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Disappearances. Not the kind where a magician waves a cape and a tiger vanishes. Not the kind where your socks go after laundry day. I’m writing about musicians who drift beyond the horizon for a spell and come back carrying stories nobody expected.
That brings us to Juan Son.
You might remember him from Porter, that band from Guadalajara, Mexico that sounded like they were transmitting dreams through a broken carnival mirror. Porter came along and bent indie rock into strange new shapes.
Juan Son's voice is elastic, restless, full of strange colors. Open your ears for that track “Vaquero Galáctico” or “Bailando con mi Virginidad” or his solo “Abandonado” and his one absolutely perfect “Amor Maicero” oh me oh my. One minute his voice is floating like smoke over city lights, the next it's cracking apart like an old transistor radio picking up signals from somewhere beyond the map. There's a playful danger in the way he sings, as if he's chasing a melody that's trying to escape him. You hear echoes of rock, psychedelia, and something entirely his own. Not many singers sound like they're discovering the song at the exact moment they're singing it. Juan Son does. Not many singers sound exactly like the record when performing live. Juan Son does. And that's a rare thing.
Ok, so here comes the turnaround of the tortilla. Somewhere along the road, Juan Son stepped away from the vehicle. And disappear he did. He packed a bag, slipped out of the center ring and hit the road to who knows where. No mobile phone no nothing. While the world was getting faster, louder, more connected, Juan Son seemed to wander into his own dimension taking small jobs here and there. Years rolled by. Entire digital civilizations rose and fell. People stopped buying CDs, started carrying the whole jukebox in their pockets, and invented new ways to communicate using dancing cats and pictures of distracted boyfriends. Meanwhile, Juan Son was off exploring artistic wilderness.
Then one day he came back. And here's my favorite part of the story: by the time he returned, the culture had changed so much that he reportedly didn't even know what a meme was. Imagine that. A man leaves the party for a little while and comes back to find everybody speaking in hieroglyphics made of reaction images and inside jokes. Somewhere along the way, the internet had turned into a giant campfire where millions of people told the same joke a thousand different ways. Juan Son looked around and said, essentially: "A what now?" There's something beautiful about that. I admire him for that. While the rest of us were measuring time in notifications, he was measuring it somewhere else entirely. Most people fear being out of touch. Some artists disappear long enough to discover what touch really means.
When he returned, he didn't come back as a museum piece or a nostalgia act. He came back sounding like someone who had been listening to signals from another frequency. The track “Siento” with its marvelous video was born. The years away hadn't preserved him in amber; they'd transformed him.
And maybe that's the lesson. Sometimes the world races ahead inventing memes, trends, hashtags, and digital dialects. Sometimes an artist vanishes into the woods, into the sea and returns carrying something older and stranger than any of them.
He'd been living in a caravan, making music from there, following his own rhythm far from the noise. A truthful Aquarius.
Juan Son missed the meme. But he didn't miss the music.
ink, watercolor on paper
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Open archive, es-tu-dios(a), proceso.
acrylic, oilcloth, embroidery on canvas.
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Mirza Shahzad Akbar the Pakistani lawyer and director at the Foundation for Fundamental Rights, renowned for his legal action against the USA for drone strikes in Pakistan, has criticized the USA for authorizing drone strikes in Yemen. In an article by Jason Koebler on Aljazeera, Akbar states “They can’t kill them if they know someone is a low value target, however they can kill if they don’t know that person… They have a checklist, and here’s what they’re looking for—Are they carrying weapons? Do they have a beard and a turban? Are they traveling with a large group of people? Well, everyone in that area carries a weapon, a beard is part of the religion, turban is part of the culture. As for traveling in a group, well, it’s a society that has bigger families. If you’re looking for a pattern like this, you’re killing citizens and civilians. …The CIA is, so far, the only source of information. Look at the quality of the information they give you—it’s nothing. Who are they killing? Who are these people? What are their names? They say they’re taking out the bad guys, but the facts on the ground are very different, there are a huge number of women, children, elderly and incapacitated people. …Once people learn what’s really happening, they’ll complain. People need to make an informed decision.” Inspired by Jason Koebler ow.ly/bs4MT image source Twitter ow.ly/bs5QO
Henri Matisse (1869-1954), was a leader of the fauves, a group of French painters working in the early 1900s, known for their expressive use of color. Matisse is best known for his paintings of interior scenes, and for Jazz, a series of paper cutouts he completed late in his career.
