Art, Food, Life and Whatnot

HOME

charlie@charliegrosso.com (charliegrosso) — Sat, 27 Feb 2010 18:47:00 +0000

Home came to an end when I was 9 years old.
Home came to an end again a year and a half after.
I escaped home days after I turned 18.
Home has always been transient and mythical; constantly shape shifting and slipping out from my grasp. I cannot recount all the moments in which I have been lured into thinking that this place, this moment, YOU, is HOME. Then it shifts again and I am back in search of it. I have always felt that I am home in search of HOME, trying to find my way back to that mythical place once again.

We associate home with the trappings of Cable TV, Internet connection, running water, the first cup of coffee in your favorite mug, the smell of warmth lingering on your duvet and the bone crushing hug from someone who loves you. I have been shifting out of this mind set and trying to understand HOME is not a physical reference to a specific place but a state of mind, a boardening of the consciousness. Home is where I am. This has been a slow and difficult process.

Over 13 months ago I left a home that I had spent 6 years building with someone I loved. I have spent the entire year couch surfing from one friend's house to another, bed hopping from hostels to hostels.

In the span of 398 days there has been 27 flights, 160+ of long distance bus ride, 7 Countries, too much Tequila and Rum, endless hours spent talking to myself, countless friends who have extended their love and support and learned that a life time can be condensed to 432 cubic feet of space.

YOU. My darling YOU.
I lay my head on your chest and listen to the space between your heart beat and I am home. Yet I know that this feeling is not just you and only you. I have felt this way before; with a different heart beneath, with another set of arms around me. Experience tells me that I will again be home, with you, with another you.

Charles Dickens said that "Home is a name, a word. It is a strong one; stronger than magician ever spoke or spirits ever answered to, in the strongest conjuration." After a life time of searching, I have treaded the golden brick road and finally release the need for HOME to be an actual place, let go of any preconceptions and whispered the whispered the magic incantation.

I am HOME.

Julie and Julia and the Anatomy of Deboning a Duck

charlie@charliegrosso.com (charliegrosso) — Mon, 02 Nov 2009 17:39:00 +0000

Nov 1, 2009
Bogota, Colombia
Elevation 2574m

I went to the movies yesterday as I was a bit tender from part taking in the festivities of Halloween. It was a surreal experience and I felt sligthly displaced as I walk about in a mall, sitting down at a movie theater, watching a movie in English with Spanish sub-titles.

The mall is just like any mall that you would find in the states, in any first world nation. You are also being charged international prices for the movie and popcorn. After a month of backpacking, living on backpacker budgets, going the extremes from big cities to small towns, all of sudden being in a mall in Bogota and feeling like I could be stateside was disorienting. I ended up seeing "Julie and Julia," it was that or "Saw V."

The movie itself was entertaining enough but I was slightly disappointed that it did not actually show me how to debone a duck as now I am very curious to know and wanting to practice on a duck myself. This morning I startd to wonder about the difference between raising ducks verus raising chickens. What is the difference in return on investement and how did chicken become the IT poultry? At what point in human evolution did we decide that chicken will be the bird of choice, both in egg form and fully grown? If Michael Pollan´s "Ominivour's Dilemma" has taught me anything, is that the industry is driven by the math of return on investment and market demand. Did we demand to have chicken be the everyday poultry first or did we calacuate out the cost benefit first?

4 weeks in Colombia and I have travel by bus from the Carribean coast down to near Ecuador and then back up again to the capital. I have seen a lot of poilice presence in every town and have ventured into market places and neighborhoods that some would deem sketchy. When I was preping for the trip, friends caustioned me the danger of Colombia and that maybe I should rethink my plans. Colombia is still a place of guns and cocain, FARC adn kidnappings in the mind of many. My disorienting experience at the movies last nigth only serve to remind me a conversation I had with a fellow traveling friend Nick. Nick has just come up through Syria when I meet him in Tureky a few years back and I asked him about safty in Syria. He said "Civiliation carries on, no matter where you are, just be smart and not venture into conflict zones and you will find that life carries on. The people find a way to continue theie lives and liviehood." I have seen the tenacity of humanity in many places and irrespective to whether the mental image we have of Colombia is correct or misinformed, life certainly carries on here. The beauty of this nation and the warmth of its people have impressed me deeply. Colombia is unlike anything I had imagined it to be.

