WRITTEN BY PHAEDRA PINKSTON

Singer/songwriter Robin Greenstein is keeping folk music alive in New York City. Originally a Native of Long Island NY, Greenstein was taught the guitar at age 11 and later the banjo at 17.

Inspired by legendary musicians like Joni Mitchell and Simon and Garfunkel, the musician eventually enrolled in Suny Stony Brook University where she emphasized in classical guitar.

In later years, this passionate artist became a full time accomplished songwriter/ musician and was signed to Bob Dylan’s publishing company and has since performed at Madison Square Garden as well as outside the U.S. (like Germany and Japan).

When Greenstein performs clearly she is a lyrical aficianado combining music of many genres such as jazz, country, pop, and rock.

Is there any advice Greenstein would like to pass along to all those struggling/aspiring musicians out there? “Keep working your craft! Both musicality and songwriting.”

To find out more about this local musician please visit

www.robingreenstein.com

 By Howard Pflanzer

I talked to Thom Corn, the curator of the exhibit, A Starter Kit for Collectors, at the Tribes Gallery on Sunday afternoon, May 16^th, just before it was coming off the walls of the gallery.

Pflanzer: How did you decide on the artists for this exhibit?

Corn: I wanted artists who made prints and multiples and/or small works.  I looked to highlight the artists and culture makers who have come through the Lower East Side in the past three decades.  I wanted the most eclectic group of artists around – whether they were from downtown, uptown and midtown.  Any and all styles.

Any guiding idea about hanging the show?

My first idea was a salon style hanging of the art works using the entire space.  If you look around you’ll see a mind blowing assortment of works that cover the walls of the gallery.

How did you find the artists in the show?

My rolodex is a work of art and that was the key to the show.  I looked through it and called artists and if they were at the same number and answered the phone they were in the show.   Almost no one who was asked said “no.”

What is the future of the works in the show?

The whole collection has been photographed and it will be on e-bay, virtual and available, for online sales very soon.  You can buy the whole collection or any of the individual works.  Watch out for it.

Peyote road man

Riding a cycle in three parts

Green woman on a rocky bed

War woman

Moroccan woman

A mandala of breasts

The milk of human kindness

I can still win

Hamburgers and bunny rabbits

Time myself, a John Lennon clock

Geez us

Scratch

Gaeity I

Ojas

Dulce de leche

The dwelling series

Kiki’s bluebird

Botanica IV

Acrobats music birds

Tip the hat

With the hand

Written by Phaedra Pinkston
 
Arising NYC poet Puma Perl newly released poetry book, “Knuckle Tatoos” accounts the artist’s exploration from the hard knocks of self liquidation to personal fulfillment. 
 
The Brooklyn native grew up being  inspired by the beatnicks of the 1950s and keeps busy performing open at open mic nights in lower Manhattan and postings on her inventive online blog http://pumaperl.blogspot.com/ 
 
Perl chose the title because much like tatoos, she feels the past is something one can never hide or erase.  This is not the poet’s first published works, “Belinda and Her Friends” was Perl’s first collection of poetry published in 2004.  The author describes the book as more character driven poems. 
 
Knuckle Tatoos can be found at St. Marks Bookstore in Manhattan and Amazon.com

BY STEPHEN WOLF
Recently, on a cloudy spring afternoon a slender and stylish woman dressed customarily in New York black (with a bit of color beneath her coat, of course) sipped black coffee and gazed with amazement and a tinge of regret across Bryant Park.

A Downtown girl (Bronx-born but on Bank Street for the past 30 years), she hasn’t stood beneath these healthy trees in the center of Midtown since the bad old days. Then this was no Eden amid the traffic and skyscrapers. Back then this was Needle Park — where junkies in the shadows and shot heroin scored at Times Square down the block; where the hookers earned what their catch paid them and garbage, not water, filled the fountain.

“There’s even children here,” she says above the delicate tables and chairs, chess games and laptops, the genuine flowerbeds, and the lawn as green as the plastic grass in Easter baskets.

She wears heels and her blonde hair long, carries a street-smart attitude and maybe a knife (“if you tread/ on me,” she wrote, “you tread on apple, / snake, eve.”). Her eyes are observant, lively, and with none of that most un-New York fear or resistance to look at people: “do not tell me not to talk to strangers” she wrote in “I AM A NY WOMAN.”

This New York woman is Eve Packer, and she’s written remarkably about “all that secret shame” when “there were whores & pimps & thiefs & all kinda stuff.” Her poems tell of a time when, if you were a young woman, “I mean you just didn’t go the 42nd St.”

But Eve did, and with a sharp and sensitive eye wound her own way through 42nd Street where all the theaters showed bad Kung Fu movies, when Eighth Avenue had peep show palaces and “Playland” and “Playpen.” At “Show World” on 8th and 42nd, she was at first kicked out for being a girl; and there was Sally’s — the transvestite showplace beneath the old Times tower. Even the police station now at W. 43rd (where Broadway crosses 7th Avenue) was a sex shop with XXX in the windows between sex toys and promises of “fantasy and fun.”

She explored this male world forbidden to women (except for the strippers and hookers) with compassion. Sinister, sleazy, dangerous, sexy, this world also teemed with dreams and desire, theatrics and even humor. Initially she watched. Later, she took notes. In time, the strippers and hookers, shemales and pimps, junkies and dealers recognized her. Some even trusted her.

