I am Not a Dancer....

 Some Have Influenced Me Profoundly.


I don't really connect myself to the Dancer lineage.  I feel that those artist master their craft beyond what I can do, but I see now that there are and have been influential Dancers in my life.  As I get older I am finding a long yet loose thread to some kind of lineage.  Maybe my teenage angst is finally receding.  Now I can except my elders more respectfully. 

Maybe the first Dancer was Michael 'Boogaloo Shrimp' Chambers ,"Turbo" in the movie breaking. His sweep piece still sends chills through my body.   Ko Murobushi, which a couple of years before his passing followed me on FB...just a lil possibly meaningless accomplishment.  Of course my long time teacher/ sages the Tamano's.  I learn something new each time just interacting with Hiroko Tamano.  Lessons beyond movement.  She is the closest I have experienced to a sage in my life.  The closest that has changed it.  Thank you profoundly.

Yesterday I saw one of these few influential Dancers in my life perform, Oguri.  Oguri is based in Venice, Ca and like the others I mentioned has continued to develop his craft throughout his life.  Seemingly ageless, something about his and Hiroko’s form that seem to not fear death but embrace the existence of the body, not to destroy it but be in it, sense in it, exist in it, understanding its fragility, and respecting it.  Not to say they wish to be immortal...not at all.  They stare at mortality and make it their intimate friend, not their over indulgent co-conspirator.  This and their soft view on life and movement I believe slows their existence...a stroll to smell the flower on their chest.

I always have a profound experience watching Oguri.  Yesterday was no different.  In his form I see humanity, its ugliness, its silliness, its frailness and the way trauma can fracture it; transmuting these pieces into something wholesome, and healing.  This piece I saw was about death and how our love ones from our childhood become the lovers of our present.  How in dreams and memories these things blur, we embrace, this embrace becomes a holding of what was once before, a hope to remember a warmth from the past.  We are just children hoping to be loved. Hoping to hold a familiar warm hand.  Hoping to have someone there to tell us, it’s ok.  To hold us to their chest and kiss us on our small foreheads.

Yet in life we sometimes are alone.  Sometime we are scared.  Sometimes we are broken.  This is life, without this darkness the washing that is love would not feel so sweet. 

I wonder why memory, for me, is so fresh in soreness.  This lesson of memory as a warm fire, is a new one for me, it is something I am learning.

Thank you to my elders, thank you to the people I love.

My darkness finds home in your light. 

Divinebrick in Collaboration with Mike Meanstreez and Z.Vital @ Human Resources LA May 10, 2016

May 10, 2016 9:30 pm

Human Resources, Los Angeles, Chinatown
410 Cottage Home St
Los Angeles CA
90012 

in collaboration with Mike Meanstreetz from the LA band Present (drums) and Z. Vital (loop effects) to close this circle.

Bass pushing air, creaking, cracking a wooden device called the Basso, to set the bio and molecular rhythm of the space. A device, part bazooka subwoofer speaker, part drum, and part bellowing feedback loop. Supplier of urban noise this wooden sub-woofer will be the splintered connection to indigenous past. A past rooted in a vibration.  A slight alteration.  

A exploration in movement called Corporeal Reformation will occupy the rest of this space. Inner woven reaction to time, space voice and body, will be aided by the pulse of the sub, riding on witnesses inside a WhiteBox as landscape with their collective voices to activate our collective memory.

Sound, Movement and Voices will, I hope, conjure somewhat of a memory in us all.  A dormant behavior that is of a collective experience and a collective understanding.  If only for a second, a fleeting moment of understanding, may we forget the destructive philosophy that we follow without question.  This “performance” is more of a hot box of possibility.
 
Free to voice yourself.  We will need you to be the creepy crawlers in a night by the lake.  The many gorgeous songs on a perfect night while we form the body of water and the movement of the sky.  Be the bubbling pot that is the voices at a crowded bar.  The musical conversations on a semi crowded bus.  The silly conversation over heard by reason of proximity.  This WhiteBox will converge to be a primordial soup of abstraction of Growth and collective participation, a dance easily achieved by living.

This is a collaboration, concept by DivineBrick, vocal loops by Z. Vital, and textures and rhythm by Mike Meanstreetz.  At center the Basso.


