I’m back to making red chili gravy and putting it on every fucking thing in sight. My mother informed me that I should cut out all gluten because of a probable genetic intolerance passed down to me. I could find out for myself, but I barely have the money to buy gluten-loaded products, let alone expensive medical tests. I gave quick thought to what I’d have to cut out. And I mean completely. Pizza, flour tortillas, sandwiches (which aren’t encased in some sort of silly gluten-free stunt bread), and, yikes!, tacos. (Taco Note to those who live elsewhere: San Antonio, and much of La Frontera–USA and Mexico–is heavily fueled by flour tortillas. And when in a place like San Antonio you say you’re getting tacos, it’s usually something folded in a flour tortilla. True, with the growing presence of taco trucks offering taquitos in the estilo of Mexico, you gonna get corn tortillas, in keeping with the street food vendors so ubiquitous to every town in Mexico. And, yes, you can ask for a taco in a soft corn tortilla in the neighborhood cafes in San Antonio, but you do at your own peril. If they don’t make their own corn tortillas by hand, you’re fucked. There are few things on this planet sadder than a store-bought corn tortilla.)

Where was I? Oh, yeah. No more pizza. Fuck! I’m fucked!

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Wednesday I attended the latest community forum of San Antonio Mayor Julian Castro’s SA2020 consensus-building extravaganza. There have been, if I count correctly, four so far. I’ve attended all. And, cynically, I think they’re of questionable value. But I’ve gone this far, so I’ll keep going. There”s another in January. And that is either the last or the penultimate of these forums. The idea is for the public to add their voices as to how they would like to see this city ten years from now.

We met in the indoors basketball court of St. Mary’s University. It was an evening meeting. The Food Bank was the caterer. (They also fed us at the last one, where the breakfast tacos were accompanied by, not salsa, but one lone bottle of fucking Louisiana hot sauce.) All I can say is that no one would freak-out over civil irresponsibility of money being pissed away on sushi, prime rib, or churning chocolate fountains. We were lucky to find a paper napkin in out styrofoam boxes holding the sandwich of choice, veggies, cookie, and fruit cup. It was similar to being on Southwest Airlines, however there was slightly more legroom to enjoy our repast.

The space had been divided into about eight regions, each concentrating on a different issue. Transportation; education; crime and public safety; economic development; shit like that. I was hanging out at one of the tables in the Arts and Culture section. Each table had a facilitator. I was lucky to be at the table where Felix Padrón, the director of the Office of Cultural Affairs, was facilitating. I like Felix. He has a playful sense of humor, but he also gets things done. I was also sitting with three other people from the arts community who I know well and respect: Rod Rubbo, Liz Moise, and George Cisneros.

There were eight of us at the table. We each had a copy of the “vision statement” concerning where the arts in San Antonio should be in 2020 (this is something which had been created through the previous meetings). We were supposed to come to an agreement on what would be the two primary trackable indicators by which we would know that this vision, this desired outcome, was indeed coming into being. And then, four secondary indicators. A list of possible indicators had also been given to us. This list came from input from a previous forum. Things got pretty heated at our table. We eventually came up with a list. I’m not sure how democratic this process was, but I knew that it wasn’t so important as the next step.

We took a break. And then each division gathered around a central table and shared their notes. We had maybe eight tables in the arts. When the indicators with the most advocates were written down on a large pad of paper, we began the process of taking turns to shout out our reasons that this or that was most important. It was essentially grassroots politics (and as I’ve remarked at least once before in this blog, what the fuck has happened to Robert’s Rules of Order?–it’s supposed to make things like this move more smoothly….). We eventually came to a consensus. But I have no memory of what it was.

I walked out with Victor Payan and Sandra “Pocha Pena” Sarmiento (they were sitting at the table beside me). When we entered the lobby of the sports arena, Sandra walked over to the tables with the remainders of the boxed dinners. She mentioned the names of a couple of artists she and Victor would be seeing later that night. They scooped up about six boxes. I’d have got some for myself. Hell, I’m unemployed. But, dammit, gluten. And, double dammit, I realized at the moment that I had just eaten two slices of bread from my boxed dinner a couple hours earlier.

This isn’t going to be so easy.

I followed Victor and Sandra to their car. They’d told me that they had extra copies of the SA Current. And I wanted one. I was curious how the group photo for the upcoming “Rudos y Tecnicos” show came out. I was in that photo.

Well, the photo looks pretty good.

Sandra said that there was a Flickr stream from the shoot, I checked it out. Erik Gustafson is the photographer. He’s a damn fine shooter, not to mention a very sweet guy. Here’s a photo of me.

The girls are, from left to right, Jessica Torres and Sandra Torres. Daughter and mother. (I have been, and will continue to be, a staunch advocate of Jessica, who is an important San Antonio filmmaker–and because she sometimes reads this blog, I want to see more work from you Jessica! You need a camera? Borrow one of mine. Just get out there and do some new stuff, why dontcha?)

Maybe a year ago Pocha had asked me to take part in a photo shoot. I was to play the part of a redneck Minute Man. And Jessica and Sandra would be Minute Maids. This is Pocha’s playful concept of passive resistance against armed bigots on the border. Send in sweet and polite Mexicanas with aprons and feather dusters. Pocha’s photo series — her photo novella — was apparently used at some conference on border concerns or feminists issues. I think Pocha will be projecting the photos before the three of us take to the stage (the ring), thus putting this into context.

And so, Jessica, Sandra, and I will all reprise our roles. My outfit has been upgraded to this absurd red, white, and blue sequin jacket with “USA” on the sleeves. This is all for Saturday night where we’re going to be acting. I’m no actor. And to ask an introverted anarcho-communist to be a big-mouthed nationalistic racist, is quite a request. Well, we’ll see. At least I’ll be surrounded by friends.

Rudos y Tecnicos. Gallista Gallery. 5-10 PM. Saturday, December 11. I believe the theatrical skits will begin around 7:30. The problem is, I have a paid gig video-taping a dance recital at the Hindu Temple of San Antonio, which is way the fuck up past Helotes. I hope I can make it down into the S. Flores region in time to make a grand fool of myself.

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Back on Tuesday was the screening of the San Antonio 48 Hour Film Experience. I’d given some assistance to the team led by Rod Guajardo. But, because his film hit some technical difficulties, it was not allowed into the judging. So, when Drew Mayer-Oakes, the director of the San Antonio Film Commission, asked if I’d be a judge, I agreed. The team I worked on was out of the competition, so there would be no conflict of interest.

As a judge I have been given a DVD to watch the films. And even though I attended the screening back on Tuesday, I won’t take the judging seriously until I watch the films again, with an eye to detail.

I will say this. I was somewhat disappointed. There were two or three teams who should have kicked ass because of the smart and creative folks on the crews. But–yikes! Great? Not hardly! And then there were a couple of teams who I had no hope for because they were being helmed by, let’s face it, imbeciles…or so I thought. It was truly a night of surprises!

And so, I guess it was a success. The teams which I thought would succeed and, didn’t, were off-set by those who I thought would fail, and didn’t. The fact is, things can go bad fast in these sort of quickie productions. But, it seems, things can also go unexpectedly well.

