THESE ARE THE DAYS

I went to Matt Stokes` art show These Are the Days yesterday for about an hour, and was getting into it, but felt twitchy like I was getting outta a Time Machine. Many old flyers (some yellowing and fragile) were displayed from the PUNK DAYS, as well as Fanzines, such as Sluggo and Contempo Culture. I saw fragments of an old guitar...don`t know what that was? Some of the 45 rpm singles that came out from that time were displayed also.

My favorite aspect was the television sets that were set up to show, I believe, 8 millimeter films of some of the local punks just fooling around, simply dittling around in Austin somewhere (maybe by the University or on Guadalupe...don`t know). I recognized some of the faces, but couldn`t really put together who they were? This may be a good thing. This isn`t odd though, because I was living in Dallas in 1978, and managed a Baskin Robbins Ice Cream Store at Preston/Royal. I actually wrote parts of Magnum Lust (the Norvells` song) back in the stock room where we kept malt cups, straws, sundae dishes, and cake boxes also. Oh, the film of the Re*Cords was an eyeopener! Bert Cruz had on shades and played the accordian and had on that striped shirt I remember just like Mr. Peppermint. Doug and Tom and Lynn waxed electric too.

I didn`t take everything in, but felt like I was taking a step back in time...not that I really wanted to go there? I felt nervous as if I was at Roswell or Area 54...can`t say why really? The new punk film was a little loud and I felt like I was watching a parody of the old punk bands. Maybe a sort of Spinal Tap one off to punk? I don`t think the simulation really reflected back on the period, in a way that I remember it. That may bot be saying much? I could have used some historical context too. Things like the Son of Sam shootings, Jimmy Carter`s haircut, the Iranian Hostages, Billy Beer, and the gas crisis would put this period in a national context. This could have been a little corner with newspaper clippings, where people could go hah hah...that`s what was going on nationally at the time...1978 or 1979. But that`s my own little brainstorm, folks.

I`ll try to go back and take a camera (my Polaroid One600/Ultra fur sure)...I`m certain my perspective will change...it was very cool...good job Matt...I just feel lucky to still be alive in 2009! The punk movement was just a fad, but it still holds some importance...what that importance is is what I`m still trying to determine? Maybe it was just an adolescent initiation rite, nothin` more.

It`s too early (6:34 AM-1/26/`09) to dig into my boxes for flyers (I actually have a few myself somewhere?), so I`ll just put my Gut Shot piece up...it`s as punk as anything else I have!

CHE GUEVARA AS POP ART-THE PURPLE EDITION

CHE GUEVARA AS POP ART by John G.Kays

I am looking forward to the movie Che by Steven Soderbergh, but I know it will take its time in coming to Austin. In the mean time I have been studying up on Che Guevara and am noticing a curious thing about how he is portrayed in Pop Art. Most of the interpretations of him, by way of graphic art, come from one photograph taken by Alberto Korda on March 5th, 1960. Different versions of this same image abound, with the colors, texture, or lay-out only varying slightly from one item of art or another . This Korda photograph is essentially Che Guevara as Pop Art proliferated throughout many different mediums. Why? Probably because people prefer its simplicity and the easy access of identification that can be obtained with the Communist Revolutionary/Saint that we call Che, so much revered by so many. This is my theory anyway.

The iconic photo was taken at a memorial service for the La Coubre ship explosion in the harbor of Havana. Alberto Korda went back to his darkroom and developed it and knew immediately that it was the ultimate Che image, and he was certainly correct. An Italian publisher, Giangiacomo Feltrinelli got the rights to the photo in 1967, on a hunch that Guevara would die soon, and then produced a poster that sold 2,000,000 copies in a half year. I have seen news footage of the students holding the posters up high during the Paris Protests of May 1968. You can see them clearly carrying these posters along with ones of Ho Chi Minh in El Che: Investigating a Legend. Korda just wanted to remain true to the anti-capitalist spirit of Ernesto Guevara, remain true to Che`s sincerity, his heartfelt commitment to Socialism; for had Korda retained the rights to his photo he would have been wealthy beyond belief!

