Carlos

Hello my dear Ana,

Hope this email finds you well.

I´m sending you my work for your beautiful project ¨36 days¨.

Hope you enjoy it!

Title: Sounds of a Vanishing Era: Steam and Diesel

Description:

¨When opening the package it contained a Vynil Record titled “ Railroad Sounds. The Sounds of a Vanishing Era: Diesel and Steam.” I was unsure of how to start, yet the title stayed with me for some days.

I started thinking about my country, Dominican Republic, and i associated the title with our current social and political situation. We, the people, receive a lot of oppression from the state, witnessing corruption on a daily basis. It´s something we are fighting against and speak our minds for it.

With the 36 days project, i present this series of 36 documentary photographs i took in a protest in Santo Domingo due to changes being made in the Constitution, the privatization of public beaches, being one of them. “Sounds of a Vanishing Era” seeks to portray a country not condescending with the newly established laws, putting themselves out there and letting their voices be heard in front of the Dominican National Congress. It was beautiful to see how everyone that attended to protest their rights showed up wearing beach clothing with big umbrellas, playing volleyball and, something very traditional of people in Dominican Republic when going to the beach, food for the whole family (spagetthis, bread, rice, yuca, plantains). Funny picture i saw was a group of police men inside of a bus because of the rain. Apparently they didn´t want to get wet. The things you see...

The audio track in this video is performed and composed by Silvio Rodriguez,a cuban musician who is characteristic for his profound lyrics and revolutionary ideals.

I dedicate this piece to a friend who recently passed away. To Arlincita, a fighter.

-Carlos Rodríguez

The Sounds of a Vanishing Era from Carlos Rt on Vimeo.

The End of 36 Days??? Not quite

Hello. Last I wrote, I was headed to bed. I just woke up today, kinda. Vertigo, people! I had vertigo caused by small crystals in the labyrinth of my inner ear moving out of place. So weird!!

But, it means that the last six days of my performance, I was bed ridden. A friend came up to visit and he walked me around the block like an old dog one afternoon. That's when I left this postcard (forever dedicated, I know. i think i was still in denial at this point) at the corner on our way to the park. We went and sat by the river and I almost scratched my ear with my right pinky toe, but decided against it.

My friend thought the second placement was actually artistic, as opposed to simply located.

And then, in those six days lost and gone to time, I received all these wonderful works of art from the artists...and only now, do I get to post them. So, that is what I'm up to today: posting artwork. I am still receiving pieces from folks. You are all awesome. Thank you to all the artists who participated. I am so grateful. And thank you to all the wonderful amazing people who took photos with me, too. And, if you got a postcard, send a comment sometime.

This isn't the last of me! I promise.

Day 29: Chris

She (I didn;t get her name) picked it up and gave it to me. That's a first. And I, in my cloudy ear infected state, put it back. I shoulda given it to her. Sad. It's back on the seat for the next person who sees it.


And thank you Chris: We were at a stop light/bus stop waiting for folks to get off and he agreed to a photo. This is his route. Every day.



Now, the ear infection has taken a little turn from not so hot to really not so hot. So, I may have to be in bed for the next couple of days. Also sad. Alas - the vertigo is just not cute any more. We'll see. Maybe I'll wake up on Friday and feel amazing. Hope to be back soon. Peace.

Day 28: Paul

At work, at night.

The other side of morning...at the bus stop.

Day 27: Billy

made a chai with milk (better known as a "chai latte") for me today here in the blue city of New Haven...

See how we're both kinda crooked? It's cause I have an ear infection and I'm walking like I didn't drink my V8. I think my photos' kinda crooked, too. There's a solid kinda geometry going on. Billy was cool; I told him it was Day 27.

I've decided that my postcard planting plot is somewhat...how shall I say...failing? It's like adding a brushstroke of pink acrylic to a canvas that's mostly collage - maybe it will work, but maybe it really won't. This does not mean I have given up, however. I have re-stocked my trusty orange book bag and will carry on. How do I make up for the fallibility/failure? Do I incorporate it into the day by leaving several postcards in one day? Or do I simply extend the project's ending by leaving postcards after the 22nd? Or, do I simply keep the postcards and make something with them?

I think I'll put up a poll and ask folks about what they think I should do. Failure is not an easy thing to reconcile, though in and of itself it is not the dead end we all think it is, either.

Mictlanxotchil

if walls could speak. from angela mictlanxochitl on Vimeo.

Steven Sonny Stevie G.

Because (for Ana)
Steven G. Fullwood
September 11, 2011

Because Ana is a portal that you jump through

And who can resist an opening?

Because she is a hedonist who gets work done early
So she can catnap and Quantum Leap and stitch her voodoo babies together
Because after a month of time traveling
Of packing up everything supposedly mine and moving next door
From a basement to third floor Jefferson’s style
Because clothes books and CDs aren’t the only thing to unbox
Because my God arms are not too short
Because the threes whispering psst
Third apartment, third building, same street, 10037, 13 years at my job
Because one trip to Chicago wasn’t enough
Because one time to a conference about archiving
Because second time two planes, one car, father, a sister and a friend driving
through a rainstorm tickled me into confidence
Because I know all I want for my father in this lifetime
And the next is peace
That my 93-year old grandmother sees the husband she stayed true to even after
he died
Because I thought I was granddad reincarnated for a moment
Because blood language surges through me
Because after I threw the yarn Ana gave me out the window
Shimmied down the brown sticky line
Explosions went off in my body
Aftershocks connecting every Steven I was or will ever be
Because if you ask I probably will
I’ll show up, write it, speak it, show it, offer it up like manna to whoever takes
Because coffee, like fucking, like solitude, is necessary
Because Tom Waits makes more sense when you can’t feel your fingers
anymore and your American’s idle
Because the dead ain’t dead but laugh at your silly ass for thinking so
Because being interdimensional is misdiagnosed as schizophrenia, mental
illness
Because when art comes and asks you to wrap your face in yarn
And you just do it
And almost suffocate

But you know you won’t
Can’t see shit in your apartment
You stumble for the camera
You take photographs of yourself in the bathroom, on the living room floor
You just listen to what comes
Take the stage
Sing your song that day the way it wants to be sung
So if you a beat behind relax
Because I can’t resist singing
The song
Can’t stop spinning
The yarn
Can’t stop road
The travel
Can’t resist
The challenge
Can’t help but reliving
The shame
Can’t help erupting into memory
The shimmy
Can’t help broadcasting my naked ass
The bare windows in my new apartment
Can’t help needing to be here for a few more seconds
The wooden floor
Can’t help
Helping the can’t
The won’t
The will
The am
The I
The nothing that is
The tangle of thoughts
The poetry I don’t want to write
The poems that piss on others
The not trying
The try not
The tried knot
The knot you supposed to untie
And then hang on until
Until

Until
You reach for the door
The knob
The next portal
The unending to this poem