Past midnight. I'm listening at Adrianne Lenker's performance at the Tiny desk (home) series with a bitter taste in my mouth. "What a dream it was, I almost couldn't wake because" this amazing singer is playing at the Cedar Lake Cultural center for only $25 bucks, but everything is sold out. Repeat, rejoice those who got their tickets early. For those left behind, come and join me. Let's grief together tonight.
Minneapolis, Minnesota has a color. It's ultraviolet purple. It has to be purple, the embodiment of Prince's legacy. So much purple, like a living stream pooring all streets from the northeast art district to uptown. We are socked in purple as we rush holding hands for a concert night at First Avenue. Our step on pools of cold purple water, and then, our clothes felt heavy as those are already socked in purple as well. Prince is still alive.There is always music in town.
Suni Lee is the first American Hmong to become an Olympic gold medal winner. Raise your glasses and join me in chant. To celebrate her, Mwene Kajunju, a local artist from Liberia, painted a mural for the gold medal triumph. A fun piece of work to visit in St. Paul, Minnesota. The mural features Suni Lee in black and white colors with the exception of the golden medal that she holds and kisses with joy. "I made the country number one. I did it for my family, and to inspire all the little kids in my community." These are the words of Suni Lee honoring the legacy and future of the Hmong community in Minnesota, the second greatest settlement in the United States after California.
Now, now is a Minnesotan indie-rock band originally formed in Blaine, MN by Cacie Dalager (vocals, guitar, keyboard) and Bradley Hale (drums, backing vocals). I feel someone should make a movie of them, not only for the quality of their music and the personality of their members but their beginning in a high school marching band, where these two musicians met. This would be the ultimate Midwestern music blockbuster. I love it.
Stan Lee co-created superhero characters in comics like Daredevil, Spiderman, Blackpanter, Scarlet Witch, Fantastic Four, Black Widow, etc., but I was surprised that he was also involved with real-life heroes too. This is 2012. Stan Lee starring tonight at his own show Academy of Heroes. Surprise, surprise. A Minneapolis vigilante appears to save the day. Razorhawk. In Stan Lee's words: "I'm impressed. From a professional wrestler to being a crime fighter. To me that's impressive."
By IASP.
Confession time. I was drunk when I made it to the Artcrank fest, a wonderful collection of graphic art around biking. A thousand-dollar idea, you may ask. Don't get too excited. To set also an Octoberfest before the Artcrank event was like a trap for unconcerned travelers as me. I just wanted to enjoy some art without getting wasted! I cannot write a full recount of events of that day, but Coralette Damne's art is one of the few things I kept.
By IASP.
Walking around, lying on the grass. The spoonbridge and cherry sculpture starring tonight as the finest piece of dessert. Dessert? How did a eccentric background for Instagram become Minneapolis' coat of arms? The silliest conceivable one.
Claes Oldenburg and Coosje van Bruggen's work was finished and placed at the sculpture garden back in 1988. A giant stainless steal and aluminum plate of dessert. No doubts. The main role of the area taken by the spoonbridge and cherry sculpture. Iconic, no fear of fame. What were they thinking? I wonder. People adore it, in fact, hundreds perhaps thousands of selfies are taken with cherry and spoon as backgrounds.
The size of the cherry and spoon makes me feel like Z, the worker ant in the also iconic movie of Woody Allen. From having a nice picnic at the sculpture garden to becoming an ant rejoiced with dinning food hundred times your size. Rejoice, rejoice.
The spoonbridge and cherry sculpture evokes Louis XIV's dinning etiquette -according to an untraceable article cited by Wikipedia. The piece matches the goofy and silly vibe of Minneapolis, that's settled. The same community that likes to freeze jeans into sculptures to model them in hilarious positions every winter (if you haven't done it yet, please, be my guess). Further, in the winter season, this sculpture turns into a mouthful of ice cream sundae, one of the artists claims. I agree.
Some early designs involved a dragon shaped viking boat. That could have been badass, a viking boat at the side of the road, though, very boring. This idea was abandoned quite early. We like silly things and having the Walker Art Museum grants you a context of academic and post-modern art which desperately asks to be bullied. Having a cherry over a spoon is hilarious. I wonder who was the one rising the hand in the board meeting and said, "I feel more represented by a giant dessert than a viking boat." Calling this a 180-degree turn falls short. As a newcomer, passing by the spoonbridge and cherry sculpture brings me joy and sometimes a good laugh imagining myself as a little ant.
