New Mexico Remix Text by Idris Goodwin • Mural by Chaz Bojórquez
A collaboration for STREET ARTS: A Celebration of Hip Hop Culture & Free Expression
Mural on view in Street Text: Art From the Coasts & The Populist Phenonenom at 516 ARTS October 2 – December 11, 2010 Text performed live by Idris Goodwin at the KiMo Theatre presented by 516 ARTS & The Outpost Performance Space November 6, 2010
516 Central Avenue SW Downtown Albuquerque, New Mexico www.516arts.org
New Mexico Remix 516 ARTS presents a special collaborative project with graffiti artist Chaz Bojórquez and Hip Hop playwright Idris Goodwin titled New Mexico Remix. Goodwin has created a new play that integrates the stories of New Mexico youth who participated in his summer workshop at the National Hispanic Cultural Center’s Voces writing program. Bojórquez has created a site-specific, temporary mural incorporating text from Goodwin’s play on the 25-foot high front wall of 516 ARTS as part of the exhibition Street Text: Art From the Coasts & The Populist Phenomenon, on view October 2 through December 11, 2010.
The Calligraphy of Chaz Bojórquez “In many ways the entire STREET ARTS project owes its inspiration to the work and enthusiastic energy of Charles “Chaz” Bojórquez, an artist of exceptional skill, dynamism and dedication to education and support for younger artists. In 1969 Chaz’s imagery burst into Los Angeles’ collective consciousness when his signature image “Señor Suerte” first went up on a concrete pier along the I-10 freeway heading east towards Pasadena. Since then it has appeared in Hollywood films and educational documentaries, in mainstream art magazines, on gallery walls in Milan, Osaka and Madrid, and in museums such as the Smithsonian Institution. However, it was only when his icon began to appear in prison tattoos, and in other graffiti artists’ piece books that Chaz felt he had really made a difference, that his work was speaking to his community. Since 1969 he has been sharing his refined aesthetic and dedication to craftsmanship with anyone who cared to ask, and has selflessly served as a mentor to generations of artists. He is the ultimate example of an old school street writer yet he pushes forward with his ever inspired innovation and passion for the work of others. We thank him for all he has done to motivate our thinking about community based art forms and the universal relevance of locally-rooted forms.”
— Andrew Connors Curator of Art, The Albuquerque Museum
“I’ve always been down for collaboration. Chaz was an ideal, if not somewhat intimidating, responder to my call. An OG of the art game, Chaz’s jaw-dropping skills in interpreting letters demanded that I come correct. Since 2005, I’ve been both visitor and resident of New Mexico. My Midwestern family and friends are baffled by my relationship to the Land of Enchantment. What better way to express the joy, inspiration, frustration and love I hold for this very special place and its people than through art? New Mexico Remix is a collection of stories heard and overheard from my students, my nieces, my in-laws and outsiders with narrow misconceptions. In crafting the text, I was informed by the following poems: Shout Outs by Sekou Sundiata, Love Letter to Chi by Kevin Coval, Makeup on Empty Space by Anne Waldman. (Check ‘em out, they’re fantastic!) All three fuse their work with a musicality, a repetition, a rhythm, a repetition of concrete and abstract imagery, specific and universal, a repetition, a twisting of language. An attempt to juxtapose the infinite into limited space. When the smoke cleared and I finally laid eyes on Chaz’s interpretation, I was beyond thrilled. Read New Mexico Remix aloud. Spend time with the image. Then, explore this great state. Listen to the songs of its ancestors and the stories of its children.
— Idris Goodwin
“I was graciously invited to participate at 516 ARTS to interpret the words of the poet Idris Goodwin about New Mexico. I was to paint his words on a large wall, but during the days that it took me to paint, the wall changed me. New Mexico is truly sacred ground and that spirit came to me through the many wonderful people I met writing these words. My wife and I came home with so much more, a truly unique experience. “
— Chaz Bojórquez
New Mexico Remix by Idris Goodwin, October 2010
I. “There are no black people,” is what I was told 21 major casinos, 10 major cities, 1 minor league baseball team road runners, prairie dogs, yucca plants, ristras “But are there any black people?” I am asked millions of acres of national forests The highest percentage of Hispanics in the country But still “Probably aint no brothers out there huh?” cuts through my description of rose deserts, white sands Deep caverns, snow peaks “there is so much…….space out there.” voices, condescending, suggest the absence of hubris to block the skyline, transforms that which is un-interrupted to “empty space” but emptiness is empty and if you look here you will be dwarfed by the twisting, layered colors, the quick shuffling legs howls, glowing formations that poke darkness
The space is not empty it contains a menagerie the world that arrives to fill their plastic bags with figurines turquoise, and nambe and say, “oh my how much for the landscape.” trade dead green portraits for sepia dark feathers trapped in the silver halide crystals Visitors are no more entrapped than those lured by empty fluorescent lights of metropolis these lights are real provided by a source giving life to everything Look, listen, the space lured nomadic families to erect pueblos, explorers to make bold claims of gold cities, before being expelled before slithering back, blasting cannons, Tugging for the rights to the space dubbed “New,” as if it had been just pulled from a bag Look, listen, the space lured Spanish, Mexican, Anasazi, Ute, Zuni, Hopi, United States military, east coast Anglo Saxons, Sephardic Jews, undocumented aliens landing in Roswell, and yes, yes, yes, (believe it or not) black people – over 50,000 of us.
