Talk Show Paradigm

Posted on April 20, 2011 by NyG

One of our latest projects involved archetypal notions of an American talk show. Its variations were based on the surreal perception that these shows are of importance. Not long ago the news, comedy circuits, opinion polls, coffee shop topics, et cetera, were filled with discussions about talk show hosts and whom should hold which time slot. The network giants were basically figuring out contracts and moving around people to get one monologue crew versus another one. We actually do not have a television. Not as a statement, at least not anymore for we watch plenty of television based programs online, but more as an example of its dinosaur characteristics. Television, as a notion, is a phenomenon of the past. Granted we lived through the height of it much like we heard stories of family gatherings around a radio. Living in NYC does not really require the wind down with the typical shows. There is no time. Sure we try to catch a game here and there, stay in touch with a series or show. But the basic premise has shifted. We have become an on demand crowd. We watch what we want, not what is there, what they give us. As thought thinkers, the prototype shows hold only enough substance for cultural criticism, observation. We do have favorites, some follow the hip pool, some are outside the norm. Talk shows do not really touch our vision scope. These fall under an even more dinasouric category. The formula is not unique enough to hold our attention. Perhaps we have outgrown their grasp, perhaps we were too young to understand them to get into them and now we are too late. Adding to our opinion would be the cultural differences and not growing up with these shows in other countries. New York versus Los Angeles, 10:30 opposed to 11:30. These arguments might only serve as entertainment for the generation that grew up watching these programs. Not that this is a bad thing; we mention this to point out our lack of understanding of this culture, experience.

As we broke it down, the talk show example is simple. The host begins with a joke or two, mostly topical and/or political. The next phase is a comedy skit that keeps the audience laughing and clapping. The whole notion of a live audience serves as cue to people watching at home; was this funny, should we laugh, et cetera. Later comes a guest, usually an actor or someone with a current show or movie to promote. The interview normally brings the actor to a level in which the audience can identify with and/or laugh with. A musical guest appears next with a number from a previous record or a current one in order to support their concert, t-shirt, or to break up the monotony of people talking about relevant topics. Sometimes comics get interviewed or share their own monologue. To wrap up the show there is a musical number. The whole late night talk show experience is not complete without a series of commercials that promote all sorts of other products or services that appeal to the audience at home but that might not be related to what is being promoted on the show.  There is a sense, for us newbies, that this just promotes and serves itself. For the most part we are not aware of what most of these people have accomplished, perhaps not as an element of value. Though we might identify with the younger talk host generation, their main importance comes from being on television, which we have already denounced as passé. Parents have cable.

Last year we participated in a play by Pass Kontrol: New Hope City. A Character was created as a talk show host from a proposed utopian future. Sexo the Clown is a bit of a nom de guerre, or nom de plum, that has been around since the messenger days; as well as a publication of art works and photographs. Perhaps not the best name for the spirit of the talk show, but it suited the future quality of the play. This also wandered from the name and last name principal of most talk shows. After a full run of the play, Sexo had a persona of its own. In order to explore a little bit further and with a bit of reach, we revived the role with a full show: The Sexo The Clown Show. We followed the basic breakdown, had a house band, a sidekick and guests. There was even a cameraperson and his assistant to drive the televised concept home. One of the major differences was the treatment of language.  Though the main intent was the original thought of language being obsolete in the future, there was also a mood that, for the most part, guests speak nonsense and bring nothing of intellectual value to the table. Their main concern is to promote themselves, their movie, idea, product, or latest publication. As a side note, though we were speaking in a few different languages, after the run we began to understand each other. Dancing girls, The Shy Grrrls, provided a relationship with talk shows from other countries. Sound bites made a bit of a crossover with morning radio. Also, a curated set of commercials gave the audience a break from the inner workings of the show. Overall, the half written, half improvised production drove the point across. The players were devoted to their characters and remained on point. It was a three-night run with a closing event at the end. We could not have accomplished this project without people collaborating and pitching in. One of the coolest things, as usual, is the fact that we pulled it off… Because we could…

A special place is set aside for all those involved, Pass Kontrol, Bed Credit/No Credit, Spring(s), as well as The Bushwick Starr. They provided well-needed courage, support, and a drink or two, maybe three…

Share
Posted in Uncategorized | Leave a comment

Heroes Are We.

