Los Restos de Art Nuko en su Próxima Necrópolis
Saturday, June 30, 2018
México un cementerio es un panteón. En mi Buenos Aires es un cementerio y para
mí prefiero la interesante necrópolis.
|Linda Lorenzo y proyeccíón de La Recoleta|
Panthĕon, templo dedicado en Roma antigua a todos los dioses, y este del gr. Πάνθειον Pántheion.
Monumento funerario destinado a enterramiento de varias personas.
Conjunto de las divinidades de una religión o de un pueblo. El panteón griego.
And. y Am. cementerio (‖ terreno destinado a enterrar cadáveres).
Academia Española © Todos los derechos reservados
amigo, Carl Chaplin (con el apodo de Art Nuko) que vive en el interior de la
Provincia de British Columbia que está cotemplando su muerte. Hace años
creía en una conflagración atómica y dibujaba hermosas postales que ilustrsban
una importante metrópolis sufriendo un hongo atómico. Ver aquí.
|Ilustración - Carl Chaplin|
decía que iba a mudarse al norte de la provincia para construir un sótano de
cemento armado donde pensaba sobrevir la casi segura catástrofe. Esto no
sucedió. Ahora está pensando en un lugar para sus restos y su arte. A sus
amigos mandó esta comunicación:
I am approaching old age rapidly and would like to make plans for my last days here on Earth.
Although I plan on outliving Trump, Putin, Netanyahoo (and most of you) I fear that I am about to lose my audience.
I have now started the planning process for Art Nuko's final resting place.
The idea up to this point has been to bury Nuko's concrete crypt somewhere in remote BC. The object being to preserve the paintings for any future anthropologists to find if they wanted to know why there wasn't anyone around to greet them.
This plan has now evolved because recent scientific revelations about what is happening to our planet and what has happened in the past.
In the briefest of outlines:
Must be above 250 feet elevation (sea level might rise 200 feet due to Global warming)
Must be far below the southern boundary of the last ice age. (We might be triggering the next one now)
Must be far away from any nuclear target (including all cities)
Must be on hard bedrock
Will be made of the hardest granite by Rock of Ages in the states.
The dimensions will be those of the so-called King's sarcophagus in the center of the Great Pyramid.
A solid granite cover will seal the box.
What's most important is what will be engraved upon that cover.
The massage/image will include features of
Carl Sagan's Pioneer plaque
The Arecibo Message
...with the addition of the Periodic Chart highlighting Uranium and Plutonium.
It will also include the ancient Egyptian ubiquitous tomb image of the Gods presiding over the judgment of our soles as it is depicted in the Nuko painting "Spending Eternity in Egypt".
I'll leave the last word to you...
Para mí, habiendo vivido en México por muchos años, la idea de la muerte no es algo que temo. Cuando mi Rosemary me pide que le abra una lata o jarro le digo, "Haslo vos y imagináte que estoy muerto." La muerte vive conmigo en el día y en la noche.
recoleta - Jorge Luís Borges
tantas nobles certidumbres del polvo,
demoramos y bajamos la voz
las lentas filas de panteones,
retórica de sombra y de mármol
o prefigura la deseable
de haber muerto.
son los sepulcros,
desnudo latín y las trabadas fechas fatales,
conjunción del mármol y de la flor
plazuelas con frescura de patio
muchos ayeres de a historia
detenida y única.
esa paz con la muerte
creemos anhelar nuestro fin
anhelamos el sueño y la indiferencia.
en las espadas y en la pasión
dormida en la hiedra,
espacio y el tiempo son normas suyas,
instrumentos mágicos del alma,
ésta se apague,
apagarán con ella el espacio, el tiempo y la muerte,
cesar la luz
el simulacro de los espejos
la tarde fue apagando.
benigna de los árboles,
con pájaros que sobre las ramas ondea,
se dispersa entre otras almas,
milagro que alguna vez dejaran de ser,
su imaginaria repetición
con horror nuestros días.
cosas pensé en la Recoleta,
lugar de mi ceniza.
de la sombra- Jorge Luís Borges
(tal es el nombre que los otros le dan)
ser el tiempo de nuestra dicha.
animal ha muerto o casi ha muerto.
el hombre y su alma.
entre formas luminosas y vagas
son aún la tiniebla.
antes se desgarraba en arrabales
vuelto a ser la Recoleta, el Retiro,
borrosas calles del Once
precarias casas viejas
llamamos el Sur.
en mi vida fueron demasiadas las cosas;
de Abdera se arrancó los ojos para pensar;
tiempo ha sido mi Demócrito.
penumbra es lenta y no duele;
por un manso declive
parece a la eternidad.
amigos no tienen cara,
mujeres son lo que fueron hace ya tantos años,
esquinas pueden ser otras,
letras en las páginas de los libros.
esto debería atemorizarme,
una dulzura, un regreso.
generaciones de los textos que hay en la tierra
habré leído unos pocos,
sigo leyendo en la memoria,
del Este, del Oeste, del Norte,
los caminos que me han traído
caminos fueron ecos y pasos,
hombres, agonías, resurrecciones,
ínfimo instante del ayer
y de los
ayeres del mundo,
espada del danés y la luna del persa,
actos de los muertos,
compartido amor, las palabras,
y la nieve y tantas cosas.
puedo olvidarlas. Llego a mi centro,
álgebra y mi clave,
sabré quién soy.
