connecting*the*dots

From MetaEfficient:

This skyscraper, to be built in Dubai, is called the Burj al-Taqa (’Energy Tower’), and it will produce 100% of its own power. The tower will have a huge (197 foot diameter) wind turbine on its roof, and arrays of solar cells that will total 161,459 square feet in size. Additional energy is provided by an island of solar panels, which drifts in the sea within viewing distance of the tower.

[…]

A few months ago, Ndesanjo and I kicked back at a local pub and after a few drinks, began exchanging stories of past mentors that forever changed our lives.

I told Ndesanjo a few stories about Bill Readings, my revolutionary Contemporary Literary Theory professor from Syracuse University. That man completely altered the way I looked at both language and the world around me by planting his signature Deconstructionism seed in my skull. Without the experience of his class (and conversation over pints at Chucks), I’d be a completely different person today — processing both information and reality sans an apperception filter.

Ndesanjo spoke of Dr. Abdul Alkalimat, his former professor at the University of Toledo. He touched upon Dr. Alkalimat’s 40 years worth of work in the American Civil Rights movement, but even more importantly his forward-thinking thesis for bridging the digital divide and building local/global communities.

Last week, Ndesanjo passed me a speech Dr. Alkalimat gave at the 2004 Black Media Congress. If you have 20 minutes, take a listen — you won’t be disappointed.

Two words: On. Point.

A few weeks ago, Molly asked me if I would be interested in speaking with a group of students at Weaver Academy, a local high school here in Greensboro. Her friend, Meredith Newlin, is a teacher of rhetoric and writing at the school and Molly felt that our two worlds — full of words — were meant to collide.

I’m a teacher wanna-be, so I pretty much agreed to do it on the spot.

So after a bit of back and forth, Meredith and I were able to schedule yesterday as the day for the meeting. I made my way over to the school just after 1pm and was graciously received by her entire class.

Can I just say how cool it is to vibe with young minds?

I mean, we started in the typical lecture/audience model, where “Mr. Coon” began as the guest speaker for the day as the deliverer of wisdom. But after only 15 minutes of my back-story, the kids and I found ourselves immersed neck deep in a conversation about what it means to have a voice in the midst of the information revolution.

Yeah, 11th graders.

Meredith was great, as she guided the conversation from the back of the room, making smart bridges of relevance to her curricula — how rhetoric and solid writing skills can lead to both personal growth and new opportunities in the age in which we live, but it was the kids that led the direction of the conversation.

As we bounced from idea to idea, we spent a decent amount of time talking about social networking (every kid is on MySpace) and blogging (only a few kids actually blogged) and the power both hold nowadays, which quickly segued into a conversation about The People, Yes.

A Little Ditty About…

Over the past month or so, I’ve been hitting the library every Monday night at 6pm to catch the Food not Bombs homeless dinner, with laptop in tow to both present to the group when possible or pull people off to the side to introduce the ideas behind generating a voice, blogging and building community.

After giving the kids a bit of such context, I ventured into sharing some ideas and direction that I’ve yet to share with the majority of my board — such as opening up The People, Yes to all Greensboro residents, while diving deeper into more areas on the other side of the digital divide, like the city/county jail system (a Ndesanjo idea, I must confess).

I also mentioned that at some point in the near future, we’ll be looking to sign up volunteer blogging mentors, acquire digital cameras via donations and open up the project for either individual or local business sponsorships of bloggers.

Within minutes of sharing the nuts and bolts of the project, kids began asking about how blogging actually worked and one even volunteered to work on the project itself (what up, Cory!). Quite honestly, the amount of interest in the project was amazing and proved consistent with the feeling I have that once I can focus on TPY with all my attention, it’s going to be an extremely rewarding experience.

Until then, I’m relying on the folk who have stepped up to date, and that list is growing each day.

