All posts by REB

Freezer-Full of Atrocities

Art, Fiction, Performance

I’m sitting here Sunday morning drinking coffee and making some hardboiled eggs. I’m also waiting on a phone call from someone who wants me to help on some sort of creative project. I understand that there is money involved. These are things I dread. I hate to tell people no. It is a huge problem in my life. I’m slowly learning to be firm. It has been my habit of telling people who I’m not keen to work with “maybe” again and again, so that eventually they will decide to disengage. Yes, I said that there’s money involved. I hate when the first thing mentioned about an art project is money. It never goes well. From a position of motivation, money is a killer. At least for me.

Who knows, maybe this guy will win me over. I’ve never met him, and maybe, just maybe, there’s a sliver of room in my upcoming wall-to-wall series of projects between now and March, 2015. But the thing is, these projects are all (with one or two exceptions) with people whose aesthetic and character I know and like and respect. Most are friends.

So, here are the ground rules (or, they should be the ground rules, if I weren’t such a weenie). I’ve lived in San Antonio now for a decade. If you’re a local artist (in any discipline) and our paths haven’t crossed, I want to know why. You don’t know who I am? I don’t know who you are? Well, I throw my net pretty fucking wide. Maybe you’ve recently awoken from a coma? Perhaps have been released from prison? No? Really? If you’re just getting into a creative career, or you’ve recently moved to town, I completely understand. Otherwise, take a number, because there are so many brilliant, community-spirited artists who I am dying to work with—and many have said yes when I’ve asked, or, better, they have reached out to me because they like my work; and, best of all, so many of these collaborations are already falling into place.

Strangers with promises of money and grand ideas they’ve taken to label “art” is one of the main reasons I unplugged myself from the San Antonio film “community.” Too many gormless individuals with dollar signs in their eyes and not one iota of aesthetic. To be less dramatic, I don’t feel we share the same values.

And it suddenly occurred to me that today is Father’s Day. I am reminded that my unreasonable and irresponsible approach to life will most likely mean that I will die poor—perhaps even poorer than I am at the moment, if that’s possible—and that these behaviors of mine which result in financially poor choices were most likely learned from my father. Though I doubt if he were alive, the either of us would think twice about these decisions. His or mine.

So, I sip my coffee and wait on a phone call for a potential paying gig I plan on wriggling free from, under the assumption it won’t be fun. (And, I could be wrong. And maybe this person has no interest in working with ME.) I check on the eggs and return to making notes for the dozen other projects I have in the works between now and March of 2015 which I’m fairly confident will be quite fun, though not so financially rewarding.

[Later edit: Oh, yeah. The guy never called.]

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Jump-Start has begun a series of performances for the months of June. Cafe du Jump: 8 x 8. Eight nights of eight, eight minute performances on an eight by eight foot stage. Admission $8. Performances begin at 8pm. You get the picture.

 

Graphic by Amanda Silva
Graphic by Amanda Silva

My offering is a performance piece titled “A Freezer-Full of Atrocities.” It has been changing each week. For week two, I brought a couple of company members on stage to help out. I also added some video projection. I’d like week three and week four to each become more complex and layered. For last night and Friday night I was also doing tech. So I had to set the lights, audio, and begin the video before climbing down from the tech booth and getting on to the stage. But, the truth is, we are all doing multiple tasks.

Also, I was asked by fellow company member Pamela Dean Kenny to write a monologue for her. I asked her if she had any ideas. “I do. How about an eight year old girl giving a Ted Talk on silverfish?” I can so do that! And so I did. She was perfect!

Two more weekends. I wonder if I can convince the rest of the company to extend the 8 x 8 through July.

Ambrosio

Fiction, Writing

(A stagehand comes on stage unrolling a length of string from the backstage area. The string ends at the center of the stage. The stagehand walks off. A woman enters. She carries a little box and walks along the string like it were a tightrope. She comes center stage and looks out.)