“What is love?” she asked them and learned enough to write in her poem “fantasy booth” the voice of the girl who dances (actually just gyrates) for men enclosed in booths for 15 seconds for a quarter: “I go up real/ close, it’s all about giving them/ some & pulling back.”

Her eye and pen captured more than just the sex shops and drugs, for gravitating to this world on the city’s ragged edge despite its centrality were the homeless, the disposed, the forgotten, the lost — staggering and desperate through a time when New York’s murder rate was five times what it is now; when crack vials and tiny plastic bags of different colors, empty of heroin, were everywhere; like a million plastic, fallen leaves throughout Bryant Park.

Educated first at New York’s High School of Music and Art, then the University of Michigan with degrees from the London School of Economics and NYU in psychology, she’s received grants from New York Foundation of the Arts, a National Endowment for Poetry, twice “Downtown” Poet of the Year, and has read/performed at all the finest poetry clubs in the city. She’s taught at Queens College, the New School, and the NYC Department of Education’s Learning to Read Through the Arts program — but her real education and her varied life’s best work came from these busy, gaudy, once-treacherous streets. Her poems are fun, thrilling, provocative; her wit, sharp as stiletto heels.

Her poetry collection “playland: poems 1994-2005” was published by Fly Night Press. Hearing her read is even better (though we miss then her inventive spelling and typography), for Eve doesn’t just read her poetry as most poets do. Eve performs them, giving words emphasis, even acting the girl in the fantasy booth. Her voice can fall into secrecy, slowing down, speaking softly — while at other times, she talks tough or audibly strokes the images with a sensuous, even erotic (though never vulgar) voice, all entwined with an alto saxophone provided by the esteemed Noah Howard, or on piano, the inimitable, the timeless Stephanie Stone.

There’s an exciting CD of her reading, “west from 42nd” — and with a jazz accompaniment, she reads her work on the CD “Now Playing” (also available at Left Bank Books on Eighth Avenue near W. 12th Street). Both CDs are easily gotten on-line through CDBaby as well as NCD Sales. But best is to see/hear her live, on stage, in performance.

“do not tell me what I cannot & can do,” she wrote in her signature piece “I’M A NY WOMAN, I DO WHAT I WANT.”

“do not tell me to wear long black baggy pants
when I wanna wear a short sheer orange
see-thru mini on subway, bus…
“do not tell me not to bite my nails,
color my hair…stop giving taxi drivers
a hard time piece of my mind,
cross against the light…
do not tell me not to talk to
strangers, flirt, network my cleavage, keep my legs
and mouth shut…
“do not tell me what I cannot & can do”

Eve saw the change coming, of course; first, the Disney deal, and there’s a Duane Reade’s where Show World once lit and lured on 8th Avenue and 42nd Street. With families now hurrying to see “Mary Poppins” in Times Square, with flowers growing in the ivy and true lovers strolling Bryant Park, she knows the change is for the better, blinks slowly, and says just above a whisper, “Yet like the song says, but not for me.”

Eve Packer’s poem “playland” appears in “I Speak of the City: Poems of New York” (Columbia University Press), edited by Stephen Wolf. On May 14th, she’s part of CCNY’s Annual Spring Poetry Festival, and performs solo on May 22nd (between 5 and 7 p.m.) at Small’s Jazz Club, 183 W. 10th Street, just west of Seventh Avenue.

Written by Phaedra Pinkston

After meeting the late jazz drummer and band leader Buddy Rich, New York City local Tommy Bayiokos began playing drums professionally at the age of ten.  Through the years, Bayiokos has studied with Kim Plainfield of Drummers Collective New York for almost ten years as well as performing with the Jack Goodman Orchestra and The Miss America Pageant in Atlantic City (1998-2001), and the late great Laura Branigan (2001-2004).

Bayiokos also dedicates his talents as a teacher at In Performance Music Workshop We Make Musicians (IPMW).  This emerging artist is also a new member of the Screen Actors Guild an has had cameos and bit part appearances in television shows such as Law & Order, The Sopranos, and Third Watch.

By Phaedra Pinkston

Emerging modern dancer Adi Kfir is a recent graduate of New York’s own, Dance New Amsterdam. Originally from Israel, the versatile performer is proficient in various dance forms such as ballet, modern dance, contemporary dance, as well as release and contact improvisation. Kfir maintains her craft through persevereance, passion, and discipline.

It was at the docile age of six, Kfir began taking a jazz dance classes. The classes left a lasting impression on the performer who in later years, toured with the Boomer Dance Academy both nationally and internationally for ten years prior to moving to New York. Kfir has been inspired by some of the most prolific dancers in the industry such as choreographer Pina Bausch and artistic director Ohan Naharin.

So far, Kfir has performed with the ShirDance Theatre Company in New York as well as with the Raedan Productions of CUNY. Kfir feels that her live performances give her the opportunity to, “transfer and share a personal deep intimate moment that involves thoughts, feelings, and ideas.”

So what’s next for this enthusiastic new talent? The dynamic performer is currently in the process of preparing for a summer festival in Israel “Mahol Lohet” (Blazing Dance).

Advice the accomplished Kfir has to give to all aspiring dancers? “Don’t give up because you think you are not good enough. Have faith and believe in yourself.”

by Phaedra Pinkston

Staten Island, New York vocalist/guitarist Dorian Spencer can be seen performing live around New York City making the commutes around town a little bit more relaxing for the always-on-the-go New Yorker.

