tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-44066495154116690662024-02-01T19:05:38.471-08:00Alfonso Jaramillo visual artistgraphic design, Art intervention, music, anti poesia y otras yerbasAlfonso Jaramillohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140238896039253040noreply@blogger.comBlogger44125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4406649515411669066.post-26728829132431336932010-02-23T14:54:00.000-08:002010-02-23T16:02:53.745-08:00I only said that because I was angry<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwdSmgfFdOSnCakAzSLgN0WBx-pCdmBz0ikvwpCV9FcynDB-RKpsokuRjBuZfoV3bYbIb91WeG3HEE-vO74tMyjVb2BPDvQYM4UqHASDVMJ2bMPhlcQUyfKGgOJ2PqfiLcrbHGS9kHlK4/s1600-h/IMG_1607sm.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwdSmgfFdOSnCakAzSLgN0WBx-pCdmBz0ikvwpCV9FcynDB-RKpsokuRjBuZfoV3bYbIb91WeG3HEE-vO74tMyjVb2BPDvQYM4UqHASDVMJ2bMPhlcQUyfKGgOJ2PqfiLcrbHGS9kHlK4/s400/IMG_1607sm.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441583626135374146" /></a><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">I only said that because I was angry</span> was an on-site mixed media installation I did for the First Annual Visual Poetry Festival in San Francisco last year. It explores the problem of domestic violence by juxtaposing five kitchen implements, wrapped in packaging twine, with a text that takes the voice of an abuser through the classic stages of a domestic abuse cycle. The piece is both autobiographical and universal as the text was derived from the things my abusive ex-partner would say to me as she went through what I later learned was a typical domestic abuse cycle.* It took me 2 years of processing and healing before I could put this 'writing on the wall' as they say, and turn a painful personal experience into an art piece that speaks to the collective experience of domestic abuse. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7H7ZQ5iNXF9NoInx2D_7UKlc5aByqNJjMsLOvxDKpdNZdVNKDjsGzK1TBH-0146WeXGdaMfmdokV3DlIPSDurnWNV9PKUdsiwnplmGpCeTzJRgzfTWzYD2qCIxl01i_0twpHUOwPIkGE/s1600-h/IMG_1650.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7H7ZQ5iNXF9NoInx2D_7UKlc5aByqNJjMsLOvxDKpdNZdVNKDjsGzK1TBH-0146WeXGdaMfmdokV3DlIPSDurnWNV9PKUdsiwnplmGpCeTzJRgzfTWzYD2qCIxl01i_0twpHUOwPIkGE/s400/IMG_1650.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441584247462623346" /></a><br /><br />"Baby, I only tell you what's wrong because I love you. You are way too sensitive. I'm not mad, I'm just a little disappointed. If you really knew me you would know how I feel; if you have to ask its too late. You just can't take criticism because you are weak. Eres Patético."<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKz9EmsyNGvUQxU3TV6dp2c9IjbMnDR_ZSXIBh3Z2o3RmlKDiWPXY2Ozp5kosumuc5nffrvqTEs44dnDYAuZh_261xORARHFYrH2krxLlDKquzQ5Orhi9z6sWHH5FRyG58c7qFXcPBYPA/s1600-h/IMG_1641.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKz9EmsyNGvUQxU3TV6dp2c9IjbMnDR_ZSXIBh3Z2o3RmlKDiWPXY2Ozp5kosumuc5nffrvqTEs44dnDYAuZh_261xORARHFYrH2krxLlDKquzQ5Orhi9z6sWHH5FRyG58c7qFXcPBYPA/s400/IMG_1641.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441585742186814482" /></a><br /><br />"You are nothing without me. You don't deserve me. Don't make me angry, now. This is all your fault. You are not going anywhere. Just wait 'til we get home. I don't want to talk about it anymore. Believe me: This hurts me more than it hurts you. Sometimes I just lose control. If you really love me, you'll forgive me. I promise I'll never do it again. I only said that because I was angry."<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnqmgMrS22ZquVUxQgvHIDHPZdhBFE8Is6gwkOqHOM-LfaCTjXyylET6HCXvi7dSt9Egu3ov_M501SVtJfAm-ujl_DavfBFp-jk8FkMN-F40O5Wb41QNycOVmo37rIgvgEpesuRcGKmJY/s1600-h/IMG_1652.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnqmgMrS22ZquVUxQgvHIDHPZdhBFE8Is6gwkOqHOM-LfaCTjXyylET6HCXvi7dSt9Egu3ov_M501SVtJfAm-ujl_DavfBFp-jk8FkMN-F40O5Wb41QNycOVmo37rIgvgEpesuRcGKmJY/s400/IMG_1652.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441585754764514306" /></a><br /><br />* A typical domestic abuse cycle starts with a build up of tension that eventually leads to abuse and is followed by a rationalization stage that includes blaming and apologizing while making excuses and promises that it won't happen again. An abusive act can take many forms, with violent acts being the most devastating in the short term. This piece explores the more subtle and elusive ways of verbal forms of abuse that occur even in relationships where there is no physical abuse: Establishing control, praying on fears and insecurities, blaming, shaming, intimidating the other and fostering low self esteem and dependency.<br /><br />The feedback that I got during the exhibit was amazing as the piece spoke to many people in different ways that I did not foresee. Even though my intent <span style="font-style:italic;">was</span> to create a work of art that would make this usually hidden discourse of the abuser visible, many people were relating these very words to their own lives and questioning the role that one or another form of verbal abuse has played in their relationships.Alfonso Jaramillohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140238896039253040noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4406649515411669066.post-56068410259676976592009-07-06T17:26:00.000-07:002010-02-23T16:11:37.020-08:00Video sobre el colectivo 911 al cuadrado realizado por el programa "Vamos Chile"<object width="340" height="285"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/V5GYDwNZ7Rw&hl=en_US&fs=1&border=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/V5GYDwNZ7Rw&hl=en_US&fs=1&border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="340" height="285"></embed></object>Alfonso Jaramillohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140238896039253040noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4406649515411669066.post-127661837939639042009-02-01T12:59:00.000-08:002009-02-01T13:01:41.037-08:00Empathy comes of age at Malcolm X ElementaryThis is a true story about a group of second graders, their school, and their families, who taught me that the strength of a community stems from compassion and mutual support.