You can find the spoonbridge and cherry sculpture at the sculpture garden of Minneapolis, Minnesota.
Oh, red cherry, my merry cherry, don't
stop rolling. Fear of god, giant spoon
Who ate the last cherry?
Being out of cherries, that's scary
No cherry left to eat with my spoon.
By IASP.
Revolts and uprisings brew at best with art. Creative engine, bewitching powerhouse. There is no revolution without poetry, we say in Chile. The 10/18 Chilean uprising prompted the recapture of public spaces as proposing alternatives to areas that were given and erroneously settled in stone. Our progenitors gifted us with the General Baquedano's monument. The revolt "politely" turned them down. Although half the country celebrates the removal of the statue while the rest weeps in agony, we reopened a forgotten venue of dialogue between Santiago and its residents.
I cannot be but fascinated by the removal of the general Baquedano's monument resulting from the ongoing Chilean unrest that started in 2019. A tale, yes, a tale of this empty square that welcomes a debate of what should be raised in lieu of General Baquedano's monument. An opened space like an empty white page about to be colored. It's time for consciously rethink, rebuild, rethink, repeat, rebuild, discuss, rethink, and repeat. Our city is in bad shape. You can tell that by just looking at the consequences of two years of revolts and a year an half of COVID. I'm still optimistic of what the future will bring. We relearned to talk about our cornerstones; we dream with reshaping these spaces. Whatever is placed instead, it's a victory for us as a society.
To rethink our public spaces means to devote ourselves to our city in a reflective exercise. We reinvigorate our bonds with our surroundings. What purpose serve these cornerstones of Santiago or any place? Memory, story, and identity. The best monument brings something that shall never be forgotten. For instance, the ground zero in NYC reminds us of a ripped tragedy, but also a place were we can commute and grieve together. Public spaces embody this kind of power. Educational, sports, entertainment, trade, community building, etc. Hundreds, thousand of purposes.
Picture by Leandro Crovetto
But General Baquedano is alone on his horse. Neither benefit nor goal to be achieved. Meaningless means timeless and also motionless in this case. In other words, this public space was dead. It's like almost dying twice, perhaps, by the time when the government grew tired to protect his legacy. Don't take me wrong, I grew up with heroic stories of the the Pacific war. Yet, General Baquedano felt like a tourist in the former Plaza Italia. He deserves better. Isolated from the very country that he chose to protect with his life. We can do better. Send him home but far from Italia or Dignidad square, whatsoever.
Certainly, there are some attractive proposals to replace general Baquedano's statue. My favorite is a monument to Gabriela Mistral, perhaps one of our most underrated poets to this day. To Gabriela Mistral, our first Nobel prize in poetry. An elementary and secondary teacher deeply involved in advancing the educational systems of Chile and Mexico until her poetry made her world-like famous (Let wind and salt and sand/ drive you crazy, mix you up/ so you can't tell/ East from West,/ or mother from child,/ like fish in the sea./ And on the day, at the hour,/ find only me.) A teacher who really embodies the republican values and the struggles of the middle class. A poet, who can lead a revolution and the changes that are needed so badly with hope and optimism. Whatever project we choose for our nation, we need some poetry on it.
What about Violeta Parra? Let's dream high. The sky is the limit. Chilean composer, world famous folk singer, and social activist, best known for traveling throughout Chile to record the breadth of Chilean folk music, but to really recapture the core of our folklore. Violeta Parra gave us a new soul. We owe her everything (Thanks to life, which has given me so much./ It gave me laughter and it gave me tears./ With them I distinguish happiness from pain./ The two elements that make up my song./ And your song, as well, which is the same song. And everyone's song, which is my very song.)
Perhaps having Violeta Parra at the center of Italia or Dignidad square (again whatsoever you may call it), a meeting point of the ongoing changes, can remind us that we can build something new and beautiful from our diverse population but always walking together, hand by hand. That's a monument that we need badly in these difficult times.
By IASP.
It's like releasing a stream of emotion. Untold. To find an art style that strikes a chord in your heart. Sumi-e (traditional Japanese ink painting) is my first serious attempt to break into art as an adult, perhaps what led to this blog. Yet, creativity is boundless, wide open. To some degree, Susan Davies' work reminds that.
By IASP.
