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AQC Release for Tuesday, February 22nd, 2010

Words: Craig Woods, Dan Tracy, Xánath Caraza, Nick Conseletti, Horacio Bustos interview by Hero MacKenzie, and Hernán David Camargo Luque.

Visuals: Meriel Longmore, jssc-swt (Jes), Timea T., Cate Rangel, Mauricio Javier González, Rebecca Etter, Guillermo Samperio, and Doug Rathbun.

Films: Max Ernst (Part 1/12) - A Film By Peter Schamoni, 1953 (lost clip #1) Directed by Vivian Giourousis, and 1971 Lucas/Youngblood Interview Excerpt.

[ previews and content links below ]

Tuesday, February 22nd, 2010

[ english translation below ]

Es demasiado fácil para nosotros dar por sentado nuestra libertad de expresión. Gran parte del mundo de habla española trabajó durante décadas bajo las dictaduras militares más crueles. Desde España hasta Chile, millones soportaron la opresión política, miles de personas - estudiantes, intelectuales, pacifistas, sindicalistas, incluso líderes de la Iglesia y funcionarios del gobierno - fueron secuestrados de sus hogares en la oscuridad de la noche, muchos torturados, muchos asesinados, muchos de ellos nunca vistos otra vez. El legado de los desaparecidos deja una cicatriz en toda América Latina. Hoy en día en Colombia, Venezuela, México y El Salvador, todavía hay opresión; las organizaciones paramilitares, de izquierda y derecha, junto con los carteles de criminales que siguen amenazando la esperanza de una sociedad libre. Las dictaduras fascistas del mundo de habla española no son distantes pero por la voz de hoy - de los escritores y artistas hispanos - estos delitos y sus víctimas no pueden ser olvidados. Esta semana, Antique Children publica obras del poeta colombiano, Hernán David Camargo Luque, un cuento de la escritora mexicana, Xanath Caraza, así como una entrevista con el artista argentino, Horacio Bustos. El hermano de Horacio, Miguel Ángel Bustos, fue un poeta argentino aclamado. Fue uno de los que desapareció en 1976. Esta edición electrónica está dedicada a él y todas las demás victimas…

Escucho la voz de las estrellas. Ella me dice que el espacio es infinito, que el tiempo es una utopía de nuestra sangre. Que las estrellas que habitan cada átono de nuestro cuerpo también nos están oyendo. Que el clamor es total y desesperado. Que la muerte es un sueño del cual despertamos en reino alucinante. ~ Miguel Ángel Bustos

~Hero MacKenzie

[ english translation ]

It’s too easy for us to take for granted our freedom of expression. Much of the Spanish speaking world laboured for decades under the most ruthless military dictatorships. From Spain to Chile, millions endured political oppression, thousands of people – students, intellectuals, pacifists, trade unionists, even Church leaders and government officials – were kidnapped from their homes in the dead of night, many tortured, many murdered, many never seen again. The legacy of the disappeared leaves a scar across Latin America. Even today in Colombia, Venezuela, in Mexico and El Salvador, there is still oppression; paramilitary organisations, both left and right, combined with criminal cartels that continue to menace the hope of a free society. The fascist dictatorships of the Spanish speaking world are not distant history but through today’s voice of Hispanic writers and artists these crimes and their victims can be remembered. This week, Antique Children publishes works by Colombian poet, Hernan David Carmago Luque, a short story by Mexican writer, Xánath Caraza, as well as an interview with the Argentine artist, Horacio Bustos. Horacio’s brother, Miguel Ángel Bustos, was an acclaimed Argentine poet. He was ‘disappeared’ by the military Junta in 1976. This issue is dedicated to him and all the other victims...

Escucho la voz de las estrellas. Ella me dice que el espacio es infinito, que el tiempo es una utopía de nuestra sangre. Que las estrellas que habitan cada átono de nuestro cuerpo también nos están oyendo. Que el clamor es total y desesperado. Que la muerte es un sueño del cual despertamos en reino alucinante. ~ Miguel Ángel Bustos

~ Hero MacKenzie

Works by Meriel Longmore and jssc-swt (Jes).

Everything Splinters

Craig Woods

I caught my breath in the desert heat. A sickly breeze stirred tumbleweeds and whistled plaintive melodies through the myriad wounds which peppered this palace of rust. The rollercoaster track had come to a halt among the faded fairground cadavers, its inert carriages bunched up like the prone segments of a dead caterpillar. Around us the ancient carousels and soulless merry-go-rounds, empty stalls and driverless dodgems festered in moribund stasis, the angles and contours of each vacant machine coalescing into a timeless geometry. Against an equally rusted sky the Big Wheel loomed like a colossal steel spider web. Here and there the edge of a gondola twitched slightly in the humid draught, miniscule movements which coaxed desperate moans of mechanical misery from the corroded joints. My limbo waited eagerly for an end to all this… 

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Works by Timea T. and Cate Rangel.