British Artist: Andrew Campbell: VisualBites:
Art Studio Studies: Portfolio Maquettes: #01-1000
Project-7: Netscapes+Subterfuge: iphone-sketchbooks:
#artforsocialmedia #AndrewCampbell
Artist Ref: www.andrew-campbell.com
British Artist: Andrew Campbell: VisualBites:
Art Studio Studies: Portfolio Maquettes: #01-1000
Project-7: Netscapes+Subterfuge: iphone-sketchbooks:
#artforsocialmedia #AndrewCampbell
Artist Ref: www.andrew-campbell.com
British Artist: Andrew Campbell: VisualBites:
Art Studio Studies: Portfolio Maquettes: #01-1000
Project-7: Netscapes+Subterfuge: iphone-sketchbooks:
#artforsocialmedia #AndrewCampbell
Artist Ref: www.andrew-campbell.com
British Artist: Andrew Campbell: VisualBites:
Art Studio Studies: Portfolio Maquettes: #01-1000
Project-7: Netscapes+Subterfuge: iphone-sketchbooks:
#artforsocialmedia #AndrewCampbell
Artist Ref: www.andrew-campbell.com
Shot at Maidan, Calcutta during an afternoon spent with family.
In the distance, the iconic Vidyasagar Setu (bridge) can be seen.
More images: Facebook page.
British Artist: Andrew Campbell: VisualBites:
Art Studio Studies: Portfolio Maquettes: #01-1000
Project-7: Netscapes+Subterfuge: iphone-sketchbooks:
#artforsocialmedia #AndrewCampbell
Artist Ref: www.andrew-campbell.com
SKIN: [DD] SKING*SANTOSS*NATURAL slurl.com/secondlife/DD%20GROUP/112/66/55
SHAPE: made by himself
EYES: Expressive eyes blue 1 by Nany Merlin "SOUL SKIN" slurl.com/secondlife/Skin/194/144/39
HAIR: <> Prim Hair [ SHONO ] MilkyBrown
CLOTHES: ::GABRIEL::Luxury RED suit / in black shirt slurl.com/secondlife/GABRIEL/128/124/23
The monsters are closer than you think. That’s right, is Guillermo, Guillermo del Toro we celebrate today.
Now that’s a name like a secret code, isn’t it? Like something carved into a cathedral wall, or whispered by a ghost behind a velvet curtain. Guillermo means ‘William’ in Spanish… and ‘del Toro’? That means ‘of the bull.’ But this ain’t no cowboy story, and he ain’t no matador. He’s a dreamer, a weaver of shadow and gold.
“I come from a culture of arranging. In Mexico, you give us five objects we’ll make an altar. We communicate by arranging all these complex things. To the point where the Baroque (style) was just Baroque enough for Europeans, but when it came to Mexico we made the Baroque of the Baroque, which is Churriguera. Which means, when the Europeans came in with their excesses, we said, ‘It needs more shit.’ That’s me.”
Oh Guillermo I hear you. That’s me too.
He was born in Guadalajara, Mexico. Land of color, land of ghosts, land of saints with bleeding eyes and demons that sleep under your bed. Grew up drawing monsters instead of superheroes, and reading books about things you ain’t supposed to talk about in polite company. He said he met a ghost when he was a boy, and I believe him. Most folks run from monsters. Guillermo runs toward them. Gives them names. Gives them hearts. Says they’re misunderstood. Says the real monsters wear suits, hold power, shake hands while they sharpen knives behind their backs. He made a movie about a vampire in the sewer. Another one about a devil with a cigar and a red right hand. And one about a girl who fell in love with a fish-man and gave him everything she had. Sounds strange, doesn’t it? But love usually is.
