Stigmata
A WOMAN SUSPENDED IN A RED VOID. HER LEGS ARE SPREAD, THE PALMS OF HER HANDS UP … IN A GESTURE OF … SUPPLICATION? BESEECHING?
IS SHE SCREAMING OR LAUGHING? HER LEGS ARE CROSSED, TIGHT, FOLDED, CLOSED. WHAT IS POSSIBLE IS NOT VISIBLE. SHE POURS HOT WAX ON HER BALD, BENT HEAD. SHE HOWLS EVEN WHEN SHE SLEEPS. SHE’S A SCAMMER, A THIEF, THE EMPRESS OF SORROW, THE QUEEN OF SELF-PITY. SHE PAINTS EVERYTHING GOLD: THE STOVE, THE REFRIGERATOR, THE RADIO, THE BED, THE PLATES, AND THE SILVER. MIDASIAN MEDEA THE MEDUSA A CLUSTER OF SPIKES NOT SNAKES.
HER CROWN OF THORNS.
DISSATISFIED WITH HER ROLE AS SPECTATOR, BORED OUT OF HER GOURD, SHE CAUSES SCENES AND CREATES SPECTACLES.
IN ONE VERSION, A BLACK MAN, ALSO PAINTED GOLD, HANGS DEAD FROM A TREE. IT’S A PROVOCATIVE IMAGE, A CRASH COURSE THAT’S GOT TONGUES WAGGING. IS THE BLACK MAN IN COLLUSION? A PERFORMER OR A LIFE-SIZE MANNEQUIN? A SELL-OUT OR A VISIONARY?
EXACTLY THREE FEET AWAY, SHE HAS SET A TABLE FOR ONE WITH A LACE CLOTH, PLATE, FORK, KNIFE, SOUP SPOON, TEASPOON, GOBLET, AND GOLD LAME NAPKIN. A SHIMMER OF GOLD DUST SPRAYED ON EVERYTHING WE SEE, THE HANGMAN’S NOOSE A GHASTLY CHANDELIER.
THEN THE SNAP IS SHOT, THE VIDEO VIDEOED, THE AUDIO TAPED & LOOPED, THE LAUGH & APPLAUSE TRACKS CUED UP, THE NIGHTMARE PERMANENTLY INSTALLED.
IF HE’S PAINTED GOLD, HOW ARE WE SUPPOSED TO KNOW HE’S BLACK?
YOU’LL KNOW.
A STILL FROM “DUEL IN THE SUN” STARRING JENNIFER JONES AS HALF-BREED IS BLOWN-UP SO BIG, HER IMAGE IS LOST IN A BLUR OF DOTS AND GRAIN. FOR THIS MOVIE, THE ACTRESS’ SKIN HAS BEEN STAINED WITH WALNUTS. THE ROLE IS TYPICAL. WE FORGIVE HER — SHE TRIES HARD TO BE FIERY, TO SMOLDER WITH PASSION AS SHE TORMENTS GREGORY PECK AND … WHO WAS THAT OTHER GUY?
ELVIS PRESLEY AS HALF-BREED WITH BLUE EYES IN “FLAMING STAR.” MARLON BRANDO IN “TEAHOUSE OF THE AUGUST MOON.” THAT’S EASY — BUT EVEN MORE CONFUSING AND INFURIATING, RICARDO MONTALBAN IN “SAYONARA.” A MEXICAN PLAYING JAPANESE — BUT THEN AGAIN, TOSHIRO MIFUNE USED TO ACT IN MEXICAN MOVIES. AS A MEXICAN. IN MEXICO.
WHAT’S THE DIFFERENCE?
THERE’S A WOLF IN PIMP’S CLOTHING LEERING AT CARMEN MIRANDA IN A CAFE. IT’S THE LOUP GAROU KID, THE LOOP GARROT, THE COYOTE HYENA JACKAL WHO INVADES YOUR DREAMS. MAYBE IT’S NOT A CAFE, BUT A SMOKEY CABARET IN POST-WAR BERLIN. THE BERLIN OF DIETRICH — THAT’S ALWAYS A RELIABLE IMAGE, ISN’T IT?
EASY.
WHO GIVES A SHIT? EASY IS OKAY — OKAY TO STRIVE TO BE ACCESSIBLE, RELIABLE, EASY —
WHO’S THE REAL SNOB? THE BOOOGEE-BRAT?
ANYWAY.
CARMEN IS BENT OVER, WHILE A DONKEY DRESSED LIKE A MAN FUCKS HER FROM BEHIND. WE’RE IN TIJUANA. IT’S 1958, A MAN IN A PITH HELMET IS TAKING PICTURES AND MEASURING THE DONKEY’S ENORMOUS …
WHAT COLOR IS HE?
DONKEY, MAN, OR ANTHROPOLOGIST?
WHITE, OF COURSE.
AH HA.
DOES THAT MAKE IT ACCEPTABLE?
AND WHAT ABOUT CARMEN?
MIRANDA?
AH HA.
DOES THAT MAKE IT PAINFUL?
–
WHAT?
–
WATCH OUT YOUR DON’T START.
WHAT?
SOUNDING LIKE EVERYONE ELSE.
WHO?
THOSE PEOPLE YOU DESPISE.
AH HA
TELL ME.
AGAIN?
AGAIN.
THE WOMAN NAILED TO A CROSS —
FROM THE BEGINNING.
Jessica Hagedorn A Work in Progress, 1991
{Tribes Issue 1}