The pit is thick with ribbons
of violet, sulpher sediment layered
like a cake. Crystal fists pocketed in the rock,
nerves of electricity threaded like microscopic sun rays,
gold coughed up, silver, then duller metals,
though this cavernous body gave up,
exhausted, not so much a rumble
as a hollow blink.
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Thursday, October 2, 2008
Invisibility, Part 1 (unfinished)
During the spring and summer of 2006, the Los Angeles County Museum of Art’s experimental branch, LACMA Lab, ran a show titled “Consider This” which invited the six artists represented, and subsequently the public, to consider our present social and cultural climate. With these broad parameters one artist, Margaret Honda, created a piece titled “Hide Out.” Using wood and various blue patterned cloth, she constructed a large clubhouse viewers circled, peering through peepholes and into the snarling mouth or startled stare of taxidermied animals on loan from the Natural History Museum. Viewers were then welcome to build their own clubhouses from textiles and pillows adjacent to the larger work.
Honda’s piece speaks to the idea of invisibility and what this does to individuals, communities and space. The animals in her clubhouse (or, rather, fortress) are contained and hidden, their presence and actions visible only when the viewer chooses to peek into their “habitat ”. The views offer only a limited perspective of the animal and the space they inhabit. This concept of invisibility is not new to our social and cultural climate but it is especially topical in regards to the debate of undocumented workers in the United States.
Undocumented workers are an existing part of U.S. society contributing to our social conscious, our work force, and our communities. Whether an individual or groups are for or against their presence in this country, theirs is a presence that is active and can’t be ignored. People working without papers in the U.S., whether seasonally or with an intent to stay, are slotted in a category of invisibility by the circumstance of their lives. With a necessity to remain out of the eye of the law, or of citizens who think they are the law, coupled with marginalized occupations available to them, undocumented workers generally occupy jobs that are behind-the-scenes. Chefs and dishwashers in restaurant kitchens, janitors with night shifts, field workers in rural farms, day laborers working with private contractors in construction or landscaping, nannies in private houses or secluded parks all have little interaction with the general public.
At the end of the day there is a similar condition of invisibility surrounding the community a worker returns to. Many neighborhoods are comprised of families of undocumented workers, of families with an undocumented worker living with them, or houses or apartments where many people, mainly men, live, unrelated to each other but sharing a common space, probably the same language, and a similar position as being undocumented. The condition of invisibility is one create both by the people living within it and those without it. It is a choice all individuals and communities, admittedly with much difficulty, can choose to transcend.
Honda’s piece speaks to the idea of invisibility and what this does to individuals, communities and space. The animals in her clubhouse (or, rather, fortress) are contained and hidden, their presence and actions visible only when the viewer chooses to peek into their “habitat ”. The views offer only a limited perspective of the animal and the space they inhabit. This concept of invisibility is not new to our social and cultural climate but it is especially topical in regards to the debate of undocumented workers in the United States.
Undocumented workers are an existing part of U.S. society contributing to our social conscious, our work force, and our communities. Whether an individual or groups are for or against their presence in this country, theirs is a presence that is active and can’t be ignored. People working without papers in the U.S., whether seasonally or with an intent to stay, are slotted in a category of invisibility by the circumstance of their lives. With a necessity to remain out of the eye of the law, or of citizens who think they are the law, coupled with marginalized occupations available to them, undocumented workers generally occupy jobs that are behind-the-scenes. Chefs and dishwashers in restaurant kitchens, janitors with night shifts, field workers in rural farms, day laborers working with private contractors in construction or landscaping, nannies in private houses or secluded parks all have little interaction with the general public.
At the end of the day there is a similar condition of invisibility surrounding the community a worker returns to. Many neighborhoods are comprised of families of undocumented workers, of families with an undocumented worker living with them, or houses or apartments where many people, mainly men, live, unrelated to each other but sharing a common space, probably the same language, and a similar position as being undocumented. The condition of invisibility is one create both by the people living within it and those without it. It is a choice all individuals and communities, admittedly with much difficulty, can choose to transcend.
