Monday.

A nasty cold which I was unable to shake had me keeping a low profile over the weekend. It’s in the fairly full-blown stage today. Around three in the afternoon I decided I had to get out of the house. I drove to C4 Workplace. One of the reasons was I’d realized I was late in paying my monthly desk-space rental at C4. Once there, I used the microwave to heat up a can of soup. I answered some email. Did a bit of electronic outreach for the up-coming Josiah Youth Media Festival. And I finally wrote out a check for my car insurance.

Because I was out of stamps, I drove to the post office over on S. Alamo and I-35. They still haven’t put in any stamp vending machines. But, luckily, there was no line. As I walked up to the clerk, I heard myself say: “I just need a one class stamp.” He knew exactly what I meant. It wasn’t until I was walking to my truck that I realized what I’d said. I had thought I might be able to go out to the bike trail for a short ride, but I was feeling a bit shaky, and clearly my brain was misfiring. This last item was hammered home when, at the intersection of S. Flores and S. Alamo, I found myself looking at the little lap dog instead of the cute girl holding the pooch’s leash as they crossed in front of me. Clearly, I wasn’t safe on the road.

Back on Saturday Deborah stopped by. I explained that I was feeling fairly seedy. She returned soon with a care package. So, thanks Deborah, for dropping off some cold medicine, limes, honey, orange juice, soup, and assorted comfort food. It’s nice when I’m reminded that, yes, I do in fact have friends. I’ve mentioned this before, but the questions always comes up with folk like myself, who are single and live alone, and are self-employed. When we slip in the shower, how far into decomposition will we have drifted before someone finally gets around to checking on us? The more people who care about you and who know where you live, the less will the crew from the funeral home retch.

It’s weird having someone else shop for you. Things you’d never think to buy are suddenly in your home. And now let me praise a great beverage I created from the goods delivered. I can’t imagine it NOT having medicinal properties, but, damn was it tasty.

Steep a bag of peppermint tea for at least five minutes in an extra-large mug. Squeeze in the juice of one whole lime (the bigger the better). And finally, add more honey than you think you should.

Damn fine.

I also found in my care package some cold medicines. I’d told Deborah that I was particularly fond of NyQuil. And knowing that it’s fairly pricey, I said I’d be happy with some off brand. They usually have the same ingredients. Now what I was thinking about were the small bottles of liquid which come with little plastic jiggers to measure out a shot or two. But I forget that many people use NyQuil pills. What I got was an HEB generic version of NyQuil gel caps. The great thing about the stuff that comes in the bottle is that it hits me after about twenty minutes. I’m out until sunup. But these gel caps are slow and timid when taking affect. I watched a video on my computer for an hour after I downed the pills. Finally I decided to got to sleep. However, when I was out, I was out. It seems that these guys are slower to take action, and they last much longer. I work up on Sunday morning around 8:30. I read some in bed. And then I drifted back off to sleep (I never do this once I wake up), and managed to sleep an additional two and a half hours). This stuff’s not only potent, it lingers. And this no doubt explains why a cute dog is just as interesting (if not more so) than a cute girl.

Beware. HEB brand “Night Time Liquid Caps Cold/Flu Relief” could well destroy American civilization. Treat with great caution!

To pad this entry out, let me toss in a couple of images.

Here’s a photo of my driveway. One of my neighbors has not taken down her Christmas lights. And I hope she never does.

And here’s an interesting snap I took of my truck’s odometer, which, for reasons I can’t describe, I find somewhat disturbing.

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Tuesday.

I had planned on getting out of the house today, but really didn’t. However, I did manage to recalled that my neighbor Phil had asked me to walk his dog Tuesday and Wednesday. But because he had called me to request this back on Sunday when I was enjoying Easter dinner with Pete, Lisa, and Cooper, he (and the dog) is damn lucky I was able to peer back in my memory, back through the haze of Shiner Bocks and some heavy duty cold medicine, and discover that faint memory.

So, a mid-day dog walk was one of my more ambitious endeavors today. That, and trying to reconstruct my finances from last year–as my mother prodded me over the phone. She’s spent a large portion of her life working various bookkeeping gigs. She’s currently on payroll with H&R Block (and, if you don’t know, they pay shockingly little).

Tax time is fairly stressful. Like my birthday, or New Years. It’s a time for me to realize how horribly I’m squandering my life. When the dust settles I suspect I’ll find I pulled an income of about $21,000 for 2009. Sure, this is far above the poverty rate for a single person living alone. And the fact is, I have oodles of free time. But, as I live hand-to-mouth, I find myself in heavy panic mode as mid April approaches. I’m self-employed, and never bother to place any money aside for employment tax (there is no employer managing the with-holding for me), so I screw myself every year.

Add to this, my last big gig ended mid January–that money is almost tapped out–and there is no clear indication that another serious gig will materialize. I’m currently involved in a temporary part-time situation which, thankfully, pays $500 a month. But, really, this is no way to live.

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Back in 2008 I was accepted into the Creative Capital Professional Development Retreat. The San Antonio Office of Cultural Affairs helped to bring in this New York-based arts funding organization to help San Antonio artists better learn how to run their artistic concerns in a more business-like manner. 2008 was the second year Creative Capital visited San Antonio. As a bottom-feeder in the local art scene, I was surprised and quite honored to be selected. There were, I believe, just 22 of us, from various disciplines. At that time I knew maybe ten of the artists. Soon I got to know them all. So many amazing people!

Maybe a month and a half ago I learned that one of my favorite people from that retreat had passed away. And it was way back on September 6th, of 2009. I barely knew Rhonda Kuhlman outside of that intense weekend retreat. She was funny, fearless, irreverent, and full of life. Her art dealt with ecological issues by building lovely and quirky work out of trash. I was quite taken by her playful spirit. And when I learned she’d passed away (at the unthinkable age of 42) I only wish I had gone to more of her shows and events at her South Side studio.

I found myself thinking about Rhonda today while going through some of my old photos. Here she is at her show at Three Walls Gallery during First Friday, June, 2008.

I hate when this sort of tragedy happens. Not only was a wonderful woman pulled away too soon from what was already quite an extraordinary life, but from my own selfish point of view, I see a another sad loss of a wonderful person who I was too awkward and introverted to befriend. People, they are so transitory. We forget that. Things can move fast, and change our lives totally.

Thursday night.

It was warm enough last night, so I slept with a fan blowing on me. This morning I wasn’t sure if my sore throat was the signs of an impending cold, or just the effects of a dry the wind in my face drying out my sinuses and throat. It’s pushing midnight, I’m I guessing a cold is about to hit full force by sunup.

I’m thinking I’ll just hole up Friday and read and watch Netflix.

Maybe I’ll try and make it to the library. There are a couple of books I want to track down. This afternoon, while waiting for a largish video file to reconfigure, I pulled a book from my shelf which I’d bought years ago, but never read. It’s “Revolution on the Border: the United States and Mexico 1910-1920,” by Linda Hall and Don M. Coerver. In a chapter concerning San Antonio, I read some of the expected history. Such as los bros Magón–you know, Enrique and Richard Flores–the revolutionary brothers who came to San Antonio to continue publication of their rabble-rousing newspaper, Regeneración. In fact, I have a book or two around here, somewhere, about the Magón brothers. But there were also some radical sisters–Teresa and Andrea Villareal (sometimes spelled Villarreal)–who fled Mexico to come to San Antonio and publish two newspapers to bring attention to the revolution: the feminist newspaper, La Mujer Moderna, and the more IWW general paper, El Obrero. The Magóns brothers and the Villareal sisters were all associated with the PLM (Partido Liberal Mexicano). Even with the most cursory search, I’ve located two titles about these incredible women. I’m sure there are some interesting academic papers. I’d also like to find a good book that gives an over-view of San Antonio’s role in the revolution. There was quite a bit going on here. Via la revolution! Also, time to reread Reed, John, that is.

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I was out biking on the Mission Trail this afternoon around five. The place was empty. Strange, yesterday it was packed at the same time. I did notice a row of port-a-potties at a couple of parking lots near Espada Dam. And then I remembered. Sunday’s Easter. It’s a tradition on the south-side for families to camp out during Easter weekend in the parks along the river near the historical missions. Tomorrow the place will be swarming, with tents and hibachis and kites and fishing poles and music everywhere.

Also, people might have been avoiding the wind. It was insane. As it came from the south, my ride out to Mission Espada was like swimming in molasses. But, the reward, was the tail-wind-assisted high-speed return trip.

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Mostly I frittered my day away wallowing in self-pity. And it was only with a concentrated effort that I dragged myself out of the house. So, after my bike ride, I made my way to C4. Michael Druck and Brian Potts were running their second monthly Actors Network SA mixer.

I’d made a quick visit last month. I was there just to pick up some video equipment. And the first mixer was fucking packed. This second one might have had a few less attendees, but I’d guesstimated that, at any given time, there were about 45 to 55 people there.

It was nice to see so many familiar faces. Some I see all the time, some I’ve seen recently, some I’ve not seen in years. Let’s see, other than Druck and Brian, there was Jon Gillespie, Lee Hurtado, the Cheap Soup crew, Manuel Cantu, Veronica Hernandez, Roman Garcia, Christopher Viltz, Robin Early, Martha Prentiss, and on and on. I was happy to see one of Nikki Young’s young acting students there with her family. Little Sofia is confident, intelligent, makes smart decisions & sticks with them, and all in all she shows tremendous promise as a performer. It was good to see her meeting other people in the industry.

There was this one woman I noticed later on in the evening. She looked so familiar. I knew I’d auditioned her before. And I knew I had seen her on the stage. Wait, wasn’t she the wife in the Attic Rep’s performance of Albee’s The Goat, or Who Is Sylvia? Um, what was her name? Suddenly the name Gloria Sanchez came to mind. I pulled out my iPhone and Googled “Gloria Sanchez” and “Attic Rep.” And there it was, five listings down, my blog, where I was gassing on and on about how great she was, not just in Sylvia, but also the more recent Attic Rep’s staging of Octavio Solis’ Lydia.

For some reason I’ve very shy approaching, for the first time, stage actors whose work I love. This is why I wanted to remember if I didn’t indeed audition Gloria for a film project. That would put us a bit closer to being on the same level.

But I couldn’t recall. So, I just decided to walk up to her when I saw that she wasn’t talking to anyone. I thought I’d made eye contact. And just as I said, “Gloria Sanchez?” I heard from the other side of the room Michael Druck shout out: “Gloria Sanchez! Come on up!” It seems he wanted her to pull a name out of a bowl for a door prize. Gloria smiled and walked right past me.

I was, however, able to talk to her later. I told her how incredible she was at the two extraordinary plays I’d seen her in at the Attic Rep.

“I’ve met you before,” she said.

“Yeah, I know. But I can’t recall. I know you auditioned for one of my film projects.” I was thinking, way back, of Vaya Con Dios, Asshole, but it was Gloria who finally remembered.

“That bar on Broadway,” she said. Ah, yes. That was one of the very last production cycles for the Short Ends film group. I remember being amazed by her. She was smart and sexy, and she gave a great read. That was a few years back. I’m not sure why we didn’t go with her. I think her character was another character’s mother. And because of age or ethnicity, there would have been a disconnect. Now, what I need, is a hefty budget, so I can work with actors of such extraordinary caliber as Gloria Sanchez.

Here’s a spy cam shot I took of Gloria tonight as I was trying to remember when I’d met her before.

Also, here’s a snapshot I took of Laura Evans tonight. I like this look. She is so lovely, and obviously comfortable in front of the camera.

As the evening was drawing to a close, I made sure that Druck had enough people to help him clean up, and then I made a fast and quiet exit.

Great event!

At the end of my block Sandra Cisneros is having a big blowout–yet another party I wasn’t invited to. There are people in this city who, no matter how many times I meet them, never seen able to remember me.

He: “Sandra, let me introduce you to Erik…well, you probably already know him.”

Me: “Oh, of course. We’ve meet several times. Nice to see you again, Sandra.”

She: “No. I don’t believe we’ve meet.”

Me: “Oh sure. Three times, I believe.”

She: “No….”

Me: “I see you all the time when I’m outside as you’re walking your dogs.”

She: “Really?”

Me: “Really. I live across the street and three doors down from you.”

She: “Oh? How nice. How nice. It’s good to meet you.”

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What a perfect day. I cleaned my bike chain, topped off the air in my tires, and headed off for a late afternoon bike ride. The pecan tress are all budding. Wild flowers are everywhere. And those wonderful daytime crickets are laying down a perfect music bed. The vultures have returned from their winter roosts in Mexico. I saw three circling overhead as I was lounging on the grass above the river near Mission Espada. I moved my arms around a bit. Not dead yet. And they moved off, downriver. And another sure sign of spring is the return of the bats, who also winter in Mexico. I’ve seen them flitting about at night where the San Antonio River comes through my neighborhood.

Considering the winter we just went through, I wish I also had a second home in Mexico. (Of course, I wish I had a home in Mexico for an endless number of reasons.)

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There’s been talk of me repurposing my Luminaria video, “River Hoop,” which features ST Shimi. There is an event coming up, in April I believe, planned for Main Plaza, downtown San Antonio. If Shimi’s amenable to my reedit, and if her schedule can allow us to collaborate again, with a new, and somewhat augmented version of our Luminaria proposal, than I’m certainly down to create a large video projected backdrop for Shimi to hoop-dance to!

I’ll be sending out the word once I know for sure.

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Tomorrow afternoon the Luminaria steering committee is having a happy hour party in my neighborhood (King William). I’ll be there with my camera, hoping to get some candid shots of Susanne Cooper, Steven Payne, and Carmen Tafolla dancing, pantless, up on a table out on the patio.

