one of my favorite songs:
water from the well - ray lamontagne
29 January 2009
28 January 2009
El Paraíso También Puede Ser Repugnante
i wrote this in the fall for the web site i interned with this summer. if you feel like practicing your español, look here. my translation here is pretty awkward, but you'll get the idea.
elzocalo.cl
Paradise can also be disgusting
By Andrea Mabry - USA
1 September 2008
To me it seems that wherever you look in Valparaíso, there is some kind of art, whether its' a mural, graffiti, handmade clothing or decoration in the micros [public buses]. There is a staggering amount of art in this city. It is clear that Valparaíso is a city of arts, no matter where you look. One example is the ex-Cárcel [ex-prison]. It is wonderful to me, a foreigner; this building with a very questionable past that has been converted into a house of paintings and sculptures. The idea may be the most crazy but also the most intelligent that I have ever heard.
And I'm sure you've heard this statement many times. After all, aspects of the "intangible heritage" of Valpo that make the city a cultural capital of the world are plain to see.
But why are some people so enthusiastic about the idea of destroying the ex-Cárcel and building a pristine cultural center building instead of recovering the ex-Cárcel? The same question holds for the city of Valparaíso in general. It is also worth asking why in the world anyone wants to build giant corporate condominiums amid the towers of shipping containers in a city with a questionable and dirty character.
Let me explain. When I say that the character of the city is dirty I say it in the best way possible, like when my American friends say jokingly that I am a "dirty hippie." The experience of being in Valparaíso is much more difficult to explain, than, for example, saying that New York City is busy. In order to describe Valpo with accuracy, you must include the dirt, the dog shit everywhere you step, the many homeless on the streets. So, it is difficult to explain this city, I think, to someone who has not been there.
But let's talk about the ex-Cárcel. When I entered the compound for the first time, I was overwhelmed by a sense of profundity. During a long micro ride that morning, a friend told me about a guide in Villa Grimaldi, Santiago, a former prisoner who says he was tortured in the Valparaíso jail during the dictatorship. Well, this place where horrible things may have happened is now completely covered with works of art, the majority of which are impressive.
Even when looking at walls covered with the most colorful paintings, the ex-Cárcel is still a little frightening for a lone girl. The place is full of feeling--when you step inside the entrance it hits you like a wall of bricks. It's easy to feel very small.
Some people want to replace the complex with a new multi-million dollar building. They would demolish something rich with culture and filled with history to build a structured place for the artists who work there. This contradicts everything that I found Valpo to be. I think the artists would feel confined if they worked in a new building. Valparaíso is dirty, and people paint graffiti on the walls, whether or not they are good painters. You cannot structure art. Culture can not be created on command. You can't say 'Good. Begin. Now make something. " The ex-Cárcel is not beautiful in itself. It's sublime. From it surges a sense of beauty and fear, wonder and amazement and revulsion. It is a torturous love, and the city of Valparaíso is the same. Valparaíso is a different kind of paradise from what most would expect.
The very idea of taking an old prison and turning it into a mecca of art, theater and music is quite revolutionary and gives new meaning to the past. It is, somehow, a place that honors the past while at the same time the clandestine character of the city. The ex-Cárcel and all that it represents are the kind of things that define a city, and the type of things that many people are jealous of.
Even while traveling in other cities around the world, I have never found places like the ex-Cárcel, and now they tell me that someone decided to get rid of not-very-kosher building and replace it with a cookie-cutter clean one. If a demolition crane helped in the destruction of the ex-Cárcel it would be a blow to all the people of Valparaíso, and a message that they want to convert Valparaíso into another generic big city like many others in the world.
elzocalo.cl
Paradise can also be disgusting
By Andrea Mabry - USA
1 September 2008
To me it seems that wherever you look in Valparaíso, there is some kind of art, whether its' a mural, graffiti, handmade clothing or decoration in the micros [public buses]. There is a staggering amount of art in this city. It is clear that Valparaíso is a city of arts, no matter where you look. One example is the ex-Cárcel [ex-prison]. It is wonderful to me, a foreigner; this building with a very questionable past that has been converted into a house of paintings and sculptures. The idea may be the most crazy but also the most intelligent that I have ever heard.