Before I sit down and watch these films again, I want to say this to the three or four San Antonio filmmakers who read my blog. If you ever do one of these film races, take my following advice. Give your writer (or writing team) at least ten hours to write the script. It’s probable that their first idea is shit. This is why you should give them the gift of time. And in this ten hour period, make sure they edit the piece into a simple yet damn strong script. Have them prune it down. And spend that same ten hours allowing the pre-production team to hover there, breaking down the script in progress. Because when the project moves into the production phase and the camera has actually been removed from its case, there damn well better be storyboards, or at least the most rudimentary of a shot list. What I’m getting at is: don’t monkey with the script during production! I know it’s tempting because of expedience. But, trust me, you’ll hate yourself later.

My biggest problems with the films which screened Tuesday night? I had no idea what the fuck was going on in most of them There were several pieces with some strong production value. But even those made me think, wait a minute, what the fuck is it that these characters are doing? When the script has been locked, DO NOT dick around around with it. It’s 48 hours, folks, and I guarantee if you treat your script and storyboards cavalierly, the whole structure will fall apart. Of course I’m talking about making a GOOD film in 48 hours. The truth is, you can break these rules left and right if the project is one of those meta self-referential intentionally bad videos. This is more in the realm of a mockumentary, and these projects come with their own set of potential pitfalls. Enter at your own risk.

These speed film contests are shit. No one can make a decent movie in 48 hours. I’m philosophically opposed to them. But, dammit, I wanted to do one myself. My problem: I was hoping that an important well-paying job in Dallas would materialize. See, I desperately need money. But the job didn’t happen. And I also didn’t make my 48 hour movie.

So, my grousing is partially sour grapes. The truth is, I respect the courage and commitment of all the people who participated in this project. And my hat is off to Drew Mayer-Oakes and the San Antonio Film Commission for creating and fostering this wonderful grass roots local contest. It does a wonderful job of bringing so many of us together in the spirit of camaraderie and respectful competition.

And, yes, I hope I can do it next year.

I’m essentially an introvert as well as a recovering social phobic. And thus I’m constantly shocked by how well (at times) I can navigate social landscapes. Back in my early twenties I wrote a fairly autobiographical short story where the protagonist worked a series of jobs in the service sector during the graveyard shift so that the only people he had to interact with were mentally ill or seriously intoxicated. The ending left the central character dubiously and most certainly ineffectually trying to convince himself that the world at large is nothing more than an extension of those familiar spaces in which he is already comfortable moving through. Nothing more and nothing less than rooms leading into other rooms. It took a couple of decades of me trying to make sense out of the adult world to finally embrace that concept as a reality. And, certainly, the city of San Antonio makes this worldview so easy. I know a lot of folks who live here (natives, and transplants, such as myself) who move through this city as though they are welcomed everywhere; and every neighborhood, every business, and every institution is filled with family members. This is a tightly interconnected city. And, honestly, if someone doesn’t know how he or she is related to you, it assumed by all that a very short conversation (which may or may not happen) will clear it all up. And so it is la familia, all around. San Antonio is clearly the city where everyone is considered to be related. And even if all evidence points to the contrary, we all just assume it’s simply a lack of digging deep enough.

This week’s been fairly busy, with me moving from room to room filled with people whose lives, in so many different ways, I’m intertwined.

Highlights included:

A little volunteer gig at URBAN-15 where we did a tech-run with the newish A/V equipment they have purchased from a recent grant. About twelve members of the drum ensemble were present, as well as about ten dancers. We were set up in the sanctuary. The URBAN-15 Studio building used to be a church, and so this is what they call the biggest space, which is used for dance rehearsals, performances, movie screenings, poetry readings, laser shows, etc. The old choir loft had been, at one point, converted into six little offices. Four of the offices have windows which look down into the sanctuary, and they are part of a sort of mezzanine level. One of these offices is where the TriCaster has been installed.

I’d never worked with a TriCaster before. This is a video switcher on steroids. It’s a device a bit bigger than two shoe boxes. It takes multiple video and audio feeds and allows you to mix them in real time. The resulting signal can be stored on the machine’s large internal hard drive, shunted to another hard drive, sent to a monitor, a video projector, or streamed live in the internet (using a wide variety of A/V compression formats and codecs); or, do all of the above. It also works as a standalone video editing suite, as it comes bundled with NewTek’s robust and intuitive video editing software, SpeedEdit. NewTek is a San Antonio company. Their TriCaster doesn’t come cheap, but it’s a real workhorse. For the past few years, mega-churches have been the primary market, as they have some serious in-house production and live broadcast needs. But as more organizations are thinking of broadcasting via the internet, the market for these boxes is steadily growing.

Jonathan gave me a crash course on the system. We were doing a very simple test. Two camera’s, both standard definition. One was the remote-controlled robot camera which was mounted on the north wall. It was also purchased with the grant monies. Catherine, the artistic director of URBAN-15, has a habit of naming everything, from pets, ghosts, hard drives, and, yes, remote-controlled robot cameras. This guy’s Klaatu, from The Day the Earth Stood Still. Now Catherine knows her way around science-fiction films. She may well know that Klaatu, in that film, was the humanoid (played by Michael Rennie), while the robot was named Gort. I’m pretty sure I knew this once, but I had to head to Wikipedia for a reality check. And even if she made a mistake, it just makes it the easier to give a name to that second remote-controlled robot camera which will be purchased and installed once another grant comes through. But I digress. The second camera was my DVX, parked on a tripod down on the sanctuary floor and hardwired into the TriCaster via a very fucking long s-video cable. For the moment, the switcher is the space bar on the keyboard hooked up to the TriCaster. The controller to the robot is much more interesting. It has chingos of presets. But best of all is the joystick. It allows for incredibly smooth zooms and pans. This works great with Klaatu, as the camera handles low light quite well. It’s widest angle is maybe equivalent to a 35mm or 45mm lens. Could be better. It does, however, hold a clear image when it’s zooms in tight. I was able to read an URBAN-15 volunteer signup sheet on a clipboard 30 feet away from where the camera is mounted on the wall.

I had a lot of fun running that little production studio as we ran through three numbers several times each. The whole setup has a great deal of promise.

Highlight #2:

“Rudos y Tecnicos.” This is a performance created by Victor Payan and Pocha Peña, AKA Aztec Gold. Pocha y Payan have been working on this collaborative project for several years. They began Aztec Gold in San Diego (or so I assume), and they continue it here in San Antonio, as well as any place they can go and work their magic. The core concept is a series of videos, presented in TV magazine style, where the host, Lou Chalibre, a masked wrestler, does run-and-gun interviews. He’s been seen talking with folks such as Jack Black, Los Bros Hernandez (they of Love and Rockets fame), and even San Antonio icons like Monessa Esquivel.

This “Rudos y Tecnicos” show is something they’ve done at least twice before that I know of. The basic idea is to get local artists to develop wrestling personae. Masks are encouraged. The artists are expected to come up with socially relevant issues against which they are struggling. Mexicano issues are most pressing. Immigration, drug trafficking, language and cultural cohesion, questions of nationalism, queer identity in a minority setting, etc.