Silverfish. I love that word. That way it feels in the mouth when you say it. Silverfish. The way it tastes! Silverfish. Go ahead. Slow and soft like you’re whispering it to a baby. Silverfish. When I told my mom I wanted a silverfish, she thought about it. And guess what? She said yes! So we went to the pet store. I was so excited. We went to Papa Jim’s on that street where we buy our tamales. But she took me to the fish section. I told her a silverfish isn’t a fish. “But, here’s one,” she said, pointing to a big one swimming around. “And those are also silver,” she said, tapping on another tank. “These are little, you can get two.” That’s when I realized my mother isn’t very smart. I think she thought a silverfish is like a goldfish, just cheaper. When she finally realized what I meant, she just rolled her eyes and told me that they were pests. Silverfish. But that was fine with me. I’m a pest too. That’s what they say.

Silverfish. They are closely related to the very first creatures to emerge from the oceans. Their Latin name is Lepisma. That’s fun to say, too. Lepisma.

I saw my first Silverfish when I was sitting in bed reading. It was Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. This frisky fellow wiggled across the page and just stopped right on top of a question mark. He sat there, staring up at me. I moved my finger in close, and he took off, down into the valley between the pages and up to the top of the book. He went over the edge, but I found him again on the next page, skittering across that picture of the Dodo bird with the walking stick. He took off across my bedspread and I followed him down to the floor. We had many adventures that day before he disappeared into a crack at the back of my closet. I never saw that one again. That silverfish.

He’s not the same silverfish as this one in my box. No. His name is Ambrosio. My mother says it sounds like the name of a gigolo. But I don’t know what that is. I found Ambrosio in that little bookstore in the basement of the library. He was just sitting there, on top of a used coloring book in an open box on the floor. His antennae twitched but he didn’t move as I scooped him up. I put him in the little pill bottle where I keep my medicine, and no one noticed when I snuck him right out the front door.

Silverfish. They are arthropods. Like insects, spiders, and shrimp. It’s my opinion that were silverfish big enough, they’d taste as good as shrimp. And you want to know something? My silverfish is the biggest in the world. Ambrosio’s the size of my pinky finger. I’d take him out of the box, but, you know, he doesn’t like all the lights. Or all the people. They’re very shy creatures, you know. Silverfish.

They say silverfish eat books and old photographs. That may be true. But my Ambrosio eats nothing but french fries. One will last him for a long time.

My mother teaches art for the kids at the State Hospital. And one afternoon I wandered over to the gymnasium to play with Ambrosio. The place was deserted. I unrolled a length of string all the way down the basketball court. I’d taught Ambrosio to walk along a string on the floor. It might curve, or go straight, but he’d always follow it. Maybe on the left, right, or on top of it. But he’d always follow that string. I had it straight. On the floor from hoop to hoop. He did it in 27.5 minutes, without a break!

They say silverfish can live for a year without eating. I find that hard to believe. After crossing that floor, Ambrosio was famished. He put a big dent in a french fry that day!

That day was the first time I ever heard my mother say a kind word about Ambrosio. She said he was a very disciplined silverfish. Well, actually, she called him a bug. That’s a vulgar word. Bug. But I kept quiet about it. I let it slide. Silverfish. Much better than bug. Don’t you think?

I had been asking around about a book on silverfish. There must be some, right? One day this guy my mother was dating gave me a book. It was “The Care and Feeding of Your Golden Retriever.” But he’d put a piece of white tape over Golden Retriever and written Silverfish. Hilarious. It wasn’t a total waste. I mean, we did have a golden retriever. But a book wasn’t much help. I don’t know about you, but what do you do with a dog that doesn’t chase a ball or bark at the mailman anymore. If you ask me, he’s outlived his usefulness. But I guess people like having them around. Sleeping on a pillow in the corner.

There are whole sections in the library for dog books. But for silverfish, I had to research. I’d get a little sentence here, paragraph there. I do know that a silverfish can live as much as eight years. Not bad. But I can’t figure out how old Ambrosio was when I saved him from the library.

He still seems pretty lively. I think I’ll teach him to fetch a tiny little ball. That’d be nice, wouldn’t it, Ambrosio? People and their dogs. Silly, right? I mean, when you have a silverfish.