<br /><br />I'll start un-poetically and bluntly... A fight broke out during the second grade performance at my son's school, Berkeley's distinguished Malcolm X Elementary, last Thursday evening. So what's so unusual about a fight at school? Well, besides the fact that fights are rare at our school in the first place, the ones involved weren't second graders but rather, a group of parents who had gone to see their children's performance.<br /><br />It started in the most ridiculous way imaginable that we can easily imagine: someone's cell phone ringing during the final dance number of the third play of the night. Words were exchanged between two men who came to blows and it quickly escalated into a full-blown brawl with at least one more person, a woman, taking part in the violence. A parent from my son's class who was nearby tried to break up the fight and was attacked as well. Meanwhile pandemonium broke out; people were running, children screaming. Many of us just stood there, trying to keep a safe distance from the fight while watching over our children, unable to believe what we were witnessing... When I first heard the scuffling coming from the back of the auditorium, I thought folks were dancing along to the kids' performance but then I saw a man hitting another with a chair and quickly realized this was no dance-along. I tried to stay cool and scanned the area to make sure that no children were threatened (all the second graders were upfront next to the stage along with their teachers and a few parents) but there were siblings in the audience.<br /><br />The violence ended quickly. The culprits were scurried out of the auditorium and police were called to the scene. I remember thinking to myself "how dare they..." and wondering if those involved were parents or outsiders who had come into the school looking for trouble. Memories of my own experience with domestic violence flashed through my head and I felt at once guilty and scared.<br /><br />After one of those eternal minutes, our school principal took to the stage and seized the microphone, announcing that the brawlers were no longer in the auditorium and calling for people to calm down and return to their seats. She spoke with encouraging resolve to parents and students alike, saying something to the effect of "we will not let this incident ruin our second graders' performance and experience of this evening" and asked the class that had been onstage if they wanted to start the dance number over and finish the play. To this the children answered with a resounding "yes!" and were instantly greeted with the parents' adrenaline and anxiety filled cheers; the show was on again and even tough we were shaken by the fight, we gathered our strength and came together as a community to support our children and show them that our love for them is much bigger than the damage that this awful incident could possibly bring to them.<br /><br />The following day, as parents had gathered at the school to recoup and discuss the situation, a parent approached me, the mother of one of Sebastian's classmates who uses a wheelchair part of the time. "I just wanted to tell you that last night, your son came up to me and asked if Milo was OK; Sebastian was very concerned that Milo wouldn't be able to get away from the fight quickly enough." She was very touched by my son's concern for Milo. I played it down at the time and said something like "All the students look out for Milo, he's a really great kid" but deep inside I was choking up, feeling very proud of my boy's sincere expression of empathy at a time when most were just trying to get away from the fight and thinking that it is during these trying times, that offer a window into our souls, that one's true character emerges. I was so proud of Sebastian, of Milo, of being a Malcolm X parent, and grateful for being part of a community of people who are at the same time, teaching and learning from our children that true strength comes from the heart.<br /><br />During our class' performance (which was prior to the fight breaking out) Ms. Gold's second graders told the story of Philippe Petit, the man who walked a tight rope between the twin towers of the World Trade Center in 1974. Milo requested not to have his wheelchair during the performance which ended with the class spinning around on their bottoms while Milo stood up and waved to the audience. I don't think this story needs an ending really, because the story of love and hate is far from over... This is a picture I took of Milo standing tall at Malcolm X Elementary.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuSghhHnIOYEFxAJel2UgaC5s9v69-9cHs6U9BcN8rQvMIN1T_lP53mAa4ei0mrZ9FE4gsehVwt1CY-_OY0t5CZd6cFr6jb7ZzTOGIXPm7zdc3zRxrvHzcBkvIFY2dJd_VdehjWI3LmzU/s1600-h/_MG_1132.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuSghhHnIOYEFxAJel2UgaC5s9v69-9cHs6U9BcN8rQvMIN1T_lP53mAa4ei0mrZ9FE4gsehVwt1CY-_OY0t5CZd6cFr6jb7ZzTOGIXPm7zdc3zRxrvHzcBkvIFY2dJd_VdehjWI3LmzU/s400/_MG_1132.