Tuesday, November 18, 2014
Monday, November 10, 2014
Between Thorns and Thistles
At night I go to bed exhausted with a swirl of images in my mind.
Painting on the streets of Bil'in, Palestine is hard work and I have
trouble sleeping.
The morning call to prayers comes right when I am beginning
to unwind. Nonetheless,
every morning I arise in the early dawn with a clear vision
about what to paint next.
At home before I travel, I begin to think about thistles.
They are a classic plant,
appearing in the bible, and in many world geographies. The
thistle is a plant ripe for metaphor and symbolic use, virulent and fire-resistant; it has lovely thorns and needs little water. It persists.
Milk thistle is also known as Holy Thistle, a flowering herb
related to the daisy, it commonly grows in Europe, North Africa, and the Middle
East. It has bright pink, purple, and occasionally white flowers. It's popular
in flower arrangements. The seeds can be harvested to make tea with many
beneficial qualities.
Repeated exposure to toxins such as tear gas, fumes from
burning plastic or trash, fear, occupation by military forces and physical
beating can leave your liver damaged and working less effectively than it would
otherwise. Milk Thistle tea benefits the liver, helping in purification and
detoxification. This is seen as beneficial to people who are experiencing a
loss of human rights and other disorders.
In these kinds of conditions anger, fear and violence can
accumulate and its best to flush waste buildup from the system and the prickly
thistle can serve as an ally.
There are many kinds of thistle that are beneficial and Holy
Thistle, (Silybum marianum) is often confused with Blessed Thistle (Cnicus
benedictus). This latter variety treats bubonic plague and was even used as a
tonic by monks. It may be able to prevent heart disease, and so also ease the
symptoms caused by the loss of loved ones, incarcerated family members, as well
as the heartbreak of a hopeless future.
After demonstrations and exposure to tear gas and other
crowd control substances, gauze can be soaked in Blessed Thistle and applied to
the skin to treat skin inflammations, boils, wounds, and ulcers. Thistles seem
to withstand the toughest conditions and overcome the harshest challenges, and
it seems appropriate that Blessed Thistle, often labeled an invasive and
noxious weed has anti bacterial properties and is used to promote milk flow in
new mothers.
(Blessed thistle is also used as a flavoring in alcoholic
beverages as well, but it is not listed on the small batches of beer brought
to Bil'in by International smugglers during our residency.)
In the rugged
hills and lands surrounding Bil'in, a number of other thorny plants grow. The
flower heads of the stout prickly thistle known as 'Akkub or Kankar are reputed
a delicacy worth all the trouble of gathering and preparation, the freeing from
the sharper spines, and the blackened hands gained in the process. The plant, Gundelia
tournefortii, tastes like a cross between asparagus and artichoke. Even
though it is sold in Jerusalem markets, especially the young plant's thick stem
and undeveloped flower buds, Israelis do not eat it, but Palestinians do.
In perfect Bedouin style the plant is considered a
tumbleweed. It's use is mentioned in the Babylonian Talmud and the Bible. The
plant was called Silybum by Pedanius Dioscorides born in 40 AD. The Turkish born physician, pharmacologist and botanist
of antiquity, authored De Materia Medica, the precursor to all modern pharmacopeias regarding herbal medicine
and related medicinal substances. It was widely read for more than 1,500 years.
The work is the best source for information about the medicines used by the
Greeks, Romans, and other cultures of antiquity. De Materia Medica was
reproduced in manuscript form through the centuries, and often supplemented with commentary and minor additions
from Arabic sources. A number of densely illustrated Arabic copies survive from
the 12th and 13th centuries. In the medieval period, De Materia
Medica was circulated in Latin, Greek, and
Arabic. Its interesting to note that the work was not "rediscovered"
in the Renaissance, because the book never left circulation.
There is more to the hills and terraced land than meets the
eye. There is so much more
to Palestinian culture and history than the myth of
impoverished and ramshackle Arab villages that is used to justify the
colonization and occupation of this land.