Posted on March 17, 2011 by NyG

We live in Brooklyn. Most of our milieu spans from Williamsburg to Bushwick, with the occasional extension to other parts of Brooklyn, even Ridgewood. Yet we are not identifiable as an East Village crowd. Most of us were not even here when Soho was on the up and up, when the Chelsea was only a hotel for Rock Star drug addicts, or even when Time Square was seedy and sleazy. These are mostly tales that appear in documentaries about painters, musicians and performance artists. For a lot of us CBGBs is just a print on a t-shirt that we do not even own. All of those heroes from that NYC are no longer around. There is no Andy, no Lou, no Phillip, no Lydia, Mars or Swans. The 2nd Avenue Deli is now a bank and Max’s Kansas City is a Park Avenue cafe. So our sense of history with that New York is not even alive, it is an image.

The fact is that Manhattan is no longer that appealing. There are a few venues such as The Cake Shop, Pianos, perhaps a few other spots we have not discovered. Yet most other places are reserved for the mid to heavy weights, not for innovation, creation. We live in areas that can house six bands for eight bucks or no cover, all ages, cheap drinks, black bean soup and/or taquitos. It is the type of environment films speak of, the gritty New York that makers deem gone. This grittiness always sprouts elsewhere. Too old and tired to make the trip on the J, M or L, these Idols believe that it was different in their days. Back then they could get up with a saxophone and a maraca to make what they called Punk and now suppose over. The fact is that by the time a music scene has a label and the media speaks about it, grunge, emo, hipster, there is already something on the rise that defies said labels. These Icons lecture as if to state that they caught the only wave that ever was. One would think to declare that it would have been great to be there, with them. We do not. Lucky for us their teachings are flawed. In a world full of Idols and Heroes we have been taught to kill them all. Truth be told, between Kill Your Idols and Be Here Now there is hope to fill this void; we believe in our world.

In an inspired neighborhood full of new makers, we find ourselves surrounded by writers, designers, musicians and fakers. Every so often there is a band with an ingenious take on their notes or a clothes designer with a vision in mind. There is a new scene merging and a small fuss created around it. Some of these micro arenas give way for people to explore their passions. Basically most of us have been theater geeks, band geeks, yearbook staff, track nerds, skaters and outcasts. Perhaps some of us just took photos of the skaters because we were not up to par but wanted to meet girls, boys, were confused, empowered, ambitious, who knows. Yet we ended up living extremely close. Our own documentary reads like a reality TV show. We are writing it as we go. We should be indebted for settings like The Northeast Kingdom and The Bushwick Starr, or locations like Death By Audio, Pete’s Candy Store, Bruar Falls, Union Pool, not to mention Goodbye Blue Monday. These corners allow for avant-garde to exist, for the bizarre to stay new. Sure, some would argue that all has been done before, yet even that has been said as well. So we play.

This set of images follows just one weekend with our Heroes, our Idols. The snapshots begin with Not Blood Paint caught at Galapagos Art Space in Brooklyn; definitely one of our current favorite bands, though the venue has its moments. The Cameo Gallery conjures up some great performers as well, eight dollars to see Backwords and Pass Kontrol on the same bill. Both of these rock bands are DIY solid; self-promoted, self-produced, self-inflicted, home schooled, organic, free range performers. Another act that evening, pacesetters by their own right, was Bad Credit/No Credit. Though each performance with them is quite different, their theatrics are unquestionably innovative. Something else to be said for BC/NC is that, when they are on, it’s on. Lydia Lunch meets Tom Waits kind of on ensemble.  The last band on this set is The Psychic Paramount. Each show has its own string of contemplation, but basically they are indescribable; undeniably pure, thought provoking power. This particular evening happened at Death By Audio, with a great opening act power duo, Talk Normal (not pictured, though we caught them on video).  The Psychic Paramount is known for a heavy furious sound, noise, something. The best approach is to sit back and let the thoughts and boom go through. One has to allow for the discussion to come later, post show, or the thread of revelations becomes interrupted and corrupt. At least that seems to be our method, slant.