Thanks to Rod Rubbo, of the Fund, for setting up this informal gathering for all us committee members to get together and celebrate, a.) surviving a horrible ordeal, and b.) pulling off a huge and wonderful event with an attendance of 210,000!

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I hit a red light on the way to the beer store tonight.

And I had to take a photo, utilizing my rearview mirror, of the PikNik on S. Presa, as well as, behind me, the coin-op laundry.

The ride back was smooth. Green light.

I honked when I passed Sandra Cisneros’ party. I assume that all the attendees were of such an elevated status that the crude blat from my pickup truck did not even register in their tender sophisticated inner ears. Mostly, I guess I just pissed off Connie, who lives with her dad and works at an automotive shop–they live catty-corner to Sandra.

I should point out that my catty bitchery would turn a full 360 degrees were I, in fact, invited to these sorts of parties.

And here I am, back home, partyless (and, dare I say, pantless). The PSA should make note to “not let this man drink beer alone.” Are you listening, Sandra? Sandra? Hello?

I had a nice weekend, if you include Friday.

I woke up on Friday around nine, had some coffee to wash down a sweet potato empanada left over from the day before. Did an hours worth of editing on a little video for hire project. Around eleven I walked to a friend’s house a couple blocks away. She’s an artist who is placing one of her video works into the lobby of a local governmental agency. Her background is primarily in painting and photography, but she’s been slowly moving into video work. I’ve provided some tutoring for her in regards to editing video. Today, we worked on the piece she’ll soon be delivering. I’m not sure if the format we arrived at will best be served by the machine which will be installed. If there is some problem in getting the flat screen monitor / DVD player to switch over into anamorphic mode, we might have to do a quick reconfiguration of the DVD. The piece is very nice, languid and flowing–shifting patterns of reflected light creating lovely abstract movement. I always like to see successes come to my artists friends who are, not only accomplished in their fields, but wonderful human beings as well.

The next step in my day was to meet with Seme Jatib at C4 Workspace. She’s still relatively new to San Antonio, and we were going to visit URBAN-15. I was afraid if I didn’t drive her, she might get lost.

Seme has an idea for a series of dance film screenings. I’m all for it. In fact, we’re working on this together. I thought URBAN-15 might be a good fit, as they are deeply involved in dance, film, multi-media, as well as multidisciplinary performances. And even if URBAN-15 might not be the best venue for Seme and me to try this screening series, I thought it was important for Seme to meet two important members of the San Antonio art and cultural community, George and Catherine Cisneros. You see, sometimes there are people who you know have to be brought together. George and Catherine both have an extraordinarily deep knowledge of all the important players in the entire spectrum of artistic disciplines from the last five decades, and beyond. Seme has studied intensely in the history of dance, music, film, and art, and I wanted her to see that were people here in San Antonio who could speak her language (and I’m not just talking Spanish). One of the the things I respect about George and Catherine is that they are cosmopolitans. This is a hard thing for an American to pull off. And to be quite candid, this is why educated Mexicans find Americans so provincial and backwards. We just don’t know what’s going on in the world of the arts outside of our own country. This is true even of the majority of our academics.

I hope Seme and I can find a home for our four part dance-in-film screening program.

My next stop was the San Antonio Neighborhood Film Project. This is a great collaboration between the Office of Cultural Affairs and the San Antonio Film Commission. They asked local filmmakers to submit pieces–none more than 8 minutes–which highlight any of three particular neighborhood self-guided art tours.

The contest was open to professionals and amateurs alike. There was also a category for students. There were three neighborhoods, and two categories–students and otherwise. Six prizes in all. The three student winners would receive $1,000 each; the three non-students would receive $3,000 each. This is fucking awesome!

A juried San Antonio film contest was created to give out $12,000 in cash prizes! This is just crazy–San Antonio filmmakers are used to PAYING money to get recognition (such as the 48 Hour Film Project). Finally San Antonio Filmmakers are being recognized with hard cash. This neighborhood film project, along with Luminaria, understands that to respect the artists means to pay the artists.

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Saturday.

I found myself wrestling with technology again. Simple shit, really. My iPhone cable has been so abused that it’s got little shorts on each end. It used to be, I’d just jiggle it a bit, and that’d be fine. But no more. I had to beg use of someone else’s cord today.

And now my little usb card reader I use to transfer images off my Panasonic Lumix has self-terminated. I could use the camera to computer cord that came with the camera, but hell if I know where it is. I’m awash in various cables–firewire, usb, vga, s-video, bnc, rca, xlr, half-inch, quarter inch, mini, micro, blah, blah, and blah.

I have loads of photos from today. I guess I’ll go buy a new card reader. Maybe I’ll even clean up this apartment…’cause I know that cable’s here, hiding amide the unspeakable clutter.

After a quick breakfast of ice coffee and ramen noodle soup, I rode to C4 Workspace. My main reason was to use Todd’s iPhone power cord and juice up my phone (in retrospect, of dubious purpose, because no one called me). I answered a few emails and tweaked a video edit a bit.

Here’s a plea from C4 Workspace for the half-dozen folks who read this blog. Todd and Debbie are happy with the number of full- and part-time members (though they can certainly handle more!), but they want to see more people coming in on an occasional walk-in basis. They’ve put quite a bit of time, money, and vision into bringing the co-working concept to San Antonio. The idea is that if you are a freelancer or perhaps are employed by a company that lets you work from home, or where ever (I’ve seen the term “digital nomad” used on occasion), then it’s likely that you’re used to working on the fly, in a portable manner. It’s quite amazing what can be done with a wifi enabled laptop, a cell phone, and a light weight streamlined external drive. You see these people all the time at coffee shops. It’s not fair to assume that all the people hunched over laptops at Starbucks are narcissistic tossers updating their social media networks. Many are these increasing bands of freelancers and digital nomads. Coffee houses are great. But there are times when you want to be somewhere with a printer, copy machine, fax, and a quiet room (where you can make a phone call without the noise of the espresso machine cutting you off periodically). C4 Workspace has all this. They also have free coffee. Maybe not up to Starbucks quality, but, again, free. There is also a conference room, if you need to make a pitch to an investor, or impress a client. And there is also the bonus that you can be sure that all the people around you are technologically savvy early adopters, who are doing much more interesting things than simply updating their social media networks. This means, if you have a problem, you can ask anyone around you–this is the human resource of co-working. It’s a gregarious and sharing tribe who have no problem with this sort of ephemeral collaborative exchange of ideas. A sort of open-source HR dept.–also, there is often some free eats out on the counter of the community kitchen area.

If you’re interested, drop me a line. I have a few free day passes so you can check it out.

Learn more on the website: http://www.c4workspace.com/

Or, to understand the thinking behind the pricing structure check out this page:
http://www.c4workspace.com/2010/03/whats-up-with-the-prices/

Also, you get to hang out with me. I have the cluttered corner in the far back. And, of course, everyone is super nice, you know, if you need to borrow something like an iPhone power cord.

So much for my PSA.

My phone’s battery was topped off around 12:15. So I doused myself with sunblock, tied a bandana over my bald head, and rode my bike to the west-side. The ride over to the Guadalupe Cultural Arts Center from my neighborhood is a fun route. I take S. Alamo towards I-10. As you go under the highway, the street becomes S. Frio. Turn left on Guadalupe. You have to take an elevated hump over the train tracks. And that’s when I realized how out of shape I’ve become. But, of course, the ride back down, was a thrill. Just a few short blocks down Guadalupe, through the light at S. Brazos, and you take a right into the Plaza Guadalupe.

The 14th annual Cesar E. Chavez March for Justice was well into the preliminary assembly and program of speaking. The march itself was slated for 1pm.

I pulled my camera out of my shoulder bag and shot some pictures as I walked through the crowd. I finally saw Veronica with her husband and their two daughters. I marched with them last year.

As the speeches were going on in heavy earnest, Veronica and I caught up on some NALIP-SA business, a film festival she’s working on, a film festival I’m working on, our own projects, and, of course, general San Anto chisme.

Matthew Mendez, who was in the Creative Tao show with me at the Keller-Rihn Studio, had also ridden his bike to the march. He’s a downtown guy, renting an apartment overlooking Main Plaza. He was out taking pictures and basking in the leftist, progressive, and great labor unionist energy.

I used a couple of safety pins to attach my medium-sized UFW flag to the handle bars of my bike. As the crowds left the plaza to line up for the parade, I walked to a place in the middle with Veronica and her family, rolling my bike beside me. I saw fewer people I knew than last year. But the crowds seemed the same size.

This year Gabriel Velasquez was the March Coordinator. Gab’s training is as an architect. But he’s most know as a DJ, an Chicano activist and community leader, and, most recently, the driving force behind Una Noche de La Gloria, an amazing night of art and culture in the autumn of 2009 at this very place where the Chavez March begins. I do hope La Gloria will become an annual event.

Once the crowd began to move, I saw Jessica Torres on the corner of Guadalupe and Brazos. She was standing on a bench. I think she was texting. On the pavement beside her was Sarai Rodriguez, who I haven’t seen in at least a year. They either didn’t here me shout to them, or maybe just decided to ignore me.

Pablo Veliz was running up and down the crowd as we took Guadalupe from Brazos to the railroad overpass. I don’t know what he was doing (he didn’t have a camera, or anything), but he looked pretty busy.

I had a great time. It’s always a blast to be in a large group of people marching for a cause you believe in.

The march ended at the Alamo. I decided to forgo the speeches at the stage at the end of the route. I removed the United Farm Workers flag from my handle bars, stowed my camera in my shoulder bag, and I pedaled my way to the east-side to check out the Dignowity Hill Pushcart Derby.

Sadly I was late for much of the real fun. I missed the Methane Sisters who were doing some MC work early on.

But, still, it was a blast. I was talking with Angela and Rick Martinez of Slab Cinema. They were selling herbs to help fundraise for a neighborhood school. As me and Angela were talking Elaine Wolff came up and bought some dill. She didn’t look over to me. I wanted to thank her for mentioning me on her Twitter feed during Luminaria, but I hate to be a pest to people who I know are always being pestered. It’s always good to see Elaine Wolff, even though I’m not sure she actually knows who I am (yes, we’ve met once (years ago), we’ve exchanged emails, and, I’m not sure about this, but I think we spoke, once, on the phone). She’s awfully cute.

I spent some time talking with Jacinto Guevara. He was perched in the caged interior of artist Oscar Alvarado’s Art Cart, which was one of the highlights of Luminaria (even though it was not an official presentation–I love guerrilla art!!!). Jacinto is very brainy, and I love his irreverent playful sense of humor.

I got pulled into various conversations (George Cisneros bought me a pecan paleta!) and I only got to watch one of the pushcart races, but I did learn that team Calypso won. Filmmaker Sterling Abrigo came up and told me his team had won. He often collaborates in making films with his friend Julian Moreno-Peña (Julian had won a thousand bucks the night before on a film he had done for the SA Neighborhood Film Project (Sterling did the compositing work on the credits)). Pretty impressive. These kids are teaming up and winning film contests as well as pushcart derbies!

Earlier, at the derby, when I was talking with Angela at her herb station, artist Gary Sweeney walked up. He and Angela know each other. I was introduced to him as a “filmmaker.” Gary, so I learned, is getting into video work. (Now I should point out that I know Gary’s work, he’s a very well-known and accomplished local art figure–actually, he kind of knew my work, having seen the Luminaria piece I did with Shimi).

Gary was carrying a HD camcorder.

“Hey,” he said to me, his attention drifting over to the wrestling ring set up over by the restrooms–kids were using it like a bouncy castle. “Can you help me on a film I’m working on?”

It’s Gary Sweeney, I thinking, so, of course, hell yeah!

“Let’s do it,” I said, and I followed him up to the wrestling stage. There were a lot of kids jumping around up on that stage, that wrestling ring. I laid my bike down and took Gary’s camera.

“I want to get into that ring,” Gary said. “If I ask all those kids to jump on top of me, do you think they’ll do it?”

I gave a little laugh.

“I guarantee it.”

He headed to the ring and I started to roll. He climbed up onto the stage/ring and told all these wild street urchins that he wanted them to jump on top of him. They were wild, just wild for the idea. He dropped down, and they swarmed, with no remorse, like angry ants. I shot something weird and amazing. I think there was a moment where Gary was a bit afraid. I mean there were twenty or so adolescents dog-piling him. I might be wrong, but I think I shot footage of panic on his face. And that’s why I can claim It was all good fun.

And, later, I saw Justin Parr shooting another Gary Sweeney situation, using the man’s camera. I can’t imagine anyone saying no to Gary. He’s a middle-aged mouseketeer.

After things quieted down, I got on my bike and rode back home.

What wonderful day!

Yesterday afternoon I was biking along a grassy path above the San Antonio River out near Mission Espada. There was a white blimp drifting in from the south. Not near so big as a Goodyear blimp, and absolutely unadorned by any logo or advertisements. Maybe there’s some major sporting event coming to town. Where sports are concerned I’m always the last to know, and I want to keep it that way.

The recent rains have made the levee slope along to the river as chaotic and over-grown as my front and back yards. The fact is, I don’t really care how out of control it gets around my house–you know, I love nature–but when I have to navigate through the forest of waist-high stinging nettles as I take my laundry to the line while wearing shorts and sandals, I tend to get a bit anxious. And once I hang my laundry, I really wonder if it’s a good thing that the cuffs of my jeans should be cross-fertilizing those meter-tall dandelions, as they sway (coquettishly??) in the breeze from up on the line.