Friday Meat Delivery

charlie@charliegrosso.com (charliegrosso) — Mon, 02 Nov 2009 17:30:00 +0000

Oct 30, 2009
Salento, Colombia
Elevation 1900m

Salento is too small of a town to have a market of its own. There are a few small shops around town that sells fruits and vegetabels, for eggs and dairy you have to go to different store where you can also buy dry and packaged goods. If you are in need of meat, the butcher shop is where you go. There are about 3 butchers in town. I was told that a meat delivery truck comes by once a week and stocks the shops with fresh meat.

I went to the butcher on thursday and bought some gruond beef for spaghetti and meatballs and noticed that there were very little meat left in case, slim pickings. I walked by the butcher shop the next day, forgetting that it was friday, fresh meat day, and was surpirsed by the sight of a bloody cow head on the floor and all the meat hooks filled with sides of beef. Then it made me wonder, how much meat does a town of 3500 consume in a week? It looks to me that each of the butcher shop gets at least an entire cow per week, is that enough for the residence of Salento? What about the resturants? Do they get a seperate meat delivery or do they source all of their meat from the butchers down the street as well? There are too many things we take for granted.

The Detail of the Thing or also known as The Serial Killer Instinct

charlie@charliegrosso.com (charliegrosso) — Thu, 29 Oct 2009 17:39:00 +0000

Oct 29, 2009,
Salento, Colombia
Elevation 1900m

It is always the little tiny miniscule details that get to me. Irrespective to how many markets I have been to, it is always that moment when I see a detail of a thing and that would be what sticks in my mind and that is what get to me...just a little. Sometimes it is that single drop of blood on the floor, the eyelash that is left on the eyeball, the mole that is on the peeled off face or the tiny whiskers that is on the muzzel. It is never the whole carcass, it is never death in its fullness. It is always these tiny moments.

It reminds me the show "Dexter" or of detective novels where it is always the little things. It is always these moments that the author focuse in on, it is always these little details the character, albeit the Serial Killer or the Detectives obsess over. Is it because it is not death that bothers us but the details that reminds us of the life that once was? Or is it because death is too vast to comprehend so our brain focus in on the miniscule so that we don´t freak out?

"One death is a tragedy, a million is statistics." Is our reaction and focus on the details another reflection of the same sentiment?

Market Day in Silvia

charlie@charliegrosso.com (charliegrosso) — Thu, 29 Oct 2009 17:04:00 +0000

Oct 27, 2009
Silvia, Colombia
Elevation 2647m

Silvia is the center of the Guambiano region. The Guambianos are considered one of the most traditional indigenous group in Colombia and every Tuesday they come into the town of Silvia for market day to trade and socialize. This is the first indigenous markets I have seen and photographed in Colombia. Colombia does not have a high indigenous population but as I travel further south and close to Ecuador, indigenous cultures are starting to appear.

This market day was beautiful. The town square is filled with Guambianos in traditional grabs, the women walk around the town with a spindle in one hand spinning yarn as they mill about. The vendors in the market is a mixture of Guambianos and Colombians. There are Guambianos selling fruits and vegetables but all the butchers at the market appears to be Colombian. I suspect it would be harder for the Guambianos to come into Silvia and sell meat and such as there would be more complicated logistics involved, such as the transporation of the animials and a location for slaugher. Or it could also be possible that Guambianos regularly slaugher animals in their own village so when they come into Silvia, their need for meat is limited.

What stands out from market day here at Silvia are the little details:
- Guambianos couple wearing matching work boots with same color shoe laces.

- A guy walking around the market demonstrating a chain saw, turning on the motor and making the children cry while the crowd gathers and the price of the chain saw is excitedly whispered through the crowd.