Look, listen, the space contains native, visitor, colonizer, transplant, 360,000 who require food assistance 430, 000 living below poverty line 450,000 uninsured searching for a nice spot under the sun My relatives ask “am I gonna need a passport to come down there?” But the space is North American. At its worst it shares our Inhumanity – at its best it is the zia symbol A blend sometimes at odds, coalesced, unique At its worse it is silent when it needs to scream Mañana when it needs to be yesterday Its past is as rich as the people, as wealthy as their stories This is God country, its ghosts are angels The space is full but there is still room for dreams and always time to admire
II. So Krs One Says: “In the year 2050 hip hop will have its own city” Interviewer says: “Where?” Krs One says: “I would hope it’s in New Mexico” The Hip Hop City Not much home to curl up in
So they write rhymes
So they write rhymes
Aint too many places that they been they write rhymes they write rhymes Thug life angel/oversize T they write rhymes they write rhymes Have no clue who they could be A Rapper maybe like on TV always come from the after school /fresh that wanna stand out/ trying to be the best always come from authentic move authentic sound/ that bounce off ground
always come from two legs/ hands/ wax rhymes off the head She has gray hairs / she only16
And I want to know
(do I really want to know?)
Who gave her those bolts of lightening
It’s in between the rhymes
It’s in between the lines
He smells like green/ his hats all low
And he writes poems
And he writes poems
All about his days in the south valley
With his pen he writes poems
He writes poems Rose in the concrete He say he wanna be
It’s in between the rhymes
It’s in between the lines
Always come from down / up Rock / roll /folk / funk Always come from blood / spit dark / light/ flavor / right
Always come from young Bold/ Doing what they told To not do
Don’t touch that
Don’t say this
Dance this way
Put that spray paint away
This here mine
Used to be yours
You can have this
Nobody cares
how you exists
Rhyming bout they life Gonna save many
It’s in between the rhymes
It’s in between the lines
Drawing out a dreams letting it free “Who I’m gonna be” Sayin “who I’m gonna be” Sayin “who I’m gonna be” Gonna spit it out gonna spit it out All that they see
So listen closely listen closely gotta listen closely listen closely (breath)
I’ma say like this /but you already know spirit been alive since long time ago People putting pictures on walls so we know What went down who stood up Who split the rock Who lift the funk loose in a circle Talk trash tall Sayin this and that Like yes yes yall You already know You already know
You Already know (I said) You Already know What went down who stood up Who split the rock Who lift the funk loose in a circle Talk trash tall Sayin this and that Like yes yes yall You already know You already know You Already know (I said) You Already know Hip Hop city New Mexico
III. Bianca has no idea what she’s doing here existential questions explored in poetry 6 weeks for pre teens Her class mates all 4 know why they’re here some form of punishment parole or distraction parents willing to pay the former class comedian to keep their kids out of the mall 1 spews mile a minute Brain and mouth out of sync editorials I must deflect to keep us on track 2 is too mature, world weary, bored 3 thinks he’s Lil’ Wayne arrogance undermined by shaking pages in his hands
4 is willing, yet hesitant, proud yet deprecating But at least they all know why they’re here Bianca, the 5th, who swallowed a mouse Looks at me like I just fell off the Martian truck “I don’t like to read” “I don’t like to read aloud” “I don’t like reading aloud in front of people” 10 minutes early, she arrives everyday, more existential questions “what are we doing?” “what if I don’t know what I’m doing” “what’re we going to do with what we end up getting done” I respond “draw everyday” “transform memory” “make art with letters” her pre teen mechanism plots sabotage but a story, I know is swelling to surface her first, she tells about the time she melted the microwave and its good.