They say his house is full of curiosities, (life), sized wax figures, Victorian medical diagrams, old books that smell like sorrow and dust. There’s a room called The Rain Room, where it’s always drizzling. He keeps it for thinking. I knew a guy once who had a thunderstorm in his closet, but that’s another story.
Guillermo’s the kind of guy who makes the ugly beautiful and the scary sacred. He don’t make movies, he makes lullabies for the damned. Gothic fairy tales with teeth. Tells the kind of stories where the princess saves herself or dies trying.
So if you ever find yourself walking down a dark alley and something scuttles across the bricks, don’t be afraid. Could be one of Guillermo’s friends. Could be a story looking for an ending. Or maybe it’s just the city breathing heavy in its sleep.
watercolor, ink on paper
contact ibarraloana@gmail.com
British Artist: Andrew Campbell: VisualBites:
Art Studio Studies: Portfolio Maquettes: #01-1000
Project-7: Netscapes+Subterfuge: iphone-sketchbooks:
#artforsocialmedia #AndrewCampbell
Artist Ref: www.andrew-campbell.com
There’s a kid in this story, a girl, a five year old, with knees a little shaky, dreams a little too big for ballet slippers, and a stubborn little flame burning inside. Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, she’d walk into the only studio in town like it was a cathedral, where the altar was a mirror and the prayer was movement. Classical ballet — where every toe point had a purpose and every pirouette and plié -petit, demi, grand- was a rebellion against gravity.
From five to twelve, it wasn’t just discipline, it was devotion. A kind of quiet fire, practiced in pink tights, a too tight slick bun with the help of lemon juice and metallic dark-blue body. You don’t clock in for ballet. You surrender to it. And somewhere in that stretch of childhood, around the age of nine, the world paused for a moment.
Picture this: A grand, echoey room. Royal Academy of Classical Ballet London to examine her devotion. One child, alone. The music? Chopin, played live by a pianist whose fingers spoke in sighs. And the judge? A strict woman with a face carved from stone, dressed in gray, platinum hair, posture carved from legacy. No smiles. No second takes. No movements except for a strict hand taking notes. That kid? She danced. No backup dancers, no applause, just her body talking to the air. Talking to Chopin. Talking to the silence. There are diplomas in an archive, somewhere between a Jim Morrison book filled of poems and a shrine, quiet little witnesses to what happened that day. Proof that she stood there, trembling scared, but still danced like her life depended on it.
Because for her, it kinda did.
See, some people grow up needing answers.
Others grow up needing to ask questions. But her? She needed to manifest. To make meaning from movement. To tell stories without a single word.
Years later, ballet gave way to something wilder. Something with heels that struck the floor like thunder. Flamenco. Seven hours a week; sweat, song, mystery and soul. Not just steps, but duende. The stuff Lorca wrote poems about. And just like that, it wasn’t about the Royal Academy anymore. It was about reclaiming rhythm. Shaping identity with each stomp and spin. Dance as defiance. Dance as prayer. But here’s a little secret, all that ballet background is very useful in Flamenco, a very strong ground to be proud of (despite deformed feet); the shape, the body awareness, the arm movements, the straight back, the shape of the hands alone, the fingers, the lion chest.
And that kid? It’s I, still dancing, still calling it my lifesaver. Even when I’m standing still.
//Carl Jung once said “it’s better to dance through life”, Loana Ibarra says that too.