The weekend finalized with a parade through the streets of Bushwick. There were a few costumes, several instruments and a few dogs to accompany us on a rhythmic walk by some of our key venues. This was a celebration of sorts of our entitled sense of Punk Rock. There were people from different realms of creation, cooks, painters, bakers, farmers, players, doers, actors and entrepreneurs. Lady Magma was the only band that was not missing members. We had not seen them perform since Karl Lagerfeld’s Unofficial CMJ show. They took the streets as their stage for this Fat Tuesday parade.

All of these people are our heroes. We are their heroes. In some form or another this is the moment that we are creating. This is not a documentary about some guy in 1972 that did some thing; it is not about a girl that is an artist or was on TV in 1983. This is about what we are doing now as a result of all that has been. Our memory with this set of misfits goes back to Pass Kontrol playing at our Williamsburg apartment, The Psychic Paramount at our wedding, even the first time we saw Carrie-Anne at Bruar Falls, half a block away… Not sure if this is how the whole Hero/Idol thing works or is supposed to work, but this seems to be enough for the rock stars in our head. So they Idolize us and we Idolize all of them…

 

Share
Posted in Art, Music | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Bus 142

Posted on March 7, 2011 by NyG

Most of our adventures begin with a destination in mind. First we pick a reason to head in any direction, then we find our way and answer our questions throughout the process. Though not always the case while we wander, it is good to wander in a particular path, following a noteworthy destination.  Such was the case with our Honeymoon. Our objective was the highly praised Bus 142 somewhere in Alaska. The adventure was to start here in Brooklyn, load the car with dogs and gear and head out to Alaska.  There is a certain freedom involved with a pinpoint limitation; we have to get there from here. The turn around point was decided, the rest we had to figure out on the way. The expedition was to be the actual Nuptial. Though this entry does not illustrate our journey there,  put a pin on that and we will come back to it at a later posting.

On this entry we are to share some images from our quest for Bus 142. We did not set out to live off squirrel meat or roots. We just wanted to check out something that had inspired us equally at one point. A lot of people relate this bus only to a book or a movie, few venture out to see it. It is quite a peaceful place indeed.  One of the amazing aspects of being there was the twenty-four hour daylight. It was never dark during our days camping. This is why there are no images of a moon or campfire night scene. Our time there was extremely exceptional.  We made the bus our main headquarters. People came and went during our time there; some camped right outside, some just hiked right back. We met Marita and Kevin, a couple from Austria traveling around the world on a budget. Kevin fished, we cooked it, and Marita told wonderful stories about their travels. Jeremy, from Utah came next to stay with us one night. Later we met Pawel and Vladimir. They had hiked all night. This is easier in the Summer, of course. The advantage was the lack of mosquitoes during those hours. Something that Alexander Supertramp did not mention on his travels to the bus, or gets overlooked, is the amount of mosquitoes to get there. Pawel was a prosthetics specialist traveling before entering some sort of workforce. Vladimir was from Russia and was living in Anchorage, working as a fisherman. Later we were able to hike with them a while and return to our car.

We are still in touch with Vladimir and are planning to see him soon. One of the great things about a common goal or destination is the possibilities of a kindred spirit along the way. We did not know a lot of people that had heard of Bus 142 or even knew if it was still around. However, we were able to meet some that took some time to find it. Lobo was only five months; Luna was almost three years or so. We were able to capture a moment describing our beginnings, one that would set base for some of our journeys to follow.  It also states or underlines our thought that the great love novel, movie or story does not end with the couple getting hitched up, it begins there for writings to come. We should put a pin on that as well…

Share
Posted in Art, Travel | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment

Nuevo Amanecer

Posted on February 15, 2011 by NyG

San Pedro de Atacama was our first real stop after Santiago. People appear to go there and stay for days, months, even forever… We had actually attempted stopping in two other cities, but these were too large for what we were looking for. Serena appeared amazing to explore, so did Calama. But we were searching for a small town, more of a feel, really. San Pedro offered us the option to disappear while still being able to see sites.

