Posts Tagged ‘california’

Annete Garcia, as if Oscar Grant and Sean Bell weren’t enough pain to suffer this year.

Wednesday, January 28th, 2009

POLICE MURDER. MURDER. MURDER, MURDER, MURDER.

MUERTE. ASESINATO. ASESINATO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

This is NOT Police Brutality. This is Police MURDER.

Ok, so a few things that I was into when it comes to Riveside is that cops had consideration towards womyn. ALL womyn. even the craziest of cholas were kept safe to a degree in regards to their role as mothers. Another fool with a gun has decided to power trip on a womyn who was just looking a lil dangerous with a knife in her hand. Ok, so that fine and all, this is the type of situation when you take out your tazer and not a fucking GUN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! IN FRONT OF HER OWN CHILDREN. And then, if that wasn’t enough, let her BLEED TO DEATH. Riverside has GRIPP of hospitals and doctors, as UCR has a medical school program that works with these communitites. 

I DONT CARE if it’s the ghetto and you tell me these children have been around weapons all their lives. And that they probably have seen their faily members die all the time.

When you are supposed to be a role model citizen, a PEACE officer, you know, to keep it peaceful, it doesnt make sense that you’d go and shoot mother in the back as they run home for safety, WHO ARE YOU TO DECIDE who lives or dies after a domestic fist fight?? WTF Do you KNOW what the hell her husband had put her and her children through that she feels necessary to run after that asshole down the street with a knife? A KNIFE! seriously, it takes quite a bit of strength and determination to hurt another human being with a knife. Even if you throw it, the likelihood it will hit the jugular is slim to none. Especially if its dark out. Does this render the situation viable towards any type of gang warfare? HELL NO. Domestic disputes are that. not gang activity. I am so angry. And feeling so impotent. this fucking sucks. I’m too far to be able to accomplish anything effective >(.  

I love Riverside. It’s home, its playground, it’s where I learned most of my recent languages.  Please pass this on!

In the memory of Annete Garcia, VATALINA will LIVE ON!

 

http://www.indybay.org/newsitems/2009/01/26/18565741.php

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Meschan Breasts romping on a day of independence!

Friday, July 4th, 2008

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lEEn lIke a cHOLA LeEn LiKe A ChOlA // VATALINA’S BIRTHDAY

Monday, April 28th, 2008

leen leen like a chola

there comes a time in a womyn’s life when she decides the persona to become for the rest of her life. usually this is inherited in some way, passed on.

sometimes removal from natural environment or nationality affects the growth of such a womyn, and she creates her own idea of what persona means.

what happens when the womyn in question are determined to be and not to act?

womyn of color in southern california unite through a rather strange and interesting beauty canon which only the strongest and most powerful souls may wear.
this is not because of the time expense, but because of the simplicity of details of the face which based only on their form may express millions of ideas and concepts.

it is minimal makeup, which causes the strongest impression, as we can see through ancient history’s use of elements like eyeliner and hair removal. natural lines are removed and redrawn to create a new perfection.

a sought perfection of communication of personality is expressed as the lines are drawn. the higher, and more intense the brow, the tougher the chola.

the culture of the latina eyebrow, in my eyes, stems from the perception of innocence and frailty that the inherited father’s brow imposes on the girl. In spanish cultures of the colonised latin world, when the girl becomes a woman, her eyebrows delineate her beauty, thick fullness accompanies blushing cheeks and red lips as healthy as can be.
These days, this canon among latinas has changed to the current chola way of life, i suppose in rejection of colonialism and its ideals.

though beauty is not the only desired characteristic, neither the tough behaviour. cholas care about their kids, their lives, and most of all, their vatos locos.

Love is the ultimate answer!

i seek to explore the chola way of life and impress it onto UCR by drawing attention to the persona i will take on, and attempt to more faithfully represent it. i will not record the experience, but I will write accounts of contact and reactions.

i will love my persona as myself.

WHEN & WHERE

tuesday-friday this week = going to class, etc beein a chola

friday, may 2nd its Vatalina’s birthday

so meet me at the UCR belltower @ 2 for a chola kickback homieg

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chilena art – nonexiled, nonparrista, nondisappeared-inspired, nonchilenista, que mierda será todo eeeeeeeeeeesto??