Sunday, August 24, 2008
Traditionalist
Though usually a person who favors progressive ideas (gay marriage, green energy, fusion food), when it comes to matters of science I sometimes identify as a traditionalist. Not that I believe in creationism (god forbid) but rather I question the ethics and moral decisions some scientists, and their supporters, are making.
I sorely lack exposure to the world of science and much of what the field is undertaking. I realize there are continuous advances and mind-blowing theories being tested which are saving people and creating paths for healthier living. However, even in my admittedly limited awareness, one branch of science irks me and that is biotechnology.
For one, the prefix and root word don't mesh in mind. Though some techno-gadgets, such as pace-makers, were based on anatomical observation and at this point the population can't seem to survive without it's various contraptions, "life" and "machine" don't necessarily go hand-in-hand. For the majority of this world's history, the latter didn't exist and the former never even considered it's current partner.
What has bothered me about biotechnology for some time is the question of gene manipulation.
Scientists pulling DNA from one source and injecting into another to alter eons of foundational makeup? This argument is all too obvious, and I never would have imagined myself in a camp with religious conservatives, but here it goes... ISN'T this type of practice a little bit like playing god? (Wow, I've used the "g" word twice in this posting.)
The again, I suppose one could argue that any sort of doctoring is playing at g** but if I continue down that track this post could lean more into the Christian Scientist territory than I'm comfortable with.
Maybe my problem is I'm simply irritated with what seems to me like a big time-waster: Recently some MIT students added DNA to their E-Coli lab samples so that instead of smelling like feces, the petri dishes emitted banana and wintergreen aromas. Really? If they were bored while the bacteria grew couldn't' they have studied pink-eye, black mold, or malaria? Maybe it's just a way for these students to get their kicks; a way to get their creative juices flowing. Maybe they think writing poems is a big waste of time and not advantageous to society's unity.
But on the ethics/moral bent, what I find appalling is that Darwinism could be at it's end. What if "natural" natural selection is thrown out the window and people start selecting good genes from beakers to create babies instead of selecting mates who are primitively genetically appealing in order to propagate the human race. It's all too sci-fi for me; it's too artificial and not enough "organic."
Yes, invitro fertilization creates a blurry line, as well as egg donation, which plays into race and class issues. I don't think I have enough space here or energy to fully investigate at this juncture the moral and ethical spectrum of biotechnology, I just wanted to put these thoughts on the subject out there.
Maybe I just need to get over it: maybe gene manipulation is a much, much more sophisticated form of fruit tree grafting.
I sorely lack exposure to the world of science and much of what the field is undertaking. I realize there are continuous advances and mind-blowing theories being tested which are saving people and creating paths for healthier living. However, even in my admittedly limited awareness, one branch of science irks me and that is biotechnology.
For one, the prefix and root word don't mesh in mind. Though some techno-gadgets, such as pace-makers, were based on anatomical observation and at this point the population can't seem to survive without it's various contraptions, "life" and "machine" don't necessarily go hand-in-hand. For the majority of this world's history, the latter didn't exist and the former never even considered it's current partner.
What has bothered me about biotechnology for some time is the question of gene manipulation.
Scientists pulling DNA from one source and injecting into another to alter eons of foundational makeup? This argument is all too obvious, and I never would have imagined myself in a camp with religious conservatives, but here it goes... ISN'T this type of practice a little bit like playing god? (Wow, I've used the "g" word twice in this posting.)
The again, I suppose one could argue that any sort of doctoring is playing at g** but if I continue down that track this post could lean more into the Christian Scientist territory than I'm comfortable with.
Maybe my problem is I'm simply irritated with what seems to me like a big time-waster: Recently some MIT students added DNA to their E-Coli lab samples so that instead of smelling like feces, the petri dishes emitted banana and wintergreen aromas. Really? If they were bored while the bacteria grew couldn't' they have studied pink-eye, black mold, or malaria? Maybe it's just a way for these students to get their kicks; a way to get their creative juices flowing. Maybe they think writing poems is a big waste of time and not advantageous to society's unity.
