Hevine Schmidt on Heather Spergel’s NiNi Spergelini Guitar-ific!

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I have to say that every special book by Heather Spergel is a gift to the world. Especially Nini Spergelini Guitar-ific! This delightful rocking children’s story is created for kids of all ages and is chalked full of wonderful unique illustrations. It’s a limitless adventure showing a talented boy following his dreams through his determined imagination and beyond. Truly a one of a kind book that I know you and your family are sure to treasure for years to come!

Nini Spergelini Guitar-Ific may be purchased here: http://www.amazon.com/NiNi-Spergelini-Guitar-Ific-Heather-Spergel/dp/0983214859

Hevine Schmidt
Author of “Angels Come in All Shapes & Sizes”
Angels Come in All Shapes and Sizes is a gift-size book full of original photography and stories celebrating our connection to animals, before and after their deaths. Hevine Schmidt and her family have raised a whole menagerie of rescued creatures on their Colorado ranch property, including ponies, cockatiels, cats, dogs, and a potbellied pig. Her book is available from New Jersey’s Turn the Page Publishing, here: http://www.amazon.com/Angels-Come-All-Shapes-Sizes/dp/193850125X

The tragicomedy of dislocation: Cristina Deptula on Fe de los Reyes’ musical Amerikana: Made in the Philippines

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By popular demand, the musical revue Amerikana: Made in the Philippines returned to the San Francisco Bay Area. For one April night, the back room of the Fort McKinley Restaurant and Bar cast a gentle spotlight on the Filipino-American immigrant experience.

Amerikana, a nickname for a Filipino immigrant to the United States, is billed as the true-life story of one woman’s journey to find a better life and locate her long-lost sister. Lead character, and director, Fe de los Reyes discovered as a young adult that she had a sister she’d never met, who had been adopted by an American family and raised without much knowledge of her background. So, she sets off for the USA, braving bureaucratic immigration procedures and a complex job search along the way.

The background music was loud for such a small venue. Especially the Fort McKinley, which offers elegant waterfall and rock sculptures and hanging baskets of flowers. Sometimes the music overwhelmed the delicate lyrics, which revolved around subtle mispronunciations and attitudes conveyed through tone of voice.

Yet, we were able to follow the story, even when we could not make out every word. This was mostly due to Fe de los Reyes and the cast’s strength as performers – their energy, variety of facial expressions, and movement across the entire stage. Fe possesses a natural ability to communicate through humor, without trivializing the loneliness, curiosity, hope and frustration of many of the immigrants she portrayed. She and many others accomplished this through mannerisms and song lyrics, such as the wry ‘Money Isn’t Everything…but it Almost Is.’

The musical only briefly touched upon Fe’s journey to find her sister, which left me curious about how that happened. The program does pay tribute to the sister as a key member of the cast, saying the play likely would never have been produced without her. And her story ties in to the overall plot, as her path reflects the journeys of some immigrants, who discover their heritage at a later age. Still, it would have been interesting to see this explored, especially since Fe brings up her search several times in the first act, while applying for her green card.

Much of the story deals with obtaining paperwork and official permission to come to the United States. This seems almost harder for Fe and her castmates than adjusting to the language, or the people, or the culture here, and serves as a statement of that reality.

One scene portrays the broader confusion and dislocation of the immigrant experience, again with the musical’s characteristic exaggerated humor. Ninjas representing problems such as ignorance, discrimination and misinformation attack Fe in her bedroom, conveying the constant waking nightmare of living in fear of poverty and deportation. Although Fe wins out over each of these masked bandits while the audience cheers, these full-grown men survive, and would pose real danger if they actually hit her, so the scene leaves us uneasy. She’s not vanquished her enemies, just lasted another day.

Even though the characters’ hardships persist, the musical leaves us with a hopeful feeling. Near the end, Fe and much of the rest of the cast come and perform a slow piece on traditional Filipino percussion and string instruments. Here she affirms that she will never forget her beloved Philippines. This song is one of the most complex and musically strongest of the entire production.