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297936950833277634" /></a>Alfonso Jaramillohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140238896039253040noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4406649515411669066.post-65723128211698477362009-01-24T10:58:00.000-08:002009-01-24T11:00:24.267-08:00Canto telúricoRotundo insómnico de caracter cósmico<br />Hoy celebro tus 4,550,000,000 de años<br />Testigo del universo<br />Superviviente de catastróficos meteoritas<br />Tu cauce salino mi vida sustenta<br />Yo a cambio te traigo calumnia y tormenta<br />Tus manos ecuatoriales<br />Tus ojos polares<br />Rugoso sibarita de tantos andares<br />¿Que me dirias si hablares?Alfonso Jaramillohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140238896039253040noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4406649515411669066.post-6944613864688694012008-12-04T10:05:00.000-08:002008-12-04T10:11:59.578-08:00Form studies with mouth and rubber bands<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPsSXyVrQApjWk8_apaVav0XcRVAlPaRf1Tm1D3QNYDgcr0eDHJ8cXLllBMTY35US59UVUs7CIzy4HorfVWZae4zXtr4SCo4GcOM5p84L53GsMdfVp1rOjWACpgYgPfmrEL4JhWIXcryg/s1600-h/4+mouths-2.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 364px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPsSXyVrQApjWk8_apaVav0XcRVAlPaRf1Tm1D3QNYDgcr0eDHJ8cXLllBMTY35US59UVUs7CIzy4HorfVWZae4zXtr4SCo4GcOM5p84L53GsMdfVp1rOjWACpgYgPfmrEL4JhWIXcryg/s400/4+mouths-2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275998230242049522" /></a><br /></break><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirUOOa4PenFAvYfl8SFCG-lVk7AobqBYSbeKmxaqdaLt5or3KvQMz5sVlSjl-2xCDPWfkHt_RJC5q7zYdphw4l7ZlJN1P4cN8C8Em4bEyjbbR-o1azYdDGE11Al6Lh2L8WaGMRJDzfh-4/s1600-h/3+mouths.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 364px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirUOOa4PenFAvYfl8SFCG-lVk7AobqBYSbeKmxaqdaLt5or3KvQMz5sVlSjl-2xCDPWfkHt_RJC5q7zYdphw4l7ZlJN1P4cN8C8Em4bEyjbbR-o1azYdDGE11Al6Lh2L8WaGMRJDzfh-4/s400/3+mouths.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275998223787336770" /></a><br /></break><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikp7-yJTCxuaop-zg9gXeo2hey9hE5zJarRdXpE7WwfDtpPfPUfanDpuOVvdSTdUN0KMNk0iV-g27q6g116tjFb6V6mYgXANAwxLsRNg_9U45yYC1nCd632nrE3TjfvfT_rD2wA2QQlww/s1600-h/mouth+study.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 364px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikp7-yJTCxuaop-zg9gXeo2hey9hE5zJarRdXpE7WwfDtpPfPUfanDpuOVvdSTdUN0KMNk0iV-g27q6g116tjFb6V6mYgXANAwxLsRNg_9U45yYC1nCd632nrE3TjfvfT_rD2wA2QQlww/s400/mouth+study.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275998237645078130" /></a>Alfonso Jaramillohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140238896039253040noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4406649515411669066.post-11467363640225093202008-12-02T16:22:00.000-08:002008-12-02T16:30:00.052-08:00Taxonomy<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWBw39FK-dROfew64582MpBvyB2gXNdzwQhd-s-s5Rxd3b1Fi-yYkYl87sjrYYEWEnytAyLpZYaRsaryEZkCKgxMm6njeijmTqoLSZFpqZDTTKZTUOTFmJb_jvlIvtYog1wRlMviv4Acg/s1600-h/taxonomy.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWBw39FK-dROfew64582MpBvyB2gXNdzwQhd-s-s5Rxd3b1Fi-yYkYl87sjrYYEWEnytAyLpZYaRsaryEZkCKgxMm6njeijmTqoLSZFpqZDTTKZTUOTFmJb_jvlIvtYog1wRlMviv4Acg/s400/taxonomy.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275353126768834770" /></a><br />Hair sculptures, finger paint.Alfonso Jaramillohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140238896039253040noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4406649515411669066.post-78930488368971109512008-11-28T12:38:00.000-08:002008-11-28T12:40:03.085-08:00Declaration of the first National Thanksgiving Day on Nov.1, 1777The Continental Congress of the United States declared the first national day of thanksgiving on November 1, 1777, to celebrate an American victory over British general John Burgoyne. There is not a single reference to Native Americans in that declaration; it's rather about setting aside a day to praise the Divine Benefactor in hopes of gaining His favor in the war against the British. ..The language is pinnacle Puritan, too.... check it out:<br /><ul><br /><li>"Forasmuch as it is the indispensable Duty of all Men to adore the superintending providence of Almighty God; to acknowledge with Gratitude their Obligation to him for benefits received, and to implore such further Blessings as they stand in Need of: And it having pleased him in his abundant Mercy, not only to continue to us the innumerable Bounties of his common providence; but also to smile upon us in the Prosecution of a just and necessary War, for the Defence and Establishment of our inalienable Rights and Liberties... It is therefore recommended to the legislative or executive Powers of these UNITED STATES, to set apart THURSDAY, the eighteenth Day of December next, for the Solemn Thanksgiving and Praise: That at one Time and with one voice, the good People may express themselves to the Service of their Divine Benefactor."</li><br /></ul>Alfonso Jaramillohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140238896039253040noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4406649515411669066.post-45220222731294591582008-08-28T12:45:00.001-07:002008-08-28T12:47:07.176-07:00Truth 911<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBWiqc-sZCVlcNp-P9V4r9MehkD_rQpJpoliNvoXo2z5nyVxGKZMZTrA2JuMe0pqb2OBpPklkVbTMpcDV2nYn8FrUcDIyiCIPXcRQRG7ktl5pylZIlkKkbCCxek8WNkEB3liIzRYWpnWM/s1600-h/exhibit-911.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBWiqc-sZCVlcNp-P9V4r9MehkD_rQpJpoliNvoXo2z5nyVxGKZMZTrA2JuMe0pqb2OBpPklkVbTMpcDV2nYn8FrUcDIyiCIPXcRQRG7ktl5pylZIlkKkbCCxek8WNkEB3liIzRYWpnWM/s400/exhibit-911.