But on the ethics/moral bent, what I find appalling is that Darwinism could be at it's end. What if "natural" natural selection is thrown out the window and people start selecting good genes from beakers to create babies instead of selecting mates who are primitively genetically appealing in order to propagate the human race. It's all too sci-fi for me; it's too artificial and not enough "organic."
Yes, invitro fertilization creates a blurry line, as well as egg donation, which plays into race and class issues. I don't think I have enough space here or energy to fully investigate at this juncture the moral and ethical spectrum of biotechnology, I just wanted to put these thoughts on the subject out there.
Maybe I just need to get over it: maybe gene manipulation is a much, much more sophisticated form of fruit tree grafting.
Seven Wonders of the World
Poem I: Song
The throat conspires with the diaphragm
to shape the storm of breath batting through
the body's caverns and chutes, lifting from the tongue against
the mouth's soft catherdral, past lips to particles
nearly split with the gift of embracing such sound on waves
that break into coronets on our lobes and whorls,
such sound that sinks us, then buoys this arrow, this
if you you carry it a little longer, a little closer to the chest
it rifts the heart and then sews the tear-
a constant mending and unmending the voodoo a croon does to us.
Poem II: Miracle Valley
Clouds to the north stretch like racing horses' necks.
Two miles south Mexico is lightning pricked,
hot pins stick the earth and wet.
The valley turns over on its back in the flagging heat
to the dim bloom of sun obscured by mountain range and monsoon
while I turn east to those clouds that trail the star's rotation,
those clouds that have the best of it: my attention,
columns of lavender, gray and pink,
ushering the last light of the earth
through the blue valley, over my head.
Poem III: Salicorne
River born, briny
St. Lawrence, the coast of France
Crunch of green, salt teeth
The throat conspires with the diaphragm
to shape the storm of breath batting through
the body's caverns and chutes, lifting from the tongue against
the mouth's soft catherdral, past lips to particles
nearly split with the gift of embracing such sound on waves
that break into coronets on our lobes and whorls,
such sound that sinks us, then buoys this arrow, this
if you you carry it a little longer, a little closer to the chest
it rifts the heart and then sews the tear-
a constant mending and unmending the voodoo a croon does to us.
Poem II: Miracle Valley
Clouds to the north stretch like racing horses' necks.
Two miles south Mexico is lightning pricked,
hot pins stick the earth and wet.
The valley turns over on its back in the flagging heat
to the dim bloom of sun obscured by mountain range and monsoon
while I turn east to those clouds that trail the star's rotation,
those clouds that have the best of it: my attention,
columns of lavender, gray and pink,
ushering the last light of the earth
through the blue valley, over my head.
Poem III: Salicorne
River born, briny
St. Lawrence, the coast of France
Crunch of green, salt teeth
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Arizona Poem
Clouds stream the San Pedro Valley.
Strange to think of clouds as earth-bound things,
like sheep, though not Biblical ones (lamb-white and downy)
but rather desert born, burrs snarring wool, black bellies.
These sheep corraled against the mountains,
herded north through the valley, graze up the foothills
so only the snow-capped summit waves a flag of peace.
Herding season as though on the Navajo Nation,
so many what is left is a shape of color.
Strange to think of clouds as earth-bound things,
like sheep, though not Biblical ones (lamb-white and downy)
but rather desert born, burrs snarring wool, black bellies.
These sheep corraled against the mountains,
herded north through the valley, graze up the foothills
so only the snow-capped summit waves a flag of peace.
Herding season as though on the Navajo Nation,
so many what is left is a shape of color.
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
Waffle
Nobody likes a waffler. Or a flip-flopper. Americans are incredibly critical of politicians who change their views as campaigns march forward. When a politician re-states an opinion or amends a policy that even suggests a switch, voters boo and hiss and rivals take the opportunity to lash out against their opponent.
I'd like to propose a new lens in which to examine this phenomenon.
What if re-examined proposals signaled a leader who was capable of making calculated decisions as information presented itself? What if policies with a new bent were a sign of political growth and, as one presidential hopeful pushes, true change?