When juxtaposed with the finale, a rousing remix of the title Amerikana theme, we see that Fe has found a way to live as both an American and a Filipina. Unlike her sister, she has had the opportunity to understand and embrace the positive aspects of both cultures.

My Journey Into Fashion, from Mimi Sylte

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Last month while I was interning at a start up fashion business, I picked up an issue of Fast Business from the coffee table. Jenna Lyons of J Crew was on the cover, and loving J Crew, I flipped through it. She talked about how she was an awkward adolescent and that she rolled into the fashion industry by the pull of wanting to make the things around her beautiful. I was touched by this because as a fashion student myself, and previous awkward girl and still kind of awkward, I want  to make others feel beautiful too. I grew up as a tom boy. The middle girl between two brothers, running around the back alley ways of Seattle, Portland, Queens, and the little town of Coos Bay, OR. Now my back yard is San Francisco, and as much as it is very different from Coos Bay, it’s still an amazing play ground.
With so many social media outlets, it’s easy for a girl to see what’s new and what’s trending. It’s also super over whelming. A couple years ago my friend told me about this new site called Pinterest, her boss’s friend made it, and she told me I needed to sign up and tell everyone. Now every new trend can hit the ground running. The color mint was so fresh and inspiring when I first saw it on Pinterest. Then everyone  had it on their nails, their jeans, their purse, phone case, everything. The moment it was out, I was over it.
Although social media is a great tool, I think it’s very easy to feel over saturated by all the ads and pictures and information that is being thrown at you via your phone and computer. My question is, with the current fast fashion, the trends are moving really quickly. How does a girl keep up?
In high school I was the girl who would hit the library a couple times a week, warmly welcomed by the librarian who always had a new book for me to read. After I graduated, I took a year off and traveled. I went all over the country and even volunteered at an orphanage in Panama. It was a year of soul searching, however cliché that may sound, and afterwards I felt a lot better about who I was and very optimistic about my future. I wrote to many designers and finally settled with an internship in New York City. 
After interning, I really believed that I had left my nerdy, tom boy self behind. I got excited when my Vogue and W came in the mail, I did my hair and makeup every day, I felt very presentable.
I know that many people would love to respond with something like, “I don’t need to look good to feel good.” I know that. I also know that through working in retail for years I’ve seen a simple dress or pair of shoes  really bring out the inner, over-confident diva in a woman. It’s the best feeling to help someone find something that makes them look even more beautiful than they already are. It’s not about fake beauty or over compensating. It’s about accentuating your already beautiful self, and presenting yourself in a way that speaks volumes to who you are and how you feel inside.
 Swinging a Stella McCartney bag over my shoulder versus opening the Panamanian nursery door to a toddler yelling “Tia!” from his crib, it’s kind of the same feeling for me. And when I look at my life objectively, it generally is a sparkly and girly scene.  But occasionally I do find myself picking up a raglan tee at the Gap, or itching to visit the closest public library. Sometimes I even put on that raglan tee because that day I am feeling like the little  girl who won dodge ball in the summer of ‘99.
 
Mimi Sylte is a fashion student and aspiring designer in San Francisco, CA. She may be reached at jacintasylte@gmail.com

Book Periscope: What’s New in Self-Published and Small Press Books, a column by avid reader Elizabeth Hughes

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Book Periscope: What’s New in Self-Published and Small Press Books

A column from avid reader Elizabeth Hughes

 

Note to Self by Alison Nancye
Note to Self by Alison Nancye is a fictional book, but also inspirational. Ms. Nancye had me hooked from the very first paragraph. Her writing is such that it is very hard to put the book down. I think that we all have a little bit of her main character Beth in us. She leaves a job that makes her unhappy and follows her heart to Peru, a country she has never been to, for the adventure of her life. I also loved the “Note to Self” at the end of each chapter. There are inspirational parts throughout the book. I highly recommend this book. This book is definitely my cup of tea.
Available for purchase from New Jersey’s Turn the Page Publishing, http://www.turnthepagepublishing.com/authors/author-alison-nancye
The Photo Traveler by Arthur Gonzalez
The Photo Traveler grabbed me in the first page. I absolutely love this book. It is written very well and the story flows along to capture the interest of the reader. I love the idea of being able to travel through photos! How unique that would be…how interesting it would be. Mr. Gonzalez you have made a fan of me. I would highly recommend this book to anyone young or older. This book is definitely my cup of tea!!
Impossibly Glamorous by Charles Ayres
Impossibly Glamorous is a memoir by Charles Ayres. The book is very humorous and serious. It is about him realizing that he is gay and growing up in Kansas City. How he became interested in the Japanese culture and learned to speak Japanese. He keeps you reading and interested by his excellent writing. I couldn’t put the book down. I am highly recommending this book. It is definitely my cup of tea!
Impossibly Glamorous can be purchased here: http://www.impossiblyglamorous.com
Voluptua by Jason Martin
Voluptua is about university professor of French literature, Ellen Metran. She has a very vivid dream about going through the Amazon rain forest in Peru. She meets up with Hugo Coffey who comes to hear a lecture. He has been to the Amazon rainforest many times and has worked with Shamans in the past. He meets Ellen and learns of her desire to go there. He introduces her to a substance called ayahuasca which is smoked and brings her to a higher consciousness.She experiences being in different planes and places as if she is really there. The ritual can let the spirits in from other worlds also.
Mr. Martin captures the reader’s interest with this unique book about Shamanism. According to Mr. Martin’s bio, he has been involved in shamanism for over 20 years. What an interesting person Mr. Martin must be! This book is a very good read. Voluptua keeps the reader’s interest with the flow of the story, I highly recommend the book Voluptua. It is definitely ‘my cup of tea’!!
Human Heart and Mind by Tri Sumarti Soetarman
Human Heart and Mind by Tri Sumarti Soetarman is a wonderful collection of poems that she has written from her heart. Some poems are very deep and thoughtful, some are humorous, some are sad and some are even educational. My personal favorites are ‘Give Me God’ which I found very inspirational. ‘Baby Haiku’ is sweet and sad at the same time. I feel as though it is a tribute to the ones who pass so young, as my son did so many years ago. ‘Future Fear’ is a very encouraging poem,especially the last verse. ‘Alzheimers’ and ‘Dementia’ are both sad, but the reader learns a lot about these devastating diseases. ‘Caregiver’ is another poem that is very informational and lets the reader take a look at how hard but rewarding caregiving can be. I have met Tri and she is a very sweet and kind lady. I highly recommend her book of poetry. It will make you smile, laugh and maybe even cry. This book is definitely ‘my cup of tea’!
Sugar Zone by Mary Mackey
This collection of poems are very unique, written in both English and Portuguese. The poems flow along and you can ponder on each one. They are deep and thoughtful. I highly recommend Sugar Zone. It is definitely ‘my cup of tea’!
Immersion by Mary Mackey
Immersion by Mary Mackey is different than books I have read previously. The writing style is very unique. The story is very good and captures the interest of the reader. I highly recommend Immersion by Mary Mackey. It is definitely ‘my cup of tea’!
Immersion was one of the first Western eco-feminist novels, and has recently been re-released. You may purchase it here: http://www.amazon.com/Immersion-ebook/dp/B0081TDMF2/
Susan K. Maciak’s ‘What Are People Skills Anyway?’
Susan K. Maciak’s book ‘What Are People Skills Anyway?’, is a great book for learning how to communicate and get along with others much better. I truly believe everyone should not just read this book, but memorize it and incorporate the suggestions into their daily interactions with others. The book also has fantastic suggestions for someone who will be interviewing for employment. She also has great suggestions for becoming a better employee, especially if you want to be promoted, land a job or even just have a better marriage and family life. I think that this book should be read by everyone. Thank you Ms. Maciak for a truly great book!! I highly recommend this book be read by all. It is most definitely ‘my cup of tea’!
This book is available here: http://www.amazon.com/What-Are-People-Skills-Anyway/dp/1469161494 and the author is also an entrepreneur managing Cameo Career, a consulting firm.