Originally born in Puerto Rico, the self taught musician was greatly impacted by musical legend Jimi Hendrix additionally, all of Spencer’s songs are originally composed by Spencer himself.

The soloist even has his own record label, Mode Records.

A Jack of trades in instruments, the singer/songwriter is also well versed in the piano, saxophone, and the trombone.

Spencer is frequently seen performing at Grand Central Station, Whitehall Street Terminal, Penn Station, and of course, Times Square.

To hear original tunes by Dorian Spencer please go to www.dorianspencer.com

Cheers

Sam Shepard’s new book of stories, Day Out of Days, is a romp through the highways of America, through the personal history of the narrators, as well as through the historical past of the many areas of the States that the highways touch and pass through, that is often as brutal and violent as it is insightful and illuminating. Published by Knopf and covering 282 pages, this new work of fiction is broken up into 133 sections that range in length from a paragraph to ten or so pages with the majority of them being only one or two or three pages and mixed in with a few titleless poems (reminiscent of his earlier work Motel Chronicles) and nonnarrative based dialogues that go untethered to any particular character, a technique used in both of his previous books of short stories, Cruising Paradise and Great Dream of Heaven. Names are rarely used and a name for a narrator or narrators is never brought up so though the steady voice of the pieces holds without much variation one cannot assume that they are all being told by the same voice, in the same vein that one cannot assume that they are all different. There is an ambiguity to who is doing the telling, but it is not an ambiguity that stumps the reader or clouds the experience of the stories with being obtuse or opaque but rather enhances the themes and the overall structure of existential query and self reflection, and by not making it the personal journey of one man, or the shared experiences of many that can be compared against each other, he does both. By never explicitly stating whether the sections are linked by one or many voices the reader must digest the stories, the journey, as both, as though it is one man traveling the heart of America, traveling his past, and as the many, the multiple people whose emotional landscapes are inextricably tied to the shared experiences of what it means to be human. And for Sam what it means to be human (or at the very least, what this book investigates as the plane of the human living condition) deals tremendously with memory.

The first story, “Kitchen,” a lyrical piece, talks mainly of the past of the narrator who lists the things around him in the kitchen, many of which are photographs, that lay out a snapshot of his past as well as a dip into the historical past with references to Sitting Bull, Henry Miller and Samuel Beckett. This story is almost an archetype for the entire book as it deals with memory, the past, horses, the historical past and isolation, as the narrator says now no one comes around and that they know better and alludes to having engineered this isolation that is the fulfillment of the way of life that the narrator describes as a sinking ship, by putting a pit bull out front to keep these visitors away. In the last story of the book, called “Gracias,” the reader finds a narrator who, after driving for miles ends up in a small town with an ancient church, “ . . . walking hand in hand with our children, . . .” where having gone down a narrow side street, the family hears a piano that, when it stops, they all applaud, after which they hear a small voice from somewhere in the house say, “Gracias.” The one paragraph piece ends with the line, “That was one of those days I remember.” So here, the reader is given many of the themes that run through the book but they have resolved. They have gone from a self inflicted crippling isolation to a simple scene of music and togetherness. But the path between these two is anything but straight.

The journey along this path is literally a journey for many of the characters in the pieces themselves. Many of the sections of the book are titled with place names designated with highway numbers, “Haskell, Arkansas (Highway 70)”, “Williams, Arizona (Highway 40 West)”, “Alpine, Texas (Highway 90)”. But these places, many times, serve no real importance to the narrator, they are truck stops and gas stations, they are diners, where the narrator through the weight or sublimity of travel has become self reflected and introspective, is grappling with the greater understanding of his own life through the desolation of the place or in some cases the historical significance, which in many cases is tied directly to Native Americans. Though the narrator(s) are not Native American, it is the theme of the struggle for life, as it is now instituted in the American cultural mythology that Native Americans were systematically wiped out, that they were smashed to pieces by an overwhelming force that when fought against destroyed them even more, that binds the narrative voices together in an understanding of an impending doom, of a death that will wipe out the individual. And with this exploration goes the idea of simpler tribal times, as the journeyman grapples with modern life and is often seduced by the noble savage ideology in order to combat this awful destruction that is not lurking, but is waiting, often, in plain sight, in the faces of those around him, in his own face.

The doom is signified in many cases by memory. Memory is a major component of the book, through all the themes, pieces, characters, narrators, they are all linked by their memory of their lives, not haunted by individual events, but haunted by memory itself, by the life once lived, by the path gone by so far in what has been lived, and tied to the dysfunction of memory as many of the narrations have an inability to either remember with accuracy or to know that things have been forgotten, or that they are not being recalled properly, which in many of the sections is itself a certain death; that not only does the breakdown of the memory signify the onset of age and the impending end, but that as the events are remembered inaccurately, or with a tremendous effort to bring back the tiniest pieces, as is the case in “Indianapolis (Highway 74)”, where the narrator cannot recall a lover who he had lived with when she is standing in front of him, enormous existential anxiety is created that often defines the narrator’s emotional landscape.

