La Luz De Jesus 25th years

La Luz De Jesus Art Gallery celebrates it's 25th year anniversary and release of their book featuring some of the most groundbreaking Lowbrow/ popsurealist artists. My friends Ashley, her husband Scott, Tammy and I viewed the second installment of the 25th anniversary show.

Tammy and I

Random shots of the show.

Random shots of the show featuring Steven Daily's "Benevolent"

More Random shots

"Honey Bees" by Karen Hsiao and "Dr. Glaxo" by Chris Mars

"Mean Streets" by Van Soro

Stumped by Ana Bagayan oil on wood

"Lunacy" by Jessica Dalva Mixed media in wooden drawer

"Taste Like Tears" acrylic Caia Koopman

"Beloved" by Marion Peck Oil on panel with Lucite and mixed media

"The inevitable Change" by Bob Dob oil on canvas

"sacred Heart" by Mark Ryden graphite on paper

"Yellow Fever in New Orleans" by John de Fazio glazed ceramics

"Three Wasps" by Matjames Metson Mixed medial assemblage

"Keeping the Nibbles at Bay by Miss Mindy Mixed media

"Collector of the Dead" by Jasmine Worth oil on masonite

"And a Time of Darkness Bestows its Muse by Lyle Motley oil on panel

"Man with the Anal Eyes by Elizabeth Mcgrath animatronics and mixed media

Nicaragua

Nicaragua, land of the mosquitos, skinny dogs and waves. Giant waves! The day our group arrived in Nicaragua the swell was producing 8-10 foot waves. Why was I shocked? Emily, my travel companion is notorious for her surf mojo. Every surf vacation she takes results in giant swell, which would be fine except that I’m only an “advanced-beginner” surfer. Emily is the Wave Whisperer, packing swell in that carry-on backpack of hers.

The surf was only one aspect of the trip, the other part were the ladies. At the Managua airport, Emily and I met up with most of the other six ladies that signed up for the week-long surf camp. Let me stop here and clarify something. These women are spectacular. Believe me when I say I have a realistic if not cynical sounding view about womens’ travel trips. I’ve done many. Usually the estrogen turns noxious half way through the trip. Not this time. Every lady made contributions to this kick-ass trip. Here are the Amigas...Emily. Where she travels is where I want to be. There’s a reason I have invited myself on her trips. I’m just lucky she hasn’t decided to visit Liberia
If anyone could convince me paddling out in eight foot surf was a good idea…it would be Em. Forget that Emily is edgier than an Exacto and is as confident as the sun. When she turns to you engulfed in pounding white wash and says “take it like a man” you just smile and say “ok.”




Emily description above






Jen. If a bottle of Cristal were a person and could laugh, dance, and zoom down a volcano on a metal sled at record breaking speed it would be Jen. Jen is the party. I could dance with a mosquito net wrapped around my body and still have fun if Jen is around.







Suzanne is Yoga. Not because she participated in it more than anyone else, but because she was so “in the moment.” Whether she was surfing down the line, doing a downward dog, or busting out African dance moves during our impromptu dance party…Suzanne embraced whatever she was doing. Suzanne’s gentle nature is such a beautiful contribution to the human race…I am so grateful that creepy-cult-guy that asked you for directions didn’t kill you at his compound.








Joice is down to have fun. Joice not only has a law degree but she has a PhD in environmental policy…SLACKER! She is also skilled in pop culture trivia and can challenge you about any horror movie. Joice is more lovable than a basket of newborn pandas. Everyone loves her. Nothing scares Joice…except maybe Ambien.






Andrea…expect to see her memoir on the shelves. I bet Elizebeth Gilbert hasn’t taken a karate chop to the larynx by her own surfboard. Andrea has. She still managed to eek out a smile and some funny insights. Most people would sulk for the rest of the trip after a bout of laryngitis. Not Andrea. By day three she was hyping up shots of coffee rum at the French restaurant. On day five she was in full force making some funny comments in the military jeep we took up the volcano. Thank goodness that surfboard didn’t knock the sarcasm out of you.








Talei is HILARIOUS. She has traveled diverse destinations, is full of cheeky humor and obscure references (Human Centipede). She might just be the female version of the Dos Equis man. One of the most memorable tidbits she shared was English translation of the Dutch verb zwaffelen', which is the act of rubbing a semi-hard penis on various objects.





