Thursday.

These overcast days just keep on coming. The weather sites show me very little sunshine in the next week. And when’s it’s not been raining these last several days, it’s been insanely humid. Because I have a washing machine but no drier, I usually wait for a sunny day so I can hang up my laundry on the line. Yesterday I ran a load and just hung everything up inside on a few c-stands.

Today is was just endless showers. It made my errands up to the North Side a bit of a chore. Tomorrow I’m working a gig with Slab Cinema at the University of the Incarnate Word. This is the new location of the annual Alamo Heights Night. This is kind of a big block party for this tony town–Alamo Heights is it’s own municipality, a little city engulfed by San Antonio–and I’d always assumed that Alamo Heights Night was part of the eleven day seemingly endless party which is Fiesta here in San Antonio. But, I got on the Fiesta website, and I see no mention of this event. Strange. I’ve never been to Alamo Heights Night, but I’ve heard about it for the eight or nine years I’ve lived here. It’s a pretty big thing. Maybe, as I speculated on my FaceBook page, “it’s a way for those snooty 09ers to thumb their noses at the Fiesta rabble, while still enjoying funnel cakes and parades of lap dogs in tiaras.” [An 09er is one who lives in the Alamo Heights zip code–it’s similar to what my father referred to as the “ought five” region of Dallas, which is the zip code common to both Highland Park and University Park, upper-class enclaves surrounded by the city of Dallas,] Don’t get me wrong, I’ve nothing but high appreciation of fried dough. And as for dogs in cute costumes…well, whereas I’d not like to see such sights every day, it’s a wonderful treat I whole-heartedly enjoy, in moderation.

My hazardous trek through the deluge this afternoon was prompted by a call from Angela of Slab Cinema. It seems that Grande Communications was loaning us a couple of USB 4G WiMax dongles (okay, I’m not really sure if I’m using the word “dongle” correctly, but I do enjoy using it). The Grande offices are way up I-35, around the Thousand Oaks exit. That’s outside of the 410 Loop, and, as I’ve said many a time, in my mental map of the region, this is where those the sea monsters are frisking about, casting baleful glances at the galleons foolish enough to drift too far from established trade routes. I also stopped off at an office supply store to pick up a sleeve of DVDs for an out-of-town client who wants his deliverables on 8 DVDs next week. Yes, there are reasons to travel into that monster zone, but I try and avoid it as often as I can.

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As I was trying to get a handle on my day, I decided to pick up three tasty breakfast tacos and some mediocre coffee from Eddie’s Taco House drive thru lane. As I enjoyed my breakfast back home, I found myself rescheduling my day to best accommodate two of the paying gigs with which I’m currently involved.

I’d hoped to send some books off to auction. But, on closer inspection, they didn’t seem so remarkable. I think I’ll wait for the book auction which specializes in Texana items. I have some excellent stuff for that auction.

So, after coffee and tacos, and a plan to concentrate on my out-of-town client and the Alamo Heights Night gig, I took a shower, ready to begin my day.

As I was getting out of the shower, I saw a car idling in front of my house. All cars look alike to me. Well, let me rephrase that. I can’t tell one car from another, but I can usually recognize a very expensive car, though I can’t always name it. This was a rich person’s car. As I watched, the passenger window was electrically lowered. I saw someone in the passenger seat, I think it was a woman, aim a digital camera toward my place. What fucking amateurs! A 65 thousand dollar car, and a 125 dollar camera. Anyway, the camera wasn’t pointed at my house, or Marlys and Michael’s house. It was pointed at my driveway. More to the point, at my truck. It looked like that cheap camera was snapping my truck’s license plate. Call me paranoid, but I think I’m being stalked.

It could be my land lady’s property manager. She drives expensive cars. But that makes no sense.

I’m thinking it’s someone with the King William Fair. I made some snarky comments about my displeasure concerning how they charge people to enter into a neighborhood, which is a public space. Now, I reviewed what I had written, and I found myself doing what I do every so often. Edited, toned things down. I ameliorated my rant. The truth is, I have been involved in at least half a dozen large scale events in this town. Festivals, parades, film events, etc. And there is something painful when people begin to attack the event you’re working on–it feels so very personal. Most people who have attacked me (in blogs or print) because of the events I’ve worked for, seem to make statements that aren’t really true–you know, not completely informed. I know how fucking hard it is to make a large event happen in this city. And I’ve come to realize that I can only shit on someone or something if I have a clear understanding of what I’m criticizing. I recall a Twitter announcement from Kat Swift (I have a great deal of respect for the woman–hell, I voted for her). During Luminaria, she twittered: “re bosse: he got busted for having fire on stage w/o permit twas funny – fire marshall’s eyes lit up.” I only wish I could have been such a snarling scofflaw badass. But, sadly, nothing in that posting was true. (This isn’t to say that Ms. Swift’s comment won’t find itself embedded in my CV–’cause I do wanna be a badass!) But, look, we can’t always assume that those narratives we want to happen, are actually going down in accordance with our desires.