Trying to reclaim some sort of indigenous or forgotten belief or behavior is close to impossible when these things have been destroyed or co-opted. Where does one turn if their past does not exist to borrow from it? Sometimes the things that the colonizer has stereotyped as “indigenous” become the only symbols on which to connect to, either in act of dissent or in hopes of connection. This will further convolute this already broken system. This semiotics are also the way the colonizers themselves find ways of connecting to more holistic styles of existing. Unearthing resources and the destruction of land not only uproots the indigenous people but also further removes the colonizer from forgotten memories of coexisting, not occupation of this land and its inhabitants (this includes plants and animals). Soon the definition of colonizer and the colonized bleeds into a convoluted One.

*instructions will be give on arrival.

josie j, Mike Meanstreetz and Z. Vital have collaborated on may projects and events including Parallax Beach (An exploration in primordial development in time).

 
https://mikemeanstreetz.bandcamp.com/
http://poopdood.bandcamp.com

FB Event-  https://www.facebook.com/events/986952711382236/

HR website- http://humanresourcesla.com/calendar-events



  

Proposal For Human Resources LA Decolonize LA

Proposal for “Raze the WhiteBox”

To raze the WhiteBox will be a symbolic action of a greater deconstruction.  Working within models of colonization will only develop concepts consumed by colonizing behaviors.  Dismantling of this gallery space would be the only method to decolonizing it.

The WhiteBox (any gallery or museum space that hermetically isolates artwork) in its design and conception will always contain/own an object or thought.  Property and borders are red flags of colonization.  Dismantling a structure which is designed to contain objects and thoughts within 6 sides would be the action to decolonize it.  Cement is not fertile ground, it is dead inactive space.  A public space that allows community, inspiration and creativity does not exclusively exist as a collection or claim to ownership as does a museum or gallery.  Community, inspiration, and creativity by their very nature will always remain fluid and un-owned.  These three concepts only empower when used by the collective mass.  The process of decolonizing spaces will involve replacing structures in which people collectively perform these concepts.

The remaining land, once this WhiteBox is dismantled, should be a network in which Peoples (any groups that have internalized a colonialist ideology) can regain a culture, but also regain what mother nature once offered in its harsh but nurturing way. The colonization of a People resulted at times with a simultaneous colonization of the land as well.  Returning the land to its state of natural symbiosis will plant the seed of change that is necessary for this wounded earth to remember its role and for us to see its glory.  This demolition is the only holistic therapy/ cathartic ritual that will remember the many forgotten People, forgotten knowledge, and resources that the colonizers either stole or destroyed.  A WhiteBox and its confining walls symbolically and literally censor the past and the land onto which it has rooted itself.

The demolition will be followed by the introduction of indigenous plants and animals.  This will inhabit the majority of the land and be integrated in whatever else is built.  Some land will remain for agriculture and a stage/ gathering area for community and artist use.  In the decolonization of this WhiteBox we must not forget about the inheritors of the colonized state of mind, the children.   A place in which children could learn how to engage with nature and relearn the art of symbiosis would replace the structures that now exist on 410 Cottage Home St.  If any structures will be built, they will remain small, since the land itself should provide a stage or setting for most things.  Monetary means are intangible compared to community action and the blood and sweat of artist and activist. The land will be kept by its users.

 If life is art how can life exist in a vacuum?  Can the only definition of what art is be contained within a closet, which doors are only opened by someone with the means to own this space? Art removed from life, suffocated in a crate... Is this inspiration?  Is art an object free from worldly interaction? Is it a phenomenon sheltered by the very thing that causes its chain-reaction?   Transporting artwork produces waste, does this ill benefit this earth?  Is a space built like a fortress a structure that welcomes the collective mass?

The brick unit is the beginning of growth. The straight lines imprisons the dirt, the self, the ripple of effect. - Raze the WhiteBox: A Think Tank of Change

May 1, 2016

On Art Practice and Corporeal Reformation

The practice that is this work is not about criticizing colonialism,  it is a allegorical response.  A very personal response that I might sometimes consider a universal response.   The hope is to filter down not the philosophy but the intent, to get to that universalism.  A simple state of being that is efficient only in its holistics.   Free of biases and specialization, my hopes is to find a way to learn and observe, to live and exist, to breath and touch, to forget by remembering.  For now I see this universality as growth, be it cancer, population or regeneration.  Finding the precise balance to explore the external and the internal self is one of the challenges with this exploration of this growth.  Why the self?  It is the first sensor that we are given to understand this Growth.  I theorize then that this must be the best at understanding this Growth, holistically each part of the self canceling out the inherent biases.  