The tale of the 'Akkub (Hathi haddoutet el 'Akkub):
Collected by the Center of Folktales and Folklore in
Haifa, Israel:
There was once a merchant who was traveling through the
wilderness with a stranger, and he murdered the stranger for the sake of his
riches. As the wounded man fell he grasped at an 'Akkub plant that grew by his
hand and cried out with his last breath, "This 'Akkub is my witness that
you have murdered me."
But the merchant thought nothing of that and went away with
the stranger's possessions.
Years passed and he traveled again through the wilderness
and passed that place this time with his friend and partner. The 'Akkub was
dead and dry and was whirling about, dancing in the wind. The merchant smiled
as he saw it and his friend said, "Why do you smile?"
At first he would not say why, but the friend compelled him.
Then he said "I smile, because here I once slew a stranger, and before he
died he cried, 'This 'Akkub is my witness that you killed me,' and now the
'Akkub is dead and dances in the wind."
More years passed and one day the merchant quarreled with
his friend and struck him. The friend in anger cried out, "Will you slay
me as you slew the stranger?" so loud that the neighbors heard. An inquiry
was made and at last the merchant was brought to justice. The 'Akkub was indeed
the witness.
This story is used proverbially to this day. Villagers will
say "The 'Akkub is the witness"
I bring a small sketch of thistles with me to Bil'in,
scratched in the margin is the word, persist. One morning I look through the
visual materials I have brought with me, along with the notes and sketches
accumulated in our workshops with people from the village and it becomes clear
that the symbolic thistle encapsulates many of the collective feelings and
stories. As the rising sun warms the white walls along the main road we begin
painting monumental thistles. We have a vibrant mix of collaborators with us
that morning, including, young men, women and children. I am wearing my
painting clothes, but the women are impeccably dressed with long skirts and
head coverings. Each manages to work without dripping paint on their clothes.
As the images appear on the walls, cars slow down and there is a constant honking
of horns. Amidst the dust and noise we continue until each thorn is finished.
Later a local tells me the thistle is used in the Jordan River Valley as a
symbol of resistance to the occupation. He shows me a leaflet with an image of
a thistle similar to the ones we have painted, the slogan says, 'To exist is to
resist.' Yet many are not familiar with its symbolic use and when an older man
on a white donkey ambles by, he engages me in conversation. "What is
meaning? He asks in broken but understandable English. I point at the plant and
pantomime kicking it and digging it up and make gestures that show it comes
back, blooms again. He nods his head, yes, yes.
"Even fire, always life. Thank you"
In the Old
City of Jerusalem, after I leave Bil'in, I visit the chapel built at the site
where Jesus is reputed to have been whipped, the Church of the Flagellation.
The church has a beautiful gold dome designed in mosaic as a crown of thorns.
As a boy, I was always most struck by this aspect of the stories told about the
man that was Jesus. He was able to take a whipping, wear a crown of thorns and
carry a heavy cross all because of his love for us regular humans. I found it
both mysterious and perplexing. As a kid I figured it meant I should let our
housekeeper whip me but not tell my mother because it would worry her. Later it
came to represent the deprivations and austerities that come with trying to
make the world a little better. In Chile and throughout Latin America much of
the work done for social justice is connected to understanding both the
suffering of Christ as well as his desire to be with those in need, the poor
and forgotten. This understanding transcends political and religious
affiliations; the constituency of the continent remains deeply Catholic even if
we work in a secular manner.
I do not consider the work we do in Bil'in as entirely
unselfish. The artistic satisfaction and the human payoffs are huge personal
rewards. Our work in Bil'in takes all my mental and creative abilities as well
all my physical strength and stamina, yet each day I find a
reservoir of energy and ideas. The crown of thorns worn by Jesus and his
suffering also came with rewards I suppose,
it's pretty cool to die and come
back to life a few days later.