but its her 2nd, she tells Trembling and small her voice a cloud She weaves us into her home Puts us under a kitchen table hands over our head Where above parents fight fire makes us hear the slam of the bathroom door where dad escapes in a puff of crystal smoke This is hell The shaking head of grandma This is hell The stolen credit cards This is hell Cell phones Car keys The pleas in dad’s Glassy eyes
This is hell and I want to climb out Everyone claps – polite her 4 classmates don’t shower her like she deserves - none of them will forget her bravery. 10 minutes early like always Bianca shares her father’s break down “I read my piece for him and he cried. He’s back in rehab.” smiles, only halfway, “he’s been in and out a few times.” Before the mechanism takes hold I tell her how proud we savor a moment, hopeful of letters their potential their limits
IV. “What’s up?” My homie called from Chicago “What’s goin on?” My nieces flanked me on either side making demands that I hurry up and get off the phone so I could watch what they can do “Look what I can do!” 7 and 3 with huge potential want me to witness the feats count the rotations “Uncle Idris, Are you done yet?” “Watch!” “Look!” “How high!” “How fast!” “How many!” “What’s going on?” My homie wants to know I tell him about the students 12-16 I taught earlier, masters of their own short comings
Bangs cover their eyes Braces squeeze their mouths shut Vulnerability terrifies My homie is also an educator and it’s the same squeeze shut in his Chicago classrooms 7 and 3 my nieces want me to Look and Listen to them 12 and 16 my students want to Vanish and Hide My homie and I want to know “what’s going on?”
V. Sharon is trying to escape the sky I start to laugh but she’s serious She’s got a weariness to her voice –when she tells me the sky is drowning her imagination She’s from Chimayo raised in abstract reverence for elements under the eye of artist parents Now a teen with too much knowledge And “tired of the sky” she repeats like she’s oppressed by its fluffy blueness She’d rather explore the concrete destinations She wants to grab hold of the soaring planes leave behind the vapor odes instead dig her nails into palm scream against man made mountains “Its just so cliché” she says “Writing about me and trees pink and brown Wrapping arms around the bark As wind massages the dirt
The gentle sway of a hammock Nostrils tempted by slow crisp Of the harvest� These images pulled me from Chicago where my keys only clicked injustice And I thought I would come out here plop into the hammock, shut my eyes, suck in the mystical air, blow out the weightless abstraction But In the midst of all this vast perfection and quiet and infinite sky Is the empty refrigerator Full medicine cabinet Is the closed book the warm television Is the diabetes The empty bottle Is the lottery ticket the crushed Aluminum Is the raised fist The shut door And The sky is the witness holds unreported crimes If you look up and only see sky Look harder If quiet is all you hear You aint listening
I didn’t say it then Because I was 17 before And an expert on all that I had grown tired of But Sharon will learn you can’t escape that from which you fell
VI. Here’s to the hybrid tongue with that slow musical rise and fall The arroyo, stone dry – raging Flash flooded, carrying daredevil skate punks for miles The Rio Grande rising The ever expanding Rio Rancho The petroglyphs, plateaus The rollercoaster cliffs New Year’s Taos where I asked Lavender farms where I said “I do.” To family unyielding in their wise cracks To the cars that break and get sold To the old revived in red chile The chicken casserole with green The mean posole The hominy The holiday Luminarias blown over on a windy December The adventures The indentured, labored The entitled nomadic looking for answers While bemoaning what they left behind May you trust the land to provide
Uranium mines in Grants Pulling young men across borders Before sealing the door in their faces land preserved The indigenous legacy Palatable Old man gloom burned annually in effigy uncharted undocumented Deported whose kids born here put more on their shoulders than they should to those grown too early to the early rising rooster the migrated Corrales cranes under ripen cherries overpriced watermelons from blue pickup trucks - 4 deep the pinion tree fire wood cut to heat the real adobe house to the black smoke the black sheep the patch work scholarships, subsidized tuition To Mr. Waits fishing in Isleta Waiting for all his grandkids to move the hell out
To tight knit kin yet to find language To confess, finally To the cultural attaches, meeting visitors At the gate - bringing them home, feeding them laughter Poets in Schools Working Classrooms the Revolutions The institutions drawing worlds to be captured held carefully The string players in 5 different bands The beat loopers breaking copyright law Vinyl addicts B Boy health professionals Growing corn in their backyard Grown up slam poets with 5.2 kids 3 dogs and bad credit Teachers, teachers, teacher From the academy to the correctional facility
