Back to front: Weegee, Enrique G de la G

I was walking through the Belvedere Gardens in Vienna (2008), when I saw these women sharing a bench, but not a view. I hurried up to make the shot in black/white. No complaint from the woman sporting sunglasses, showing no interest for my interest. Then I walked away to see Kokoschka's obsession for Alma Mahler.

Some days ago I discovered by chance this shot by Weegee called Back to Front (1940). Awesome!

Suplemento 'Alemania', periódico "Reforma"

Muy buena onda, Yaotzin publicó mi perfil en el suplemento 'Alemania' del día de hoy, conmemorando 21 años de la caída del Muro. La foto es de Tamara Popić, tomada en Coyoacán, y por alguna razón desconocida no aparece acreditada.

¡Salud!

 

Mark Twain: Afro-Americans, indígenas

I had been thinking for a while how to post the story of Cecilia and Petrona, but I just couldn't find the right words. Memo sent me a piece by Sarah Churchwell. And eureka! There it was: Mark Twain has always the solution for any problem you might have.

Churchwell talks about Mark Twain and his approach to racism:

"He also paid for the tuition of a young African American who wanted to attend Yale, saying that 'he was doing it as his part of the reparation due from every white man to every black man'".

That is exactly what we Mexicans (and Latin Americans, and many other people, like arrogant post colonialist Europeans first of all!) should do: We all have a certain debt to every indígena (or person from a former colony): historic debts, like Adam's.

There is still such a huge amount of racism in Mexico towards indígenas. Like Cecilia and Petrona, two tzeltales (mayas), who went shopping to upper-class Polanco district, as part of a deal with a newspaper. And they were asked by security personal to abandon the stores due to their clothes.

Ah! But how nice it is to go to Chiapas and buy artcraft and see Palenque, Montebello, Sancris and the jungle... Or to buy old haciendas and establish a nice hotel. Or whatever.

There is a part to be done of the reparation due from every mestizo man to every indígena. Ask Mark Twain, if not.

 Fotos: Ramón Romero

Those backs you just can't forget

 Ingres, Valpicon Bather (1808) | Man Ray, Le violon d'Ingres (1924)

 Angelina Jolie (2006) | Nicole Kidman for Coco Chanel No. 5 (2004)

Irving Penn, Amber Valletta (1996) |  Horst P. Horst, Mainbocher Corset (1939)

Arnold Schwarzenegger 

Sophie Ristelhueber, Every One #14 (1994) | Darío Morales, Mujer de espaldas (1970)  | Hernán Díaz, Mujer de espaldas viendo Mujer de espaldas (?)

Venus of Milo | Denis Gulyaev

Dalí, Gala desnuda (1960) | Werner Amann, American (2010)

Siblings

If you loose your father or mother, you are an 'orphan'. In Spanish, if a mother looses a son or daughter, she is a 'dolorosa'. The relationships between parents and children have been studied exhaustively.

But that is not the case with the relationships among siblings. How you call somebody who lost a sib? There is not even a word to name it.

Besides those with similar experience, nobody can really understand how it feels (and eventually help you) if your sibling  died, or had cancer, or got caught by a sect...

Elisa Albert is publishing in a few days a compilation of non fiction stories on siblings: Freud's Blind Spot.

I just read the first one, published today on NYT Magazine by Mary Norris, whose brother is becoming her sister.

Can't wait to read the whole book!

Charles Bukowski on twitter

My favorite bookstore in the neighborhood organizes monthly readings. Earlier this week there was this guy reading Charles Bukowski's poem "bluebird", which seemed to me dedicated to twitter -- notice even their common disdain for capital letters!

there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too tough for him,
I say, stay in there, I'm not going
to let anybody see
you.

there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I pur whiskey on him and inhale
cigarette smoke
and the whores and the bartenders
and the grocery clerks
never know that
he's
in there.

there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too tough for him,
I say,
stay down, do you want to mess
me up?
you want to screw up the
works?
you want to blow my book sales in
Europe?

there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too clever, I only let him out
at night sometimes
when everybody's asleep.
I say, I know that you're there,
so don't be
sad.
then I put him back,
but he's singing a little
in there, I haven't quite let him
die
and we sleep together like
that
with our
secret pact
and it's nice enough to
make a man
weep, but I don't
weep, do
you?

Building for the Eternity: Eiffel, Marx-Engels

Eiffel Tour (1878)

Sybille Bergemann, Marx-Engels (1984)

And rather kaputt, but also eternal and beautiful:

 

Venus of Cyrene, Roma copy (1st Century AD)

Mis impresiones sobre mi barrio en Behlín

Vivo en el barrio más hipster de Behlín, Prenzlauer Berg. Tardé en venir acá, antes vivía cerca de Mexikoplatz, no pun intended.