- The unique features and faces of the Guambianos.

- How the town square is colored with the blue of the Guambiano garb and they sit about and have visits with each other and the Colombian town folks of Silvia. There is no seperation and distinction.

- How the Guambianos line up outside of post office or other buildings of official nature so that they can take care of whatever modern life logistics that needs to be taken care of. This contrast between the effort to hold on to the tradition but also giving in to the demands of the modern world.

The Level of Danger

charlie@charliegrosso.com (charliegrosso) — Sat, 24 Oct 2009 17:38:00 +0000

Oct 23, 2009
Manizales, Colombia
Elevation 2094m

Alexandro offered to take me to the main market here in Manizales today. He thought that it is not safe for me to go by myself. The market was amazing. Today, for the first time I got to see an entire pig butchered and seperated into smaller parts. An entire pig disappeared into smaller geometeric shapes right in front of me in under 20 minutes. The speed and the skill of the butchery is amazing.

Nothing is wasted here. Everything is used for something. I watched butchers labouriously take off the skin on a cow´s head, pick off whatever bits of meat there is on the head along with cataledge and whatnot for what Alexandro describes as a meat jello like dish.

Here in Colombia, everytime I ask someone about the market, where it is or how I can get there, they look at me and tell me that its not really safe to go. I go anyways. I have never felt unsafe or sketchy when I am in the market, surrounded by butchers, carcass, vegetables and fruit sellers. The most profound and basic thing happens here in these markets and my danger alarm never has gone off. I am uncertain as to why the constant warnings. Perhaps I am not seeing the danger, perhaps I am being a little too naive, or perhaps these nice Colombians just don´t want anything to happen to me and end up with a negative impression of their beloved country.

Alexandro was really excited that he got to take me to the market today and show me around. Towards the end of the morning, he asked me what I thought of it and why do I like it so much. I told him that I like the market because it exists without my gringo dollars. The market happens irrespective to what the flow of tourism is or isn´t. It is authentic and it is real and it is life at its most basic, independent of backpackers or how wildly visted a country is.

*I had some amazing pictures for you but I lost my blackberry (where the pictures are stored on) on the bus ride out of Manizales...so I am afraid that you will have to wait until the end of December when the website gets overhauled with all the new images from Latin America.

Coffee Facts

charlie@charliegrosso.com (charliegrosso) — Sat, 24 Oct 2009 17:17:00 +0000

Oct 22, 2009
Manizalea, Colombia
Elevation 2094m

I went to a coffee farm today for a tour as I am in the Zona Cafetera region of Colombia. Our guide´s name is Alexandro and this is what I learned:

- a 10 kilo bag of raw beans sells from $1.25-$2 USD depending on the harvest and market demand.

- a 10 kilo bag of raw beans will yeild approx 3 kilos after roasting.

- this particular coffee farm has 20-30 works on staff but will add another 50-80 seasonal worker for the harvest season.

- the seasonal harvest workers vary in age, anywhere between 13-70 and there used to be a lot more women 10-15 years ago than now.

- the climate change is effecting the harvest and the crop. previously they were getting 80% of their harvest to be of export quality where as now they are only getting 30% that are good enough for export.

- export quality beans look and tasts vastly different than that of domestic consumptn. domestic consumption are of inferior beans are burnt and often infested with worms. the same quality of beans are what is used in the likes of Folgers or instant coffee.

- harvest workers are paid by the kilos, 400COP (approx $.50) per kilo. if the harvest is good, they can pick as much as 100 kilos a day

- a coffee tree can produce berries for 5 years then its dormiate for 2 years. every 7 years modifications needs to be made to the tree, such as trimming it back, in order for it to produce berries again in another 5 plus 2 year cycle.

- during harvest season, the prices for goods in surrounding towns fluctuate depending on the quality of the harvest. if its a good year, food and goods are more expensive as the workers have more money to spent. where as if its a bad harvest season, things are cheaper.

