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.
Saturday, October 8, 2016
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.
Tuesday, September 8, 2015
R61, deposed/1
[...] and there was this man dressed in red branson they called him I think they called him branson or ranson not sure bout that I crossed the sthreet he had this red nose of ribbons thought he was kinda fighter then that night there was the shooting at the silver bar I was crossing that sthreet and the party started: heavy load on me buddies that period was surely high lemmie tell ya you can never be so sure are your eyes able to see that night I saw a double murder on R-61 aside the main sthreet in the heart of the state black mamba snakes gators football matches on tvs beers gallons of whiskey the life on the fuckin missie the water queen of this universe ehy I tell ya what I tell you I’m tired retired every little drop that can rest can remains in this world of centuries all this affair this human existence this human consequence the man in red was called RED funny but he was scarlet I didn’t pretend an equal life low life I do not ever understand all of you words we’re all surrounded by words words and people and now tell me in what do you believe religion wives whores a fuckin black hole what do ya believe all this stuff maybe she was a prost and she was my sis what are gonna do bout it no way man outside fields n nuthin they wash the sthreets they wash the roads highways factories houses farms the whole country and they go on and on and on to make this nation clean and neat [...]
Saturday, July 25, 2015
147,1
sun's gone down in highways junctions bottom, car radio still on to survive to the spring birds migration and human beings that stand with you in a path to follow only after seven in the evening, large elevated sections suspended hundreds of meters above the barren valley due to the spilled and the burnt oil after some leaks, the exterior lights of an abandoned theatre left without electricity by an amount of time with no name and no form - out of the diner, cars with oversized tires welcome to nighthawks and that girl sitting at that white table and holding a sepia tone newspaper, seems to tell everyone I saw the world, looking at page after page till the ads, not the lonely hearts ones, but job offers; she would have wanted to bring a red pen to circle phone numbers but she did not and she won’t do anything of this then she shakes the paper and takes another long sip of coffee and orders a vanilla milkshake. She gazes out the window and sees me walking outside.
Tuesday, July 14, 2015
Three Songs
Vinnie
Ehy vinnie vinnie
How's out there
Ehy vinnie
Definitely Who cares
Little Vinnie
In your pants
Joyceful Vinnie
With her mare
You got a trust that won't last
In season of war it will be rough
Ehy vinnie vinnie
Who can tell
Every holy day
Yo get to the shop
So there's nothing again to drop
Vinnie vinnie
********
Foreign Land
This song began
With a man
Who lost his head
He lived in a foreign land
A foreign land
Without a maid
He knew what was right
But he didn't do it
All the time
In the woods with cherry wine
All the beasts
And walk by
Not even fall with a gun
Hunting victims
For the trials
He returned to swampy islands
To get buried
In his mother backyard
He knew what was right
But he didn't do it
All the time
In the woods with cherry wine
All the beasts
And walk by
*******
This ol town
They arrived
This ol town
They knew
What was all about
They arrived
This ol town
In a car
Dragged down
They arrived that day
Nuthin to say
Sun was low
No story told
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