LA Eastside

“A Prayer for Juarez” has been a month long of international events raising awareness on the Femicides in Juarez, Mexico. After the slaying of three embassy workers this past weekend in Ciudad Juarez this tragic situation intensifies.  Filmmaker/Producer Dianna Perez is hosting two evenings of FREE film screenings  March 19 & March 20 at Casa 0101 Annex, 2102 1st Street, Boyle Heights. These films are rare and hard to get a hold of, and really amazing.  We invite you to join us!

Friday, March 19th, 8:00 pm
Senorita Extraviada by Lourdes Portillo
Missing Young Woman tells the story of the hundreds of kidnapped, raped and murdered young women of Juárez, Mexico. The murders first came to light in 1993 and young women continue to “disappear” to this day. The evening begins with a short film Sangre y Arena by Rigo Maldonado & Shakina Nayfack, followed by Q&A. This art film shot on location in Lote Bravo (a cotton field irrigation ditch) where 8 women were found at one time in 2001.

Saturday, March 20th, 8:00 pm
Border Echoes by Lorena Mendez Quiroga
Border Echoes-Ecos De Una Frontera, is a documentary that tells the story of the slayings of girls and women in Ciudad Juarez, Mexico, through the eyes of investigative reporter Diana Washington Valdez. [Save the date! Award winning El Paso Times reporter Diana Washington Valdez will present in person at Casa 0101 Annex on March 27, 8pm) The evening begins with a short performance called Cihuatl 15 by endy and a screening of Sangre y Arena.
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~A message I read on my way to work on the bus ~

A poem by Abelardo “Lalo” Delgado

stupid america, see that chicano
with a big knife
on his steady hand
he doesn’t want to knife you
he wants to sit on a bench
and carve christfigures
but you won’t let him.
stupid america, hear that chicano
shouting curses on the street
he is a poet
without paper and pencil
and since he cannot write
he will explode.
stupid america, remember that chicanito
flunking math and english
he is a picasso
of your western states
but he will die
with one thousand masterpieces
hanging only from his mind.

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One of the first lessons I learned about life back when I was a wee little Random Hero was that you had to rock the right shoes. I have two distinct memories etched in my psyche about this. I was in the third grade and my mom bought me a new pair of shoes from pay less. They were a pair of Raider shoes. They had the team colors, logo and everything and I remember friends telling me, “Aww cool. Raider shoes.” Later on in junior high I learned that you got clowned on for having pay less shoes because it implied your ass was po’. I remember being in gym class in junior high and these two guys were making fun of people for their looks and/or clothes. I was sitting down next to them minding my own business and one of the guys starts eye balling me. He looks me up and down and thinks about making fun of me, but the guy next to him looks me up and down too and stops at my feet. He see’s that I have some Jason Kidd Nikes and says, “nah he’s cool.” As shallow and materialistic as it is, having the right kind of shoes makes or breaks a person sometimes. For some of us, sneakers are way more than just things we wear because we need to, it’s an extension of who we are and what we represent.

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My uncle ray was a true veterano, a varrio legend. He escaped the oppressive climate that mexican indians endured in New Mexico in the 1930’s, as a young boy literally clinging to my grandma’s back. My abuela was his older sis, and she has  many a tale involving him being a baby tied to her back as they worked the fields in Nueva Mexico, then the central valle, then around the LA area.

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Not all art is about someone creating an object in passionate solitude, unveiling it at the trendiest gallery and selling it for (what would seem to most) an excessive price. Since 2001, I have been engaged in what I call art activism. Art activism is about pointing out something that is lacking in society in a more amplified way than just one painting or sculpture in a gallery. Perhaps in Picasso’s times his one painting of Guernica created that buzz, but in post modernism, we have to step up our game.

My current project began in the summer of 2009. It is called A Prayer for Juarez. If you feel that you have known and seen works on the murders in Juarez in excess—it has been due to a handful of artists who have vowed not let this art topic disappear until something is resolved for the people of Ciudad Juarez in Mexico. It’s not a Mexican-thing, it’s a humanitarian circumstance. When we come together to resist and witness an injustice, we create a dialogue within ourselves to begin to change the world hierarchy on what is valued. We do not have to accept matters, because they are not in our immediate sight. We are the guardians of all that lives on our planet and together have the power to stop any injustices. It begins with being informed.

During the month of March 2010, we will begin this dialogue through new works and voices in this art struggle against injustice. You are invited to attend these powerful exchanges of ideas through art, performance and testimony. Each week (here on LAeastside) look for our posts on A Prayer for Juarez. All events are free, except this Friday’s play (March 5) by Dr. Ana Nogales on human trafficking called “Don’t Call Me Baby”. All events take place in Josefina’s new theater space Casa 0101 in Boyle Heights, 2102 1st Street (corner of St. Louis), except “Don’t Call Me Baby” which is 1 block west at the smaller Casa 0101 Theater. Street parking is free (imagine that, in LA)! (more…)

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This morning I shuffled out of the house in my chànclas to bring in the morning newspaper and to bring a bite of breakfast to my favorite pet squirrel, Frank. As I bent to grab the paper, I happened to glance down on the sidewalk where I discovered a ghastly sight that filled me with disgust and horror…

WARNING! WARNING! The following images depict extreme carnage and gore of the: “ALARMA!” magazine kind. If any readers are prone to àsco and revulsion at such sights, STOP NOW! PLEASE DO NOT CLICK TO CONTINUE WITH THE REST OF THIS POST! You have been warned! proceed at your own risk…….ahi de ti!!………. (more…)

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When I was growing up in the magical neighborhood of Boyle Heights, Soto street was an end, a line that defined the practical limits of my universe. A block or two more to the West and you’d be crossing the river into El Centro, and unless you were on the bus with a few dollars and a reason, you just didn’t need to head in that direction. Everything you wanted to do was happening East of Soto. But  if you traveled along it, Soto St was also a way to quickly get to another part of the Eastside, namely up to Brooklyn Ave and that mitote of tiendas. Or you could head south to Huntington Park for even better deals on cheap clothes. In either case, Soto connected you to where you wanted to waste your weekend.

Nowadays I’ve mostly strayed away from this defining street but I’m quite sure it still functions as a psychogeographic barrier for those in BH. I still travel its distance quite often, noting the changes, trying to remember spots I should make a point to check out. Sometimes I bring along a camera.

Cross over to see some pics of life on or near Soto!

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Image stolen from El Chavo.

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When I started at RHS some years ago, I was surprised by the number of Punk kids. I expected a few Ramones heads but Mob 47 and Unholy Grave? It was a pleasant surprise. One morning I’m talking to a teacher in the R-building and this kid passes by and politely greets me. He’s wearing a Varukers t-shirt. I smile. This teacher makes a stupid crack about the kid. I didn’t laugh. The funny thing was I had the same t-shirt underneath my “work attire.” Why? Don’t you believe in One Struggle One Fight?
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