Showing posts with label mass media. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mass media. Show all posts

Tuesday, November 13, 2012

Negative pedo. USC Centro. Banned Books Update. On-Line Floricanto

Movimiento Veteranos Resolve Negative Pedo

Michael Sedano

Update! • Late Monday, La Bloga received this email from Joe Razo:
As a previous editor of La Raza Publications which included La Raza Newspaper and Magazine plus Chicano Student Newspaper, Raul Ruiz and I met this morning and cleared our misunderstanding of facts. We are in accord and stand united as La Raza and El Barrio Communication Project Staff. The photographers mentioned in the prior letter also are in accord and will soon meet with me to claim ownership of their negatives. We hope that this valuable history of our movement will soon be accessible to educators, researchers, and the community.


Long-simmering tensions boiled over last week between a who’s who of movimiento photojournalists seeking access to historic photographic negatives. When LatinoLA published Luis C. Garza's Open Letter pointed at Raúl Ruiz, settlement quickly ensued.

The pedo arises from Ruiz’ apparent refusal to return to the photographers negatives of fotos published in La Raza newspaper and magazine. La Raza stands as paper of record for the chicano movement. It  published in Los Angeles from 1967 until it folded in the early 1980s, with Ruiz its closing editor.

Pitted against Ruiz are a dozen contributing photographers--former staffers--who want their images back. The collective of aggrieved photogs includes such notables as USC J-school profe Felix Gutiérrez, media magnate Moctezuma Esparza, and celebrated photographer Oscar Castillo.

Such negatives are cultural treasures. Through their prints today’s readers can witness only once removed the only extant participant observer images of pivotal moments in U.S. history. It was the incarnation of a political awakening that has grown into today’s electoral landslide for Obama. This is important material.

Here are the street level frames taken by students in high school student walk-outs, marchers with the Brown Berets, and Catolicos por La Raza giving the archbishopric hell. Garza's Open Letter claims the trove to be “likely the largest collection of photographic documentation produced of the Chicano urban movement in the United States.”

Negatives hold not only an image of a moment but also, to the photographer, something of personal importance. Given access to one’s old negatives opens those images to modern tools and materials, permit one to re-imagine an expression for today. There is no way to express the personal pain from loss of one’s youthful work, nor measure the regret for what might be done to make new prints using today’s abilities. Abelardo alludes to something similar, one thousand masterpieces hanging only from his mind.

In many ways, this negative pedo stands in sad epitaph for the chicano movement pictured in those negatives. La Raza newspaper and magazine, according to the artists, represented a collective effort of grass roots gente enfrentando the establishment for la gente.
Detail, O'Gorman, Castillo de Chapultepec, Mexico DF, 

Back then compañeras compañeros didn’t sign waivers and declare their rights, and all that establishment crap. It was la causa, and their burgeoning skills and a la brava energy got the work produced.

Now matured and seasoned, some may have strayed from that idealism, vencido, perhaps.

Ruiz enjoys a solid reputation as a scholar and has the lasting gratitude of history for being in the right place at the right time with his lens when that Sheriff Deputy fired his tear-gas gun into the Silver Dollar. Ruiz' lens told the truth, so it must hurt to be seen as a sin vergüenza, or worse, over these missing negatives.

I do not know Ruiz' motive. The foregoing summarizes the feelings of twelve photographers named in Luis C. Garza’s “Open Letter to all concerned,” published November 10 at the popular LatinoLA. I include the full text, below. Ruiz did not reply to La Bloga’s inquiry via email, so I can draw no firm conclusions but like any pedo, it stinks.

See the Update at the top of this column. Ruiz' actions Monday now put the pedo in the past. It's good to see matters righted and the negatives headed home. La Bloga will update the conclusion of the agreement.

Here’s the Open Letter La Bloga has via email from Luis C. Garza. Leave a Comment below to share your views on ownership of the fruits of collective labor, these events, documenting the movimiento:

Chicano Movement Photographic Negatives

Open Letter to all concerned
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Contact: Luis C. Garza

We write to inform you of an extraordinary community resource of photo archives containing thousands of photographic negatives and related document materials, which cover the Chicano movement and community from the late l960s through the l970s. Yet this invaluable archive is unavailable to either the photographers who created these materials and hold legal copyright, or to the large number of scholars, community organizations, filmmakers and others who have attempted to access this resource over the past forty years.

Why? Raul Ruiz, a Chicano Studies Professor at Cal State Northridge, and also at Santa Monica Community College, took physical possession of these archives as a co-editor of La Raza magazine, when former editors Eliezer Risco, and then Joe Razo passed the responsibility on to his safekeeping in 1971, for temporary custody (not ownership). Since the demise of the magazine, in early 1980s, he has refused all requests to return the negatives to the photographers who created them or to make these materials available to these photographers, researchers or the community.

We are writing to alert you to the theft of this Intellectual Property, explain the development of this problem, and to make clear our commitment to have the negatives returned to the photographers who hold the legal rights, and to finally make this resource available to the broader community through a university archive.

Under the auspices of the publications, Chicano Student Movement and La Raza magazine (newspaper and then magazine), an archive of photographs and written materials were compiled between 1967 and mid-1970s. This work reflects the efforts of magazine staff members and primarily that of twelve photographers who documented the civil rights struggle of the Chicano movement in the city of Los Angeles, Southern California, and the southwest United States. Our collective work is contained in this LA RAZA archive and is likely the largest collection of photographic documentation produced of the Chicano urban movement in the United States.