This exploration as it pertains to the physical and movement I have called Corporeal Reformation.  Corporeal Reformation is the act of remembering and learning.  It seems to me that performance work is the most radical thing I can do with art.  It sets no boundaries between active and passive.  We all become part of the community once again.  My question would be which community is this we are suddenly a part of when experiencing a performance.  The performer or the audience?  Are we invading or uniting?  Depending on approach a public performance can be a continuous state of colonizing.  I think the only way to remedy this is by the passive and the active both being in full effect, and transferring between the hosts (the colonized and the settler). 

So it seems that the act of decolonizing can be many messy deeds. In a post-colonial system the colonized and the settler becomes muddled and both become agents of each others restrictions.  They both share the initiation rituals of the colonized.  Both share symbols and stories in which the powers that be, the first settlers have establish.  The colonized start to assimilate the settlers approach,  find new land, growth credited partly from new places that one has never seen nor understood.  The settlers lost in empty promises lose their own heritage in hopes that assimilation and whitism will provide more than what came before, since it has made a few wealthy and untouchable.  Little do they know that the settlers are cattle just as the colonized are the human resource that is a staple of an industrialized nation. 

The Sun Bear (three legs and a rail) ep4

Relatives,

I have been seeking a way, a form, a complete practice in which to exercise actions and thoughts that coincide with larger actions and thoughts that would allow behavioral growth.  Understanding the mechanics and behaviors of this growth was also of interest.  I seek a way to understand while I am actively changing the space in a way single to me, but part of a universal whole in which I am trying to understand.  Causing shifts which rearrange enough to comprehend anew, but not losing the string that pulls me to the center.  This is my present lesson. That seems the most human to me or the human I seek to be.  A searcher of unknowable truths.  A believer in forgotten mistakes.

Destruction is just a small aspect of rebuilding.  When rebuilding, my mind thinks, this is when drive must be channeled. Fire does not need direction, everywhere is its path. 

The most literal understanding of what I mean when I say all those vague concepts I chirp all the time, my only straight forward and simple representation and lesson is my work bench.  Beauty do to function and simplicity.  Growth enabled by necessity and a giants fall.

standing in the woodshop of csulb (wood major department)

I needed a bench to work on.  I had the wood.  The know how I fumbled through.  Each mistake reset with the only skill I did have, the only one we all have, to ride the wave on which we travel skirting on the right angle just enough to continue forward, finding aesthetics in falling upward a spiral step.  To move is chaos. To have continuous movement seems to be the harder drive, the more deliberate tendency.

This work bench maybe a certain kind of perpetual.  Either perpetually in my life time or the Sun Bears.

 To catch up on the previous post:
post 1 http://dbrp.blogspot.de/2011/07/sun-bear-my-roubo-workbench.html 
post 2 http://dbrp.blogspot.de/2012/11/the-sun-bear-jig-and-router_19.html
post 3 http://dbrp.blogspot.ru/2015/06/the-sun-bear-lifes-future.html

 old tenons removed but not smoothed

My Bench is up to working condition but let me show you how I re-arrived there.  The last I spoke of the Sun Bear I was speaking of the maple plug planed and ready for the next lamination.  Since I cut off the old tenons of the third leg I was left with less material for the tail of the sliding dovetail.  The dovetail that would replace the failed fox joint that originally held the third leg in place. The walnut addition allow me to have the material to make the socket and tail of the sliding dovetail and hit my target height.  It's an ad-hoc aesthetic that I found both silly and harshly contrasting.  Which I enjoy.

Figuring the height was a bit forgiving.  If my measurements of this moving bench were off I would simply have to flatten out the top to correct the angle that would be off.  Of course even though this top has moved drastically it at one point started true.  This is still prevalent in the left side of the bench.   The area between the two twin dovetails of the first two legs were pretty square, some movement.  Those were the strongest of the joints in the work bench.  From there it went from bad to worse...but more about that in the next post.  Saving me a noodle ache when flatting the top I made sure my estimates were true. 

first two walnut pieces

I glued it in the same multi-step method as the maple.

must have gotten too excited this is the only picture of this stage. But you get the idea.

dried and flat

When all the smoothing was done the beauty of the walnut really revealed itself.  It has a gorgeous curl in the grain.  Can't remember where this walnut came from.  Possibly arts school.  My feet have a great view of it when I work.  That's if they look up.

smoothed and ready for the table saw
 top of third leg on which the dovetail will be cut

  Most often the table saw is a highly accurate tool, only if your reference for the cut starts from a square point.

