A young man who combines his Faith with High Self-Esteem – a winning combination. The first day of the holy Islamic month of Ramadan and Toronto’s World Pride Parade fell on the same day this year, Sunday, June 29th.

. . .

Love is a place
*
love is a place
& through this place of
love
move
(with brightness of peace)
all places
*
yes is a world
& in this world of
yes live
(skillfully curled)
all worlds

– E. E. Cummings

By now you may have heard about how SlutWalk Toronto got started, and how a small group of people in our city kicked off what became a global movement by challenging harmful, victim-blaming language. Three years later, we’re still focused because victim-blaming remains a problem – one that validates the actions of perpetrators of sexual violence and upholds many forms of systemic violence.
The first SlutWalk rally in Toronto in 2011 lit the spark for grassroots action in scores of countries worldwide where organizers have rallied communities for marches against victim-blaming. Some of these marches have been called SlutWalks, others have taken locally-driven names; all have been a part of international, collective action against victim-blaming in support of survivors of sexual violence.
SlutWalk Toronto continues because survivors of sexual violence deserve our support – not our scrutiny.

SlutWalk’s allies include, among others: Blowing the Whistle on Sexual Assault on Campus, Centre for Police Acountability, Good for Her, Toronto Rape Crisis Centre, YWCA Toronto – and loving men!

Join fearless women in our ongoing efforts!

.     .     .

Why use the word Slut in this provocative way?  Click on the link and read the FAQs:

http://www.slutwalktoronto.com/about/faqs

Zócalo Poets featured SlutWalk Toronto in 2012.  Click on the link to read background details + poems!

http://zocalopoets.com/category/poets/karla-baez/

.     .     .     .     .

Joséphine Bacon_Poeta Innu_Canadá

El Festival Internacional de Poesía de Medellín / The 24th International Poetry Festival of Medellín, Colombia, starts today!
.
The inaugural readings include the following poets: Juan Gregorio Regino (México), Horacio Benavides (Colombia), Oumar Farouk Sesay (Sierra Leona), Ivo Svetina (Eslovenia), Metin Cengiz (Turquía), Isztván Turczi (Hungría), Joséphine Bacon (Canadá / Nación Innu), Amin Khan (Argelia), Lou Ying (China), Gcina Mhlophe (Suráfrica), Joy Harjo (Estados Unidos / Nación Muskogee).

.

http://www.festivaldepoesiademedellin.org/es/Festival/24/index.html

A first-ever exhibition for the Art Gallery of Ontario in Toronto opens today: Before and After the Horizon: Anishinaabe Artists of the Great Lakes.
The Anishinaabe Peoples gave us many of the place names we use today in the Canadian province of Ontario:
Algonquin, Attawapiskat, Etobicoke, Gananoque, Kanata, Kapuskasing, Manitoulin, Mississauga, Niagara, Nipigon, Ontario, Oshawa, Ottawa, Penetanguishene, Petawawa, Temagami, Tyendinaga, Wasaga, Wawa, Wikwemikong.

Anishinaabeg have lived in the Great Lakes region for thousands of years – and include the Algonquin, Chippewa, Mississauga, Nipissing, Ojibwe, Odawa, Potawatomi and Saulteaux Peoples. Their social-cultural-geographical landscape comprises what are now the provinces of Québec, Ontario and Manitoba here in Canada, and eight states in the USA which border the five Great Lakes (Superior, Michigan, Huron, Erie and Ontario).

Before and After the Horizon is a joint effort of the A.G.O. and the National Museum of the American Indian in Washington, D.C. Curated by David Penney and Gerald McMaster, the show combines spear points and axe blades from 1000 BCE, with Keesic Douglas’ arched-eyebrow, very “now” Lifestyle photos; turn-of-the-century Ojibwe “floral leggings” of cotton, velvet, glass beads and metal discs, with Nadia Myre’s series of red-and-white “beaded over” pages from the federal government’s Indian Act; practical yet decorative boxes made of birchbark, porcupine quills, spruce root and sweetgrass, with Arthur Shilling’s Expressionist Self-Portrait; a Chippewa saddle blanket and bandolier bag – both exquisitely beaded – with a Wally Dion collage of computer circuit boards.