A Glitch "Niqab (κερί) ~ Ètude I”
This art piece were created for my PhD and based on a Digital and Analog Aesthetic Research on "Artistic Practices, Digital Art in Social Networks and Net Art", some digital techniques used of artistic diversity, such as the re-mixed appropriation of image or video, also work conceived as original data work called creative altered binary code, datamoshing, generative art and glitch art worked in all its forms and expressions; works of art with a strong focus decoding the i-frames of images and videos (also known as key frames and altered or distorted creative binary code) mixed with seductive techniques of Pixelsorting Art; making it seem extremely sensitive and abstract; created exclusively for the virtual gallery on-line.
by ™℗®© Louis M o n t i e l
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#visualartists #glitchart #glitch #glitché #pixelsorting #glitchartistscollective #glitchvideo #datamosh #digitalglitch #videoglitch #hyperspektiv #minimalart #videoart #dfkt #pixelsorter #artistsvisual #glitchartoninstagram #glitchartscollective #glitcharts #glitchartistcommunity #glitchartwork #glitchartisdead #glitchartists #glitchartcommunity #glitchartistcollective #glitchartist #pixelsortingart #proceduralart #creativecodeart #glitchportrait
Lotería (Spanish word meaning "lottery") is a traditional mexican game of chance, similar to bingo, but using images on a deck of cards instead of numbered ping pong balls. The traditional Lotería card deck is composed of a set of 54 different cards, each with a different picture. The caller is called cantor, Spanish for "singer". The winner is the first that shouts "Lotería!", in this case “Loanatería!”
8 El Diablo
8/54
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embroidery
D798_002b
04/07/2015 : Le Puy-Sainte-Réparade, Château La Coste : exposition Different Places (Sean Scully)
In February 2006 Craig Tracy opened the PaintedAlive Gallery in his home city, New Orleans, La, USA. PaintedAlive is the first gallery in the world dedicated exclusively to fine art Bodypainted images. But where did his passion for using the human body as a canvas start?
Read on...
N E W S !
Juried exhibition, consisting of, among others, the deirector of Moderna Museet Malmö.
For artists operating in Southern Sweden, Scania (Skåne) and Zealand (Själland, Denamark). 6 artists were selected.
"Mexico rides Sweden" was selected poster for the exhibition.
The exhibition will be on tour for 2 months. This is how the invitation looks like inside and outside the intraweb.
Welcomna!
WE go on tour!
Automotive Rhythms latest project combined our passions for automobiles and the arts. AR's 2016 Kia Sorento SXL 2.0T AWD was also the canvas for artist Jamaal Newman’s creation during the ART-of-Motion (AOM) exhibit in Washington, D.C. aka As ABOVE, So BELOW.
Jamaal was one of the featured visual painters of AOM produced and executed by Automotive Rhythms during the 2016 Washington Auto Show. He painted the Sorento live during the Auto Show in just under 13 hours. Inspired by the South Korean origin of Kia Motors and his research on the Korean War, the artist wanted his creation to symbolically unify North and South Korea. As ABOVE, So BELOW features a lion from Zion on the passenger’s side representing the North while a shark on the South guards the driver’s side. Unification is represented on the hood, meshing the Korean flag with the Yin and Yang badge to signify balance in Korea. Stated Jamaal, “Through my creative vision I wanted to bring equality and unity to Korea.”
Today we celebrate the one and only, one sitting high on the podium inside my head, a man who didn’t just play the guitar, he interrogated it. Put it under a bright light. Asked it questions it didn’t want to answer. Frank Zappa.
Frank Zappa didn’t look like a preacher, but he sure preached about freedom, about nonsense, about the way the U.S. sells you a dream and hands you the receipt later. He was a composer who dressed like a rock musician, or maybe a rock musician who hid a symphony in his back pocket. Hard to tell with Zappa. He liked it that way. Zappa believed intelligence should be loud. Not polite. Not tidy. And definitely not marketed. He wrote music that laughed at you while teaching you something and then laughed again when you thought you got the joke. Songs about consumer culture, political hypocrisy, and the great American pastime of not paying attention.
Frank Zappa’s music didn’t sit still. It paced. It argued with itself. Sometimes it tripped over the furniture on purpose. You couldn’t tap your foot to it unless your foot had read the instruction manual first. Zappa treated rock ’n’ roll like raw material, not a finished product. He mixed it with jazz, modern classical, doo-wop, rhythm and blues, and sounds that didn’t even have a name yet. I call it Zappaism. If it made people uncomfortable, that was usually a good sign. He wrote songs that changed time signatures the way most people change their mind. One minute you’re cruising, next minute the road disappears and you’re flying. And he demanded things from his musicians.