PROFESSIONAL CONDUCT QUESTIONED

ACCESS DENIED!

These publications and the related photographic archive were started as a grass roots community endeavor and not for the enhancement of a single individual’s career. Raul Ruiz’ appropriation of this material is a tremendous disappointment to all of us who know him, and certainly does not live up to the ideals within the Chicano Movement that we fought for. We did not struggle to replace an oppressive and inequitable system with another one controlled by a brown face. Raul’s actions are incongruous with, and contradictory to what he is supposed to stand for as a Chicano Studies Professor and have significantly damaged the cause of the Chicano Movement and the communities that it serves.

We intend to challenge this problem in two ways:
• Generate community support to pressure for the negatives’ release to their rightful owners via a Los Angeles University archive, where materials will be available for public access.
• Work through all legal means to obtain rightful possession of the negatives.

LA RAZA staff-photographers: (partial list)

Pedro Arias Manuel Barrera Patricia Borjon Oscar Castillo Moctezuma Esparza Luis Garza
Felix Gutierrez Fred Lopez Ruth Robinson Rivera Devra Weber Eliezer Risco~Editor 1967-1970
Joe Razo~Editor 1967-1971

La Raza photographic archived events: (partial list 1967-1978)
• East Los Angeles high school student walkouts
• Board of Education Los Angeles educational issues
• Board of Supervisors Los Angeles mental & health facility demonstrations
• Chicano Moratorium demonstrations against Vietnam War
• August 29, 1970 anti-war rally; murder of LAT journalist Ruben Salazar
• Brown Beret demonstrations
• Catolicos Por La Raza, Saint Basil Church demonstrations
• Police brutality and local/regional/national incarceration issues
• Political suppression, reapportionment & representation
• Teatro Campesino and UFW Farm Movement
• Mexican-American stereotypes, and its negative media overload
• La Raza Unida political party origins, influence and impact
• Corky Gonzalez-Crusade For Justice, Colorado
• Reies Lopez Tijerina- Land Grants, New Mexico

How to Comment on This Open Letter

Google's blogger software--that's what makes La Bloga look like this--makes adding your views on issues like artist intellectual property and ownership somewhat easy.

1. Scroll to the bottom of this post, below the biographies of On-Line Floricanto poets. If someone's already begun a conversation, the space resembles the image below. Click the pencil. To email the column, click the envelope.

2. If no one's joined in yet, the bottom of the post looks like this:
3. Click on "Post a Comment".

4. Stay in touch. When you're at the Comment screen, click the "Email follow-up comments to" box. La Bloga notifies you when someone's left a follow-up comment.




El Centro Chicano at USC Celebrates 40 Years


I arrived on the USC campus for grad school in 1972, with some trepidation. I figured I'd once again be the only Chicano in sight. Wrong.

Living in LA since exiting the Army in 1970, I elected to exit the world of work into full time grad school. The GI Bill covered tuition and fees--twelve units at $75 a hit.

That first year of grad school coincided with the first year of El Centro Chicano. Frank Sifuentes QEPD engaged recruiters who brought 110 raza students to USC. That such an organization would exist countermanded the popular stereotype of USC’s insular exclusivity.

Over the next couple years I would photograph centro activities, usually on Daily Trojan assignment. I especially looked forward to the frequent tardeadas, which meant free food and the laughter of the serving line.

I recently learned that, being I was an older vato--and one who always had a camera pointed at them--the youngsters thought me a narc. That explains why the women wouldn't let me help in the kitchen, I guess.


December 1, 2012 marks an opportunity for that group of 110 suspicious kids to return for the 40th Anniversary of El Centro’s existence. Not only that crew but all USC alumni looking to recognize and celebrate forty years of centro history at USC, and help raise money to promote another 40.


The original centro occupied the most prominent spot on campus, a storefront space where Hoover Street ended at the gate to campus. Everyone walking onto the University of Southern California campus from nearby student housing passed el centro’s parking lot mural and the wraparound mural crowning the façade.

Led by Sy Abrego, that group of students breathed new energy into campus life. On Cinco de Mayo, MEChA held festivities in the student center patio as well as the lawn of el centro. President John Hubbard came for a formal update and left more convinced than ever to support el centro.

Thost years, at the emcee mic of most centro public events was locutor and student Marco Antonio Dominguez. Dominguez would read his poetry at chicano literature's first floricanto in 1973, then return in 2010 for the reunion floricanto, when Marco Antonio shares the stage with his poet son.

That centro structure was razed years ago, the site today uncommemorated, buried under lovely landscaping and a parking lot.

Today’s centro occupies a beautiful penthouse suite in the nearby architectural gem of the campus church.

Town and Gown, where the original Festival de Flor y Canto sponsored by el centro took place, hosts the 40th Anniversary celebration of El Centro Chicano. Director Billy Vela notes:

For 40 years, we’ve been providing invaluable services and programs to USC Latino students and we’re excited to announce that we will be having a 40th Anniversary Gala on Saturday December 1st, 2012 from 6:00pm to 9:00pm at Town and Gown.

Full details on attending, corporate sponsorships, contacting Billy or El Centro, are at the event website: http://sait.usc.edu/elcentro/


Banned Books Update

The books are still banned in Arizona, but the Special Master has opened the policies--but not the hearts and minds--of the Tucson Unified School District.

The original 1974 desegregation order led to implementing the successful raza studies core curriculum. Then the court took the district's word that it had straightened up and was flying right. Federal oversight lifted, the district dismantled the raza studies program and banned their materials from classrooms. Bureaucrats and teachers pulled the titles from classroom shelves while children looked on in stunned silence. "I thought she was our friend," one student sadly related.