La muy chida revista colombiana "Exclama" acaba de publicar mi artículo sobre Prenzlauer Berg con fotos mías, como este descamisado graffiteando el Muro de Behlín. Y una entrevista con mi amiga Alinka E.

Thucydides and the II World War

One of the most surprising (to use the weakest adjective) things of living in Germany is the fact that you still cannot understand how did the Nazism succeed among these people. There are many reasons, theories, explanations, but the Shoah and Hitler will remain for me always beyond any comprehension.

One very positive (to use the weakest adjective, again) thing of living in Germany is the relationship Germans have with their own Past and History. Sometimes it is too much, specially in daily life, but in this case rather too much than nothing. I take it that Thucydides would be proud of how Germans deal with their own History.

But that is definitely not the case with USA. "Move on!" is the practical way of solving problems (just got an email with such an easy proposal -- "Right!").

So I was not even surprised but completely skeptical when Y told me about the existence of Concentration Camps in USA during the II World War. I thought that was something for Nazis and Communists, nothing appropriate for Hollywoodean territories.

But in fact, it is true.

Not only that, but making some research I found out that there were also Concentration Camps in Mexico.

It might well be that every Historian student knows this, but most of the population is completely unaware of it, it remains still a taboo, children are not taught on these topics at school. 

Concentration Camps in USA (called "Internment Camps") go back to the I World War, where they imprisoned civilians aka "enemy aliens" of German origin, and later also of Japanese and Italian origin.

The one in Mexico (called "Presidio de la isla María Magdalena") was for Chinese people during the so called Campaña Antichina between 1918 and 1934. Around 4,000 Chinese were killed due to racism.

Where is Thucydides, for God's sake?

Foto: Manzanar Internment Camp near L.A.

Walls: Berlin, USA-Mexican border

Day of elections in USA yesterday. Today, "surprises".

I have never been a fan of Obama, the Nobel Prize he got was ridiculous. He hasn't understand many of the huge problems he got from Bush and the system. But the most important thing of Obama being President is the enormous fight that the Afro-Americans fought for many years to get their rights. Chapeau!

Now, Latinos are the new object of harrasment in the USA, and yesterday's elections show two things: the first Latino becoming Governor and some anti-Latino forces getting stronger than never before.

The wall between Mexico and USA is as primitive and awful as the Berlin Wall.

Mexico-USA border, Pacific coast

Berlin Wall Memorial, Bernauer Strasse

Beyond the political differences between the USAmerican migration policy and the dictatorial communist German regime during the Cold War, the comparison is fair, at some extent. Both Germany and USA are some of the countries with the best cultural and economic resources. Both killed or are killing (or letting die) innocent people looking forward to be able to offer a better life to themselves and their families.

Between 1961 and 1989 (28 years), the DDR regime killed 136 people trying to escape to West Berlin.

Between 1998 and 2004 (6 years), a number of 1,954 migrants died or were killed trying to get to the USA.  And the number is dramatically increasing due to bastards such as Zetas and other drug dealers ("external" factors). In any case, the statistics here are not that clear.

Carl Osbon, American-Mexican border (1910)

American-Mexican border (2010)

One of those happy revolutions

There is a happy musical revolution going on in my life these days, a great experience. I had never discovered so much good music in such a short period of time, without any effort. It is flowing all the time to me, like good vibes, perfect for the timing.

I wrote once already about the Israeli project "1:1". Pseudo Bar Refaeli came to Berlin recently and she brought me the best music from Israel.

Then, since it was impossible to attend that Halloween party, J invited me last weekend to see this new band, Brokof. It was a short, great concert in an empty store of Prenzlauer Berg. Charming guys, the drummer has a unique style, playing while standing. The police came, since there was no authorization for a concert. It was one of those evenings in which you feel like experiencing something for the first time: indie concert in a forbidden place, finishing just on time to avoid the police, great music, never seen a drummer playing on his feet, the singer got so excited that he broke a string of his guitar and started to improvise with it...

And this morning there was this guest-guy posting on Guuzbourg's Filles Sourires an amazing song by Konstantin Gropper, whom I didn't know. But this guy is definitely doing the best visual/musical project you can think of, if you like music inspired by Marx, Seneca, Plinius, which sounds boring but in fact sounds amazing...

Día de muertos: popular art, plain art, wannabe art, snob art, appropriation art, cinema

Sugar calacas (popular Mexican tradition)

Candy calaca (Jim Riswold) 

Foam calaca (Fabio Viale)

Butterfly calaca (Philippe Pasqua)

Diamond calaca (Damien Hirst)

Real calacas in Guanajuato (old photo trouvée by Jane Hammond)



First calaca movie (Lumière, 1895)

Dressed up: Meat, Feathers

Two shows, two singers, last September.

 

Lady Gaga wore the controversial meat dress from Franc Fernandes last 12th of September at the MTV Music Awards.