Carl Ray, Carl Beam, Robert Houle, Frank Big Bear, and Métis painter Christi Belcourt expand the idea of contemporary Anishinaabe art and – of course – there are the still fresh, still bold canvases of Norval Morrisseau (1932-2007), the greatest painter Canada has ever known.  His Psychic Space (1996) thrills with its depiction of humanity in unrestrained colours.  And in the neighbouring 20th-century Canadian gallery, A.G.O.curator Andrew Hunter has had the lightbulb idea – long-overdue – of re-jigging the space so as to give a 1977 Morrisseau masterpiece, the six-panel Man Changing Into Thunderbird, pride of place in a new and improved setting. (Previously, the work had been stuck in a long, underlit corridor with poor sightlines.) The majestic Treaty Robe for Tecumseh – an intervention created by Bonnie Devine– is also a welcome addition to the same gallery.
Curator Hunter says: “This is a powerful exhibition that is very much about this place [for the A.G.O. is situated in the very heart of traditional Anishinaabe territory] and its timeless connection to a distinct worldview, one that continues to resonate with Anishinaabeg.”

Images:

Beadwork by Nadia Myre (2 examples)

Game Over (PacMan) by Wally Dion

Untitled by Christi Belcourt

Victor Ekpuk_Ode to Mother

Victor Ekpuk_Composition number 2

Victor Ekpuk_State of Beings

.     .     .

Victor Ekpuk is a Nigerian-born artist who now lives in Washington, D.C. His art, which began as an exploration of Nsibidi ideographic/logographic scripts/symbols from southeastern Nigeria, has evolved to embrace a wider spectrum of meaning that includes contemporary African and Global discourses.
The artist states: “The subject matter of my work deals with the human condition explained through themes that are both universal and specific: family, gender, politics, culture and identity.”

.     .     .     .     .

Jackie Giles (1935-2010)_Purrungu rock hole showing underground travel coils of the ancestral snake or jila_2008

Oodgeroo Noonuccal
God’s One Mistake
.
“It repenteth me that I have made man.” (Genesis 6:7)
.
I who am ignorant and know so little,
So little of life and less of God,
This I do know
That happiness is intended and could be,
That all wild simple things have life fulfilled
Save man.
Without books or schools, lore or philosophy
In my own heart I know
That hate is wrong,
Injustice evil.
Pain there must be and tears,
Sorrow and death, but not
Intolerance, unkindness, cruelty,
Unless men choose
The mean and base, which Nature never made,
But we alone.
And sometimes I will think that God looks down
With loving smile, saying,
‘Poor child, poor child, maybe I was wrong
In planning for you reason and free will
To fashion your own life in your own way.
For all the rest
I settled and appointed as for children
Their simple days, but you
I gave the Godlike gift to choose,
Who were not wise – for see how you have chosen,
Poor child, alone among them all now,
Unhappy on the earth.’

. . .

Jonathan Hill
Light Years Away
.
My lifetime flickers
In the fading light,
I no longer have
The will to fight.

The battle continues
Till my dying day,
Forever forced to live
The white man’s way.

The songlines and stories
The laws of the land,
Deemed mythical nonsense
By those in command.

Now lost to eternity
Perished and passed,
Making way for modernity
A comical farce.

A culture bound
By desire not need,
Ruled by the wealthy
Infected with greed.

The unifying power
Of the setting sun
Is proof humanity
Is collectively one.

But such realisation
Is light years away,
There’s no profit to be made
Living the peaceful way.

. . .

Rover Thomas (1926-1998)_Rock Country on Texas Downs_1988_bush gum and ochre

Rover Thomas_Sydney Harbour_1991

Rover Thomas_Lightning_1995

. . .

Kevin Gilbert

Kill the legend
.
Kill the legend
Butcher it
With your acute cynicisms
Your paternal superfluities
With your unwise wisdom
Kill the legend
Obliterate it
With your atheism
Your fraternal hypocrisies
With your primal urge of miscegenation
Kill the legend
Devalue it
With your sophistry
Your baseless rhetoric
Your lusting material concepts
Your groundless condescension
Kill it
Vitiate the seed
Crush the root-plant
All this
And more you must needs do
In order
To form a husk of a man
To the level and in your own image
Whiteman.