A quick note on the name. In the world of Mexican wrestling, there are bad guys and good guys. The bad guys are los rudos, the rule-breakers, the brawlers. The good guys, los técnicos, follow the rules and they are proud of their sophisticated understanding of the elaborate moves of proper, traditional wrestling.

This dichotomy allows Pocha y Payan to consider the metaphoric subtext. They ask the question: “Are you a rudo or a tecnico?” And because this is culture-jamming performance art, they extend this metaphor all the way down to the chaotic backstories of the Mesoamerican mythos.

I’m very found of Victor and Sandra (AKA Pocha Peña), and when they mentioned, months ago, that they wanted me to be a part of this “Lucharrific San Antonio Extravaganza,” I of course said a very encouraging “maybe.” And sometimes my noncommittal “maybe” become clear in the ears as “hell, yeah!”

So, the other day, I found myself attending the photo shoot at Gallista Gallery. The photographer was from the San Antonio Current. And it seemed that this Lucha thingy will be the cover story. So, of the various photos being snapped, one would, I assume, be splashed on the cover. Perhaps one featuring myself.

I was there to help out however I could. Artist Jim Haught had built a stage / wrestling ring. I helped him assemble the roped stage. And so I watched the stars of this project gather: Marisela Barrera, L.A. David, Adan Hernandez, David Zamora Casas, Joe Lopez, Sandra Torres, and, of course, Jessica Torres.

Victor and Pocha were wanting me to reprise my role as the Minuteman from the photo novel Pocha did of me playing the role of a white bigot. I had held up a sign — “America for Americans” — and these Minute Maids (a concept Pocha developed as an absurdist way to fight these white supremacist armed assholes) would be there, on the front line, trying to deflate the tension via a sort of comedic form of non-violent interaction. The slide show we’d done some months back involved me being harried by Sandra and Jessica Torres, a mother / daughter team whose diminutive stature made me look like a threatening giant…a giant who was placated by their maidly domestic skills of removing lint from my gimme cap, brushing my face and glasses clean with feather dusters, and offering me a refreshing glass of orange juice.

So, me playing Santa was switched to me as a big-mouthed white bigot.

The idea is that Pocha’s original slideshow with me and Jessica and her mom would be screened, and THEN is when I’d take stage. So, I wasn’t given a mask. Just this insanely weird red, white, and blue sequined jacket that Victor and Sandra had found at an estate sale which would not have seemed unusual on Evil Knievel…mutha fucka! (And when Payan pointed out to me that “these colors don’t run,” Jim Haught responded: “But they sure do clash.” This man, Jim, he needs a fucking agent!)

This means that if the group shot is used as the cover of next week’s Current, I’ll be one of the few people not wearing a mask.

Whatever the outcome, the whole afternoon was great fun.

But it DOES mean that I need to come up with some sort of schtick….

Highlight #3:

I’d been requested to video tape the First Friday show at Jump-Start Performance Company. Often for First Friday they will do some free performance in their large window which looks out onto the wide alleyway in the Blue Star Arts Complex. For December the show was called Behind the Mistletoe, a Christmas burlesque show which would be just as sexy as one would expect from a free and publicly viewable event. There were to be two performances, and this was good for me. I would be able to cut material from each show into something more closely resembling a multi-camera shoot.

I got there early and made the rounds of several galleries and studios. Talked to several friends. And finally got to meet artist Chicken George (AKA, George Zupp), who I’d only ever know via FaceBook emails.

The Jump-Start show was broken into two levels. A warm and homey domestic set outside, where ST Shimi sat in a comfy chair next to a Christmas tree and roaring fire enjoying a hot toddy. She was wearing a long and flowing silk robe which I was pretty sure would be tossed off before the evening was over. Twice. With a pre-recorded voice-over narration, she pretended to read from a gigantic book (presumably of sexy Christmas stories). And then we’d transition to some curvaceous bombshell in the window divesting herself of various holiday costumes–elf, reindeer, toy soldier, etc. Eventually Annele Spector, dressed as a very very sexy Santa came out and danced around with Shimi.

They both walked into the theater. And then, Shimi was up in the window, taking her turn at the striptease. All very sweet and innocent. And of course, sexy.

(This new Burlesque is far from new. It’s right out of the fifties and sixties, fairly devoid of raunch. Though I do like all the tattoos and the wide range of body types. It is a far cry from the hyper-raunchery of my time as light and sound man at a sleazy “burlesque” theater in New Jersey decades ago. The dream job for a 19 year old kid–I was that kid. I remember when Hyapatia Lee came to perform for a week. The regular girls were in awe. “This is real, old school burlesque,” one of them said to me. And she was good. Classy in comparison to the other girls, barely a rung above the “go-go dancers” of whom they were so contemptuous. Hyapatia had props, like a giant champagne glass she’d climb into. And when on tour her husband would take over the lights and sound–they had this super-cool rotating glass disk of technicolor clouds with a powerful light shining through it stage-ward. Naive at the time–call it youth–I wasn’t aware that she was also a fairly big name in the porn movie market. All I knew was that what had become tiresome bumps and grinds had shifted to, for a week, at least, something almost classy. The real burlesque of a time gone by.)

Highlight #4:

This weekend was the San Antonio 45 Film Experience. I’ve wanted to run my own team. But I was in a holding pattern concerning a job which may or maynot happen out of town. It didn’t. But I didn’t know that until the last minute.

I had two requests to join teams. Drew Mayer-Oakes. And Rod Guajardo. I kept them in the “maybe” limbo, because, truly I didn’t know my schedule.

But Friday night, while I was between the two burlesque shows, I noticed I had a text message on my phone from Rod. He was still wanting some audio equipment. I called him and said he could borrow my shotgun mic, boom pole, and shock mount, if he still needed them. He said yes he did. He also wanted my assistance as a general crew member. They were going to start shooting at ten o’clock. That night. I suggested that I might be able to make it in the morning, but not tonight. He said, fine.

And so, Saturday morning, I drove out to a large horse ranch — one of those places where privileged girls who own ponies, board their critters. It was a great location. Loads of production value. I mean, fucking horses, hay bales, barns, and shit like that. Can’t go wrong.

The first problem was that my audio equipment was useless. Both of my long XLR cables have shorts. Really, I should just shell out the thirty or so bucks to get a new one, but I tend to spend all my money on rent and food. I’d thought Rod was going to bring a cable, but he’d forgotten in the rush. Anyway, they’d been using a Rode microphone plugged into a tiny Zoom solid-state recorder–all using mini plugs, so perhaps it was best that they kept using that set-up for continuity.

Ultimately, I don’t know if I was really much use. I held the slate. Made a few suggestions. Oh well. I hope it comes together. I had a lot of fun. Many of those people I’ve worked with before. A great cast and crew. But I get somewhat uncomfortable when I’m on set and can’t find a single complete copy of the script. Sometimes you can get by with winging it without storyboards and shot lists, but, why risk it? It’s easy to gin out basic plans even when on location.

We wrapped on time. That was impressive! And Rod and a couple others headed off to begin the editing process. I headed home and thought no more about it.

Sunday evening I realized I didn’t know where my phone was. I checked in my truck and found it. There was a message from Rod. He called around 4:30. I didn’t hear the message after seven in the evening. The deadline for turning in the finished edit had passed, I presumed. His message led me to believe that he had been having problems printing to tape. I tried to call back, but just got voice mail.