Fire in the Hole
Dan Tracy

The human body burns like a log of wood. First the thin layers of skin fry, then peels off as flames traverse across the surface. After approximately five minutes, thick dermal layers of skin shrink and split allowing the underlying yellow fat to ooze out, vaporizing as it burns. I witnessed this many years ago as a fellow inmate torched a pedophile in an adjoining cell next to mine. Pedophiles, after all, are nothing more than subhuman sewage, depraved, vile animals that need to be eliminated. They prey on defenseless, innocent children. They do not belong among the living. They barbecue quite readily.

Sam Cali had access to the prison maintenance room where he gathered the necessary materials; VM&P naphtha, Styrofoam peanuts---the pellet shaped ones used for packaging --–and a rubber hose. He filled a one gallon empty paint can with the Styrofoam, poured enough naphtha over the pellets dissolving them to the consistency of yogurt. To this paste Sam added quarter inch pieces of rubber cut from the hose. He tightly capped the home brew napalm, placed it on his maintenance cart concealing it among half a dozen paint cans. As a painter and a ‘Redhat’---a trustee able to roam at will ---Sam had complete freedom around the cellblock. He had access to all 600 cells. Sam parked his cart in front of my cell.

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Flor entre la bruma
por Xánath Caraza


Llegó así nada más sin avisar.  Era casi el mediodía, estaba sentado frente a la ventana que da a la calle, leía.  Muy despacio la oyó venir deslizándose sutilmente, de manera casi imperceptible.  Sólo unos oídos agudos la hubieran escuchado, él la reconoció.

La temperatura que la acompañaba penetró a través de sus poros, supo que era ella, entonces alzó la mirada.  La vio entrar con esos contrastes que la hacen única.  La descubrió flotando, etérea, brumosa y al mismo tiempo decidida, con paso firme, agresiva.

más leer...

[ english translation ]

Flower in the Mist
By Xánath Caraza


She arrived just like that without any warning.  It was about noon.  He was sitting in front of the window, the one which overlooks the street.  He was reading.  Very slowly he heard her coming, softly, in an almost indistinguishable manner.  Only a pair of sharp ears would have heard her, he recognized her. The heat of her presence penetrated his every pore.  He realized it was her, and then he looked up.  He saw her enter in the usual contradictory way that made her unique.  He discovered her floating, mystical, and at the same time decisive, aggressive in nature.

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Works by Mauricio Javier González, Rebecca Etter, and Guillermo Samperio.

Contextual Essays

Nick Consoletti

A. Introduction

This social action project examines a dialogue proposal by theoretical physicist Dr. David Bohm (1917 -- 1992) and his colleagues Donald Factor and Peter Garrett, who developed the approach of leaderless and agendaless participation in a large group. In a leaflet published in 1991, "Dialogue -- A Proposal," Bohm, Factor, and Garrett wrote: "We are proposing a kind of collective inquiry not only into the content of what each of us is, says, thinks, and feels but also into the underlying motivations, assumptions and beliefs that lead us to do so" (1). This constitutes my definition of dialogue throughout this essay.

I intend to explain my experience in a dialogue group I initiated and participated in from 1994 to 1999 at Eugene, Oregon. The group averaged twenty-three people during its first six months and around fifteen in its final six months. At this writing the group has met every other Thursday for approximately five years. Participants sit in a circle and pay attention to thought. I am defining thought as suggested by Lee Nichol in his foreword to Bohm’s Thought As A System (1992): "a process that includes intellect, emotions, reflexes and artifacts which interpenetrate systemically" (xi). Consequently, the active and the passive, concrete and abstract, collective and individual are all systemic as well. Bohm believed that humanity’s lack of understanding of the subtleties of thought is the essential dilemma of our time. Nichol writes: "[Bohm] suggests that collective thought and knowledge have become so automated that we are in large part controlled by them, with a subsequent loss of authenticity, freedom and order" (ix). Bohm proposed that we could learn about thought through the understanding of proprioception. He reasoned that since there is proprioception of the body, individuals should also have such an action for thought. He asked us to suspend our habit of defining and solving problems and attend to thought as if for the first time. Bohm said that proprioception is related to insight, which is a subtle intelligence he called active information, which is of a different order than ordinary mind/matter experiencing. In Bohm’s view, if we pay attention to thought we can dissipate the reflexes that have developed as habits of thought. An example of such a reflex is an explicated assumption, as illustrated by John Briggs, who was involved with a dialogue experiment originally initiated by Dr. David Shainberg.