I take a seat in the front pew, and think about
13-year-old, Bahaa Samir Badir. He is the young boy who is shot in the chest
and killed in the village of Beit Laqiya, just 24 hours after a similar IDF (Israeli Defense Force/ Army) raid we experienced in neighboring Bil'in during
the small hours of the morning. Bahaa Samir was 13, the age of my youngest son
Salvador. He will not come back from the dead.
I give thanks for life, all of us have emerged from our
visit to Palestine unscathed. Later, when I read more about the Church of the
Flagellation I learn that archaeologists have placed the place where Jesus was
actually whipped and fitted with a crown on the other side of town.
When leaving the church I join a large crowd of people who
are leaving services held the Al-Aqsa Mosque. I blend into the devoted
moslems, Arabs who amble out of
the city peacefully towards East Jerusalem, past streets bristling with weapons
and stiff lines of IDF soldiers. Thistles grow in the Valley of Kings, the widening trench that runs below the
old city and the Mount of Olives and I walk towards the Arab neighborhood of
Silwan. At the entrance to the neighborhood I visit the Siloam Pool, a site
mentioned in the Bible where it is believed Jesus healed a blind man. I talk to
Arab Christian boys who invite me into their home for coffee. Inside the whole
family welcomes me, they have never been to Bil'in, they are unclear of where
it lies, they are Arabs from Jerusalem and have lived here for millennia.
That evening, in my reading, I come across the astounding
idea that the crown of thorns may have actually been made from Gundelia
tournefortii or A'kkub. In 1999 the
infamous Shroud of Turin was analyzed for pollen grains and plant images. Some
believe the Shroud to be the burial cloth of Jesus, but scientific studies show
its origin in Jerusalem before the 8th Century. The analysis, presented at the
Internationl Botanical Congess in 1999, identifies a high density of pollen of
the tumbleweed. Near the image of the man's shoulder imprinted on the shroud
analysts declare they can devise an image of A'kkub.
A'kkub is the witness. Our murals of thistles are part of
ongoing creative efforts to use non-violent direct action in Bil'in. There are
few who will disagree that people will always struggle for self-determination.
We have been the first cultural delegation to carry out a residency in the
village and our actions have received support from Palestinian, International
and Israeli activists, creating
the possibility of new dialogues
and understandings. Despite the fires, these actions and modes of communication
are proliferating.
No matter what side of the road you are on or what stream of
history and culture you identify with, it's good to emulate thistles and other
democratic and enduring life forms.
As leaders in the movement for self-determination in Bil'in
and throughout Israeli and Arab Palestine often say, "One state or two
states?” is not the right question to start with. “The right question to ask
is, ‘What is the right thing to do that will guarantee the safety security, peace and humanity of
everybody in the long run?’
Once we can agree, we’ll work toward that.”
Perhaps there is no singular right thing, but cultural
action helps us have the conversations that must occur, helps us create common
goals as we learn to co exist with the painful memories and powerful cultures
that exist on both sides.
Persist.
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| An intergenerational and international thistle painting crew |
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| Thistles growing in the Valley of Kings |
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| Tear gas grenade that has set fire to brush and thistles in the Olive Groves near the Barrier Wall. |
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| Walking to school in the morning, Boys inspect the painted walls. |
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| Persist |
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| A'kkub is the witness |
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| Girls on the way home from school in Bil'in. |
Friday, November 7, 2014
Jerusalem at the Crossroads
There is a
crossroads of sorts as you drive down the main road into the village of Bil'in,
on the West Bank in Palestine. Three roads meet there and a one room, cinder block
structure stands in a triangle of dirt and garbage. It looks abandoned or maybe
half built, perhaps there was a fire. The white walls that line the streets
begin to narrow here and continue down towards the center of town. The mosque
and its minaret stand at the heart of the village, an older mosque and nearby
ruins attest to the millennia Bil'in has persisted.
But at this crossroads, there is nothing distinctive, the
dust and plastic swirl as large tractors and vehicles pass. It might be
anywhere. The front of the building is gone and it has only a partial roof.
White walls hug its ruin, its cipher of nowhere, far away on the West Bank.
