One-eyed Wisdom
Here & Now, Art, SPD, Susan Schultz, Tabios and Stammer, Mai Ryuno, Pablo Helguera, Sarah-Jane Crowson, Jacob Geller, Matthew Muñoz, Jennie Gyllblad, Jimi Hendrix, Melinda Coombs, and Art Garfunkel
We are approaching Spring now—or are we actually in Spring—based on the amount of pollen on the ground and the blooming jasmine? Part of me seems to be holding on to winter like a groundhog not ready to emerge from its hole. And a solar eclipse will happen next month, though not visible in these parts. It seems somehow appropriate; I seem to be saying “R. I. P.” far too often, lately. Friends, relatives, businesses—eclipsed. Let me just stay here in this hole for awhile.
My aging process has been one of constant disillusionment, a stripping away of faith in institutions, systems, paradigms, and stories I’ve been told (or told to myself) about how and why things happen or have to happen. This doesn’t mean that I don’t enjoy or find value in immersing myself in such stories and explanations; I still get caught up in the imaginings—whether critical, simplistic, speculative, or fantastic—that my brain manages to conjure after all these years. But I see the need of letting some things go, too.
In my 70s, what remains on my compass are love, kindness and decency (and the necessity of countering hate), pain and pleasure, the endless storytelling impulse of humans, the earth beneath my feet, and its denizens to which I am connected; the sky above, and the mystery of the unknown.
More on the Subanen and the Sambal tribes:
I’ve been learning more about the indigenous rituals that come out of my parents’ Philippine homelands and cultures. The information comes from academic, “popular,” and common-knowledge sources. I’m just sifting through it, and getting a feel for what resonates. Each area and peoples have their own traditions.
It occurred to me that my (soon to be seasonal) tiny art giveaways could be a small connection with the Subanen Buklog (although the latter happens every seven years), its healing and thanksgiving “sacrifices.” It’s giving away art as an act in and of community, rather than an act of “productivity” for individual benefit alone.
I’ve posted a Buklog video here previously, but have found that they are often made by governmental or non-governmental (NGO) organizations or corporate entities, all with their own reasons for creating such videos.1 While their media tends to have good production values, they often simplify or romanticize their subjects. I like dancer, choreographer, and videographer Rafa “Nonoy” Froilan’s 2007 six-episode series (set in Aurora, Zamboanga del Sur) for its attention to detail, including discussions about the revival of the Buklog in modern times, its significance to the community, the process of engaging community members, and all the numerous tasks involved in creating this event. See, for example, Episode 1:
In a previous issue I noted that the Sambal people are from my mother’s area of Zambales. In the 16th c. Boxer Codex, written originally in Spanish and Portuguese, (the link leads to a copy available in the Internet Archive—I love the images!), there is an image of a Sambal woman standing near a man with bow and arrow. The woman holds a raptor who seems to clutch a dead bird, suggesting that the tribe was involved with falconry. Who was the woman holding the raptor? What was her name? Did she, the raptor, and her bow-carrying partner work together as a hunting unit? Did they share the meat with the raptor?
“Sambal” or “Sambali” comes from the Malay word “Samba,” and was interpreted by European colonizers as meaning “to worship” or revere, i.e., a people who have strong superstitions. With an accent on the second syllable, it means a crossing or junction of two roads or rivers. ]
Among the Sambal and Ayta people, Apung Malyari, or mulayari (diwata of the moon) is an important deity. Mention of its gender seems to vary from one reference to another. Rev. Rolando Gomez Comon sees Malyari as representing balance, carrying both male and female energies. He believes that, among the Sambal, humans are more-or-less equal with their diwata (their gods are not held above or below).2 Apung Malyari’s home is Mt. Pinatubo, also known as Batung Mabye or “living stone” which is alive and spouts fire. Like the Western, Norse god Odin, Malyari is one-eyed, with multiple powers including wisdom, knowledge, healing, sorcery, prophecy, and more. The single eye suggests a wound, or incompleteness, but also oneness and knowledge. One eye is the full moon, seeing all in the dark.
Both Comon and Lakay (in the same video) make a distinction between how the gods of the Sambal are viewed from those in the West. In the West, they note, one gives an offering, and the spirit does the work, or bestows powers from above to humans below. In the Philippines, however, the diwata is seen as more of a mentor; you don’t ask them to manifest your ultimate desire. Instead, you ask to be taught the skills that allow you to manifest their own desires over time. Malyari’s teachings can manifest through dreams, thoughts, divination processes (tarot, etc.) or through signs from insects, animals, and plants in our surroundings.