We arrived by bus. We had been warned against such a long bus ride. It is twenty-two hours from Santiago, in a desert. The thought behind our adventure was that one has to travel the distance in order to experience such desert. Though we can somewhat understand the comfort of an airplane ride, we were drawn to open country. So we took advantage of a well-put together transportation structure and set out to explore.

Backpackers are corralled by herds of people with information about what accommodations they have to offer. Juan Pablo, from Hostal Nuevo Amanecer, had the best deal to match what we were looking for. One of the great aspects about Nuevo Amanecer was its distance from the center of the town. This allowed us to be away from the loud drunk tourists at any given time. Another wonderful feature were the bicycles. The fact that we could just get on their bicycles and ride all over town and beyond allowed for a most needed sense of freedom. We checked in, changed shoes, took off…

First, Valle de la Luna, a great short ride out of town. It was evening by the time we were done with everything so we managed to walk through town, obtain rice, avocados, tomatoes and tuna to make some dinner. Though it is important for us to explore the culinary aspects of each region, our interests in San Pedro seemed to be more about comforts and a home base. The use of a kitchen allowed us to be creative with the produce of the region. We could thus, remain somewhat distant to the regular tourist industry of the town. Every night we were able to invent a noble meal that would satisfy our thirst for the day to follow.

We got a hold of snowboards for sand boarding. It is quite the industry there. One can rent them, go with a group, have a guide, get a short film made, et cetera. In fact, most of the side adventures that the town offers have different levels of comfort, involvement and participation. Our do-it-yourself attitude added a lot to our understanding of the place. Yet setting out to get lost on a bike with a sand board strapped to one’s back is not for everyone. As explores, our wiring showed no other alternative. Valle de la Muerte had the dunes that we were looking for. Though short on water, we were never without. We made an exchange of rides for water with a Swiss couple that had not brought boards to the sand. Walking up became a demanding element. Riding down turned into an energizing factor. We repeated this cycle until the exhaustion of walking up defeated the revitalizing aspect of riding down. Biked back into town to return the gear and make another meal to fuel our tomorrow. Chile has Summer in January, this made for long days of exploration before our evening surrender. We were able to have a bit of a ride and walk through town before heading back to dine at Nuevo Amanecer. Fell asleep before hitting the pillow.

Those raggedy bikes got worked during our time there. December 31st we rode out to Laguna Cejar for a salt experience. There was sand and desert on our way out there, to a refreshing salty lake. The water was cold; the salt burnt the lips, the buoyancy kept us afloat. The terrain was full of textures, plants, flamingos and sand. Our hair and bodies covered in salt residue on our ride back to San Pedro. During our whole desert ride we found one tree. This made it hard to get lost. One is either heading toward the tree or away from it. Upon getting to the hostel, after showers, we considered what our New Year options were to be.

As a custom in Northern Chile, people do what is called the burning of the Monkey, the Mono. Each household makes a dummy out of old clothes to be set on fire right at midnight. Its symbolic nature is to burn out the old year and bring on the new. Walked around town observing several clever answers to this tradition. Got a bottle of wine for our New Year celebration, cheese, avocado and bread. We waited for 2011 at what was now a home for us, a comfortable space. The family that owns and operates Nuevo Amanecer built a fire for their guests, put out some form of stereo system. Right at midnight, they set fire to the Mono, released a few fire works and broke out the champagne. We shared our chocolates, drank and ate with them. Walked around to see other Monos being torched, and we exhausted our way to bed.

