Beat It

Author/Activist/Musician/Philosopher Steve Wishnia is putting it out. It has been a pleasure to know of the work of this indie/underground legend, and now I Wishnia to share this pleasuring with you!

Some describe Wishnia as a voice of reason; others as an advocate for progressive causes; others as a journalist for alternet  (http://www.alternet.org/authors/steven-wishnia)...and venues ranging from High Times to Junior Scholastic! Here is an opportunity to view a-new the wonder that Wishnia via his latest work of fiction.

Steve Wishnia’s When the Drumming Stops is noteworthy. Literally. It is about how music envelops us in our daily lives, from children working the rhythm of jump rope to the movements and sounds of street dancers to notes that mark the quotidian passage of days, floating from radios, windows, and nightclubs.

Wishnia captures New York now and then, and shows how a man, Underend Vicodini, and a town, New York City, change over the course of time.

This is a story that is of a place and era, yet transcends that to describe the human condition.

When the Drumming Stops is a valentine to music. If you love sound, you should employ another sense, your eyes, to make sense of how musicians create. It comes from the heart. And the heart is another major player in this novel. Besides the love story of a man and music, a rock chick and her instrument, this is a cry for community, kindness, and understanding for -- and of -- one another.

El Chante: Casa de Cultura

It is so good to be back with you all at Pimp That Muse! I missed you every moment that I was away. Anyway, my P.O. and I had a good, long, corazon de la corazon, and I think it's fair to say that it is going to be smooth sailing from here on out. (If a certain someone is reading this, I promise, to be good... I mean it this time....)

Anyway.

During my...vacation, I came upon this hot spot. Here is an institution worth giving a shout out to: El Chante: Casa de Cultura. 

If you've ever pictured the perfect DIY cultural center -- it's gonna look a lot like this. A spacious layout in a two-story historical house, the artwork is accentuated by hot-colored walls, con paint, ink, and attitude. It is run by a fantastic, hot, smart, sassy lady, who acts as manager and inspirational spirit of all that is good and lovely and kind...in a kick-ass sorta way. (And yeah, so it does sound like I'm kinda smitten, WTF? Am I right? Yeah, I'm right!)

And get this: El Chante: Casa de Cultura is having not one, but two art openings this Friday, November 16, 2012. VIDA: Photography of Arsenio Cordova

and The Art of Devotion: Contemporary and Traditional Retablo and Bulto -- by Jenina Carriaga-Lambert.


Music provided by Grupo Sangre de Cristo. 

Yes!

The shows run from November 16th, 2012 to January 19, 2013.
El Chante: Casa de Cultura
804 Park Ave.
ABQ, NM 87102
elchantecasadecultura@gmail.com (505) 400-9201

Something Different

In Pimp That Muse you'll find a venue for advocacy for the arts and for artists. A place of recognition, honor, and celebrating the joy of accomplishment, a job well done, and the frisson of the pay day. (Yay!)

But I would like to present something different now, for your consideration. Those unsung heroes who leave their mark -- literally -- for reasons ranging from carrying on a tradition, the joy of leaving color and line, and/or political or personal expression. 

I present to you, gentle reader, the muralist and the political poster.

Plastered

                                        
                                     Viva!

Outta the Mouths of Babes

So, I'm sitting on a park bench (but enough about that--) and this MILF and her kid sit down next to me. The kid's super cute -- and so is the mom. They're going to a megga art store, and I know this because I'm eavesdropping (yeah, like you never do that!). So... they stand up after their brief rest, and the six-year old points to some graffiti on the fence. "Why did someone do that?"

The mom says that sometimes people want to make art, and sometimes they need to leave a mark to show that they were there. The kid assays the piece and nods his head. "I bet they got a big commission for that."

MILF and I lock eyes and grin at each other over the kid's earnest head (the innate dignity of kid's is so cool).  "Yes."

Against the Wall

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And

The individual who contributes the information, the words, ideas, photographs, videos, songs, lectures, dance, drawings, paintings, comedy, monologue, impressions -- is known as the "content provider"?

FRIGGIN' CONTENT PROVIDER? When did artists --the role of bard, master, artist, artisan, creator, genius, entertainer, royal court jester, musician, comedian, lecturer, videographer, choreographer, and all around Play Thing of the Muse...devolve into content provider? Do you fully understand how low-rent that sounds? Now normally I'm all about the low-rent, the low road, the easy ride. But damn it, this is art!

And while this may sound like a rhetorical question, it is anything but -- Arise, oh great...whatever the heck you are, and name and claim your glory!

Completing this "blog" post (and don't get me started on "blog" -- I know that it stands for bulletin/log, but it sounds like something the cat coughed up), I must refresh myself. I have habits, I have needs!

I shall conclude by bastardizing the film The Elephant Man, where the hero is a hideous-looking creature whose blighted countenance hides a noble soul, I, too, take the stand that I -- and those of my ilk -- are so very much more than I/we appear. I am a not a content provider, I am creator (damn it!).

I Am. So. Not Jealous...Not.

All right. To head of allegations of jealousy let me own up to it at the start. I AM jealous of those creative, important, wonderful folks who can make computers ring and zing. The programmers, analysts, web designers, IT people, and their nerd royalty ilk who enable modern communication to perform the miracles that it does. They are brilliant, creative, indispensable -- and well remunerated. And not undeservedly so.

My question is...Have you noticed how the individual who takes responsibility for the upkeep of a website is known by the moniker WEB MASTER?

Coming to Terms

A rose is a rose is a... So, let us come to terms. We're talking nomenclature. Definition. Meaning. Syntax. Semantics. A Hierarchy of Order.

