, known as Pretty Things. They also parody a TV newsmagazine interview journalist, a sexed-up prep school, "dudes," 90s ravers, and MTV's "Sweet Sixteen." Enjoy them all.

Previously, "Tell your momma about Obama!"

The suspicious sparkle in Oaxaca City: No ghosts, just ...

* Above, a very old-looking retablo image (check the all-seeing eye on the deity in the middle) near the altar at the baroque temple Santo Domingo, Ciudad de Oaxaca, Oax., Mexico.

In Oaxaca these days there is no sign that not too long ago the city was in a state of civil conflict between the state and federal government and the APPO. Nothing. No standing monument to the dead, no memorial to Brad Will. Not much ghost graffiti, minimal police presence, and not a protester in sight. What lessons were learned? What will history say? A two-day pass-through won't render much perspective, I know, but still, something about the place made me feel uneasy, distrustful.

Over the New Year's week Oaxaca City was pristine, sparkling, and filled with a lot of foreigners and tourists, primarily Americans. When foreigners and tourists in a Mexican city spot each other they often exchange a silly, suspicious look-over, a glance that vaguely expresses a sentiment of competition and mutual disdain, like, 'What are you doing here?' Curiously, many of the women tourists wear the indigenous huipil at a far greater proportion than actual indigenous or mestizo people, a fact that seems to register no irony among the younger tourists who move in dorky packs of ten or twelve and gather at the only club that's open on a weeknight in the dead-except-for-tourists Centro Historico, Freebar, to dance wildly to bad remixes of Eminem and Shania Twain.

Suffocating, we returned to Mexico City desperate for the noxious smog, the noise, the traffic, the familiar, unfiltered contradictions of extreme poverty butting against extreme wealth, the pulse. Anything to get away from that college kid from New England in a highly self-aware leather jacket who proudly announced under the pulsating Freebar disco lights: "I'm here shooting poverty. I'm shooting a family a few villages from here that's living in poverty."