The current court orders admitted the foolishness of trusting these tipos, and returned community sensibilities to TUSD's core. The court goes a step further, demanding the program's expansion to the K-12 gamut.

In the long-awaited report, the Federal Court's Special Master reinstates a core curriculum that restores openness and cultural appropriateness to the curriculum. The story is not burning up the presses, so in addition to the order reproduced by Tucson Sentinel, check out Three Sonorans, whose ongoing reporting has kept the news alive over the long slog to today's status quo ante snafu.

Ironically, per Three Sonorans, fighting the progressive court order are prominent members of Arizona's Democratic Party establishment. Instead of tearing up the banned books list, these people are fighting for the right to ban books.

The voters gave Obama four more years to cure Unitedstates ills like Arizona disease. After Obama brings the troops home--next week would be fine--he needs to clean up the mess in Arizona.


Santa Ana Bowers Museo Fêtes Oaxaca

Click image for a larger size, or visit the Bowers website for details of what looks to be a holiday gift bonanza so early in the shopping season.

La Bloga On-Line Floricanto Day 13 Month 11 Year 2012
Tara Evonne Trudell, Iris De Anda, Sonia Gutiérrez, Esmeralda Bernal, Andrea Mauk

La Bloga celebrates six poems from five poets in the month's second On-Line Floricanto:
“Border Song” by Tara Evonne Trudell
“500 Years” by Iris De Anda
“Herencia / Legacy” por Sonia Gutiérrez
“Rosita” by Esmeralda Bernal
“Mudos Across the Ocean Divide” by Andrea Mauk

Border Song
by Tara Evonne Trudell

will I be
the border song
you sing
against
rusty tall
fences
will I be
the warm
flesh
you ache
to feel
in cold
distances
will humanity
ever comprehend
how deep
brown
can feel
so many years
suppressing
generations
taking fear
and crafting it
to the masses
keeping souls
trapped
in far away
places
continual stealing
taking earth
and
killing her people
will children die
playing sticks
and stones
growing
into living
a walking dead
society
tireless ancestors
spirits fighting
revolutions
over and over
in an America
that doesn't care
to question
will I be
your
last border
song?

tara evonne trudell c/s november 4, 2012



500 Years
by Iris De Anda

Amputated thought discarded in delusion
of too much money
too much gain
Sell you ideas of futuristic dreams
things unseen
& you will never see
Sell the cycle to the middle class
think you're made of glass
made of extremes
Keep the poor in the dark alley
covered with the newspaper that tells of your greed
on them you feed
Radicals seek to misshape your kingdom of doom
for them you have no room
Liberals fight to magnify your lies
try to inform of the underprivileged cries
Labels drown in the abyss
of ultimate creation
Because before
there was or were or is a name
Everything became one in the same
So who's to blame
Present day, month, & fears
It's been 500 years
It's been 500 years
It's been 500 years



Herencia
por Sonia Gutiérrez

Soy la lengua de Frida—vulgar
como la de mi abuela.

Y la punta del bolígrafo azul,
doblegando al papel callado.

También soy la flor de tuna,
asomandome por la madrugada.

Soy orejas de olla de barro, escuchando
el paladar de mis antepasados.

Mujer de cara redonda
como la tortilla de maíz y nopal.

Cuerpo de abeja punzante
de donde nace el mañana.

Y soy, por supuesto, letras armadas
con azadones arreando nuestro destino.

La mariposa sedienta, bebiendo
del sudor de una mano humedecida.

Soy las garras del jaguar, rasgando
las líneas esclavas del bufón de vista corta.

Soy la poeta que las leyes escupen muy lejos—
al exilio de los poetas.

Soy herencia—que pinta de mil matices
de verde a esta nuestra tierra natal.

Pero definitivamente soy una manita de puerco
si tu horquilla del diablo asoma su rostro feo.

A esos los vestimos de esqueletos
y los ponemos a bailar por las calles, eternamente.


Legacy
by Sonia Gutiérrez


I am Frida’s tongue—vulgar
like my grandmother’s.

And the tip of a blue ballpoint pen
kowtowing shy paper.

I am also the prickly pear flower
peering at dawn.

The ears of a clay pot, listening
to the palate of my ancestors.

A woman with a round face
like the corn and cactus tortilla.

Body of a throbbing bee
where tomorrow is born.

And I am, of course, armed letters
with hoes spurring our destiny.

The thirsty butterfly drinking
from the sweat of a moist hand.

I am the claws of the jaguar, tearing
the enslaved lines of the nearsighted fool.

I am the poet whom laws spit far away—
to the exile of poets.

I am legacy—who paints this our homeland
a thousand shades of green.

But I am most definitely an arm twist
if your devil’s pitchfork shows its ugly head.

To those, we dress up like skeletons
and make them dance through the streets, eternally.


Rosita
by Esmeralda Bernal

if I had a thick accent
my words, in your mind,
would flow with memories
of mexico and
your ears would love
the sound of their hands
cleaning house

in your mind
every spanish tinged word
would be a once a year call
back to the fence
your white bread smile
an approval of Rosita
climbing over the fence
directly to your services

if my words were
unbarbed metallic
sounds without
accent
an English cusped in
a spun dream
you would combust
in outrage and
send Rosita packing

© Esmeralda Bernal 11/4/12



Mudos Across the Ocean Divide
by Andrea Mauk

I shed the flag in which I'm draped
so I can see myself bare breasted
unadorned by donkey tails and elephant tusks.
I pluck the stars one by one
from the field of blue
and launch them out the window sill
wonder if they can still
fly
but they twirl back to earth
in a tailspin
and melt like snowflakes
as they touch down.