Hilary, like Joice is a real scholastic. Anticipate Hilary’s future Fullbright award and probably Peace Prize for her dissertation on eating disorders. Witty, generous and the biggest charger of the bunch. Hilary was the last one to leave the waves. She wasn’t going to miss any opportunity. She came to this camp to enjoy every experience and she did! Yoga, Swing dancing, horsebackriding (two times in one day!) Volcano boarding, videographer. She’s one talented cookie!


The Trip

The week can be described as surf, food and conversation. This travel post might read like Groundhog Day with the various days blending together…but each day was uniquely wonderful.









Day 1
Apon arrival, Coco Loco green landscape was spotted by palm-thatch cabanas. Coco Loco is a legit Eco lodge intact with tepid showers and compost toilets. We were greeted by our surf instructor Holly Beck, who gave us a quick tour of the grounds.

The best aspect of Coco Loco El Coco Loco , besides the resort’s welcoming owners Jaimie and Lindsey is the food. Red Snapper, Lobster, fish quesadilla were just some of our meals. The fish was so delicious I couldn’t refuse, even though I was told the vegetarian options were equally delicious.

Day 2
After zonking out to the soundtrack of mosquitoes, we woke the next day ready to surf. Our group frolicked around the white wash for half the morning until Holly encouraged Emily and I to brave the outside break. Emily made it out in record time while Holly assisted me through my battle past the breaking waves. Once Emily, Holly and I were out there it was totally worth it, although I wasn’t saying that at the time. After going over the falls on one of the eight footers and being pushed deep enough to wonder which way was up I was thinking “now why couldn’t I be riding white wash with my amigos?”

After the surf we gathered together for a yoga session, taught by Nicole who not only is an amazing yoga instructor but also a ripping surfer.


Day 3
The next day we surfed a different break (I forgot the name.) More of the same, battling past big, frothy, white wash and gawking at giant waves. Holly assured us that the waves were mushy even if they they looked like King Kong to me. I was sure to get one of Kong's fists to the head, but I managed to ride one wave in enough to escape an extra pounding. One wave a day felt like a huge accomplishment.

The next day, Emily, Halena, Jaime (Coco Loco Resort owner) and I went to “the Point.” We weren’t alone, there were four Nicaraguan hot shots zipping up and down the faces of these waves.

Sitting before some sets I suddenly realized how inexperienced I was. In a moment of clarity or cowardice depending on your perspective, I hollered to Halena, “Get me the #!## out of here!.” Thank you Halena for guiding me through the channel and getting me back to sweet land. Andrea, Emily and I squeezed in a morning surf session with Holly before the day’s volcano boarding excursion. The universe decided Andrea had enough abuse and turned to me. After finally getting a wave Holly suggested I ride it in. As soon as the smooth wave turned to white wash I was bucked off my board at the worst possible spot…the impact zone. Luckily the waves were much smaller than those first couple days…but my body was exhausted from excessive turtling (I don’t know how to duck dive). I watched a set roll in. Anxiety and exhaustion make a bad combo when you are staring at an oncoming set from the impact zone. Should I turtle or ditch the board completely? Can I paddle out before it breaks? As my thoughts are turning Holly tells me to turn and ride the white wash in. Not listening to a surf instructor when they are telling you what to do is a big mistake. I decided to ditch the board and duck under the wave. Somewhere during the tumble I was struck in the cheek by my board. My first thought was…good thing it wasn’t my eye. The second thought that surfaced was Emily’s mantra “Take it like a man.”

Defeated, cut and exhausted, I decided to listen to Holly and ride the whitewash in. Why didn’t I just do that in the beginning?

That afternoon we drove to the colonial city Leon for volcano boarding. The driver dropped us off at the Bigfoot Hostel.





Once volcano boarding company arrived, we proceeded to pile into a bright orange military truck to ascend Cerro Negro. This was the bumpiest 40 minute ride I’ve ever experienced. Picture Disneyland’s Thunder Mountain without the seat belts.