The next morning we enjoyed another gastronomic creation, said our goodbyes to the whole family and other traveling friends, and we were off on another bus again…

Share
Posted in Art, Travel | Tagged , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

We Dream…

Posted on February 1, 2011 by NyG

While on a road trip through the States someone captured me with my arms out taking the scenery in, absorbing it. I had pulled over for a view of the desert somewhere in Arizona. It seemed like the type of American landscape that one only sees in movies or imagines through books. I felt overwhelmed and wanted to capture with all of my senses, even taste it. I was unaware of the photo that was being taken. I did not know until it was sent to me months later. Back then one had to wait at least one hour for developing. In fact, after waiting, one got what one got, that was that, and one was okay with that… Though just a few years ago, the culture of showing the photo just moments after taking it did not exist. Also the image being posted, tagged, grouped, labeled and captioned was not even a twinkle of a thought. The image is still with me. I can remember pulling over and taking it all in, just for a second. Then the image, the smell, the feeling is gone. The photograph remains. I can hold it in my hand and pass it around.

The travelling does continue. Since then there have been many other landscapes from which to take a sensory photograph. That image became the catalyst for the project at hand of documenting each of these moments. There are a few conditions for each snapshot. For one, the place should not be crowded. The moment cannot be self-conscious at all. The moment has to feel truthful and pure. Like it was mentioned earlier, the taste of the landscape has to be present. This allows one to close one’s eyes, open them, breathe, surrender, explore, resign.  Some of these portraits cannot be told through the documentation.  What is witnessed is not interrupted. However, the document or photograph has a person, me, in front of it. The Idea is to make the landscape real, to explain that someone was present, living. Each viewer gets to experience something different. Each person is to define the moment with his or her own words, dreams, baggage, etc.

This has become an intense collaboration. The pick of an image to be witnessed, taken in, inhaled, requires an eye for the document itself. Even with sight or suggestions, there still needs to be someone behind the camera. A loss of control is thus replaced with a certain sense of trust. Sometimes the distance is such that there should not be screaming of Ideas back and forth; minutia could take away from the moment itself, the submission. The topography is taken in as a metaphor is created, a mental sketch to be shared. This is somewhat of an understanding, a contract. It is as wonderful as the adventure, playing music, running, cooking, and other artistic pursuits that we accomplish together.

So far there is only a working title for this book of images: Dreambook. Not sure if this title will stick. The word ‘dream’ can lead the witness, so to speak. Yet the notion of having all of these perceptions in a book is somewhat of a dream. Exists a fear of commitment to a title. For now, Dreambook is the name of the folder where we are collecting these stills. Naming something this significant is bound to be tricky. Dream? Whose ‘dream’? What is the ‘dream’? Is the landscape the dream? Is the book the dream? Perhaps we cannot control that anymore than we can control what people experience when they survey these landscapes. The mere number of images is bound to be overwhelming enough. It is overwhelming for us. We are doing the legwork, we are collecting the photographs, and we would like to share them. From New York to Alaska, San Francisco to Denver, all the places in between and abroad, if there is a spot it is taken, snapped. A sensory depiction is stolen and the moment documented.

Here are a few of these images from our latest, tangential journey. These are picks from our travels to Lima from Santiago in order to keep threading to our last post.

More of these captures can be found at giselflorez.com and nelsonfernandofigallo.com

NYG, 369.

Share
Posted in Art, Travel, Uncategorized | Leave a comment

Chile Peru, Peru Chile

Posted on January 26, 2011 by NyG

Forgive us followers for we have traveled. It has been two months since our last post session. This time our adventures took us to South America, Chile and Peru to be exact. Though we are still sifting through the two thousand or so photo files, we thought to start with some of the graffiti from the travels. It seemed like a great thread to tie this year with some of our projects from last year.