ART
I’m continuing on an asemic streak. Here’s a small, quick one made with a tea bag. I’ve posted other asemics on Instagram and Pixelfed (the Fediverse alternative to IG):
I’m also still doing small bedtime (anti-scrolling) sketches:
RABBIT HOLE
R.I.P. Small Press Distribution (SPD), the stalwart supporter/distributor of independent publishing in Central California. They have carried my books and chapbooks, and have served hundreds of small presses over the decades. I and many others are sorry to see them go.
Susan Schultz’s I and Eucalyptus (Pamenar Press) offers a series of meditations about the trees near her house in Hawai’i. You can listen to her read from the book (with transcript) on the Pamenar Press website. I first encountered her work while I was caring for my mother in the final years before her death. Schultz’s book, Dementia Blog (Singing Horse Press) provided a painfully compassionate account of her experience of caring for her own mother, which she described as “oddly, horribly poetic.”
When I first started blogging, and daring to put my poems online, Eileen R. Tabios and Harry K. Stammer (along with a few other amazing poets) were there to ease my way into the world of experimental poetry, mainly by throwing me into the lake and watching me swim! Just kidding; actually it was great to have their company as we all thrashed around in the roiling waters of poetry. Check out their new books—Getting to One, an art and flash fiction collaboration by Tabios and Stammer, and Tabios’ collection of her own drawings and poems, Drawing the Six Directions (both from Sandy Press).
Local artist Mai Ryuno recently announced her new, rule-based art project—Kiwi Fruit—inspired by Yoko Ono’s “Grapefruit” and encouraged through an education project by Pablo Helguera. I’m curious to learn more. Thanks for this info, Mai! Here is Helguera’s Substack newsletter, Beautiful Eccentrics.
Sarah-Jane Crowson has her own story about disillusionment in her essay, “Collage as a Way to Question and Re-centre.” Check out her poetry and surreal collage art, too.
Jacob Geller’s one-hour YouTube video essay, Art for No One, focuses on art created for—you guessed it—no one. But is it still art? Under consideration: Michael Heiser’s “City” land art, Francisco Goya’s hidden art, the Nazca Lines, works by Aristotle Houfranis and Elena Helfrecht, Prince’s “unauthorized” recordings locked away in a vault, and Davey Wreden’s environmental narrative game, Beginners Guide:
Found on Mastodon:
Matthew Muñoz: See “Distillation,” a collaboration between Muñoz and Jeffrey F. Barken in the journal Monologging.
Jennie Gyllblad (JenJen@mastodon.art) does a better (and certainly more entertaining and slightly naughty) job than me of explaining why you might want to be an artist on Mastodon and introducing you to the Mastodon.art experience:
SOUNDINGS
I started out this section with all electronic sounds, but when Saturday came, the mood changed to acoustic:
A young Jimi Hendrix plays “Hear My Train A Comin’,”3 stops the recording (supposedly) about a minute in because “I was scared to death,“ and asks them if he can just do it “one more time.” Later, it cuts to another video of him feeling more confident playing “Hound Dog.”4 This reminds me of the 1960s when it was considered cutting edge and rebellious to perform or even listen to Black folk music and blues, as compared to the slick rock n’ roll or popular tunes that Black singers recorded in the 1950s :
Melinda Coombs plays “A Simple Song.” I couldn’t find much about her online, but I like her singing and guitar playing:
Art Garfunkel sings “April Come She Will.”5 Some singers get better when they’re old. Damn, this is so beautiful:
Another issue out before midnight!
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For example, a number of videos have been made by the Canadian firm, TVI (with the cooperation of the Philippine government), which has destroyed lands sacred to the Subanon in order to mine for gold, silver, and copper in the area. Twelve years ago, Subanon representatives appealed to the Philippine government, CERD, TVI, and finally even to the United Nations, all to no avail. (Closed captions (CC) on YouTube give a good translation of the talk in the link provided above). TVI is a Canadian company “focused on the acquisition and development of resource projects (mining of copper, gold, and silver) in the Asia Pacific region.”
Among many more diwata are Anitan Tawu (diwata of wind and rain—the one who gives us spirit), Akasi—the diwata of health and sickness, and Manglubar—diwata of peaceful living.
"Hear My Train A Comin’” written by Jimi Hendrix.
"Hound Dog” written by Jerry Leiber and Mike Stoller.
“April Come She Will” written by Paul Simon; composed by Paul Simon and Art Garfunkel.
The history is fascinating, Jean. I love it.