Sunday, December 25, 2011

Me Firsters

Wrapping up the Christmas extravaganza, it is time again to reconstruct the recent events of another year gone by. The good news is not just Christians love Christmas. Every denomination seems to be enthralled with the jubilee of Giving and Receiving, the practice of good consumerism. For the haves, it's a great time to have more; Chinese food.

But for the have nots it is a time to re-load the story of Ebenezer Scrooge by Charles Dickens. It is a time for common folk to accept humility and dream on.

For every Tiny Tim and every Who in Whoville, the days surrounding the Winter Solstice is the time of the year to reflect on one's own place in the grand scheme of things.

In bland form, I too have a dream, but it is not of a white christmas. It is of a mountain top barren, worn and waiting for a day that defies expectation. At the bottom of the hill we can see a great monument to a dirty secret scrubbed clean beyond recognition.

We don't need any bricks and bottles. We don't need any Molotov cocktails. We just need to go around to these stores, and to these massive industries in our country, and say, "God sent us by here, to say to you that you're not treating his children right. And we've come by here to ask you to make the first item on your agenda fair treatment, where God's children are concerned. Now, if you are not prepared to do that, we do have an agenda that we must follow. And our agenda calls for withdrawing economic support from you. MLK

Who among us does not lust for a flat screen television, or our very own personal nuke...

... or absolute awesome power. The same power your neighbor enjoys seemingly without external cost.

In this season of indulgence, why not embrace equality for all?

Well, because that would upset the balance of power.


Sunday, December 18, 2011

Down(and out)Town

On any given Sunday afternoon Downtown Miami is a ghost town, just a few obscure shops open for clueless tourists lured by cheap merchandise and luggage. Downtown street rhythm is mostly a mainstream tick-tock schedule of Monday through Friday 9am to 6pm.

Just taking up public space, all county and federal buildings are surrounded by inhospitable walls and barricades, presumably to keep bad people out.

On the weekends it seems that most people on the STREET are homeless, and there are plenty out there comforted by the mild South Florida winter climate.

Like great sundials of progress, unoccupied condos loom in the near distance casting their long imposing shadows on Camillus House and parking lots.

No meter maids here. Of course , more people on the STREET... until the sun sets and the party people bring life back to a city center, but downtown nightlife is for another post. Sometimes quiet is good.


Friday, December 16, 2011

It's New to You

Yard Sale

Design District Annual Multi-Artist Rummage Bazaar

Saturday Only December 17

12 noon until sunset

3809 NE 1 Court

It's New to You !


Monday, December 5, 2011

Where's Santa

Forget our worries and woe, tis the season to be filled with hot air. Not surprisingly the shopping season has got off to a rather deflated start as economic inflation gives way to consumer recession with GDP stagflation and, for some folk, down right 30's style depression.

Rejoice, praise and pass the potpourri. For many in their darkest hour dreams of a white christmas can be brought back for an encore performance. From little miracles things do turn around making bellies warm and cheeks rosy merry and bright.

Such is Mr. Lucky fiberglass Santa of Surfside that has been remastered and restored with a shiny new coat of red enamel.

The season of rebirth is much more than shiny packages or mangy vignettes and gurgly egg nog. Christams is a time to reflect on the madness of our making; to reconsider, reconcile and embrace contentedness.

Scrooge be gone, Christmas is a time to remember 9/10.


Friday, December 2, 2011

Basel Barn Razing

Big as Basel

South Florida is a place of sunshine, fresh produce and a healthy simple lifestyle. But once a year when Art Basel comes to town a darker more sinister climate descends upon the swamp like a heavy fog of doubt and dare i say debauchery and delirium.

When the winter moon is low and the sun of fire descends into the western abyss, a dark and sludgy swamp is awoken by artful dodgers, stylish smudgers, free drinks and luxury traffic jams.

The unsuspecting crowd throbs willingly like a beehive of drones sensing the nectar of artistic pheromones programed into their very aesthetic. Sure as flies to shitake shrooms are herded past the horn of plenty of eye candy.

Only bad witches are ugly; these golden gray ladies are mesmerizing in their candy coated luster for the adoration of a shiny thing.

Then it begins, the casual nonchalant introduction of mystical images and symbolic gestures that flash of the spirit world not of this realm.

Most of us were readily hypnotized by this pendent. Reconfigured, star struck and stumbling we made my way down the isles in the maze that is the art fair.

A young lady, perhaps yet a virgin, was taken in by fancy mirrors in her own image as the sight of a pregnant grocery cart lay in wanting repose nearby.

Soon we found further reference to ancient potencies packaged for today as with this pyramid of jewel encrusted spam cans. For some, this is the point of no return.

Turning the corner, the casual art enthusiasts are confronted with his or her own mortality and logic.

At this point it is too late. Juan and Jill are swept away down the spiral of shock awe and the indefensible contagious nature of art.

The warning messages were here and there but most did not heed them for darky forces were too strong.

Some may smirk and pretend to brush off the graphic nature of glorified and gory images but at that point it is also too late even for desensitized fools.

At the many fairs that descend on our quiet town, sharp salespeople use a combination of art and science to peddle their goods before hitching their tents and moving on to the next town.
This fellow going by the name of Mr. Horn specializes in reconstituted toy balls. Somehow I want one.

A big thing begets a big price tag and so if you have to ask the question How Much is This Art? it is probably not for you.

Crash Bang Zoom, nothing is a single imagine and no amount of forensics will completely explain why people do what they do for the sake of art.

Go ahead call 911 but it will be to no avail. There is no provision in the law to curtail the magic of art. You the viewers of art are the willing first-responders the first line of defense and interpretation. Good luck with that.

All the paperwork is good, I shit you not. Of the myriad of spectacle one performance stands (or should i say) lays alone. At first glance those not being thoroughly versed on what exactly art is will jump back in puzzled indignation. But rest easy you peta challenged humanoids, this amazing work is about our disconnect from nature and the need to recognize our place among animal, mineral and vegetable.

After several hours of wallowing and wooing with likeminded humans, we exit the barn of the brain-candy back to the comfortable open spaces of artlessness and normalcy. All the better for having survived another year of Art Basel.

Until the next time when yet another painting of Frida Kahlo will sell for a million bananas.