SUGAR AND SPICE BUT NOT SO NICE

Posted 2016-07-10 19:26:13 | Views: 1
Kortez Robinson,visual artist, New Jersey native and with a different vision of what art should be. 
I had the opportunity to sit with him and talk about his parents influence, and Esoteric Urbanism. A concept he uses to describe his art.

GLADYS BARKER GAUER The Jazz Lady

Posted 2016-04-20 11:58:04 | Views: 48
GLADYS BARKER GAUER
   A TRIBUTE TO NEWARK JAZZ CLUBS

Malik Whitaker the artist

Posted 2016-03-12 05:48:24 | Views: 89
MALIK WITHAKER
Malik Withaker is a young and talented Newark resident.
In the inner city art has a different meaning, maybe art is concept only seen in a book or in a local museum. Art is to be shared, art is to be talked about and learned in a non­traditional way. Malik Whitaker is an artist, born and raised in Newark giving him a connection to the community where his art can be viewed. The city Newark, Essex County College and East Orange High School share his work. Whitaker’s art reflects the history of African­Americans, telling a story through his art. The Jazz mural, the hands chained in East Orange H.S. with a great message to boost self respect and the beautiful mural at Lincoln Park, “The Emancipation Mural” a celebration to freedom and achievement. Not only does Malik tell the history of African­Americans, but through his painting, “Invoke Africa,” he reflects the root, the beginning and the remembrance of heritage forgotten. “Invoke Africa,” is painted with watercolors and paper, which is no easy task in achieving such a smooth work without looking like a first grader painted the picture. Whitaker’s newest project “Brick City”, celebrates the diversity in a city consider to be the most dangerous in the country. This young man is creating from the rubble, art and a storyline that envision the history of Newark rich diversity and culture.

NEWARK'S MURALISTS.

Posted 2016-03-02 19:52:45 | Views: 101
STEVE GREEN THE MURALIST.
STEVE GREEN IS AN AMAZING ARTIST. CREATIVE AND DEDICATED TO HIS COMMUNITY. HE IS AN EDUCATOR AND A MINISTER.  HE BEAUTIFIES AND HEALS THE COMMUNITY THROUGH HIS ART.  
THIS YEAR THE INITIATIVE MY BROTHER'S KEEPER IN NEWARK, THE STUDENTS OF RUTGERS UNIVERSITY-NEWARK AND YENDOR PRODUCTION  WILL BE WORKING TOGETHER TO CREATE ANOTHER BEAUTIFUL MURAL IN THE SOUTH WARD IN NEWARK NEW JERSEY.  
I WILL ALSO BE PART OF THE PROJECT THIS YEAR, TOGETHER WITH A CLASS OF ABOUT 40 STUDENTS FROM DIFFERENT MAJORS, BACKGROUNDS AND WALK OF LIFE. 

MOON OVER MANATI

Posted 2016-01-03 20:11:42 | Views: 53
Leisabel Soto Ortiz
Taken with: Galaxy S5 phone camera
At: Manatí, PR
I'm from Levittown, PR
Study at: Interamerican University of Puerto Rico

From Newark to Brooklyn

Posted 2016-01-03 07:29:12 | Views: 49
Finding beauty in strange and different places. 
Last Night I sat and listen to the reading of "Kafka's Last Laugh" by Vagabond Alexander Beaumont, at the Brooklyn Museum.  
Science Fiction at its best. 
To summarize this short pice, just re revisit big corp and the prison system. The manipulation of inmates into believing what is and what is not, according to the standards created by capitalism and its goons.
In order to understand Kafka's Last Laugh, the reader has to relate to science fiction and activism. 
Vagabond defined Activism as been Science Fiction, what one got to do with each other?. you may ask. Activism goal is a to imagine a change in the future.  Science fiction is base in imagination in how the future could be. One can relate to the other through the fact that all is played in the arena of what is to become of the future in the near present.  