When I look at the Korda image of Che I think of the graphic artist Shepard Fairey`s image of Barack Obama which is everywhere I look. I have seen it used on political placards, stickers, and even on the cover of Time Magazine. His previous stickers of Andre the Giant (Obey) are all over town, on street signs, light posts, and on the walls of buildings. I LOVE to see Andre`s mug and also it might not hurt that I once saw The Giant wrestling live at The Sportatorium in Dallas many, many years ago. How do you account for the popularity of Fairey`s clever little graphics? The simplicity and humor may be the reason. Similarly, Che has the beret and shaggy hair-he seems to personify revolutionary virility and defiance.I try to project myself into the frame, even though I`m just a wimpy little nobody with husky dreams. What do you think?

What is stunning to me is the fact that many people in Latin American countries have this image preciously mounted on their walls, simulating a religious icon, say a Christ icon or possibly it is a mirror of Milagros that could bring a body good luck. In my Che Handbook I have seen this image as a mural on a brickwall in Belfast, and I`ve seen it printed on a wine bottle, a cigarette pack, and even on a carrying bag. There`s a striking statue by Delarra in the Che Guevarra Revolution Square in Santa Clara, Cuba. Luis Martínez Pedro`s “Che America” is Warholesque with multiple single-colored prints of the Korda photo juxtaposed on one poster. There are scads of other examples as well.

I was curious about this proliferation of Che paraphernalia, so yesterday (January 17th) I visited a local retail import shop myself, Tesoros Trading Company on South Congress Avenue, here in Austin. They have souvenirs and novelties from around the world, but they specialize in items from Latin American countries. I marveled at two kinds of Tee-shirts, Che postcards, gigantic mousepads, refrigerator magnets, and pricey original posters from Cuba, commemorating the Revolution. Only Frida Kahlo merchandise was more ubiquitous. This stuff sells like hotcakes! Believe it or not, exclusively, all of the Che ephemera in the shop used the famous Alberto Korda photograph, no exceptions.

This may seem somewhat childish, but I tried my own hand at some Che pop art. First I printed out a Photostat of the Korda photo on Kodak photo paper, then I painted it with acrylics such as yellow ochre, antique brown, cadmium yellow, raw sienna, and lots of burnt umber. Oh, I used some orange, tan, and red also. I let it dry, sprayed it with Krylon Crystal Clear, scanned it, and then tweaked it slightly on Adobe Photoshop Elements 2.0, then saved it on My Documents, and now here it is! Bingo, I`m a fantastic Che artist myself now, or amateur artist anyway. Whoop-di-do right? The idea behind this was Instant Karma, immediate gratification, FRIENDO! Who knows, maybe thousands will see my Che art on NEWSBLAZE?

Still with the demise of the Soviet Union in 1989 and the present near collapse of Communist Cuba (don`t forget Castro`s close demise) the question remains: why do so many people persevere in worshiping this simple graphic? Does it provide hope for poor people? Yes. Do people still idealize this earlier Communist era, though it is now in shambles? Yes. Maybe people just like the simplicity of it. Maybe people like to worship political martyrs too, like JFK, MLK, and CHE. I know I do. I have a portrait of JFK on my wall and pray daily to the American Saint. I do not know why really. People watch The Motorcycle Diaries over and over again. I have seen it five times and have loved it every time. The Korda shot is a NOSTALGIC TALISMAN that people grab on to, like the ‘Hope’ poster of Obama by Shepard Fairey. The cult of Che will never die out! I`m not a Communist people, but I can not stop staring at this Che icon!

CHE GUEVARA AS POP ART

CHE GUEVARA AS POP ART by John G.Kays

I am looking forward to the movie Che by Steven Soderbergh, but I know it will take its time in coming to Austin. In the mean time I have been studying up on Che Guevara and am noticing a curious thing about how he is portrayed in pop art. Most of the interpretations of him, by way of graphic art, come from one photograph taken by Alberto Korda on March 5th, 1960. Different versions of this same image abound, with the colors, texture, or lay out only varying slightly. This Korda photograph is essentially Che Guevara as pop art proliferated in many mediums. Why? Probably because people prefer its simplicity and the easy access of identification that can be obtained with the Communist Revolutionary/Saint that is called Che, so much revered by so many. This is my theory anyway.