I come from an island
a goddess
of red, white and blue
Spain's last outpost,
one star, her voice
washes between
coastlines
loudly unheard,
testing ground
for the pill,
breeding ground of
beauty queens...
And here, we are hemming skirts
and stocking shelves
rolling up sleeves,
as they're trading coffee beans
and sugar cane
for tax-free trade
and tourism.
Would you like an umbrella with that?

I sew the stripes together
and wind them 'round me
walk to the nearest polling place
enthusiasm of a mummy,
close the curtain
and cast my net across the wide
froth of Atlantic blue
catch my fill of calamar
and octopus,
fry them up with
Green Party platano
but loving arms, tostones and tentacles aside,
I am awash in my own
milk and honey land,
they call me
that other kind
of Mexican (?)

I am not a slave but I am owned,
possessed like a noun
watched over by the eye
and the pyramid.
And I question the Goddess,
does she really want
to be a state
when the state of the nation
is unraveled, just broken
coming unglued
link by link
on the partisan spine
and the laborious backs,
to be owned by the
boardroom masters on the
87th floor?

I run down the stairs
out the front stoop
to gather the stars
that have yet to dissolve
upon the bodega's
sidewalk
place them in my eyes,
their sparkling hope
fleating,
let the ribbon of stripes sewn
red after white
fly towards home from the boardwalk
on this starless night,
send my voice
spinning out to sea,
a gift to those who stayed behind.

We are citizens both here and there.
We are mudos across the ocean divide,
our borders drawn by Poseidón.
We are peripheral,
between the shores.
I have given away my stars and stripes
left only with the yellow fringe
belted around my nakedness.
It doesn't really matter.
No one will even notice me
on this election eve.


BIOS
“Border Song” by Tara Evonne Trudell
“500 Years” by Iris De Anda
“Herencia / Legacy” por Sonia Gutiérrez
“Rosita” by Esmeralda Bernal
“Mudos Across the Ocean Divide” by Andrea Mauk

Tara Evonne Trudell has resumed writing poetry after a break of almost ten years and is passionate about combining poetry and film to create a visual art form of her own. She is a mother of four children and raising them to be socially aware and conscious of the injustices that plague our society. This is a top priority of hers as a she rediscovers her own word in a world that only attempts to silence the Indigenous spirit.

Iris De Anda is a writer, activist, and practitioner of the healing arts. A native of Los Angeles she believes in the power of spoken word, poetry, storytelling, and dreams. Follow her story @ http://irisdeanda.typepad.com/la_writer_underground/


Sonia Gutiérrez, a promoter of social justice and human dignity, first contributed her poems to Poets Responding to SB 1070 in 2010. Sonia teaches English at Palomar College, where she advises the Palomar Poets. Her poetry and vignettes have appeared in the San Diego Poetry Annual, contratiempo, CRATE, Mujeres de Maiz, City Works Journal and La Jornada Semanal de México. Sonia’s poem, “La Maza y cantera de una poeta”/“A Poet’s Mallet and Quarry,” was selected “10 Best Poems of 2011” by La Bloga. Sonia’s bilingual poetry collection, Spider Woman/La Mujer Araña, is forthcoming; she’s at work on her novel, Kissing Dreams from a Distance, among other projects.


Esmeralda Bernal resides in Phoenix, Arizona. She strongly supports the dreamers and their valiant efforts to have the Dream Act become a reality. Her poetry has appeared in La Bloga, HaLapid, Yellow Medicine Review and recently in Nahualliandoing Dos: An Anthology in Nahuatl, Espanol and Engish.


Andrea García Mauk grew up in Arizona, where both the immense beauty and harsh realities of living in the desert shaped her artistic soul. She calls Los Angeles home, but has also lived in Chicago, New York and Boston. She has worked in the music industry, and on various film and television productions. She writes short fiction,
poetry, original screenplays and adaptations, and is currently finishing two novels.

Her writing and artwork has been published and viewed in a variety of places such as on The Late, Late Show with Tom Snyder; The Journal of School Psychologists and Victorian Homes Magazine. Both her poetry and artwork have won
awards. Several of her poems and a memoir are included in the 2011 anthology, Our Spirit, Our Reality, and her poetry is featured in the 2012 Mujeres de Maiz “‘Zine.”

She is a regular contributor to Poets responding to SB 1070. Her poems have been chosen for publication on La Bloga’s Tuesday Floricanto numerous times. She is also a moderator of Diving Deeper, an online workshop for writers, and has written extensively about music, especially jazz, while working in the entertainment industry.

Her production company, Dancing Horse Media Group, is currently in pre-production of her independent film, “Beautiful Dreamer,” based on her original screenplay and manuscript, and along with her partners, is producing a unique cookbook that blends healthful recipes with poetry and prose from the community.

Tuesday, January 24, 2012

Review: Anaya's Billy the Kid. Mural Restored. Champions. On-Line Floricanto.

Review: Rudolfo Anaya. Billy the Kid and other plays.

Rudolfo Anaya. 
Billy the Kid and Other Plays. Afterword By: Cecilia J. Aragón , Robert Con Davis-Undiano. Norman: UOklahoma Press, 2011.
ISBN: 9780806142258
384.