Writers Block, a poem by Dave Douglas

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Writers Block

 

I turned the corner

and there it was!

a row of houses

each filled with imagination

 

I scribbled down the street

held by a free-hand –

a life of permanence

unable to erase memories

 

I skipped up the steps

only to discover a locked door –

a repeated occurrence

even at the last attempted point

 

I exclaimed at the threshold

of a lost original thought

to be formed somewhere inside

the living spaces of tomorrow

 

yes – there I was! on Writers Block –

a neighborhood of experiences

marked by errors and flowing ideas

if only I had the courage to knock

 

 

Dave Douglas © 2011

Dave Douglas is an avid cyclist and poet, and he may be reached at carpevelo@gmail.com 

Christopher Bernard on Words and Places: Etel Adnan (California College of the Arts)

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Etel Adnan @ Work

“Why is a Solar Ray Burning My Eye When the Sky Still Lies in Ice?”

Words and Places: Etel Adnan

California College of the Arts Wattis Institute for Contemporary Arts

Through June 29

A review by Christopher Bernard

This retrospective of the artistic and literary career of the Lebanese artist, poet, novelist, essayist and journalist Etel Adnan is a major event, not only for the local art and literary community, but also for members of the Middle Eastern diaspora in the San Francisco Bay Area, and for the many, displaced by conflict and war, who have had to bestride cultures in an attempt to maintain a complex identity in a constantly and often violently changing world. Etel Adnan’s resilient spirit, her vitality and warmth, glow in the work like a tough flame.

San Franciscans are fortunate to have this wide-ranging exhibition of drawings, paintings, poetry, videos and films by, or about, one of the most important living writers of Middle Eastern descent – it is one of history’s minor ironies that Adnan, who was born in Beirut in 1925, then moved to Paris, where she was just young enough to meet the ageing André Gide, lived in the Bay Area for several decades and only now is getting a major exhibit here (she currently lives in Paris again).

The centerpiece of the exhibit, for me, is Adnan’s arguably most dazzling creations: her leporellos, or folding art books: accordion-like “scrolls,” from a couple of feet to several yards long, some made up of ink or ink-and-watercolor drawings on separate panels or smeared and blotted between folds, others painted in large strokes like Japanese foldout landscapes – displaying drawings like abstract ideograms, smudges of explosions or flowers, of a striking energy and delicacy. Other leporellos include scraps of verse, surreally enigmatic aphorisms, and entire poems, including what may be Adnan’s masterpiece, from 1968: “Funeral March for the First Cosmonaut,” on the death of Yuri Gagarin.

Another leporello of note is “Late Afternoon Poem,” also from 1968, in which the poet and artist asks the perennially relevant question, “Why is a newsman caught in a crossfire while reporting something he does not care to know?” and later asks the profounder one: “Why is a solar ray burning my eye when the sky still lies in ice?” Other leporellos include “Five Senses for One Death” and several smaller ones, including “Sausalito” and “View From My Window.”

The exhibition is of interest not only for the light it sheds on Adnan’s exuberant synergy of talents but also because it places her work in a context of work by other important artists whose work addresses similar themes and follows similar approaches: filmmaker Chris Marker, director and visual artist Rabih Mroué, and the artist collective, The Otolith Group.

Marker, the late doyen of experimental cinema, is represented by his film Junkopia, about the outdoor statues along the bayside in Emeryville, which he made on a visit to the Bay Area in the early 1980s. There are rhymes and echoes between his shots of the bricolage spooks and cast-off avatars on the mudflats of the East Bay and the lively explosions of black, like midnight roses, that populate many of Adnan’s ink paintings.

Fellow Lebanese Mouré is represented by a short film of a house in Beirut being blown to pieces, the film shuttling back and forth in time, so that the exploding house seems to move from ruins back to wholeness, then ahead again to ruins, in a jagged, jazzy rhythm, while a voiceover speaks about the tension between remembering and forgetting, or rather the compulsion to remember and the need to forget: “I am not telling in order to remember. On the contrary, I am telling in order to make sure that I have forgottten, or at least to make sure I have forgotten something . . .”