The portions of the third leg that were once square were: the foot, the potion of the slab (slab dims 2 x 16 3/8 x 27 1/4h in.) that enters the foot (foot dims 23 x 3.5x 3.5h in.), the portion of the slab that enters the top of the bench.  As I did when I first built the bench I picked a squarish side, made it more square, then made everything in the general proximity of the parts that would be riding on the table saw square.  Square from there, opposite side as well.

  I did a survey of all the planes and angles of the legs and top and figured which way to fudge and how much.  A very intuitive approach.  Once I made sure the sides of the leg were parallel I finished removing the remaining buds that were the failed fox joint tenons.  The narrow side remained with the natural edge.  Setting the saw to an angle I decided...I just went on how much I needed to angle based on the density and brittleness of the wood (to much of an angle I risk failure on the pointy parts of the dovetail), then I went ahead and made the first pair of cuts down the length riding on the narrow side at the top.

first two cuts done on the tail

I honestly don't remember what I used to cut the length of the cut.  I think I chiseled some of it then cut the rest with my hand saw.  You can see it in the picture.
 

  At certain points in my general making, I still seem to hit mental blockade.  A now too uncomfortably familiar paralyzing unwelcomed friend.  I sometimes think it is a natural instinct to protect the self.  Or maybe it's a crossed wire on a feedback loop. 

  For me, my personal experience, my demise waits patiently behind hesitation.  The only problem in knowing this is knowing how to temper my willingness to jump.  This willingness has pushed my psyche, my flesh self, my general growth.  I realize this has also cause unwanted effect.  One example is this next step. 

I thoroughly measured this next cut.  The groove for the sliding dovetail.  I decided to use a circular saw to help me make the recess.  My first cut went perfect. down the center.  Stopping short of going through the whole of the newly replaced underside of the bench (I thought it would look neat if the third leg looked like it got shot out and embedded into the top). The second one was just as well, angle true.

The other side of the angled groove, this cut is where I saw myself going out of the marked line.  I had a chance to stop.  I just continued.  I'm not sure if I continued out of impatience or just for the challenge to fix another mistake.  Even though the whole time it felt purposeful, I regretted the cut as soon as I ended it.

This inconvenience left me with a slightly wide groove towards the stop in the cut.  A stopped reverse tapered sliding dovetail.

first cut down the middle

cut stopped short (used one of my winding sticks for the fence)

another view

Guess by this time I was too preoccupied with measuring to take more pictures.

groove cut and cleaned

I chopped the rest of the groove and cleaned it out with the chisel.

the third leg placed (also compensated for the very slight wind in the leg, that's why it looks at an angle)

The fit was good enough to require a couple of shims.

I added dowels to secure the lamination (I put few just to see if the need to expand and contracted could be curved)

maple and ficus shims

added some copper nails

To not forget this mistake I made sure I could see those shims.

third leg and rail secured

Setting these shims was the last step to make the Sun Bear able to stand.

After forcing a few more shims here and there to really lock in the legs (these were tiny compared to the other ones) I was content to start the flatting of the bench.

I remember when I last thought of retrofitting this failed fox joint.  A blue moon ago I started the work.  Because of lack of equipment, interest in other arts, and the influence of corporate work that lots of artist feel must me done to be feed, this project had been in slumber.  In need of making is the catalyst that revived it.

Next post on the Sun Bear will be about it's flatting and clamping additions.

Thoughts on Central Ave. Jazz Festival

I have been tinkering with this idea of source.


When you are striped from your past removed from the source, mechanisms to make the real reasonable are distorted, reality keeps for the Other.  In the past few days I have been thinking about lineage.  at this moment I feel lineage is what helps memory retain the reason and the drive to move in the desired direction.

This weekend I attended the Central Avenue Jazz Festival.  There I witness lineage and connection.  Majority of the attendees were very aware of their lineage.  Locals that have lived through LA’s  segregation/ or separation that still leave noticeable divides in the land. 

I try to comprehend what it feels like to be fenced into a certain sector of the geographical scape?  What kind of thoughts would you have if it was still hard to live in any other place?  What if they told you, you were wrong.  Wrong for thinking there was still such a thing as segregation.  What feelings would you be able to construct when White Reason (I find it twisted to use this faulty binary race code)  still does not explain your present condition.  In the while the Other imposes on your community.  If you can understand what it is to see the affiliated family you adhere to still being seen as alien natives, African Americans, what sentiment would you gain.  Here as long as any other non-native, yet acceptance only for the "positive" end of this two sided spectrum. 