Tuesday, April 8th, 2008

definitions always work best at the beginning, though they do not delineate my writing:

chilena: (morena version)

pinochetista:

student:

chicana:

local art: so far, the definition I have derived is that of art created in-location, and remains within the area from which its medium has been proportioned. made-in-china “native american” art isnt local art. christmas trees bought down the street and decorated at home are local art. (i am not relating these examples to pagan rituals, etc). riverside townscapes about the mission inn sold in the shops nearby is local art. giant robot toys made in other asian countries are integral parts of LA identity, yet they are not local art. curanto is a hole in the ground from which people bake cookies and bread in south Chile, yet it is not local art unless its remains and evidence are moved to a museum a couple kms away.

post-modernism:

contemporary:

The classification of a handmade rug that is less than 25 years of age. Cotton In handmade rugs, this is the central material used to create its foundation. (www.wfca.org/Rugs/Glossary.aspx)

ok, so keeping in mind that i am not attempting to bore you to death, please giggle a little bit with me. a chuckle or something. una risita :D

what is it to be a foreign-born latina woman of color making art in southern california, in a predominantly brown-skinned school, hip hop, with a history of LGBTIQQA and polyamory activism, herb smoker, daily bike-rider and burrito eater, AND spanish speaking between classes. Well, to many, that would be a typical contemporary chicana artist living the contemporary chicana way of life. to some degree.

WELL. throw in some physical privilege, francophonie, strict table manners, difficult science degree, rock-solid parental values, otaku-ness, spanish and german surrealist / fantasy literature, french deconstructivism and realistic prose, j/k/hk/c/brit/euro/turbofolk/latin-pop/rock, bollywood and Goa, moderate psychedelic use, drum and bass/breakcore/breaks, and obsession with mexican fine arts. –> ok, this delineates the path which seeks to destroy this chicana way of like, the chicana way of life.

YET, given my provenance alone, I am deemed, the area of my residence also, to be pooled along with the women whose art I appear to be working against due to my subject matter. I am working on subjects un-related to the way of life of a latina preoccupied with equality of living in the space which was protected and kept for ages by her ancestors. Why is this so? I am aware that my privilege has provided me with a blank base of existence, a space where my art is not a response to my “unwanted” presence in the contemporary, post-mexican, post-colonial, pre-futuristic world of riverside.

So here I express my ultimate dream:

From the moment I landed in LAX back in teh DAY (1998-the nth move #1), with my backpack full of books and coloring pencils, wearing baggy levi’s from a previous trip to Las Vegas, and my favorite green Chilean designer top, I decided that my one goal in life must be to become the toughest and roughest Cholita the world ever saw. Those thin arched eyebrows, that pink-gold-salmon eyeshadow, the white eyeliner, and most of all, the burgundy lipstick with the dark lipliner… the dickies w the crease, the fat white shoes with the wiiiiiiiiiiiide laces, and the PERFECT hair. EEEEVERY day. I must have gained about 15 kgs getting my face as round as possible, my hips as wide, and my thighs as thick. I chopped my hair off to the core (my curls just weren’t perm-y enough), yet I still viewed head gear as a sigh, a sign of weaker gender, so I avoided bandannas, walking around in my new body and image, a chubby-lookin whitewashed pretend Vata.

Of course this didnt in reality, work. lots of persona studies came after that, attempting to find an “identity” for my foreign existence where even my latina sisters did not envision my as a peer.

CHICANA ART – according to Laura E Perez, attempts to draw strength for our women through exploration of artmaking as part of autochtonous spirituality. this is mexican land, latina land, and as earths of this earth, we must support and enforce our living as valid and as beautiful as any other colonial woman’s living.

it hurts not being mexican. why is this pattern of chilean artists falling in love with mexico and never going back forreals?? (aka La Ley ja ja ja ja ja) de lo bueno, bueno. de lo cierto, nada.

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the moment when reality kinda focused a lil bit, and somehow everything

Friday, April 4th, 2008

cat food watermelon

ok,this is the first image i ever saw in class, like actually payed attention. I was about fifteen when this happned, something clicked in my glia which told my neurons to say fuck it, make art.

i man, if i said “everytime i see watermelons i think of cans of catfood” i foully would be lying and pretending a life of a college art student, which i am entielrly not, … a mere scientist :D

so back to tht imag

ah… persona installatipon, personal performances, ideologies of gender performative necessity of daily-ness

and lots of existential nonsense… not entirely necessar

and now im blogging

so then i went to the moca exhibit of Gabriel Orozco back in the day when I was still this young…  :P

and not because the watermelon image changed my life, but mailnly because I had a crazy painting teacher that summer which pushed me to try mixed media to a further extent.  thus arriving at this:

games and pointless ness… everything from which everything is built upon.

i almost cried when  well i actually cried when i saw him spit at inside the dallas museum of art this spring breaka breakak my hear  … i refuse to believe that his installation is anything else than plaster  anything more than dry god spit. i mean its “foamy” ;) in hte corner of the room… and slowly spreading or aka gallery

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