Lining the walls of the gallery are drawings and oil paintings that Adan has made over the decades: the paintings are often simple geometries that evoke landscapes and still-lifes, some with an awkward luminosity reminiscent of an abstract Morandi.

Also included is a slideshow of articles Adnan wrote in the 1970s for the francophone Beirut newspaper Al-Safa, and a table displaying Adnan’s books, including the modern classics of displacement, Sitt Marie Rose and The Arab Apocalypse.

In the back gallery is an installation where a film about the poet by The Otolith Group is screened, titled (quoting from a poem by Adnan) I See Infinite Distance Between Any Point and Another. The French filmmaker Jean-Luc Godard is quoted as saying it is almost impossible to film a person reading – the experience is entirely internal, indecipherable: the only filmable signs are the blinking of the eyes, pursing of the lips, a deepening frown of concentration, a body changing position on the chair, in bed, on the beach; the turning of a page. How does a person reading Jane Austen look different from a person reading James Joyce or Karl Marx? How would you be able to see the difference from outside? Perhaps the only way to film it would be to film how that person acts after the reading is over: the reader of Jane Austen tries to say witty things to her lover; the reader of Karl Marx organizes a revolution. This film tries to answer Godard’s challenge by filming the act of reading aloud by Adnan of one of her poems, “Sea and Fog,” with intense close-ups of the poet, thus emphasizing the bodily presence of this most spiritual of acts.

Several films will screen during the exhibition, including Chris Marker’s Sans Soleil, Soad Hosni’s Three Disappearances of Soad Hosni, and the delightfully frank and engaging Autoportrait, a filmed self-portrait (perhaps the first of its kind) by Simone Fattal, Adnan’s longtime companion and publisher.

Along the back wall, an installation film Adan made, a celebration of the California landscape, screens in a continuous loop.

Last but surely not least, as part of the exhibition, local artist Lynn Marie Kirby has created a short, witty online collaboration with Adnan, called “Back, Back Again to Paris”…It is a kind of love letter to the poet.

Christopher Bernard is a poet, novelist and critic living in San Francisco. His novel A Spy in the Ruins was published by Regent Press . He is also a co-editor of the literary and arts webzine Caveat Lector (www.caveat-lector.org).

Smoke and Mirrors, prose sketch from Darion Wilson

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Smoke and Mirrors

Time is slow here and reality evades me quickly. Surrounded by angels to sinister for God’s grace, they conjugate here. Intentions to get back from where they have fallen, this place is just a stepping stone. I meet them here. Have a seat if it is affordable or stand where you can see the show is about to start. A smoke screen floods the building, dim lights cast a luster upon the stage and my eyes are immediately drawn to it. Cylindrical poles grow from the stage and make their ascension towards the heavens. A voice comes over the microphone, I never see him because he is stationed behind the audience, but he is just as vital to the show as the talent is.

“Ladies and Gentlemen we have a magical show case prepared for you all today” says the voice over the microphone.

I didn’t come here for David Blaine, but there are Doves and Rabbits. It is never quiet here music plays as people chatter over drinks in anticipation of the show. Waitresses dressed in black pants, white button downs, and little black vests with bowties fill the floor all at once in an effort to serve bottles of alcohol to the guests. Some prevail and others fall by the wayside in an effort to make their tips before the main attractions start to attract. I see this place in its entirety.

It is too late for the waitresses now, that the talent has been summoned to the floor. Four at a time they occupy the stage. They approach from the right and one by one they start their summit up stairs that lead them to the Promised Land. Six inch heels tap the floor as they find their place on stage. The voice over the microphone introduces them by their stage names and drops a song for them to become lucrative to. They dance, but it’s not for the audience. They dance for themselves. They dance for M3 Beamers. They dance for Christian Louboutins and designer bags. Mascots in their own sense they dance for Georgia State, Clark Atlanta, and Spellman. Tuition isn’t cheap and this money is tax free, so I never judge them. Dollars are thrown high and they plummet from the air like snow flurries from the sky. They break sweats and necks with their acrobatic antics. Ascending towards the heavens I wonder where they fell from. Were their fathers ever there to guide them and give them their first glimpse at affection? Probably not if they were there to catch them then these girls would probably have too much self-worth for this place. As beautiful as this place is, it fails in comparison to them. They dance to multiples songs, their hair swings and legs suspend. Who taught them that? They could have joined the Dance team for the Atlanta Hawks, but this money is better. As the first group of girls’ time on stage comes to an end, a man in janitorial attire hands them a trash bag for the dollars that they just acquired. Money is hand racked into large piles and stuffed into white standard sized garbage bags. Every spectator in the room happily watches their money leave them behind, never to return.