Fathers and sons find their way into many of the sections of the book, a theme that riddles much of Shepard’s earlier fiction as many times there are sons learning how to deal with the disappointment of an inadequate father and fathers dealing with the profundity and, at times, absurdity of being a parent. A striking example comes from the piece “Bernallilo” which mimics an older piece from a previous collection, where the narrator’s father is stumbling drunk out of a bar and is struck and killed by a car. Here the father’s death is framed in his inadequacy as he has ended up a drunk and the son must forever live with it as it has cost him his father and a small psychological disorder as he explains at the end that he is now forever afraid of being blindsided by cars. The violence with which this event occurs is wrought throughout the book. And it is not a violence that spreads itself against the action of a story in order that the characters or even reader learn from it, that it has some intrinsic value as to educate us in life or mature us, but is rather presented as simple fact, as what is a gross base part of life that has no value in growing consciousness but is simply one other thing that we as humans must digest. In dealing with this more specifically there are two running stories through out the book, though in their sections, they are more lyrical than narrative. One is of a decapitated head found on the side of the road and the other is of a mercenary. In the decapitated head thread the sections themselves do not have much violence but violence is the backdrop as the head had been violently removed from the body and the head, through an all permeating voice, gains the aid of a passerby to bring him to a lake and toss him in. It is the aftermath of the violence, the consuming horror of the ripples from the event that is concerned here as at first the passerby must deal with what is happening, then the narration moves on to the head itself and his concerns and regrets. The mercenary is straight violence, where this man is hired to kill a man, skin his face off his skull and bring it back to his contractors. He does. Later the mercenary becomes more self reflective, but never about the way he makes a living, the violence, as that is the sustenance of his life, not something to be derided or avoided. And between these two threads are the inevitable arguments and confrontations that lace every type of relationship of a tough and violent world where Shepard often delves into the historical past, of the battles and destruction that have shaped the landscape that is being driven through, observed and examined.

But the book is not all hardship and destruction, destitute anxiety and a meaninglessness that must be dealt with the best way a person can, there is also the triumph. Many of the pieces are lyrical, many without a specific narrative direction that lets the event portrayed unfold in what, at times, is close to being imagistic poetry. Here there are birds and rivers, there is the moon and memory is not something shot full of holes as it fades away, it is something not even considered as the world, many times with music, played or listened to, is exposed as a thing not destroying us with an inane and senseless self destructing rage, but a place, like many of those places along the highways of the American west, of a beauty that comes on unfathomable and satisfies some undefined thing in all of us.

SUSAN SHERMAN

INTERVIEWED BY BONNY FINBERG
BF: Why do you think so many activists become less directly involved in political activism as they get older? Some, like Tom Hayden have entered mainstream politics, others have maintained a revolutionary stance in response to politics and the world at large, but many have retreated from the front lines. Where are they? What are they doing?

SS: I don’t think it’s true many have become less directly involved. Maybe a handful of the more famous activists, and that might not even be true. We just don’t hear about them. I was at a memorial recently for Grace Paley that was held by the War Resister’s League and the Women’s Pentagon Action and it was full of people who were active in the Sixties, many even before, and are still struggling for social justice in many areas from mainstream politics to the anti-war movement to local struggles for fair housing. Much of the really important struggle takes place on a local level and that is just not “sexy” enough for the media to report. Also there has obviously been a concerted effort after the Sixties not to cover progressive politics or activity.

BF: How do you see your own activism manifested in your life now?

SS: In a number of ways. Through my writing, teaching, working with our union—we are affiliated with the UAW—at Parsons School of Design and Eugene Lang College, both part of The New School, and through social justice work both community and nation based at Middle Church, a wonderfully diverse socially progressive community. And of course any demonstration that comes up, although that is harder for me now because of an injury which makes it difficult for me to walk.

BF: What issues are pivotal for you at this time? What about China and Tibet, for example? What do you see as the most important things relentless and passionate young activists should be putting their energy into? Do you see any indications that there is a youth movement? Is it a healthy one? Considering the state of things in the world at present, what do you think is necessary to create an atmosphere that will encourage more radical activism today—How much worse does it have to get? Or is it a case of depleted energies and catastrophe/issue fatigue?

SS: We hardly have to create an atmosphere that will encourage more radical activism given the situation in Iraq and the economic, environmental and social problems surrounding us today. I think that activism is all around us. Yes, it’s important to support Tibet, of course, but we have issues here at home that are vital—hurricane Katrina, survivors of which are still suffering and are scattered all over the US, the devastation in the Midwest, and the ever present issues of HIV/AIDS, sexism, racism, homophobia, economic injustice. As well as the myriad issues around immigration. Globalism is an overriding concern if these other issues are to be adequately addressed. There are all kinds of indications that a healthy youth movement is alive and well—and a healthy older movement too. The Obama campaign regardless of the nuances was built to a large extent on the need young people feel for greater social equity, for a life that has more meaning than just the number of objects you can acquire. We were lucky in a way in the Fifties and Sixties because products were not so slick and compelling and advertising was not so insidious and widespread. On the other hand while it is still in our hands we can use technology like the internet—just look at the influence of blogs, Youtube, organizations like Move On. I think people should put their energy into whatever issues move, excite, touch them most. I would recommend magazines like Colorlines, which focus on young people of color and the struggles they are engaged in at the present if you want to know what is happening now.
BF: What direction does Cuba seem to be headed in from your point of view and how do you assess the “success” of the revolution?

SS: Again another very complex issue that would take a lot more than a simple answer to even begin to do justice to. When I was in Cuba in the Sixties—my last trip was in 1992—the Cubans liked to say that the rebellion succeeded in 1959 but that the revolution was an on-going process. I think we have a tendency here to think of things still in terms of beginning, middle, end instead of accepting the fact that all struggle is a process and a hugely complex one at that and ongoing. For specific information, analysis of the situation in Cuba I highly recommend a book by Margaret Randall, who figures prominently in my memoir, which will be published by Rutgers University Fall 2008 titled To Change the World: My Years in Cuba. Margaret lived in Cuba for ten years during the revolution’s formative period and has much more information and analysis about the situation then and now.