It is certainly not Jerusalem.
In workshops
we hold at the start of our residency in Bil"in
a young woman makes a drawing of the Holy City. Palestinians
on the West Bank must obtain permission to travel to Jerusalem and cross the
checkpoints along the way. Many will never travel there at all. Her drawing symbolizes a day when the
Holy City is open to all. Her
Jerusalem floats in heavenly space, radiating light.
Later I see
sketches, Emma Elliot-Walker, my fellow artist from Scotland, has created;
simple box like Palestinian houses in bright colors. Throughout the residency
she shows skills as an educator and artist. Emma becomes an indispensable
partner on the streets of Bil'in. Soon her simple house forms will become part
of the symbolic language we will use in our re-enchantment of walls and roads.
I turn in a circle in the patch of dirt facing the cinder block building and
white walls enclose me on all sides. Gratefully I consider the stretch of white
wall; clear of grafitti and relatively smooth.
There is a gut wrenching quality to the work that is started
on these walls. As I walk by from a site further up the road that evening, I
brush the little boxes and touch the walls, a place where the forlorn mingles
with fierce hope. This is a
crossroads, a mysterious stop where you take the bus to the next place. But it
is no longer a faceless or remote corner, people have emerged from closed gates
and doors have opened during the work; we have had a glimpse of vibrant life
beyond the anonymous white walls of the street.
Anointed with labor, now the site sparkles, hums with busy
hands.
In the final days of the Bil'in residency most of the
artists visiting Bil'in help transform the indifferent walls into monument. As
a group we have witnessed violence and the power of imagination. Now good
people brush prayers of peace on thirsty surfaces. We give our actions
substance and power.
It’s a map of
the future. A Palestine with no walls.
"See, there is Jerusalem, and the gates are open."
Perhaps travelers to Bil'in will bring a brush and paint so
that the map can continue to be filled in. In between plans for demonstrations,
calls to prayer and the endless drone of vegetable trucks someone may ask children
walking home from school to make a wish and add to our common work. When I
return I want to paint a house with the Chilean flag, another with a star, Inca
symbols for the sun and Mayan glyphs for joy.
In the Holy
City, at the Carmelite convent at the top of the Mount of Olives the Lords
Prayer is written on in a hundred different languages on large tile murals.
People come from all over the world to see them. I took pictures of the Our
Father in the Guarani and Cree languages, but as far as I could tell there was
no plaque in Mapudungun, the language of the Mapuche in Chile.
Maybe at the crossroads where we imagine the future, we can
write peace in a hundred languages, make a house for everyone. First we have to
imagine that world, then later we will begin its construction. Again and again
until the houses stand, gates stay open, walls dismantle.
When our images fade, we will still remember what is
possible when imagination is set into action; the walls and people of Bil'in
burning like embers in our memories.
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| photo Kathleen Blackistone |
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| Emma Elliot Walker photo Kathleen Blackistone |
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| Sketch by Emma E-W |
Imagination in Action- Transforming Palestine
Just returning from Bil'in Palestine. The experience was extraordinary, grateful to all those who supported the project, and for the opportunity to collaborate with so many talented and committed individuals. Bil'in and the magnificent and heroic people who live there burn like embers in my heart.
Francisco Letelier
Transforming Palestine Bil'in Palestine Residency with Imaginaction
http://www.middleeasteye.net/multimedia/photo-galleries/artistic-protest-bilin-1558757063
click through to Artistic Protest in Bil'in
Wednesday, November 20, 2013
El Arte de Francisco Letelier
Francisco Letelier un artista Chileno residente en Los
Angeles California, es reconocido por sus murales, obras de arte publico, exhibiciones y trabajos
graficos.
Sus obras monumentales en el Metro de Los Angeles son vistas cada dia por miles de personas. Fue nominado para un premio Grammy y ha recibido el premio Artcore y el premio Siquieros en reconocimiento por sus aportes a la ciudad de Los Angeles. En sus performances, instalaciones y obras poeticas, Letelier explora los limites de la memoria, el exilio y la identidad Latinoamericana.