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I did little more Tuesday than a bike ride, laundry, and some basic video editing on a job that needs to be finished Friday (which means I really should be working on it right now). But as I was procrastinating, I noticed that Netflix on-demand had just made Julie and Julia available. I’d talked to a few people about this, and I knew I’d find it enjoyable. And it was. A pleasant diversion.

I also watched Angels & Demons. Now I should admit that I saw The Da Vinci Code (also on-line). That one was not so bad as I’d feared. The dialogue was idiotic and overly- expository, but my expectations were so low that I actually enjoyed some of it. However, this Angels & Demons is just awful. We watch characters who are supposedly experts in high energy physics, art history, arcane Vatican lore, the history of the Italian Renaissance, etc., and they all sound like a bunch of imbeciles who were reading (and poorly at that) dialogue written by Barbara Cartland’s pool boy. I love good movies about sweeping historical conspiracies. This ain’t one of those.

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Today (Wednesday) was a meeting for the Luminaria Steering Committee to get together so we could share our opinions about the big event. You know, our opinions on what went well, and our constructive criticism on what to do better next time.

It was suggested we bring some written notes, with enough copies to go around to everyone there. I’d hammered out a rambling discourse of 600 words–I didn’t want to go over one page, single-spaced, so I held back.

Most of the obvious problems were a direct result of too much success too soon. Because of a weak economy, we had a smaller budget than last year, resulting in a smaller footprint for the event. Add to that, perfect weather which brought out record crowds (210,000, up from 180,000 last year), and it was no wonder that the place was densely packed.

Personally I was rather saddened by the slight media coverage we received (there are several reasons for this, and I’d really rather not get into any of them); however, the fact that a good portion of the press was critical, didn’t bother me so much. And those rude, spiteful, and often explicitly racist comments which readers of the Express-News added to the on-line versions of the Luminaria articles were actually pretty helpful. If you squint and hold your head just right so you can’t catch the stench and bile, there are some useful suggestions of how it could have been done better. We spoke about most of those oft-quoted concerns in today’s meeting.

(Seme Jatib performing Words into the Wind, with video backdrop produced by Erik Bosse.)

All in all, I had a blast at Luminaria. And even though there was some serious friction amongst committee members (mostly arising out of a sense of advocacy for an artist, a discipline, or a venue), by the end we have remained friends. In the three years I’ve been involved with Luminaria, I’ve had the good fortune of having met and worked with dozens of art and cultural leaders in San Antonio, many who are underpaid and overworked…and yet have decided for various reasons to take on a rather stressful volunteer gig as a Luminaria Steering Committee member.

The real question, however, is how did the participating artists and performers ultimately feel about their involvement? I know you can’t make everyone happy, but I hope I didn’t piss off too many of the 23 filmmakers who had their works presented under my watch for Luminaria 2010. Until I know for sure, I’m keeping to the shadows and having neighbor kids start up my truck every morning. They’re happy to earn a buck, and the money is well worth my mental well-being.

Oh, and make sure to check out Ms. Fisch’s piece in the current issue of the SA Current: “The Good, the Bad, and the Lame-Inaria.” I’m not suggesting she came up with the title of the piece (actually, it’s more of a story about CAM (Contemporary Arts Month)), but I can’t imagine that this is the first time Lame-Inaria has been used. I mean, really! But a quick Google search only has “lame-inaria” connected to the Current. There’s a “LAMEinaria” connected to the Luminaria FaceBook page, but I’m too lazy to track it down as to the date. Maybe it’s a Current original. I hope someone’s fast-tracking that trademark through.

Anyway, this is the second time I’ve walked into a Luminaria committee meeting on a Wednesday clutching a copy of the SA Current with something amusingly snarky concerning Luminaria. Both times, I’m the first person to have seen this news. What the fuck are all these artsy folks doing? Don’t they at least give the Current a cursory thumb-through each Wednesday over lunch? They need to get it together. It could well be that someone is writing about them.

As the meeting was ending, I slipped out the current Current and held it up for a few folks to see. One sensitive Alamo Heights matron held her hand to her mouth, eyes wide. Another fellow laughed–“Lame-Inaria, ha!” Felix Padron (director of the Office of the Cultural Affairs) just rolled his eyes, with half a smile, “Yeah, I get it.”

I’ve been selected as a judge for a local film contest. I’m not sure if the judges’ names have been announced, so I’ll keep it vague. It’s actually rather fun. The videos were posted online, and, using an interactive web template, I was able to watch each film, and add my scores. There were some damn good films.

Earlier in the afternoon last Tuesday I got a call from George Cisneros. His son’s in town. He wanted to know if I would like to come on out with them to see the Psychedelic show at SAMA. George has some of his early minimalist video art pieces on a loop in a side gallery in something of an installation environment. It might take you about 30 minutes to view all the five or six pieces. But you can just walk in to take a taste now and then. The music playing is mostly his compositions.

The show is pretty damn good. We’ve got several pieces by the great local artist Alex Rubio. Work by James Cobb, Frank Stella, Victor Vasarely, Robert Williams, and loads more. You gotta go check it out. Tuesday it’s free, between 4pm and 9pm. This is really the best time to go. There are so many families with kids. I love watching kids look at art. This is how we’re supposed to interact with art. Cut out the academic bullshit. See it all as a kid. I love it. And in all honesty, this is why I didn’t choose to attend curator David Rubin’s lecture. I knew damn well he’d suck la scintilla ultima from any further appreciation of these pieces when I come back to enjoy the show again. Besides, if I really want to know what he thinks about the show, I can read the introductory essay in the book / catalog of the show. And the book is just stunningly designed. I’ll even put up with that insipid lavender colored font.

I’m going back next Tuesday during the freebie hours. It’s well worth repeated visits!

Here’s a picture I took on my iPhone of George’s son, Antonio, sitting with a friend, watching the George Cisneros video installation.

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Wednesday, following Luminaria, I met with Deborah for breakfast in a quiet little south side Mexican cafe. We were exchanging our perceptions of Luminaria. I had been reading the reader comments from a couple of articles printed in the Express-News. The most-often mentioned criticism was the density of the crowds. That was clearly evident to me, even though I only was able to see the events going on in the HemisFair Park portion. Deborah was able to see a bit more of the total event. One of the things she thought could have been an easy fix was the way the lines for the food and beverage stations were allowed to snake into the audience area of the stage in La Villita. Line monitors could have fixed that. My own take on the density issue–in the HemisFair Park region–had to do with some wasted dead-zones. First, the HemisFair arch. Because of the two-screen projections beneath the arch, the projectors were set on the walkway behind the arch. This made little sense. People should be able to walk under that arch. And they should be able to congregate all around the arch. But they couldn’t, because an area of about 20 x 25 feet was taped off for the placement of the projectors. The next area of wasted space was the grassy area on the north side of the Magik Theatre. True, there was work projected onto that huge wall of the Magik, but there needed to be other reasons, other art work, in that section, to bring people in, so they wouldn’t all be clustered in that central walkway down towards the Tower of the Americas. And then another huge waste of space, was the Plaza de Mexico, between the Convention Center and the Instituto. This was used for one grand performance, with a large amount of tech support, and when it was over, that entire space was dead.

Now I know that it’s easy to make helpful suggestions to fix problems well after the fact, but, maybe, hopefully, Luminaria will find a way to codify its institutional memory and find ways to move into the future so that things just keep getting better and better.

I’m really looking forward to Luminaria 2011. No more stress. My community service of sitting on the steering committee for 2009 and 2010 will be over, and I will be able to just wander around enjoying all the great work of the San Antonio creative community.

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While I was talking with Deborah, the waitress came up to take our order. I’d been eyeing a two-piece mariachi band–accordion and bajo sexto–who had just wandered in and were setting up their instruments (I’ve not seen this in the a.m., not on a weekday, well, not in this particular cafe).

After we ordered, the waitress looked me over. And then she poked me in the chest.

“Hey, no green.”

I looked at her, then over at Deborah.

“Saint Patrick’s Day,” Deborah said.

“What? Is it Wednesday?” I said.

“No green,” she said with a smile and pinched my shoulder. She had no concern for my yelp. She walked off chuckling. And then the mariachis leapt into a short set of four pieces. The guy on the bajo sexto then walked about collecting tips in a one quart Tupperware bowl.

A sweet San Antonio interlude.

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Okay. If you have a website and it has music, or sound of any kind, get rid of it! That Flash bullshit is bad enough. But your unrequested shitty taste in music is not what I want assaulting my ears, especially if my speakers are cranked on my computer for whatever reason.

There are three websites of organizations run by friends here in San Antonio which I avoid absolutely because it’s not worth listening to myself shout, “Fuck!”

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One of my fellow Luminaria Steering Committee members asked me the day of the big event, “So, what is it you do?” I get this question fairly often. And I don’t know if I’ve ever answered it the same twice.

The IRS has known me as a “filmmaker,” “videographer,” and “writer,” for the last seven or eight years. The bottom line, however, is I make a meager amount from this sort of work. In the past I’ve augmented my income scoring standardized tests, working at a downtown San Antonio gift shop, and, most recently, providing contract copy writing for a Dallas-based auction house. As this last gig is indeed writing, I’ve moved into the category of Filmmaker and Writer. Why not? And then there’s been wedding videos, producing film festivals, and the occasional personal video and editing tutoring. All these things fit in with the other work I do on those sadly infrequent occasions when I get hired to shoot, produce, and or edit video projects.

I don’t know what I blathered to my fellow Luminarian, Steven Payne, Executive Director of the Youth Orchestras of San Antonio, but he seemed to accept me at my word. Then again, he’s one of the nicest men I’ve ever met–maybe he was just being polite.

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[The passage below was written late in the night of Friday, March 19th.]

Okay, So what does Erik Bosse do? There’s no typical day in my life, but today hits a few interesting and instructive highlights to those future biographers.

I woke up around nine am. Stared at the ceiling for awhile, trying to think of how I should plan my day. After about ten minutes of getting nowhere, my phone rang. It was artist Barbara Jackson. She’s a painter and photographer whose been getting into time-based digital work. This year and last year she had video pieces projected on buildings during Luminaria. She was out of town for the day, and just called to thank me for helping out with Luminaria. This was very sweet. The fact is, I was swamped with phone calls, texts, email, and so forth, on the lead-up to Luminaria. But after the event, I fell into radio silence. I felt like a pariah. Do people only contact me when they want something? And so it was nice to have a social call from one of my artist friends. It seems Barbara has a commission for one of her video pieces. She’s been making and selling art for many years. She’s no stranger to very successful shows and being hired for public art projects, but she’s having to learn some new tricks when it comes to creating contracts to sell a video installation. I gave her some names of artists I know who’ve done this. I hope the best for her. She’s a wonderful person and a very fine artist. Once this sale goes through, I hope to spread the good news about where it will be on display!

After I got off the phone with Barbara, I walked down the secret passage in the middle of my triplex and I started a load of laundry on the back porch. As the machine churned away, I made a huge mug of thick Cuban coffee with whipping cream. I ate a banana and enjoyed my coffee as I researched two companies that allow you to stream video. I’ve been working with Angela of Slab Cinema fame on a project that may or may not happen. One of the things the client wants could be kludged through the use of a broad wi-fi signal, two wi-fi enabled laptops, a video camera, a projector, a large screening surface, and…a lot of thick Cuban coffee.

Even if this gig doesn’t materialize, I think I’m zeroing in on a system which can do some pretty cool stuff. This is a strange convergence which can impact about three different projects I’m somewhat connected to.

After putting my clothes on the line and taking a shower, I hopped on my bike and cruised over to C4. I pulled some audio equipment from my locker. I was asked to shoot a video later in the day, and I knew I’d need to show up with some audio tech. I placed all the necessary items in a bag to pick up in a couple of hours. Todd was kind enough to loan me an XLR cable, because mine has a short. Then I grabbed the KLRN “Fresh Cuts” dvd which played during Luminaria, stuck it in my bag, and I rode my bike over to URBAN-15.

George and Catherine Cisneros, the heart and soul of URBAN-15, are thrilled to have been awarded a significant grant which will allow them to bring the media arm of their art and cultural non-profit to a level on par with what they’re mostly famous for–the drum and dance ensembles. By late summer, there will be some amazing things going on at URBAN-15. I’ll share them here when I know more.

I was over at the URBAN-15 Studios to catch up on work for the Josiah Youth Media Festival. I worked a bit on the contact database. I also prepared packets to be mailed to thirteen different high school video and media departments scattered across Bexar County. That’s why I snagged the Fresh Cuts dvd. I was able to find, in the end credits, five high school programs we’d never contacted in past years.

Next week I’ll work on getting the word out to high school programs beyond Bexar country. Also, as many college programs as we have in the system.

As I was working through this, George Cisneros was at an adjacent desk. He was on the phone, nonstop, and multitasking on his computer emailing this and that. George, along with Paula Owen, of the Southwest School of Art and Craft, co-chaired Luminaria Art Night in San Antonio 2010. The two of them are where the buck stops. And speaking of bucks, it looks like the budget is close to being finalized. The invoices are being processed quickly. It may well be that all the finances will be laid out and specified by the big meeting this coming Wednesday. This would be cool. These sorts of large scale art and cultural events rarely balance and clarify their finances with this sort of short turn-around. And it may well be that the whole event comes in under budget, allowing seed money for next year.

I knocked out my Josiah-related work, patted George on the back, and headed out–he was still processing invoices and making and receiving phone calls to clarify this line item and that. Things seem to be running damn smoothly at URBAN-15. They’re on the frontline of the post-Luminaria clean-up, while intensely working overtime to finish their costumes and to rehearse the choreography and drumming for their upcoming Fiesta performances, these being the most important yearly events for URBAN-15.