BF: Can you talk about Marcuse and Hegel’s ideas on individual choice and self-determination based on reason and rational thought— what kind of forces they were for you and those around you, in trying to build a world based on these principles rather than accepting the forces and facts of life as “the way things are,” etc?

SS: I’m not sure how much Marcuse and Hegel were on people’s minds that were struggling to fight against the many threads of repression and violence in the Sixties, particularly in the United States—which I think is the period you were referring to in this question. The catalyst would be found more in the energy and idealism of the Civil Rights Movement. The recognition that underneath the surface there were layers and layers of injustice that had to be addressed. Young people joined others already engaged in struggle who felt that two cars in every garage was not the motivation that moved them, the future they looked forward to. Marcuse’s book, The One Dimensional Man, was important because it laid out the vacuousness and emptiness of the period. Marx, particularly early Marx and Marx’s analysis of capitalism and his incorporation of Hegel (turned on his head) into his theory of historical determinism were more widely read and discussed, particularly in respect to the resolution of contradiction—the old thesis, antithesis, synthesis, negation of negation! A more pertinent question today I think—not putting down the gentlemen you name—would be the growth of media and advertising and its subliminal appeal to emotional needs that extend from the smallest parts of our lives—the toothpaste we buy—to electing our most important officials.
BF: Can you talk about the sources of memory for this book? You mention the destroyed correspondence and pictures necessitated by the need to protect people from government surveillance?

SS: We actually never took many photos in the Sixties because we never knew how they would be used and I did destroy a great deal of my correspondence in the middle Seventies when women from the women’s movement were being targeted by the grand juries. That is a whole other story. Fortunately I kept letters from Margaret Randall who I had an extensive correspondence with during the Sixties. I actually had to go to the NYU library to get my corresponding letters to her—my letters are archived there with in El Corno Emplumado collection. I had some essays and articles, which were published at the time, from which I could get valuable specifics about my trips to England and Cuba. I did some research. But for the most part relying on my memory wasn’t really a problem since the incidents in the book for the most part were highlights of those years I wasn’t likely to forget!

BF: What do you feel was left out of this book that in, retrospect, you wish you’d included?
SS: I would have liked to have taken the book to at least 1975 to include the women’s and gay liberation movements, a trip to Chile, the end of the Vietnam War and in 1975 a very important summer session at Sagaris, a feminist institute where I served on the faculty. But I felt that, as it was, there was a lot of information packed into one book. Who knows maybe some day I’ll write America’s Child Part Two! To repeat what I wrote in the last chapter of the book I feel what we call the Sixties really extended from the late Fifties until 1975 and that in actuality that period, even if extended, has to be viewed within a continuum of struggle in the United States. It cannot be compartmentalized.
BF: Yes, I completely agree. I think books such as yours can serve as inspiration and hope for each generation of activists that come along to continue the struggle. I hope America’s Child Part Two is on your front burner.

An Interview with André Martinez-Reed:

“Homage to Artists”

André Martinez-Reed, besides being a percussionist with Cecil Taylor in his early years, is also a painter as exhibited at the Henry Gregg Gallery in DUMBO, Brooklyn, from January 28 to March 15, 2009. His show entitled “Homage” is a reflection of inspired portraits of various friends, well-known artists and other iconic portraits. The centered portraits are trigger points for other images and landscapes that appear in the background. 

His 11 titles begin with the word “Homage to”… with individual paintings dedicated to DaVinci, Courbet, Degas, Medici, El Greco, Monet, Goya, Francis Bacon, George Washington and Justin Michael Nygaard” The last name is a young adolescent who had tragically died and is titled “Spirit in the Sky”.   In this painting, André is capturing the boy’s innocent spirit and musical interests as depicted by energetic yellow and grey-blue tones of violent euphoric clouds flourishing around the 19 year old boy’s portrait.  Upon hearing the boy’s unusual rare diseased death, André pictorially describes his ascendancy to heaven in this painting. 

André’s painterly style allows an open interpretation of “other” images to enter the canvas whereby the viewer‘s focus become focused on the developed vague images surrounding the centered portrait. These images or shapes might be the artist’s muse or the source of inspiration. As André paint the various portraits apparitions emerges. 

In “Homage to DaVinci’s “Mona Lisa”: André describes images not realized previously. The painting is a contemporary rendition of a woman’s portrait in blue green background with vertical and horizontal strokes criss-crossing. On the right side of the portrait of Mona Lisa is a faint image of DaVinci’s well-known iconic self-portrait according to André but I see a self-portrait of André. 

Standing in front the painting “Homage to Fritz Scholder” or  “the Spirit Walker-Eyes of the Hawk”, André explains their overlapping lives for being Latinos with blonde and blue eyes of Native, South, and Central American descent. However, Fritz also has Germanic ancestry. This painting has red and greenish tones that merge to shadowy earth tones with many images surrounding the rendered portrait of a hollowed-eye face with a valley painted on his chest suggesting home. André indicates a howling wolf on the viewer’s right side where spirits are arising while the lower section is murky indicating a “landscape of one’s beautiful land slowly but surely are disappearing.” André optimistically believes that “whatever was stolen would be returned to the rightful master. It is universal according to the law of karma.”  