.

Kevin Gilbert (1933-1993) wrote “Kill the Legend” in 1971, while serving 14 years in jail for murder.

. . .

Gerry Bostock
Black Children
.
Prepare Black Children
For the Land Rights fight,
Our cause is true,
Our aim’s in sight,
Unite my people,
Unite!

Come on, Black Children
Rise on your feet!
Get out of the gutter
And onto the street;
United together,
Hand in hand,
Heads raised, high we stand,
Then, march as one,
Surging forward and onward,
For justice
For freedom
And for Our Land.
.
(1980)

. . .

Kevin Gilbert

Tree
.
I am the tree

the lean hard hungry land

the crow and eagle

sun and moon and sea

I am the sacred clay

which forms the base

the grasses vines and man

I am all things created

I am you and

you are nothing

but through me the tree

you are

and nothing comes to me

except through that one living gateway

to be free

and you are nothing yet

for all creation

earth and God and man

is nothing

until they fuse

and become a total sum of something

together fuse to consciousness of all

and every sacred part aware

alive

in true affinity.

. . .

Mangroves
Zelda Quakawoot
.
Buzzing
Stinging
Mossies roam

Silent
Biters
Sandfly’s home

Greens
Browns
Reds and blue

Smokey
Fire
Keep them from you

Salty
Dampness
Muddy banks

Crab
Empires
Our tummies thank…

Fire smells
Salty
Air

Goodnight
Sweet mangroves
For secrets
Shared.
. . .

Tutama Tjapangati
Aladayi
.
big one mutukayi
kulaputja katiku
bring em up here

big one
Tjukula, show em a you
my country

Mickini, mighty be we take em
Mayayana, my daught
Nolan, my brother
Kayiyu Kayiyu, Nampitjimp

Ohh, too much!
grab em big one you
ebbrything a tucker
kapi too/puttem a-drum

you right that’s ‘im
my country, piyu
kala!
.
Aladayi is a poem about a local schoolbus. It employs a mix of Pintupi/Luritja and English.
[mutukayi – motorcar; kulaputja – schoolbus; kayiyu – will bring;
Tjukula – a place in the eastern Gibson Desert; Nampitjimp –
shortened version of Nampitjinpa, a skin-name; kapi – water;
piyu – all’s well; kala – anyway, what next?]

. . .

J. E. Doyle
Wisdom
.
I sat and spoke to the Elders today
It is not so wrong in what they say

The times have changed as they well know,
But isn’t it time we had a fair go?

So let us all band together and clear the air
The Kooris* know that things are not fair

Their knowledge is known for thousands of years
Through hunting, healing, also tears
They have also survived hatred and fear

So let us all live together before it’s too late
And make this land a wonderful place.
. . .
*Kooris – the name that Indigenous Australians from what are now the states of New South Wales and Victoria traditionally have called themselves.
. . .
Gail Kay
My Sitting Down Place
.
I go down to the creek
Where the water gurgles
Joyfully
As it hurries along
Over the shining sand and pebbles
To its destiny
With the sea.
Dappled sunlight
Flits and moves
Across the water, over the creek bank,
And the birds sing happily
To the accompaniment
Of insects and crickets.
I sit in silence as I soak it all into my soul.
Peace flows
From the water
To my heart.
Whatever life brings me
I now can face
Because of this,
My sitting down place!

. . .

N. B. “Narrbong” means “string bag”.

We are grateful to Jens Korff of Creative Spirits for provision of the above poems, except for God’s One Mistake (via Australian Poetry Library); Kill the legend, Black Children, and Aladayi (Adam Shoemaker of Australian National University, Canberra); and Kevin Gilbert’s daughter, Kerry Reed-Gilbert, provided Tree.

. . . . .