The iconic photo was taken at a memorial service for the La Coubre ship explosion in the harbor of Havana. Alberto Korda went back to his darkroom and developed it and knew immediately that it was the ultimate Che image, and he was certainly correct. An Italian publisher, Giangiacomo Feltrinelli got the rights to the photo in 1967, on a hunch that Guevara would die soon, and then produced a poster that sold 2,000,000 copies in a half year. I have seen news footage of the students holding the posters up high during the Paris Protests of May 1968. You can see them clearly carrying these posters along with ones of Ho Chi Minh in El Che: Investigating a Legend. Korda just wanted to remain true to the anti-capitalist spirit of Ernesto Guevara, or the sincerity of his commitment to socialism; for had Korda retained the rights to his photo he would have been wealthy beyond belief!

When I look at the Korda image of Che I think of the graphic artist Shepard Fairey`s image of Barack Obama is everywhere. I have seen it on political placards, stickers, and even on the cover of Time Magazine. His previous stickers of Andre the Giant (Obey) are all over town, on street signs, light posts, and on the walls of buildings. I LOVE to see Andre and also it might not hurt that I once saw The Giant wrestling live at The Sportatorium in Dallas many years ago. How do you account for the popularity of Fairey`s cute little graphics? The simplicity and humor may be the reason. Similarly, Che has the beret and shaggy hair-he seems to personify revolutionary virility and defiance.I try to project myself into the frame, even though I`m just a wimpy little nobody with husky dreams. What do you think?

What is stunning is the fact that many people in Latin American countries have this image preciously mounted on their walls, simulating a religious icon, or possibly mirrors of Milagros that could bring a body good luck. In my Che Handbook I have seen this image as a mural on a brickwall in Belfast, and I`ve seen it printed on a wine bottle, a cigarette pack, and even on a carrying bag. There`s a striking statue by Delarra in the Che Guevarra Revolution Square in Santa Clara, Cuba. Luis Martínez Pedro`s “Che America” is Warholesque with multiple single-colored prints of the Korda photo juxtaposed on one poster. There are countless other examples as well.

I was curious about this proliferation of Che paraphernalia, so yesterday (January 17th) I visited a local retail import shop myself, Tesoros Trading Company on South Congress Avenue, here in Austin. They have souvenirs and novelties from around the world, but they specialize in items from Latin American countries. I saw two kinds of Tee-shirts, Che postcards, gigantic mousepads, refrigerator magnets, and pricey original posters from Cuba. Only Frida Kaylo merchandise was more ubiquitous. This stuff sells like hotcakes! Believe it or not, exclusively, all of the ephemera in the shop used the famous Alberto Korda photograph, no exceptions.

This may seem somewhat childish, but I tried my own hand at some Che pop art. First I printed out a Photostat of the Korda photo on Kodak photo paper, then I painted it with acrylics such as yellow ochre, antique brown, cadmium yellow, raw sienna, and lots of burnt umber. Oh, I used some orange, tan, and red also. I let it dry, scanned it, and then tweaked it slightly on Adobe Photoshop Elements 2.0, then saved it on My Documents, and now here it is! Bingo, I`m a fantastic Che artist myself now, or amateur artist anyway. Whoop-di-do right? The idea behind this was Instant Karma, immediate gratification, FRIENDO! Who knows, maybe thousands will see my Che art on NEWSBLAZE?

Still with the demise of the Soviet Union in 1989 the question remains: why do so many people worship this simple graphic? Does it provide hope for poor people? Yes. Do people still idealize this earlier Communist era, though it is now in shambles? Yes. Maybe people just like the simplicity of it. Maybe people like to worship political martyrs too, like JFK, MLK, and CHE. I know I do. I have a portrait of JFK on my wall and at times, practically worship it. I do not know why really. People watch The Motorcycle Diaries over and over again. I have seen it five times and have loved it every time. The Korda shot is a NOSTALGIC TALISMAN that people grab on to, like the ‘Hope’ poster of Obama by Shepard Fairey. The cult of Che will never die out! I`m not Communist people, but I can not stop staring at this Che icon!