The next painting “Homage to Degas-In the Shadows I Live” (48×48), 2008 depicts a masked ballerina on her left toes poised with arms and legs in opposite directions precariously supported by a male partner suggesting Olga Preobrajenska and Rudolf Nureyev. The painting is in blue monochromes, ranging from white blue to black blue horizontal and vertical strips. This painting might be incomplete because there were no apparitions in the background. 

Moving on to the next painting, André called it “Homage to the Medicis-Grace”, 2008 (48 x 60), the well-known patrons of Michelangelo and DaVinci. The portrait is a French bewigged, court figure that stares out of the canvas and with André’s broad-brush strokes, one can decipher characteristics image of a face bigger than the portrait streaked in red and blue painterly strokes. André says it to be a “replica of Michelangelo’s statues as part of the whole experience,” and where one foot is deeply in the past and the other running into the future but gracefully.” Thus, the additional title “Grace”. 

André continued to talk about how he constantly sees figures reappearing in his paintings which “is truly magical” and to him, “It lives. Thus becoming a living entity.” He quotes Dali, “If you understand your painting before you paint it, might as well not paint it.” 

In the next painting, André began a Mona Lisa but ended up doing a portrait of her Master, DaVinci, who looks like an old sage. On the DaVinci’s left, André describes an ancient Chinese figure signifying “the oldest art form” and a civilization as old as Mesopotamia. 

André uses various mediums, of layered oils, inks, varnish, chalks lead, and Venetian plasters to capture the “other” world.  In using these mediums, André describes it as “channeling’ where he is in a hypnotic, energetic state as verified by his broad, quick, dry brush strokes. 

He explains how Jeffery Wright, the actor who performed as Basquiat, would get into character by “surrendering and criss crossing, allowing the self becomes a vessel”. Often musicians and dancers of the Caribbean’s interact in a frenzy of ecstasy to the rhythms of Orisha and thus are infuse with “other” spirits. This form of religion is “Santeria”. 

André does not plan his paintings but follows “just a feeling”. During the interview, André explains the Roberto Silva exercises that utilize the right brain for drawing and eventually leads to ESP. He is an artist possessed and delving into the spiritual world whether via aural music or visually as a painter and photographer. André’s paintings reflect his experience or communication referencing to the portrait painted on that particular canvas.  He explains “his techniques used are unanswerable” as “hypnotized” and unable to tell how they were exactly painted. … Using thousands of strokes and techniques  … a journey of the next beat, the next note …cadence next explosive section”. … often working on each canvas about five at a time simultaneously as if having conversations with the portraits.  

André explains, “That becomes part of the paranormal.” Il billa testimo, in Hispanic, means connecting with the spiritual world or connecting with your ancestors. This is normal for us but for others it makes them nervous.”  (chucklechuckle)  

In addition to painting, André exhibited some of his photographs that depict “other” unusual imageries especially one entitled “The Miracle”. “Another appearance” he said and did not go much in explanatory depth but referred to a photo of his kitchen floor that has a boy’s facial reflection with several ominous dark figures that André states “some story trying to unveil itself”, (another mystery). 

Another photo is of a friend’s bathroom wall taken as a ”self-portrait”. It was difficult to see the photographer’s image but there is a faint outline of a photographer among the dark red and shadowy tiles that suggest menacing eerie shapes and forms. On the side, a faint lion’s head is discerned. These are just a few photographs from André’s “Spirit Hunter” series. 

Overall, André’s backgrounds are just important as the foreground portrait and from the viewer’s perspective, he/she might see another figure, image, or just a colored wall.  Most likely, it will be another image. 

This artist’s purpose is to paint for future generations and keeping alive homages to the artist and his/her muse.

Reviewed by Susan L. Yung

 BF: Why do you think so many activists become less directly involved in political activism as they get older? Some, like Tom Hayden have entered mainstream politics, others have maintained a revolutionary stance in response to politics and the world at large, but many have retreated from the front lines. Where are they? What are they doing?

SS: I don’t think it’s true many have become less directly involved. Maybe a handful of the more famous activists, and that might not even be true. We just don’t hear about them. I was at a memorial recently for Grace Paley that was held by the War Resister’s League and the Women’s Pentagon Action and it was full of people who were active in the Sixties, many even before, and are still struggling for social justice in many areas from mainstream politics to the anti-war movement to local struggles for fair housing. Much of the really important struggle takes place on a local level and that is just not “sexy” enough for the media to report. Also there has obviously been a concerted effort after the Sixties not to cover progressive politics or activity.

BF: How do you see your own activism manifested in your life now?

SS: In a number of ways. Through my writing, teaching, working with our union—we are affiliated with the UAW—at Parsons School of Design and Eugene Lang College, both part of The New School, and through social justice work both community and nation based at Middle Church, a wonderfully diverse socially progressive community. And of course any demonstration that comes up, although that is harder for me now because of an injury which makes it difficult for me to walk.

BF: What issues are pivotal for you at this time? What about China and Tibet, for example? What do you see as the most important things relentless and passionate young activists should be putting their energy into? Do you see any indications that there is a youth movement? Is it a healthy one? Considering the state of things in the world at present, what do you think is necessary to create an atmosphere that will encourage more radical activism today—How much worse does it have to get? Or is it a case of depleted energies and catastrophe/issue fatigue?