Precision. Attention. The kind of focus usually reserved for surgeons or chess players. Zappa didn’t believe chaos happened by accident. If it sounded wild, it was because someone practiced it that way. Every odd turn, every sudden stop, every note that made you say “wait — what?” was there because he put it there. His guitar playing wasn’t about speed for the sake of speed. It was conversational. Long solos that felt like a man thinking out loud, sometimes contradicting himself mid-sentence, sometimes landing on a truth he didn’t know he was chasing. And then there were the melodies, often sweet, sometimes ugly, frequently hilarious, and just as often beautiful when you weren’t expecting it. Zappa didn’t separate “serious” music from “funny” music. To him, humor was a form of intelligence. If you couldn’t laugh at the world, you probably weren’t listening closely enough. He wrote orchestral pieces that belonged in concert halls and garage-band anthems that sounded like they’d been recorded in the parking lot, sometimes on the same album, sometimes in the same song. Zappa’s music didn’t ask for your agreement. It asked for your attention. And if you gave it that, if you followed the twists, embraced the nonsense, and trusted that the man at the wheel knew where he was going you realized something: Frank Zappa wasn’t trying to fit into music history. He was writing footnotes, cross-references, and entire chapters that nobody else had thought to open yet.
Now here’s something that surprised a lot of people: Frank Zappa didn’t drink. Didn’t take drugs. Didn’t romanticize any of it. At a time when excess was being sold as enlightenment, Zappa looked at the whole parade and said, “No thanks. I’ve got work to do.” He thought drugs dulled the mind. Said they interfered with discipline. And discipline, to Zappa, was freedom, the freedom to finish what you start and hear what you actually meant to say. He saw addiction as a business model, not a rebellion. A way to keep artists foggy and audiences easier to sell to. If you wanted to play with Zappa, well, you had to keep away from drugs and alcohol to keep your jobb. But tobacco, that was a different story…
“Well, to me, a cigarette is food. Now that may be a baffling concept for people in San Francisco who have this theory that they WILL live forever if they stamp out tobacco smoke”
Zappa smoked. Didn’t pretend it was healthy. Didn’t dress it up as a philosophy either. He treated it like a tool, or maybe a vice he understood too well to mythologize. He once suggested cigarettes didn’t make you creative, they just gave you something to do with your hands while the ideas showed up on their own schedule. No halos. No slogans. Just honesty.
And that was Frank Zappa’s real protest: clarity. In a culture high on slogans, he stayed stubbornly sober, mentally, at least. Questioning everything. Refusing to play the role they wrote for him. Zappa didn’t want you to escape reality. He wanted you to look straight at it and notice how strange it already was. And that’s the kind of music that doesn’t fade out, it just keeps asking questions long after the needle lifts.
ink, watercolor on paper
contact ibarraloana@gmail.com
Ordered some business cards from MOO and I LOVE them!
Next up...website overhaul... I know what I want. Now, I just need to team up with a technical wizard. Know one? Are you one? Wanna work with a detail-oriented, ambitious creative type who has a ridiculously large costume collection and a wacky sense of humor? Let's talk. I need some help.
You know, there used to be a belief that royalty was chosen by heaven. The ancient Egyptians thought kings were descended from the sun. Some folks believed monarchs could heal disease with a touch of their hand. But every once in a while somebody comes along who makes you wonder if maybe those old stories weren't entirely wrong.
Prince came from Minneapolis, Minnesota. Not exactly the place people expected to become the center of a musical empire. Most people think of Minneapolis and they think of snowbanks, frozen lakes, and windshield scrapers. Prince looked at all that ice and somehow found a way to turn it into fire. He played guitar like somebody trying to outrun a thunderstorm. Played piano, bass, drums, keyboards. Some people collect stamps. Some people collect cars. Prince collected instruments and taught them all to speak the same language.