Michael Sedano

There's a burden on Rudolfo Anaya's back that rivals Sisyphus' rock: being "El abuelo" the "founding father" de Chicana Chicano Literature. It is his fault, after all, that Bless Me, Ultima is the megaseller it has become so he must accept that responsibility. Fortunately, unlike that accursed's mythical burden, an ever-inspired Anaya easily shoulders his on to myriad heights.


2012 marks the fortieth anniversary of publication by TQS of Bless Me, Ultima. (Look for a special announcement later at La Bloga.) Aside from illustrating that quality surpasses the limitations of a tiny obscure publisher, Bless Me, Ultima helped bring Chicana Chicano cultura into United States Literature on our own terms.

As if that weren't sufficient career achievement--Harper Lee, recall, published only a single novel in her career--Anaya goes beyond Ultima to bring readers childrens books, warm folktales, travel writing, and edge-of-your-seat detective novels.

Every family should own Serafina's Stories, read it to the kids for bedtime storytime. Once you've read all the way through it, expect the kidlet to request you read it again.

The lesser-known A Chicano in China documents ways a chicano uses his US-bred xenophobia to find bridges across the cultures and personal enchantments. Then there's the uniqueness of it all; how many chicanos are writing about the PRC?

Every reader of detective fiction will want to devour the Sonny Baca novels. From Sonny's first appearance in Alburquerque through the seasons, Zia Summer, Rio Grande Fall, to Jemez Spring. Baca's a great character plus there's fun seeing Anaya in the character "Ben Chavez," and CHICLE-founder Teresa Marquez appear as herself.

Now Rudolfo Anaya's playwriting has been collected in the University of Oklahoma's 2011 Billy the Kid and other plays. The volume is the 10th in the Press' Chicana And Chicano Visions Of The Americas Series. The title piece and "Who Killed Don José?" appeared in The Anaya Reader. Five plays will be new to most readers.

"The Season of La Llorona" is a fitting opening piece for the collection. It echoes the actos of movimiento teatro, and, like any YA piece is transparently designed to instruct. The piece is a visual treat, too, whose setting alternates between Abuelo's lap on Hallowe'en night, and 500 years earlier to Doña Marina and her slavemaster.

A reading through the collection to its final two works, "Billy the Kid" and "Angie,"tracks refinement in the playwrite's art. "Billy" reads vividly. Irrespective of the formalities of a printed script, the narrative flows effortlessly. One hesitates to praise the play for reading like a novel, but Anaya gives the speeches a coherency that fills in the absent narrative.  A play is not prose, but speech. Anaya's ear so effective his characters jump off the page with distinct voices.

Anaya's intent to soften the historical image of cold-blooded murderer Billy calls to mind the Anglo pachuco in Luis Valdez' Zoot Suit. "I'm Chicano too!" But Billy, Anaya admits, killed that vato. And the other one. Billy is a bicultural victim of cultural schism, an outsider boy raised with manito sensibilities who finds himself on the wrong side of a landgrab. Billy's pursuers know him--he's one of them--and use his passions to gun him down. At curtain, Anaya has effortlessly blurred lines between the historical Billy's life and the stage Billy's life.

"Angie" is contemporary U.S. theatre at its best. Whereas audiences can observe Billy's tragedy safely behind the distance of its historical setting, "Angie" slams theatre-goers and readers right between the eyes with its in-your-own-family theme of warehoused elders.

Angie is a broken, old woman, forced into a convalescent home for her own good. Angie's daughter is trapped between a controlling asshole vendido husband and being a daughter who is failing her responsibility to care for an aging mother.

The playwrite weaves a thread of enjoyment for readers of the Sonny Baca thrillers, who recognize the land grab scheme that has captured Angie's son-in-law's soul. But that's a sidelight to the quandary Anaya sharpens in building his audience's vicarious guilt trip. The villain's a hateful Nurse Ratched tipa who uses drugs and mindless rules to squeeze joy out of patients, keeping them hyped for convenience of the staff.

Other elders glumly deteriorate in this setting. Angie, despite her wheelchair, nurtures her lust for life. From that arises an opportunity to inject life into the day room with music, dance, sex, and that most precious absence in old gente's lives, puro fun.

In the end, Angie does what she came to the nursing home to do, she dies. The tragedy is never death--Angie, as Randy Lopez does, goes home--because whatever truths and lies she leaves behind don't matter now. The tragedy is how Angie gets there, and how, in those final years, things could have been done differently. Some theatre-goers will leave the auditorium thinking about their mothers, as will an aging reader.

In a fitting way, this play about the viejitos fighting to stay alive brings to a close the collection that begins with chamacos learning about La Llorona. Anaya's foreword and the afterwords from Cecilia J. Aragón, Robert Con Davis-Undiano provide additional perspective on the plays. Thanks goes to the University of Oklahoma Press for bringing such an excellent opportunity to acquire a captivating and instructive collection of Rudolfo Anaya's theatrical work.


Lost and Ruined Mural Re-Born

The City of Los Angeles recently reversed a long-held belief that murals violated the city's advertising and visual blight laws. It's the latest evidence of a progressive attitude toward the city's treasures of muralism.
Ernesto de La Loza beams vibrantly as his palette.

With so much pedo in El Lay's local governance, I'll take all the evidence I can find, especially when it comes in the form of grants to restore  faded artifacts of muralism's movimiento heyday in the 1970s, like Ernesto de La Loza's 1975 "Organic Stimulus" in historic Estrada Courts.