Bill Tjapattjarri (1920-2008)_Rockholes near The Olgas

Pepai Jangala Carroll, born 1950_Walungurru number 294.13

Colleen Wallace Nungari_Body painting design

Walangkura Napanangka_Women’s Dreaming

Emily Kam Kngwarry_Anmatyerr_Kam_yam pencil bark seed

Indigenous Australian peoples (“Aboriginal” peoples) were making rock paintings and rock engravings many thousands of years ago. Later, Dot painting – whether on boulders, in caves, or on sand – involved four main paint colours: yellow (sun), brown (soil), red (desert sand), and white (clouds and sky). Legends and dreams have all been depicted. Aerial-view paintings of the desert, including bird’s- eye “maps” of animal tracks, or “rock holes” (where water may be found in the dryest places) remain standard subject matter, even today.

. . . . .

Cuento anaranjado: tallando una calabaza de Hallowe’en…
.
Desde mi niñez me he sentido atraído por la calabaza de Hallowe’en.
Así pues…puedo ser un artista retratista que blande una navaja – o un puñal – y todo también trata del color naranja, eso de la paleta otoñal de hojas volteando: naranja, amarillo, y rojo. Son mis tres colores favoritos, en hecho, porque soy daltónico; pero puedo ver con exactitud este “trío” vívido.
Hallowe’en es una noche mágica, repleta de ideas y de sentimientos (alboroto, miedo, entusiasmo) de la emoción universal, y que creció concretamente de la festividad celta de Samhain (la palabra noviembre en gaélico irlandés.) También esta fecha del 31 de octubre acontece al borde de la transición en Canadá al tiempo de invierno; lo usual es que llega nuestra primera escarcha-“matanza”. ¡Y el acto de tallar una calabaza existe al centro de lo todo!

. . .

Orange Story: carving a Jack-o’-Lantern…
.
Since childhood I have loved pumpkins – all of them: mini ones, oddly shaped ones, big overgrown ones. And, living in Ontario, we’ve got some of the best, for they’re native to the place, an Amerindian food staple, and a gift to our culture. To carve a pumpkin for Hallowe’en is to express – swiftly and simply – one’s innate artistry and specific personality. What’s not to love, therefore?
.
The origin of Jack-o’-Lantern carving is in Ireland, and the pre-Christian festival of Samhain.  Samhain (which is the Gaelic word for November) hinges on the end of the harvest / Celtic old year, and the beginning of Winter / Celtic new year.  For a few hours all Spirits, including our ancestors, may run free, back and forth between “this” world and the “other”).  In old Eire it was the dependable turnip that was hollowed out, and a candle placed within. Positioned at a cottage threshold, or upon a window ledge, the glowing turnip “face” would announce to roving Spirits – some of which might’ve meant harm – that this was a house protected and not to be tampered with. Sometimes coins were inserted as “lucky eyes”, in case any malevolent invisible-now-visible Beings of Samhain needed to steal something away: better they take two pieces of silver than to carry off a calf or sicken to death the smallest child.
Irish immigrants of the nineteenth century to the U.S.A. adapted the far-superior Native-American Pumpkin to their lucky “face” lantern, and gradually the secular Hallowe’en that we now know evolved. The Church too was involved: All Souls’ Day (November 1st) was, in fact, created specifically to counter-act the powerful “pagan” traditions associated with Samhain. And this was already happening in Europe and the British Isles before the Irish-American immigrant “wave” of a 150 years ago.
At any rate, carving a pumpkin is as much fun today as it was decades ago, when I was a kid!

The etchings of José Guadalupe Posada (1852-1913) demonstrated a worldview that was, and often still is, profoundly Mexican.  A commercial illustrator who also printed political broadsides, Posada invented the ‘calavera’ portrait.  Calavera means skull, and by extension, skeleton.  Aspects of the nation’s Indigenous heritage (skulls and death-goddesses were central to Aztec and Maya cultures) plus its Spanish cultural inheritance (death-oriented monastic orders, the ‘dance of death’ and ‘memento mori’ traditions) combine in Posada’s rustic yet sophisticated prints to give us the flavour of the average Mexican’s stoical yet humorous appreciation of Death.

La Catrina_zinc etching by J.G. Posada

……….