After the gruesome tale of lightening flashing over the missionaries, I was worried for our brave amigas. Luckily the rain let up as they ascended the top of the mountain. They all made it safely down the slope, as you can see on the video. By the time we got back to town we had just enough time to eat, guzzle some delicious mojitos, and drive back to Coco Loco. /-e9aVBDhkYcM/TitvAKnRVjI/AAAAAAAAAVw/-UnhuDxDwII/s200/IMG_0810.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5632717807596688946" border="0">


Day six the surf and fun had taken its toll on our bodies. Our group was more than ready for the luxurious surroundings of La Bahia, but you had to earn it by crossing an estuary to get there.


Day seven was a sad day of goodbyes. Most of our group booked their departure flights. Emily and I decided to take the day and head to Chinandega. She wanted to view the town and I desperately wanted to get some medication for the ear infection that had been nesting in my ear for three days. While in town there was a parade honoring the Sandistas.


















Day eight…goodbye Nicaragua…good bye remaining amigas…goodbye mosquitos!

The Melvins!!!

When I learned the Melvins set up residency at Spaceland during the month of January I knew I had to go, even if it meant selling my ovaries for a scalped ticket. Luckily there are still some decent individuals who adhere to the gig dogma of selling the extra ticket at face value (thank you Joe of West Hollywood).

The Houdini show went something like this; Dale and Coady’s synchronized drumming sounded like a Minotaur stampede, while Buzz's vocals sounded like the hungry moan of the beast. The Melvins devoured the audience alive.


Words cannot capture the behemoth sound or commanding performance the Melvins gave, but I ran across some photos that summarize the show properly. The photos were taken at the Showtime in Seattle by Jackie Canchola (http://jackiecanchola.com). She has some amazing photos.

I HEART MARK RYDEN

India

Twenty five hours, one detoured flight, and five time zones later Kerri and I arrive in Kerala India. Kerala is a patchwork of coconut groves, spice plantations and murky canals nestled against white sand beaches. The aroma of burning trash, a daily Kerala ritual, is everywhere. The smell is not entirely unpleasant. It smells like a bonfire, only instead of chocolaty smores its roasted trash.




Our driver eagerly whisks us off to Soul and Surf home-stay in a stylish Hindustan Ambassador modeled after the British Morris Oxford III.

















He swerves past several potholes, squeezing in between rickshaws and motorcycles. If the dashboard ornament of the Ganesh isn't indication enough, the game of chicken our driver plays on the road is a clear indication of Hindu’s belief in predetermined death.


Soul and Surf home-stay



Kumari, a local woman who teaches Indian culinary skills to tourists and locals invites us to have dinner at her house. This woman can make one mean Indian meal. Kerri and I booked a three our cooking lesson with her. In her pantry sized kitchen, Kumari instructed us how to make Dahl, Garam masala over potatoes and sweet banana curry.







The next day, Ed took us out to the beach, a five minute drive from Soul and Surf. The waves were small but quick.










After the morning surf we strolled the row of shops along the Northern Cliffs. Kerri and I cannot avoid the high tide during one beach walk.







7AM Tuesday morning we took the four hour train into Cochi. Then we hired a motorized rickshaw to take us to Fort Chocin, a small fishing town most notable for the massive cantilevered nets cast over the shoreline. Fort Cochin is a mix match of cultural influence. Chinese red tile roofs, medieval European storefronts, and colorful Hindu style murals painted over the town.

























We walked Bazzar Street which funnels into a small town called Jew Town consisting mostly of antique curio shops. Goats and dogs dart across the road as the tuk tuks honk and ramble by.







After a tasty organic style lunch at the Solar Café, Kerri and I viewed Mattancherry Palace, built by the Portuguese but renovated by the Dutch in seventeenth century. The palace houses some spectacular aged Hindu murals and intricately carved carriages.

Next we indulged by ordering coffee and chocolate cream pie at Kashi Art Gallery and Café. The gallery consists of a studio in front with black and white mixed media photography and in the back was a trendy café. Kerri pointed out that the bathroom mirror was actually a toilet seat cover.




For the evening we booked two seats for a Kathakali performance. Based on the Hindu epics, the performance dramatizes the ideology of good and evil. The stoic drummer tapped out the beats as the actors who move along the stage dressed in an elaborate second century Hindu costumes. The actors’ faces are painted with brightly colored makeup, accentuating their facial expressions, the key aspect of the performance.
The dance was mesmerizing until forty or so non-English speaking German tourists began conversing over the English narration, making it impossible for us to hear the essential plot line of the dance. One member of the tour group proceeded to drag his camera straps across my face and over Kerri’s head.