Back to yesterday: To give a bit more context surrounding the afternoon, here’s a few links to illustrate some of the ideas that we rapped about:

• Bruce Sterling’s closing speech and reading from Carl Sandburg’s, The People, Yes! at SXSW last year (my influence to start TPY)
• Introducing the notion of tagging meta-data to information these days through poetry
• How we can watch our rhetoric and writing grow and evolve through simple constructs like tag clouds

Just as we began to dig in and discuss different options for starting a blog, the hour and a half came to an end and the kids left for their next classes. Meredith asked me to speak a bit to her next class of ninth graders, which I was all too happy to oblige — we even have a Where’s Waldo-type photo to prove it:

Meredith and I are going to arrange another time for me and her kids to get down and dirty with blogging software, which will hopefully empower her class with a collaborative blog and/or individual ones for any of the kids who want to start publishing their Peter Bradyesque voices.

With the passion and curiosity of these kids, Roch won’t know what’s hitting him. ;)

every man has a vocal chord
but not every man has a voice
some choose to live life that way
others simply have no choice
with too much to think about
too much goin’ on
too much tryin’ to survive
too much watchin’ their own get gone
so what’s the worth of words
these mere utterances in time
these rearranged thoughts
in both rhythm and rhyme?
i’ll tell you their value
but you probably won’t hear me
being caught up in the matrix
you’ll just craft reason to fear me..

when i’m struggling to get by
and trying to fly
but instead i get high
and dance that fine line
it’s the words that come save me
like dry turkey in gravy
i flip back to my quest
and push along like scorsese
to craft a moment in time
script the next one to follow
not some hollow ass production
of bling pursuit do i wallow
in the mire i find the depths
the inspiration
the desire..

to live by the pursuit of the grade
A
performance bonus
A
white picket dream
A
life with no compassion
A
way to drown out the screams
the shit just ain’t for me
and i know i’m not alone
so pick up your pen
your pad
your phone
dial me into your realm
put on your friday night best
cause when we hit the streets
it’s all about the people
yes..

Ndesanjo Macha, the Central Unit Director for the Boys and Girls Club of Greensboro, pinged me about this earlier in the week:

Later today, The Central Unit is having a grand opening of the first recording studio for kids in Greensboro. The event will involve performances by club members, local artists, NC A&T university step team (Alpha Phi Alpha Fraternity) and modeling group (Verge), etc.

The studio is for kids to learn news skills in digital technologies (sound engineering, recording, etc.). Their aim is to teach them how to be good producers of information and knowledge (since they are already very good consumers!)

(studio under construction)

Time: 6-8pm, February 23
Location: 840 Neal Street, Greensboro
Ticket: $3 (adults), $2 (kids - non-members of the B&G club).
Contact: 235-5236 (cell) or 274-1509 (o).

More photos of the studio in progress and their blog.

Thanks, Chris & Tara.

R.I.P.

The Real Story of the Superheroes
by DULCE PINZÓN

After September 11, the notion of the “hero” began to rear its head in the public consciousness more and more frequently. The notion served a necessity in a time of national and global crisis to acknowledge those who showed extraordinary courage or determination in the face of danger, sometimes even sacrificing their lives in an attempt to save others. However, in the whirlwind of journalism surrounding these deservedly front-page disasters and emergencies, it is easy to take for granted the heroes who sacrifice immeasurable life and labor in their day to day lives for the good of others, but do so in a somewhat less spectacular setting.

The Mexican immigrant worker in New York is a perfect example of the hero who has gone unnoticed. It is common for a Mexican worker in New York to work extraordinary hours in extreme conditions for very low wages which are saved at great cost and sacrifice and sent to families and communities in Mexico who rely on them to survive.

The Mexican economy has quietly become dependent on the money sent from workers in the US. Conversely, the US economy has quietly become dependent on the labor of Mexican immigrants. Along with the depth of their sacrifice, it is the quietness of this dependence which makes Mexican immigrant workers a subject of interest.

The principal objective of this series is to pay homage to these brave and determined men and women that somehow manage, without the help of any supernatural power, to withstand extreme conditions of labor in order to help their families and communities survive and prosper.

This project will consist of 12 color photographs of Mexican immigrants dressed in the costumes of popular American and Mexican superheroes. Each photo will picture the worker/superhero in their work environment, and will be accompanied by a short text including the worker’s name, their hometown in Mexico, the number of years they have been working in New York, and the amount of money they send to Mexico each week.

Dulce Pinzón

When I lived in that neck of the woods, I had a hard enough time keeping a savings account moving in the right direction on a corporate salary.

