Interdisciplinary journal of art, music, culture, science & literature.
Category Archives: CRAWFORD
Kahlil Crawford is a poet, essayist and theorist whose work delves into the avant-garde realms of art, music, and design, transcending traditional notions of rhythm to explore the concept of metarhythm.
Drawing inspiration from the rich legacies of classic jazz and be-bop, Crawford’s writing is deeply influenced by the pulsating energy of drum ’n bass and the futuristic soundscapes of Detroit techno, positioning his work at the intersection of existential thought and cultural innovation.
From mid-September to mid-October, Hispanic / Latinx Heritage Month is observed, celebrating the culture and history of Spanish-speakers of either side of the ocean, in Europe and in the Americas.
This month starts off with the observances of the independence from Spain of the Central American Republics – Guatemala, El Salvador, Honduras, Nicaragua and Costa Rica – on 15 September, and Mexico’s Independence from that colonial power on 16 September. Chile celebrates its Independence and Fiestas Patrias on 18 and 19 September.
Also during this month – on 12 October – is the former Columbus Day, observed in Spain, Italy and the Americas. Now this date has different names in recognition of the Indigenous nations that populated the Americas before the 1492 Spanish invasion: Día de la Raza (El Salvador, Uruguay), Día de las Culturas (Day of the Cultures, Costa Rica), Día de la Resistencia Indígena (Day of Indigenous Resistance, Venezuela), Día de los Pueblos Originarios y el Diálogo Intercultural (Indigenous Peoples and Intercultural Dialogue Day, Peru), and Día del Respeto a la Diversidad Cultural (Day of Respect for Cultural Diversity, Argentina).
Synchronized Chaos’ Hispanic / Latinx Heritage Month literary feast also invites the other Latin cousins – French, Italian, Portuguese-Brazilian, Romanian, Catalan – to participate.
So, come join our party! ¡Buen provecho!
In his delightful short story “Mabel’s Library,” Fernando Sorrentino portrays the love of reading and of one’s personal book collection, in both life … and death.
In “Why (Do) White French Institutions Have a Hard Time Admitting The Impact Of Racism/Colonialism In Black Serial Killers’ Psychological Damage?: The Case of Thierry Paulin”, Victoria Kabeya asks a question that is common in this “post-colonial / post-racial” world, that [former] colonial powers proclaim – whether it be France, Spain, Portugal, Britain, the US, or …
Gabriella Garofalo’s “Blue Scenes” is a suite of poems woven with blue and so many colors of lives and their trails / travails. (Read this poem aloud – the rhythm will carry you …). In “Flames in the Wind”, Andrea Soverini captures the spirit of what is life – a perfect allegory for the upcoming Día de los Muertos.
Los Angeles
The duality of what heals us – yet poisons us is presented in Diosa Xochiquetzalcoatl’s poem, “Café de la Olla.” Meanwhile, with his pair of poems, Roberto Rocha invites us to his barrio to witness the contradictions that are the “American Dream,” and the realities versus the stereotypes of what a Chicanx is.
With his essay “When the Stars First Came Out – Carmen & Bidu,” Josmar Lopes recounts the life and fame of two great Brazilian singers: the lovely Bidu Sayão, who is virtually unknown in the United States, and the electric Carmen Miranda, who became a Hollywood star.
In “Ballad of the Checkboard”, Ana M. Fores Tamayo asks who should be stepping back – the white or the brown-skinned, pawns in a chess game dictated by a white judge. “Fishing in the Green” is a surreal landscape of different lives / lifestyles existing parallel. “Matrimony” is a celebration of love. In “The Three Fates” / “Los Tres Destinos,” Fores Tamayo meditates on the passing of time … and life.
Despite her mother’s well-founded misgivings, Linda S. Gunther gets to see her father once again, at least for a short while. This “Rockefeller Center Reunion” is a story that is well-known by many children of divorced families.
Diana Magallón‘s trio of images portray dancelike movements across multiple dimensions – trompe l’oeil (trick of the eye), hieroglyphics, and 3-D syncopations quiver with indigenous flair. Magallón and Jeff Crouch then offer a quartet of images that dispel the smoke of “100 Días de Humo” (100 Days of Smoke).
Does dancing cause one to fall into an everlasting love? Daniel de Culla answers that question for us in his poem “El Bailaré” / “The I’ll Dance.”
* This edition was inspired by the work of Fernando Sorrentino as well as the principle of Pan-Latinidad.
THE PEOPLEWATCHER
He sits in the corner of
the neighborhood coffeeshop.
He's on his 5th cup.