Durante el exilio Chileno, Letelier fue uno de los
fundadores de La Brigada Orlando Letelier, un grupo que ha pintado murales colectivos e
organizado proyectos culturales a traves de los Estados Unidos y las Americas
por mas de 30 años. En un regreso
a Chile durante la dictadura, Letelier se integro con artistas que hacian arte
clandestino en las calles y al regresar a Los Angeles siguio creando arte
motivado por estas experiencias. Con un enfoque en los derechos humanos y justicia
social sus proyectos de dialogo, educacion y participacion colectiva lo han
llevado desde Iquitos, Peru a Belfast en Irlanda del Norte. Las obras del artista han sido exhibidas en el Museo de Arte
Contemporaneo en Santiago y el mural ‘La Mujer del Bosque’ se encuentra en
comuna de El Bosque.
En 2008 Letelier formo parte de un acto para cual se
reunieron miles de personas en el Parque O’Higgins. Colaborando con
organizaciones ecologistas e actriz Leonor Varela, el artista diseño una gigante
ballena humana, en la que participó la ministra de Medio Ambiente, Ana Lya Uriarte. La ballena fue
fotografiada desde el aire por un helicóptero, tal como se ha hecho en otras
partes del mundo. apoyando la iniciativa de Chile para crear un santuario de
ballenas.
Letelier sigue creando puentes de intercambio entre Los
Angeles y Chile y es uno de los fundadores de ARTBLOCK una associacion de
artistas independientes que crea programas para el publico.
Tuesday, May 28, 2013
Venice West mural : somewhere between Ginsberg and Kerouac
Joseph Lapin La Weekly Blog 10 Essential Beat Generation Landmarks in Los Angeles
Power Points at historic Avenue 50 Studio in Highland Park
ArtScene Magazine
Diane Calder
Pueblo Chucho/ Dogtown Mural
Created with Mary Fama, the Pueblo Chucho mural is located in the heart of the Oakwood neighborhood of Venice on 6th Avenue between Indiana Ave and Brooks Ave. The mural is inspired by the history of the neighborhood and our personal experiences on this stretch of sidewalk.
This is the third mural that I have painted with Mary. Although this mural is a sidewalk level mural and is on a smaller scale than a majority of my murals, we continue to receive great feedback from residents and passerby. The mural underlines the difference between much of the street art seen in Venice; work that is created with less regard to site, cultural histories and realities and murals like this one . The majority of the murals and public art I facilitate and help create provide a departure point to examine identity and local culture in a celebratory and inclusive manner. Viva Dogtown!
This is the third mural that I have painted with Mary. Although this mural is a sidewalk level mural and is on a smaller scale than a majority of my murals, we continue to receive great feedback from residents and passerby. The mural underlines the difference between much of the street art seen in Venice; work that is created with less regard to site, cultural histories and realities and murals like this one . The majority of the murals and public art I facilitate and help create provide a departure point to examine identity and local culture in a celebratory and inclusive manner. Viva Dogtown!
Saturday, May 7, 2011
VIOLIN. STEEL PAN. GUITAR. VoiceMusic flowing like water...
Please join us, bring a friend, join our Black-Brown Dialogues, as we again cross borders together guided by Inspiration--June 4. 7 pm @ Highland Park Ebell Club House, 131 S Avenue 57, Los Angeles, CA 90042.
FREE ADMISSION/ peter j harris
The Black/Brown DialoguesInspiration House PoetryChoircurated by Peter J. HarrisArtistic Director, Inspiration HouseDate: Saturday, June 4, 2011Time: 7 pmPlace: Highland Park Ebell Club House131 S Avenue 57, Los Angeles, CA 90042Featuring spoken word by:Peter J. HarrisGloria AlvarezV KaliFrancisco LetelierGina LoringFeaturing music by:Curtis Robertson, Jr., bass/guitarAlan Mark Lightner, steel panRocio Marron, violin
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