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5239657187823726162" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Reconstructing the Empire's memory / Reconstruyendo la memoria del Imperio</span><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Two evenings of art, words, and music commenting on the connections between the two 911s in the making of the Empire.</span><br /><br /><br />Thursday<br />September 11: 7pm - 11pm<br />Opening Reception<br /><br />Saturday<br />September 13: 7pm - 2am<br />Closing party with Los Materos,<br />Kakolactico, dj Sakate1, dj Kaya<br /><br />Workspace Limited<br />2150 Folsom Street<br />San Francisco<br /><br />Participating Artists | Monica Alvarez • Carlos Bazua • Daniel Camacho • Tania Figueroa • Jose Antonio Galloso • Aleixo Goncalvez • Axel Herrera • Ivan Herrera • Alfonso Jaramillo • Alvaro Lagos • Roberto Leni • Ariel Lopez • Yael Martinez • Dennis Maxwell • Kako Peña • Pescador • Maria Loreto Ramirez • Jairo Rodriguez • Hector Salgado • Fernando Torres • Ester Vines<br /><br />911 Squared Collective | As Chilean artists living in the United States, we keep the experience of the September 11, 1973 coup d'etat in Chile and the September 11, 2001 attack on the World Trade Center close to our hearts. Through our art, we denounce the global corrosion of civil liberties under a world wide US-Led military-corporate empire and bring attention to the historical significance and connections between the two nine elevens. As a collective of concerned artists, writers, and musicians, we honor and support the social movements that struggle against tyranny around the world and work toward a more socially equitable and sustainable future.<br /><br />For more information: 911squared.blogspot.comAlfonso Jaramillohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140238896039253040noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4406649515411669066.post-4311950216512538802008-05-27T01:34:00.000-07:002008-12-12T21:59:01.675-08:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio3qnWNsj95LkozNCs5Lsg7CCcWAgIA_rahaP-VeeUoaA9f7UdXlr63cgyrj_01SgLZy-Q-QTlKxWpJ0aenG3yTfH07NOTAz8_l4Qy8Vl8XBUxmtfdoCxqSFTusxwWNChohLoMdtOFjmM/s1600-h/_MG_9699.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio3qnWNsj95LkozNCs5Lsg7CCcWAgIA_rahaP-VeeUoaA9f7UdXlr63cgyrj_01SgLZy-Q-QTlKxWpJ0aenG3yTfH07NOTAz8_l4Qy8Vl8XBUxmtfdoCxqSFTusxwWNChohLoMdtOFjmM/s400/_MG_9699.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5204973701954155602" /></a>Alfonso Jaramillohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140238896039253040noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4406649515411669066.post-26709368091516968392008-04-29T16:59:00.000-07:002008-05-27T01:48:45.324-07:00Encontré al xilofonero<object width="425" height="355"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/1-V6OZdvygo&hl=en"></param><param name="wmode" value="transparent"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/1-V6OZdvygo&hl=en" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"></embed></object><br /><br />Algo que encontré en Youtube, King Crimson en 1972.Alfonso Jaramillohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140238896039253040noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4406649515411669066.post-30372704996646078072008-04-23T11:26:00.000-07:002008-12-12T21:59:03.083-08:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPLc23gjIN3L4C6OPDbcK3Xkef-p7VL5w7FqzyqvZDFD109nrFGAQRec6hwWG0IpdFwLWyzMWe3rlaolCrAIbxY3z47XCTalXs5wxdWalvJra5Gg-cGBzZ5BQkszQkpgZucRmlMc9pGsw/s1600-h/tomatosalad.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPLc23gjIN3L4C6OPDbcK3Xkef-p7VL5w7FqzyqvZDFD109nrFGAQRec6hwWG0IpdFwLWyzMWe3rlaolCrAIbxY3z47XCTalXs5wxdWalvJra5Gg-cGBzZ5BQkszQkpgZucRmlMc9pGsw/s400/tomatosalad.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5192509399438999026" /></a><br />Ensalada de tomate con espinacas.Alfonso Jaramillohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140238896039253040noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4406649515411669066.post-12000668912112169642008-04-21T17:51:00.001-07:002008-12-12T21:59:03.296-08:00El marimbero<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK7qVUq54gbCG8J9tx5uBWcP-GV1tB_cMhqdWbWL6Owm9JvYARzbkwiLgBAuS5t6U45DKPIMVz55dgMROqQVnR9Ud2GxSW956YirLuTkQ88OHm2-qU-OSx2mnKxf_MerNHfSOQi1UfMXg/s1600-h/sp-w-textile2.png"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK7qVUq54gbCG8J9tx5uBWcP-GV1tB_cMhqdWbWL6Owm9JvYARzbkwiLgBAuS5t6U45DKPIMVz55dgMROqQVnR9Ud2GxSW956YirLuTkQ88OHm2-qU-OSx2mnKxf_MerNHfSOQi1UfMXg/s400/sp-w-textile2.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5191933757857217986" /></a><br /><br />Espanto espíritus sagrados <br />prendo incendios milenarios<br />viento sordo llevo adentro <br />de altiplano huracanado<br /><br />Sikuris y tamboreros<br />vieron retumbar la tierra<br />shamanes y jaraneros <br />acudieron a ella<br /><br />Con comparsa y batucada <br />levantaron ya mi cuerpo<br />a rajatabla los ramales<br />retoñaron por dentro<br /><br />Solicito jaranero jijopero tamborilero <br />xilofonero para mi rumba<br /><br />Marimbero de tus destierros <br />canta tus anhelos nombra tu rumba<br /><br />Marimbero de tus destierros<br />xilofonero para mi rumba<br /><br />Solo pétalos de hierro <br />ponen fin a tu tormento<br />Una sola melodia <br />acompaña ese lamento<br /><br><br /><em>Dedicado al Colectivo 911. <br />Grácias chikillos por todo su apoyo. —Poncho</em>Alfonso Jaramillohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140238896039253040noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4406649515411669066.post-56164849356936618042008-04-13T19:30:00.001-07:002008-04-13T19:38:36.663-07:00Los Materos, Renace mi sueño<a href="http://myspacetv.