R. I. P. Aubrey the Wonder Chicken
Tuesday, July 18, 2006, 11:10 AM
"The vet said to me, that she was so old and her body is ready to fall and every bird that past their time developed this type of illness in their bones and get very fragile skin....On July 15 2006, my loyal daughter, longtime friend companion took her trip to heaven at 8:15 p.m. quietly in peace." (Yesterday's email from Las Vegas.)

The word is that Aubrey, the gallina in the city, has passed on to greener pastures. God Bless you Aubrey, you were the coolest chicken I ever met. When I have photos of her back from the lab I will post a few here on the blog. Everyone should see that yes, a chicken can indeed have a personality.

Her owner and friend for the past 11 years is mourning her loss, and oddly, I felt a little twinge of regret at not spending more time with her. But then I get to tell stories of how a chicken in Las Vegas allowed me to photograph her all day, even ride in my lap in the car as we drove down the Strip, and had a good time.

Rest in Peace Aubrey, we'll miss you.


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Daddy Yankee and Mr. Spock
Monday, June 12, 2006, 09:44 PM
Just go here and watch this little movie.
I wonder if Daddy Yankee would approve? Hee hee....

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eBXal1GAA4A

You will end up watching this three times in a row....

Artwork. Dope.

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Boricuas in the House
Monday, June 12, 2006, 01:12 PM
Last night I attended a new film created by two Boricuas, Poli Marchal and Ricardo Mendez Matta, and shot entirely on la isla.
"Ladrones y Mentirosos" is an engaging movie about how the drug trade effects three different groups of Puerto Ricans (with a few Cubans, Mexicans, and Venezuelans as well). Their lives are intertwined in intimate ways, and my favorite character was of course named Wanda. Ha!

We had Poli and Ricardo over for dinner after the screening and had a wonderful time. Two of their friends who I'd never met seemed so lovely (and were) that I invited them along as well. What is so nice about spending time with people who do creative work is that it gives you perspective. They wrote a movie, raised a budget, cast the major roles, shot their film, are showing it in film festivals, and are finding a distributor. Despite the usual hassles and challenges. I told Poli as I drove them back to their hotel that there was too much to talk about in the small amount of time we had. There was a question and answer session after the movie and many people asked how exactly they got their work off of the ground. I found myself nodding over and over again in agreement, as I continue to work on American Boricua and just know that it will come together one way or another.

American Boricua, will be on the road again after July 4th, looking for la familia in Salt Lake City, Utah, of all places. Then on to Colorado, Wyoming, and Montana.

A national and international Puerto Rican community is being created, one dinner at a time. Thank you to Poli and Ricardo for adding their work to the mix, and the delicious conversation. Permita que la conversación continúe fluir.

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Sometimes, being Boricua and American is very complicated....
Friday, September 30, 2005, 01:59 PM
Filiberto Ojeda Ríos died in Humaco, Puerto Rico four days ago. A friend of mine in L. A. sent the first news a few hours after an altercation with the FBI. Suddenly Puerto Ricans all over the U. S., of all political persuasions, were emailing each other asking for the latest news from the island.

Mi Familia, the emails usually began.

He died on the day of the anniversary of the movement for Puerto Rican independence from Spain in 1868.

A heaviness has settled into my heart that has made sleep difficult. I shake my head and wonder, again, what it means to be Puerto Rican in the United States.

Why do I mourn for a man who is a stranger?

My earliest memories of the island are the rounds and rounds of security checks at the tiny airport when we’d visit during summers. Men in important looking uniforms who smelled like my Papi, tobacco, aftershave, and hard work dumped my case of dolls on a table. Back then there were only two gates, so entire families would be waiting just outside, their faces pressed up against the windows. Not too many people got to greet us though; the town where my family is from a town that was a two-hour drive away from San Juan. This was before the highways were real highways.

I was 7 years old and wore this pink polyester suit with white piping. People would actually dress up for flights back then, remember Pan Am? You’d get real utensils with your meals, people smoked, and drank, and there was an actual cook making actual food on the plane. Pretty stewardesses would play cards with me; walk me to my connecting flight. They would introduce me to the Pilot, who then gave me my own pair of wings during the tour of the cockpit. These wings always ended up being pinned on my left lapel.

It was 1977. Planes were being hijacked so often back then that it wasn’t uncommon to spend the entire day at the airport before you could either get on a flight.