Dial up the Diaz

Recently had the pleasure of hearing Junot Diaz (www.junotdiaz.com/) speak before an audience on topics of interest to the author. The whole world -- the friggin' universe -- is of fascination to this dynamic intellectual, so the talk was, well, wondrous. Some are born to write; some to speak. Diaz does it all.

He spoke of coming of age as a Dominican American on the East Coast of the USA. Of the immigrant experience. Of his mother (oh, just wind him up, get him started on the topic of family, and watch him go-go-go!). His friends think he's a political activist who writes on the side.

He told of trees, tales, and the forests that they may comprise. What it was like for him to inculcate the love of language, art while teaching at MIT (hint: no slacking for Mr. Diaz's minions). It was pretty much a love-fest between artist and audience. Then -- one audience member respectfully inquired about the story behind this year's Pulitzer Prize for Literature. In short, it hadn't been awarded. Which sucks! I mean, if nobody had it squared away, surely someone (hey, I have a corner of a closet I'm not utilizing...) should give this prestigious award a home.

Diaz explained that there are rules about what the Pulitzer Prize committee could disclose -- but he could say that they (the committee) had their reasons -- he just couldn't elaborate. He also said that winning the prize was a big deal, and he could understand and commiserate with the confusion that not giving out the award had caused, especially since the novel as we know it, and since its inception, has been a delicate thing, worthy of nurturing and protection.

He claimed that yes, in some ways, winning the Pulitzer Prize in 2008 for The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao had changed his own life. Deadpan, he continued, but not as much, as, say, writing a novel about werewolves. (Hint: I think sparkly, polyamourous werewolves are the best!)

And so, all in the auditorium looked up at Junot Diaz, smitten, driven, in love with the word -- and the individual before us who captured the essence of story so sublimely.

Information Wants to Be

Free. Or does it? Ask your information what it wants....
     I asked mine. Mine wanted a drink and a payment before it would even talk. (Note: That should be the first hint.)
      So, Info and I walk into a bar and sit down. "Do you want to be free?" I ask.
     Info turn to the bartender, "Remy Martin, VSOP, straight." I order beer. Domestic. "Well, we would have to define terms. For instance, what is freedom?"  Info takes an appreciative sip. "In essence --"
     I cut in. Philosophy's fine, but if I'm nursing a beer and Info's swigging French cognac -- on my tab -- we're gonna cut to the chase. "Do you want to be paid for what you offer; the knowledge, power, entertainment, instruction that you, Info, supply?"
     "I myself would be delighted to be offer my services simply for the joy of sharing my presence, but I have...shall we say, bills."

     "But don't you want to be free? Because I've been reading -- and it's been attributed to you -- that wished to be free."
     Info sighed. "Well, yes, I did say that, but it was taken entirely out of context! I meant free to go hither and yon without barrier or borders. I never meant that I didn't expect to be compensated for my time and effort. It's not just for myself, you understand. I have commitments. A family! A whole lot of little Ideas. Even now, there's a new Notion in the oven."
     "I heard there were gambling debts."
     "I don't want to talk about that," said Info, primly.
     "So, for the record, you want remuneration?" I asked.
     Info stared into the beautiful amber liquid -- that was quickly disappearing. He motioned. "Barkeep, one more!" The the bartender came 
      "Still working this Coors." 
     "Don't get me wrong, I still cherish the ideals of my youth. But I've discovered that Beauty, not to mention Health Care, Education, and Housing, all charge, so really, I'm simply trying to get by in the world as I find it. Info, breath sweet with expensive -- very expensive -- cognac sang (off-key!) "It's Hard Out Here For A Pimp," by Three 6 Mafia,( http://www.three6-mafia.com/us/hom.) I joined in. What else could I do? And that note...I paid the tab and Info and I went our separate ways.
       
   

Why Yes, It Is Six Inches, Why Do You Ask?

A stripper I know pointed out that American currency measures six-inches in length. 
     I make it a point of honor to believe everything that strippers tell me -- at least in my personal life. But when it comes to the responsibility of passing on information via the web -- where accuracy is paramount! -- I had to be sure. So, I did what any reasonable, responsible individual would do to assess the length of something -- I guessed. 
     Yet...it began to haunt me. Was it truly six inches?
     And so the experiment began. I took into hand my ever-ready and trustworthy...ruler.
     And yes, indeed. It really, truly, is a perfect-sixer! Plus, it has excellent portraiture and interesting iconic/Masonic imagery. What's not to adore?

Loci

Pimp That Muse! is an examination of creativity. From its name, you will have surmised that the tone will be whimsical, playful, and juicily abundant. And you are right.
Again!
    Imagine. 
    That.
    Your muse is your very own genius, experience, energy; the way they twine and combine. You know that no two creators are the same, but consider, if you will, that the same artist may entertain more than one muse (most amusing).  
     From where does the muse hail? Many different loci spring to mind: the quotidian, dreams, sound-color-space, political events, social interactions, nature, nurture, sensual experience, mythology...and places sans name--yet intimate from the first footfall.
      Adventure, tryst, ecstatic dance -- with its push and pulsating rhythms -- red wine, smoke, fire, silk, friction, rhyme, drum beat, sighs, have all summoned the muse. So has silence. Memory. Imagination. Inner vision. And the all-consuming desire...to redress a wrong. Since Homo sapiens first scratched upon cave walls, moved around fire, and brought fourth life, the merging of ceremony, art, and beauty is intrinsic to who we are as a species.
     Pimp That Muse! is a space. A place to examine your inner calling and its outer manifestation within the context of our social order.
      Explore.
     Connections fan out from creation, meditation, and making and sharing your art. The work. Calling: "Yo!" I said, "Yo, come out-n-play!" 
This is.
       For you.
       Dialogue, community, caring, courage, and encouragement.
       Now, Pimp That Muse!