Well, my time seem to be up. I’d better go back into my box.

(She turns and follows the string backstage.)

Ambrosio

Fiction, Performance, Writing

8x8square

“Ambrosio” was a short monologue I created for Pamela Dean Kenny for Jump-Start’s 8 x 8 showcase. She asked me if I could write an eight minute piece where an eight year old girl gives a Ted Talk on the subject of Silverfish. Absolutely, I said.

Here is” Ambrosio.”

AMBROSIO

(A stagehand comes on stage unrolling a length of string from the backstage area. The string ends at the center of the stage. The stagehand walks off. A woman enters. She carries a little box and walks along the string like it were a tightrope. She comes center stage and looks out.)

Silverfish. I love that word. That way it feels in the mouth when you say it. Silverfish. The way it tastes! Silverfish. Go ahead. Slow and soft like you’re whispering it to a baby. Silverfish. When I told my mom I wanted a silverfish, she thought about it. And guess what? She said yes! So we went to the pet store. I was so excited. We went to Papa Jim’s on that street where we buy our tamales. But she took me to the fish section. I told her a silverfish isn’t a fish. “But, here’s one,” she said, pointing to a big one swimming around. “And those are also silver,” she said, tapping on another tank. “These are little, you can get two.” That’s when I realized my mother isn’t very smart. I think she thought a silverfish is like a goldfish, just cheaper. When she finally realized what I meant, she just rolled her eyes and told me that they were pests. Silverfish. But that was fine with me. I’m a pest too. That’s what they say.

Silverfish. They are closely related to the very first creatures to emerge from the oceans. Their Latin name is Lepisma. That’s fun to say, too. Lepisma.

I saw my first Silverfish when I was sitting in bed reading. It was Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. This frisky fellow wiggled across the page and just stopped right on top of a question mark. He sat there, staring up at me. I moved my finger in close, and he took off, down into the valley between the pages and up to the top of the book. He went over the edge, but I found him again on the next page, skittering across that picture of the Dodo bird with the walking stick. He took off across my bedspread and I followed him down to the floor. We had many adventures that day before he disappeared into a crack at the back of my closet. I never saw that one again. That silverfish.

He’s not the same silverfish as this one in my box. No. His name is Ambrosio. My mother says it sounds like the name of a gigolo. But I don’t know what that is. I found Ambrosio in that little bookstore in the basement of the library. He was just sitting there, on top of a used coloring book in an open box on the floor. His antennae twitched but he didn’t move as I scooped him up. I put him in the little pill bottle where I keep my medicine, and no one noticed when I snuck him right out the front door.

Silverfish. They are arthropods. Like insects, spiders, and shrimp. It’s my opinion that were silverfish big enough, they’d taste as good as shrimp. And you want to know something? My silverfish is the biggest in the world. Ambrosio’s the size of my pinky finger. I’d take him out of the box, but, you know, he doesn’t like all the lights. Or all the people. They’re very shy creatures, you know. Silverfish.

They say silverfish eat books and old photographs. That may be true. But my Ambrosio eats nothing but french fries. One will last him for a long time.

My mother teaches art for the kids at the State Hospital. And one afternoon I wandered over to the gymnasium to play with Ambrosio. The place was deserted. I unrolled a length of string all the way down the basketball court. I’d taught Ambrosio to walk along a string on the floor. It might curve, or go straight, but he’d always follow it. Maybe on the left, right, or on top of it. But he’d always follow that string. I had it straight. On the floor from hoop to hoop. He did it in 27.5 minutes, without a break!

They say silverfish can live for a year without eating. I find that hard to believe. After crossing that floor, Ambrosio was famished. He put a big dent in a french fry that day!

That day was the first time I ever heard my mother say a kind word about Ambrosio. She said he was a very disciplined silverfish. Well, actually, she called him a bug. That’s a vulgar word. Bug. But I kept quiet about it. I let it slide. Silverfish. Much better than bug. Don’t you think?