Though I disagree with his ultimate decision, Obama's recent declaration of sending more troops to Afghanistan (once witnessing the vulnerable infrastructure and population and contradicting his former wish of a troop withdrawal from the region) is one example of a politician changing his mind in an educated fashion.
A politician who is static is a danger in my book. Inflexibility leads to mistakes. Politicians are in a pivotal position where they (if they choose to listen) are privy to an enormous amount of information crucial in making national and, subsequently, global decisions. This information changes rapidly and someone unable to analyze and act accordingly ultimately is, at best, incompetent and, in worst case scenarios, endangering individuals, societies and environments.
Looking at wafflers through the lens of "average" America it's clear why a politician who ventures into the realm of changed opinion is subject to attack. Currently, it signifies someone inexperienced, indecisive, and weak of character. But static politicians are capable of covering up lies (see Bush and WMDs in Iraq) or pushing ulterior agendas (see Bush and any Middle East occupation).
Granted, there should be some expectations of politicians as they act as executive (or legislative) powers and practice educated, sometimes changing, decision making. Politicians need a foundation of principles voters can use to measure future decisions. Transparency is critical so that citizens can gauge whether a politician is being influenced by private interests or bureaucratic peer pressure. Politicians should not use this practice as a way of pandering to voters to earn a majority win.
Of course, having written this, I don't believe any politician is capable of honestly practicing a change of mind in policy decisions all the time. Though there are times when a politician uses his or her career as an opportunity for learning, growth, and change for themselves and the nation, they usually are, aptly, a waffle.
I'd like to propose a new lens in which to examine this phenomenon.
What if re-examined proposals signaled a leader who was capable of making calculated decisions as information presented itself? What if policies with a new bent were a sign of political growth and, as one presidential hopeful pushes, true change?
Though I disagree with his ultimate decision, Obama's recent declaration of sending more troops to Afghanistan (once witnessing the vulnerable infrastructure and population and contradicting his former wish of a troop withdrawal from the region) is one example of a politician changing his mind in an educated fashion.
A politician who is static is a danger in my book. Inflexibility leads to mistakes. Politicians are in a pivotal position where they (if they choose to listen) are privy to an enormous amount of information crucial in making national and, subsequently, global decisions. This information changes rapidly and someone unable to analyze and act accordingly ultimately is, at best, incompetent and, in worst case scenarios, endangering individuals, societies and environments.
Looking at wafflers through the lens of "average" America it's clear why a politician who ventures into the realm of changed opinion is subject to attack. Currently, it signifies someone inexperienced, indecisive, and weak of character. But static politicians are capable of covering up lies (see Bush and WMDs in Iraq) or pushing ulterior agendas (see Bush and any Middle East occupation).
Granted, there should be some expectations of politicians as they act as executive (or legislative) powers and practice educated, sometimes changing, decision making. Politicians need a foundation of principles voters can use to measure future decisions. Transparency is critical so that citizens can gauge whether a politician is being influenced by private interests or bureaucratic peer pressure. Politicians should not use this practice as a way of pandering to voters to earn a majority win.
Of course, having written this, I don't believe any politician is capable of honestly practicing a change of mind in policy decisions all the time. Though there are times when a politician uses his or her career as an opportunity for learning, growth, and change for themselves and the nation, they usually are, aptly, a waffle.
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Perennial Pessimist
I've come to realize I'm a day-to-day optimist and a long-term pessimist.
Every morning I enjoy the sun in the windows, look forward to chatting with friends, relish a good meal, and am pleased-as-punch to see my cucumber seeds sprouting strong green leaves in the dirt.
When I take a look at the long haul, however, a bit of apocalytpic foreshadowing darkens my mood. Lastnight on PBS' "Frontline" global warming and overpopulation were linked to land deprivation, thievery, tribal strife, war, rape, and starvation. Nothing new, but the connections were made all too clear and gloomy. Taking this information to heart, I ask myself questions such as, "Do I want to have a child who will be another burden on this already strained planet," and "Do I want to have a child who will face who-knows-what trials, fears, and catastrophies in a world rapidly shutting down?"