The old blues singers used to talk about crossroads. Places where one road becomes another road and a person becomes somebody else. Robert Johnson supposedly found one down in Mississippi. Prince found one somewhere between funk, rock and roll, gospel music, soul music, and whatever planet he happened to wake up on that morning. You'd hear one of his songs come out of the record player and it sounded like tomorrow had arrived early.
There have always been musicians who wanted to be stars. Prince seemed more interested in becoming a constellation. He wore purple the way some people wear a uniform. Purple's a funny color. It's halfway between a bruise and a sunset. Roman emperors loved it because the dye was rare and expensive. Prince made it seem like it had been invented just for him.
People called him mysterious, but musicians understood exactly what they were looking at. They were seeing somebody who treated music the way a blacksmith treats iron. Heat it up, hammer it down, reshape it, start over. Again and again until it glows. A lot of performers spend their lives trying to fit into a category. Rock singer. Funk artist. Pop star. Prince treated categories the way a tornado treats a picket fence. One minute he'd be whispering something that sounded like a secret. Next minute he'd be leading a band that sounded like the end of the world arriving in high heels.
And maybe that's why people still talk about him the way they do. Not because he was perfect. Not because he was famous. Because every generation gets a few artists who remind everybody else that the rules were always optional. The rest of us learn the map. Prince kept drawing new roads. And if you happen to see one of those roads stretching off into the distance somewhere late at night, glowing purple under a streetlamp, you might want to follow it. It probably leads somewhere interesting.
ink, watercolor on paper
contact ibarraloana@gmail.com
Automotive Rhythms latest project combined our passions for automobiles and the arts. AR's 2016 Kia Sorento SXL 2.0T AWD was also the canvas for artist Jamaal Newman’s creation during the ART-of-Motion (AOM) exhibit in Washington, D.C. aka As ABOVE, So BELOW.
Jamaal was one of the featured visual painters of AOM produced and executed by Automotive Rhythms during the 2016 Washington Auto Show. He painted the Sorento live during the Auto Show in just under 13 hours. Inspired by the South Korean origin of Kia Motors and his research on the Korean War, the artist wanted his creation to symbolically unify North and South Korea. As ABOVE, So BELOW features a lion from Zion on the passenger’s side representing the North while a shark on the South guards the driver’s side. Unification is represented on the hood, meshing the Korean flag with the Yin and Yang badge to signify balance in Korea. Stated Jamaal, “Through my creative vision I wanted to bring equality and unity to Korea.”
Thirroul residents, photographer John Skuja, and visual artist Tanya Stubbles, makers of the One on One: Change slideshow Acacia and Alchemy.
This is a pen and ink (pointalism) drawing, of an old woman of African ancestry, who have seen it all.
D973_063b
18/07/2021 : Arles, boulevard Emile-Combes, Croisière : exposition Etudes en vibration (Reeve Schumacher)
A Glitch "Prodigiosum Contortion(σύσπαση) ~ Ètude II”
This art piece were created for my PhD and based on a Digital and Analog Aesthetic Research on "Artistic Practices, Digital Art in Social Networks and Net Art", some digital techniques used of artistic diversity, such as the re-mixed appropriation of image or video, also work conceived as original data work called creative altered binary code, datamoshing, generative art and glitch art worked in all its forms and expressions; works of art with a strong focus decoding the i-frames of images and videos (also known as key frames and altered or distorted creative binary code) mixed with seductive techniques of Pixelsorting Art; making it seem extremely sensitive and abstract; created exclusively for the virtual gallery on-line.
by ™℗®© Louis M o n t i e l
NFT Crypto Digital Art
Marketplace on qurable.co : Buy, Shell & Explore Digital Assets
app.qurable.co/c-louis-montiel
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#visualartists #glitchart #glitch #glitché #pixelsorting #glitchartistscollective #glitchvideo #datamosh #digitalglitch #nfts #hyperspektiv #minimalart #videoart #dfkt #pixelsorter #artistsvisual #nftart #glitchartscollective #glitcharts #nftartist #glitchartwork #glitchartisdead #glitchartists #nftcommunity #nft #glitchartist #pixelsortingart #nftartists #creativecodeart #glitchportrait