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Showing: Max Ernst (Part 1/12) - A Film By Peter Schamoni, 1953 (lost clip #1) Directed by Vivian Giourousis, and 1971 Lucas/Youngblood Interview Excerpt.

Obligado Mochilero
Hernán David Camargo Luque


Caminante de las espesuras, amargo verde
Techos naturales que confunden mi sendero
Mi hogar ahora invadido, lluvia de rayos amarillos
Avispas hibridas entre metal y fuego
Huyendo de ellas,  mis letras se desvanecen
La pintura natural se evapora, gran verde, fuerte naranja
El cielo azul, ahora rojo, mis dioses lloran
Familias sucumben, suelos convulsionados
Vuelan cuerpos, cielo sollozante
Gris y naranja dentro del verde de mi tierra
Hormigas somos entre verdaderas termitas

más leer...

Bajo Mundo
Hernán David Camargo Luque


Publicaciones dentro del mundo underground
La calle mi oficina y deleite del devenir transeúnte
Obras dispersas entre ideas vagas dentro de la homogeneidad
Sociedad cuadriculada que no tolera un libre pensar
Oligarquía, inmersa independencia imaginaria
Peatones que renunciaron a su autonomía de pensar
Siguen lo que sus líderes profesan ¡absoluta verdad!
Pero un oprimido más entre la libertad callejera
Tejiendo historias de la cruel realidad
Epistemología en minorías
Ni abatidas ni vencidas
Combatientes de letras tomar,
En conjunto mostramos la encubierta gran verdad
Por las dictaduras del arte que desean doblegar
La voz del pueblo que en oleos y pinceladas

¡Expresa su protestar!

Work by Doug Rathbun.

‘El Místico en estado Salvaje’: Una entrevista con Horacio Bustos.
Aquí el artista argentino ‘fantástico’ habla de su obra, sus ideas y su vida bajo de las dictaduras opresivas.

Hero MacKenzie


¿Cómo llegaste a ser un artista? ¿Cómo descubriste el arte como una manera de expresarte?
Yo creo absolutamente en el destino. Yo no llegue a “ser” artista, yo nací para ser artista, y recorrí el camino predeterminado, que me llevo a “descubrirlo”.

¿Puedes hablar sobre la evolución y el desarrollo de tus ideas?
Yo vivo en arte. No tengo horarios. No hay rutina pero trabajo de día y varias horas, pero mientras, hago otras cosas, por ejemplo cocinar que me encanta, mi cabeza sigue funcionado con alguna obra que está en factura. Generalmente, no como durante el día y me alimento de café, humo y cuando tengo sed, cerveza. Agua únicamente para bañarme. Yo soy un excéntrico que a veces hace cosas normales.

¿Puedes explicar el proceso y el método de tu arte?
Debo aclarar que soy autodidacta en todos los campos. Si hay alguna manifestación artística que me subyuga, que me apasiona, no paro hasta que la concreto. El proceso se va gestando lentamente, hasta que llega el momento “del parto” y me lanzo a concretarlo, como el que efectúa una crisálida en su espera de metamorfosis a mariposa. No tengo métodos pero tengo técnicas, muchas descubiertas por mí, secretas e intransferibles.

más leer...

[ english translation ]

‘The Wild Mystic’: An interview with Horacio Bustos.
Here the ‘fantastic’ Argentine artist talks of his work, his ideas, and his life under oppressive dictatorship.

Hero MacKenzie


How did you become an artist? How did you discover art as a means of expressing yourself?

I believe in destiny. I didn’t become an artist, I was born an artist and I am discovering a predetermined path.

Can you talk about the evolution and development of your ideas?
I live in art. I have no timetable, no routine. I work all day at various times, but I do other things too, for example, I love cooking with my mind always focusing on the piece I am working. I don’t really eat during the day. I just drink coffee, smoke cigarettes and when I’m thirsty, I’ll have a beer. Water’s just for bathing in. I’m eccentric who sometimes does normal things.

Can you talk about the process and method of your art?
I should clarify that I am self taught in all fields. If there is any artistic manifestation that captivates me, that fascinates me, I won’t stop until it’s complete. The process develops gradually until the moment of ‘conception, and then I’ll finish it off. The process is similar to a cocoon waiting to metamorphosise into a butterfly. I don’t have methods. I have some techniques, but I discover by myself, secret, enigmatic.

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