Once Upon a Crime. It's dinner time. A room packed with wealthy people. Tonight is the one we were waiting for. The host is serving this three-course meal. From glass to glass, the finest wine runs out as small talks become heated arguments just like bowling water. Then, lights off. Someone next to me screams amid the confusion, I guessed. When the light is finally back, the sight of a sharp knife stabbed on the back of the host's corpse shock us all. Yes, finally, everyone is satisfied for what we were craving for. Once Upon a Crime, the book shop specialized in mystery books located in Minneapolis, Minnesota.
By IASP.
Two Brazilian siblings and a Minnesotan joined like a latte mixture of Brazilian beans and local milk. Starring Fernando and Humberto Campana meet Gary Johnson. Downtown is taken again by more renown artists from Brazil as Eduardo Kobra's emblematic mural of Bob Dylan. What a fantastic time to be alive. To walk and find these hidden landmarks all over the Twin Cities. Minneapolis is becoming a bright and colorful carnival ride that never ends.
The Brazilian siblings' Zig Zag urban intervention is an intriguing proposal for a public space, perhaps too greedy. Displaying techniques to catch Brazil's multicultural carnival spirit. The Capana siblings aim to create a new public space, a market. However, it remains empty to this day.
The most characteristic feature is the roof made of straps of multiple colors leaving space for the light to create shadow patterns like a forest in which the sun finds the way between leaves and branches to draw unique shapes on the floor. Shapeshifting. This dance between shadow and light may never reach the motionless state of death.
I took pictures of different times of the day to embrace the Campana's proposal (below). I can attest that I was never able to take exactly the same picture twice. There were so many factors inter-playing: weather, light, time, people crossing the place, etc. A shapeshifting space a few steps of downtown. That cannot be unintentional.
Yet, the original purpose behind the project seems unaccomplished. This space was designed for becoming a public space for gathering, trading, in other words, community. None of these functions seems to be fulfilled by this project. To be fair, this space invites for all these things and more. The location and design is uncontested. Day after day, the image of a crowded and colorful market breaks into my mind amidst the roof straps being lifted by the pillars at both sides. Just to imagine an artist selling his/her paintings at the spot makes me shivering. Would that day come? We are left without answers.
Again, the Campana's work is thrilling. The use of unconventional materials with clean and shaped designs is unique. To find a common ground between opposite forces is a brilliant exhbition of technique and effort. To think that one of the Campana is not even an architect or designer but an attorney is encouraging. I believe there are reasons beyond the project itself why this spaces has not been recaptured by the community. The space is welcoming. Fact. Perhaps only time will bring an answer.
Another idea assaults my mind. Opposite thoughts. What if the Campana siblings brought a different gift? Yes, I do thing that. The market was solely the first gift. Instead, their second gift is a new sight of the skyline. I mean, what's the best way to enter Minneapolis? That's a fundamental question, and in my opinion, we lacked some sort of Arch of Triumph to guide us through Hennepin avenue and the main streets. I don't believe there was a straight answer before the Zig Zag because from which angle we could spot the most marvelous angle of the city.
But we were given an answer, more like a second gift from the Campana siblings. You can start from Loring Park and walk -not too fast, but not too slow- heading to downtown. Half the way, you will encounter the Zig Zag, a kaleidoscopic and colorful arch of triumph. Yet, the arch is not only a door but also a frame made of shapes, colors, and lights.
There is more. What if the Campana siblings also nailed it with a third gift. Shapes, colors, light, and shadows. The Zig Zag is not solely a frame but an aspiration. The carnival is not what we find but what we wear. An aspiration what we dream for the Twin Cities. The brightest of the future. It is not a coincidence that the Pride finishes at Loring Park.
When you spot all these landmarks around the Twin Cities, you begin to wonder. What are these kaleidoscopic colors being painted at any corner or wall? The Twin Cities is slowly moving to become a never-ending carnival in which everyone is welcomed. That's the aspiration and true gift of the Capana siblings (I wanna hope).
By IASP.
"Attention sacred ancient knowledge ahead," as one hears from a motionless whisper, though, written above the entrance of an unheard alley. This is Minneapolis, Minnesota. Just a few aimless steps later across streets I've never swept before, the kraken appears in front of me. That's how I just found the outstanding work of the muralist Adam Turman.
By IASP.
Entering the artist Candice Lin's "Seeping, Rotting, Resting, Weeping" is the closest experience to becoming Alice in Wonderland. Perhaps one of the first Alice's Wonderland drafts to be more precise. The one in which you attend a tea party with white rabbits puking at each other's mouths. Mr. Cheshire Cat doesn't stop staring at you because he suspects you're planning to steal his meth. Yes, the one -he claims- makes him invisible. While, in my opinion, this draft is the best, it never got the approval of a single publisher. I lost the point. Let's get back to Candice Lin.