I had been asking around about a book on silverfish. There must be some, right? One day this guy my mother was dating gave me a book. It was “The Care and Feeding of Your Golden Retriever.” But he’d put a piece of white tape over Golden Retriever and written Silverfish. Hilarious. It wasn’t a total waste. I mean, we did have a golden retriever. But a book wasn’t much help. I don’t know about you, but what do you do with a dog that doesn’t chase a ball or bark at the mailman anymore. If you ask me, he’s outlived his usefulness. But I guess people like having them around. Sleeping on a pillow in the corner.

There are whole sections in the library for dog books. But for silverfish, I had to research. I’d get a little sentence here, paragraph there. I do know that a silverfish can live as much as eight years. Not bad. But I can’t figure out how old Ambrosio was when I saved him from the library.

He still seems pretty lively. I think I’ll teach him to fetch a tiny little ball. That’d be nice, wouldn’t it, Ambrosio? People and their dogs. Silly, right? I mean, when you have a silverfish.

Well, my time seem to be up. I’d better go back into my box.

(She turns and follows the string backstage.)

W-I-P Crème 2014

Uncategorized

Wednesday (yesterday) was a fairly typical day for me. After a couple cups of coffee and a banana, I grabbed a camera and two c-stands and headed over to Our Lady of the Lake University on the westside. I met up with Amber and her dancers. She was presenting a piece from her dance company, SpareWorks.dance, later that night at W-I-P Crème (this is the season’s best works from the Works in Progress series). Amber needed the c-stands because the piece, “Taken In Arms,” involves a translucent plastic sheet to be hung in the center of the stage. And she needed me, because I would be providing the video projection.

“Taken In Arms” was previously performed for a SpareWorks.dance fundraiser a few weeks ago. In that iteration, Amber was one of the dancers because of scheduling conflicts. So, one of the things they were working on for the Wednesday rehearsal was to get Jenny Been Franckowiak up to speed on the piece. The other dancers were Laura Beth Rodriguez, Charles Perez, and Eric Flores. This isn’t a particularly good photograph, but it’s indicative of these wedge-shaped tableaus (tableaux?) Amber creates out of bodies. These assemblages look incredibly striking with theatrical lighting.

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The next stop was to drive home and load up some equipment to video tape a performance over on the southside. Among URBAN-15’s various outreach programs is the teaching of drumming and dancing to kids, mainly elementary and middle school children. I was asked to video document a final performance at New Frontiers, a charter school on S. Presa. I met up with George, Catherine, and Jonathan at the URBAN-15 studio, and we carpooled about a mile or two south to the school.

There was an assembly room with a stage area at the far end on the second floor. Beautiful. Hardwood floors, large windows along one wall, high ceilings. I set up my camera on a tripod and tried to guess the audio levels. George warned me that the acoustics were horrible. And as the kids began filling up the space, I realized what he meant. The kids were typically unruly, but the stamped-tin ceiling and the wooden floor were making the chatter a mushy wash of high decibels. Here are a couple of kids mugging for my still camera.

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It was to be a short performance. I’d been told in advance that we’d start off with the young drummers. Next, the drummers would be joined with the kids from the dance class. And the final piece would be drumming with the dancers (lead by Catherine) moving into the audience and getting the kids and teachers to join them. I was curious how this final bit would go. I wasn’t sure if the teachers knew it was going to happen. They seemed overwhelmed as it was, trying their best to utilize some strange social engineering sign language to get the kids to shut up — a sort of countdown with three fingers, two fingers, one finger, and a fist. There were words shouted as well, but I couldn’t make them out over the general din. For the most part, the kids were quiet by the time the fist appeared. (Maybe it was supposed to be a zero instead of a fist….) Whether or not the teachers received the memo that fifty hyperactive kids would be given permission to join a chaotic conga line, I don’t know, but it was exhilarating to watch when they knew they were expected to join in. The photo below just doesn’t do justice to that sweet moment when the whole sea of kids collectively lost their shit.