RECUERDOS DE MI TIERRA

Posted 2015-12-28 15:17:34 | Views: 57
HUMACAO, NAGUABO,PONCE Y FAJARDO

BORICUA PA QUE TULO SEPAS

Posted 2015-12-28 10:50:50 | Views: 165
 From where I stand “La Cordillera Central” and the Empire State stand side by side. I am the seed with the hope of greatness that struggle to be in when every one saw me out.  
My name is atypical, is not Maria nor Juana, but Catherine. My last name is not Castillo, but Costello, but not so clear as to why is not. My birth place is not Puerto Rico, but New York. But mi lengua is Spanish. My heritage is not one of hamburgers and pizza, but one of rice and beans and cocoro.  
 From where I stand the history of a country influenced my decision to love and hate my birthplace and to long for a place that I fit but don’t fit me. I guess that longing comes from the doubts everyone had about me and where I will go in this long path call life. From the hills of the small town I grew up to the asphalt city that saw my temporary downfall. 
  Yes, the temporary fall that once held me back makes me want more. From where I stand; I was born 16 years ago. A layer of fear came off, some hate slide down my back and a ton of habits became obvious, the drugs and the alcohol that came to a halt, just waiting to have access to my life again. How could I be so fearful, hateful obviously torn away by the habits that consume my everyday life? 
 In order to answer this question I had to sit back and look at the long road ahead of me. I went to A A and N A meetings, one each day for 30 days, maybe 2 or 3. I came early, stay late, shared and made coffee. That was a lot of coffee, that was a lot of meetings, it was a lot of work for someone who never work more than a week on a job. And for those meetings and all the down falls in between, I rose above the stereotype that follow me.  
 It was ups and downs, lefts and rights. Never a dull moment, 9/11 came and Islam became a household name. I exchanged my shorts for a long dress and my hats for a scarf and then I became part of the change. I had no idea how this was going to work out, but it was no stopping me, from growing, achieving, reacting and loving something unknown, something so big it could not be explain with one word. I grew older, a bit wiser and found love again. I learned I can do everything I put my mind into and is no reason to allow any one to make me feel less than and never, never, ever feel that age is a hinderance to step to greatness.
 From where I stand, I stand, I stand on the mountain, under the blue sky and on the concrete jungle that have see me grow. From the music of my jibaro, the salsa and the plena and the sun bathing my skin, and playing dutch rope in Jackson Heights I stand stronger. I am Catherine Costello, Boricua pa’ tu lo sepas.  

My Pride or just my Flag?

Posted 2015-12-28 10:30:04 | Views: 123

IS this my pride or just my flag? 
How can I develop pride for these colors when I don’t know the history behind them?  
How can I be a proud full owner of a title I don’t understand? Who am I then? What kind of diluted sentiments are they? 
How can I believe in the one stared flag that waves over my country?  
A country I call my own, who was never own by those who put a stake to belong? 
Do I know who own the mountains, the sun, the yucas and yautias? No, I don't.
My tainos are gone, they said goodbye to freedom and hello to the mirror image the African came to endure.
Do I know the stories of those who don’t sing or dance any longer? 
No I don't. A new civilization came and changed our names, gave us new gods and once again our music, drums, and voices were silenced. The voices of the ones  stripped from their homes,the ones called savages, the ones taken as slaves, brutalized and raped.  
The ones who were substituted by a darker skin, substituted by that man taken from afar, the ones stripped of their identity, their religion, their home, and their hopes. And then we became one, Tainos and Africans, Africans and Tainos. 
 Al son de los tambores que repican en la distancia se baila la plena y la bomba. 
 It can be heard the tears of a nation making rivers and oceans, mountains and valleys; with the screams in the distance for freedom, justice and equality. 
Freedom from the harsh hands, equality to be like we are meant to be, and what we know we need to become.
 The voice of Luis Pales Matos, Albizu Campos, and Ramon Celso de Barbosa were the men who gave the Island nation a reason and a voice that could be heard in the fight for freedom. Not only with arms but also with the pen, with the intelligence, and gracefulness of a panther who awaits patiently for the right moment to pounce.
Is that Revolution, that revolt, that will become the beat on the drum that fuels the fire for freedom once more.

New Year

Posted 2015-12-28 09:15:55 | Views: 126
A nEw YeaR...

As we are getting closer to a New Year, our dreams and hopes might take a bit longer. It is understandable we don't like to wait, and we want everything to happen in a blink of an eye.  
It is hard to admit we are powerless against life itself, but we like to pretend that is not so. We are the mighty human, full of power and almost godly attributes (in Islam this is call shirk (shirk is believing that something only Allah can do, can be done by someone/something else.) And we discovered that we are not God. That we are not all powerful, and we live and die on time prescribed.  
Even when it comes to our hopes, dreams and everything in between patience is the best practice.
 I am not patient with life and how slow things sometimes happened. I get upset, question myself and then I realize that either I have not been paying attention to my own words or I am just loosing my mind. Then I realize that Allah talah is the only one that can help me, and give me that tranquility I am looking for. 
So next time you think, life is evolving too slow and that you deserve or need something right away, look forth, behind, to the left and right and tell me what do you see? People trying as hard as you to get ahead, work, eat, live, and love. 
Start this New Year like you have some sense, not everything you want is going to be given to you. Maybe you get some needs met, but remember that is other people that have less, much less than you and me.  
As much as I would love to live in a mansion, pretend that I am the boss of my destiny, I know better. What about you?