My personal favorite of the exhibition:

THE HULK
Paulino Cardozo
from the State of Guerrero
Works as a loader in New York
Sends home $300 per week

Color prints mounted on Sintra (series 1/5)
16 x 20 ”
2004/2005

Thanks, Ethan

Artist: Momus
Song: The Age Of Information

==========

This is a public service announcement

Ladies and gentlemen, we are now entering
The age of information
It’s perfectly safe
If we all take a few basic precautions
May I make some observations?

Axiom 1 for the world we’ve begun:

Your reputation used to depend on
What you concealed
Now it depends on what you reveal

The age of secretive mandarins who creep on heels of tact is dead:
We are all players now in the great game of fact instead
So since you can’t keep your cards to your chest
I’d suggest you think a few moves ahead
As one does when playing a game of chess

Axiom 2 to make the world new:

Paranoia’s simply a word for seeing things as they are
Act as you wish to be seen to act
Or leave for some other star

Somebody is prying through your files, probably
Somebody’s hand is in your tin of Netscape magic cookies
But relax: if you’re an interesting person
Morally good in your acts
You have nothing to fear from facts

Axiom 3 for transparency:

In the age of information the only way to hide facts
Is with interpretations, there is no way to stop the free exchange
Of idle speculations

In the days before communication privacy meant staying at home
Sitting in the dark with the curtains shut unsure whether to answer the phone
But these are different times, now the bottom line
Is that everyone should prepare to be known
Most of your friends will still like you fine

X said to Y what A said to B
B wrote an E-mail and sent it to me
I showed C and C wrote to A:
Flaming world war three

Cut, paste, forward, copy
CC, go with the flow
Our ambition should be to love what we finally know
Or, if it proves unloveable, simply to go

Axiom 4 for this world I adore:

Our loyalties should shift in view
According to what we know
And who we are speaking to

Once I was loyal to you, and prepared to be against information
Now I am loyal to information, maybe I’m disloyal to you
My loyalty becomes more complex and cubist with every new fact I learn
It depends who I’m speaking to
And who they speak to in turn

Axiom 5 for information workers who wish to stay alive:

Supply, never withhold, the information requested
With total disregard for interests
Personal and vested

Chinese whispers was an analogue game
Where the signal degraded between brain and brain
Digital whispers is the same in reverse
The word we spread gets better, not worse
Better, not worse

X said to Y what A said to B
B wrote an E-mail and sent it to me
I showed C and C wrote to A:
Flaming world war three

Cut, paste, forward, copy
CC, go with the flow
Our ambition should be to love what we finally know
Or, if it proves unloveable, simply to go

(from courtney)

(originally uploaded by slight clutter)

From the handling of Katrina to the Sean Bell shooting, it’s a safe bet to say that if Martin Luther King Jr. were alive today, he’d still be a busy man. Now, what if he were here and once again dipped into the part of his ministry that really scared the FBI and US government — his take on US foreign policy?

What do you think his perspective would be on the Iraq occupation? Personally speaking, I don’t think he’d acquiesce to it fitting neatly within the context of the War on Terror.

From “Beyond Vietnam: A Time to Break Silence,” a speech delivered on April 4th, 1967 at a meeting of Clergy and Laity Concerned at Riverside Church in New York City… with a few alterations:

I come to this magnificent house of worship tonight because my conscience leaves me no other choice. I join with you in this meeting because I am in deepest agreement with the aims and work of the organization which has brought us together: Clergy and Laymen Concerned about Iraq. The recent statement of your executive committee are the sentiments of my own heart and I found myself in full accord when I read its opening lines: “A time comes when silence is betrayal.” That time has come for us in relation to Iraq.

The truth of these words is beyond doubt but the mission to which they call us is a most difficult one. Even when pressed by the demands of inner truth, men do not easily assume the task of opposing their government’s policy, especially in time of war. Nor does the human spirit move without great difficulty against all the apathy of conformist thought within one’s own bosom and in the surrounding world. Moreover when the issues at hand seem as perplexed as they often do in the case of this dreadful conflict we are always on the verge of being mesmerized by uncertainty; but we must move on.