The next group takes the stage built like they are ready to compete in an Olympic 4 x 400 meter race. With tight calf muscles and manicured toes they own the ground that they walk on. I can’t help but wonder what landed them here. It’s probably the same thing that landed me here. An avid admirer of the craft I’m here because I lack something. The spectators and the dancers are synonymous in that we all lack. They long for dollars like I long for attention. We all have dreams that we are in constant pursuit of, be it dreams of a Ferrari or just real love. I cannot get mad at them and they are not mad at me. When I’m here I know exactly what to expect, nothing more and nothing less. I can’t remove myself from this place they stand up on a pedestal and work hard for my residuals. Light bill, phone bill, stripper bill; I could have paid back a loan, but instead I spend it here. Young and dumb I have an obsession with good times. My eyes never leave the ladies the graceful, flawless, effortless, flexible, and extremely talented ladies. I wonder if they know that they are appreciated. Too many camp town ladies singing their songs solo, their baby’s fathers have probably never been in a family photo. I commend the ones that take the stage for their beautiful daughters and respectable sons. The hour glass dwindles and times up. This group’s show is complete, the money is hand racked and bagged and moseyed off to the place where the goddesses submerge from.

I go to the bar to get a drink and its Hennessy of course. It’s always Hennessey. The voice comes over the microphone and I hear her name. Kitty she’s who I’ve come to see. She is who I always come to see. I go back and take my place. She has already made her way up the stairs. I didn’t even get to watch her walk. She cut her hair and it looks perfect, I wish I was the first to let her know. Her confidence fills a glass and overflows; this is what attracts me to her. Always talking with her body I let my eyes listen. I can empathize with Paris. I would have taken Helen too. How does she manage to stand out? She clouds my vision and she is all that I see. Infatuated with her perfection I wish I could save her from this place, but she belongs here. A fish out of water if I were to ever bring her around my mother this is her natural habitat. Money motivated, she is an avid exhibitionist. Tattoos on her lower arm and upper left thigh, I wonder if she sleeps alone. What could I offer her? Love and affection maybe, but that doesn’t pay the bills. Nothing more than a broke college student showering her with dollars that I can’t afford to lose. I lose, but I love to watch her dance, so I continue to watch her dance. I notice every inch of her. I have trouble distinguishing if this masterpiece is mom-given or doctor-made, but I don’t care art is art. The smart money is on her, she just made what I make in a week in thirty minutes. We are both twenty two, but she is about to purchase a house and I’m about to take out another loan. That is crazy, yet I’m still here tipping her. She won’t stop until I hand it all over. She pretends to care and I know this, but she pretends so well that I fall for it every time. She asks questions and I answer. I wouldn’t dare ask her to regurgitate my answers because I would be ashamed of the response so I go with the flow and she inevitably breaks me with a grin. Who knows which part of heaven she fell from, I don’t. I just wish I wasn’t addicted to her company.

Their innocence gets pummeled in traffic so where along the way. Then the pretty girls that they are, they are transformed into temptresses and they prey on the feeble minded. Addicted to the plethora of dollars that come in every night, they do what has to be done in order to make ends meet. If they want for anything, there are no worries because they can afford it on their own. Who’s to blame for tainting them? Not me, but I must admit I do contribute to their excessive desires. I don’t make the mistake of taking it personally. They use me, but they use everyone. Who am I to judge they satisfy my lust, so in a way I use them as well. Neither of us is any more wrong than the other. I just ask that the Lord has mercy on our souls.

 Piece by Darion Wilson of Georgia Southern University, author may be reached here: wilsondarion11@yahoo.com