And I'm sure you've heard this statement many times. After all, aspects of the "intangible heritage" of Valpo that make the city a cultural capital of the world are plain to see.
But why are some people so enthusiastic about the idea of destroying the ex-Cárcel and building a pristine cultural center building instead of recovering the ex-Cárcel? The same question holds for the city of Valparaíso in general. It is also worth asking why in the world anyone wants to build giant corporate condominiums amid the towers of shipping containers in a city with a questionable and dirty character.
Let me explain. When I say that the character of the city is dirty I say it in the best way possible, like when my American friends say jokingly that I am a "dirty hippie." The experience of being in Valparaíso is much more difficult to explain, than, for example, saying that New York City is busy. In order to describe Valpo with accuracy, you must include the dirt, the dog shit everywhere you step, the many homeless on the streets. So, it is difficult to explain this city, I think, to someone who has not been there.
But let's talk about the ex-Cárcel. When I entered the compound for the first time, I was overwhelmed by a sense of profundity. During a long micro ride that morning, a friend told me about a guide in Villa Grimaldi, Santiago, a former prisoner who says he was tortured in the Valparaíso jail during the dictatorship. Well, this place where horrible things may have happened is now completely covered with works of art, the majority of which are impressive.
Even when looking at walls covered with the most colorful paintings, the ex-Cárcel is still a little frightening for a lone girl. The place is full of feeling--when you step inside the entrance it hits you like a wall of bricks. It's easy to feel very small.
Some people want to replace the complex with a new multi-million dollar building. They would demolish something rich with culture and filled with history to build a structured place for the artists who work there. This contradicts everything that I found Valpo to be. I think the artists would feel confined if they worked in a new building. Valparaíso is dirty, and people paint graffiti on the walls, whether or not they are good painters. You cannot structure art. Culture can not be created on command. You can't say 'Good. Begin. Now make something. " The ex-Cárcel is not beautiful in itself. It's sublime. From it surges a sense of beauty and fear, wonder and amazement and revulsion. It is a torturous love, and the city of Valparaíso is the same. Valparaíso is a different kind of paradise from what most would expect.
The very idea of taking an old prison and turning it into a mecca of art, theater and music is quite revolutionary and gives new meaning to the past. It is, somehow, a place that honors the past while at the same time the clandestine character of the city. The ex-Cárcel and all that it represents are the kind of things that define a city, and the type of things that many people are jealous of.
Even while traveling in other cities around the world, I have never found places like the ex-Cárcel, and now they tell me that someone decided to get rid of not-very-kosher building and replace it with a cookie-cutter clean one. If a demolition crane helped in the destruction of the ex-Cárcel it would be a blow to all the people of Valparaíso, and a message that they want to convert Valparaíso into another generic big city like many others in the world.
23 January 2009
thinking about tahini sauce
a black man with a beautiful voice sang a song as he walked under my window just now. he will never know i heard him, but i am very glad that i did...
mr. president, mr. president
january 20 was, for me, a high and a low.
i regret not having written about this sooner, while it was freshest in my mind, but not having a personal computer and the presence of several pairs of over-shoulder eyes are a pretty strong deterrent for me. rob, micah and i woke up tuesday later than we'd planned. left fairfax (finally) at 10 and arrived at the national mall at 11:15, just in time to penguin up and waddle to a spot near a giant jumbotron. during the hour-long metro ride to D.C. i’d had nothing to hold on to but rob's shoulder and a stranger's back. that made no difference though, since there was no way i could have fallen. too many people packed into that tube for anyone to fall over.
i wondered: how long would it take this many humans to convert all the oxygen in this train to carbon dioxide?
the ceremony itself both disgusted me and filled me with an incredible sense of empowerment. each time the giant tv's showed george bush, the whole mall booed. a collective display of verbal insult at one of the most important ceremonies that takes place in our country. why was this necessary? i'm not a gw fan, but i certainly will not publicly humiliate the man. especially in the last minutes of his presidency, when it no longer matters. i was ashamed.