While walking around the festival, when I wasn't stuffing my face, I saw a community holding on to a genius culture but subjugated to self hate, which has attacked other communities as well.  Still I saw so much joy and love.  The music was enjoyable to every last note.  The caliber of musicianship brought to the doorsteps of community was too much for me to contain.  At this time in my age I find perfect joy in seeing others bask in spectrum's I only peek at.  A stare of the two.  Exchanges that only two felt shaping them as old memories and last favorites.  This community is rich with decades and elders, talent and unapologetic genius.  Roots are deep.  Lineage is strong. 

Me, my name is as generic as josie j.  End trails of clustered culture attached behind me.  Too strange to forget the past, subtly remembering mine, actively constructing its future.  The un-anchoring both forced and sought.  I hope to find some lineage.  I might see how lineage finds its flower at the end of a long system of tendon-roots infinitely connected.

How connected?  Live in LA long enough and the roots will grab you by the leg.  Major Garcetti, old jr. high schoolmate Anthony Wilson (son of Gerald Wilson), played a surprisingly clean small piano solo, a bit shaky at first but pleasant. As I can attest to live a life time in LA and you would see yourself another character in this interconnected landscape. On this same day of July 25 2015, LA dedicated 42nd and Central Ave as Gerald Wilson Square.  Gerard Wilson of Shelby, Mississippi arrived here in 1940 because it was a place that welcomed and allowed him certain access.  The Dunbar hotel located on Central Ave. was the nicest hotel that welcomed black musicians.  Gerald Wilson remained in LA living a few steps from his community, historically rich Leimert park.  A jazz giant.  An artist uniting his community.  He lived with his wife Josefina Wilson, modestly.  Artists construct our reality we owe them for our sanity.  They all should live a bit above their choosing of comfort.  An Artist and a teacher Gerald Wilson was everything an artist aspires to be.  Influential, respected and remembered, a good man. 

I walked along the festival streets and write this as an outsider, welcomed in a beautiful culture that I see myself a part of.  Born on foreign land removed from source. A different character connected to a lineage of colonization.  A crusade victorious in embedding its symbols and drives.  In this binary you can only fall on one side if you are heavy with color and conviction.

The Sun Bear (Roubo Inspired Workbench) ep3

The Sun Bear

(continuation of the retrofit)

Followers,

It has been quite a while since I have posted about The Sun Bear, a Roubo inspired workbench.   My obsession with it has kept me in the studio more than may be healthy in the last few months. Joking of course. The studio practice is a beautiful yet sometimes isolating, an unsaid reality...sometimes.   A project that started...I actually don't remember the birth of the Sun Bear...this is evidence of my neglect, of a beautiful time in my life, and the realization that I will present with this process of rebuilding.  A realization that becomes more solidified as I work on this beast.

*if you are familiar with the past post on this project please continue on.  if you wish to read these first click on these

post1
http://dbrp.blogspot.de/2011/07/sun-bear-my-roubo-workbench.html

 post 2
http://dbrp.blogspot.de/2012/11/the-sun-bear-jig-and-router_19.html


Looking back on my notes it is hard to pin point the birth to 2007,...possibly 2006 in thought.   I know I had it early in 2008.  A year full of fear, love, and memories that are now intimately connected to my art. Looking back on my notes I found that at times I failed to date my thoughts.  Also failed at writing more than I had wished. ..but that feeling forever never satisfied.    

Flipping through my thoughts I found a picture which explained the obvious haze.  Until now I see, that picture was dated 2002 a thought only to fruit in 2006. A picture of the moment I first saw a dream manifest in an institutional hallway of school.  Of course my attention at this time was divided among my divine idealistic muse (my Art Belief)  and this earthly dark angel in the picture.  While tracing back and reflecting on my work and my notes its hard not to re-examaine myself.  Only now a welcoming feeling.

My Bench reflects time spent adjusting and rebuilding self and ideals, simultaneously.  A map of growth.  A continually living being.  If you recall I last left the Sun Bear bottom flatten ready for the maple glue up. 

ok ok I know the pics I will show look posed but I actually work pretty organized now

I hope to catch the good light that sometimes happens in my shop

Tales from the Notebook

I had a few ideas of how to rebuild this fox joint that went awry.  I thought many over but finally settled on this method that includes a lot of intuition and impatience thrown in.  Experiencing still some immaturity.