His stained white shirt hangs from sulking limbs -
cuffs folded across ashy forearms.
His timepiece is scuffed beyond repair -
it's missing a link or two and pinching his skin.
His cracked lips are curled in a permanent smirk
and his wiry grey & brown beard has seen better days -
brighter than the pale blue pupils
dug deep behind his eyelids.
He downs his last drop of coffee,
bums a smoke from the neighboring table
and walks out the side door.
----
5314 (lungta)*
lite yellow brick
wrapped around
the intersection
@ Kimbark & 53rd:
3-levels in the trees
levitating above the
charcoal pavement
& black tar lines ⭐
inhaling the goings-on;
a circumference of
snickering crickets,
staccato Orniths,
flapping leaves,
sticky footsteps
rolling strollers,
khaki mail carts,
gurgling motors
& urgent voices.
the soundtrack:
a symphony of
plastic hip-hop,
vinyl soul and
jeeps booming
at the stop sign
puncturing the
steel breeze.
* “lungta” translates to "wind horse"----
* 遺品整理
My first estate sale is a recurring memory -
one of several that seem too random to
permanently occupy my mental real estate:
Is it the quaint Ravenswood setting that refuses to abandon my inner vision?
Or is it the early-mid century architecture that predominates the city's apartment dwellings?;
Perhaps it was the immaculate arrangement of imported artifacts from the deceased's Japanese homeland.
Aesthetically, this estate sale was superior to many of the city museums and most of the galleries that I frequented at the time.
It was an intimate glimpse into a life I never knew - one that my DNA will always betray.
* “Organizing relics” is to organize the relics left by the deceased. Also known as “disposal of relics”.
----
- A PROPHET OF RAGE -
The tidal wave rose
to reveal a rose that arose
from the ocean floor.
Right where the eagle
plucked the serpent
from the falls of fear -
The fall of man
is the fear of ourselves -
Prophetic light at
the Islamic pulpit
revealing a man -
speaking seances against
the tidal wave rising against
black enlightenment
beyond the midnight
of low streetlights
illuminating dice games
and dicey businesses:
Nation of Islam leader (Prophet of Rage) Louis Farrakhan (born Louis Walcott) speaks from behind a lecturn at Tennessee State University, Nashville, Tennessee, 1969. On the lecturn are a pair of books by Elijah Muhammd, ‘How To Eat To Live’ and ‘Message To The Blackman In America.’ (Photo by Robert Abbott Sengstacke/Getty Images)
In the land of Mnísota (Minnesota), the “Twin Cities” consist of the Imnížaska Othúŋwe (Saint Paul or StP) and Bdeóta Othúŋwe (Minneapolis or MPLS). These two areas are noticeably different in layout and structure. Modern MPLS, like most U S. cities, is on a grid with mostly straight and narrow streets. Modern StP, on the other hand, has a plethora of curved streets and avenues.
One day, at an Irish bar in Imnížaska Othúŋwe, I was taught the reasons for this contrast (plus the finer points of Celtic barspeak (i.e. drinking a pint of “Smithwick” (pronounced “Schmi-diks”) should be preceded by the “Slainté” salutation rather than “Cheers”). Another Irish bar taught me the ins and outs of “The Troubles” and Irish nationalism, but I digress…
It was posited that the structural difference between the Twin Cities is due to their respective ethnic histories. Saint Paul was considered “an Irish town” akin to Chicago whereas MPLS was considered “a German Town” akin to Milwaukee. It was insinuated that the Irish tend to have more cyclical thinking akin to their famed Celtic knots and that the design principles of the knots are evident throughout the urban planning of StP. In contrast, Germans are often characterized as being more linear-minded which, in theory, may have contributed to the more geometric layout of MPLS.
As a Black Chicago “native” of Celtic descent, I can relate and speak more to the former. Walking around Imnížaska Othúŋwe felt more like home to me – with its pastoral vibe and statues and architecture that seem to narrate the city’s story. One statue, in particular, portrays a priest standing in a semi-disheveled state – his pants legs are wrinkled and his shoes are worn from his tireless labor:
Archbishop John Ireland, a native of Contae Chill Chainnigh in Éirinn (County County Kilkenny, Ireland) developed much of modern (not contemporary) Saint Paul. In the wake of the 1862 Sioux Uprising, he founded the Irish Catholic Colonization Association which settled over 4,000 Irish Catholic immigrant families on 400,000 acres of farmland in Mnísota. (Photo Credit: Jon Platek)
In Bdeóta Othúŋwe, there is a replica of the “Self Made Man” carving himself into existence from a granite block using a mallet and chisel. Surely, this feat requires concise design and execution – a single mistake could render him deformed and crippled – which speaks to the geometric precision that shaped MPLS.
