I'll be going away for a couple of weeks. Visiting family for the holidays in the northeast. I've learned that Nana-chan and Thelus will coincidentaly be there as well. It might be nearly impossibe to find a decent internet connection out there, so you might expect a lack of posts... Ok, let's get real, you're already experiencing a lack of posts. Anyway, I'll be back January 6th with a bunch of new stuff to write about.

I am aware that I'm leaving behind my share of unfinished business. But perhaps this time away from it all will help us all think clearly.

And so, I went to a meeting with the curators who organized the student showcase at the foundation. I guess my single word for it is enticing.
Aracy Amaral, art critic; Rubens Mano, photographer by what I gather; and Lisete Lagnado, art critic.
I guess the subject on everyone's head was obviously the alleged Exhibit of Those Who have been Refused. I forgot to post about it. In the night of the opening of the showcase, all students who had their works refused decided to make an exhibit of their own. I see it as rebeliousness against what happened last year, when architecture students made it to the showcase with a realy disgraceful work and were awarded a scholarship. It completely dishonored the name and status of the student showcase, remaining on our minds for a whole year, if not forever. Not to mention the fact that it made clear to us that there is no criteria in the selection of the works for the showcase. And to make it clear, the Exhibit of Those Who have been Refused was created by the students themselves. I would think they are worthy of praise were it not for the fact that it was terribly disorganized. There were students who actualy made it to the showcase exhibiting their works in it. And even students who didn't even enroll in the showcase, and hence hadn't exactly been "refused".
Most of the curators were obviously appauled by it, because it mocked their work. Imagine: you spend two days deciding what will and what won't be in the showcase and then everything you denied ends up being shown anyway...
Aside from that, there were some very interesting ideas about art, about studying art and about selection criteria. But I really don't have the patience to write it all down here. And I don't think you'd be thrilled to read all that ranting either...
My work was mentioned a bunch of times. First regarding the fact that it was figurative when art in my country has neglected figurativism for decades now in favour of constructivist stuff (abstracts... yuck!). Then for the fact that it takes on two very different lines. As I mentioned earlier, Sati's portrait seems to be such a calm little thing against the Virgin and Child's violence. They mentioned other students that enrolled multiple lines of work. All I had to say to my defense was that we're exposed to five or six different teachers every semester with different tastes. One teacher might say your work sucks for a variety of reasons and then the next day another teacher might congratulate you for it. When we present such different lines of work, we're actually crying for help. We need guidance. We want an opinion about what's wrong or right. That's why we're students.
They aren't the first to mention this multiplicity as something to be corrected... Those gallery ladies who took an interest in the portrait said the same thing. It gives the impression that I'm not exactly sure of what I want. And I see their point. I must choose between the dark phase and the clear phase. That's what they're telling me. Perhaps it's time to bring into the portraits the same edgewalker undertone seen on the Virgin and the photographic ghosts... Mix it all up into one coherent, slightly deranged line of work...
Aracy Amaral did describe my work as having a perverse undertone... Thanks! That's what the dark phases are all about...

There are those days I just wish I had a gatlin gun in the back seat...

Just a sidenote:

Pan rides back home with his window open, carelessly talking on the cell phone. A bum walks by. As he notices the driver talking on the cell phone, he walks calmly to the right window and ducks so that I can see his face: a standard black man with huge lips (sorry if that seemed like a prejudiced remark to you...). He mumbles something that I can't understand over the conversation on the phone. I make a pityful face and answer I have no spare change. He speaks again and once again I have no idea what's he saying so I repeat the gesture in hopes he will understand me. With a frown, he makes one last attempt, and receives the same reaction before he can even finish the sentence. Only this time, I finally understand a single word: "watch"!! By the time it all gets into my head, he has already walked away, giving up on a frustrated attempt at robbery...

Ok, disregard this post: it's just family bullsh*t and personal
grudges.

Family Christmas dinner! Yes, my mom's side of the family usually
celebrates it in advance due to the fact that everyone leaves town for
the holidays, like rats abandoning a sinking (pirate) ship... I'd
really like to say that the family dinner sucks, like every normal
teenager who hates family stuff. But then again, I'm no longer a
teenager, and for some reason, I always look forward to it. I guess
it's just my masochistic way of hoping that some day my cousins (mostly
girls a year younger than me...) will stop treating me like an geek.
See, usualy teenagers hate family gatherings because of the adults. I
seem to hate family gatherings because of the "children". Children who
sit on a separate table on the backyard, smoking and drinking 'til
they're talking nonsense. And who talk about sex and relationships in
whispered tones so I won't hear them, as if I was too naive. Heck, I
bet I've got more tricks below the belt than all of them put
toghether...
And since I'm picking on the wounds here, I do seem to recall that
every year they come with us to a place out in the country that belongs
to my dad's side of the family in a city with a thriving night life and
keep trying to loose me as if I was a bother. That's the thanks I
get... A few years back they pulled the most moronic little stunt
pretending to be sleepy and telling me they were going to bed when it
was disgustingly obvious that they were going to hang out in the garage
with a couple of bottles of booze.
I'm not the only one who's ignored like that. There's my brother, of
course, and our youngest cousin, and our oldest one who's some sort of
computer expert (hence, treated like a geek as well). We've had our
occasional paybacks. Like last year. See, they always leave the family
dinners to head for some party somewhere. They pretend to envite us,
but it's so obvious they don't want us around. Last year is was our
turn (me and my bro) to leave them there, mopping up after the
festivities. Eventually, we've learned not to care too much about them
and just ignore them as they ignore us. But if you know me, then you're
aquainted to the way I tend to hold a grudge...