MY YUCATAN VACATION

MY TRIP TO THE YUCATÁN: MÉRIDA, CHICHÉN ITZÁ, AND ISLA MUJERES by John G. Kays

Pressed Rat and Warthog have closed down their shop.
They didn`t want to; twas all they got.
Selling atonal apples, amplified heat,
And Pressed Rat`s collection of dog legs and feet.

Sadly they left, telling no one goodbye.
Pressed Rat wore red jodhpurs, Warthog a striped tie.
Between them, they carried a three-legged sack,
Went straight round the corner and never came back.
*(Ginger Baker-Cream-Wheels of Fire)

There is more forgotten than remembered when you confabulate the record of my fabulous vacation to the Yucatán. I do know that it was in 1975, but exactly which month or day I can not be too certain. Let the commencements begin, the tracings of that journey, the jotting down of memories in a marble memopad. Some of the proceedings were recollected, but some have been forfeited at the blood-soaked altar of Quetzalcóatl. It`s through these feeble Don Quixote eyes that I now bring back those days of this godsend of a holiday. Herein is the testimony of a reconstituted conquistador who heard and saw unspeakable marvels of the New World, and will spin you a tale that will make your eyeballs pop out! Let`s see here…where`s my marble memopad?

We flew into Mérida that clear day, so many years ago, found the historic El Gran Hotel, and ventured out to a local mercado for ropas of a casual nature. I was traveling with Bill and Dennis, two cosmic cronies game for an adventure or two, and knew how to enjoy life. We picked up straw sombreros, huarache sandals, tiki shirts, and postcards to send to friends. Don`t forget the Foster Grants de rigueur to shade our dainty gringo eyes. I am sorry I can`t retrieve a leftover Polaroid of us, but you can picture The Trio if you put your mind to it. In the evening we took in a cantina or two with zesty Mexican jukeboxes and dancing dervishes; don`t leave out the sizzling peanuts or the shots of tequila. We planned our trip meticulously. It looked like a fun one was in store for us.

In the morning we sipped coffee and read the Spanish newspapers. The pace was slow. We ate pastelería. My friends smoked cigarillos, curling smoke drifts to the ceiling. We were doing nothin`, just as planned. We seemed to swat a lot of flies. Then the three of us took in a Mexican cine, then more cafes, picked up some tasty snacks, and yet more drifting on calles, soakin` in the indigents. We kept gliding by the Cathedral on the Plaza Mayor; it was a magnet for all, peasants were couched against the walls hoping for a miracle. It never came.


A few words about what we ate. We ate lots of hand foods from cheerful street vendors. Simple hand foods are hot and tasty, muy barato también. A good many tacos pescados and maybe some papadzules. We devoured scads of grilled fish and shellfish on the island. The Trio was always on the fly. Found friendly lancherías. Loafed in the open-aired patios and walkways. Washed the cottonmouth down with aguas frescas. Napped on hammocks. Heard the ocean breath. Gulped Mexican cerveza (Montejo). Lots of it. The pain went away. Yes, simple hand foods got us by, doused with ample chile sauce. Yea, buckets of El Yucateco.

The very next day, bright and early, we departed by bus for the ruins of Chichén Itzá. The seventy-five mile ride was rickety but interesting. I saw Mayan people tending corn or grilling meats on sticks in open pits. They wore beautiful clothing. When we finally arrived my stomach was queasy, hair disheveled, and my frame rearranged. You might infer, we exited the bus a little unsteady. As we entered the ruins a vibe glowed both inside and outside of us. Looking out, cactus plants and jungle growth painted a desert scene. Clean green iguanas dashed out of nowhere and grazed our feet. I thought I heard the lament of Mayan ancestors. A sadness came over me. I stepped out for more. There was no turning back.

El Castillo is an awesome sight to behold as the trio took the 79 foot trek up to the top; it is 91 excruciating steps up to the platform apex. It was the cruel Bishop Landa that named it; he is the Spanish priest who tortured the Mayans as heretics and burned a good many of their coveted codices. The pyramid is dedicated to Kukulcán, a feather serpent. This is the same god worshipped by Moctezuma, but the Aztecs called him Quetzalcóatl. I was tuckered out after I climbed up all those steps. Scary serpent heads are on cornices and on the sides of the inner temple. A cool red jaguar was up there too, but I have no lucidity in that regard. The Chac Mool image near these words came from this inner room atop El Castillo, but currently resides in the National Museum of Anthropology in Mexico City.

