Some We-the-(actual)-People taking a stand as We-the-(actual)-People … Imagine if a critical mass of Americans started ballsing up (like these), with some grit, love and integrity – on a whole lot of issues. The whole world would join in. What a wonderful world that would be. GO Team Melting Pot! Harmonize.Imagine that.
The late father of my children and love of my life, reasoned, thought and wrote, in the very precisely bizarre manner of Lewis Carroll. Reading ‘Sylvie and Bruno’ is always surreal because I always wonder how there could possibly be two people in the world who actually think like that. What makes it more interesting is that he was born on the 70th anniversary of Lewis Carroll’s (Charles Lutwidge Dodson’) death. I was born and raised on Main Street, in a small town called Danbury, Connecticut. Danbury is nicknamed, Hat City because it was once the hat capital, boasting 57 hat factories (none, anymore). We found the references intriguing. (By-the-way, the chemicals used to cure the pelts that hats were made from, actually do cause eventual madness.)
Okay, so about this photo…
My son – who actually does where a top hat, came over to visit one morning last winter, with the baby. So when we were talking, my then, 20-month old granddaughter Alice, snatched her father’s hat and plopped it on her head. She quickly discovered that she had more hat than head. Being as opportunistic as she, I grabbed my iPhone and started snapping. I am always digitally altering my artwork and I thought this particular photo of Alice would be fun to play with in that way. What makes it unusual to me is that it actually seems to accurately capture some of the essence of the surreal and whimsical essence of my family.
It’s all a farce. All of it.
The entire mirage-ick-uh
resides outside the gate
of consensus reality.
In other words:
Wake the fuck up, already.
This is a collage I made last year.
[Photo by Landon Martin | instagram.com/lando_martin]
fragile, pretty things
often conceal the nature
So, this morning I was reading, Something Torn and New: An African Renaissance by Nguji wa Thiong’o … It is a refreshingly blunt and concise articulation of the role that imposing one’s language on people one wants to control and hold dominion over, plays in engineering brutalized nations into docile colonized subjects. Something the English started in Ireland and then spread across the globe – that whole, mapping-naming-owning method. And of course, the whole point of even writing about it in a book is to communicate the necessity for Africans of both the continent and the diaspora, to re-member our natural languages in order to come back into our natural minds.
Later, when I took a break to see what the daily word was, I instantly saw the connection to what I had just been reading. It is clear to see that English is used as a tether to keep colonized peoples subjugated, and out of their natural minds. Doing so has given rise to modernity. It’s one method, albeit a devilish one. Quite literally.
The degree to which the subject makes one uncomfortable, is the degree to which one either identifies with the pathological arrogance of the colonizer, or the humiliation of the colonized. I think that, what underlies the discomfort is the inherent understanding that, if through brutality, peoples were brought to their knees and empires built upon their backs, eventually, the weight of that becomes too much to continue to bear and so, those people will begin to stand up. The irony is that the very gospels the colonizer used to bring the subjects to their knees in the first place, are the same gospels that caution that a house built upon shifting sand, will fall.
Nature Herself demands it … So let it be done.
a grandchild scampers
squealing with happy delight
at shuffling grandma