SS: We hardly have to create an atmosphere that will encourage more radical activism given the situation in Iraq and the economic, environmental and social problems surrounding us today. I think that activism is all around us. Yes, it’s important to support Tibet, of course, but we have issues here at home that are vital—hurricane Katrina, survivors of which are still suffering and are scattered all over the US, the devastation in the Midwest, and the ever present issues of HIV/AIDS, sexism, racism, homophobia, economic injustice. As well as the myriad issues around immigration. Globalism is an overriding concern if these other issues are to be adequately addressed. There are all kinds of indications that a healthy youth movement is alive and well—and a healthy older movement too. The Obama campaign regardless of the nuances was built to a large extent on the need young people feel for greater social equity, for a life that has more meaning than just the number of objects you can acquire. We were lucky in a way in the Fifties and Sixties because products were not so slick and compelling and advertising was not so insidious and widespread. On the other hand while it is still in our hands we can use technology like the internet—just look at the influence of blogs, Youtube, organizations like Move On. I think people should put their energy into whatever issues move, excite, touch them most. I would recommend magazines like Colorlines, which focus on young people of color and the struggles they are engaged in at the present if you want to know what is happening now.

BF: What direction does Cuba seem to be headed in from your point of view and how do you assess the “success” of the revolution?

SS: Again another very complex issue that would take a lot more than a simple answer to even begin to do justice to. When I was in Cuba in the Sixties—my last trip was in 1992—the Cubans liked to say that the rebellion succeeded in 1959 but that the revolution was an on-going process. I think we have a tendency here to think of things still in terms of beginning, middle, end instead of accepting the fact that all struggle is a process and a hugely complex one at that and ongoing. For specific information, analysis of the situation in Cuba I highly recommend a book by Margaret Randall, who figures prominently in my memoir, which will be published by Rutgers University Fall 2008 titled To Change the World: My Years in Cuba. Margaret lived in Cuba for ten years during the revolution’s formative period and has much more information and analysis about the situation then and now.

BF: Can you talk about Marcuse and Hegel’s ideas on individual choice and self-determination based on reason and rational thought— what kind of forces they were for you and those around you, in trying to build a world based on these principles rather than accepting the forces and facts of life as “the way things are,” etc?

SS: I’m not sure how much Marcuse and Hegel were on people’s minds that were struggling to fight against the many threads of repression and violence in the Sixties, particularly in the United States—which I think is the period you were referring to in this question. The catalyst would be found more in the energy and idealism of the Civil Rights Movement. The recognition that underneath the surface there were layers and layers of injustice that had to be addressed. Young people joined others already engaged in struggle who felt that two cars in every garage was not the motivation that moved them, the future they looked forward to. Marcuse’s book, The One Dimensional Man, was important because it laid out the vacuousness and emptiness of the period. Marx, particularly early Marx and Marx’s analysis of capitalism and his incorporation of Hegel (turned on his head) into his theory of historical determinism were more widely read and discussed, particularly in respect to the resolution of contradiction—the old thesis, antithesis, synthesis, negation of negation! A more pertinent question today I think—not putting down the gentlemen you name—would be the growth of media and advertising and its subliminal appeal to emotional needs that extend from the smallest parts of our lives—the toothpaste we buy—to electing our most important officials.

BF: Can you talk about the sources of memory for this book? You mention the destroyed correspondence and pictures necessitated by the need to protect people from government surveillance?

SS: We actually never took many photos in the Sixties because we never knew how they would be used and I did destroy a great deal of my correspondence in the middle Seventies when women from the women’s movement were being targeted by the grand juries. That is a whole other story. Fortunately I kept letters from Margaret Randall who I had an extensive correspondence with during the Sixties. I actually had to go to the NYU library to get my corresponding letters to her—my letters are archived there with in El Corno Emplumado collection. I had some essays and articles, which were published at the time, from which I could get valuable specifics about my trips to England and Cuba. I did some research. But for the most part relying on my memory wasn’t really a problem since the incidents in the book for the most part were highlights of those years I wasn’t likely to forget!

BF: What do you feel was left out of this book that in, retrospect, you wish you’d included?

SS: I would have liked to have taken the book to at least 1975 to include the women’s and gay liberation movements, a trip to Chile, the end of the Vietnam War and in 1975 a very important summer session at Sagaris, a feminist institute where I served on the faculty. But I felt that, as it was, there was a lot of information packed into one book. Who knows maybe some day I’ll write America’s Child Part Two! To repeat what I wrote in the last chapter of the book I feel what we call the Sixties really extended from the late Fifties until 1975 and that in actuality that period, even if extended, has to be viewed within a continuum of struggle in the United States. It cannot be compartmentalized.

BF: Yes, I completely agree. I think books such as yours can serve as inspiration and hope for each generation of activists that come along to continue the struggle. I hope America’s Child Part Two is on your front burner.