A Sincere Tale for The Day of The Dead :
“ Lady Catrina goes for a stroll / Doña Catrina da un paseo ”
*
“¡ Santa Mictecacihuatl  !
These Mandible Bone-nix (Manolo Blahniks) weren’t meant for
The Long Haul – certainly not worth the silver I shelled out for ’em ! ”
Thus spoke that elegant skeleton known as La Catrina.
And she clunked herself down at the stone curb, kicking off the
jade-encrusted, ocelot-fur-trimmed high-heel shoes.
“ Well, I haven’t been ‘bone-foot’ like this since I was an escuincle. ”
She chuckled to herself as she began rummaging through her Juicy handbag.
Extracting a shard of mirror, she held it up to her face – a calavera
with teardrop earrings grinned back at her.  ¡Hola, Preciosa!
she said to herself with quiet pride.  She adjusted her necklace of
cempasúchil blossoms and smoothed her yellow-white-red-and-black
designer-huipil.
*
Just then a lad and lassie crossed her path…
“ Yoo-hoo, Young Man, Young Woman !
Be dears, would you both, and escort an old dame
across La Plaza de la Existencia !  My feet are simply
worn down to the bone ! ”
*
“ Certainly, madam – but we’re new here…
Where is La Plaza de la Existencia ? ”
*
“ We’re just at the edge of it – El Zócalo ! ”
And La Catrina gestured beyond them where an
immense public square stretched far and wide.
She clasped their hands – the Young Man on her left,
the Young Woman on her right – and the trio set out
across a sea of cobbles…
*
By the time they reached the distant side of the Plaza the
Young Man and Young Woman had shared much with the
calaca vivaz – their hopes, fears, sadness and joy – their Lives.

*
The Woman by now had grown a long, luxurious
silver braid and The Man a thick, salt-and-pepper
beard.  Both knew they’d lived fully – and were satisfied.
But my… – they were tired !
*
In the company of the strange and gregarious Catrina 5 minutes
to cross The Zócalo had taken 50 years…
*
“ Doña Catrina, here we are at your destination – will you be
alright now ? ”
*
“ Never felt better, Kids !  I always enjoy charming company
on a journey ! ”  And she winked at them, even though she had
no eyeballs – just sockets.  “ Join me for a caffè-latte?  Or a café-pulque,
if you’re lactose-intolerant ! ”
*
“Thank you, no,” said the Man and Woman, in unison.
And both laughed heartily, breathed deeply, and sat down
at the curb.
*
When they looked up, Doña Catrina had clattered gaily out of sight.
And before their eyes the vast Zócalo became peopled with
scenes from their Lives.

The Man and Woman smiled, then sighed contentedly. And, side by side, they leaned closer together – and died.

* finis *
Alexander Best – November 2nd, 2011

……….

Glossary:
Mictecacihuatl  –  Aztec goddess of the AfterLife, and Keeper of The Bones
La Catrina  –  from La Calavera Catrina (The Elegant Lady-Skull),
a famous zinc etching by Mexican political cartoonist and print-maker
Jose Guadalupe Posada (1852-1913).  Posada’s “calavera” prints depict
society from top to bottom – even the upper-class woman of wealth -
La Catrina – must embrace Death, just like everyone else…
She has since become a “character”,
invented and re-invented, for The Day of The Dead (Nov.2nd).
escuincle  –  little kid or street urchin
calavera  –  skull
¡Hola, Preciosa!  –  Hello, Gorgeous!
cempasúchil  –  marigold  (the Day of The Dead flower)
huipil –  blouse or dress,  Mayan-style
El Zócalo  –  the main public square (plaza mayor) in Mexico City,
largest in The Americas
calaca vivaz  –  lively skeleton
pulque  –  a Mexican drink make from fermented
agave or maguey – looks somewhat like milk

……….

¡Chaucito, chavos! Ciao, kiddies!

……….

……….

……….

……….

……….

……….

……….

……….

……….

December 1531: Juan Diego Cuauhtlatoatzin’s encounter with Santa Maria Totlaconantzin (Our Lady of Guadalupe):

…..Auh in acico in inahuac tepetzintli in itocayocan Tepeyacac,

ye tlatlalchipahua…..

