connecting*the*dots

(originally uploaded by counterclockwise)

Bloomington, Indiana

UPDATE: I just found a video clip of this work w/the artist’s description on WC:

From the Artist:

“This piece is part of a line of work I have been developing over the last year or so, which is called “Urban Impressionism”, in which represent 3D objects in 2-Dimensions through shadows. These shadows are created at a particular point of day, or night, and later stenciled and spray-painted in order to resemble real shadows. Through this process I am able to discuss light and form, in an unconventional way, placing it directly on the streets of the contemporary urban “cityscape” that surrounds us.

Ideally I hope to create a moment of magic or illusion in which the spectator or passer-by questions the space around him/her, through the shadows that are either naturally cast or artificially created. This particular piece incorporates text to politicize a very important issue for many of us today — the end of the war in many regions of our globalized world.

PS. I noticed that on the site, the piece had been mistakenly tagged as a “chalk” piece… The piece itself is was stenciled on the floor using a shadow cast by a light post at night, and later carefully sprayed with a ‘camouflage black’ can.”

What’s History Worth?
The Lex Files

“Every time I publish a story related to the Greensboro Truth and Reconciliation report and its aftermath, I hear from people either curious or angry about why the N&R, almost a year after the release of the report, continues to cover it.

[…]

But here’s the problem with ignoring the wrongs and the hurt that litter our past — and I am indebted to the old comic books I read as a kid for the imagery: You can cover up the past all you want, but often it won’t do any good. If you clean and bind the wounds of past harm, and acknowledge the loss and grief of those to whom it happened or their survivors, then you can bury it and perhaps it will rest easy.

But if you don’t, then don’t be surprised if, as you walk through the garden, smelling the magnolias and enjoying the evening air, a rotting hand reaches up from the ground and grabs you and won’t let go. Sometimes the dead don’t stay buried.”

I hear you and couldn’t agree more, Lex. And after living here for going on two years now, I think I’m getting the pulse of this city, but it’s a strange one to put a finger on.

For all of the accountability folks wants from city government and the GPD over issues like a fired police chief and potential misappropriations of $30,000 of taxpayers funds, one might think that the disgust over the Greensboro Police Department’s gross irresponsibility to protect and serve in ‘79 would draw a furor until they satisfactorily explained their inaction on that day.

Actually, that’s not true; the GPD was in action on 11/3:

• A police informant was riding with the Klan in the lead car
• The GPD filmed the Klan loading up their cars with numerous weapons prior to hitting the march route
• A call was sent out to clear the march route of all officers

So yes, the GPD was busy on that day, just not protecting the permit approved march route.

But can you blame them?

Nelson Johnson vociferously barked at the cops to stay away the day before, so they just followed his wishes. I mean, cops are notorious for throwing their responsibilities to the wind when a civilian yells loud enough, right?

From yesterday’s Yes! Weekly article, New inside perspectives on 1979 shootings point to police complicity:

[…] “Based on conversations with Dawson, who is no longer alive, Hennis told YES! Weekly in a recent interview that he believes members of the Greensboro Police Department decided to allow the Klan and Nazis to attack demonstrators after march organizer Nelson Johnson warned police to “stay out of our way.”

“The police, I believe, knew right much about it,” Hennis said. “After Nelson smart-mouthed them, they decided to just stay back and referee…. They didn’t have no plan, but they knew about it and couldn’t care less.” […]

Hell, the people that died in ‘79 were communists. It’s not like they were actually people who subscribed to a different take on labor issues and the systemic issues of socio-economic inequalities within America (which have actually grown since 1979). They were followers of a foreign “ism”… and words have consequences, right?

The thought makes me sick.

I’m not so naive to believe that privileged folk down here care to settle that case of obvious police wrongdoing.

Now, if there’s money involved or the potential for “reverse” racism to be framed, well, that’s a whole other case entirely.

Greensboro 101

Here’s the deal as I see it: Greensboro is a civil, southern town — civility will not allow for such retrospective inquiries of negative events that have occurred in the public sphere.

It’s not how things are done down here; dirty laundry is not to be aired — it’s meant to be buried.

Historically, that’s how things have worked.

It’s always been much easier to bury improprieties and crimes, along with the heads in this town, rather than talk about the issues, bring truth to the table, hold folks accountable to their actions and reconcile our grievances.

More so here than anywhere else I’ve lived.

The problem for past and present town planners and gatekeepers, is that we’re now living in the information age — their circle the wagon rhetorical tactics of old cannot quell the voices of residents who want answers, whether it be about 11/3/79 or the Dudley High School revolt or Willow Oaks or re-zoning a city district to force a successful rehabilitation and homeless program to close their doors.