My highlighting of these contrasts is not a treatise on the peoples’ character – it is an illustration of the historical evolution of their towns. Today, the Twin Cities are so diverse that ethnic generalizations are irrational. Generations of race and cultural mixing, as well as ongoing immigration and migration, have transformed Minneapolis-Saint Paul into one of North America’s unique “melting pots”:
Where else can you find ᐅᒋᑉᐧᐁ (Ojibwe), Oceti Sakowin (Sioux), Latin@s, African-Americans, Southeast Asians, East Africans, Scandinavians, Germans, Irish, etc. living (and mixing) together?
The metropolis is divided by viaducts – a disparate world where aerosol art is eroded by automobile exhaust and industrial rain puddles littered with man-made debris. Much happens beneath these viaducts – from the holy to the ungodly…
Apparitions haunt passersby whose footsteps echo tales of life, death, and all else. Rumbling trains accelerate black eroded raindrops, sending soot-coated pigeons into a frenzy – protecting their dark nests tucked deep in the crevices of this elevated underworld, their crimson eyes cry forbidden songs.
Al frequently passes through the viaduct – his preferred route from the 4th-floor room he inhabits at the Y to the Blue line train that takes him to his seemingly endless stream of appointments. Today he’s going to see his therapist who seems to derive pleasure from changing his meds after nearly every visit. Al’s short on change again, so he checks for cops then hops the turnstile, feeling a rush of triumph over the pricey fare required for the two-mile ride to Six Corners.
The only thing wobblier than the swerving train car is his trembling hand – a janky side effect of the Klonopin. It thins his hair too, so he sports a grey golf cap he got for a quarter at the Brown Elephant. However, copping donated gear is not Al’s main reason for frequenting The Elephant – it’s the cashier…
Xochil has dark, shoulder-length hair that she sometimes stuffs into an engraved clip that reads “Hecho En Męxico”. She doesn’t talk much, but her fluctuating tone fills the verbal gaps. When she speaks of the weather her voice lilts up as the sun showers or down if the rain falls. She always drives her points home with pronounced hand gestures that suggest she enjoys a good dance from time to time. Xochil says that the Brown Elephant makes her feel like she’s serving the Lord in a practical way.
After his appointment, Al takes the Blue line back east then transfers to the Brown line. He’s heading to East Lakeview for his weekly social rehabilitation group at Catholic Charities. He hopes they paint today because he loves taking his easel to the park and practice painting the big Goethe statue on Diversey. There’s something calming about the smooth, earthly texture of the metal and the giant hawk perched on the knee of the protagonist. The base of the sculpture reads, “To Goethe: The Master Mind of the German People”.
Directly across the street is the Elk’s lodge – it’s always been a mystery to Al. Much more ornate than the Goethe site, its Romanesque architecture and well-polished sculptures add to its mystique.
This month’s issue of Synchronized Chaos is anchored in ekphrasis.
I first learned of ekphrastic poetry from one of our contributors, Neil Ellman. According to him, “It sounds more intellectual than it is. It is no more than writing a poem expressing one’s reaction to a work of art.” Ekphrasis, however, is not limited to poetry. Often analogous, ekphrasis prompts a painter to interpret a poem, a photographer to portray a song, and so on. Neil says, “One very common way of explaining it is that ekphrasis involves a “conversation” between two forms of art.” Therefore, it is safe to say that ekphrasis epitomizes the conceptual harmony of “art-on-art”.
Teresa Smith comments on the resurgence of interest in 1990s pop singer Britney Spears and suggests we turn our attention to other neglected people from the period who continue to experience injustice today.
Egyptian diplomat H.E. Moushira Khattab, interviewed by Federico Wardal, emphasizes education as a means of combating human injustice in the midst of national revolutions. She highlights the importance of her involvement in child welfare organizations as an extension of her human rights initiatives.
Mark Young has the innate ability to guide us through not only the art, but potentially the mind of Magritte. Each detail within every artwork seems to speak to our common human experience. In kind, Patricia Doyne poetically dissects the intentions of da Vinci’s Vitruvian Man and ushers us through the dynamic depths of The Great Wave Of Kanegawa.
Michael Lee Johnston likens coronavirus to the crucifixion – the irony of the crown. He then goes on to examine change and movement through the holiness of the Roman god Mercury. Poet Hongri Yuan expands our worldly awareness with bodily translucence and chronological truth. His multisensory lines heighten our self-understanding and existential potential.