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=vids.individual&videoid=32323598">Video by Ariel Lopez</a><br><embed src="http://lads.myspace.com/videos/vplayer.swf" flashvars="m=32323598&v=2&type=video" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="430" height="346"></embed>Alfonso Jaramillohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140238896039253040noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4406649515411669066.post-83203821797167339122008-04-09T07:47:00.000-07:002008-12-12T21:59:03.435-08:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRxDExXI7bep_0GVmnxEaY32URgKXX45GQ0ixihfSJ_nHcmsioupO6ijhSg4rUgpLYwoTVnvpTVV_742EBFkdq8dC1GX4byE1JuvhADy_-cx5UaOD7hSJpDMy49fz10qqp0K7iowsOfoY/s1600-h/self+portrait+with+textile.png"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRxDExXI7bep_0GVmnxEaY32URgKXX45GQ0ixihfSJ_nHcmsioupO6ijhSg4rUgpLYwoTVnvpTVV_742EBFkdq8dC1GX4byE1JuvhADy_-cx5UaOD7hSJpDMy49fz10qqp0K7iowsOfoY/s400/self+portrait+with+textile.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5191935334110215650" /></a>Alfonso Jaramillohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140238896039253040noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4406649515411669066.post-4652166087233080802008-03-17T23:52:00.000-07:002008-12-12T21:59:03.604-08:00Que el fin del mundo te pille bailando<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbYe4s0wdv2YHVxATtN4q2FuWNbxGx1YqUQ31HHWV7E0NME3TCwQYt-OdFvXNW4ChAT1ZWroyNthSEjuiz8GwesE7dZVK78nZkjFgrOexD0_bfsGI1XRSOfj_FkzcQ_hBIqYSsxEHlh8c/s1600-h/losmateros-3-21.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbYe4s0wdv2YHVxATtN4q2FuWNbxGx1YqUQ31HHWV7E0NME3TCwQYt-OdFvXNW4ChAT1ZWroyNthSEjuiz8GwesE7dZVK78nZkjFgrOexD0_bfsGI1XRSOfj_FkzcQ_hBIqYSsxEHlh8c/s400/losmateros-3-21.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5178971638424172706" /></a><br /><em>Que el fin del mundo te pille bailando<br />—Joaquin Sabina</em><br /><br /><a href='http://www.lapena.org/event/746'><H3>Los Materos and Los Nadies in concert!<br />Friday March 21, 2008<br />La Peña Cultural Center<br />3105 Shattuck Avenue, Berkeley, 510-849-2568</H3></a><br /><br />A fabulous evening of post-folk Latin American fusion.<br /><br />Welcome the spring with socially conscious post folk Latin American fusion with Los Materos and Los Nadies. Los Materos return to La Peña for a fabulous evening of original, aware, and irreverent music, fusing elements of Latin American folklore, Andean, Caribbean, and funky roots. With Maria Loreto Ramirez, Axel Herrera, Poncho Jaramillo, Jairo Rodriquez, Alberto Zurita and special guests Evelio Roque and Natalya Zaytseva. Bay Area favorites Los Nadies' unique blend of rock, nueva trova, and South American folklore brings a keen mix of politics, poetry, and street party to the mix. Don't miss this unique show! After party with DJ Sákate 1 in the lobby.Alfonso Jaramillohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140238896039253040noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4406649515411669066.post-75036167906057166442008-02-29T14:52:00.001-08:002008-12-12T21:59:03.840-08:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw68eZrVmcnwTE7vROLSQOfYwGc0i-qWLB5CcFaEp_0SKBkORhwN4s2mLnHiPH6k8lHMKAEfJQLDbB_MBgahqGRpCXGtzI2f7NN4QKb-NsVTsC4zZgOwogfjVuFOc5_fY8V6SWhRV_LYQ/s1600-h/IMG_1344.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw68eZrVmcnwTE7vROLSQOfYwGc0i-qWLB5CcFaEp_0SKBkORhwN4s2mLnHiPH6k8lHMKAEfJQLDbB_MBgahqGRpCXGtzI2f7NN4QKb-NsVTsC4zZgOwogfjVuFOc5_fY8V6SWhRV_LYQ/s400/IMG_1344.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5172538938241045170" /></a><br /><em>"All you have to do is write one true sentence. Write the truest sentence that you know."<br />—Ernest Hemingway</em><br /><br />Todo desierto tiene sus flores.Alfonso Jaramillohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140238896039253040noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4406649515411669066.post-66657921152324440412008-02-23T01:41:00.000-08:002008-12-12T21:59:04.240-08:00Desperté en el fondo del mar<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyjf62PQi7MsODjS-GgLkApEoLlizA0s95KN5rsLY_UVpi0m88omWpeY3R1uwe0GyP0bWqqdfA7U82FxfV3I3eV3lcejjnoRI3pPaoep9IeHAwAa-Z6iyGC3i60-2DMOpVuLK10FY2Ejc/s1600-h/desperteenelfondodelmar.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyjf62PQi7MsODjS-GgLkApEoLlizA0s95KN5rsLY_UVpi0m88omWpeY3R1uwe0GyP0bWqqdfA7U82FxfV3I3eV3lcejjnoRI3pPaoep9IeHAwAa-Z6iyGC3i60-2DMOpVuLK10FY2Ejc/s400/desperteenelfondodelmar.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5170131794066850434" /></a>Alfonso Jaramillohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140238896039253040noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4406649515411669066.post-8376433858469759292008-02-06T11:41:00.000-08:002008-12-12T21:59:05.250-08:00Debut del grupo Pacharcachas en lanzamiento de libro de Galloso y Pescador en San Francisco<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyG3HmXQ1WMidjAygAUinxwvuLlbEDf88UCk4kU8-VL_GTjNXsV_B6gOe6hPwp_YUXgyy6m8f6ZbcmdWEg1o8RClqeDg8N4_UJhGO0dgob16LUiF3pqOZzVcCGj8GEs4DWgXtLJK2n79g/s1600-h/DSC_7032.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyG3HmXQ1WMidjAygAUinxwvuLlbEDf88UCk4kU8-VL_GTjNXsV_B6gOe6hPwp_YUXgyy6m8f6ZbcmdWEg1o8RClqeDg8N4_UJhGO0dgob16LUiF3pqOZzVcCGj8GEs4DWgXtLJK2n79g/s400/DSC_7032.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5163955218582717490" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicaOJf8ctaG7bUN-xQloYyNKPbi3dC_wNiZdg-A3H08sEauoduWertU_oX-q1G90Pfx84aULed3-U5c-kRIHmwPfSIPeaTcCjHcMfJ5mMQH4hME6gPJf5BFXh1paPYrgJ3cTn0xpj7P2o/s1600-h/DSC_7030.