Estrada Courts' murals make its walls among the more remarkable collections of public art in the world. The deteriorating murals are targetted for restoration through efforts of people in organizations like the Mural Conservancy of Los Angeles. Through MCLA's efforts, restoration of "Organic Stimulus" is funded by the Los Angeles Department of Cultural Affairs.
Muralist Ernesto de la Loza, Isabel Rojas Williams MCLA 

In LA, two public housing sites, Ramona Gardens and Estrada Courts house stupendous galleries of art in the monumental scale covering twenty foot high walls. Sadly, the work has been unconserved and defaced by generations of taggers layering placazos, ironically obscuring a lasting cultural heritage.

2012 detail

circa 1980, scanned Ektachrome

Then again, a few pendejos have gone on to produce outstanding gallery and authorized wall work. The late artist Magu was always quick to defend tagging and the tagger as malunderstood, a form of culture and importance, even when the tagger hit walls of great value.

La Bloga has long followed the survival of the enchanting "El Corrido de Boyle Heights." Its prominent corner makes it among the highest visibility targets in the region, its beauty irresistible to nihilists with spray cans. Now, with the City's new mural law and its Department of Cultural Affairs joining efforts like Amigos de Siquieros, UCLA's Fowler Museum, the Getty museum, and the Mural Conservancy of Los Angeles, we're presented the most hopeful evidence to hit the block in ages.

Visit the Mural Conservancy of Los Angeles' Facebook page to observe the restoration process and the full mural before and after.  https://www.facebook.com/muralconservancy


For these and additional images at higher resolution of the dedication of Ernesto de la Loza's "Organic Stimulus," see Read! Raza's foto essay at readraza.com/edelalozarestored.


Late-Breaking News
UCSB C/S Honoring Luis Leal

Back in 1963, I was the only Chicano in the freshman class at UC Santa Barbara, which makes it all the more amazing to this alumnus of the English, Speech, and Classics programs that today there's a room in South Hall named for Dolores Huerta and a Department of Chicana Chicano Studies.

It's in that Dolores Huerta room in South Hall, where C/S holds an event dedicated to their late Chair's memory on Wednesday, January 25, 2012.

Click the middle image below for a slightly higher resolution view, or visit the Departamento's  Chicanarrobas Facebook page. Is that Chicanats, in English?




Open Call for Champions

Power of the press belongs to the person who owns one. That used to be a bad thing. Today, access to the internet is the same as owning a press, and that’s a good thing. But there's a problem or two.

It’s not that traditional print is in trouble. It is; big corporate media, to be more precise, is in trouble. That’s a consequence of the power of the internet press. Everyone is the same click away. With tightening discretionary budgets people increasingly cut back on magazine and newspaper subscriptions, migrating to some mix of fee-, advertising-supported, and wholly satisfying no-fee internet alternatives.

Print or digital, periodicals remain a huge market in the monetized segment of the information economy. According to advertising clearing house Standard Rate and Data Service, the US offers consumers over 3000 print and 5000 advertising-supported digital magazines.

Most readers support traditional media. I am a long-time subscriber to a handful of consumer magazines, plus enjoying a couple of free trade magazines. Kids in the family can count on me for a holiday gift subscription to some magazine--someone has to collect Ranger Rick and National Geographic back issues, after all.

Old media as traditional gatekeeper has lost control to the masses, unleashing flood gates of competition from every Fulana de Tal with enough computer literacy to operate Macintosh software. Given inspiration and nimble fingers any numerate and literate person becomes equal rival to the Grey Lady, or the Saturday Review for that matter.

Not only are there more of us than Them—think of the 99 percent v. the 1—alternative media are cheaper. For readers, here’s where a problem lurks: the honey trap of low price tag and easy acquisition.

An impulse dime there, twenty there, the occasional hundred dollars for a handmade poetry book that never arrives. All the while the bankers are chirping away collecting their transaction fees and taking their cut as click after click adds one’s personal contribution to Obama’s economic recovery.

¿Pero sabes qué? After a while, another $2.50 here, another $20 there, and one’s discretionary lana looks like the fleece at the bottom of a wallet. In the vastness of an unruly democratized media landscape, readers need a new gatekeeper role to influence their decision-making choices!

It’s unquestioned that invaluable information lies within a click’s effort of acquisition. What’s absent is a form of guided serendipity, an advocate, someone who finds and champions a title, who talks or writes to convince fellow readers to click.

With so much competition for a reader’s dollar, a personal endorsement from a credible source goes a long way toward impelling a buyer’s decision to seek more information, to click, to acquire access, to spend. Ditto worthwhile information. With ever-increasing volumes of  information out there in the tubes, advocates perform a filtering function, picking and choosing from what came their way. Clearly, everyone can be a Champion.

An opportunity reached me recently, a pair of poetry-related print and digital publications. The first is the $4.50 American Poetry Review special feature on a dozen Chicana Chicano poets.

The second, one that includes a couple of La Bloga On-Line Floricanto friends, the $20 Liberty’s Vigil, The Occupy Anthology: 99 Poets among the 99%, so new there's no picture yet.

Will someone become the Champion for one of these opportunities? If so, click the Comments link at the end of today's column and leave your recommendation.


On-Line Floricanto On January's 4th Tuesday

La Bloga's On-Line Floricanto began in conjunction with planning for the 2010 Festival de Flor y Canto. Yesterday • Today • Tomorrow celebrated at the University of Southern California.

That floricanto scheduled two father-son readings, two Montoyas and two Dominguez. Happily, January's penultimate La Bloga On-Line Floricanto features the father-son poets Sanchez plus the son of past floricanto performer Gaby Sweningsen. It's a delight that in floricanto, an old order doesn't pass, giving place to new. Instead, generations share the stage while embracing and making one's own energies.