I sometimes find myself imagining how I will take care of myself and those I love if the inevitable water shortage, energy crisis, and capitalistic implosion occurs sooner rather than later. And then, when I move away from selfish concerns, I realize these issues have already distaerously impacted the poor of the world. (The poor always first experience the consequences of the wealthy's messes and, unjustly, the wealthy have the resources to buffer themselves from these messes.)
Though optimism better suits my temperment, I am begining to embrace the sobering realist within me. I think McCain is going to win the election. I think the desert region I live in needs to adopt a better water conservation system before the drought we're in becomes permanent. I think I need to start bicycling to my job, plant native seeds, and work towards communalism.
Perhaps the direction I am headed in is not so much pessimism but, rather, as the state of society currently stands, radicalism.
Every morning I enjoy the sun in the windows, look forward to chatting with friends, relish a good meal, and am pleased-as-punch to see my cucumber seeds sprouting strong green leaves in the dirt.
When I take a look at the long haul, however, a bit of apocalytpic foreshadowing darkens my mood. Lastnight on PBS' "Frontline" global warming and overpopulation were linked to land deprivation, thievery, tribal strife, war, rape, and starvation. Nothing new, but the connections were made all too clear and gloomy. Taking this information to heart, I ask myself questions such as, "Do I want to have a child who will be another burden on this already strained planet," and "Do I want to have a child who will face who-knows-what trials, fears, and catastrophies in a world rapidly shutting down?"
I sometimes find myself imagining how I will take care of myself and those I love if the inevitable water shortage, energy crisis, and capitalistic implosion occurs sooner rather than later. And then, when I move away from selfish concerns, I realize these issues have already distaerously impacted the poor of the world. (The poor always first experience the consequences of the wealthy's messes and, unjustly, the wealthy have the resources to buffer themselves from these messes.)
Though optimism better suits my temperment, I am begining to embrace the sobering realist within me. I think McCain is going to win the election. I think the desert region I live in needs to adopt a better water conservation system before the drought we're in becomes permanent. I think I need to start bicycling to my job, plant native seeds, and work towards communalism.
Perhaps the direction I am headed in is not so much pessimism but, rather, as the state of society currently stands, radicalism.
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
Greece
Over the years, when choosing a place to travel to, I have created a list of attributes to make a decision. Sensitive to the aesthetics of geography and architecture, intrigued by history and its resulting societies, bewitched by language, and driven by food, these have emerged as the prominent criteria. Of course, every spot on the map in draped in layers of history and linguists the world over steep in the study of nearly every tongue. The question becomes WHAT history and culture do I want to delve into, what language (being only fluent in English and semi-competent in Spanish) do I want to bumble through?
Many places come to mind: Brazil, Ghana, Thailand, the Czech Republic. One country that often floats to the top of my mind is Greece.
The geography of Greece is ideal to me: a desert landscape of cactus and sun embellished by the rich Mediterranean colors of brilliant water, bouganvilla, and olive trees. There are white domed houses stacked on hillsides and crumbling pillars the gods supposedly stepped through. From the so-called birth of democracy to Socrates, the Ottoman Empire, and the civil war in the 1960's, there is a wealth of history to explore. My knowledge of the Greek language is nonexistent but I would relish it nonetheless and teach myself simple phrases. And of course, perhaps (to me) most importantly, are the dolmades, goat cheese, fresh olives, and bright citrus.
Many places come to mind: Brazil, Ghana, Thailand, the Czech Republic. One country that often floats to the top of my mind is Greece.
The geography of Greece is ideal to me: a desert landscape of cactus and sun embellished by the rich Mediterranean colors of brilliant water, bouganvilla, and olive trees. There are white domed houses stacked on hillsides and crumbling pillars the gods supposedly stepped through. From the so-called birth of democracy to Socrates, the Ottoman Empire, and the civil war in the 1960's, there is a wealth of history to explore. My knowledge of the Greek language is nonexistent but I would relish it nonetheless and teach myself simple phrases. And of course, perhaps (to me) most importantly, are the dolmades, goat cheese, fresh olives, and bright citrus.
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