It is said that at the spring and fall equinoxes a shadow of the snake god crawls down the side the pyramid sanctifying the earth. Chichén Itzá was populated with spiritual adventurers during the “Harmonic Convergence” of August 1987. I attended a party/ceremony myself in Dallas during these ‘final days’, and felt the coming together, the big breath of humanity exhaling. Dr. Arguelles, a New Age visionary, designed this scheme to counter catastrophic apocalyptic outcomes inherent in the Mayan calendar. In his own words, the goal was: “to bless and heal Planet Earth, to unite with all of life, and to raise the human spirit through a single collective human experience.” Okay, I felt something!

Yes, you do feel a presence, a vibe, as you stagger about these ruins of mystery. Did a UFO come from outer space and take the Mayans away? ‘A UFO went whirling through my mind.’ Or have I read too many Weekly World News articles? That`s a possibility! But I love the Chac Mool, even if the Mayan high priests did place the yet still beating human hearts of sacrificial victims on his limestone pot-belly. And it poner los pelos del punta when I stared at the skulls engraved on the walls of Tzompantli. The heads of sacrificed captors were actually displayed on these walls. Okay, maybe Mel Gibson did get it right in the heart extraction and head chopping scenes of Apocalypto!

I pondered the “Cenote Sagrado” for many moments. A sinkhole that honored the Maya rain god Chaac, it was a vital conduit to the gods. Mayans had flocked to it as a shrine. Water was a rarity for the Mayans. This water was emerald green. I trembled as I imagined what had transpired there. The bottom held gold, jade, and even human skeletons. I wondered where the exact spot was from hence the sacrifice suppliants had leapt? The Caracol is an astrological observatory; The Trinity strolls around, and Bill said: “Weren`t there a few Star Trek episodes shot here?” “Sure,” Dennis retorted, “And George and Jane Jetson (Astro too) came here with Fred and Wilma Flintstone for a ménage à trois (quartet rather) weekend fling.” It wasn`t all business as usual.

The excursion continued. “Hey look,” I said, “there`s the incredible Las Monjas (The Nunnery),” named as such by the Spanish, with ornate lattice work and scary masks, very baroque, yet purely pagan. Let me take a moment to link you to this perfect site for photos of Chichén Itzá (hit tour). It is done by Jorge Pérez de Lara and will place you directly on this enchanting archaeological site. Don`t forget to take a stroll down Juego de Pelota, the largest ball court in Mesoamerica, and check out the acoustics. “I`m pooped out,” whined Bill, “let`s high tale it back to the El Gran Hotel!” Thus spoke Zarathustra.

When we arose in the morning light we took a bus north to Progreso in order to catch a boat to Isla Mujeres or “island of women.” We traveled east on the Golfo de México to the northeastern most tip of the Yucatán peninsula. Isla is just north of the Riviera Maya (Cozumel) in the Caribbean Sea. Isla Mujeres is extremely laid back and we had some gentle idle hours in her care. A mermaid spirit still haunts the coves and beaches. ‘Catacombs, nursery bones, winter women throwing stones, carrying babies to the river.’ *(Soft Parade-Jim Morrison)

What did we do there? Next to nothing. WE did manage to rent some mopads for an entire day, then rode across the island several times over. Oh I just remembered! We met a couple from California; we hung out with them and marveled at this simple set up. Obviously, this stood out in stark relief to our tethered lives in the states. Lots of naps were had. Hit the hammocks, watched the waves, ate pescado delicioso, and counted the grains of sand in the hourglass that marked our passing. Then The Trio had to go.

There is a devotion present on the isle towards Ixchel, the Mayan goddess of rainbows, the moon, and the sea. ‘On a lyre gentle tones she plays.’ Furthermore, it is known that pirates, such as Sir Henry Morgan and Jean Lafitte used it as a launching pad for their campaigns of robbery on the neighboring high seas. Thus, they would leave their ladies behind to secure and nurture their sandy makeshift homes. These lady legends are a canopy of zippity-do-da for this peaceful paradise.