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Next I drove home and swapped out equipment. I loaded up an old standard definition camcorder, my laptop, a tripod, a computer monitor, and a shitload of various cables. I drove over to Say Sí for W-I-P Crème.

There were seven acts, I believe. And we only had about an hour to rehearse and tech in the space. I needed to set up my computer and monitor in the wings. I put the camera on the tripod, and hooked it into my computer with the longest firewire cable I have. I snaked a 70 foot s-vga cable along a side corridor to hook it up with Say Sí’s projector. I was having an issue with the output image which eventually resolved itself. (I hate when electronics “fix themselves” and you never know what the problem was and when it might happen again.)

Here’s a picture I took just before showtime out the window of Say Sí. The “Art Is” is part of a longer quote stenciled on the glass. Some generic art-positive bromide, which seems not so precious and patronizing when it’s floating in the clouds.

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We were up first. The plastic sheet was set up. (This was to define the space for the performers, not to project upon.) A large white plastic cube was placed behind the plastic sheet. It had LED lights inside which slowly morphed different colors. And the projection was hitting a screen on the back wall. My camera was perpendicular to the back wall, allowing a side view of the action behind the screen. I used a VJ program to shift the imagery between video scenes of the dancers shot on previous occasions as well as the live camera feed.

The performance went off fairly well, I assume. I wasn’t in a good spot to see what the dancers were doing or even how the projections looked. All in all, it was a great line-up. I loved Fabiola Torralba’s piece, which I had missed at the last W-I-P. Amazing! And it was great to see Zombie Bazaar perform “Polly” again. He’s an out-of-focus Instagram. That’s talcum power in the air.

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Here are some of the Zombie’s near the snack table during the post show reception. That’s Martha, Hunter Moon, and Michi.

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I packed up all my crap, stopped by Taqueria Guadalajara for something to eat, and headed home.

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The Year (So Far) in a Blur

Uncategorized

I may well have transitioned into an unprecedented phase in my life, where I am supporting myself strictly through freelance creative work. The problem is, I have been too busy these last few months to really look at my finances and make a clear assessment.

We’re coming up on June, and I really haven’t had much of a respite for the 2014 year so far.

I helped move Jump-Start Performance Co., a local theater company, from an 8,000 square foot space to a 2,000 square foot space. That was a protracted and inordinately frustrating ordeal. We had the final event in the space in early January — the annual performance party.

I was also in the midst of putting together Tales of Lost Southtown, a full-length play. There was about 40 minutes of video vignettes which I produced for the show. The live action portions all had me playing the narrator (a slightly modified version of myself), which involved memorizing quite a few lines. Because Jump-Start was between spaces, we had to turn the URBAN-15 studio into a 150 seat venue suitable for presenting a play with a heavy load of multimedia elements. Add to this, we had a different guest artist each night, and it’s no wonder that things became a bit complicated, logistically.

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Photo by Annette Landry. Kim and I in a scene from Tales of Lost Southtown.

There was also a preview reading of Tales of Lost Southtown presented at Gemini Ink, San Antonio’s preeminent literary organization. I was joined by my director and cast.

My short film, Feeding You, screened twice to packed houses at Say Sí. This was part of the Poet Laureate Short Film Project. I was chosen along with six other local filmmakers to craft a short film in response to one of Carmen Tafolla’s poems.

I was contracted by the King William Association to run a free workshop for artists and arts organizations to use the tools of digital media to better present their work and programming to their audiences and potential funders.

I am attached to two Artist Foundation grants. The one involving lead artist Amber Ortega-Perez (dancer and choreographer) is well underway. We already have two shoots in the can, and we have presented elements of the eventual piece as works-in-progress at the MAP event; a SpareWorks.dance fundraiser at Our Lady of the Lake University; and W-I-P Crème (which will be staged this coming Wednesday).

I’ve been shooting various scenes around town for two multimedia projects a friend who is a public artists is trying to get funding for.

There is a show for Australian TV which I’ve worked on the other week, where I provided the video interview of a well-regarded San Antonio artist. I believe the contract I signed mentioned something about non-disclosure, so I’ll leave it at that.