"Rise" by Braja Mandala Sanchez
"Hollering My Discovery" by Luis Ascencio-Cortez
"The Creator’s Gift" by Andrea Hernandez Holm
"Poeta y Guerrero" Raul Sanchez
"Morelia" by Samuel Duarte


Rise
by Braja Mandala Sanchez  

The pen's mightier than the gun
Why tote a strap when u can utilize ur tongue???
This 1 iz dedicated 2 my people of the sun
Who've toiled in the mud
Shed sweat, Tears, & Blood.
Only 2 be victims of ignorant racism
Knowledge iz tru bliss.
Everyday I pray 2 the Sun-God
up above,
Plz shine ur light into the darkness.
Erase the hate & replace it with love.
Mexi-Kingz will rize,
While abominable racist haterz
accumulate devastating Karma.

~~~Sun-chez~~~ 12-2011


Hollering My Discovery 
by Luis Ascencio-Cortez

Drip, drip, drip, drip
Is the sound of the blood that flows
Out of bodies of innocent fellows,
That fell victim to a relative’s stupidity
Sorry, but similar race doesn’t mean immunity
Mothers smother their children, to walk the right path
But even if they do, they’ll fall to their environment’s wrath
Now, we expect others to solve this
But we can do it ourselves
Just toss some books at the ignorant
Allow their brains to develop, out of the stage of an infant
Bigger problems than ourselves
Like, the children getting hungry
The poor still losing money
Kids still losing mommies
Being sent across borders
Restrained by metal orders
Look, now we’re being slaughtered
Have an examination of our dependence
And expectation across the nation
Not on ourselves but others
Educate yourselves on the truth not fiction
Maybe then, we won’t have such restriction
But rather the freedom of thought
Because, we don’t think, this isn’t what we sought
But rather what we fought….
Against many years ago
When disease spread among us
And I am not just talking physical
But hatred is a disease, trust
It’ll eat and eat
Then we will lay here as we accept defeat…..

NEVER!!!

© Luis Ascencio-Cortez



Creator’s Gift
by Andrea Hernandez Holm

We always drive the backroads
Of Pinal County
With our windows open wide
Enough to let the desert in.
We turn down dirt roads
Bump through sandy washes
Sometimes close enough to reach out
And touch the guama leaves with our fingertips.

We go by el Rancho~
The three-room wooden casita
Where my mom grew up
Between the cottonwoods.
“That’s where the piñon groves were,”
She says, pointing to some space in the distance.

We drive among the saguaros and ocotillos,
Stop near the mountains
And walk gingerly past the jumping cholla
And over the pincushion cactus
Picking fruits and blossoms along the way
Letting their flavors saturate our senses.

We walk between the hills
Rising and falling swells
Always going west toward the crimson evening.

© Andrea Hernandez Holm 2012


Poeta y Guerero / Warrior and Poet
by Raul Sanchez 

para  Francisco X. Alarcón

Se siente el fuego
de un Dragon Negro
y el de un guerrero
vengador sin espada
ni capa
ni daga
solo un arma—
la pluma
y su voz
resonante
cuando el Poeta
dice
la verdad!

© Raul Sanchez 1-16-2012


For Francisco X. Alarcón

The heat
of the Black Dragon’s breath
can be felt
along with the breath
of the avenging warrior
without sword
without cape
without dagger
only one weapon at hand
his pen--
and his resounding voice
when the Poet
tells
the truth!

© Raul Sanchez 1-16-2012



Morelia 
by Samuel Duarte


I have come to sit and dine under
your ancient portales, across from your
cathedrals and cobblestone pathways
where camera-happy tourists rush to prove
you were once part of their lives.

I have walked under your archways
beside monolithic resorts sprawled
across magnificent horizons,
under the surrounding aqueducts
where our indigenous brothers and sisters
wait outside your lavish banquets of progress.

I have visited your points of interest
in your colorful brochures; your murals,
gardens, museums, your courtyards and
fountains adorned with fauns and naiads
from which a revolution once flowed

And have strolled the Plaza de Armas,
where I first saw reflected in your eyes
Moorish and Spanish conquests buried
in a kaleidoscope of time.

But as beautiful as you are, Morelia,
I figured we are all born with flaws.
And that even if we manage to rid of a few
we end up picking up another bundle along the way.

With this in mind, I lifted your veil
and searched for the other you
behind the Cathedrals of Perfection.

I searched your dark streets and alleyways
where apparitions gather alongside shoeshine boys
drumming fistfuls of earth-pounding prayers.

I searched for you, Morelia,
until I found you in the
coloresque Colinas of your youth,
inviting me to dance in a dusty swirl,
where you cared to embrace me
and all my imperfections.



BIOS

"Rise" by Braja Mandala Sanchez
"Hollering My Discovery" by Luis Ascencio-Cortez
"The Creators Gift" by Andrea Hernandez Holm
"Poeta y Guerrero" Raul Sanchez
"Morelia" by Samuel Duarte

Braja is a resident of Alachua, Florida. His inspiration comes from the Renaissance of his Chicano culture, rap music, the fight for social justice and his internal spiritual journey.


Raúl Sánchez, a Seattle Bio-Tech technician, prosody enthusiast, translator, and DJ, who conducts workshops on The Day of the Dead in Tieton WA. Featured in the program for the 2011 Burning Word Poetry Festival in Leavenworth WA. Board member of the Washington Poets Association, Los Norteños writers group and recently a moderator for the Poets Responding to SB 1070 Facebook page. His work appeared on-line in The Sylvan Echo, Flurry, Gazoobitales, Pirene’s Fountain and several times in La Bloga. His most recent work is the translation of John Burgess "Graffitto" released  by Ravenna Press. Also, he appears in the Occupy San Francisco Anthology by Jambu Press, in the Anthology Speaking Desde las Heridas (Publisher: Universidad Nacional Autónoma  de México). His first Chapbook to be released early Spring 2012 by Path Moon Press.