To the storytellers – from Las Cruces To Clovis to Farmington to Burque To Abiquiu to Taos to Silver City – to all my storytellers Keep traveling the world of those within your finger’s reach I am ears And ready to let Your words spin Around and around And around and around And around and around And around and around And around and around* *(repeat and lower the voice to whisper to finally silence)
IDRIS GOODWIN Hip Hop Performance Artist Idris Goodwin is an NEA award-winning playwright, break beat poet, essayist, indie rapper and teacher. His work examines the intersection of personal truth and political absurdity. Both his stage-plays and solo performances are enjoyed by diverse audiences across the nation. He has been featured on HBO Def Poetry and The Discovery Channel’s Planet Green. His latest album, Break Beat Poems (SGE Records) and debut collection of prose, These Are The Breaks (Write Bloody Publishing), earned praise from The New York Times and National Public Radio. As an educator, Goodwin promotes cross-cultural literacy at colleges, K-12 schools and community organizations. www.idrisgoodwin.blogspot.com CHAZ BOJORQUEZ Graffiti Artist Born in 1949 in Los Angeles, California, Charles “Chaz” Bojórquez is one of the leading icons of the graffiti art movement. He is considered one of the most eloquent spokespersons on graffiti as an art form and strong expression of societal disruption. He received formal art training at Guadalajara University of Art in Mexico, California State University and Chouinard Art Institute in Los Angeles (Cal Arts). While rooted in historical techniques and aesthetics, Bojórquez was one of the first graffiti writers from Los Angeles to develop his own distinctive typefaces or fonts combined with a distinctive overall composition influenced by traditional and contemporary graphic design. In 1979 Bojórquez embarked on a three-year, round-the-world tour, visiting and living in 35 countries, and studying the various ways that graphic designs and letters describe culture. His unique work incorporates the Los Angeles ‘Cholo’ style graffiti which was constructed from an honored code of writing, his education from Chouinard and the technical skills and contemplative aspects of Asian calligraphy from his studies with Master Yun Chung Chiang. His painting and prints are in public collections across the country including the Smithsonian Institution, the Los Angeles County Museum of Art and the National Hispanic Cultural Center. The graffiti-inspired paintings, prints, skateboards, clothing and other media that Bojórquez creates today continue to inspire his recurring questions: Does graffiti art have intent, purpose, cultural identity, history and unity? Who owns the public space and who has the right to speak and be heard? www.chazbojorquez.com
Thank you! GRANT FUNDERS McCune Charitable Foundation Bernalillo County City of Albuquerque City Council Cultural Services Department The FUNd at Albuquerque Community Foundation New Mexico Arts, a Division of the Office of Cultural Affairs, with the National Endowment for the Arts New Mexico Tourism Department Visit www.newmexico.org MAJOR BUSINESS SPONSORS Bank of Albuquerque Hotel Andaluz Goodman Realty Group New Mexico Bank & Trust New Mexico Business Weekly Sunrise Bank Technology Ventures Corporation Wells Fargo MAJOR CONTRIBUTORS Frieda Arth Dr. Holly Barnet-Sanchez & David Foster Norty & Summers Kalishman New Mexico Orthopaedics Arturo Sandoval in memory of Anna Kavanaugh Sandoval Jim & Sarah Scott Dr. Mark Unverzagt & Laura Fashing David Vogel & Marietta Patricia Leis Dr. Marta Weber Clint Wells
Full image of New Mexico Remix by Carly Hilo Photos of Idris Goodwin & Chaz Bojórquez by Suzanne Sbarge
BOARD OF DIRECTORS Arturo Sandoval, Chair Suzanne Sbarge, President/Founder Kathryn Kaminsky, Vice President Joni Thompson, Treasurer/Secretary Dr. Marta Weber, Fundraising Chair David Vogel ADVISORY BOARD Frieda Arth Sherri Brueggemann Christopher Burmeister Andrew Connors Miguel Gandert Idris Goodwin Norty Kalishman Arif Khan John Lewinger, Past Chair Wendy Lewis Danny Lopez Christopher Mead Elsa Menéndez Melody Mock Henry Rael Mary Anne Redding Augustine Romero Rob Strell Clint Wells STAFF Suzanne Sbarge, Executive Director Rhiannon Mercer, Assistant Director Francesca Searer, Program Coordinator Claude Smith, Gallery Assistant SPECIAL THANKS
ACLU-NM Albuquerque Academy albuquerqueARTS Hotel Blue Historic District Improvement Co. KUNM Radio Don Mickey Designs La Montanita Food Coop The Outpost Performance Space Stubblefield Screenprint Company Tamarind Institute Videographer Maria Friesen Weekly Alibi