Rhea darwinii - Not
Friday, June 29, 2018
During our (Nora Patrich, Juan Manuel Sanchez & me
and ably assisted by our subject Linda Lorenzo) pursuit of Argentine nostalgia
I found that Patrich had objects that met up with any obscure nostalgia I had
on my place of birth.
One of them was seeing South American rheas (related to
Australian ostriches) swiftly run across the Pampa from my vantage point on a
horse. I would then urge my horse to gallop in their direction. I never really
got that close.
(Argentine for ranch) asados
aged meet was offered to guests while the workers of the estancia at very tough
freshly slaughtered beef. For dessert we had luscious cakes but again those
workers ate cakes made from the eggs of the avestruz
(as rheas are called in
Argentina). The taste was strong as was the smell. Argentines call the stench
of a sweaty horse or that of a rhea’s egg catinga.
We had a hollowed out rhea’s egg at home that did not
survive our move from Buenos Aires to Mexico City. Nora did not have that
problem. She had the egg which resulted in many photographs in which I used
fine grain slow and very fast Ilford film. A few of the pictures here I took
with Kodak Black&White Infrared Film.
I found this interesting account on Darwin's observations on the Argentine avestruz here
. It saved me the painful effort of copying it from my own personal copy of Darwin's The Voyage of the Beagle.
I will now give an account of … the Struthio Rhea, or
South American ostrich. This bird is well known to abound over the plains of
Northern Patagonia, and the united provinces of La Plata. It has not crossed
the Cordillera; but I have seen it within the first range of mountains on the
Uspallata plain…. The ordinary habits of the ostrich are familiar to everyone.
They feed on vegetable matter; such as roots and grass; but at Bahia Blanca, I
have repeatedly seen three or four come down at low water to the extensive
mud-banks which are then dry, for the sake, as the Gauchos say, of catching
small fish. Although the ostrich in its habits is so shy, wary, and solitary,
and although so fleet in its pace, it falls a prey, without much difficulty, to
the Indian or Gaucho armed with the bolas. When several horsemen appear in a
semicircle, it becomes confounded, and does not know which way to escape. They
generally prefer running against the wind; yet at the first start they expand
their wings, and like a vessel make all sail. On one fine hot day I saw several
ostriches enter a bed of tall rushes, where they squatted concealed, till quite
closely approached. It is not generally known that ostriches readily take to
the water. Mr. King informs me that at the Bay of San Blas, and at Port Valdes
in Patagonia, he saw these birds swimming several times from island to island.
…When swimming, very little of their bodies appear above water, and their necks
are extended a little forward: their progress is slow. On two occasions, I saw
some ostriches swimming.
Charles Darwin – The Voyage of the Beagle
The following passage is thought by some Darwin scholars
to reflect one of Darwin’s most significant “aha” moments, leading to his
understanding of evolutionary processes. The bird described here is known as
the Avestruz Petise, and was named by the ornithologist Gould as Rhea darwinii.
However,since the bird was earlier named (based on reports, not specimens)
Pterocnemia pennata (the Lesser rhea), Darwin’s name does not survive today in
the annals of taxonomy.
Read the passage then I’ll note its presumed
heard the Gauchos talking of a very rare bird which they called Avestruz
Petise. They described it as being less than the common ostrich (which is there
abundant), but with a very close general resemblance. … The few inhabitants who
had seen both kinds, affirmed they could distinguish them apart from a long
distance. … This species occurs most rarely on the plains bordering the Rio
Negro; but about a degree and a half further south they are tolerably abundant.
…They are said to prefer the plains near the sea. When at Port Desire, in
Patagonia (lat. 48°), Mr. Martens shot an ostrich; and I looked at it,
forgetting at the moment, in the most unaccountable manner, the whole subject
of the Petises, and thought it was a two-third grown one of the common sort.
The bird was cooked and eaten before my memory returned. Fortunately the head,
neck, legs, wings, many of the larger feathers, and a large part of the skin,
had been preserved. From these a very nearly perfect specimen has been put
together, and is now exhibited in the museum of the Zoological Society. Mr.
Gould, who in describing this new species did me the honour of calling it after
my name, states, that besides the smaller size and different colour of the
plumage, the beak is of considerably less proportional dimensions than in the
common Rhea …
In my Buenos Aires youth my mother dusted the house with a plumero
which was made from avestruz feathers. I believe that if the Hoover had not been invented these majestic birds would be extinct.