Mario Vargas Llosa
Travesuras de la niña mala/The Mischiefs of the Bad Girl
Lectura en la 92nd “Y” de Nueva York
15 de octubre de 2007
Por Linda Morales Caballero

Mario Vargas Llosa, el escritor hispano-peruano de reconocida trayectoria  dio una lectura de su más reciente novela Travesuras de la niña mala el día 15 de octubre en el  Kaufmann Concert Hall de la YMCA sobre la calle 92 en Manhattan, más conocido como la “Y” en Nueva York.
Después de la bienvenida al evento por el representante del director de la Y, vino la presentación del Sr. Jonathan Galassi, su editor, quien anunció que luego de la lectura, el escritor respondería a algunas preguntas formuladas por el público mediante tarjetas y firmaría libros en otro salón. Mario Vargas Llosa hizo entonces su entrada al escenario frente a una sala llena por una audiencia de habla inglesa y castellana, más o menos a partes iguales, quien le brindó una bienvenida con efusivos aplausos.
Vargas Llosa, Vestido de riguroso traje negro y lentes en mano explicó que haría una lectura bilingüe del libro traducido al inglés por Edith Grossman, a quién elogió por su trabajo. Acto seguido, comenzó en español con una breve lectura del primer capítulo de la novela, dónde Ricardito, el protagonista, y la niña mala, Lily, hacen su primera aparición. A continuación y en un inglés de marcado acento hispano hizo una larga lectura del capítulo II del libro.
Vargas Llosa bebiendo sorbitos de agua, de cuando en cuando, llevó al público por las páginas de su más reciente novela. Los asistentes rieron celebrando su sentido del humor, lo que  hace pensar que: o Vargas Llosa ha desarrollado un sentido del humor internacional o bien logra hacer entrar a los lectores en su mundo.
Cuando la lectura en inglés comenzó a resultar un poco extensa algunos asistentes se retiraron mientras otros comenzaron a distraerse, especialmente un grupo de muchachos de la escuela quienes tenían reservada gran parte de la platea. Pero Vargas Llosa no pareció enterarse si bien tal vez le produjo alguna distracción ya que, a pesar de la fluidez con que leía, a partir de este punto tuvo que repetir la entonación de algunas palabras.
Sin embargo llegada la hora de las preguntas, toda la audiencia (que seguía siendo la mayoría) volvió a concentrarse:
¿Ud. cree que los libros deben entretener?
A lo que respondió que sí, que si no entretenían eran un fracaso. “Deben atrapar al lector o tratar de hacerlo”, añadió.
¿Fue difícil escribir Travesuras de la niña mala?
“Siempre es difícil para mí” dijo, “a veces doloroso”. Explicó que un libro puede llevarle entre dos y tres años. Comentó que poco a poco se “infecta” de su atmósfera “y es entonces cuando me envuelvo”. Y confesó, “Al principio estoy distante”
¿Re-inventar a Madame Bovary lo inspiró?
“No, para nada. Tuve esta idea (la suya) por mucho tiempo. Quería escribir una novela romántica moderna, en un mundo dónde las cosas han cambiado mucho” Y aclaró que éste es ahora un mundo dónde las mujeres pueden tomar decisiones. La idea de la novela romántica se sumó al recuerdo de los lugares donde el escritor vivió y quiso utilizar su memoria histórica y personal. Aclaró que en la novela la parte del romance era la que tenía más ficción.
¿Vivir en el extranjero ha influido en su trabajo?
“Por su puesto, yo no sería el escritor que soy si no hubiera vivido en el extranjero” Dijo que sería un escritor de todas formas, pero uno diferente. Agregó que había sido influenciado tanto en la metodología que usa como en el tener unos horizontes más amplios que a su vez lo habían llevado a un mejor entendimiento de las relaciones humanas y del Perú.
“Fue en Francia que descubrí que era latinoamericano. Yo no me reconocía como un latino, me sentía como un peruano que deseaba ser un escritor en Francia”. Añadió que fue allí, en París, dónde descubrió a los otros integrantes del boom Latinoamericano y mencionó entre otros a Carpentier, Borges y Cortazar. “Esto enriqueció mi vida” dijo, y añadió que Octavio Paz llamaba a Paris “la capital de los escritores latinoamericanos” Atribuyó esta falta de reconocimiento a la ausencia de comunicación entre los países latinoamericanos.
“Yo respiré los años de la utopía” dijo, tal vez para aclarar su simpatía por los temas de izquierda de esa época. “Era prácticamente imposible no ser seducido por estas ideas. Entonces descubrí que los mitos y las ideas no eran parte del mundo real. Creíamos que la literatura tomaba parte en la transformación del mundo político y esto nos daba energía. Hasta que en los años 60’s las cosas comenzaron a cambiar”.
¿Es Ricardo (el protagonista de la novela) un patético, un romántico o ambas cosas?
“Mirándolo de lejos es un mediocre que solamente quiere vivir en Paris, eso llena sus expectativas. Pero por el tipo de amor que siente por la niña mala él vive una aventura extraordinaria a nivel personal”. Sobre la niña mala dijo, con una sonrisa de satisfacción, que ella era muy diferente, que la vida para ella era luchar, que era feroz para sobrevivir, alguien que vista de lejos podía ser condenada pero de cerca se volvía un ser humano mucho más creativo e interesante (que Ricardito)
La pregunta final no pudo estar mejor seleccionada a propósito de que la novela habla de lugares, moda, bebidas y comidas:
¿Qué elegiría Ud. si supiera que va a comer su última cena?
“¡Si supiera que esta es mi última cena no podría comer nada!” terminó diciendo y cerrando la presentación con un sentido del humor que todos celebraron riendo y con  muchos aplausos.

Luego de concluida la lectura se pasó a un salón donde una fila muy  larga de lectores esperó a que Vargas Llosa les firmara sus libros.

Nota: La sección de preguntas y respuestas fue llevada a cabo en inglés, para traerlas al público hispano parlante estas han sido traducidas lo más fielmente posible por la periodista.

En la Y de Nueva York

Presentación de Travesuras de la niña mala

Octubre de 2007

Foto, cortesía de Elizabeth Matamoros