Is it hard to tell I'm on a dark phase??

Go Lioness!!! Four kilometers on the bike! AND NO CASUALTIES!!!!
As opposed to the last lesson in bike ridding where she all of a sudden decided it was a nice idea to ride straight into a thorny bush...

Ooh... Thanks, Thelus, for all the tips on my blog template! I'll fix them all as soon as I can! For now, there isn't much I can do, since my image server is undergoing some changes and is inaccessible at the moment (and it has been for the past month or so... crap!). I'm really thinking about Lioness' idea of creating another blog at iG, where they let you post images from your computer, just to post images and link them to this one. But the little pricks want me to create an e-mail account in order to create the blog. I'm thinking this through, but I'll wait for my Lioness to arrive for more info...

Maristela asked about the other portraits I posted on the blog. Here are the dates of the posts. I've arranged them in the order I painted the portraits.
10/31/2002 --> Mariana, painted in mid 2001
8/11/2002 --> Lilly, painted in early 2002
8/26/2002 --> Lee, painted recently in July or August, I'm not quite sure.

Some important people are becoming frequent readers of my humble notes...
Teacher Regina Johas wanted to know more about blogging to create a blog for our class. Sort of a co-orientation thing. I told her I could help and gave her the address. Next thing I know, I was at the foundation today and Maristela Cabello (yes, the one who introduced me to the gallery ladies...) told me she had gotten my address on her e-mail. Hmm... Any connection?

*Nostalgic* I remember when my list of readers would barely add up to four close friends... I was thinking about signing up for one of those status indicators that show you how many people accessed the site every day. But I'm affraid it'll make my trudging blog even slower to load. Hmm... You guys have any ideas? Thelus says if I give the correct parameters for image size when I post images, it'll load faster... I'm working on it. Also working on Lioness' idea to load my images on another blog that allows images and then link them to this one. But I've had a few problems signing up to that other blog. This'll have to wait for when my Lioness comes back from her trip.

Well, to all of you new readers, welcome to my humble space. I'll try not to brag to much about personal balderdash and stick to the point.

I went to see brother play last night. Every year he plays at this concert given by the institution he has piano lessons in. For the last two years he has played in a duet with father, who also studied there when he was younger. It's one thing to see them play at home (it can even be annoying at times...), but it's quite another thing to see them on stage. Makes me proud!!
Yesterday they played Radamés e Pelé (not sure about the author...). Brother was still recovering from surgery, but he insisted on playing. Although the doctor had told him not to make any great efforts, he said it was no effort to play the piano. I taped the whole thing, fade-in and fade-out included. His hands on the piano holding the very sound itself, the smile on his face when he finished and father across the stage caressing the cords on the guitar. Brother went home shortly after: mom's orders.
Sitting there, listening to all the wonderful music that night, I caught myself smiling. Some styles of music like jazz and bossa nova have a humor to them. It's in witty accords like words said on the exact time for a joke. Or improvised ending sequences that you really didn't expect. It's quite different from the heart-wrenching stuff I'm used to hearing. And I love it!! I gotta find me some of that and record a CD...
A few songs after my brother went home, this kid, roughly eighteen, sat on the piano to play Duke Elington's Take the "A" train (at least that's how they wrote it on the program, but I doubt it's correct...). I think my brother is one of the most talented piano players I know, but that kid really takes the prize. The way his fingers merely bruised the keys and still made them go off was amazing! And his tyle, full of quick smart remarks, amazing technique and a real joy for doing what he was doing!

That was inspiring...

Terribly sorry, Nana. Although you do have a haircut that does resemble someone in the story, you're not in this comparison. That is, unless author Masakazu Katsura decides to insert a character who shares an obssession for anime with Youta, always makes him feel confortable and makes a very cute couple with her boyfriend.

Dadaist revelation IV:

If Pan = Youta Monteuchi, ("yoda motenai"...) then:
Lioness = Amano Ai
Sati = Hayakawa Moemi
Makel = Nizaki Nobuko

It's amazing how most of the things fit...

Tuesday, 8:00 am. Cloudy weather. My brother goes under the knife...

Ever had one of those long phone silences that come after a fight?
You have that amazing squabble with someone over the phone and, after everything is said, person A says good-bye. Person B answers a specific good-bye, in a specific tone that leaves both in a deadlock. Person B expects person A to say something. Perhaps to apologize for something or correct an alleged mistake.
Most of the times this happens, person A has absolutely no idea what does person B expect him/her to say and just wants to end that conversation. But the tone in that good-bye demands that something be said. And person B will remain soundless until person A says it or hangs up the phone (which, in most cases, will be considered by person B as some sort of aggression, insult or others of the sort...).


Should I write this down as a dadaist revelation??