Y si Dios fuera mujer - What if God Were a Woman
Thursday, June 28, 2018
These days I am printing up with my Canon Pro-1 Inkjet Printer my show which I will share with Argentine artist Nora Patrich at the nicely named Galería Vermeer in Buenos Aires. The "muestra" will open mid September. Because the galler's space is not big I must choose carefully. I have opted to have as much of an Argentine/Buenos Aires presence in the content of my photographs. I could easily just place photographs of the sensationally beautiful Argentine Linda Lorenzo. But that would simply be a repetition of a show called Nostalgia that Nora Patrich, Juan Manuel Sánchez and I had in Vancouver in 2001 at a South Granville gallery. So I have limited my Lorenzo output to four. But then I look at this photograph (and there are many, many more) and I feel frustrated, limited and vexed.
|Linda Lorenzo - Photograph - Alex Waterhouse-Hayward|
In this age of in-your-face pornography I revel at looking at my photographs of Lorenzo and feeling a bout of a subjective Argentine opinion (mine) that Argentine women are the most beautiful and erotic of all.
In a different age that was the 20th century my mother, who had a slim body, wore a girdle when she rode the Argentine buses called colectivos. This was her defense from avid Argentine pinchers. In the 60s I noticed that Argentine men, in colectivos were gentlemen only in the summer. Why? They would cede their seas to skimpily-dressed women so they could look down on their cleavage.
Now in this century, and at my age of 75, I must keep these thoughts to myself or perhaps take the chance that I may not offend all with them. Uruguayan writer Mario Benedetti (14 September 1920 – 17 May 2009), whose complete name was Mario Orlando Hardy Hamlet Breen Benedetti Farrugia, had a special knack for writing erotic poems.
Nostalgia for your skin - Benedetti
Here in Canada in this century I am enjoying reading the poems by our very Canadian Susan Musgrave who gives Benedetti a run for his Uruguayan Pesos. As a sample to well illustrate Linda Lorenzo wearing a gaucho pant called a bombacha, a gaucho belt called a rastra and holding my facón ( a gaucho knife). Below both in Spanish and in English ( a rare translation as Benedetti is not as well known in these parts as other Latin American writers is his poem) is his Y si dios fuera mujer (What if God Were a Woman)
Dios Fuera Mujer – Mario Benedetti
Dios fuera mujer?
Juan sin inmutarse.
vaya, si Dios fuera mujer
posible que agnósticos y ateos
dijéramos no con la cabeza
dijéramos sí con las entrañas.
nos acercáramos a su divina desnudez
sus pies no de bronce
no de piedra
pechos no de mármol
labios no de yeso.
fuera mujer la abrazaríamos
arrancarla de su lontananza
habría que jurar
que la muerte nos separe
sería inmortal por antonomasia
Y en vez
de transmitirnos sida o pánico
contagiaría su inmortalidad.
fuera mujer no se instalaría
en el reino de los cielos
nos aguardaría en el zaguán del infierno
brazos no cerrados
no de plástico
amor no de ángeles.
mío, Dios mío
siempre y desde siempre
lindo escándalo sería
venturosa espléndida imposible
What if God were a woman
What if God was a woman?
Ask John undeterred.
Go go, if God was a woman
It is possible that agnostics and atheists
No we said no with head
And we said yes with guts.
Maybe we approached to its divine nudity
For kissing his feet not of bronze
Her pubis not of stone
Her breasts not of marble
Her lips not of plaster.
If God was a woman, we embrace her
The distance to boot your
And we should not swear
Until death take us away
Since it would be immortal quintessential
And instead of transmitting AIDS or panic
We rub off their immortality.
If God was a woman not be installed
Far in the kingdom of heaven
But we wait in the vestibule of hell
With your open arms
Its pink that isn't plastic
And her love not of angels.
Oh my God, my God
If until forever and from always
You were a woman
How nice scandal it would be
What fortunate splendid impossible
Me & My Norman 200B - Not
Wednesday, June 27, 2018
Me and my Norman 220B
Norman 200B - All American II
I am almost (not quite) feverishly preparing for a joint
show (muestra in Argentine Spanish) that I am going to have with Argentine
painter Nora Patrich at the Vermeer Gallery in Buenos Aires in mid-September of
While doing this I have been trying to convince Patrich to
get us a sitting with the former Argentine president Cristina Kirchner.
I would never just face the woman and click a few times with
my Fuji X-E3. I would want to do this in my own personal style using a softbox
and flash attached to it. So I took out my venerable Norman 200B (read what
this is in the above pair of links). Then I thought what would happen at the
Toronto Airport security when they found the Norman pack in my carry on or in
my luggage. On the right you see a very large wedge-shaped nicad. Would they
object? Then there is the fact that the battery (it is brand new) might give me
50 flashes. What if I plan (I am) in taking portraits of my Argentine family?
This would mean taking the heavy charger. But. Electricity in Buenos Aires is
220.The charger is built for 110. This could easily be solved by any of the
many transformers that Patrich has in her house.
Then on a trip to Kerrisdale I went into Kerrisdale Cameras
and spotted a small, light green plastic flash unit, a Metz, that has no batter but must
be plugged in. It does not look like a bomb. It would fit easily in my luggage
and in Buenos Aires I could use Patrich’s transformer.
I ordered the unit at Leo’s Camera. Jeff Gin instantly
answered to tell me that it was ordered and that (yes!) the unit can be plugged
into anything from 90 volts to 220.
I feel a bit guilty in leaving my trusty Norman behind but
this solution seems to be the best.