As this woman was getting a focus with her cheapo camera from the shotgun seat of a swanky car, I unpacked my biggest pair of binoculars, and watched the action from my kitchen window. As I was fresh from the shower, I was naked. Maybe I should have stepped out on my porch, au naturale, holding those huge astronomical binoculars to my face, as I stared at the car idling twenty feet away.

http://i60.photobucket.com/albums/h7/erikbosse/DSCN2608.jpg

But I just don’t have it in me. So I watched the car drive away, and I got dressed.

My future financial health’s not looking too good. Uncle Sam wants chingos of dosh–I’m thinking extension, ’cause I’m having a chore just keeping myself in cheap tacos and digital video tape. I guess what I really need is a job. But there are so few things I’m qualified to do.

I’ve been digging through stuff that I might be able to sell. I’m thinking of sending some books off to the auction house that occasionally employs me. There is one homely looking book I’ve never bothered to research. It’s an ex-library book with a rubber stamp on both front and rear pastedowns. True, the university library of the stamps no longer exists, but I have such an aversion to selling ex-library books that I just kept putting it aside. So, today, for some reason, I decided to do a bit of research. I don’t have much in the way of bibliographies and general reference books anymore, so I was mainly looking at a few online sites. I could only see mention of on-demand reprint copies. Recalling that I still had my password to Americana Exchange, I looked through their database. I could see no auction records. Just a listing from three rare book dealers’ catalogues: 1938, 1959, and 1963. No auction records at all. There’s another auction database I should check. But it could well be that no copy of this first edition has come up for sale in decades. Given the fact that it’s a Texas Ranger item, it should get a fair amount of auction action.

The book is Mustang Gray; a Romance, by Jeremiah Clemens, Philadelphia, 1858. This appears to be the first and only edition. From Wright: “A fictionalized account of the exploits of the famed Mabry Gray, who served in the Texas Army, fought at San Jacinto, raided Mexican ranches with other ‘cowboys,’ and commanded the ‘Mustanger’ company in the War with Mexico.”

Check out the Mabry Gray article on the Handbook of Texas Online:

http://www.tshaonline.org/handbook/online/articles/GG/fgr24.html

I’m hoping that Mustang Gray, plus about 4 nineteenth century surgery books, a signed Bill Burroughs, and a leather bound Félicien Rops art book will generate the funds needed to sate the IRS appetite when my extension period abruptly comes to an end, October sometime.

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There’s a feature film script I have had in the works for maybe a year and a half. The working title is “Tunnels Under the Tower.” I must admit that most of my notes are scattered through three or four composition notebooks somewhere in the clutter of my home. I know I was also generating scene information onto 3×5 cards. These cards are what I really want to track down.

The story has been resurfacing in my head lately. A few weeks back I was asked by Nikki Young to give feedback on the kids in her young actors’ class. Two very accomplished girls were doing a scene from “Tunnels Under the Tower,” which I had given to Nikki over a year ago when she asked for any monologues or dialogues I might have for her to offer her students. The scene that the girls read was initially written for a boy and a girl, but it worked well enough regardless of gender.

Today, while biking along the Mission Trail, I took a rest on one of Carlos Cortez’s faux bois benches near Mission Espada. There’s a big pecan tree on a rise of ground about a hundred yards to the west. One of the scenes in the film will take place with the leaves of that tree dipping down and forming a canopy to frame the shot looking across the river as the two young protagonists walk along, speaking those same lines that Nikki’s girls had performed.

“Tunnels Under the Tower” is a film I’ve sketched out pretty tightly in my head. As I was taking a break on that bench this afternoon, I talked my way through all the chief scenes, characters, and character motivations, conflicts, and agendas. I was happy to learn I had retained almost everything. I just need to get back to working on the script.

I initially came up with the most basic kernel of a story. A dying matriarch is trying to get her son to reunite her with her former best friend–a last chance to say goodbye. As I began to flesh things out, I found myself casting most of the roles with some of my favorite local actors (some who know me, a few who don’t)–often going so far as to use their names for the characters (I plan to make changes in a later draft). I also made mental notes of most of the locations–pretty much all downtown, south-side, and west-side. The places where I spend most of my time. I’d always planned to direct and shoot this thing myself. And because I want to create something simple and do-able, my plan is to limit the film to 50 scenes, each averaging a page and a half. This translates into 50 one and a half minute scenes, for a total run-time of 75 minutes, and this is long enough for a feature. Furthermore, none of these scenes will have more than five camera set-ups. And finally, no more than ten locations. The number of characters is something I don’t want to aggressively trim down. I believe there will be 20 speaking characters.