Image taken by Candice Lin and Francois Ghebaly
By IASP.
For the last several days I have been staring a this piece of pottery that I brought from Pomaire, Chile. Clay is part of our handmade crafting traditions, but I never valued the worth of almost 200 hundred years of history. These are some of my thoughts after vising this crafting community.
Destiny or fate are definitely not words I tend to usher. I secretly roll my eyes every time I hear people saying something was "meant to be." But there are moments in my life that feel just right, almost divine. They touch my soul in a way I need it and I lose myself completely mesmerized by the occasion. Such a moment happened to me last weekend while driving to Iowa to visit my host family.
About four years ago, I decided to study law for the second time, this time in the United States. The prospect of starting from zero again after enduring one law school and gaining experience in Austria sounded irresistible. Who would not want to trade in sleep, free time and financial security for expensive and time-consuming legal studies, numerous part time jobs and a LOT of lifestyle headaches? What a bargain! But I had an agenda – to practice law in Minnesota.
By the time I achieved my goal, I ran on a survival mode for too long and needed a “jump start.” Turning to my passion – travel -- I just pack my car every weekend and off I go discovering the Midwest without a plan. With each swim in a river full of beavers, each invitation to camp in the garden of a local artist I talk to, each host family visit, I feel more connected and relaxed. And then the last weekend came. I took off late afternoon from Minneapolis and was slightly nervous about driving at night. But once the sun set, something magical happened. Thousands of fireflies started to illuminate my road. It felt like mystical fairies were guiding me. I have never seen anything like that before. I felt my mouth drop, eyes widen and then there was nothing -- just the calmness of the night and the enchanting flickering surrounding me. No past. No future. Only the now. After a few years of worrying about my bottomless to-do list, my brain finally turned off. I was fully present in the moment and I desperately needed that – it was meant to be!
You can imagine my surprise when fireflies greeted me at a Des Moines art gallery the next day! An artist captured the exact allurement I experienced the night before. And you can imagine my even bigger surprise when I found out that the artist was my fellow country comrade, Czech photographer Radim Schreiber. When Radim moved to Iowa, he too was fascinated by the abundance and brightness of fireflies during summer nights. Radim expresses his experience with fireflies as “being transported to another dimension.” Judges of numerous contests such as the National Geographic and the Smithsonian Photography must have felt the same when they awarded Radim with highest prizes. He exhibited his fireflies across the USA, England, Brazil, Hungary and Czech Republic.
Just like me, Radim loves shooting beautiful photographs and sharing them with people. His process almost always starts with a visual idea — a fantasy of a photograph he wants. Then he looks forward to taking the picture like a little kid. And when he finally gets the envisioned shot, he becomes ecstatic. But there are downsides to this fleeting kind of photography. When Radim does not progress in his work he is frustrated, tired, angry, and low on energy. He finds it challenging to stimulate change. It doesn't always come on its own. He has to relax into it and be open to the opportunities. I totally feel you Radim!
If you are sold on Radim’s charming photos, you can order them at https://fireflyexperience.org. All the prints are signed by the artist and printed using archival materials.
By IASP.
Non Serviam. In 1914, a poet led the upraising against everything (all revolts should spark like poetry). "I am not serving you ever again," he admonished to the omnipotent mother nature with all his strength. Non Serviam. That phrase, the Chilean Vicente Huidobro claims, was carved in history. "I will never serve you as a slave, never again." With two words, Non Serviam, a revolution like never before began. This was the ammunition of Vicente Huidobro's Manifest of Creationism. To create, create, and create. This is fascinating. Perhaps the most important vanguard movement ever made.
Cover picture of the Quilapayun's Album "Survario" |
When I approached Nita for an interview, she suggested to interview her friend instead. “She rescues tourist in her free time and MPR wanted an interview with her,” was her pitch. Nita’s friend, a petite lady with soft silver hair and bright smile, quickly responded: “Oh no, you need to interview Nita -- she is our local Methuselah.” “Do not listen to her, we are the same age!” Nita’s deep eyes twinkled mirthfully. I liked the mischievous exchange between these two friends. One could tell these two Methuselahs have been together through thick and thin.
