I discovered that it is necessary, absolutely necessary, to believe in nothing. That is, we have to believe in something which has no form and no color—something which exists before all forms and colors appear.
Every word is like an unnecessary stain on silence and nothingness.
The history of Jai Alai is somewhat murky. Some claims are made that it may have been a Mayan export to Spain and was taken up by the Basques. Others claim that it simply originated in Northern Spain within the Basque population as a derivative of popular handball games known as Pelota. Roughly translated from Basque Jai Alai comes to mean Merry Festival. It was a game played on the weekends and during festivals among the Basque population of Spain and France within and around the valleys of the Pyrenees mountains. Even if we don’t know its exact origins, we can make the claim that the sports popularity was a result of its Basque heritage and evolution.
I detest audiences. Not in their individual components but en masse I detest audiences, I think they are a force of evil.
Music for entertainment … seems to complement the reduction of people to silence, the dying out of speech as expression, the inability to communicate at all. It inhabits the pockets of silence that develop between people molded by anxiety, work and undemanding docility.
Song elevates our being and leads us to the good and the true. If, however, music serves only as a diversion or as a kind of vain ostentation it is sinful and harmful.
I have what could be considered a mild, although likely to most, dry and banal, obsession with doors. What has always drawn me to them is not only the mystery of the other side, but the meaning of the spaces that they divide, both imagined and physical. Doors certainly stand in the way of physical space, but in no way do the impede imagined space. They force one to ask what is beyond them, or to ponder what the exact purpose it is that they are serving. An inquisitive mind might draw certain conclusions based on design, architecture, adornment or general aesthetic to identify their purpose or what is beyond them, but lacking a key or the appropriate access, what is behind a door will remain a mystery.
A tempting neckline is the hall of a great hotel where the notes of a delightful jazz band can be heard, coming from the discrete and harmonic noise of necklaces of fantastic stones
It is one thing to note that Latin American literature and poetry is underrepresented in North America and elsewhere. But it is a whole other thing to note that Latin American woman in literature and poetry are completely and almost violently underrepresented globally. Heavier hitting countries such as Mexico, Chile, Argentina and Brasil have found some acclaim in history for producing talented writers who breach the surface of international success. But there are many Latin American counties whose writers deserve our recognition and respect. One such writer is Hilda Mundy. Her bibliography is perhaps as scarce as her reputation beyond the borders of Bolivia; however, what she did produce was certainly remarkable.
DISTANCE moves away FROM US
in order to continue being itself.
no cerraré los ojos, ni los bajaré.
If you are anything like me you feel it. We are inundated with a seemingly infinite amount of information and opinion. I suffer daily from too much input and too little output. I am a research hound, or at least I was. But now the amount of information I have at the touch of a finger is almost paralyzing. I spend much of my time sifting through articles in a haphazard fashion absorbing what I can of them, which is often very little. If the information isn’t academic in nature or relating to the news it is social information. Scores and scores of social information filtered down by Facebook. Social Media algorithms have pinned me for what I am: A Gin swilling political harlequin, drunk and unheard amongst the clamor of his digital peers. I am bombarded by information and in turn I peddle it back at the webosphere in an endless tactless dance of pseudodialectical “communication”. And inevitably, as I sift through my daily dose(s) of information, I stumble upon the generic humdrumity of public opinion. Like a terrible accident on the highway seen on a bus speeding by, I can’t help but look in concern. I am addicted to reading that which pains me: the comments section. Between the amount of information that I pretend I can even come close to processing on the daily and those latent opinions just waiting for me to discover I feel incredibly fatigued. An insomniatic fatigue that could really only be the result of an addiction.
Everywhere is walking distance if you have the time.
With around 15, 000 km2 of urban landscape to explore and upwards of 20 million people to navigate through Mexico City represents a very complex and dynamic urban environment. It is truly a mind-boggling place that is filled with contradiction and strife. Yet, at the same time it can be wonderfully simple and predictable. Having visited this metropolis several times I have found the best way to understand it and develop a relationship with it is to put my feet to the cement.
Donald Trump is a politician par excellence. The Samuel Johnson dictionary, the benchmark in English language dictionaries, defines a politician as: ‘ 1. One versed in the arts of government; one skilled in politicks. 2. A man of artifice; one of deep contrivance.’ A man of artifice … Donald Trump is a man of artifice. More than a politician, Trump transcends into an ideology. Donald Trump is an ideology.
Friday March 11, 2016 marked the exhibition opening of PaintersNYC at the Museo de los Pintores Oaxaqueños (MUPO) in Oaxaca City. This collective exhibition presents a young and emerging generation of New York painters. The show is an attempt to analyze and document the evolution of what is considered to be New York painting. This exhibition represents on a whole a cultural crossroads and exchange. Firstly, this is seen in the diversity of the artists within the show being from all across America and who now call New York home, and; secondly, this exhibition continues the dialogue between Oaxaqueño and Mexican art and artists with our northern neighbours.