Marcel reached for the meta version of art, and inserted ready-made works into view, which captured attention, and shifted the language game. But that observation, that realization, like Heisenberg, constrained his forward momentum: dust gathering on the glass, owned, shattered glass like Pollock, owned, intention as something tangible, owned, but never finished. No tags for… Continue reading
So in class we sometimes come across a word in English that needs to get translated to Chinese, like today when I was talking about Chomsky’s idea of illegitimate authority being dismantled (it’s a class on conservation ethics). And when that happens I usually ask people to look it up on their cell phone dictionaries,… Continue reading
Blues is the root of all western music, it’s bedrock from which all other forms evolved. Dub is the conclusion, the ultimate destination or that trajectory. Within that paradigm, everything arises, emptiness before and after. Mother Africa and daughter Caribbean. No tags for this post.
I’ve been listening to a lot of Toots recently, after his recent passing, and thinking about him. I asked Toots once what Maytals meant, and he said “you know, Maytal, like ital” (I-tal was the Iyaric word for “vital” — as in the vegan sense). All three of them, Raleigh, Jerry, and Toots, grew up… Continue reading
Minnie’s Can-Do club was on Fillmore, at the corner of Wilmot alley where O’Napes and Bluebird had a place. Debbie Chicago lived up on California, around the corner from Dunkin’ Donuts with its SFPD cars outside. Up the street from what was soon to be Ruel’s Kingston Records, where I found the scene that led… Continue reading