Santiago de Chile had Banksy at a restaurant. Not sure that these were original works or just appropriations for the Maldito Chef. Still, it was good to find something from our circles of knowledge related to the antithesis and not the thesis; there were plenty of fast food chains to remind us of traveling in the States. Some of the combinations of work were just as engaging. Whether this was on purpose or nor was beside the point. To some extent it just happened. Quien Te Aguanta next to a Peru Ana Ana Peru image, or No Hay Nada Como Peru Ana. These images were refreshing and new. It is good to be able to enjoy the non-mainstream underbelly of a City. One has to look for it and be open to it.  Though there are areas such as Bellavista where graffiti is much more of a norm or expected.

Most markings followed us all the way north. San Pedro de Atacama had quite a lot to offer as well. From Expatriates to the Swiss mixed in with a few signs of urban works to be picked up by those in the know and be overlooked by those in the not-know. Even the border town of Arica with its Alitas de Pollo spoke to us on our walk across to Peru. Yes, we crossed the border by foot, not by plane. There is something quite unique and surreal about that accomplishment. It is as if the already imaginary divider disappears into an invented immigration hassle. We humans are a curious bunch for sure. Not only is there a dispute in land between these two countries, they even argue about who gets to claim Pisco, one of their alcoholic drinks.

Peru started out too busy and dirty for us. We felt overwhelmed. San Pedro, back in Chile, had been a small town with an extremely safe element and a hostel far from everyone. We traveled by bus from Tacna to Arequipa but decide to take another bus out of there until we were ready to face the country. Though breakfast in Tacna was amazing and Lunch in Arequipa fully made our day. We landed, as a figurative speech, in Cusco. There we were able to relax a bit and look for wall works of art. Hippie, Punk, Rockers and mainstream tourist alike get to walk around viewing and eating and buying and sleeping. Some of the best Indian food we have eaten was in Cusco, but this is topic for a different entry. The market was truly incredible. Not sure how many backpackers and travelers get to venture out of the main historic square, but there is plenty outside the Lonely Planet recommendations. In fact, the Planet gets lonelier in the Outskirts. It is no secret that we really love the Outskirts. Even our Hostels were outside the border. Instead of heading to Lima as expected, we made a stop in Nazca. Another set of walls with a different set of drawings. Some of these images are political. As the definition of what one might conceder graffiti blurs each political party had their mark. Grapes, PRI, Llamas and other postings not unlike the expressions we get to enjoy back in NYC. Our favorites were the Nazca lines. There is a sense of graffiti on the planet for the whole galaxy to see. We imagined making a tag so large that it would only be visible from the moon. Try Obey-ing that.

The final stop was Lima, the capital of Peru. Quite a metropolis from what we had been accustomed to, though Santiago was a big city, it had been a couple of weeks. In Lima the backpackers and tourist fade into the bunch and it was easier to blend in. Miraflores, where we stayed, was filled with NYC and Miami t-shirt wearers, little dogs and runners. Beyond that there was plenty of everything. You name it, Lima has it. We walked everywhere and took buses to the Outskirts, at least as far as we felt comfortable or had time to see. One of our greatest finds was Cherman, a Peruvian artist or Graphic Designer. We ran into his work in Barranquito City, at the Galeria Lucia De La Puente. An amusing aspects of the work was the use of a Che Guevara with sunglasses image as a relief stamp. He also signed the work, Che. There was another set of drawings that used corners and doorways to place a cute bear-like character holding up signs. The words in these signs had no relevance to us, mostly because of a different culture. Had we stayed in Lima longer we would have learned more about them or even the name of the artist. Che, though, appears to be known internationally, somewhat, so we are sure to run into him again. There was also a great use of images to board up a condemned house in Chorrillos, a beach neighborhood in Lima. Each window had a different woman painted on the board covering it.

These, of course, are only highlights from a graffiti search, or rather, finds. There were plenty of Earth Works and other genres within the art world as we know it. Adobe walls, Museum paintings, culinary expressions… A few of these will appear in other entries or we will have another fashion for showing them. This was a great way to start.

NyG, 369 Studios.

Share
Posted in Art, Travel | Tagged , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment