Saturday, October 8, 2016

An American Laic Cathedral










After twenty minutes from Downtown Amarillo, Texas, driving thru I-40 West for over 10 miles, you reach the exit between 60 and 62, you slide into a side road called Frontage I-40, and not before a U-turn, you stop your car in front of a gate similar to a turnstile. In 1973 a man named Stanley Marsh, defined in most press accounts "eccentric billionaire”, called San Francisco Collective Ant Farm and with three of its leading members - Chip Lord, Hudson Marquez and Doug Michels, decided to buy ten Cadillac produced from 1948 to 1963 and to stick them with their metallic nose deep into the ground. The Cadillacs are aligned and arranged according to the precise angle of the Pyramid of Cheops, Giza, Egypt. The cars lie idle about fifty meters from the entry, and the short path to them, surrounded by low crops, serves as a meditative approach to the installation place. Once you are in front, once that you put yourself in the right distance, you have the complete picture and you can contemplate this authentic American Laic Cathedral. In the United States there are at least a couple of other places like that, places that have this unique, unrepeatable specificity (Heidelberg Project, Detroit and Outdoor Desert Art Museum, Joshua Tree), but the Cadillac Ranch for its historical, geographical and social context, can push the boundaries - even it’s passed more than four decades, the site is no longer the original one, the relic-cars changed several times painting and shade - the boundaries of what was called American Dream and what I would like to call today, American Way of Life, or American Way of Thinking. The fact that they arranged the cars in the same angle of the Pyramid of Giza was not arbitrary: if the pyramids were colossal monuments, erected-tombs for eternals god-men, with the aim to last for thousands of years, the Ranch is the abstract result of the dominant civilization in the world during the last century, and particularly in the Western World Century. It’s no coincidence that such open-air art installations like the two examples of Detroit and Joshua Tree (and the Street Art with its graffiti in New York and Los Angeles etc.?), are present on US soil and not in Europe or maybe even elsewhere. Cadillac Ranch goes further. Its metaphysical coincides with Houston Rothko Chapel’s, a nonconfessional chapel open to all religions till to the prayers of those who are devoid of any religious sense. Simplistically, someone might even say it is a non-place. I think it's just the opposite, even something more than the opposite. With these ten Cadillac buried into the ground for a third of their bodies, you're in front of an ecstatic representation of American Life. Its founding and essential characteristics, its crucial elements: the land of opportunity with the extension, the power and the cruelty of the territories on which you can trace an imaginary border, push it further and further toward an horizon that you will never see, that does not end and therefore does not exist, that can’t have a fixed point of destination but only of transition; the constant and uncontrollable propagation, affirmation and permeation of capitalism with its distractions, disparities, contradictions that fall in inequality and injustice; the freedom of expression, the propensity to discussion and the belief that a more open and free system for the individual will always be better than another in which there are severe limitations in the field of rights and economic opportunities; the idea, true or not, that it is a Nation (and a People - We the People) Under God; finally, the state of criticism, the talent and the inclination for a deep self-criticism as a mean of regeneration and rebirth of the society itself. Cadillac Ranch, 1974. Amarillo, Texas, USA.




Friday, July 8, 2016

Here In Dallas, July 8




'nother day
staying away, distant
protests on the streets

neighbours
your brother
your sister

people killed in neighborhoods
none of this affects us
courage

same ol’ hotel room
she is locked in the bathroom/two hours
she mourns his father

shee cries because shee cannot do anything else
& it has always been the most comfortable thing
men who win

those who lose
tragic events in our bones
what does it matter

I only ask for a rye
but there is no rye
form of compassion


here in dallas, texas, today, live.


Saturday, May 28, 2016

Bill Evans



He had just won the academy award
for the best supporting actor

things end so soon
things end like that

people in the early hours of the day
he took the car, chet baker

everything was so easy
down from the hills
the green
people

what can be said
after success
a persistent success

for a whole lifetime

while the others
are watching you

windows
hiding places that they create


bill evans


Sunday, April 24, 2016

Kenner






Cab covers much of the way to the airport speeding. 95 mph. Driver’s name: Lorraine-Delavriere-Hauteux, identification number 1-9-6-7, Taxicab and For Hire Vehicles Bureau License. Name of the Cab Company, translated from Haitian Creole: Sweets Losses. Car's vermilion with bluish signs. Now Kenner is a dazzle white bloodbath. The land is swollen. Dark collection of black garlands under a thousand year old damp dome. This dome is living here. It moves and crushes the metal structures of the airport, the corroded vaults of the hangars, the service roads for the collapse of time. In the years before the catastrophe, the airport could boast about a prestigious speed record in goods uploading and downloading. The proverbial speed with which they deprived the bellies of civilian aircraft, amassing the baggages of lonesome passengers. Lorraine's neck is pretty minute and compact. By force of circumstances a white off measure t-shirt makes her exaggerated, makes her dirtier than she can be in the Eden Valley. Hair are crisps and brown with touches of red lead, while a nichel-necklace is made of emerald green wooden balls. Drive like a maniac in the the streets of December, the bolt of lightning goddess at the mercy of the white-haired martyr. Refineries with filled yellow lights. Trombone Yellow. Sulfur. Amber. Unnatural heights antennas - intermittent crimson. Dormant Telecommunications in Kenner's lie. Lorrie drives. She goes on. One nine seven six Taxicab and For Hire Vehicles Bureau License. We left Canal at 6.50 am. Take off at 9.45. Junctions are critical points. Asphalt grafts with condensation. In this darkness I can not see the color, but I know they are light gray. It should be a light gray patina. Lorraine pushes the car and when we pass over the spacers, tires lose traction and we swerve slightly. Nothing dangerous. Only centripetal forces, accelerations that dominate a body, the kinematics of human dissatisfaction. Passing Through. Highway has regular bumps, black arched membranes. The forty-minute journey is about to die. International departures entrance is crawling from the blackland.