*

Concac in icpac tepetzintli cuicoa, yuhquin nepapan tlazototome cuica;

cacahuani in intozqui, iuhquin quinananquilia tepetl, huel cenca teyolquima,

tehuellamachti in incuic; quicenpanahuia in coyoltotl in tzinitzcan ihuan in

occequin tlazototome ic cuica…..

*

“Canin ye nica? Canin ye ninotta? Cuix ye oncan in quitotehuaque huehuetque

tachtohuan tococolhuan, in xochitlalpan in tonacatlalpan,

cuix ye oncan ilhuicatlalpan?”…..

*

In oyuhceuhtiquiz in cuicatl, inomocactimoman in yeequicaqui

hualnotzalo inicpac tepetzintli, quilhuia: “Juantzin, Juan Diegotzin”…..

*

Auh in ye acitiuh in icpac tepetzintli, in ye oquimottili ce Cihuapilli

oncanmoquetzinoticac, quihualmonochili inic onyaz in inahuactzinco…..

*

Auh in tetl, in texcalli in ic itech moquetza, inic quimina…..

*

Auh in mizquitl, in nopalli ihuan occequin nepapan xiuhtotontin

oncan mochichihuani yuhquin quetzaliztli. Yuhqui in teoxihuitl in

iatlapalio neci. Auh in icuauhyo, in ihuitzyo, in iahuayo yuhqui in

cozticteocuitlatl in pepetlaca…..

*

Quimolhuili:  “Tlaxiccaqui noxocoyotl Juantzin, campa in timohuica?”

*

Auh in yehuatl quimonanquilili: “Notecuiyoé, Cihuapillé, Nochpochtziné!

Ca ompa nonaciz mochantzinco México-Tlatilolco,

nocontepotztoca in Teyotl…..”

…..And as he drew near the little hill called Tepeyac

it was beginning to dawn…..

*

He heard singing on the little hill, like the song of many precious birds;

when their voices would stop, it was as if the hill were answering them;

extremely soft and delightful; their songs exceeded the songs of the

coyoltotl and the tzinitzcan and other precious birds…..

*

“Where am I? Where do I find myself? Is it possible that I am in the

place our ancient ancestors, our grandparents, told about, in the

land of the flowers, in the land of corn, of our flesh, of our sustenance,

possibly in the land of heaven?”…..

*

And then when the singing suddenly stopped, when it could no longer

be heard, he heard someone calling him, from the top of the hill, someone

was saying to him: “Juan, Dearest Juan Diego”…..

*

And when he reached the top of the hill, a Maiden who was standing there,

who spoke to him, who called to him to come close to her…..

*

And the stone, the crag on which she stood, seemed to be giving out rays…..

*

And the mesquites and nopales and the other little plants that are up there

seemed like emeralds. Their leaves, like turquoise. And their trunks, their

thorns, their prickles, were shining like gold…..

*

She said to him, “Listen, my dearest-and-youngest son, Juan,

Where are you going?”

*

And he answered her: “My Lady, my Queen, my Beloved Maiden!

I am going as far as your little house in Mexico-Tlatilolco,

to follow the things of God…..”

*   *   *   *   *

On December 9th, 1531, Juan Diego Cuauhtlatoatzin (1474-1548)

encountered a radiant native-Mexican woman at Tepeyac Hill

(site of a former temple to the Aztec Earth-Mother goddess Tonantzin).

He knew her to be Santa María Totlaconantzin – Mary, Our

Precious Mother – and she spoke to him in his own language – Náhuatl.

*

Tepeyac is now the location of the largest shrine in Latin America -

La Basílica de Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe / The Basilica of

Our Lady of Guadalupe – the name by which Juan Diego’s

Virgin Mary is known in México today…

Popularly, she is also called The Mother of All México.

And December 12th is Our Lady of Guadalupe’s “santo” or feast/saint’s day.

*

The above text – in the original Náhuatl (language of the Aztecs)

plus English translation by D. K. Jordan – is taken from

Nican mopohua (“Here is recounted…”)

by Antonio Valeriano (1556),  and is the first chapter in the

written telling of the miraculous life of Juan Diego Cuauhtlatoatzin.

Valeriano was a native-Mexican scholar in three languages

- his birth-language, Náhuatl, plus Spanish and Latin.