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicaOJf8ctaG7bUN-xQloYyNKPbi3dC_wNiZdg-A3H08sEauoduWertU_oX-q1G90Pfx84aULed3-U5c-kRIHmwPfSIPeaTcCjHcMfJ5mMQH4hME6gPJf5BFXh1paPYrgJ3cTn0xpj7P2o/s400/DSC_7030.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5163955222877684802" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhSb03PczNxnre57a_pd2gR3cJs-AkcaleVVkgJpplbONuNiXpyEx0eL1p9zMNlYzbKYVr_6e4xjAWdGXd_410mUVGGF1vv9eJ5lawpEXIr4beZ-au19rocbRyrx63rosEwLjEumVq5uY/s1600-h/DSC_7031.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhSb03PczNxnre57a_pd2gR3cJs-AkcaleVVkgJpplbONuNiXpyEx0eL1p9zMNlYzbKYVr_6e4xjAWdGXd_410mUVGGF1vv9eJ5lawpEXIr4beZ-au19rocbRyrx63rosEwLjEumVq5uY/s320/DSC_7031.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5163955995971798114" /></a>El miercoles 23 de Enero a las 6:00 pm, en el auditorio Koret de la Biblioteca Central de San Francisco, se presentó el libro experimental "Libro de la sombra o Recortes de la Memoria", hecho a cuatro manos por el poeta Jose Antonio Galloso (Peru) y el artista Visual "Pescador" (Franz Fischer, Chile). Fue publicado en el Perú por Bizarro Ediciones en abril del 2007. Ademas con la participacion debut del grupo experimental Pacharcachas con el sabor fusion latinoamericana, jazz, dub-reggae, folk funk andino. Pacharcachas son: Jairo Rodriguez, Poncho Jaramillo, Axel Herrera, Alberto Zurita, The Genie, y Carlos "Kakolactiko" Peña. <em>Fuente: Pescador. Fotos: Karen Burboa</em>Alfonso Jaramillohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140238896039253040noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4406649515411669066.post-46716039544127464092008-02-02T01:22:00.000-08:002008-12-12T21:59:05.537-08:00Contratiempo<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEPlZgiPLc12QAHoz0pMB8oXeep836c787JCn9Cmfn_vSUmx8GmhlNd0F0lQma-vPrDzTyGS_k46lAkNc52pyhmBD8Y3rDTaMlrk62Iud3Hcf1PqXWtHy9B9JIdHdEvA-3QEQLllmauTk/s1600-h/otro-tiempo.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEPlZgiPLc12QAHoz0pMB8oXeep836c787JCn9Cmfn_vSUmx8GmhlNd0F0lQma-vPrDzTyGS_k46lAkNc52pyhmBD8Y3rDTaMlrk62Iud3Hcf1PqXWtHy9B9JIdHdEvA-3QEQLllmauTk/s400/otro-tiempo.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5162304224564200450" /></a><br /><em>Sé impecable con tus palabras.</em><br />—Dr. Miguel Ruiz<br /><br />Hace tiempo que pido a la luna<br />tiempo para hablar con el tiempo <br />fundamentos<br />Yo no se de donde saqué fuerzas<br />¿Cuanto amor aguanta la violencia?<br />Solo se que cuando ya era tarde <br />se acabó el tiempo<br /><br />Viene otro tiempo este tiempo se va<br /><br />Hace tiempo camino desnudo<br />perdido en el sol bajo la lluvia <br />del infinito<br />Soñando entre sueños de equilibrio<br />que no importa lo que diga el tiempo<br />todo se define en un instante<br />de infinito<br />Dejate llevar por el tiempo<br />Siente que en tu voz esta tu fuerza<br />bañate de sal, vive en la luna<br />Si tienes tiempoAlfonso Jaramillohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140238896039253040noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4406649515411669066.post-35972847279119204032008-01-26T18:44:00.000-08:002008-12-12T21:59:05.819-08:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR3ekES6LP5-pzEp3g-CIZ3_ze-Dgj01XJPluGaxCOAuVaAhYniQwpBGF5CUffQeApE-5g6tBVY1mKZFxU9gs4lREMvXnwktEIftuo585lkv0LSXZKXgwhsHJalu8vycnpo4mtDDT9C3o/s1600-h/vs-artifice-slide.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR3ekES6LP5-pzEp3g-CIZ3_ze-Dgj01XJPluGaxCOAuVaAhYniQwpBGF5CUffQeApE-5g6tBVY1mKZFxU9gs4lREMvXnwktEIftuo585lkv0LSXZKXgwhsHJalu8vycnpo4mtDDT9C3o/s400/vs-artifice-slide.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5159989537839367138" /></a><br /><br />Por mucho tiempo tuve conmigo esta diapositiva de sangre colgada en la pared. Me maravillava su contenido: glóbulos rojos que transportan oxigeno al cuerpo, glóbulos blancos que devoran todo lo que encuentran en su camino, y un reparto estelar de bacterias, virus, y otros inquilinos que fluyen dentro de ella, devorandose los unos a los otros sin contar siquiera con conciencia para empezar a tomar responsabilidad por sus acciones. Durante una mudanza terminó en un vasito de plástico con alfileres y fue entonces que tomé esta foto. Es sangre sin corazón: Inmune solo a si misma, incapaz de detenerse, ajena a la verguenza. Me pregunto... ¿Porque un ser humano le puede hacer tanto daño a otro ser, porque explotamos las vulnerabilidades de los otros para el beneficio propio, porque siempre tenemos que tomar ventaja de las situaciones sin importar las consequencias mas alla de las que afectan a uno mismo. ¿Será que lo llevamos en la sangre?Alfonso Jaramillohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140238896039253040noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4406649515411669066.post-19429320923406233702008-01-19T11:49:00.000-08:002008-12-12T21:59:06.027-08:00Consejos para escribir una canción<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn1I-s1_15f1WVzo9Hsfv0ujm-MuPrX9tcNMKSqoMogEk0nc47F2U_DbGIzkBew9Ae8HgmkvMIfv9VWwCkbBLrm4XdXHTctdrVuN0xKRPtAHP6VOmgahxEw2mQKCSluYFfq3amiMqkH2w/s1600-h/Photo+932.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn1I-s1_15f1WVzo9Hsfv0ujm-MuPrX9tcNMKSqoMogEk0nc47F2U_DbGIzkBew9Ae8HgmkvMIfv9VWwCkbBLrm4XdXHTctdrVuN0xKRPtAHP6VOmgahxEw2mQKCSluYFfq3amiMqkH2w/s400/Photo+932.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5157240416761662018" /></a><br /><em>Approach love and cooking with reckless abandon.<br />Ama y cocina con absoluto derroche.