Just like my Undergrad professor Fred Rose, I see myself as a wood explore.  I must remember each piece of wood came from a whole.  A living Whole.

trying to get out of  the habit of putting the plane on its side

 I chose to use reclaimed maple from a work table top which I acquired from the science department of CSULB, continuing the legacy of this Long Beach resident that once was this bench.  While I attended Cal State, the university decided to remodel and throw out lots of amazing specimens of the yester years of science.  Microbiology being their new emphasis.


 After ripping sticks 11 1/4  x 1 1/2  x 1 1/2, with my new table saw...*clears throat*...fuckin aye finally... I left some with the original table top varnish,   I dry fitted the pieces.  

Before I glued in the maple I glued in the walnut I decided to use to fill in the grooves I talked about in the previous post.  A quick second to spend sometime talking about which way to glue the maple...with the grain of the iron bark or against.  Since these woods most likely have different moisture content and rate of expansion.  I was torn on what to do.  I am not very versed in wood characteristics,  (doubt much exists on iron bark) I kinda just went with my best judgement.  Since the laminated piece will be spanning past the bench top both the top and lamented piece will expand and contract width wise individually with no real risk of tearing each other apart.  Wood expands longitudinally insignificant amounts so their should be little to no risk...at least fixable risk. 

Presently I have a limited amount of clamps.  Which added to this adhoc method to measure the structure of instability.  With the understand of what is the final failing point one can reel back and find the maximum efficiency.  Sounds a bit militant industrial now speaking it, but it is a method that I have come to used when dealing with unknown answers to hard art problems.  You can never have too many claps.  

My approach hinged on the limit of my clamps.  I think I glued 2-3 sticks at a time.  

I had a lil fun with minimal clamping.  Hopefully within tolerance.  

 You can see the old tenons of the fox joint of the third leg in the back left.

Once dried I leveled out the maple replacement.  Too be clear this is the bottom of the bench where the third leg belongs.   Some of the pieces are just free floating. I need to still reenforce these with dowels.  Nicely accenting it.  If you look closely at the picture above you can see by this time I cut off the old tenons of the fox joint on the leg.  I work on many things at once mostly if the projects require breaks.  The maple is now ready for the next layer of wood I decided to add... more on that later

 I will continue on the next post with the final glue up and problems dealing with an un-square object plus the start of the sliding dovetail I decided to go with for the retrofit of the fox joint.  until next time

deciphering the roots-

DBL

The Búto Flúto: Reflections on Self Derived Relics

I am Media.

I am the Media.

We are the brick wall woven into a circle.  A flat sphere with no borders.

El centro es el ojo.  Aqui los encontramos.

El Central, donde se cerra el ojo.

Si se manifica se repete.  

*      *     *     *     *     *

The Búto Flúto

A Self Derived Ceremonial headpiece.
Made of mahogany reclaimed from an old Baptist church/ Pentecostal Church in South LA.  The Búto Flúto also consists of poplar wood, steam bent ash from the city of Long Beach, purple heart wood, a hacked Gakken Anolog Synth (SX-150), a custom pre-amp with circuit bending copper contact points, wires, a mic and speaker which is the wooden conical shape. 

It has been with me since 2008.  It has broken many times and can be fussy. 

The sound... it does some interesting things that I am still figuring.  Do to the mic and speaker in close proximity it does a feed back loop similar to most of my wooden speaker box art sculptures.  Because it is a noisy circuit (not very well insulated) It is sensitive to magnetic fields and radio waves, which add interesting behaviors coupled with its SX-150 sound. The circuit bended pre-amp has a flutey sound to it and can rise and lower in pitch when finger are slid along the copper.


There is a track playing in the back ground but most of the sound is the Búto Flúto (on a loop pedal) since it was recorded through its built in mic and speaker. The recorder was held to the speakers funnel.




It has developed it own meaning which I am still understanding.  Steeming from punk anarcho angst, indigenous stirrings, reflecting respect for the ancestral trees, experiments with electricity, now turning into a critique of transhumanistic ironical twist which requires me to add metal hardware (on a piece once only made of wood joinery) for speedy assembly and transportation, but mostly do to damage from performances or general use. A work in flux. 
I hope you get to hear it sometime.  I will be with me on tour.

Photo by Vishal Goklani

fresh and new

2008

no syth, wings were once longer
Photos by  Jeremy Eichenbaum

2014

Photo by Brenn Lowe Graphics by josie j