My biggest concern about this, as yet unfinished, script, is that I want to get it into a polished draft, and start shooting before Gaby Walker (one of the most amazing actresses I’ve ever worked with) is too old to be believable as my young co-protagonist. Little Gaby’s growing up so fast.

Currently I’m inclined to shoot the movie in HD on a DSLR camera. I’m intrigued with the thought of using my Lumix GH-1, but if money ever comes my way again, I’m thinking to up-grade to the Canon 7D. Audio acquired separately with a solid state device.

Time to get back to writing.

Friday

My landlady finally sent a lawn service to harvest the bountiful crop of dandelions and stinging nettles which had reached a height so that a quorum of jockeys could have met, running their entire meeting standing, and still remain unnoticed by the neighborhood. It took a crew of two just under four hours to finish–however, they were spending several protracted breaks fraternizing with the lawn crew spiffing up the house next door.

At least my place won’t look as shabby as it did last year for the King William Parade, which comes down my street. It’s coming up in two weeks. For those reading my blog who aren’t out-of-towners, shut-ins, or incarnated felons conscientious enough to gain internet privileges, please drop by. Lurkers, stalkers, and my three or four enemies are all welcomed to come watch the parade with me. It begins, I believe, at ten am on Saturday, April, 24. My place is 716 E. Guenther, the humble little grey house with three apartments. I’m the door that faces the street. Parking will be a bitch. They close off the entire parade route. You might be able to find a place to park in the Brackenridge High School lot, the Blue Star art complex, or, more likely, in the La Vaca neighborhood, south of S. Alamo, and east of S. Presa.

You bring the breakfast tacos, and I’ll try and keep the coffee flowing.

Personally, I’m no fan of parades. But I always watch the King William Parade. Sure, I have no choice, as it comes down my street. There’s more, you see. I love the King William Parade because it’s a neighborhood event. There’s the marching band from Brackenridge High School, which is just three blocks away from me. Many of the local businesses and art and cultural organizations take part. It’s also one of the closest things to a gay pride parade during the whole San Antonio Fiesta fortnight (well, I think it’s just an eleven day event, but it feels like fucking forever!). The queer quotient of the King William Parade is fairly high (well, for San Antonio); but if also you add those who embrace their gender confusion this one time a year, well, we have quite a few ungainly and hairy men crammed into dresses who have clearly not embraced this lifestyle, as their not so feminine and very sensible footwear attests.

If you’ve never been to the King William Parade, come on down. It’s a blast. The King William Fair, however, is a bit much. If you like drinking over-priced beers, munching on turkey legs, seeing a bunch of crappy “arts” and craft, and being shoe-horned into a densely packed crowd, well, by all means, check it out. Personally, I usually amble down and check out the fair for an hour at the most. Take some pictures. And make my escape. I can’t recall what the entrance fee is (and I am appalled that they charge to entered a neighborhood–this can’t be legal, can it?), but because the locals receive a couple of free passes in the mail prior to the event, this it suppose to make us happy? Well, perhaps it does. Eh, whatever…. The Fair’s so-so. The Parade rocks!

In fact, this afternoon the kids with the Brackenridge High School Marching Band took to the neighborhood. They were marching, playing their instruments, and fucking up the traffic. I loved it! I scrambled to find my camera and got out on the porch when they were half-way past. I took a few photos.

I wish they’d do this all the time. Because, dammit, that’s community involvement. I also love that the Brackenridge PE classes have the kids running through the neighborhood. Every school should find reasons to go out into their neighborhoods, and every neighborhood should find reasons to go into their schools.

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My Luminaria check arrived on Thursday. So today (Friday) I headed over to Jump-Start Performance Company to present a check to ST Shimi. My Luminaria film not only featured the wonderful dancing of Shimi, but she also performed a dance on stage during Luminaria as my film of her was projected in the background. Of course she should get half of my honorarium check. (Probably she deserves more than half, but I, too, have bills to pay). It was quite a thrill to be able to pay Shimi. The fact is, when I work in collaboration with other artists, I reach out to people with whom I’ve already forged one sort of relation or another. More often that not, we’ve already entered into a situation of an ongoing exchange of services and such. My work with Carlos and Pete, and Deborah and Seme come to mind. But when I reached out to Shimi, we had no prior work experience. I was drawn by her beauty, intelligence, physical strength, and incredible stills and accomplishments in arial dance, belly dance, and hoop dancing. She’s quite an extraordinary force. I was actually glad that she asked, during our first meeting, if there was a budget in the project I had in mind. I’ve become so exhausted being involved in all these creative projects where no one gets paid, and it seems that so many creative individuals in this town are so often exploited.

