Author Archive for silvia

Installation

I want to make an installation. As long as I didn’t make it yet, let’s call this post a virtual installation, as I am about to install it in virtual spaces: Internet and your consciousness. You can imagine yourself in it. It is real.

The idea for this installation is to present the viewers with a large amount of words and sentences scattered all over the walls and ceiling of a room. Words come from poems of my own and the language of the city, will be presented in a discontinued and non-sensual way. Although an attentive reading will give meanings and connections between all words and verses. Because of the disposition of the sentences on the walls, less attentive readers will experiment words flashing to them from a wall to another. There is an intended interaction-game to involve viewers into exploring the installation by themselves and getting something out of it. This consists on a game in which visitors will be given a piece of paper and a pen and will be told to make their own verses picking up randomly some of the given words.
The game will be explained on a piece of paper stuck on the door
as follows:

The important fact about urban living: the continued stream of second attention awareness. Every license plate, street sign, passing strangers, are saying something to you.
W. Burroughs

take a piece of paper and a pen before entering the room
inside will be some words which will choose you
write them down on the paper
fell free to shape them as you like
pin your paper on the window and
take with you the one telling you something

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Rant

You cannot write a single line w/out a cosmology
a cosmogony
laid out, before all eyes
there is no part of yourself you can separate out
saying, this is memory, this is sensation
this is the work I care about, this is how I***
make a living
it is whole, it is a whole, it always was whole
you do not “make” it so
there is nothing to integrate, you are a presence
you are an appendage of the work, the work stems from***
hangs from the heaven you create
every man / every woman carries a firmament inside
& the stars in it are not the stars in the sky
w/out imagination there is no memory
w/out imagination there is no sensation
w/out imagination there is no will, desire
history is a living weapon in yr hand
& you have imagined it, it is thus that you
“find out for yourself”
history is the dream of what can be, it is
the relation between things in a continuum
of imagination
what you find out for yourself is what you select
out of an infinite sea of possibility

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Welcome to Tijuana…( a manifesto)

A Border Is…

BORDER CULTURE IS A polysemantic term.
Stepping outside of one´s culture is equivalent
to walking outside of the law.
Border culture means boycott, complot, ilegalidad,
clandestinidad, contrabando, transgresión,
desobediencia binacional; en otras palabras,
to smuggle dangeros poetry and utopian visions
from one culture to another, desde allá, hasta acá.
But it also means to maintain one´s dignity outside the law.
But it also means hybrid art forms for new contents
in gestation: spray mural, techno-altar, poetryintongues,
audiograffity, punkarachi, videocorrido, antibolero, antitodo:
art world: en otras palabras y tierras, an art against the
monolingües, police´s monoculture, tapados, nacionalistas,
esteticistas en extinción…
But it also means to be fluid in English, Spanish, Spanglish and Ingleñol. Cause Spanglish is the language of border diplomacy.
But it also means transcultural friendship and
collaboration among races, sexes, and generations.
But it also means to practice creative appropriation,
Expropriation and subversion of dominant cultural forms.
But it also means a new cartography; a brand new map
To host the new project; the democratisation of the East;
the socialisation of the West; the ThirdWorldisation of the North and the FirstWorldisation of the South.
But it also means a multiplicity of voices away from the center, different geo-cultural relations among more culturally akin regions: Your home and mine, digamos, a new internationalism postcentris.
But it also means regresar y volver a partir: to return and
depart once again. Cause border culture is an experience
and to arrive is just an illusion.
But it also means a new terminology for new
Hybrid identities, constantly metamorphosing:
Sudaca, hispanic, mestizaje, social thinker, not bohemian-accionista, performer, intercultural and postpostmodern.
But it also means to develop new models to
interpret the world-in-crisis, the only world we know.
But it also means to push the borders of countries
and languages or, better said, to find new languages
to express the fluctuating borders.
But it also means experimenting with the fringes between art
and society, legalidad and ilegality, English and Español,
male and female, North and South, self and other
and subverting these relationships.
But it also means to speak from the subconsciente,
desde acá, desde el medio. The border is the juction not the edge and monoculturalism has been expelled from the margins.
But it also means grassroots, raíces, not government´s
censorship, for censorship as racism is the opposite of border culture.
But it also means to analyse critically all that lies on
the current table of devates; multiculturalism, the latino, ethic-ethnic art, even border art.
But it also means to question and transgress border culture.
What today is powerful and necessary, tomorrow is arcane and ridiculous; what today is border culture, tomorrow is institutional art, never vice versa.
But it also means to escape the current co-optation
of border culture.
But it also means to look at the past and the future at the same time. 1492 was the beginning of a genocidal era.
Soon, a new internationalism will have to gravitate around
our spinal cord.
Not just Europe, not just the North, not just white,
not only you, compañero compañerita del otro lado
de la frontera, el lenguaje y el océano.

Silvia

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The fat woman

The fat woman is shouting about History
she launches sharp sentences
like a slice of tin.
In roofs made of silver
by lubricating skies,
the fat woman hangs smiles
on a butcher’s hook
while she puts fetuses into a pile.

She says that a knife in the flesh
hurts less than nothing in the flesh,
that the stock exchange will became moss
and sand will cover the hungry,
that from the cloned rose to the bank
there is tight wire, which crosses the dreams
of every poor child.

The fat woman
swimming between the glasses of the drunkards
with her dress made of smoke
of the infinite burning
which maintains things alive,
her voice echo of a claim
between the unheard and the unsaid,
improvised postphilosophy for a new era
the one that predicts inspired moments.

Waiting

she sticks her nail on every stalk
leaving in the corners
slit open insects
and tearing out dry landscapes
from the newspaper photos
which will run to the sea
like abandoned objects.

Silvia

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