</em><br />—H.H. the 14th Dalai Lama<br /><br />Vive<br />Antes que nada para escribir una cancion hay que vivir. Esto es absolutamente imprescindible; menos mal que la vida es una condición común en la tierra y, seguramente, en el universo. Se habla de que el origen de la vida se encuentra en volcanes submarinos que crean y sustentan nuevos ecosistemas de bacterias, plantas, y animales. Aqui empieza la vida, en el lugar mas inhospito de la tierra; no en un paraiso, ni siquiera en un pantano. Es en el fondo del mar donde nunca ha llegado la luz del sol donde la vida busca la forma de brotar y florecer y aprovecha la mas mínima fuente de energia para hacerlo con elegante exuberancia.<br /><br />Rie<br />El humor surge de lo absurdo, lo incomprensible. Lo chistoso es lo mas terrible que le podria pasar a uno cuando le pasa a otro. Reimos cuando podemos tomar una perspectiva externa al sujeto del chiste, por eso muchos chistes consisten en reforzar estereotipos sociales de lo que es vulgar, inmoral, o simplemente contrario a los valores de la cultura dominante en el contexto en el que se cuenta el chiste, poniendolo en oposición a los gallegos, las monjas, homosexuales, argentinos, pericos, piratas, o lo que sea de lo que se trata el chiste. Aun asi, los chistes mas chistosos son los que cuentan algo con lo que uno se identifica. Si se rie para no llorar, no deberia haber mejor risa que la del que se siente señalado por la contradicción que expresa el chiste. También se rie, o mas bien se sonrie, cuando podemos sentir empatía por alguien que esta sufriendo. Muchas veces me he preguntado porque la palabra 'patético' tiene tan mala conotación si algo patético es algo que nos causa sentimiento al lograr ver desde la perspectiva de otro. <br /><br />Sufre<br />La vida, si bien es abundante, también es imperfecta. La evolución funciona en base a errores de reproduccion del ADN. La mas minima ventaja evolutiva que una mutación genetica tenga sobre un individuo puede cambiar a toda una especie, eventualmente incluso a todo un ecosistema o un planeta, todo en base a un error. Si todo lo que existe vino de una gran explosión de antimateria, no deberia sorprendernos que la vida este llena de sorpeasas dolorosas. Estas no son necesario buscarlas; basta con cumplir con la primera condición, vivir, para encontrarlas por todas partes. Abre los ojos al sufrimiento ajeno y verás como tu propio sufrimiento te lleva a la empatía. Cierra los ojos al sufrimiento ajeno y tu propio sufrimiento te llevará a un infierno. De cualquier manera, aprovecha el dolor para crear desde una perspectiva que, ojala, te saque de lo común, de lo cotidiano. No esperes sentirte bien para hacer algo.<br /><br />Juega<br />Te acuerdas de esto; no es lo mismo que trabajar. Es una liberación de tu mente que se la pasa inmersa en cálculos economicos, miles de cálculos economicos que hacemos todos los dias, desde que vamos a comer, como nos desplazamos por el tiempo y el espacio, hasta como nos vemos. Si te ganas la vida trabajando, corres el riesgo de reducir cada acción, cada movimiento a un cálculo economico. Las acciones laborales se calculan por hora, como un auto de carreras que corre a tantos kilometros por hora. Para aprender a jugar solo tenemos que recordar que el tiempo no es dinero, que eso lo inventó alguien que no sabia jugar. Claro, sobre todo a los adultos, nos cuesta jugar porque pensamos que esto consiste en peinar muñecas o subirse a un arbol, cosas que la mayoria de nosotros no queremos hacer. Jugar es liberar tu mente de tu rutina, de tu profesión, de tus pasatiempos incluso, ya que cuando nos hacemos muy expertos en algo, aunque sea un pasatiempo, tendemos a jugar menos. Por eso para jugar hay que buscar cosas nuevas y cultivar nuestra capacidad de asombro ante la vida. <br /><br />Escribe<br />Uno de mis grandes amigos tenia dos frases celebres que seguramente no son de su autoria "You gotta do what you gotta do" y "If you want to hit a homerun, you gotta swing at the ball". Básicos pero muy ciertos y sabios consejos los dos. Cuantas veces dejamos de hacer cosas porque pensamos que no las sabemos hacer bien, nos vamos de la cancha lejos de la jugada y desde ahi queremos pegarle a las pelotas. Las obras maestras no se les 'ocurre' a nadie, no brotan espontaneamente, son producto de muchisimo trabajo, de una producción constante, una práctica constante. Picasso borraba cuadros en las noches que volvia a pintar al dia siguiente para mantener una práctica diaria de pintar, aun si escaseaban los materiales. La cosa es hacerlo, si es posible, todos los dias, y no esperar tener una idea brillante antes de ponerse a escribir.<br /><br />Duchate<br />Todo el mundo conoce el efecto terapéutico que ducharse tiene sobre el componente lírico del ser creativo. Si te gusta cantar en la ducha, duchate y prueba tus melodias, jabón en mano, bajo la lluvia inspradora de la ducha. Deja que tus palabras se conviertan en harmonias de vapor y agua, que las gotas sobre tu piel sean tus aplausos, los envases de shampoo tu público, y tu cuerpo desnudo e indefenso, tu único testigo.Alfonso Jaramillohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140238896039253040noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4406649515411669066.post-46692542342586924462008-01-19T09:02:00.000-08:002008-12-12T21:59:06.603-08:00Sebastián: autoretratos<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwQ_IQjSx_cpiIiQixqR4XGfUg5Eqi1LUPztpfYUTxwEg1JDrp8CGnOYFYLCT_PZb_nXQnyziiQhxYpuzdTR1mszP0PywhPiNr8SED4TdaEnp8TqxgyA90tCZoElRWkkFIBxGhDe6mBTY/s1600-h/Photo+824.