just after we had chosen our outpost, i left the friends. with a camera on each shoulder, i walked and weaved through masses of people. i'd hoped to come home from this with a couple of portfolio-worthy shots, but i was intensely frustrated when the typical news shots seemed to be nowhere to be found. flags waved, kids sat hoisted upon dads’ shoulders, every face gleamed with so much pride. it was there, i just wasn’t seeing it.
after a while, i decided to rejoin my friends and participate in the inauguration as a citizen, not a photographer.
during the ceremony, all i could see were the heads of those surrounding me and the jumbotron a few dozen meters ahead. but no matter, i was there, a part of history. that’s what i’d come for. whoops of joy and ‘amen’s echoed around me as, with teary eyes, i watched my president being sworn in.
perhaps my favorite part of all, though, came after most people had already begun walking toward the mall’s exits. my compatriots and i gawked at all the trash on the ground and wondered how people could have trashed the space so well in one morning. i noticed a lone girl carrying a trash bag and decided to follow suit. as more people saw what was happening, more took the initiative to join in. in less than five minutes, all the trash in the area had been collected into a few bags and i was touched by the teamwork of complete strangers. working together to make change!
it took at least an hour to get off the mall. this was a surprisingly calm process, as was everything else that day, but i was glad to be out of the mess.
we worked our way through all the various monuments and memorials that inhabit the space between the lincoln memorial and the washington monument. took many photos, found left-behind scarves and gloves (some keepers!) and i placed my tiny flag in front of the vietnam memorial. i have so much respect for that place, and i credit it all to reading rainbow's episode about its creator.
after pizza and much more walking, we metroed back to fairfax, said a quick goodbye to the friends we'd stayed with, and got on the road, saying to ourselves the whole time that we were simply so glad we'd made the trip.
i regret not having written about this sooner, while it was freshest in my mind, but not having a personal computer and the presence of several pairs of over-shoulder eyes are a pretty strong deterrent for me. rob, micah and i woke up tuesday later than we'd planned. left fairfax (finally) at 10 and arrived at the national mall at 11:15, just in time to penguin up and waddle to a spot near a giant jumbotron. during the hour-long metro ride to D.C. i’d had nothing to hold on to but rob's shoulder and a stranger's back. that made no difference though, since there was no way i could have fallen. too many people packed into that tube for anyone to fall over.
i wondered: how long would it take this many humans to convert all the oxygen in this train to carbon dioxide?
the ceremony itself both disgusted me and filled me with an incredible sense of empowerment. each time the giant tv's showed george bush, the whole mall booed. a collective display of verbal insult at one of the most important ceremonies that takes place in our country. why was this necessary? i'm not a gw fan, but i certainly will not publicly humiliate the man. especially in the last minutes of his presidency, when it no longer matters. i was ashamed.
just after we had chosen our outpost, i left the friends. with a camera on each shoulder, i walked and weaved through masses of people. i'd hoped to come home from this with a couple of portfolio-worthy shots, but i was intensely frustrated when the typical news shots seemed to be nowhere to be found. flags waved, kids sat hoisted upon dads’ shoulders, every face gleamed with so much pride. it was there, i just wasn’t seeing it.
after a while, i decided to rejoin my friends and participate in the inauguration as a citizen, not a photographer.
during the ceremony, all i could see were the heads of those surrounding me and the jumbotron a few dozen meters ahead. but no matter, i was there, a part of history. that’s what i’d come for. whoops of joy and ‘amen’s echoed around me as, with teary eyes, i watched my president being sworn in.
perhaps my favorite part of all, though, came after most people had already begun walking toward the mall’s exits. my compatriots and i gawked at all the trash on the ground and wondered how people could have trashed the space so well in one morning. i noticed a lone girl carrying a trash bag and decided to follow suit. as more people saw what was happening, more took the initiative to join in. in less than five minutes, all the trash in the area had been collected into a few bags and i was touched by the teamwork of complete strangers. working together to make change!
it took at least an hour to get off the mall. this was a surprisingly calm process, as was everything else that day, but i was glad to be out of the mess.
we worked our way through all the various monuments and memorials that inhabit the space between the lincoln memorial and the washington monument. took many photos, found left-behind scarves and gloves (some keepers!) and i placed my tiny flag in front of the vietnam memorial. i have so much respect for that place, and i credit it all to reading rainbow's episode about its creator.
after pizza and much more walking, we metroed back to fairfax, said a quick goodbye to the friends we'd stayed with, and got on the road, saying to ourselves the whole time that we were simply so glad we'd made the trip.