After our last meal in Cochin, Kerri and I tracked down the only rickshaw we could find to take us back to the train station in Ernakulum. The driver appeared more interested in eating than obtaining a fare; He began quoting us a fare that was comparable to an air-conditioned cab ride. Once we agreed on a fare we headed out on Mr. Toad's Wild Ride.





All tuk tuks are equipped with lights so they can operate at night. For some reason our driver refused to use his headlight, which became glaringly evident on the pitch black side streets of Fort Cochin. Perhaps it was a retaliatory gesture because we pulled him away from his dinner, or simply because the headlight was inoperable, but our driver laughed when we asked to turn on his lights. He flexed the thumbs-up sign as oncoming traffic swerved around our unlit vehicle.

“I have twenty years of driving experience,” he yelled over the putting engine. I didn’t doubt his years of experience since his rickshaw appeared to at least twenty years old. Every bump was accentuated by the deflated padding in the back seat.
Miraculously we arrived at the train station unscathed. As we jumped from the tuk tuk, our driver turned, grinned and asked "no tip?" Our response was "No lights?"










We wondered why train patrons were clamoring up the steps of the train, then we saw the chaos inside. People lying across the benches, up on the luggage racks and even under the seats. Some people stretched out across the walkway floors. Even though we held valid receipt for a seat, it was obvious we weren’t going to get one. We flashed our train tickets to the ticket checker who simple eyed our paperwork and shrugged, like “good luck finding a seat!”

Kerri and I selected some floor space next to one of the train doors. We snagged a spot on the floor and forced ourselves to stay awake for the four hour ride so that we wouldn’t miss our stop. Who needs seats when you can have urine trekked floor space for the four hour train ride?


















Between holidays and wedding celebrations Indian holidays occur every month of the year. In fact festivals are so frequent here, Ed and Sophie didn't know the name or significance of the festival Kerri and I attended. At the festival we witnessed giant floats featuring painted sculptures of the Hindu deities Shiva, Vinishu and Brahma. Dancers dressed in elaborate makeup and costume twirled around the floats. Elephants adorned in colorful headdresses marched in the procession.

























After the first week of surf and relaxation, Kerri and I were ready to go to Mumbai. Since it was everyone's last night at Soul and Surf Ed and Sofie hosted a proper goodbye dinner.



We'll miss the beaches and everyone we met, but we wont miss the bugs. That gigantic spider was chilling in our room. MUMBAI




Mumbai's skyline looks dirtier than Dan Akroid's St. Nick beard in the movie Trading Places. As the plane descends the smoggy sky, we can barely make out the buildings below. The Lonely Planet India guide book states "pollution is so bad that being in India's biggest cities for a day is the equivalent of smoking twenty cigarettes."

Kerri and I stayed in Mumbai's tourist-friendly district Colaba where Gothic style architecture intercepts the Mumbai's shantytown outskirts. Our neighborhood is a cultural intermingle of museums, restaurants and street vendors.



Our driver Gufran lives in the slums, and offered to take us into his neighborhood. According to the India Lonely Planet travel book "60% of Mumbai's population live in the slums."





Gufran's uncle, friend Allem, and Gufran sit invite Kerri and I to have a look inside Gufran's humble home.



From inside, the slum is a labyrinth of concrete walled corridors roofed by corrugated metal. Gufran informed us that up until two years ago his neighborhood had no electricity. Electrical boxes were installed two years ago in his shantytown.







































After visiting Gufran's neighborhood, Kerri and I viewed the Gandhi Museum.
Comprised of photographs, letters and a replica of Gandhi's living quarters during his residence from 1917 to 1934, the museum also included some amazing shadow box displays.































If you are a lover of art avoid the National Gallery of Modern Art. The 1980's are alive and well. Whitewashed shades of peach and teal are splashed all over the gallery's white walls, offending the laws of taste and design.

However down the street from the National Gallery is the Jehangir Art Gallery. Kerri and I perused the exhibit.






















While on the topic of cutting edge art. Kerri and I went to see a show at the Blue Frog cafe, both a music venue and art gallery. This was one of the most creative displays of art. An Ipod and earphones dangled below each comic strip style painting to provide the viewer with a soundtrack to the art.




















More pictures of India here