Macheteros were a vague idea then, people who were an embarrassment for my cousins who came to the States. They were embarrassed to the point of hiding their Boricua identities when they arrived in New York looking for work. We have more Cuban blood they’d say, talking about the violence on the mainland over beer each time there was more news.

I only heard murmurs about the Independistas. It makes sense, being born in New Jersey. Mache-what? It wasn’t until college that I even knew there was an Independence movement at all. This is common among my friends whose families are from somewhere else, who spoke another language at home, who did their best in high school to distance themselves from any ethnic identity. I wasn’t any different.

So my reaction to the news of Filiberto Ojeda Ríos’ death took me by surprise. I’m not supposed to take sides, especially in my work as a photojournalist. I go to the story and tell it, the end. Mr. Rios helped plan a bank robbery and was never caught. He broke the law. Doesn’t that make him a fugitive? He committed crimes against the United States. Wasn’t justice served?

I wonder.

Puerto Ricans are the only Latino group in this country that is born with U. S. citizenship status, island or mainland born. What is means this that we’re Americans, period. Not Puerto Rican-Americans. That’s like saying ATM machine. It is redundant and ignores the rather uncomfortable reality that while the official language on the island remains Spanish, American culture permeates, some say dominates, most of the island. Classes are taught in English. Foreign businesses are not required to pay U. S. taxes to operate there, which means there isn’t a whole lot of capitol being reinvested in communities there. Service industries provide jobs with little or no benefits.

It is a tough place, tougher than the mainland, to get on with the business of life, to raise a family, have meaningful work, be a part of the social supports we take for granted in the U. S.

I think about these things, and the fact that being born here changed my life in ways that I am only now beginning to understand. I think about these things when every once in a blue moon someone asks how long I have been in this country. Since birth I say, breathing slowly, allowing patience to soften my response.

As an American citizen, despite his political beliefs, despite his criminal record, he deserved due process and his day in court. Isn’t this what we all learned in Civics class?

I was shocked that he was denied that right. I was shocked that his wife was not allowed to go near him for 24 hours. I was shocked that he bled to death. I continue to be shocked that the greatest superpower in the world couldn’t find an elderly man living in the mountains of Puerto Rico. (Maybe we have an issue with finding fugitives in mountains?)

His death hurts because the timing and circumstances surround it are disrespectful to what Puerto Ricans hold sacred: the dream of freedom. This ideal is not nation-specific, it is part of the human experience.

To be free. To be free. To be free.



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Faith
Thursday, September 15, 2005, 06:43 PM
So where are we at with this American Boricua thing? This thing that is the first thing I think about when I go to sleep at night, and again when I wake up in the morning?

Well. last month's meeting with "Really amazing Puerto Rican Actor" went very well, it was half shoot and half an extended discussion about what I'm doing and why.

Some of my friends have been bugging me to say who it was that I drove all the way down to L.A. to photograph--I was literally in L.A. for 48 hours before heading for the road again--but I'll wait until its the right time. Life is all about timing right now, at least this is what it feels like.

Right now I am at a "How to blog your portfolio" presentation here in Seattle. This blog needs some sabor, so here I am, : )
(If you ever need to carpool to another city, think about using Craigslist. Gas was suddenly very cheap because I drove 3 people down to California, and 1 back up to the Northwest via Craigslist. AND the woman I picked up at a downtown San Francisco Youth Hostel is now dating a good friend of mine. Go Craigslist, ha ha ha.....)

Oh, back to where the project is....

So I'm right on the edge of manifesting funding, so.....close.....that every day I keep myself calm and just let it go. There's something very freeing about knowing you're not in control over how things come together. I just know that they will and have even put up a screensaver of the hybrid car I'll be driving in the rest of the 37 states I have left to photograph Boricuas in.

(I test drove it yesterday. This Toyota is SWEET, and gets the same gas mileage as the 20-year-old Toyota wagon I drive now. Why new cars aren't all made for good mpg is beyond me. Come on people! Let's get with it! If I could fuel my car with that biodiesel that makes your exaughst smell like popcorn, I probably would. Who likes the smell of your tailpipe?)

Here I come Wyoming!

Yes, there are Puerto Ricans in Wyoming, oh ye of little faith.....

So. The funds are on their way. Things are moving forward. I hit the road soon.




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