This has come up in past years. Not just with the San Antonio home-grown 48 Hour film race, but the national one as well (which I used to work for). There are people out there who make movies, particularly amateur filmmakers, who have never worked with Standard Definition video. Their work originates on HD, either tape or more commonly files on hard drives or removable cards. And because these folks never work with media which originated on miniDV tape, they just aren’t used to providing a finished product in this manner. I understand the frustration of hitting a wall with a deadline looming and what you thought would be easy, just isn’t.

Someone I know was bitching on FaceBook about this whole miniDV tape issue. Her problem was why would someone demand that a movie which was shot on High Def be delivered on SD mDV tape? Well, contest, festivals, movie races, and so on should be treated as clients. The rules say the deliverables have to be on miniDV, so don’t make a big deal out of this. Take some time in advance to learn if this is something you can do. Also, if you’re shooting and editing in HD, you’d better find out how long it will take you to create a standard definition NTSC file on your editing system and your computer. And then know that you can hook up a camera or deck and record that file to tape, and budget your time accordingly.

Bitch all you want to. But I’ll back him up. If Drew wants the finished short films delivered on miniDV tape it’s because this is a stable and standard format. When he gets around to making the master tape or DVD for the eventual screening, he’s already burdened with a variety of frame-rates and aspect ratios. My suggestion is that if you want to bitch and kvetch, please spend some time programing a film festival before you toss stone number one.

All this aside, I’m looking forward to seeing the films that were hastily cobbled together this weekend.

Oh what the am I saying. Most of them are gonna suck.

People, it’s supposed to be fun. Not good.

And when it’s both?

Bravo!

I’ve been in a holding pattern of vagueness and ambiguity. The auction house in Dallas which provides me with the lion’s share of my meager income (allowing me to live this rather carefree wastrel lifestyle) is currently working on brokering a large acquisition. If it happens, I might be asked to travel to Dallas to help catalogue, research, etc. Or not. But as this punctuated gig has been so lucrative, I feel a need to be able to jump when called.

I had wanted to run my own team for the San Antonio 48 Hour Film Experience, but there was no way I could commit to the responsibility of contacting crew and actors. However, two different teams contacted me to help out. But even being a crew member on another team was something I didn’t want to commit to. Okay, so that now it’s looking like there’s no Dallas work this week, I’m wondering, do I want to throw myself into a stressful weekend? And if so, on which team? I mean, there might be some local jackass on one of these teams–you know, some guy or gal with whom I’d never work with were I getting paid. That’s sting, you know, suddenly I find myself with one of these clowns…working for free.

I’m conflicted.

Anyway, today I did make commitments to two other free video gigs this week. Thursday I’m out at URBAN-15 working on a tech run involving their new TriCaster (an impressive piece of production hardware developed here in San Antonio by NewTek). It’ll be a two camera shoot. I suspect I’ll place my DVX on sticks and feed it’s signal, via s-video, into the TriCaster up in the A/V booth of the URBAN-15 performance space. There will also be a feed from a wall-mounted robot camera which can be shifted and zoomed from a joy stick. I’d better get there early, because I think I’m expected to run all this myself.

And on Friday, I’ll be video-taping the First Friday performance at Jump-Start Performance Space. They’re doing a Christmas burlesque show in the window of their theater. It should be pretty good, seeing as they have quite a few sexy company members.

Speaking of Jump-Start, I just received my email invitation to be part of their annual performance party. The Jump-Start company is a tight and rather incestuous clique. I am in awe of most all of them. The work which comes out of Jump-Start is, in my opinion, rather uneven. But, hands down, this is one of the few places in the city where true art happens. Jump-Start is the crown jewel of theater in San Antonio. It pushes boundaries, it is inclusive, and it is clearly aware of what is happening in the community. The mere fact that people there know who I am is exciting. And that they are aware of my work and find it of value, that’s pretty sweet.

So, I guess I need to make a short film in December. My idea is a faux newscast. My maximum runtime is 7 minutes. I think I want to use it all. I guess I’d better start working on a script.

And then I have recently been made aware that I’m part of Payan y Pocha’s “Rudos y Tecnicos: a Lucarrific San Antonio Extravaganza.” It’s a Mexican wrestler performance piece which will take place in the back courtyard of Gallista Gallery, where a real wrestling ring will be set up. This is what happens when I tell people “maybe” when they ask me for something. There are quite a few folks who know that when I say “maybe” I mean “no.” Oh, well. No huge problem here. I’m very found of Victor and Sandra (AKA, Payan y Pocha). And even though I am no performer, I guess it won’t kill me to put on a Mexican wrestling mask and come up with some sort of shtick. I’ve got until Dec. 11. There had been some talk of, um, having me as some sort of Lucha Santa. Obviously because I’m so fat. This is actually when I turned on my “um, well, let’s say MAYBE,” reaction. I mean, wouldn’t you? But there is something rather appealing about being the worst and most villainous asshole, who just happens to be Santa Claus…wearing a Mexican wrestler mask.The problem is that I can only offer my obesity. I’m no actor.

We’ll see. I’ll have to give this some thought.

Okay, so here’s when things get a bit strange with my November Novel (i.e. the manuscript I’m working on for National Novel Writing Month). The tentative title is “The River in November.” And there is no way I’m gonna make the requisite 50,000 words by Tuesday, midnight. I’ll be lucky to reach the 35,000 count (this is about where I reached the two other years I tried). Now the conceit, the concept, the foundational structure of this “novel” is that I would write it journal style, with daily postings. Each day would be a fairly accurate account of my real life (first person narration). Sure, there’d be some embellishment. And eventually I’d go back and change the names of my friends, enemies, and acquaintances. There is also a sleuthing plot which is 100 percent fictional. A magical realism story line where I (aided by a fictionalized version of a well-known local artist) try and track down a mysterious homeless illegal alien who may indeed hold the secrete key to blah blah blah. Right?

So I mentioned it gets a bit strange. Tonight I read an excerpt of the piece at the Gemini Ink free monthly writers’ workshop. How meta! And so now, tonight, I need to write the penultimate fictional journal entry for “The River in November” with a description of the fictional “me” reading a passage of the journal at a writers group. I hadn’t intended for a self-referential interlude. I’m not sure how deep I want to delve into some of the other writers who showed up. This monthly group is ever-changing. And often, like tonight, we have some real shit. There was a guy who showed up with an “outline” for a science fiction novel or perhaps a comic book. I felt like throwing the sheet of paper back in his face. “What the fuck is this? This is just a bunch of random words. They don’t mean anything.” However, in his defense I will say he seemed to know how to operate spell check. And, to be honest, that’s further down the road than so many other “creative” people I know. And then there was this Christian writer. A woman–and they almost always are. I wanted to crumple up her four pages and throw them back in her face. “God damn it! Don’t you people know that religious fiction can never be true literature because the only subtext it can allow is pre-existent in the bible? And, unless you’ve never read the books of Old and / or New Testaments, you should be quite aware that these ancient books are crap as literature. The characters’ motivations are all irrational, and what passes for conflict is puerile and two-dimensional. The only interesting character in the New Testament is Judas. Forget Jesus. Judas, yeah, there’s your inner conflict.” Oh, well, I will admit that this Christian woman was very nice and had a good grasp of descriptive prose.