Our trip was nearing its end. A numbness came over us and we splashed agua frio in our faces, then crawled on the boat back to Progreso. Then the bumpy bus ride back to Mérida, our faces green and stomachs turned upside down from the gyrations, the bobbing and weaving, or the hairpin turns around molehills and bends. Hey, people were throwing up. That`s not pretty, but the bus was old and decrepit, so I remember it being like Hunter S. Thompson in Fear and Loathing In Las Vegas. It`s not going to matter all that much if it wasn`t really like that.

Okay, then the plane flight back to Houston. I was exhausted, but now another bus trip back to Austin. I was broke so I bummed a little dough from Bill, who always seemed to have lots of it. Bill was somewhat peeved with me over this. “Stage Door Johnny, you`re going to pay me back, aren`t ya?”, Bill sternly clamored. After this famous trip dudes would go to Bill to borrow money, since he was a good business man, and always had wheel barrels of cash that he carted around. Okay, I bid farewell to my buddies and ambled back to my crash pad for some R & R.

The next day I reluctantly had to beg for my old job back at the Garden Café, the one and only organic restaurant in Austin at that time (1975). “Rick, no one chops carrots or pilots the Autochlor Automatic Dishwasher as good as me,” I blurted. I was a kitchen worker and yes, Rick let me have my old job back. I dreamed of sunny beaches and Mayan festivals as I scrubbed one more mammoth cooking pot.

I bet you are puzzled by the inclusion of the lyrics by Cream at the beginning of my piece and at the end. The book ending of two verses sung by the drummer Ginger Baker are provided as architectonic seals. You may be asking what`s their connection to the Mayans and how does this tie in with my antique vacation? Needless to say, every time I hear this song I experience different glimmers of meaning, shifting prisms of self-realization. Pressed Rat and Warthog could be spitting images of my two old friends. This is not a put down. Obviously, I`m the bad Captain Madman, because I used that moniker freely back in the day when I was a working musician.

“Went straight round the corner and never came back.” What this says to me is that it has been many years since I have seen these departed compadres. They vanished into thin air. Disappeared into the night. Don`t know if they`re wearing concrete army boots at the bottom of some lake? Could be…hum…No, halos `round their heads, I`m certain of it. On the other hand, this simple rhyme could just as easily be a vision for the distant Mayans. They evaporated more than a thousand years ago. Where did they go? Were the Mayans aliens who returned to their planet in a distant galaxy? So what that I used an easy hand in my interpretations!

What can be gleaned from this morass? A lifelong love of Mayan studies? Yes (see Yes Man for how to do this). Theories of the Mayan collapse? Yes. Read David Webster. Internecine warfare, drought, corn crops gone? Yes. Ecological imbalances? Yes. A peasant rebellion against the Royal elites? Yes. Excessive sacrifices at the altar of Chaac? Yes. Parallels with Al Gore`s global warming? Yes. Interplanetary travel in UFOs? Likely. Finally, yes to Frederick Catherwood for the essential lithographs that are oh so romantic and real! Yes, for keeping me in the driver`s seat of Mayan studies. Yes, cornball head, and I`m out to lunch!

A real lesson learned: All I was doing on this trip was just being happy. Communing with nature. Just existing. Having friends too. Channeling Mayan rubble. Getting nowhere. Creo que deberé refrescar la memoria a Juan. Yea, there is much that I no longer remember about that Yucatán vacation. But I came away believing that one should just live their life, not think about it. No interpretation really matters. I`m SKULL-FUCKED, my fair weathered friends! HAPPY NEW YEARS! Beware of MAYA (George Harrison).

*I must give credits to Wikipedia, Fodor`s 2009 guide to the Yucatán, scads of web sites, a Spanish idiom book, countless other books on the Mayans, The New York Times archives, my vacant parking lot of a memory, and The Dynamic Duo, wherever they might be? “You can not petition The Lord with prayer!” Jim M. Let it wail, Doors! And now two more verses of Cream:

Pressed Rat and Warthog have closed down their shop.
The bad Captain Madman had told them to stop
Selling atonal apples, amplified heat,
And Pressed Rat`s collection of dog legs and feet.

The bad Captain Madman had ordered their fate.
He laughed and stomped off with a nautical gate.
The gate turned into a deroga tree
And his pegleg got woodworm and broke into three.