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwQ_IQjSx_cpiIiQixqR4XGfUg5Eqi1LUPztpfYUTxwEg1JDrp8CGnOYFYLCT_PZb_nXQnyziiQhxYpuzdTR1mszP0PywhPiNr8SED4TdaEnp8TqxgyA90tCZoElRWkkFIBxGhDe6mBTY/s400/Photo+824.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5157391432106756722" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq2Rnpsr8bOCoR4ay7VqI1mBKvOHhEXbAjxWZfIz3bFxWvjQQvdgPWQIuoeRObafGJGB_YAvVoR3dyqV8e-6P-7eUWIqWsNIG291lXYvxrDaj4i9frpddFW9_WehK07YSQ1Bpw5hYPaL8/s1600-h/Photo+648.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq2Rnpsr8bOCoR4ay7VqI1mBKvOHhEXbAjxWZfIz3bFxWvjQQvdgPWQIuoeRObafGJGB_YAvVoR3dyqV8e-6P-7eUWIqWsNIG291lXYvxrDaj4i9frpddFW9_WehK07YSQ1Bpw5hYPaL8/s400/Photo+648.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5157391436401724034" /></a>Alfonso Jaramillohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140238896039253040noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4406649515411669066.post-89337619801395330312008-01-10T10:32:00.000-08:002008-12-12T21:59:06.913-08:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRifaxqqiHtSkqUUTKCZixsFuDQf7edp6N7gbPJA3ZGC1PxlnmVbs9n3-unKHSk4HSo9AQrHJYYDMTrpehLaULc7RZsQjhkZHsYrTIoO4Y8UsNGTMbczpR4ajctHN9_O2nsf7jK2QntZA/s1600-h/atomize.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRifaxqqiHtSkqUUTKCZixsFuDQf7edp6N7gbPJA3ZGC1PxlnmVbs9n3-unKHSk4HSo9AQrHJYYDMTrpehLaULc7RZsQjhkZHsYrTIoO4Y8UsNGTMbczpR4ajctHN9_O2nsf7jK2QntZA/s400/atomize.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5153917911665855026" /></a>Alfonso Jaramillohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140238896039253040noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4406649515411669066.post-30321781664286068062008-01-10T09:43:00.000-08:002008-01-13T16:05:11.395-08:00Alambra tu pielEsta ya tiene sus añitos pero también es resultado de uno de esos momentos de melancolia que nos son tan necesarios para la creatividad. Le dimos otra vida con los materos y la vamos a estrenar este fin de semana junto con otras dos que estan en este blog: La chica metralleta y La matraca de carrizo. La historia viene de un amor, obviamente, que me dejó ademas de un corazón roto, la mandibula fracturada bajo la mano de un dentista carnicero en Chiapas. Pasé seis semanas con la mandibula inmovilizada por alambres sin poder comer nada sólido y aprendiendo a comunicarme como lo hacen los ventriloqüos, sin abrir la boca. Esto pasó hace mas de diez años y todavia me acuerdo que fué una experiencia que me dió mucha fuerza y me hizo tomar conciencia de mi interior: las diferencias entre el mundo interior y el exterior son mucho mas obvias cuando no puedes abrir la boca.<br /><br />Alambra tu piel<br />No me mires, no te desnudes<br />Trae un compás para marcar tu posición<br />Que a véces sigues arrullada en mi vóz<br /><br />¿Y que pasó con tu mirada?<br />¿Y que va a ser de tí sin mi?<br />Tus ojos no me dicen nada<br />Yo nunca supe que sentir<br /><br />Alambra su piel<br />Sueña que me lo dijo todo la última vezAlfonso Jaramillohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140238896039253040noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4406649515411669066.post-16524383926392588252008-01-04T10:50:00.000-08:002008-02-29T15:10:50.501-08:00La mujer y la muerteEsta canción salió de un borrador que escribi esta mañana. Toma la perspectiva de una mujer pero en realidad es autoreferente. La muerte representa la represion de las ideas, pero la mujer, que es poeta, le contesta que anque se muera eventualmente lo que creamos en la vida es lo que cuenta y nos supersede. La historia esta inspirada en la tradición de las payas, o sea un duelo improvisado entre dos poetas en el que uno pregunta y el otro contesta en versos de ocho silabas. Me imaginé un duelo asi entre esta mujer y la muerte. La mujer, que obviamente sobrevivió el duelo, cuenta la historia desde su perspectiva en la canción. Tiene la forma de cuartetas con estructura octosilabica; una referencia al folklor universal. Hay varias referenecias al folklor chileno también. Por ejemplo, el tormento es un instrumento de percusión hecho de tapitas de botella que se usa para acompañar instrumentos de cuerdas en el campo de Chile. El lamento también se refiere a una forma musical. El párrafo final de tres lineas de 16 silabas es el clásico fraseo final de la cueca. En fin ahî va...<br /><br />Vino la muerte un dia a tocar sobre mi puerta<br />Me encontró en la camita, soñando pero despierta<br />Me tiró un par de cortes con su hazadón de tormento<br />Y yo que tenia guitarra le contesté en un lamento<br /><br />Porque yo no creo en na', a mi nada me hace mal<br />No me entran ni las balas ni las lecciones ni na'<br />A mi no me haz de llevar, deja ya de merodear<br />Mientras siga yo cantando no me vas a atrapar<br /><br />Me comentó entre tajadas que ella no tenia moral<br />Que cuando la hora llegaba, ella solo hacia mortal<br />Que la orden que cumplia venia de mas arriba<br />De donde los otros dioses conceden penas y heridas<br /><br />Como no le va a importar, lo que tenga que decir<br />Por lo menos deme audiencia para poder presumir<br />Con mas de uno me topé que me quizo condenar<br />y siempre pude yo solita sabermelas jugar<br /><br />Tu no me vas a llevar adonde no quiero ir<br />porque pueden los que cantan saber cuando partir<br />Y si me logras pillar, yo no te voy a arrancar<br />Y quedarán mis canciones y mis versos pa' bailar<br /><br />La muerte no pudo llevarme pero me dejó herida<br />Se fué a hacer otros quehaceres que la tenian afligida<br />Se cuenta que ya no hay caso de hacer callar al que opinaAlfonso Jaramillohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12140238896039253040noreply@blogger.com0