 

A week later, Björk performed at the Alexander McQueen service at St. Paul's wearing a ostrich feather skirt. Read the obituary of Suzy Menkes at the New York Times.

What's next? Ice? Frozen magma? Asteroids? Goat bio-shit?

Enrique Metínides, Birgit Kinder

[Last night, I programmed this post to be published today. In the meantime, Gabriella posted Enrique Metínides work: what a nice coincidence!]

 Accidente (1962)

Check out more sosias (1 & 2) on Enrique Metínides.

Test the Rest, painting on the Berlin Wall (1990)

Chicago: Halloween party in 1939 (8mm film)

How to solve a medical problem

"Up and down his body there were whispered rumours of pain. In fact, physically, at all times, he felt epiphanically tragic. His doctor had died four years ago ('Unfortunately I am terminally ill'); and that, in Richard's mature opinion, was definitely that. He had a large and lucent lump on the back of his neck. This he treated himself, by the following means: he kept his hair long, to keep it hidden. If you went up to Richard Tull and told him he was in Denial, he would deny it. But not hotly".

Martin Amis, "The Information"

Abel Quezada, Pacman

Abel Quezada became very well know in the late 1950's thanks to this cartoon. In the 1980's he was doing covers of The New Yorker, while Pacman was eating ghosts. He died in 1991 (NYT Obituary).

 * * *

Escribió Monsiváis a propósito del "Tapado" en tiempos del PRI:

El Tapado: La sombra del burócrata

A lo largo de cada sexenio el Tapado es el acertijo de cuya solución dependen fortunas y encubrimientos. Al principio, es un chiste al que le otorga forma y rentabilidad publicitaria el caricaturista Abel Quezada. El anuncio "El Tapado fuma Elegantes" es la cima del sentido del humor usado por la sociedad para, de paso, celebrar su impotencia.

El Tapado es el Sucesor, pero también el centro de las nuevas dádivas y confirmaciones, es decir, el Tapado es el fantasma de la presidencia por venir, el espectro que ha de materializarse en poder absoluto, y por eso los chistes sobre el Tapado festejan también la inexistencia de la ciudadanía. Doble fila de la ironía: el Tapado es la adivinanza cuya solución correcta es promesa de ascenso, y el Tapado es el rostro espectral que el adivino fallido devela con terror.

Wolf whistle

I posted recently those photos because there is a story to tell.

It was dark and chilly, downtown was dead except for a few tourists, like me. I was at a corner with a red light, busy with my camera. I felt a couple reaching the corner as well, and stopping by. They were talking peacefully, but I didn't pay attention to them. Through the camera I noticed a car approaching, and waited a bit to take advantage of its lights. It also stopped. Then, the driver wolf-whistled.

I did my shot, checked the pic, and he wolf-whistled again. It was a taxi driver looking in our direction. "Thanks, folk, but you don't need to whistle at me, not interested!", I yelled at him. He laughed and said: "Not for you, for her". So I turned at her, who was very offended: "He needs your attention". She got even more offended: "How you dare?". "Mate, sorry, no interest either on her side". With a funny sign, he asked me to insist. I smiled at her: "Maybe you should..." And she turned around decided to end the little game...

"Oh, my God, how are you?!" Her partner was surprised and a bit jealous. He then looked at the taxi for the first time and shouted: "Hey, you!" They all laughed, "How come are you here? What a coincidence!", "Yes, long no see...", "We'll call you!", "Yes, talk to you later...", "See you!", "Bye!". He drove away.

The woman said to me: "Oh, sorry, that's a friend of ours, thanks for being so persistent". "You're very welcome". We crossed the street laughing and then they disappeared around the corner...

No(w) life at Times Square

Not being a New Yorker, the most appalling thing for me when I visited Times Square for the first time was the striking impact of seeing nothing but artificial things, besides people of course.

I sat down on the red carpet and for five minutes I tried to identify something natural: no llamas, not a bird, not a tree, no dogs, not even a cloud.

Such a stark impression was completely new for me, and I have never been in such a state of mesmerization.

A Mexican NYU student, Marco Castro, had the same impression and is offering a cool solution: Bus roots. He is putting plants on the roofs of buses all around the city.

 

Fotos: Inge Morath, A Llama in Times Square (1957)

Shane Ramkissoon / Bus Roots (2010)

Héctor García, Pablo Cruz, Madonna

Héctor García is one of the best Mexican photographers. His "Paso a la luz" made me recall a sexy shot by a friend of mine, Pablo Cruz, who is doing a great work with his... shit, yes... Canon... (hey man, upgrade to Nikon!). I take it that his Crucifix refers to Madonna, but I might be wrong.

 

Paso a la luz (1963)

Crucifix (2010)

Live to tell, "Confessions Tour" (2006)

Update (April 2011): Found some time ago Constantine Xenos' drawing:

Cross (2010)