But I digress.

My November novel.

I would like to say to those few individuals who read this blog and know me personally: “Thanks for giving me stuff to write about!” Well, this only applies if we hung out or spoke or texted or emailed during November. And don’t worry, I’ll try not to make you appear too fat or overly petty (unless you’re, well, you know who you are).

So, the fact that I’ve been working on my November Novel has kept me from adding to this blog. Two reasons. One, I’ve been otherwise engaged in writing. Two, because the manuscript is also in a journal form, so I feel I’ve already captured my November life elsewhere.

So now, g’night. I’m off to add to my word count.

And because I should embellish this posting with something, here’s a random picture of a salt shaker I took at some event recently.

I’m about a third of the way through the 50,000 word commitment I’ve made as a participant of the National Novel Writing Month. This is the third time I’ve done this. The two previous attempts never got beyond the 35,000 limited.

The working title of this is “The River in November.” What I’m doing is essentially keeping a journal of my day to day life. Sure, I’m inserting a fictional plot–I mean, I would like someone else to want to read this. I plan to have this fictional story line become increasingly bizarre in that slip-stream or “new weird” manner.

November is a strange month generally in San Antonio. It kicks off with Halloween, and then moves into two more days of macabre costuming and behavior what with Dia de los Muertos. In fact, many of the Day of the Dead stuff continues throughout the month, with many galleries keeping the work up until December.

November is also a rather busy month for me this year. Thank god I don’t have a job. How do you people manage? I mean, Monday, November 1st I attended the Luminaria press conference. The night and the following I video-taped three performances by URBAN-15. There’s been a series of committee work for Luminaria, as well as the Adelante Film Forum–this will finally be over next Monday, as the forum is this coming weekend. I have pre-production work for at least two film projects I want to do this winter. And on and on. But there is something intriguing about allowing this rather hectic month to serve as the backdrop to a novel. There are people and organizations who seem to be moving to the foreground, if for no other reason than that I’m currently working on projects with them.

One of the things about working on a piece of fiction in this manner is that if you let the real world freely enter into the fiction, you find yourself going in unexpected directions. The most obvious situation so far this month is the tragic death of Chuck Ramirez. I’ve known of Chuck for at least as long as I’ve lived in San Antonio. That’s seven or eight years. We had many friends in common for quite some time, but I never met Chuck until we both found ourselves on various Luminaria committees. I have to admit I know more about him since his death back on Friday night than I ever knew before then. I’ve been seeing all the impassioned and heartbroken comments on his FaceBook page, and so many were sharing personal stories. I also watched the series of YouTube clips from a SAMA artist conversation between Chuck and David Rubin.

The more I learn about the guy, the sadder I get. It’s awful to learn that you really like someone, but it’s too late. Chuck was my age. He has more people who love him than any of us could ever hope. I plan to head over to Blue Star for his memorial Thursday night. The gallery and the parking lot will no doubt to packed.

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Years ago I did something similar to this current fictional experiment. There was a time when I was 21 or 22. I keep a dual journal.

Each night I would write two pages. I was using my beloved Royal standard manual typewriter with 11 point type. I had the habit in those days of pushing out the margins and allowing no spaces between lines. I forgot how many words I was able to cram on a page, but it was impressive. The first page was a run through of what I did that day. The second page was what I believed I would do the following day. This experiment allowed several things to happen. One was for me to see if by writing that I would do something which I might be uncomfortable doing, would it happen? It also let me track how much of what I planed to do each day did or did not happen. I also occasionally tossed in some very unlikely incidents…none which happened.

What I find interesting about this approach of twining journaling and fiction is this question: will I decided to do certain things over other things because this one thing is much more interesting for the fictional character Erik to do. Actually, this helped get me out of the house Friday night to walk downtown for the the Latin Music Festival at Main Plaza. I knew it’s be something to write about.

And now I’m thinking to use this as a rational as to why I don’t want to do certain things.

“What? Oh, no. That won’t do at all. I can’t help you. See, I’m writing a first-person non-fiction novel, and unless you expect an alien invasion, dogs wearing laser guns, or live sex acts, I can’t. It sounds just too dang boring. But have fun!”

I guess the same rational can be given if you’re a blogger.

“The fuck you asking me to do? I’ve loyal readers, man. There’s no way I can take such banality to these people. Shame on you. Shame. On. You.”

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Here’s the photo section.

We begin with some shots from the Dia de los Muertos performances at HemisFair Park, Nov. 2nd, 2010.

And here are some detailed shots of a cool Dia de los Muertos altar at Centro Cultural Aztlan.

And, several days later here are some photos from the Latino Music Festival at San Antonio’s Main Plaza.

The food court.

The incomparable ST Shimi, hooping it up.

And Nortec Collective Presents: Bostitch + Fussible, who were fucking outstanding!

Program director Marisela Barrera is the heart and soul of Main Plaza. Sure, she’s a crucial part of the San Antonio theater and performance art scene, but if all she did was book incredible events at Main Plaza, she’s still earn a star on my boulevard. And I’m still kicking myself for missing Marisela’s performance at the last W.I.P. I’m such a heel…..

[Written Nov. 1, 2010.]

Oh, November. The beginning of the bullshit holidays and the coming of the dreaded winter. I’m not much of a fan of Halloween. I think I should be. I have always loved the whole;e morbid graveyard motif. Maybe I just feel it’s embraced by a bunch of fucking amateurs.

Anyway, I managed to keep a low profile during Halloween on my block. I received a text message from Mistress Kat, my dominatrix friend with whom I used to celebrate Halloween. But she fell in love, went off and got married. Probably divorced by now. But what do I know. Love rules supreme…for some people.

Here are my neighbors on Halloween with a Wizard of Oz motif.

This morning I got up and hammered out some questionable verbiage….I’m doing the National Novel Writing Month thing again.

And then I headed to URBAN-15 to pick up Catherine’s Flip-Camera and so I could borrow her monopod. I was asked to video tape their November 1st performance at the Instituto de Mexico in HemisFair Park.

A busy day for me and HemisFair Park. I had that 4pm press conference under the clock tower. Me and my Luminaria brethren were there with our mayor explaining to god and everyone why this new improved 2011 Luminaria Arts Night in San Antonio would make all our whites whites and our colors more colorful.

As press conferences go, it seemed quite successful. Some members of the press showed up. Maybe four. And we had so many more artists than for last year’s press conference (when we had, what, one?). Anyway, we had some great entertainment. The very talented and very young dancer and aerialist Julia Langenberg. She did an ariel dance performance on silks hung from the clock tower. I spoke with her afterwards. She’s an amazing and articulate young woman.

We also had, as entertainment, Hyperbubble, a high-energy retro future duo who should be the soundtrack to the brilliant Paleo-Future blog.