Samuel Hiram Duarte was born in Nogales, Sonora, Mexico in 1974. Along with his parents and three brothers, he migrated to California and settled in the agricultural Central California Valley. His poetry has been featured in Flies, Cockroaches, and Poets, a yearly journal for the arts, Differentia Press and in The Sound of Poetry Review. He has also written a short story compilation; Stories from the Other Side of Town, and a second book of poetry; Seven Standard Roads. He lives in Santa Maria California with his wife Jessica and son Kael.

Sunday, March 27, 2011

Afterglow: Life With No-TV

by tatiana de la tierra

It’s a big gray lump in the living room, a has-been that now attracts dust and random clutter—CDs, pens, cinnamon gum, a magnifying lens, a red dragon, notebooks, DVDs, coins, colorful glass figurines, a purse, a salt lamp, a silver bracelet. My very own eyesore. Gone are the days that I worshipped its light into the night. How midnight quickly became three in the morning. How my pulse raced with suspense. How I yelled, outraged. How I got hooked on predictable stories, sappy sentiments, and bimbos. How I attempted to multi-task, working and watching, eventually dropping the “working” part.

How I swore, every time I got the cable bill, This is the last time! No longer will I pay an insane amount of money to submit my subconscious to psychic and mental pollution! How I fantasized giving Charter the finger. How I would chop, chop, cut, cut.

I thought about it seriously for three years, replaying the chop-chop-cut-cut fantasy every month. I thought about all the money I’d save. All the time I’d have to write. All those hikes I was going to do. How I’d make up for all the lost time. How I would sleep a good eight hours each night. How I’d be cooking soups and baking cakes from scratch. How I’d hang out with friends. How I’d go out to poetry readings, live performances, art movies. How I’d read all those novels on my bookshelves. Maybe I’d take up water coloring or spin clay bowls with my hands. Go horseback riding. Who knows. Anything is possible, right?

A writer I know ditched TV. I wrote to her on Facebook and asked her the big question: Is there life after no-TV? Yes! She raved about the 600-page novel she edited and whittled down to 470 pages with no-TV. The article she wrote for publication. The talk she gave at a conference, the workshop she did at a library, on and on. All of this during one month of no-TV.

The TV was her surrogate soul mate. She had several sets on at the same time, so she wouldn’t miss anything as she went from room to room. She sped home to catch her shows. She fell asleep under its glow. And now that she was healed with no-TV, she was rediscovering her soul. Words were pouring out of her. She became attentive to bird song and sunshine. She joined humankind again and became a social butterfly. She even got a little TV in with friends, for special occasions—the Super Bowl, the Oscars, some great flick.

Clearly, her TV grip was even stronger than mine. If she could do it, I could do it. She recommended a 21-day TV fast, to start.

I thought about it for another year. In that time, my no-TV fantasy grew. I would write a novel! Learn how to play the harmonica! I would compost and become an urban farmer! I’d write songs and record a CD! I’d volunteer for hospice care, take in a few foster kids, become a shaman, help save Mother Earth!

Two months ago, I called Charter and did the chop-chop-cut-cut.

Television, my perverse meditation, how I miss you.

Forgive me the cliché, but life hasn’t been the same without you. None of my grandiose ideas have taken root in your absence. I’ve gone to one poetry reading in two months. Hung out twice with friends. I haven’t hiked, baked cakes, started a novel, learned how to paint or play anything, or read a book from my own collection.

I’ve eaten frozen pizzas, taken care of laundry on Thursdays, washed and rearranged all my rocks, kept my apartment free of dust bunnies by sweeping every day. I have fantasized. A lot. About all those things I was going to do without you, yet haven’t.


I have sat in my red rocking chair, staring at you, pining for you. How perfect you were. Everything in one place, in one big box. How that leather couch from Ikea was like a favorite sweater. How you transformed the living room into the dining room. How much more I enjoyed meals in your company. Even the cats adored you, got entranced with you. How I was so almighty with that control in my hands, cruising for the perfect flick of the moment, sometimes even toggling between two movies. How I felt superior to most other TV people, because I only watched movies. No junk shows, no commercials, no reality TV. Premium cable for premium people like myself.

Now I am empty and alone.

Now you must go.

I was so faithful, I didn’t even get one of those snazzy flat screens. It was you, only you.

Now you must go. Because the fact that you are physically here makes it difficult to find other ways to live. It’s like a bad lesbian breakup. The kind where you break up, yet continue to live with each other. There is no sex, only memories of when there was sex.

You have become a big gray useless blob. I can’t go forward in your presence. You must leave now.

The door is just to your left. I will roll you out, straight to the back of the building, and set you by the dumpster. I will dust your body, kiss you on the cheek, honor our time together, and turn my back. You will make someone else very happy.


Me, I’m going to stare at my bookshelves. Hernando Téllez, Laura Restrepo, Mario Mendoza, Mutis and Silvana Paternostro are calling out my name. I’m going to take them into my hands, get to know them, and make new friends.