Coming up I have an eight minute performance art piece which will be presented every Friday and Saturday in June. This is for Jump-Start’s June variety show, Café du Jump: 8 x 8 (8 eight-minute pieces presented on an 8 foot by 8 foot stage for eight nights in June). My piece, which I should be writing right now, will be titled “A Freezer Full of Atrocities.” I have the title. Now I need a concept. But, really, no worries. It’s just eight minutes.

For August I, along with four other authors, will each present a 15 minute (give or take) presentation — poetry or prose — in reaction to one of Matisse’s illustrated books. This will be produced by Gemini Ink for the San Antonio Museum of Art. We will present the pieces at SAMA as part of their upcoming Matisse exhibition.

Also, in August, I will present a multimedia evening installation / performance at Confluence Park. This will be dance and video projection. I will be collaborating with Fabiola Torralba. I’m pretty sure she said yes…. This will be a Jump-Start-At-Large event, free and open to the public, with the generous assistance of the San Antonio River Foundation, who have been kind enough to offer us this beautiful space on the southside.

There will also be Oscuridad: A Night of Fairy Tales For Grownups. This will be the first “main-stage” show at the new Jump-Start. It will be written and designed by the ensemble. I hope to write at least one of the stories. And help on the video and tabletop puppet designs.

There will also be my fourth year collaborating with Seme Jatib for her November show for her dance students at St. Mary’s Hall. I’ll be doing some sort of video something.

And who knows what else I agreed to do. I’m very lucky that many of these projects are paying me. A couple, fairly well. This is important, because my part-time paid job shifted into a part-time volunteer job. So, what once was a gig which subsidized my creative work, has become the volunteer work which is being meagerly subsidized by the creative work. I’m not yet sure how I feel about this.

Payasos on Parade

Filmmaking, Performance, San Antonio

 

As part of the Jump-Start-At-Large spirit (performance art taken to the people), several company members took to the street during Fiesta 2014 to play with those folks not able to get down to the folding chairs of privilege set aside for the paying citizens during the River Parade.

Feeding You

Filmmaking, Movies

 

FEEDING YOU (2014).

Writer:

Carmen Tafolla (poem).

Director, DP. editor:

Erik Bosse

Additional production assistance from:

Billy Muñoz, Pamela Dean Kenny.

Cast:

Lisa Suarez, Grace Rain Landry Lopez, and Anna De Luna.

Music:

“Cumbia de la Cocina” by Jaime Ramirez and Travis Vela. Musicos: Jaime Ramirez, Travis Vela, and John Fernandez.

Special thanks:

Annette Landry, Jump-Start Performance Co., San Antonio Department for Culture and Creative Development, Three Chord Media, and the San Antonio Film Commission.

It was a great honor to be asked to contribute a film for the very first San Antonio Poet Laureate Short Film Project. I was selected along with six other filmmakers: Ray Santisteban, Daniela Riojas, Guillermina Zabala, Ya’Ke Smith, Joey Fauerso, and Jim Mendiola. Impressive company. Add to that the fact that San Antonio’s first poet laureate was Carmen Tafolla, made the whole project that much more special. I was given several of Carmen’s wonderful poems. I chose “Feeding You” for two reasons. It had a narrative quality I was drawn to. But also because when I read it, my mind went directly to Lisa and little Gracie. They were both so wonderful.

Here’s a production still with Lisa chopping tomatoes as Annette looks on.

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Here we have me at the screening (they showed all the films twice to packed audiences at the Say Sí black box theater), and also Gracie standing beside Carmen Tafolla (I had forgotten that they are old friends–I believe Carman has babysat Gracie before).

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There was a significant budget connected with these films, and I was so happy to be able to reward the hard work of people who so often work for little to no compensation. Here is one of my favorite photos from the shoot. I gave Gracie her first professional actress payment. She literally ran up and down the street with that hundred dollar bill fluttering from between her fingers. I believe she spent some of it on something called Build-a-Bear.

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