At the initial meeting I had to admit that there was no pay. At that time I wasn’t thinking of making this project with Shimi into my Luminaria project. My proposed project was fairly generic. What I had initially wanted from Shimi was to shoot something which could be used as a work sample for a larger public arts project I still hope to make a reality.

But as Luminaria approached, and as I realized that the idea I had in mind seemed a bit overly ambitious, I decided to push for this wonderful short piece I had shot in the winter of 2009 of Shimi, on the San Antonio River. All he sudden it seemed a no-brainer. And when Shimi let me know that she was available to be onstage to hoop-dance as the film played, I was so thankful. And the performance on Luminaria night, as short as it was, was magical.

What I’m getting at is that I was thrilled to be able to honor all the hard work Shimi provided for this piece with some real compensation. True, it’s not a lot, but it’s something. And, dammit, we all need to look after one another in this town.

And I want to state again, in this blog, that Jump-Start Performance Company (where ST Shimi works as Artistic Director for Company Programing) never leaves their artists sucking air. Earlier this year two works of mine were shown in their performance space. I received a cash honorarium from one, and a comp performance ticket for another. Sometimes the respect you’re given for the work you do might seem small, but take a moment to consider the arrangement. Is your work being given any respect? If not, walk away. It’s time, especially in this city, that the artist class begin to boycott situations where there is no compensation or other tangible form of appreciation. This is why I have appreciation of Luminaria and Jump-Start.

Speaking of ST Shimi, it looks like our film will be screened his coming Thursday at Main Plaza as a bit of introductory entertainment before the Pedro Infanta film. Sadly, Shimi is working elsewhere that night (she’s quite in demand). But please come out and see the ST Shimi and Erik Bosse short film. And come because there’s a Pedro Infante film!

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Saturday.

A former co-worker from a former life of mine posted a photo on FaceBook. It was of an old dentist chair which he had been refurbishing as, I assume, some sort of project. Some of the responses from his friends pondered why he’d have something like that in his house–how could his wife put up with this weirdness? In an attempt to make his chair seem not so outre, I took photo of my medical examination table–with the stirrups raised to full mast, it was in more of a gynecological exam table mode. I placed a link to my picture in the comment section below his dentist chair picture.

My sister, who also worked with Steve, saw my photo and placed it on her FaceBook page. Quite a few people jumped aboard, making comments about the creepiness of having a medical exam table in ones living room. Now I won’t argue that point. They’re right. This is one of the reasons I jumped when a friend offered it to me. But my experience is that most people who see it are not so disturbed as bemused. In fact, most want to use it as a film prop or an element for a photo shoot. I’m more than willing to loan it out, but it’s insanely heavy. (Pete and I moved it to C4 to use in the 48 Hour Hour Film Experience movie, Voodoo Daddy, and it almost killed us moving it back and forth.)

My favorite story about the table was when Russ and his wife at the time, Lisa, stopped by to visit. I took a seat on the sofa. Russ sat in my rocking chair, and without so much as a beat, Lisa hopped up on the table and curled up on it like it were a daybed, and she never broke rhythm in our conversation which had begun on the walk up to my porch and continued inside. I was quite impressed. But then again, she’s an artist, and they are a great tribe to belong to.

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A big wet wind came in from the Matamoros. When I took my bike onto the Mission Trail around five-thirty this afternoon it had climbed to the upper 70s, but with the gusty wind and the general moistness, it felt, at times, rather chilly.

The problem with this shift in weather is that I have two events coming up this week which happen outside. The Pedro Infante outdoor screening Thursday at Main Plaza might be placed in jeopardy.

But worse is the Alamo Heights Night on Friday. This is a paying gig. I need to find out what happens if the event is rained out. Do I still get paid? I’m thinking I don’t.

My recent fairy godmother, a certain well-paying auction house in Dallas, hasn’t yet contacted me to help out on their next rare books sale. I haven’t yet given up hope. But my finances are dwindling fast. I was planning to set my bookcases back up (I stowed them away along with most of my books some months back for a film shoot in my house)…but I might just embrace a big purge, and begin totting all my books and CDs to various local resale outlets in a bid to stave off the creditors.

I try not to dwell too often on how few marketable skills I possess. Any trained HR department head could make quick work of my resume and out me as a classic slacker layabout.

“Where do you see yourself in five years?”

“In a hammock beneath a ramada in front of a three room adobe shack in the Chihuahua desert as a trio of young naked women provide me with carne guisada tacos, las cervezas de Bohemia, and Licenciados cigars.”

“Mr. Bosse, I’m asking where you see yourself in five years in this company?”

“Oh, pardon me. I was anticipating that you’d have a branch office in Hidalgo del Parral by 2015. You might want to look into it. They’ve quite a dynamic economy.”

“I believe this interview is at an end.”

And so it goes.

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.