The weird thing is, they seem to be on top off all this madness. A huge technology grant has fallen in their lap (well, it was no accident–they worked damn hard on the proposal), Luminaria’s all over the place, still, and Fiesta, that grim beast, is coming up so fucking fast.

If I were George or Catherine, I’d be on a plane, right now, to some little-known island in the Adriatic, and when the cab picked me up at the airport, I’d ask, “take me to some cave no one knows about.”

I rode home. Took another shower. Gathered up a bunch a video equipment. I loaded it all in my truck and drove to C4 to pick up the audio equipment.

I then drove to the Starbucks in the Quarry. I hate the Quarry. And I’m not a huge fan of Starbucks. (However, they do have tasty coffee.) I was there because Seme Jatib wanted to meet with me. My Friday had a small window. The Quarry is close to Seme’s home. And it’s also close to the headquarters of PrimaDonna Productions. And that was my 4:00 appointment.

The problem is that Seme was at the DMV getting her Texas driver’s license. Now I’ve never talked to Seme about her nationality. She’s married to an American citizen. And it may well be that she was born in the US. But I do know she spent most of her life in Mexico. She’s fluent in English, but clearly she can really express herself best in Spanish. So, whatever her citizenship status, this driver’s license is damn important. The only problem was that because of the delays it took for her to pass (and pass she did!) meant she had to call me and apologize that she’d be late. And because of my schedule, we were only able to talk for about 20 minutes.

Mostly I wanted to know about how her workshop last month in Ecuador went. Seme showed me some video on her iPhone of an early rehearsal. It looked amazing! Her students have been working on the piece, and I believe they’ll be staging it in the middle of next week. I hope someone records it. Seme isn’t being flown back down to see the piece, so it would be very special if she could see a video recording.

Seme and I talked about Luminaria, an up-coming collaborative piece, as well as a four-part series of dance video screenings…which will hopefully function as a fundraiser for our next collaborative piece. This last item will be a blast. I hope that by the middle of next week we’ll have a venue and a schedule. We’ll be screening amazing films. If you think you don’t like dance, you have to see this stuff. It’s phenomenal!

But I had to leave because I’d agreed to give feedback to Nikki Young’s young acting students over at PrimaDonna Productions seven minutes away. Besos y abrazos with Seme, with a promise of meeting again soon. I drove to PrimaDonna.

I was a bit tardy. I hope no one was too turned off. It was me, Brian Potts, Jade Esteban Estrada, and Michael Druck. We were the industry folks there to give feedback to the studnets. I was in stellar company.

There were six kids, giving us, the panel, their best. I know there were six kids because I left with their contact info. And I hope to one day get back into some serious narrative work, because I know that I have access to so many wonderful young actors. There’s not one kid I saw this afternoon I wouldn’t want to work with. Each had his or her strength and weakness…but each kid had something special. I’m happy to have seen them all!

As Nikki made her goodbyes to the kids and their families, I walked into the back office and conferred with Chadd on the evening’s shoot. PrimaDonna Productions is in the final stretch for an interesting upcoming project. They wanted me to shoot some scenes which they can use for a promotional trailer.

After I got the basics of what they wanted, our crack crew of five loaded equipment into two cars and headed to the north-side to meet with our talent.

Clouds had come in unexpectedly, making our late afternoon natural lighting dimmer than we had hoped. We had to work quick to get the exterior shots in the can. I’m hopeful that the footage came out solid enough.

Next we moved inside. We had two scenes. One in a bedroom. Another in the kitchen. I’m not terribly satisfied with what I shot in the bedroom. It was cramped (hell, we had three kids and five adults in there), poorly lit (we only had time to use existing light), and we didn’t have the time to replace furniture to get the best compositions possible. This might not be much of an issue. It’s a very quick scene, and we shot from several angles. It probably came out fine.

The kitchen scene should be the best. It’s the longest, and we were able to set up a very basic but quite effective lighting scheme. I got some good shots. The plan was to do this in a vérité style, so I was moving around a bit, keeping the camera on auto-focus. I try not to do this, even at weddings. But I told Chadd, who I assume will be editing the footage, to keep an eye out for those moments when the camera drifts out of focus, as it scans to reacquire a new focal point.

We got our last shot off without taking too long. We cooled the lights as we packed up the rest of the equipment. And then, after stowing the lights, we headed back to PDP headquarters at the old El Cid Building on the northern edge of Alamo Heights.

And then I drove home, fighting through the hoards of Spring Break tourists snarling up downtown San Antonio. I stopped at the Pic-Nik on S. Presa, bought some cheap beer, and went home, to start writing this shit.

There you have it.

A random day-in-the-life of Erik Bosse. Some f this this stuff I did will pay me money. But I’ll be quite honest. Only one of these things I mentioned here is clearly a paying gig. Another one might be (I just never asked….I’m THAT stupid). And yet another might turn into something important. Here I’m talking about Seme Jatib, because if you haven’t seen her dance, you might not understand just how honored I am to be working with her. Since a certain someone, who used to win all the local dance grants, has decided to have another baby, and as such, is not currently working as hard as usual, it’s obvious that Seme is the most important force in modern dance in San Antonio. If working with her doesn’t translate to at least a modicum of income, then San Antonio is lost as what I really want it to be: the cultural oasis in the artistic wastelands of south and central Texas.

We’ll see.

Keep reading this blog. Seme and I will be bringing some interesting shows to this town. As well as my continued work with Shimi, Deborah, and Angela and Rick of Slab Cinema. I’ll see if I can get George and Catherine Cisneros of URBAN-15 to get into this new loop where video and dance intersect. Seme and I are also in communication with the Instituto Cultural de Mexico to do something in their wonderful auditorium. Also, Seme and I hope to bring a dance-meets-video performance to Main Plaza once the weather gets better.

This is what happens when you own a 3000 lumens projector, some VJ software, a bit of decent video equipment, and have, quite inexplicably, become a dear friend and collaborator with a beautiful young woman who is a genius as choreographer and dancer. The first collaboration between Seme Jatib and Erik Bosse was some solid and honest work. But collaboration number 2 will be much stronger. We only had two weeks to bring our first work into shape. The next piece will be, simply put, awesome!

But, I was talking about my day.

And that was a not so untypical day in my life.

G’night.

After Midnight of Luminaria (March 14th early am).

Ah, Luminaria. The best thing ever? Or an uncomfortable metaphor reflected in the very real pain in the blisters on my feet and the chaffing in my pants from the miles and miles I walked in a thirty acre plot during the last 19 hours?

I can bitch and moan, but let me begin with one basic highlight. I’m talking about me. You know, Erik. I was able to finagle three works in which I had huge vested interests onto Stage Seven, also known as the Dance Stage. Now people can carp all they want about conflict of interests and such. See, I’m on the steering committee, and this could make me suspect. But committee members can go through the Luminaria vetting process like anyone else, they just recuse themselves from the vote. Perhaps this is wrong, but it’s the current official Luminaria process.

So, my film, “Hoop Dance,” starring ST Shimi, came out of the proposal process. It’s a collaboration between me and Shimi. She not only danced in the film, but she performed live as it screened.

But there was another performance slated for the Dance Stage in which I was involved. Seme Jatib’s “Words into the Wind.” We collaborated on this piece back in January. My video, her dance / choreography. This piece was proposed by Seme. And it was accepted by the dance committee.

I’ll be splitting my honorarium with Shimi. Seme will no doubt be splitting her honorarium with me.

It all works out.

Artists often collaborate. And we try and be fair with one another.

And then there was the third dance-related film I worked on for Luminaria which also screened on Stage Seven. Deborah Keller-Rihn’s “Turning the Light Around.” She produced and directed the film. I shot it. We both edited it. There’ll be no sharing of the honorarium. We collaborate all the time. Deborah was central to my 2009 Luminaria film. (And I love that film we made together!)

Collaboration is a strange process. It’s all about relationships. There were three video pieces that screened on Stage Seven tonight at Luminaria which were collaborations between two or more artists, each having a film component. I’m happy to make a impact on a film and dance collaboration for Luminaria.

Because of logistical reasons, we needed to pad the time of the run-of-show on Stage Seven, and I was cajoled onto the stage on three occasions to talk about my involvement in each of these three pieces. The fact is, I was honored to get up on stage, clutching a wireless mike, and blathering on and on to huge audiences about my work with such wonderful, beautiful, and amazingly talented women as Deborah Keller-Rihn, Seme Jatib, and ST Shimi. I’m basically an introvert. But over the years I’ve been forced to talk in front of groups, television cameras, and, in this case, churning crowds of humanity which might have been in the thousands. But, as shy and neurotic as I might be, these times on the stage were a highlight for me. I was promoting the works of people I care deeply about. Here I am on stage with the wonderful Seme Jatib.

It was well worth all the hard volunteer hours I put in on the committee. But, man, I’m beat.

I was up at five in the morning. By five-thirty, I was over at C4 mastering and burning compilation DVDs. I made it to the Luminaria “Command Center” for a 9am meeting. And , once there, I didn’t leave the Luminaria grounds until after midnight. From the time I headed out from home on early Saturday morning, until I made it back home by Saturday night (well, technically, Sunday morning), I had clocked 19 hours into a very busy and stressful day. It’s now three in the morning (to be honest, I don’t know if that’s with or without the daylight savings time change)…and I’m going to bed.

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Sunday Night, After Luminaria

I hope many people who read this were adventurous enough to have attended Saturday night’s Luminaria. Adventurous not because it was edgy or anything, but because it was a pain in the ass to find parking, and it was packed with a shitload of people.

I was co-chair of the film committee. We had over 20 films and videos. They ranged in length from 2 to 18 minutes. Probably three-quarters were produced expressly for Luminaria. The filmmakers ranged in age from 15 to 70. We had a couple of first-time filmmakers, such as Deborah Keller-Rihn, who stepped out of her photographic comfort zone to produce a moving and nuanced experimental piece, “Turning the Light Around.” We also had work by established filmmakers with a solid body of work behind them, such as Ray Santiesteban, Michele Monseau, and Jessica Torres (who, though she has only recently turned 18, has been making solid short films and winning prizes since she was 14–and no one had better call her a novice!).

I like to think that the film & video artists were just as impressive and diverse as artists from other disciplines.

Luminaria 2010 was a great event, but I was so damn busy putting out fires here and there that I wasn’t able to take many pictures. However, here are a few.

Ms. Franco, director of the Instituto Cultural de Mexico.

“Turning the Light Around,” a film by Deborah Keller-Rihn.

“Words into the Wind,” dance and choreography by Seme Jatib, video projection by Erik Bosse.

“River Hoop,” live dance performance by ST Shimi (AKA Shimarella), projected film by Erik Bosse.

Art Cart, by Oscar Alvarado, with featured artist, seated inside, the great Jacinto Guevara (and I’m thrilled to include them here, because I don’t think they were vetted–it looks like they were rogue guerrillas!!!).

I hope to write a post soon about the Bike Porn night at C4. That was almost as fun as Luminaria….

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Okay. Bike Porn.

I’m woefully behind n my blogging schedule, so I’ll breeze through the Bike Porn experience fairly quickly.

I mean, really, who could do a better job than one of my favorite writers, Ashley Lindstrom. She wrote a wonderful piece for the SA Current. I like to think that I helped make this happen. I put Ashley and the Rev. Phil in touch with one another. I knew she could give a sensitive yet playful account of the show. Actually, none of this would probably have happened were it not for that meddling Jenny F., a mutual friend who bridged the gap between me and Phil.

Because Phil didn’t secure his venue (C4 Workspace) until four days from the event, there was little time to get the word out. I did my best, as did Todd and Debbie with C4. And when the Rev. Phil and his small entourage hit town noonish on March 8th (the day of the screening), they hunkered down at C$, using their laptops and C4’s wi-fi to plot out a route of a quick outreach to the hotbeds of San Antonio’s bike, porno, and cinema subcultures.

I was afraid that only ten people would show up. I know of five people who told me they’d come. The evening started off slow. But by the time the show began, we’d filled every seat. People were standing. C4 isn’t that big. We had at least 50 people crammed inside.

The films were fun and playful. And, yes, some, but not all, of the material was hardcore. But this wasn’t you’re run of the mill porno. This was porno being made by people who had never done this sort of stuff before, and who were having a blast doing it.

The high point of the evening was when, at the end of the night, the Rev. Phil came out with one of his staff, a lovely young woman, and, as they proselytized in a carny sort of way about liberation in a sexual and bicycle sort of way, they quickly and quite naturally divested themselves of their cloths. Phil was completely naked. His assistant, well, she, still had on panties and hose. But it all seemed so innocent and natural. Then they did a song and dance routine, ending with the woman leaping up so that Phil could catch her. Here’s my quickly snapped photo.

People always say this about nudism: “it’s more natural than sexual.” This was pretty much true during the closing show. I should point out that we, the audience, weren’t naked (though I want to say that the very best part of the night was when a cute girl in the second row said, during the Q & A session: “Lets all take off our shirts!”), but there was certainly this sense that seeing a couple of healthy young people standing in front of us disrobed was really no big deal.

It was a wonderful evening. Great films. An appreciative audience. And I have to say that the Rev. Phil is a unique individual. A little crazy, perhaps, but a wonderful, liberating force who I can only hope will one day pass through your life.

Bike Porn rocks! They’re gearing up for a fourth tour. I’ll do my best to help them get a bigger audience in San Antonio for 2011.

Saturday.