I met artist Nita Anderson at her art gallery in Grand Marais during the Fourth of July weekend. I spent the weekend exploring the North Shore. In the spur of the moment I escaped the Cities in search of some solitude. I found it in the breathtaking nature and Nita’s art. When I entered her gallery, I was taken aback by her depiction of the local wilderness. Feeling physically drawn into her paintings, her trees were inviting me to have a quick nap in their shade. Such an alluring proposition. But I chose to talk to Nita instead.
Nita has a charming personality. She makes one feel as if they were old friends instantly. “The older I get, the more thoughtful I am about the message I want to leave behind,” she confessed. Nita wants to spread positivity and show us all the good we have. Nita’s travels help her reflect on life. I could have spent the whole day chatting with Nita about her adventures and at the end of the day still invite her for a glass of wine to continue our conversation -- that is how much I was mesmerized by her stories.
As we peeked into Nita’s garden, we saw her tomcat Jackson lazily sunbathing near the door. “Jackson is from Arkansas. I adopted him… or maybe he adopted me,” Nita laughed. “I was traveling with my RV and forgot to close my window. When I later returned to my RV, there he was waiting for me. We have remained together since,” Nita said with a warm smile. And one could just feel Nita’s big heart opening to us all through her demeanor and her paintings.
If you would like to bring the solitude of the North to your home, hurry up to visit Nita before she takes off on her new RV travel adventure!
By IASP.
Roberto Matta's mural is the tale of two sides of the same coin: the Chilean people's stubborn defiance, but also the ultimate failure of Pinochet's 27-year-dictatorship to erase our past. In fact, for thirty-five years, everyone speculated the complete destruction of the mural El Primer Gol del Pueblo Chileno (The First Scoring of the Chilean People") by Roberto Matta. Perhaps its very existence remained in doubt as so many other crimes committed by Pinochet.
When I chose Minnesota for my new home, my friends across the country -- well pretty much across the world -- were surprised by my choice. "I wanted to visit you in NY, LA or SF -- NOT MPLS. What do you want to do in the middle of nowhere? There is nothing interesting happening!" I would hear frequently.
Well, I disagree. Minnesota is exciting and messy -- just like a family. You have friends who drive for 3 hours in the middle of the night to pick you up from Wisconsin because you had a minor car accident totaling car (and your friends do not want you to have to stay in the cheese curds state). You have friends who take you out for a drink to provide you moral support. You also have that one irresponsible friend who constantly annoys you but you cannot imagine the life in the cities without her. Pretty much Minnesota covers every member of a family, including that eccentric uncle whom I met recently.
It was a hot day and he wore a long sleeved white Oxford shirt with a white vest made of a polyester blend. I swear that garment had no breathability but he seemed unbothered. Streaks of his raven hair were falling over his black head band onto his oversized leopard glasses. His tiny mustache starkly contrasted with his dominant nose. He was part of the artist ensemble at the Gamut Gallery's anniversary celebration. He sat on a folding chair behind a table filled with his art. His arms were crossed as if he did not want to communicate. He also had a little frown on his face. Yet you could not resist but to approach him. His Britney Spears prints caught my eye. "I am famous for these prints and even Britney knows about them," he started our communication. His name is Scot Seekings and he is definitely Minnesota's eccentric uncle, which makes him my uncle as well and I could not be more excited!
Uncle Scott does not know much about his origins. He told me with pride that he is a jewish Slav who came to the United States at a young age as an orphan. It was easy to ignore his stained shirt when his face lit up with excitement while talking about his art. He showed me all his Britney Spears prints (whom he adores) and photos of him around Minneapolis holding various signs in numerous languages. He worked with different photographers throughout many years. It certainly seemed to be a fun project.
Social media is not a platform you will be able to find our uncle Scott. However, if you seem genuinely interested in his art, you will make his list. You will become the chosen one. He will take your phone number and text you an SMS to let you know when he will open his atelier at Loring Park for public. Uncle Scott's texts include also some pictures as a sneak peak to ensure your attendance! If I were you, I would try to get on his list. Because at the end of the day, everyone needs his or her eccentric uncle.
By IASP.
When visiting Santiago, I love how Anthony Bourdain mocks the LonelyPlanet magazine. Cause the best experience you can encounter in Chile doesn't come from the new areas designed for gringos to empty their pockets, but from those opened to share our culture and daily life. The same way how our complex history cannot be unveiled in the first five sections of Wikipedia. Anthony Bourdain is no longer with us, but it brings me great joy to rewatch his visit to Chile on the day of his birthday, June 25.
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