Some of us who have already begun to break the silence of the night have found that the calling to speak is often a vocation of agony, but we must speak. We must speak with all the humility that is appropriate to our limited vision, but we must speak. And we must rejoice as well, for surely this is the first time in our nation’s history that a significant number of its religious leaders have chosen to move beyond the prophesying of smooth patriotism to the high grounds of a firm dissent based upon the mandates of conscience and the reading of history. Perhaps a new spirit is rising among us. If it is, let us trace its movement well and pray that our own inner being may be sensitive to its guidance, for we are deeply in need of a new way beyond the darkness that seems so close around us.

Over the past two years, as I have moved to break the betrayal of my own silences and to speak from the burnings of my own heart, as I have called for radical departures from the destruction of Iraq, many persons have questioned me about the wisdom of my path. At the heart of their concerns this query has often loomed large and loud: Why are you speaking about war, Dr. King? Why are you joining the voices of dissent? Peace and civil rights don’t mix, they say. Aren’t you hurting the cause of your people, they ask? And when I hear them, though I often understand the source of their concern, I am nevertheless greatly saddened, for such questions mean that the inquirers have not really known me, my commitment or my calling. Indeed, their questions suggest that they do not know the world in which they live.

In the light of such tragic misunderstandings, I deem it of signal importance to try to state clearly, and I trust concisely, why I believe that the path from Dexter Avenue Baptist Church — the church in Montgomery, Alabama, where I began my pastorate — leads clearly to this sanctuary tonight.

I come to this platform tonight to make a passionate plea to my beloved nation. This speech is not addressed to Baghdad or to the insurgents. It is not addressed to Iran or to Syria.

Nor is it an attempt to overlook the ambiguity of the total situation and the need for a collective solution to the tragedy of Iraq. Neither is it an attempt to make the Sadr loyalists or the Sunni insurgents paragons of virtue, nor to overlook the role they can play in a successful resolution of the problem. While they both may have justifiable reason to be suspicious of the good faith of the United States, life and history give eloquent testimony to the fact that conflicts are never resolved without trustful give and take on both sides.

Tonight, however, I wish not to speak with Baghdad and the insurgents, but rather to my fellow Americans, who, with me, bear the greatest responsibility in ending a conflict that has exacted a heavy price on both continents.

[…]

Listen to the complete, original speech.

My father sent me an email the other day, encouraging my brother and I to go see Children of Men. Apparently, both the premise and the art direction of the film — shot in twisted, bleak, monochromatic settings — reminded my dad of Picasso’s Guernica.

When he mentioned the reference, he did so in a way as if I had no understanding of its impact as a piece of art. I responded that I’ve always admired the painting as extremely powerful. This was his response in turn:

A Note About GUERNICA:

As you must know, when Picasso finished this painting he gave it to the Modern in NYC with the understanding that it would be returned to Spain after Franco was no longer in power. When I came to New York in the late 50’s, I rediscovered this painting for I only had seen slides of it in art history when I was in college. The painting had its own room on the first floor… with many sketches on the other walls. I fell in love with the power of that painting. I studied its structure in-depth and I spent hours just sitting in that room, looking at every detail of the work.

In the 60’s when in the city on gallery visits I would go to the Modern JUST to visit with GUERNICA. I can’t imagine how many times I paid the entrance fee to the museum for that reason alone. I knew the painting so well that I could close my eyes and see certain brush strokes… it was like my GOOD friend. And, you know what happened… Franco was gone and the Modern living up to its promise shipped the work to Spain. Certainly, I missed the painting on my further visits to MOMA.

Eventually, we visited Spain… and Madrid… and the Prado. GUERNICA had its own room there with very special installation… it seemed to float in that space. When I entered that room, I was absolutely overwhelmed by the sight of the painting… I think I stopped breathing… I had to use all my skills NOT to weep for I was at that point. It was a powerful emotional experience for me. WOW, and after leaving the Prado, it took quite a while before I was really part of my surroundings.

I’ve looked back at that experience over time and I know that it wasn’t GUERNICA per se… it was the culmination of all my other visits and my study of the work… and the anticipation… as well as the painting itself… and it just all came together for me at that moment in the Prado. And that’s my note about GUERNICA.

-DAD

As always, thanks, Dad.