Nican mopohua forms part of a larger volume,

Huei tlamahuiçoltica (“The Great Happening”),

published by Luis Laso de la Vega in 1649.   The book is a

crucial Náhuatl text from the 16th and 17th centuries

- a period of immense trauma during which a new race

- el Mestizo – and a new nationality – Mexican – were being forged.

George du Maurier (1834-1896)
Rincomania (1875)
.
Friends of the fleeting skate, behold in this
A Rincomaniac’s dream of earthly bliss,
Sketched by the frantic pen of one who thinks
That Heaven is paved with everlasting rinks
Where Cherubs sweep forever and a day,
Smooth tepid ice that never melts away,
While graceful, gay, good-natured Lovers blend,
To Endless tune, in circles without End.

George du Maurier (1834-1896)
Manía de patinaje (1875)
.
Amigos del patín fugaz,
contemplen el sueño de extásis terrenal
del “maniático de la pista de hielo”,
bosquejado por la pluma frenética de un hombre que cree
que el Cielo está pavimentado con pistas perpetuas
donde vuelan querubines por siempre jamás,
hielo liso y tibio pero nunca se derretirá,
mientras Amantes graciosos, vistosos y simpáticos combinan
a la Tonada infinita, en círculos sin Fin.

.     .     .

Inuk artist and poet Alootook Ipellie (Iqaluit, Baffin Island, 1951-2007) might’ve thrilled to the vocal sounds – both traditional and progressive/highly original –  of contemporary singer Tanya Tagaq (born 1975).  The following poem, which Ipellie wrote in 1974, could’ve been referring to the future Tagaq – just substitute “singer” for “dancer”!

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Alootook Ipellie

One of those Wonderful Nights

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It was one of those wonderful nights
When we gathered at the dance house.
I recall the familiar sights
When everyone laughed and danced
And had a tremendous time.
The great drums were booming,
Hands were clapping,
And happy faces were rocking back
And forth with the rhythmic dancing
Of the woman who had four legs.
Happy were those days when this
Woman danced all night long without
Resting for a moment.
She gave us so much joy,
So much feeling for life,
That the hazards of the land were
Forgotten —
On one of those wonderful nights
When we gathered at the dance house.

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http://thewalrus.ca/howl/

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http://exclaim.ca/Music/article/exclaims_2014_in_lists-four_reasons_why_tanya_tagaqs_breakthrough_happened_in_2014

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http://zocalopoets.com/2014/03/08/las-desaparecidas-canadienses-el-dia-internacional-de-la-mujer-2014-international-womens-day-2014/

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Stranger Cole in Toronto…

Visit Reggae Toronto at

http://reggaetoronto.com/

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Marvin Gaye (1939-1984)

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Don Cheadle (born 1964)

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James Todd Smith (L. L. Cool J., born 1968)

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John Amaechi (born 1970)

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Shemar Moore (born 1970)

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Anna Mae Bullock (Tina Turner, born 1939)

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Alfre Woodard (born 1952)

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Helen Folasade Adu (Sade, born 1959)

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Vanessa Williams (born 1963)

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Dana Elaine Owens (Queen Latifah, born 1970)

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On this day, the 50th anniversary of Canada’s Flag, we reflect on the contributions of Black people to Canadian society through elected or appointed office…
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There is a journey of commitment and hard work for all those who choose public life, and Black Canadians have persevered – and excelled. From William Peyton Hubbard we reach Michael Thompson; from Zanana Akande we come to Margarett Best; from Keith Forde there is an unwavering line that leads to Devon Clunis.
Here are some Black “Firsts” in Canada:
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Saint-Firmin Monestime (1909-1977): Haitian-born doctor and first Black mayor of a Canadian municipality (Mattawa, Ontario, 1964-1977)
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Lincoln MacCauley Alexander (1922-2012): Toronto-born lawyer and elected first Black member of Canada’s federal parliament (1968-1980)
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Leonard Austin Braithwaite (1923-2012): Born in Toronto of West-Indian parents, he was elected the first Black member of a Canadian provincial legislature (Ontario, 1963-1975).
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Rosemary Brown (1930-2003): Jamaican-born Brown was the first Black woman elected to a Canadian provincial legislature (British Columbia, 1972-1986), and also the first Black woman (and only the second woman) to run for leadership of a Canadian federal political party (the NDP, in 1975).
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Jean Augustine (born 1937, Grenada): In 1993 she was elected the first Black woman member of Canada’s federal parliament (1993-2006), and also the first to serve as a federal cabinet minister (2003).
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Michaëlle Jean: Born in 1957, the Haitian-Montrealer was the first Black Governor-General of Canada (2005-2010).