I was happy to see so many artists there. Many of my friends came down to fly the flag of San Antonio arts. Film was well represented by Victor Payan, my co-chair in the film / media committee. He was chosen to speak. Veronica Potter-Hernandez, wonderful filmmaker and my Luminaria co-chair in 2009 was present. We also had one of our film committee members, the very talented Jessica Torres, who, though still a teenager, has won many awards with a series of weird and wonderful and very smart short films. When Susanne Cooper (co-chair of Luminaria) asked for committee members to come and stand in front of the stage, I was proud to be up there with my fellow co-chair, Victor Payan, as well as committee member Jessica, both whom I consider to be my colleagues and friends.

After the press conference, I headed home to take my laundry off the line.

And then, a couple of hours later, I was heading back to HemisFair Park. URBAN-15 was preforming for the Instituto de Mexico’s Dia de los Muertos celebration.

I parked just south of Durango Street in front of my office. I grabbed a shoulder bag with my camera, batteries, a couple of lenses, and a monopod. It was starting to get dark, and I was afraid I might be running late so I hurried to the meeting place.

I join the URBAN-15 dancers and drummers in the parking lot of the Magik Theatre. I pulled out my camera and shot some footage of the troupe suiting up in their elaborate costumes–the women were in white full skirts decked out in flashing LED lights and glow sticks. The drummers favored black suits, spats over shoes, and fedoras.

Once the performers had secured their calaveras masks–the ones who didn’t have their faces painted as skulls–we all walked to the pedestrian concourse in front of the Instituto de Mexico. (I had been in that exact place just three hours earlier for the Luminaria press conference.) I shot some more scenes of the performers going through last minute instructions. They would be following a more traditional folkloric dance group from the Guadalupe Cultural Center. I broke away and went to shoot some of their work–the performances were outside, in the Plaza de Mexico. But I wasn’t there just to watch the other folks, I also planted Catherine’s little Flip-Camera on a tiny tripod hidden on a statue. The audience was smaller than last year. But then I remembered, tonight wasn’t the Day of the Dead. It was tomorrow. And there is be another performance then. I’d be there. I just hoped a larger crowd would as well.

When the Guadalupe group ended their story of life and death and the dead behaving as the living, I pushed the start button on the Flip, and marched into the middle of the Plaza to shoot URBAN-15 as the marched upon us with swirling taffeta, flashing lights, and hypnotic drumming, loud and urgent. You heard it your chest, with your feet and fingertips answered back that primal call.

They played four pieces. The first two were intense, with the dancers moving in a large circle as the drummers stationed themselves along the back wall of the Instituto. The next two numbers were intense, in a different way. More Dionysian, more inclusive. This is when the dancers began approaching the audience and dragging them into the circular dance. It’s mainly kids and women. But some men. Before I began working with URBAN-15 I recall having been pulled up on my feet on a couple of occasions.

After the show in the Plaza, the dancers and drummers headed into the Instituto’s galleries. I followed along, smiling at Gabriella, the director of the Instituto. She’;s a wonderful and warm woman who still manages to run a tight ship. Her eight employees–all Mexican Nationals like her, I presume–seem to adore her. URBAN-15 moved through all the galleries, on both floors, and they must have performed and addition four musical numbers. I was exhausted just watching them.

Shit. What am I doing with my life? I awoke mid morning on this beautiful Saturday. The world was full of promise. I had but one small obligation. I needed to be at the preeminent San Antonio literary nonprofit, Gemini Ink, to sit in on my filmmaker friend Dora Peña’s screenwriting class. Two to four in the afternoon. Well, fine. I still could have done all sorts of stuff. Sadly all I managed to accomplish was to get lunch from the drive-in lane of Eddie’s Taco House (the woman waiting on me was dressed in her Halloween costume, a fairly fetching Dora the Explorer outfit). And then I just lounged around home surfing the internet and watching live video feeds from Jon Stewart and Steven Colbert’s Washington, DC rally.

The other Eric Bosse (writer, filmmaker, etc, currently living in Oklahoma) was in attendance. As well as a trio of San Antonioans I know: Shimi, Oscar, and Craig. It looks like it was a lot of fun.

But, really, all I was able to carry out today was my short appearance at Dora’s gig at The Ink. (That’s Dora Peña, not that explorer kid.)

I was invited with two other local production people–Nikki Young and Veronica Potter-Hernandez–to give feedback to Dora’s students when they began pitching their script ideas. There were, I believe, eight students. They ranged in age from 18 to 65. The fact is I have no idea if any of them can write. All we got were their pitches, heavily condensed versions of their scripts, verbally conveyed. Of the eight, there were only two who I am almost positive are clueless of story structure, and thus are wholly unsuited to write. But if my intuition can be trusted, two poor writers out of eight is pretty damn good.

There was a point when Dora stressed the importance of networking. She told these writers that they needed to get out where producers, agents, et al. congregate. These people are hardly ever found in San Antonio. Conferences, festivals, and wisely planned trips to LA are the best things for screenwriters living in backwater towns. But the truth is, one of the great screenwriting festivals / conferences is held every year up in Austin, Texas, presented under the guise of the Austin Film Festival.

But Dora also pointed to us, her three guest panelists, and explained how networking opportunities can be had even in such a small forgotten city as San Antonio. She said that at any important San Antonio film event, you’d most likely see at least one of us. I realized she was right. Dora had invited three people who are very busy out there networking for their own diverse reasons. In fact all three of us were in attendance at the last San Antonio Film Commission’s SA Film Forum. And the three of us will also be in attendance for the upcoming ¡Adelante! Film Forum. I tried to stress to these folks the importance of getting out there and meeting people. My illustration was explaining that while early-voting on Friday I noticed local producer Ralph Lopez in line behind me. We chatted, of course, but I let Dora’s students think of it as an important networking opportunity.

What I was trying to express was that it’s best to make friends with everyone. Because, well, you know, they are everywhere.

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Monday begins National Novel Writing Month. I guess I’ll jump in again. Maybe actually finish something this time around.

I’m not sure what I want to work on this year. There is a novella I began quite some time ago and let languish about a 40 year-old woman, recently released from prison for armed robbery, who becomes a record producer for an under-appreciated aging country western singer; however, to secure the funds to properly promote his work, she needs to start robbing banks again.

And then there’s the novel I began last month (just half of the first chapter) about a bartender working in the seedy town of Corona, New Mexico, circa 2060. It’s become a port city, because of the space center nearby. He learns that the corporation controlling the space port as well as the Martian colonies are in communication with an alien civilization, yet this information is being withheld from all Earthlings. So, the bartender and his friend, a brilliant failed rock star who’s addicted to designer drugs, sneak aboard an off-planet freighter and begin to check things out.

Also, there’s Planet San Antonio, a screenplay idea I’ve mentioned before. And here I should point out that whatever I end up working on during National Novel Writing Month, I won’t be plying around with screenplay format. I’ll be doing what ever I chose in good old fashioned prose format.

As for the topic, well, I’ve a day to think it over….

While standing in line at the McCreless library for early voting this morning, I was heartened to see that even with eight functioning voting machines and very efficient volunteers, it still took me about twenty minutes to make my way to a machine and cast my votes. And while I was standing there, staring off into space, I suddenly realized how most of the people were quite elderly. Has the voting process become just a habit of the very old? Or was it because I was at the polling place at 3:30 in the afternoon? On a weekday. Maybe it was just a crowd of retirees, with a scattering of the unemployed and the independently wealthy, such as myself. But whatever the case, I began thinking about aging and mortality. At that point it occurred to me that recently I’ve not been overly impacted by the people I know who die. Take for instance a local artist and musician. When I learned of his passing a couple days back, my first reaction was, “good, now I don’t have to keep coming up with excuses as to why I don’t want to work on a project with him.”

Maybe I’ve just become a hide-bound old bastard. Take the last two months or so. I learned that two men who frequently hung out at my father’s book store in Dallas had died. No, make that three. Two of them I knew since I was a kid. The news really had very little impact on me. Perhaps it’s just human nature to detach those emotional bounds from people you’ve been removed from for a period of time.

This brings to mind a passage from a Silver Jews song:

I asked the painter why the roads are colored black.
He said, “Steve, it’s because people leave
and no highway will bring them back.”

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I’d been trying to get a meeting with Victor Payan, my co-chair of the Luminaria media / film committee, but we kept hitting conflicts. You know, like my last-minute invitation to sit on the panel for the San Antonio Film Commission’s October Film Forum.

We finally agreed on Wednesday night. At Joe Lopez’s Gallista Gallery. Victor wanted to kill two birds (roosters?) at one venue. We could meet and talk about Luminaria. And we could also take part in a political rally for Michael Soto. He’s an English professor running for a seat on the Texas school board. He’s a good guy. I hope he gets in.

The event was hosted by local cultural heavy weights, David Zamora Casa and Barbara Renaud Gonzalez. I’ve meet the both of them on multiple occasions, and each only ever vaguely recognizes me. But I begrudge them nothing, as I have such high regard for their creative works as well as all the time and energy they put into education and grassroots leadership. I was also thrilled to be served tequila by the both of them Wednesday night.

Like so many events I attend on the south side and the west side, I felt like family, surrounded by friends, colleagues, and allies. Pocha later showed up to join Victor and me. When a train thundered by and Michael Soto had to pause his speech, David rushed around to pour everyone a shot of tequila. Pocha (with Victor, displaced from California) shouted, over the train, “ah, but I love Texas political rallies!” We all “clicked” out plastic glasses and downed our drinks.

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When Janet Vasquez of the San Antonio Film Commission called me up an invited me be on the panel for the October chapter of their monthly SA Film Forum, I had to say yes. Drew and Janet of the film commission have done so much for me over the years, whether it has been in my role of filmmaker, educator, promoter, board and committee member, or just an overall advocate of film making in San Antonio. I forget, at times, that the film commission in San Antonio is often over-looked. It has the unenviable position of being enfolded within the San Antonio Convention & Visitors Bureau. I have nothing against the CVB–they do great work–but I wish our Film Commission had greater reach and a larger budget. However, from a pragmatic point of view, Drew and Janet squeeze quite a bit out of their shockingly tiny budget. These monthly film forums are great. Also, Nikki Young and her company, PrimaDonna Productions, provide a solid base of support for these events. I only wish more people would attend these free film forums.

But I digress. Janet called me Tuesday morning. The event was Tuesday evening. Quite possibly another panelist had pulled out at the last minute because of a scheduling conflict. Fine with me. If I end up being surrounded by people I like (Drew, Janet, Nikki) I could care less if I’m choice number one, two, or whatever. The topic was something about new technologies in film making, and is it a help or hindrance. Something like that. I assumed they meant shooting with DSLRs. Fine with me. I have experience. And I’m a serious advocate of this current trend (which–cool as it might be–will be seen, ten years from now, as quirky and odd. The DSLR as a movie-making tool will one day be lumped in with the Laser Disk, or the Eight-Track Tape).

My fellow panelists possessed more serious CVs than I (Darren Abate and Eduardo Ruiz-Healy), but I hope I added some useful words. Again, my biggest gripe: the low attendance. Most all of the local film folks (whether hobbyists or those professionally employed) know about these events. They just decide not to show.

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The Mayor of San Antonio, Julian Castro, has created this series of public involvement forums. SA2020. That’s the brand. Check it out at — sa2020.org — and I’m still trying to find out how much of this is genuine, and how much of this is bogus consensus-building. You know, creating the illusion of transparency, yet pushing a pre-established agenda. I’m pretty sure it’s a bit of both. Why? City panning and real-estate development and such as that do indeed rely heavily on data-mining and surveys. And if real human beings (as opposed to fucking north side yuppies) are part of the process, I can tell you the damage will be a bit less that it could be.

The first SA2020 event was really a PR opportunity. Don’t get me wrong. Work (or the illusion of work) got done. But there were many people who appeared either out of curiosity or because they wanted to be seen as part of this process. What bothered me that day was how few people I recognized from the arts community.

However, last night, it was quite different. I want to praise Ethel Shipton (of whom I’m very fond) and Patty Ortiz (and I haven’t yet had the chance to get to know Patty very well). They, as co-chairs of the Luminaria Fine Arts Committee, took it upon themselves to distribute art-related t-shirts. Ethel gave me one. Thanks, Ethel! I was a bit fat for it, but still I wiggled into it. There were quite a few artsy people wearing those shirts at that meeting. Also, I saw quite a few other people from the arts present who weren’t sporting the shirt. People like Dago Patlan (filmmaker and educator), Candi Masorro (producer and casting director), Hector Machado (actor, architect, writer, and director), and several others. We were a well-represented tribe. I was happy to share break-out sessions with friends such as Veronica Potter-Hernandez and Susanne Cooper.

Let’s all hope that these series of public forums / workshops help to improve our city. If you’re interested in being part of the process of shaping the city’s future from within the establishment, there are still a few more of these meetings. Get on to the website.

sa2020.org

It’s funny, but I can’t remember when Ramon, Deborah, and I began talking about Noche de Recuerdos as something serious which we planned on making happen. I do know that we have been actively working on running fund-raising activities for about six months. Most likely we’ve been talking about this event as a group for about nine months. When asked where the idea came from, I can only shrug. Apparently there was a lunch or a dinner or a couple round of drinks that happened–when and where I do not know. I must have been out of town, because I was not present. Apparently Henry de Leon was present. He’s an artist, florist, and major arts advocate. It seems Henry’s been working on this idea for quite some time. But somehow the meme of floating, illuminated altars found its way into the Proyecto Locos realm. I’m not in a position to claim ownership of this idea. Originator or not of this idea, I do have to acknowledge Henry’s important work in helping us to realize this project. He’s an honorary Loco, and one of the truly good guys in this town.

Anyway, Saturday night the event finally happened, as I knew it was bound to. The thing about production is that, after a certain point, there is no way to stop the momentum. You just have to step out of the way, make sure it happens as best as possible, and try not to get run over by the speeding train bearing down on you.

Saturday was a damn exhausting day. I’m still beat and battered, but, damn, things worked out very well. No one drowned. There were no fisticuffs between artists. It was a pleasant, low-key event. Maybe 17 artists placed work in the water. The total number of attendees wasn’t too huge–I guesstimated 150–but if quality is the measure, we had a wonderful audience of laid-back art lovers happy to chill out to a low-impact evening of unique floating art.

When we initially began speaking to people about the idea, we realized what an easy sell it was. In the argot of Hollywood, it’s an easy pitch. San Antonio artists understand the idea of an altar as a work of art. And the idea of self-illuminated works of art floating on an intimate pond in a public park on the west side struck so many people–artists and non-artists alike–as something very special.

And it was very special. Saturday night I heard many people tell me that it was exactly as they pictured it.

This evening could not have happened in this particular manner without Proyecto Locos. And, of course, our sponsor of the event, AIT-SCM (American Indians in Texas at the Spanish Missions), who made things run so smoothy. The volunteers out in the kayaks were great. They placed the altars right where the artists wanted them. And later, when it got dark, the boat boys were out there, mere shadows, artfully repositioning the altars if they drifted askew. We also had a Native American blessing, poets, and Indian music provided by AIT.

I wish I could have taken loads of photos and video, but I was running here and there, making sure things were working smoothly. Also, I had to keep on top of my own altar. It was a dual-layer floating projection screen. I had a mammoth gasoline generator to occasionally baby-sit. It was powering my video projector (which was balanced precariously on a stone retaining wall three inches from the water’s edge). The video was a piece I had created a few years back for the Dia de los Muertos show at Centro Cultural Aztlan, “In Memoria / Wind,” is a short looped video of roadside altars around San Antonio. My floating screen was rather homely, but once the defects were hidden by the cover of night, the over-all aesthetics of the project was not too bad. I only wish I had managed to have my proposed four layers. But that looked like shit. I settled for two. Here’s a photo.

My favorite piece was Deborah Keller-Rihn’s. It was simple and beautiful, and very effective. She used an automobile inner tub as the flotation platform. Inside the donut hole was a floating circle of styrofoam which acted as a platform for about ten of those battery-powered dome lights (you know, stick them on the wall of your closet, press the plastic dome, and, click, it comes on). Set atop the inner tube were two pieces of round Plexiglas (the bottom, translucent white, the top, clear), and sandwiched between, a photo of her parents printed on plastic transparent material. Here’s a picture.

My second favorite was by Oscar Alvarado. It was fucking huge! The floatation platform was a Hobie kayak. Oscar had created a grotto. But it wasn’t made from a bathtub, he used that industrial spray foam. This huge edifice (which enclosed an image of one of his famous ancestors) was supported on the kayak by an impressive outrigger frame constructed from five inch (or larger) PVC. The lights were powered by some no-nonsense batteries and an inverter. Oscar doesn’t fanny around. He makes some serious shit.

There was such a wonderful variety of work. When we, Proyecto Locos, began pushing this event, we never thought there would be such a wide variety of floatation and lighting schemes. Inner tubes and styrofoam were about equally divided as the most common forms of floatation. But there was also Oscar’s kayak, one piece on wood, one or two on capped PVC pipe, and a truly wonderful piece placed afloat upon a platform of empty beer cans taped water-tight.

Here’s a few pictures. I hope others who were photographing the evening will share.

Thank you everyone who was behind us in this event. I don’t care if you were able to show up or not. I’m happy that so many people responded to our Proyecto Locos event with support, good energy, or whatever. If all you did was smile when we mentioned this idea, or perhaps you bought one of our Raspas Locos during the summer.or maybe you came to our “Viva Max” screening at URBAN-15….well, we want to thank you. It was a beautiful and magical evening. And it looks like there will be another Noche de Recuerdos next years.

We hope to see you all then!

It’s really all about power, right? Not that guts & glory road. I’m talking amps, volts, watts. For me, this weekend, it comes down to a matter of 295 watts. That’s 295 watts running on 120 volts, pure American USDA/AC. But because I want to run my NEC video projector completely off the grid via a gasoline generator. Getting the generator proved easier than I’d feared. When I posted my need on FaceBook I received two quick responders. My next problem was that many people cautioned me about the unstable power source off of a generator, even after passing through the power inverter. Not wanting to fry my projector, I opted to buy a UPS. They’re those fancy surge protectors with a built-in battery, so when the electric company yanks your juice for failure to pay just as you’re putting the final touches on your proof of Fermat’s Last Theorem into, I dunno, your EXCEL spread sheet, you will still have time to hit “SAVE” before your brilliance is lost to the ages.

The UPS is a mid-priced appliance. I picked one up for forty bucks. But because I hadn’t researched the wattage needs of my NEC NP500 3000 Lumen projector, I found that the device I got wasn’t up to the task. The battery output topped at a miserly 250 watts. So, back to fucking Office Depot. I shelled out more than I care to admit for a robust 450 watt machine. This should accommodate the projector, and another small device or two.

This is all for Noche de Recuerdos, tomorrow night’s event put on by Proyecto Locos (AKA Erik, Deborah, and Ramon). Please, stop me from ever doing something like this again. Don’t get me wrong. The event’s a great idea. Hell, I see no reason why tomorrow night won’t turn out to be a wonderful experience for everyone. But one of the reasons that the three of us decided to put this event on was that we’d be able to pay ourselves as organizers. There had been talk early on of maybe a thousand bucks apiece (a conversation strictly among ourselves, I should point out). This might have been possible were it not for the fact that each of us sucks at fund-raising.

So, not only am I not getting paid, but I decided to create my own illuminated, floating altar. Once all the receipts are tallied up, it will have cost me about $250 for supplies and such, just for my project, let along stuff I’ve bought for the event itself.

Okay. That’s it. I’ve got it out of my system. No more complaining.

And for those not keeping up with this blog, the event in question, Noche de Recuerdos, is an evening of floating, illuminated altars constructed by local artists which are intended to commemorate important people no longer living. These personal altars have become common this time of year around San Antonio’s art and cultural centers. Dia de los Muertos has quite a hold on this town.

Tomorrow night (Saturday, October 23rd) the little intimate casting pool across the road from Woodlawn Lake will be host to at least two dozen floating pieces of art. But because we’ve put out the word that anyone is welcome to come and bring a floating altar, we really don’t know how many pieces to expect.

Personally I need to concentrate on getting my own piece together and functioning properly. My initial plan was to do a float-test this afternoon at the site. But I was too busy rushing around. It’s all going to happen tomorrow. My altar is a PVC frame which will hold a video projection screen. I’m hopeful that the six 26″ bicycle inner tubes will support my screen. I’ll have three extra tubes as a backup.

The generator I’ll be borrowing tomorrow is a monster, or so it has been described. I think Richard said it has an output of 2,500 watts. This means it’ll be obnoxiously loud. I’ll have to address this issue before the event begins around 6-7pm.

So, please, come on out and check out the altars. We’ll start things off with a Native American blessing. There will be poetry. Indian drum and flute music. I’m also hoping that a certain high caliber actress/writer/performance-artist will treat us to a personal monologue. I suspect there will be a few other surprises.

Drop by and witness the birth of a new San Antonio tradition. We’re financially strapped, so please BYOstuff. This is a family event, so bring a picnic dinner, and hey, don’t forget the kids. And even though the event doesn’t begin until 6pm, feel free to come early and keep the friendly folk who call themselves Proyecto Locos company. I mean, really, we’d love to share some of your BYOetcetera. But, remember, this is the west side, so be discreet, we don’t want la chota shutting us down.