17 January 2009
who sells bathing suits in january?
i dream of the day when my laptop's hard drive is large enough to hold a few of my pictures! they all live on an external right now, it's a little bit frustrating. everything takes longer.
in a few hours i'm leaving with rob and a few others (maybe a few, maybe one.. a surprise for the morning) por D.C.! the magnitude of what this inauguration will be is something my mind just can't fathom. how many millions of people will be there? man. anyway, i am totally pumped for it. my clothes are not nearly warm enough but what the hell? someone and i decided that this could potentially be the woodstock of our generation. when our kids someday ask "were you at obama's inauguration?" we dont want to have to tell them no. plus, what a big deal. i just want to watch everyone else who's there. i certainly do not expect to see obama, even on one of the imaginary tvs they've got set up.
this afternoon as i was driving along jack warner pkwy, the golden pre-sunset light made the barren trees on the other side of the river glow like a baby's mama should. i got so caught up in watchingthe trees and their reflections that i drifted into the next lane... luckily there was no one right next to me. phew!
in a few hours i'm leaving with rob and a few others (maybe a few, maybe one.. a surprise for the morning) por D.C.! the magnitude of what this inauguration will be is something my mind just can't fathom. how many millions of people will be there? man. anyway, i am totally pumped for it. my clothes are not nearly warm enough but what the hell? someone and i decided that this could potentially be the woodstock of our generation. when our kids someday ask "were you at obama's inauguration?" we dont want to have to tell them no. plus, what a big deal. i just want to watch everyone else who's there. i certainly do not expect to see obama, even on one of the imaginary tvs they've got set up.
this afternoon as i was driving along jack warner pkwy, the golden pre-sunset light made the barren trees on the other side of the river glow like a baby's mama should. i got so caught up in watchingthe trees and their reflections that i drifted into the next lane... luckily there was no one right next to me. phew!
11 January 2009
can a cat come on a date? please?
what an interesting day.
i began by finishing the first chapter of The Artist's Way, a book i'm reading for a class. neat stuff. it's all about unblocking your creative side and discovering new outlets for creativity. hey, we could all use some of that. i'm especially hopeful about this, as it might be a kind of guiding
voice to motivate me while i'm trying to really get back into photo like i want to be. i just don't get excited about it anymore like i used to. of course, there will be times, like today while the sun was setting, when i have the inspiration to pick up my camera. but most days... no. that is not something i like admitting to myself or anyone but it's the truth. i need to find a story, something to focus on. the problem is i'm thinking about it too much. it shouldn't be that way.
good good.
[everyone should go here. Ave Maria Grotto in Cullman, Ala. a monk spent his life making cement sculptures of buildings. they're incredible.]
i began by finishing the first chapter of The Artist's Way, a book i'm reading for a class. neat stuff. it's all about unblocking your creative side and discovering new outlets for creativity. hey, we could all use some of that. i'm especially hopeful about this, as it might be a kind of guiding
voice to motivate me while i'm trying to really get back into photo like i want to be. i just don't get excited about it anymore like i used to. of course, there will be times, like today while the sun was setting, when i have the inspiration to pick up my camera. but most days... no. that is not something i like admitting to myself or anyone but it's the truth. i need to find a story, something to focus on. the problem is i'm thinking about it too much. it shouldn't be that way.good good.
[everyone should go here. Ave Maria Grotto in Cullman, Ala. a monk spent his life making cement sculptures of buildings. they're incredible.]
04 January 2009
keys to your place
the rain is coming down hard tonight, cat's going nutty because of the thunder and lightning.
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