And more and more folks are wanting answers in this day and age.

Burying an infested bone in a wire-frame view of a backyard these days can’t even fool a dog named Helenkeller.

Andy, Micah, Blake and Will are all local independent filmmakers and forward-thinking netizens. Something really interesting is going to come out of this collaboration.

They’re open to ideas for a production company name. Any thoughts?

(originally uploaded by LeggNet)

On Dying In Virginia
The Black Iris of Jordan

I was kind of shocked and saddened to hear about the shooting in Virginia Tech that has dominated western media in the past 48 hours, especially the Internet. I tend to pay close attention to how such incidents unravel in the media and the public eye. The number 30 was splashed across home pages of the BBC and CNN for quite some time and it’s just one of those things where one cannot help but take a step back and realize how important those 30 lives were. I mean for instance 30 is the new 20 in Iraq; daily bombings and slaughters inspire at least that much.

One could easily cast this aside as another orientalist view of the world: that their lives are worth more than our lives. I mean I’m sure it plays a role, after all, a day after the shooting the “30 dead� headline was replaced with “South Korean gunman�, as if origin mattered; as if this was the opportunity the US was waiting for all along to invade North Korea (because their names sound suspiciously similar). But maybe there’s more to it.

In between hoping the gunman isn’t Arab, there is a common denominator to consider.

There’s something to be said about the storm that breaks the quiet; when tranquility is disturbed and replaced with chaos, which of course inspires fear, confusion and anger.

When you’re used to chaos, more if it is simply nothing new. One becomes accustomed to death. If I turned on the TV to hear that there were no new deaths in Occupied Palestine or Iraq or Darfur, then I would rush to the window to make sure the apocalypse wasn’t being ushered in with falling meteors from the sky.

You get used to certain things.

But then Virginia isn’t Palestine.

Virginia isn’t Iraq.

And yes, an American isn’t a Palestinian, isn’t an Iraqi. If anything, the media makes sure to remind us of that time and time again.

The irony of this I suppose is that if anyone on the face of the Earth right now knows what it means to have innocent life taken from them; to know what it feels to have that tranquility disturbed, if anyone right now knows that feeling, those people are in Iraq and Palestine.

The only difference is hope.

The US seems to have plenty of it. There is always that light at the end of the tunnel; the recovery, the moving on, the getting over the initial shock, the coming to terms with it, coming to grips with it.

Here in the Middle East, hope is as scarce as water these days (i.e. roughly half a century to be more accurate). There is no getting over the shock; there’s just not enough time to recover from loss before another comes along to replace it. There are no recovery stories here. No learning-how-to-move-on tales to be told. Yesterday is today; today is tomorrow.

Hope doesn’t live here anymore.

Maybe there should be a cultural exchange: we could teach Americans a thing or two about how to deal with the shock of loss and maybe they could teach us a thing or two about hope.

Being that they control the world supply of hope: maybe they would be kind enough to just lend us some.

Just for the weekend.

30 is 30, just as 30,000 is 30,000, just as insanity is insanity.

While I fully realize I live in a much more stable world than a majority of human beings on this earth — that the chances of me or my loved ones falling victim to random acts of violence are slim at best — I still feel the need to cling to my sense of hope.

Because for me, that sense of hope isn’t relegated solely to my circle of friends, family and neighbor’s well being — it’s continuously extending outwards to people who deal with depravity and destruction on a daily basis.

This week, it’s extended to my neighbors in Virginia.

Every other week, it seems to bounce between folks caught up in the system at home and folks caught up in the violence around the world, particularly in the Middle-East and Africa.

And I know I’m not alone.

Hopefully, Nas and his neighbors will one day receive a pause from the cycle of violence to breathe in and digest this reality.

Hopefully.

(originally uploaded by sebastian’s belle)

(originally uploaded by cyu06)

I don’t exactly know what gear I’m moving into, but I’m definitely popping the RPM’s as I write this.

My day-to-day has evolved from a free fall of focus two years ago to a full-time operation running dotmatrix, collaborating with more than a handful of clients with unique and challenging work, assisting with the planning of this year’s ConvergeSouth and attempting to get The People, Yes off the ground.

In between those extremes of exploration and consternation, I found myself using this spot for sharing, pimping, contextualizing, opining, pointing and anything else under the sun I found valuable and interesting.

Well, it’s about time I get focused.

Yeah, I had a similar “state of the blogger” moment a few months back, but this time I’m a bit more motivated to down-shift into documenting my various efforts, especially along the lines of The People, Yes.

I refuse to become myopic or dry — graffiti, lyrics, images, poetry; all have a place — but I am making a turn, hopefully for the better.

Hold on, please.