I was watching The Dead Zone via Hulu.com this afternoon. It’s a pretty crappy movie. Basically, I was jonesing for a good Christopher Walken film, and I’d never seen this one. Now, first off, I find Stephen King’s writing to be absolutely unreadable. His syntax is flat and repetitive; his characters are two-dimensional and I don’t care about them; he can convey neither tension within the plot nor identification of the reader with any characters of other narrative elements. How he’s achieved his worshipful status is beyond me. But then again, I fail to understand how anyone could have cast a vote for Geo. Bush. Add to that, I’ve never managed to warm to David Cronenberg. His early films are cluttered with uninspired cinematography and inelegant editing. The aesthetics were meager, and I can only assume he never hired an art department. Now, his later films, are much better–they’re well shot, skillfully edited, and, as far as I’m concerned, their strengths lie in impressive art design. The Fly, Dead Ringers, Naked Lunch, Crash, and Spider, were all great films to look at, but none of them were particularly good movies. Not that I should be expecting much. Cronenberg is basically the Canadian Brian De Palma, another horribly mundane director who manages, inexplicably, to make many people quite excited. So, let’s return to the real reason anyone would watch The Dead Zone: Christopher Walken. I shouldn’t have even bothered. When the best performance in your star-studded movie is Tom Skerritt, it might be time for you to reexamine how you go about directing your actors. Basically, we just get one decent scene where Walken does what we want him to do–make us uncomfortable. It’s in the middle of the second act. I perked up, and then I realized it wasn’t really a new development, just a lucky accident. Oh, well. I guess I’ll just get Communion from Netflix–that’s grade-A Walken, where’s he’s chewing the scenery like some errant ravenous goat wandered in to the topiary festival.

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This morning I walked the two blocks to the little pocket park at Crofton and Constance, you know, where I shot Deborah’s film the previous day. The park had its official grand opening. There was live music, muffins and coffee, and even a big red ribbon which was eventually cut with a pair of huge novelty scissors.

http://i60.photobucket.com/albums/h7/erikbosse/parkopening.jpg

There were a few local artists. Oscar Alvarado was there, out walking the family dog. His brother, Robert Alvarado was there. I saw Jenny Brown, I believe. Barbara Jackson was in attendance. I think I saw Betty Ward. I’m sure there were more.

http://i60.photobucket.com/albums/h7/erikbosse/speakerscrofton.jpg

There were several speakers. One, Tommy Adkisson (a Bexar County Commissioner) was rather long-winded, though quite amusing and informative. And when his time was up, they brought up Mary Alice Cisneros, the councilwoman for district 1, where the park is located–in fact, my district. Now I don’t know a lot about Mary Alice, but, at least today, she embraced brevity. I don’t think she spoke more than 20 words. Fine with me. I don’t care for blather. But so truncated was her “speech” than when fellow city council member David Medina, Jr. came up to say a few words, I was so hoping he’d give us something like:

“Wow, Mary Alice! Just, wow! I don’t think I can follow THAT!”

But, no he just took the podium said a goodly amount of sweet platitudes. What I found interesting was when he suggested that we consider the new Eagleland foot bridge, visible a quarter-mile away, just over his shoulder. He explained that that bridge was officially within district 5, his domain.

Oh, yeah? What do you know? I didn’t know the boundary was so close.

After the ribbon-cutting I headed back home. I’m not a home-owner; I’m very suspicious of gentrification; and personally I think that this lovely corner of my neighborhood was just as beautiful (if not more so) before this renovation project. But who am I too throw cold water on a giddy neighbor civic circle-jerk.

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Sunday.

CAM stands for Contemporary Arts Month. It’s a San Antonio tradition which has been going on for, as I understand, 25 years.

The CAM folks have decided to move the month from July (one of my favorite months– sunny and warm and filled with all sorts of possibilities!) to March (a cold, wet, drab time of the year, filled with more winter misery than spring giddiness). I suppose they have a reason, I just don’t know what it is….

Today was the first official event of CAM 2010 (or was it the first unofficial event of CAM 2010?). I’m talking about the Rebirth of CAM Parade. It began at 4pm near Roosevelt Park. That’s just a short stroll from Brackenridge High School; In fact, it’s a nice short walk from my house. I left at 3:40 and got there early. I walked along the new portion of the River Walk–the Eagleland extension.

I was a bit taken aback on how small the event was. Maybe 45 people showed up. There was no one from any of the TV stations. Though I understand there was at least one person from the print news.

Even though I wished there had been more people in attendance and that there was a greater level of energy and passion, it was still good fun. Perfect weather. And I got to see some luminaries of the local art scene–friends, acquaintances, people who I know yet who never seem to know me, and even, I suspect, a couple of enemies. Let’s see, I recall seeing Leslie Raymond and Jason Jay Steven (of course), Chuck Ramirez (showing a bit of leg), Rick Frederick, Anne Wallace, Cruz Ortiz, Rick and Angela Martinez (of Slab Cinema fame), Oscar Alvarado, ST Shimi, and, well, I know there were other people who I know or know of whom I’m forgetting.

People were out with their kids, dogs, bicycles. We all paraded along the new river walk path to Blue Star.

Here’s a link to a YouTube video a shot and hastily “edited.”

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UnPRb9AZGHQ

And, of course, some photos:

http://i60.photobucket.com/albums/h7/erikbosse/cam2.jpg

http://i60.photobucket.com/albums/h7/erikbosse/cam3.jpg

http://i60.photobucket.com/albums/h7/erikbosse/cam1.jpg

http://i60.photobucket.com/albums/h7/erikbosse/oscarandshimi.jpg
It’s Oscar and Shimi, in Carny mode.

http://i60.photobucket.com/albums/h7/erikbosse/stshimirebirthcam.jpg
ST Shimi, with, what else, a hoop!

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Earlier tonight I received a call from George Cisneros. He was over at the URBAN-15 Studios. He told me that a small film crew from LA was over there, needing assistance. Could I pop over and help out with their brainstorming session? I was vegging out to a bad 1950s monster movie on Netflix on-demand, so, I said, sure.

It’s just a three minute drive, and soon I was in the large kitchen at URBAN-15 drinking tea and eating grapefruit at the island counter with George and Catherine, as well as the artist Vincent Valdez and two young guys from California. It seems they are involved in a short video which is supposed to screen this Saturday. There were some technical issues which were concerning them. Neither George nor I were able to help them with our personal resources (mine being meager, and George’s being allocated to some serious current projects). All we could do was to fish through our contact lists and try and give them names and numbers of people who might be able to help.

I hope it all works out for them. They were all very gracious and clearly know what they’re doing, it’s just that they’re a long way removed from their usual support network. If they get what they need, I can only assume it will be because Vincent Valdez seems to be universally loved here in San Antonio. He’s an extremely accomplished young local artist who, even though he’s moved to LA, continues to come back home and helped to inspire other young San Antonio artists.

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Monday.

Things aren’t looking too swell for the Rev. Phil. His traveling pervy carnival show showcasing films which combine, at first blush, a seemingly incongruent ménage à trois of experimental films, erotica, and bicycles. His Bike Porn road show is slated to hit San Antonio on March 8th, but his planed venue suddenly crapped out. (I don’t know who it was, but it might be a cause for a boycott.) Check him out at his temporary website:

http://bikeporntour.blogspot.com/

I sent him an email with about four possible venues. However, with his short, exuberant emailed reply this evening, it seems clear he didn’t really read my email. I had made it pretty clear that the venue he thought would save his bacon, was truly unavailable. Actually, with the scattering of typos, I think he’d just enjoyed one too many Mickeys big mouths. My hope is that by the eventual light or day, he’ll reread the email and get on the stick.

I’m beginning to fear there will be no Bike Porn this year. Maybe the Fetish Fairly will climb out of those Velcro restraints and get to work. But time is flying, babe…. Time is flying.

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One of the problems of hanging around the San Antonio arts and cultural scene is that there are quite a few people who I know (and because of the free-floating chisme, I feel I know them quite well); yet these folks have never been properly introduced to me, so, actually we don’t truly know one another. Take for example, Agosto Cuellar, one of the very high-profile San Antonio fashion designers. He has no idea who I am. But there he was, late this morning, sitting in the next booth along the wall at Tito’s on S. Alamo. He was talking to a young friend. I sipped a few cups of coffee and enjoyed a couple of breakfast tacos. And while I was making notes in my little composition book to plan out my day, I’d occasionally pause to eavesdrop on what those guys were talking about. Nothing juicy. Just clever and amusing. Tito’s is a nice place for people-watching and people-listening.

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After my late breakfast, I headed to C4 to follow my breakfast notes and get some shit done.

It was mostly emails. A few phone calls. I also posted some photos and video on FaceBook. I never used to post this sort of information directly to social media sites. But after watching Venus shoot a video and post it immediately to FaceBook, I’ve begun to question if I really want to post video and photos on specific sites, and then try and find how various blogs, social media sites, etc. handle the embed codes. It always seems to be in flux. What a pain.

The truth is, I hate technology. My new camera shoots a particular flavor of HD video. I can push it and stroke it and modify it by using iMovie (the Bozo the Clown version of video editing software)…but my (admittedly old) professional video editing software I paid a shit-load for, can’t even recognize the files.

If I decided to eschew professionalism, I could just embrace this new camera. Shoot HD. Edit with iMovie. Publish to Vimeo or YouTube or, hell, FaceBook.

But the problem is, I can’t make heads nor tails of iMovie. It’s just nuts. And so, it looks like I need to buy the newest version of FCP. Or, um, I could also “buy” a copy. And by that I mean, steal. Everyone loves a pirate, right?

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Wednesday.

Okay. The Rev. Phil has found a home for his peripatetic perversity–that traveling Bike Porn show.

http://i60.photobucket.com/albums/h7/erikbosse/CycleBound_SA.jpg

It’ll be at C4 Workspace this coming Monday, March 8th. Bike Porn 3: Cycle Bound. Yep, it’s “amateur bicycle erotica.” So, slather that that banana seat with a dose of Armor All, don your ass-less chaps, and pedal out to the historical King William neighborhood. What? Don’t have a bike? Drive. Walk. Take the bus. Come on out. 7pm. 108 King William. Fetish fans don’t be shy. If you’ve a pervy proclivity towards pedal-powered perambulation, well, it looks like you’ve found your Monday evenings entertainment.

See you Monday!

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Because I’m the co-chair of the film committee of Luminaria, I’m pushing the responsibilities of my own Luminaria film to the very ragged edge of the deadline.

I shot the footage some time back in a huge HD format. And, really, it looks fantastic. But I need to scale the footage down to a Standard Definition format to edit. And, also, to print to DVD. I’ve been tinkering with various compression parameters off and on for weeks. I’ve finally found an arrangement that looks quite nice. Tonight I converted all the footage. I have my basic plan of attack for the structure. I’ve got my rough settings for some chroma key work. I’ve wrangled some additional images and footage to augment the original footage shot back in late 2009. Also, I have chosen a piece of open source music. This weekend I will layer on additional music and audio effects.

I’m feeling pretty good about the direction I’m going in.

My friend Deborah is opening her studio at Blue Star for this coming First Friday. She’s hanging art created by her Tao study group. She invited me to show some work as well. I was going to do my Virtual I-Ching, but I don’t have time to gather all the video clips. I think I will try to have some of my Luminaria piece put together and project that on the wall of her studio.

If not that, well, I’ll have something.

Come see work by Erik Bosse on March 5, First Friday, at the Blue Star Art Complex. Look for the Keller-Rihn Studio (AKA, the Green Tara Studio), the second floor of Building B.

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I’ll close on a photo I took with my iPhone from a bike ride this afternoon. I was out near Mission Espada, sitting on the levy slope above the San Antonio River. I was surrounded by lavender flowers and buzzing bees. It was sunny and warm. I say Spring has begin in San Antonio, March 3rd. So Be It!

http://i60.photobucket.com/albums/h7/erikbosse/flowersandbees.jpg

And about fucking time.

Whew! The other day I finally merged four rambling blog entries I had been accumulating for about a week and a half. They are crammed into a massive and droning twelve page skim-fest. Sorry for those folks who are looking for their names. I dropped in only a few. Although I was pleased to see that Amanda Silva replied with a happy birthday wish to a previous blog of mine. Amanda’s a beautiful young woman whose uncanny intelligence, memory, and impeccable sense of timing has allowed her shine as an actress in quite a few locally produced films. I have had the great pleasure to work with her on several projects. Amanda’s completing her undergraduate studies this May from Texas State University in San Marcos. I wish her the best. I know her as a competent and strong actress, as well as a smart and sensitive filmmaker. But I know that her interest range much broader than theater and film. Let’s all keep an eye on where she might be headed. I mean, damn, this is the woman, who, as a teenager, invited me as a local filmmaker to her cable access talk show. You have to admit that’s just cool!

Monday was a moribund and sluggish day. I admit it–I checked out over the weekend. Just withdrew, shut down. Were it not for a bike ride on Sunday when it got up into the upper 70s (!!) I might as well been stuffed into some Yukon cabin with a team of underfed huskies huddled outside, casting their baleful and ravenous eyes at the only door.

I managed to come out for a gulp of fresh air on Monday, only to be hit with a barrage of demands from phone, email, texting, snail mail, FaceBook, Twitter, and directly to my face. Missing were the messenger pigeon, telegraph, and fax (the dead languages of the modern information community).

Now that I’ve found myself pulled back into helping promote the Josiah Youth Media Festival (the screenings will be at URBAN-15 Studios, of course, this July 8-10), I’ve a new batch of responsibilities. Add the constant chatter of Luminaria demands to the hopper, and things get a bit harried. I’m also working on four video / art projects with deadlines in the next four weeks. It’s a good thing I don’t have, like you know, a real job, or I’d be fucked.

I actually stoked the engine well enough on Monday so that I was able to end the day feeling quite productive.

Tuesday, however, was just weird. I got maybe four hours of sleep–which is strange because I almost never have insomnia–but even though I was up at seven, I didn’t get out of the house until a bit after noon. The fact is, it was cold, and it was sleeting. But I finally warmed myself up in front of my stove sucking on a hot cup of thick black coffee and butched it up headed out to face the day.

My first stop was KLRN. They submitted a proposal to the Luminaria Film Committee. Their “Fresh Cuts” program of local student work. KLRN is our local PBS affiliate. A very warm and charming woman by the name of Malinda was willing to have the DVD delivered to me, but, really, the KLRN studios are only a few short minutes away from me, on the northern cusp of downtown. So I drove over to pick up the disk.

Once I made the pick up, I was driving back south through downtown on St. Mary’s. The sleet was picking up. I watched my wiper blades shoving aside a decent accumulation with each pulse.

I was heading to C4 Workspace, to get some work done. I crossed Durango, and turned right on King William. I made a u-turn, so I could park on the other side of the street. At that moment it began to snow. As I came to a stop at the curb in front of C4, I saw my friend Venus Prado, who has a part-time desk at C4, bolt out the door. She was shooting video with her little digital point-and-shoot camera. Even with my windows rolled up, I could hear her shouting. “It’s snowing in San Antonio! It’s really really snowing in San Antonio!!!”

As I opened the door to my truck she came up, accosting me.

“It’s Erik!” she shouted. “He can confirm this! Is it really snowing in San Antonio?”

I had to give my confirmation. Indeed. It was snowing. In San Antonio.

Venus was shouting, dancing in the street, and, even gave me her camera so I could record her…well, her dancing in the street with snow-joy, as she pointed to the Tower of the Americas, so that no one would doubt that, yes, it was snowing in San Antonio.

Three minutes later, it stopped snowing. We went inside. Well, I probably went inside sooner. I’m not such a fan of snow. But then I didn’t grow up in San Antonio, where it almost never snows. It might hit Fredericksburg, maybe even Sanderson, but hardly ever San Antonio.

Venus was on a tear. As I made a couple of phone calls, she’d posted the video on FaceBook. The whole three minute micro snow flurry of the King William neighborhood. Hell, there I am, in the video, looking fat, awkward, in my alpaca hat nattering on and on about some nonsense.

Here’s the video (all I have is the FaceBook posting):

http://www.facebook.com/home.php?#!/video/video.php?v=1368184925994

Now Venus also posted her video to the local Fox News outlet. I’m not saying she’s a fan of Fox–I suspect she isn’t–but it was the one local news source whose user-provided video interface was simple and easy to use. I mean, she really wanted to share this.

Share she did.

Here’s a link to a clip on the San Antonio Fox 29 News where they used two quick clips of Venus’ video.

http://www.foxsanantonio.com/newsroom/top_stories/videos/vid_1332.shtml

Venus is nuts, and I love her to death. She’s a poet, teacher, writer, theater nerd, artist, and on and on. She has hit the stage on several occasions for local performances of Rocky Horror, so it’s no surprise to find her effusive, extroverted, and just plain wonderfully silly. I’m glad to see that even though she’s recently become a mom, she can still plug directly into that pure joy of playful discovery.

My Tuesday was a burnt out unproductive waste of time. Venus’ Tuesday was a playful, giddy, and clearly unproductive day–but of course, all she did was play in the snow and play on the internet. But, hell, her play day, her snow day, connected her to so many of her friends and family via social media. Also, she managed to get her footage and her name onto the local news. Bravo–Venus rocks!

Here’s a bad photo I took, trying to capture this anemic snow flurry. Try and pretend to see the snow flakes falling.

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Monday I was hanging out at Deborah’s studio. She had company–a a friend was there, painting; also, a student of hers, was there, having a minor emotional crisis.

We were all drinking tea and coffee, listening to music, and talking about this and that. Eventually the other two had to leave. Deborah was grousing about having to put together an invitation for an art show. She belongs to a Tao group, and they are showing their art in her studio for the Blue Star First Friday in March.

I reminded Deborah that she can do this sort of stuff in her sleep. I told her I’d help. I happened to have my camera, so I took a photo of one of the paintings that will be in the show. It’s a playful abstract piece by a guy named Matthew.

After I transferred the imaged into Deborah’s computer, she went to work composing a digital file of the invitation. My part was basically moral support. As she shifted images and text about on her computer, I was lounging on her futon with my laptop and playing around with my GrandVJ software.

“Hey, do you want to be in the Tao Show?”

“What?” I looked up.

“I think your name’s going to look good on this invitation.”

“Um, well, sure.”

“Maybe a video,” Deborah said, turning to me with a smile, “Maybe your Luminaria piece.”

“Um, I don’t see how that can be Tao.”

“Yeah, there’s that,” she said. “Maybe a photograph?”

“Hell, put me down! I’ll come up with something.”

She nodded and typed my name into the invitation.

“You know,” she said softly, “this means you’ll have to start coming to the Tao meetings….” I’m not sure if she was serious, but it doesn’t sound so bad.

It looks like another of the artists from the Tao group wants to show a film. I’ll bring my projector. I was thinking of doing a film myself, but, tonight, while driving home from the grocery store, I hit upon this idea of a digital I Ching.

I use either a computer monitor or my projector to display the image. And using my VJ software, I assign two dozen video clips to be triggered by my little Akia mini keyboard. Anyone can walk up and I’ll do his or her I Ching. The easy coin-flipping method. Not only will I be able to tell the curious visitors the meaning the their randomly generated I Ching hexagrams, but they will also be able to see a projected image of six semi-transparent layers of video which I have shot. Each coin-generated hexagram will also generate a specific video collage. With a bank of 15 clips to chose from (none used more than once per projection) we’re looking at 120 combinations. (Well, I might be way off, my math skills are practically nil).

So, I’m still thinking. I’ll either make a little Tao-related film, or else I’ll play an interactive Tao video game. The bottom line is, I’ll be participating on First Friday this March 5th. I’ll be there, doing something. Deborah’s studio is the second floor in that building where Jump-Start is, Building B, I believe.

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Wednesday, Feb. 25.,

Speaking of Jump-Start, that’s where I was tonight. The monthly W-I-P (works in progress). I’m still amazed at how few people show up for this event. It’s just five fucking bucks, people. Not only do you get to see wonderful performances by dancers and performance artists, but you get to provide feedback during the critical response portion, and who knows, they might even listen to you.

Tonight was Jayne King, NRGMix, and PACDance (Palo Alto College).

Jayne’s piece suffered from an tech glitch. She was performing in accompaniment to a video projected off a DVD. Because of some sort of compatibility issue, the DVD kept freezing. As a Luddite who uses technology every damn day, I know that horror oh too well. If video formats and compression codecs and physical media and hardware and software and blah blah blah did what they claimed to do, I’d be a huge technophile. But they don’t, and so I’m not.

Each time the video froze, whether it was one second or four, I seized up myself. I’ve been there with pieces I’ve screened. But, poor Jayne, it must have been so much more intense, she was on stage, performing, and that DVD wasn’t just providing picture, but it had the audio track as well.

Oh, well. It was a nice piece. And Jayne kept here cool admirably. I liked the domesticity, where she used props from her own life. A rocking chair and a bicycle. I’ve seen Jayne riding around on her bike–we live just a few blocks from one another. And I’ve visited her house before, and seen the rocking chair. The cool thing about Jayne’s place is that she has this huge room–maybe a wall was knocked out–that’s basically empty with mirrors all around. Yeah, she’s created here own dance studio in her house. I don’t know how often she practices and works out, but she has an amazingly toned body. And so, it comes as no surprise when I see her perform a dance piece where she uses, as props, furniture usually found in the home.

The next piece was by NRGMix. There were four dancers who performed a high-energy nouveau salsa routine, dancing as two couples. They were young, beautiful, and spot-on on their moves.

A wonderful performance.

The closing piece was by some dancers from Palo Alto College. The choreographer was also one of the dancers. All I remember was that his name was Erik (or, maybe, Eric). Three woman, two men. They wore matching masks. I loved their energy and moves. Absolutely sexy, but in that weird abstract sort of way you get from modern dance…well, when it’s done well.

The best part of the W-I-P was when a guy sitting in the row in front of me looked around and said: “Hey, weren’t you here last month? Yeah, the guy who did the video.” I admitted that, yes, I was. He climbed over his seat and sat on my row. “Well, I want to sit closer and enjoy your quirky comments.”

What a nice stroke to my minuscule ego. I assume I’m basically a very forgettable person, but someone seemed to have remembered me.

Thanks!

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Thursday. Feb. 25.

I frittered away the day doing less than I should have but more than I could have.

There are maybe five people who I’ve let messages with and who I expect to get back with me, such as a certain someone with the CE Group, the marketing firm handling Luminaria. Three of them responded in one fashion or another. But not this certain someone from CE nor this certain other person who often insists that I respond “ASAP” to any email.

The bottom line is that I ask so little. And the truth is, I get even less than so little. It’s time to ask–nay!–DEMAND so fucking much.

But, really, I don’t know if I’d be comfortable making that major change in my personality. And as much as I resist becoming Erik Bosse, Asshole, I also find myself becoming exhausted in my role as Erik Bosse, doormat. Perhaps I could aim for some sort of middle ground. Yes, but it’s hard for me to dismiss this crazed hunger for vengeance.

Well, goodness, it looks like I have to set aside some time for a bit of introspection.

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The one productive activity today was my meeting at the Instituto Cultural de Mexico en San Antonio. This is where a major part of the film component of Luminaria will happen. I met with my fellow Luminaria co-chair Adam Rocha, and the director of the Instituto, Gabriela Franco Palafox (Ms. Franco is the blond in the linked photo).

It was a great meeting. Gabriela saved my ass. The Instituto is an artistic and cultural center placed here, in San Antonio, by the Mexican government to facilitate a cultural exchange. The Instituto has amazing programs and events. And Gabriela Franco Palafox is a perfect ambassador. She’s well-informed and well-connected, a perfect product of a Mexican liberal arts education. Add to that, a gracious host with a playful sense of humor, and, well, surly, we have one of my very favorite leaders within the San Antonio art community.

Gabriela saved my ass because I discovered that three of the artists I had slated to have their films projected on the outer wall of the Instituto were providing pieces with audio. Yes, I had known that, but I thought we could hook up a sound system and take it from there. But, no, the production committee wouldn’t have it. I can see their concern, but again, I ask for so little…..

Gabriela gave me a way out. She allowed Luminaria to project video in another one of her galleries.

She is currently my best friend.

Those of you who live locally and who have never been to the Instituto, check it out. Great art can be found here. Also, it’s located in one of the coolest parts of San Antonio, the HemisFair, a place where so many of the locals seem to think exists mostly for the tourists.

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Friday.

Personally I think planning outdoor events during March in San Antonio is just plain dumb. It’s still, strictly speaking, winder. And even though San Antonio is on the outer edge of balmy South Texas, it’s still a crap shoot, weather-wise. It’s just as likely to me cold and damp as pleasant. And why in god’s name did Contemporary Arts Month (CAM), a San Antonio tradition for 25 years, has decided to switch their month from July (when the weather is wonderful) to March? In the past, many CAM events happened outside.

The unpredictability and general yuckiness of March is why I prefer not to shoot exterior scenes at this time of year.

There’s this film Deborah has been wanting to shoot with a dancer on the banks of the San Antonio River. We got our dancer, a lovely young prodigy who’s been training in classical Indian dance. She’s from, I believe, Greece. She’s 12 or 13, and I’m sure was game for whatever was requested. But her father seemed a bit over-protective…though I can’t find fault there, as I believe that’s rather the very definition of fatherhood.

We were ahead of schedule, so Deborah suggested that we do a late afternoon shoot, to catch the low southern light. I was hoping for some extreme angular lighting, hitting both our dancer as well as slashing across the river in the background. We had a 1K Mole-Richardson, a 500w Lowell, and my bulky 500w ellipsoidal. Add to that a shitload of groovy gels in all the colors of the Rosco rainbow.

Oh, well. You have to be flexible and think fast on your feet. Actually, I was short on the run of extension cords. We’d planned to pull power from the home of our friend Barbara, but even with all the “stingers” (to use industry argot), I was still 35 feet short. I gave Phil a call. He’s my neighbor two doors down.

“Hey, mon, what’s up?” came his quick and chirpy Brit accent.

“Look, I’m over at Barbara’s place. We’re shooting a film. I’m in need of a really long extension cord, or, maybe, an inverter adapter to put into my truck’s cigarette lighter.”

I’d realized that as the only thing we needed power for (now that we were shooting with existing sunlight) was the CD player the girl would be dancing to; so a simple inverter would be another, valid option.

Phil, who was just two blocks away, came straight over, armed with both options. The inverter worked a charm.

A photographer friend of Deborah’s, who lives a couple of blocks away, was out walking with her little girl. She hung out for awhile. At some point she disappeared, only to show up later, on her bike (with a toddler-trailer). She now had her camera. And Barbara came out from her house, to see if she could help out. As there now was no need to move lights around, all I could do was ask her if she’d like to shoot some still images. Barbara is a very accomplished professional artist, whose work in painting, photography, and, recently, video, has been well received. She was happy to fetch her camera. On a side note, Barbara’s involved with SARA (San Antonio River Authority), on the board on on a committee, something. And this area where we were shooting has been designated as a new park, and the grand opening celebration will be tomorrow.

Other people who showed up by happenstance were my next door neighbors Dina and Bradley with their two kids. They were out enjoying the beautiful afternoon. Also, Hope came by. She lives across the street from me. Her husband, the artist Carlos Cortez, created the two faux bois benches recently installed in this little pocket park, just in time for the grand opening.

Here’s a photo I shot from the new park while sitting on one of Carlos’ benches:

I don’t usually enjoy working with gawkers, but these were friends and neighbors, the people who make living in King William such a blast.

Here’s a quick raw screen grab from this afternoon’s shoot.

I’ll share some of Barbara’s images when she gets them to me.

I still want to shoot down along the river at night with a brace of decently robust lights. Hell, I’d even brought my 3000 lumen projector as yet another light source. I was prepared…in a half-assed manner. I need to invest in a heavy duty gas generator which can manage 25 to 30 amps at 120 volts–this should handle somewhere in the 4 to 5 thousand watt needs for what I’d like to play with.

It’s only a question of money, right?

My apologizes in advance to the three-dozen or so readers of my blog, but, feel free to skim. I’ll not judge. I’ve written rather a lot during the last week or so, but never got around to posting this.

I will try and trim down some of the fat.

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Feb. 11.

The truth is I have only a marginal and minuscule skill-set. I’m shockingly unemployable for a fairly well educated man in his forties. But still I struggle along, occasionally even checking out the job listings on, um, Craig’s List. Don’t laugh. I’ve come out ahead, financially, from following up on a couple of postings. But, mostly, its a wasteland of shallow and uninspired projects slated for a grand YouTube premiere at some unspecified future date. That, or else the ever hopeful pornographers of tomorrow.

But sometimes I find a posting that’s just so sweet, so precious, I’m loath NOT to share. Here’s my current fave:

Movie Script/Writer/Insider (San Antonio)

If selected you must be willing to sign a confidentiality waiver. Meaning you are not to disclose details about this project to anyone unless you want to be sued.

A solid Hollywood Script can generate in excess of $300,000.00.

This is a non-paid job unless our script gets picked up (otherwise this is for 45% of the earnings from the script)

I have 3 awesome movie script ideas, but im not so great a writer. I am looking for someone not averse to hard work for get these projects done and I will break you off 45% of what we sell the scripts for.

This job could generate in excess of $900,000.00 if my scripts are picked up

James
email me 1st
then I will give you my phone number.

Now someone needs to clue James into the great (and dare I say, “insider”) secret. You know. You don’t need to be a “great” writer to write screenplays. In fact, most likely, it’ll work against you. I suspect that this “James” is a leg up on most Hollywood screenwriters in that he’s learned to log into Craig’s List. And, just looky here–he’s already generated in excess of 110 words! He’s already halfway there!

Ah, sweet Craig’s List! It’s where you go to find people to work for you for free.

I shouldn’t be so harsh. I met with Ranferi Salguero yesterday. He’s gearing up to produce a feature this May. And, yes, he’s placed a posting on Craig’s List looking for actors. What makes Ranferi different is that he’s already shown he can deliver the goods. In 2007 he wrote and directed the excellent short film, “Roses and Graves.”

If you’ve not seen it, take a look:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YfvhUKLtxUQ

The film played the festival circuit. It secured Ranferi his IMDB listing. The script he’s currently planning to produce and direct is one he’s been working on for several years.

When he emailed me a copy, I was happy to give it a read. His script for “Roses and Graves” was simple, spare, and quite effective. I was hoping for more of the same. This script, “Embracing Karma,” is more layered and nuanced. I always have a hard time giving good feedback to a screenplay because they’re not written to be good. They’re written to facilitate the making of a good movie. In fact, if you can prove yourself as a good “reader” in Hollywood, you can make a nice, secure living. Good screenwriters are as common as free kittens with ringworm. But good script readers are hard to find. They’re the gatekeepers that novice writers have to prove themselves to, not producers. A screenplay’s not a novel. It’s more akin to a libretto, or a series of choreographic phrases. In short, it’s a template which a group of trained and talented individuals build into a fluid and coherent work.

I feel I understand screenwriting and film making well enough to see the movie waiting within Ranferi’s script. It’s interesting that Ranferi is also a sculptor (I believe he works in stone). It was either Michelangelo, or perhaps Irving Stone writing about Michelangelo, where the finished statue was described as having already existed within the block of stone before the artist came and knocked away all the extraneous material and succeeded in freeing the form within. The fact is, I’ve read hundreds of scripts, many of them are shooting scripts of films I love. And, as literature, all of them are awful. Well, with the exception of Dennis Potter–he managed, for some reason, to elevate screenwriting to a level of high literature (check out the script to “The Singing Detective”). I feel I have a good sense of seeing the movie within a script. Add to that the fact that I know Ranferi’s work, and I’m looking forward to seeing his first feature. He’s a serious, sensitive, and above all an honest artist.

If anyone sees postings from him asking for assistance, his sparse budget might not allow for much in the way of compensation, but be aware that he knows what he’s doing. He’s committed to creating work that he, and all those involved, can be proud of bringing to the screen.

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I had to take advantage of the sunny sky and semi-warmth. Sixty degrees is too damn frigid for me–hitting my moderate 12 miles per hour cycling speed does increase that wind-chill a bit–but I sucked it up and hit the Mission Trail.

(I should point out that there’s this guy whose blog I read–Durango Texas (he keeps me up to date with my previous home of Fort Worth, Texas)–and this dude swims in an outdoor pool just about every day–including today, when it was 33 degrees in Ft. Worth with at least half a foot of snow on the ground. I think he’s nuts. But, really, I shouldn’t talk. I still haven’t fixed my water heater. I guess, it’s all a matter of perspective, eh? Check him out at: http://durangotexas.blogspot.com/ )

I made it home in time to cook up a huge mess of carnitas, drenched in a sauce of mango nectar, lime juice, and pureed red anaheim chili peppers, mixed with chili pequin, dried anchos, annatto seeds, and sesame seeds all powdered in a coffee grinder I keep just for spices. I ladled it all into a big plastic portable container. Also, in another container, I put a huge amount of steamed jasmine rice.

This was my offering to the potluck component of the annual Martian Madri Gras Party at URBAN-15. This is when George and Catherine Cisneros invite their dance and drum ensemble members, their families, and other folks who are friends of URBAN-15. The idea is to get together and watch a live broadcast of the Carnaval parade from Sao Paulo, Brazil. URBAN-15 does a wide range of dance, music, film, laser, etc. performances, along with their educational outreach. But they are mostly known for Carnaval San Anto, their drum and dance performances along the lines of the Brazilian Carnaval Parades: this is how hundreds of thousands of people know them who attend the Fiesta events here in San Antonio; and this is how the tens of millions of people know them who have seen them perform for at least two presidential inaugural parades, the most recent being for Obama. So it should come as no surprise that the URBAN-15 dancers and drummers are keen to see what the most lavished and heavily financed dancers of this genera are doing. The “Martian” part is because…well, let me quote from the invitation: “When the Martians look down at Earth on Saturday, February 13th, they will see the entire Earth in elaborate celebration…preparing for Ash Wednesday / Lent. That is why we call it ‘The Martian Madri Gras.'”

Last year the party was down in the basement space. Tonight, it was up in the larger space which George and Catherine refer to as the Sanctuary, which, back when the building was a church, is precisely what the space was used for.

However, because Carnaval is giddy in its embracing of the more lascivious and base of human impulses, well, I wonder what the good people who once worshiped in this space would have thought if they were to have visited and seen the televised images of women who, for all practical purposes, are dancing nude atop huge, ornate, sumptuous floats–bloated, ambulatory Golden Calves? We may never know.

And, as regards those nekkid Brazilian babes (fem, him, or trans-gen), I find myself wondering what’s really going on in that country if the acme of femininity is a vivacious, young, healthy person who resembles a beautiful young man who has spent half a million dollars to look like a beautiful young woman who has spent a hundred thousand dollars to look like an air brushed Playboy centerfold? This is a freak show. But, what do I know. I think that Catherine Keener, a woman older than me (and I’m fucking old) is one of the sexiest things around. I guess I’ve just out-grown my appreciation of kitsch and camp.

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Feb. 17.

A strong day. I almost might say I was productive. I finally deposited a couple of checks which had been sitting around for weeks. Now that my previous bank has been swallowed up by a larger financial entity, I have much more convenient options. It used to be that the closest branch was about a twenty minute drive away. Now I just motor to that weird little bit of the east side which has oodles of charm. There’s a stretch of South Hackberry between Florida and Steves that has a funky, retro personality all it’s own.

I stopped by El Sol Bakery on S. Presa for a couple of empanadas. For a Mexican bakery they’re a bit pricey, but they push the healthy whole wheat fare. This isn’t really my thing, but it’s a nice family run place. And the food’s damn good.

Because I had a bit of a late start on things, this was my noon-time lunch. I headed to C4 to get some work done. I caught up on some paperwork, email, and had a nice phone conversation with Veronica.

My next stop was Havel Camera Repair. They came highly recommended from people who should know, like my friend Alston Cox, and my Luminaria Film Committee co-chair, Adam Rocha. I’d stopped by back on Monday to get a quote to reattach one of the strap anchors which had fallen off. I could hear the back fastener rattling around inside the body. The folks at Havel quoted what seemed a pretty high price, but then explained that the design of the Panasonic Lumix was such that when the case was cracked open, some of the tiny circuit boards also have to be delicately removed. I was cautioned not to use the camera while that piece of metal was rattling around inside, as it might cause a short. I hadn’t thought of that, but I had noticed that when peering into the little raw wound, that tiny exposed hole, I could see coppery metal circuitry leads. I assume that the camera is still under warranty, but I’ve been down that road. It’s just not worth the aggravation to ship a camera off to the manufacturer and not know when you’ll see it again. Havel will get it back to me in at least five days. Send it off to Panasonic, I’ll be lucky to see it in six weeks.

I’d scheduled by camera drop-off in the West Basse region because I was meeting Seme Jatib for, as she said, a cafecito. I’d suggested the Olmos Perk, as it was in her neighborhood, and close to Havel’s.

Seme has returned from a two week gig running a modern dance workshop in the Ecuadorian city of Guayaquil. I only wish my life could be so exotic. I was hoping she’d tell me all about the work she’d done with the kids in Ecuador, but the conversation veered into that realm of commiseration in which people who work in the arts in San Antonio so often find themselves. I’d made some hints about this to Seme when we’d first met. I’m talking about how poorly we in San Antonio treat our artists. My fear was that Seme would be turned off by this backwater little town. I could go so far as to say the San Antonio is indicative of how little regard this entire country has for the arts. We’re so provincial in this country. We believe the puffed-up propaganda that USA is the best. And we sneer at other countries. Especially Mexico. But anyone who’s spent time in Mexico knows that the arts enjoy a much higher degree of respect and importance. There is not the same problems in finding audiences there.

Here in San Antonio, those people involved in the arts–not just the artists themselves, but those involved in education as well as the administrative side of art and cultural institutions–have taken as gospel that there is no money in the arts. And so, artists have become charity cases. They are expected to provide their services for free, or, if they’re lucky, small honoraria.

The fact is, the economics of this situation is pretty fucked up. San Antonio used to be a solid blue collar city, with several factories providing jobs. Not so, these days. We’re now chiefly a service-related economy (much like the rest of America…a country which no longer seems to make anything). Service? Mostly these services are connected to tourism. And why do people come to San Antonio? For the culture. And every time we allow some fucking Rain Forest Cafe to open up shop on the San Antonio River Walk, we loose that distinctive local flavor. Every time we allow the Clear Channels and the Time Warner Cable companies to muscle into the local information and entertainment markets, crushing the local media, we loose more of what makes this city appealing for these tourists. And when the city of San Antonio scrambles to bring the latest abortion created by Andrew Lloyd Webber to grace the stages of our premier venues, but does nothing to facilitate the staging of original local productions, well, all is lost. No one comes to San Antonio to see Andrew Lloyd Webber (well, at least I hope not–personally I hope no one goes to NYC to see that shit).

Now I understand that funding is tight. And there are only so many warm bodies in this city who can be enticed to buy tickets. But, let’s get back to the basics. Let’s remember that the artist, those creative folks–writers, actors, musicians, dancers, poets, painters, filmmakers, sculptors, et al.–they are the reason people put their asses in those seats. Not the administrators, nor the marketers; not the PR flacks, event staff, reviewers, critics, social media finaglers, or even word-of-mouth. Nope. All those people are antecedent to the work, the reality created by the artists, the performers, or, as George Cisneros often simplifies it–the makers.

Seme and I came to an agreement. We both often follow our hearts and put enormous amounts of our time into creative work for little return. For instance, when we collaborated on our piece for the January W-I-P, we had our own agendas. Seme wanted to reach out to the dance community in San Antonio, her new home. What I got from the piece was the chance to work with a serious artist, whose work, vision, and integrity I found positively inspiring. And I like people who inspire me.

I had not known that the W-I-P paid an honorarium. They do. Not much, but something. Seme shared the stipend with me. (I should point out that W-I-P is a collaboration between Jump-Start and the San Antonio Dance Umbrella, and I’m not sure who pushed for this honorarium. However, Jump-Start, for whom I provided a video which screened at the annual performance party, contacted me for a mailing address so that they could send me a complementary ticket for a Jump-Start show. This seems small. But it’s a crucial gesture. It’s what, as Seme and I were talking about, comes down to a simple matter of respect.

We, here in San Antonio, need to remember that these arts events wouldn’t happen without the artists. I think it’s time that every local arts and cultural organization needs to reexamine their mission statement.

I know there has been some sniping and bickering concerning Luminaria in San Antonio. It’s become overly politicized. I mean, shit, even David Rubin, curator of contemporary art at SAMA, recently responded to a FaceBook call for audiences for Luminaria by making a statement that he’d rather not partake of the evening. Honestly, I don’t know what he meant. Surly he’s not boycotting the event, right? I mean I loved the curatorial job he did back when with the show on Time at Blue Star. And I’m certainly going to attend his Psychedelic show he’s putting together at SAMA. Perhaps I misunderstood his FaceBook comment.

Anyway, I brought up Luminaria because there is a honorarium of $200 (or is it $250?) for accepted artists. This is significant for individuals artists…not so much for ensembles or group collaborations. But, again, this is an honorarium. It’s about respecting the artistic process and the makers.

W-I-P and Luminaria might be scraping by with the most minor of real and material respect and regard for the artists, but let’s applaud them for adhering to a tangible baseline. And from here we can build up.

Maybe one day we, in this country, will learn how to reward our artists for the work they do so well, and stop forcing them to do those things which it is not in their nature to do–you know, marketing, public relations, building audiences. Because, you know, there’s some wonderful professional folks right here in town who do great work along those lines.

But I digress.

It was great to see Seme after two weeks! We made some basic plans for our next collaboration. It’ll be pretty good. Yep. Because we both agreed that our piece back in January kicked major ass. We’re on the same page there.

After meeting with Seme I needed attend a Luminaria steering committee meeting. I had about half an hour of down time, so I drove home. I was rewarded by finding my latest B&H purchases sitting on my front porch.

This desire to begin playing around with VJ software has made me cognizant of these USB MIDI devices. I’d ordered a couple of cheap pieces of hardware. The software I’m working with lends itself to two basic devices. A keyboard for selecting a video clip. And a mix board to define which clip is being viewed.

First off, I should say what VJ software I’m working with. It’s called GrandVJ, created by a company called ArKaos. The interface is geared towards two pieces of hardware–keyboard and mixer. I found that Korg made small devices to fit the bill. However, as I looked at the comments for these things on Amazon, I decided that the mixer (the Korg Nano Kontroler) is great, but the Korg keyboard sucks. And so I took the suggestion from the comment-crowd and spent an extra 15 or so bucks for the AKAI LPK25.

I wasn’t able to play with my new toys. I had to rush to a meeting.

Things went pretty well. It looks like Luminaria is striding forward smoothly and intelligently. The financial report was encouraging. It seems that a couple of the major corporate donations what were unconfirmed have given us the green light. This is fucking great! The problem is, they’ll take their time in making the funds available. Not quite so good. We have vendors who don’t like to wait.

This isn’t my problem. So, I’ll cluck my tongue and head out the back door,

I made it to C4 around 6:30. A jazz band was practicing there–think playfully hip Sinatra. I was back in my corner at my desk digging the music. I began to play around with my new toys. The Akai keyboard worked perfectly. But the Korg Nano Kontrol device needed software downloaded. I was expected to program its parameters. Well, it took me about an hour to figure out all that programing stuff. It’s okay, but really it should be better. Eventually I headed out. I wanted to plug all this stuff (hardware and software) into my computer and my projector at home and iron out the kinks.

I had a lot of fun.

And after an hour or two, I decided to take a break. I kept the AKAI USB keyboard plugged in and opened GarageBand.

Yeah. This is damn cool–playing, badly, along with music off Pandora.com.

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Feb. 16.

There’s this meme that’s been floating around our fair town for a few years (at least). I suspect if I were to ask around some I could discover who started it, but the mystery is rather pleasant. If you’re lived here, you’ve seen the bumper stickers. “Keep San Antonio Lame.” This is our response to the slogan for that city to the north: “Keep Austin Weird.” Fort Worth has their own, in the “Keep Fort Worth Funky” campaign.

Now I’ve seem two basic reactions in San Antonio to this heady affirmation of lameness. One is that this is essentially ironical–a playful, admonishing finger which challenges us, San Antonians, to fucking get it together, already! And I can respect that position. Hell, yeah, we need to stop sucking so much. However, the more nuanced interpretation is sweeter. And by that I mean a less accusatory delivery. We really are expected to keep on being lame. You see, there are some wonderful things going on in this town, but we need to keep it on the down-low, you know, under wraps, because if people, and by that I mean outsiders, realized what a great place this is, we’ll turn into Austin. And for those who live out of state, the bastardization of Austin, Texas is the greatest cautionary tale told across this state, whether in smoky bars, around campfires, or pediatric waiting rooms. “What the fuck happened to Austin? It’s unlivable. I used to love going to 6th Street and Hippy Hollow. But now you gotta fight the assholes!”

But I digress. I’m writing about San Antonio. The lameness keeps us small. The community is small–well, the community I belong to: the art and cultural scene. My father ran a nationally respected antiquarian bookstore in Dallas for four decades. He belonged to a small community. And, how did he put it once? “Not a sparrow falls in bookdom that we all don’t hear it hit the ground.” And so one would expect that the San Antonio art and cultural community would be aware of the Monday morning press conference to promote the 2010 Luminaria Arts Night in San Antonio. Okay, last I looked, there were around a thousand Luminaria 2010 artists (I’m talking folks involved in music, dance, fine arts, literature, film/video, and theater). So, I’m wondering why, when I ambled over to the entrance arch to HemisFair Park in downtown San Antonio for this press conference, all I saw were fellow Luminaria steering committee members, people from the CE Group (the marketing firm helping to promote the event), the press, and folks from the city bureaucracies associated with Luminaria (Downtown Operations, the mayor’s office, the Office of Cultural Affairs, etc.). Sure, there were about twenty people who were brought in to perform for the TV news crews (a group of musicians, folkloric dancers, and some actors from a local theater company). But, other than that, how many artist who are involved with Luminaria decided to show up? Well, some of the folks sitting on various committees are also Luminaria artists, so they were already there. But, other than that? I saw one. And he was interviewed by at least two of the TV stations who showed up. Is this because we’re lame?

The fact is, I only knew to show up because I was at an event Saturday night and encountered one of the Luminaria co-chairs. As I was leaving I shouted out: “There’s a press conference Monday, right?” “Yep. Nine am.” And so, come Monday morning (no reminder email) I drove to C4 Workspace to have a cup of coffee before walking downtown. I vaguely recalled that the press conference was to be held under the HemisFair entrance arch. I would have enjoyed confirmation from an email, but that didn’t happen. You might think that the information about something as important as a press conference involving the mayor would be plastered all over the Luminaria website or even the Luminaria FaceBook page. Nope. Nada, So, where is this lameness coming from? It’s coming from EVERYWHERE! Careful…that warm breath you feel? Don’t move too quickly. I’m pretty sure it’s there, breathing on your neck. That San Antonio lameness. It’s you and me and it’s everyone and it’s everywhere. Check it out. There were maybe a hundred individuals who showed up at the Luminaria Artist meeting back on Feb. 9th–they were artists as well as individuals representing dance troupes, theater companies, and so on. They were all told about the press conference, and all were invited to attend.

Maybe they’re all as bad at taking notes as myself. That seems a stretch, though. Maybe they were busy? But wait, many of those Luminaria artists teach. And as today was Presidents Day, I do believe they had an opening in their schedules.

Actually, it was a very pleasant press conference. Kudos to the CE Group and all who helped make this happen. Here are a couple of photos. Our boyish and wonderfully articular mayor, and a lovely folkloric dancer.

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I wasn’t aware just how much I hate Valentines Day. But this year it really sucked. Maybe the problem was it was on the weekend. People often call me up on the weekend because, even though I’m often free on the weekdays, other people aren’t. But people involved in relationships don’t often socialize beyond their significance others on this day of love. I mean, well, really, the bottom line if you don’t want to give anyone the wrong impression–you know what I mean–you just don’t contact other people on St. Valentine’s Day.

My phone records at quite instructive. Eleven incoming calls on Saturday. Seven in-coming calls on Monday. People are always needing this or that from me, and I’m generally okay with that. But, Sunday? Radio silence.

St. Valentines Day…it needs to be repealed.

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Feb. 20.

I’ve got the basics of my VJ setup pulled together. Today my copy of GrandVJ arrived. This is the software I’ve settled on. I’ve been playing around with it for about three weeks in a free demo version. Earlier in the week my little AKAI LPK25 micro keyboard arrived. This is used as a switched to select video clips or effects. It’s a USB MIDI device which is also pretty groovy to run through GarageBand and pretend I’m some preposterous prog rock blowhard. Also, on the same day, my Korg Nano Kontrol USB MIDI mixer arrived. This allows me to select from two channels and eight layers of video sources, allowing for cross fades and fast manipulation of levels of opacity of individual outputs. I have my NEC 3000 lumen projector. And, well, a bunch of stuff which I already own. I’m set.

At the moment I’m running my little white plastic MacBook with the ArKaos GrandVJ in the 1.2 Beta version (it supports the Korg). I’m feeding my external monitor cable into my projector; the projector’s VGA out-put goes into my ancient and bulky Gateway monitor. My cheapo USB hub is working overtime. Off of it I’m running the keyboard, the mixer, and my wireless mouse. The other USB line into my laptop is being used by a one terabyte external drive. The mini audio out from my laptop goes straight to a pair of old Labtec computer speakers (which came with, I believe, my very first computer)–they’re blasting out music from the browser window playing semi-random music off Pandora via my wifi network. And, finally, my dependable Panasonic DVX camcorder is recording a table, flickering with candles, and its live video feed, coming into my MacBook via the FireWire port (I believe my model was the last MacBook to be shipped with FireWire)–GrandVJ is happy to allow this live video feed to be shunted into any of these video source layers (I can also activate my computer’s web cam as another live video source choice).

I love my little computer. It’s happy (so far) chugging along with all this happing within its innards. The only ports I’m not using are the hardwire ethernet input and the mini audio input–hey, that’s what I could do–plug in a microphone…ah, but all my audio equipment’s at C4. But, really, this is enough for, you know, dicking around.

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I got a call early this afternoon from Havel. Havel? Now I know why everyone in town sings their praise. I got my camera back in two days. And it’s doing just fine. Thanks for asking.

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I found myself floundering about a bit today, trying to make sense of a couple of upcoming events I’m involved in. Luminaria and the Josiah Youth Media Festival. Really, I hate promoting events –even ones which I care about. I tell people, quite explicitly, that I’m not suited for this sort of work. People–yeah, they just don’t fucking listen. (Really, this is getting out of hand. I mean, there are people who think I’m simply tremendous, if for no other reason than I believe it’s important to listen to people. I was raised that when you’re listening to someone, you give him or her your undivided attention. Sure, this person might be an asshole, but when you’re listening, your job is to listen. Don’t starting fucking around with that smart phone. Don’t let your eyes drift over to that pretty shiny object in the background. Jeeze, what’s happened to people?)

Mostly I was looking forward to meeting with Deborah. We’re working on a collaborative project, and as for all that bullshit that comes falling down on some projects, it’s never stressful or irritating with Deborah. Why the hell can’t everyone be as reasonable as the both of us are with one another?

We met up at the location where we’ll be shooting next week. It’s an exterior night shoot. And even though we’ll be bringing in our own lights, we wanted to check out the place once the sun had set. The fact is, Deborah had done a photo shoot at this location maybe three years back. I was there to shoot some video. I was using a small DC/AC car inverter Carlos had loaned me. So, we have something of an understanding of the place. And this time around we have an artist friend who lives in a house about 150 feet away. That’s no problem with some extension cords (however, I’ve got to crunch the numbers, you know, how much wattage will we need for lights, because if it’s over the amperage of the line we’ll be using, we’ll need to make sure to divide between two breakers).

I was hoping that we’d be able to see the Blue Star silos in the background, but it looks like they’ll be lost in the dark distance. The eye can see them fine. But the camera? Not so well. But that’s okay. There’s plenty of wonderful things to illuminate.

Deborah mentioned she was hungry. I said that Cafe Cinema was happening over at the Radius, and there should be some food there. But she said she was in the mood for salad or soup or something wholesome. I was fine with that. She mentioned Green Cafe or Big Kahuna. Green Cafe is the local vegan restaurant. The food is wonderful. It’s not crazy expensive, but still a bit rich for me.

I wanted to try Big Kahuna. Deborah had been there before, and she had described it vaguely as “this sort of Asian place with healthy food and really nice people.”

Big Kahuna is at 741 W. Ashby Place, just across from the San Pedro Playhouse. The name is a carry-over from a previous restaurant. The cuisine is, for the most part, Vietnamese. The menu is small. And when our host recognized Deborah (everyone of cultural or artistic importance in San Antonio knows her), he began pushing off menu items.

If you ever visit this place, and the waiter or the owner recommends something, jump on it.

Great food, great service, wonderful ambiance. Bottom line, it’s inexpensive, tasty, wholesome, honest food.

The place has a nice vibe. They have had workshops and events on meditation, yoga, gardening, and they have film screenings.

http://bigkahunasa.com/

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The other day I was watching on, of all things, YouTube, a feature-length movie, “Synth Britannia.” This is a documentary about the rise of New Wave synth bands in England during the tail end of the 70s and the into the 80s.

Most of this stuff I never got too deep into. Mostly Euro Disco crap that dominated the MTV realm. However, it’s a well-structured historical documentary The reason I kept watching was that they gave a bit of time to some of the more interesting artists and groups using synthesizers. Wendy/Walter Carlos, Chris and Cozy (of Throbbing Gristle fame), Cabaret Voltaire, Gary Newman (who’s tragically under-rated), and John Foxx (who’s tragically unknown). I quite enjoyed the film, even though it’s mostly aimed at those folks who feel that Yazoo is the shit (and that ain’t me).