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Congo pepper – sliced, on ice!

Minus 24 degrees celsius this morning, here in Toronto…
February is, typically, our coldest month of the year, but today is exceptionally cold; a blue-blue sky and bright, though heat-less, sun, reflected on heaps of snow – do make this Sunday feel cheerful and upbeat. Yet we cannot help but long for warmer climes just now: Brazil, and Trinidad & Tobago, where Carnaval is already in full-Samba-swing, or where “ playing Mas’ ” to the latest Soca songs on Jouvert Morning (February 16th this year) is nearly upon us!
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Click on the following links for Zocalo Poets’ Carnaval / Carnival features with poems and pictures!
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http://zocalopoets.com/2013/02/08/orfeu-negro-and-the-origins-of-samba-wilson-batistas-kerchief-around-my-neck-and-noel-rosas-idle-youth/

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http://zocalopoets.com/2012/02/20/2134/

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http://zocalopoets.com/2012/02/18/jorge-ben-jor-em-fevereiro-tem-carnaval-in-february-theres-carnaval/

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http://zocalopoets.com/2014/02/28/kaiso-calypso-soca-pepper-it-tt-style/

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http://zocalopoets.com/2013/08/31/classic-kaiso-bass-man-by-the-mighty-shadow/

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Silhouette pen and ink by Bruce Patrick Jones_The Calypsonian Master wears many hats: Party inciter, social commentator, dueling wordsmith!

Picong or Ex-tempo, is light comical banter with music, usually performed at someone else’s expense. As part of the Trinidadian Calypso tradition, it’s a way in which West Indians (particularly those in the Eastern Caribbean) tease, heckle and mock each other – usually in a friendly manner. The line between humour and insult, though, may be a slender one, and often shifts; at times the convivial spirit may degenerate into more heated debate. So the ability to engage in picong without crossing over into rude insult is highly valued in the culture of calypso music.

The verbal duels between the The Mighty Sparrow and his friendly nemesis, Lord Melody, are the stuff of calypso legend, and the following 1957 ex-tempo session – a witty, improvised exchange of humorous insults – is a great example of the art of picong.

As they used to say in the old days: Santimanitay (Sans humanité)!  Without mercy!
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The Mighty Sparrow vs. Lord Melody (from the Emory Cook album “Calypso Kings and Pink Gin”, 1957):

http://youtu.be/7SdQuzKOFvw

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Currently, an “Extempo King” (and sometimes a female “Monarch”) is crowned each year as part of the carnival in Trinidad.  Recent crowned verbal acrobats have included King Black Sage, Lady Africa, Brian London, Abebele and Lingo, who is 2015 Carnival’s ex-tempo king.

Lynette Yiadom–Boakye_Knave_oil on canvas_2011

“Painting for me is the subject. The figures exist only through paint, through colour, line, tone and mark-making…..They don’t share our concerns or anxieties. They are somewhere else altogether.”

Lynette Yiadom-Boakye was born in London, England, in 1977; her parents had immigrated from Ghana. Her paintings, which appear to be single or group portraits, are, in fact, made up of fictitious characters: composites from her imagination, people who don’t really exist.
Yiadom-Boakye studied at Central Saint Martin’s School of Art (1996-97), Falmouth College of Art (1997-2000), and the Royal Academy Schools (2000-2003). She has exhibited widely – in London, New York City/Harlem, Lyons and Frankfurt.

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Lynette Yiadom-Boakye_L’Ortolan_2011

Lynette Yiadom-Boakye_Further Pressure from Cannibals_oil on canvas_2010

Lynette Yiadom-Boakye at the Venice Biennale in 2013_photograph by David Levene