Alexandro said that he loves giving tours for the coffee farms as coffee is such an important part of the region and his culture that he feels like he is sharing a part of himself with us, "showing us himself" as he says.

An Honest Killing

charlie@charliegrosso.com (charliegrosso) — Tue, 20 Oct 2009 20:25:00 +0000

Oct 20, 2009
Medellin, Colombia
Elevation 1494m

I photographed Plaza Minorista Jose Maria Villa this morning. It is a large covered market just west of the Center. The most interesting thing about this market is the meat section. There are refrigerated display cases up front with various cuts of meat, just behind the counter there are large sides of carcass dangling from hooks and then behind that is a large walk-in refrigerator, some with windows for you to look into and see the butchering in progress. It is almost the best of both worlds; the honesty of what meat is combined with the technology and modernity of the 21st Century.
Charlie Grosso
www.charliegrosso.com
310-592-0895

The W for backpackers

charlie@charliegrosso.com (charliegrosso) — Tue, 20 Oct 2009 20:16:00 +0000

Oct 20, 2009
Medellin, Colombia
Elevation 1494m

There is a small network of hostels in Colombia and they all work together to recommend each other. From my experiences in the last 3 cities, these hostels are by far the best and most well run ones here in Colombia. For Medellin, the first hostel recommendation is Casa Kiwi.

Casa Kiwi is like no other hostel I have ever been at before. It has just undergone renovation and it is like a the "W" hotel for backpackers. It is modern, it is slick, it has beautifully tiled bathrooms that would not be out of place in a $400 per night hotel room in NYC. There is a pool table, a fully stocked open kitchen, a movie room with terraced seating, a large deck looking out onto the street below and a roof top pool that is not quiet complete yet. Casa Kiwi is certainly in a class of its own.

Ironically, the degree of luxury that is offered by Casa Kiwi only highlight some of the things that I have grown tired of from the backpackers crowd. The constant partying, the bit of decadence that is part of the easy life even though we are all traveling on a budget, and mostly the lack of engagement with the world. How can one engage in the world when one is a tourist and moves from city to city, country to country. When one's biggest adjustment is the changing currency and the brand of beer that is preferred?

Once upon a time I thought that I would want to be able to take off for 6 months, for a year at a time and travel long term like many who I have meet on the road. Yet as I meet more and more backpackers, their stories are all becoming more and more the same. Maybe this all goes back to that idea of FREE and what it means to be FREE (see blog entry July 2009).

What I am interested in is how to engage more profoundly with a place, with the people. What I want to know is how can I add an extra layer to the experience. An extra layer of uniqueness to a new country, of a new place, to get what makes it tick and makes it unlike any other. For that, I am thankful for the existence of "Wok the Dog" yet I want more. I want to learn more, connect deeper, understand better. Any suggestions?

Charlie Grosso

www.charliegrosso.com

310-592-0895

Their Eyes are Watching...

charlie@charliegrosso.com (charliegrosso) — Fri, 16 Oct 2009 13:07:00 +0000

Oct 16, 2009
San Gil, Colombia
Elevation 1100m

The market here at San Gil is the first market that I have been to in Colombia that is of interest. The markets in Cartagena were difficult and challenging and not in a good way. It has taken me a while to finally get to another town and start to move through Colombia, but that is another story for another time.

I usually relie a bit on the fact that the vendors would be busy doing their thing while I am at the market. There is a certain annoymous factor involved here that enables me to walk about and shoot as I do. However, this morning at San Gil, all the vendors takes a note of me, wants to say hello, wants to know where I am from, wants to tell me that I am pretty, wants to know what I think of Colombia. I could not walk about unnoticed. As I wonder through, I repeated hear the words, "China," "Californina," shouted through out the market in addition to whatever else is being said in Spanish. I must say that the Colombian´s friendliness is unparalled in any Latin America country that I have traveled through so far. However, this amount of attention is a huge change from the norm and I can´t help but wonder how that will effect the shooting and the images I will be able to get from Colombia.

We are so well prepared, too bad we are not sleeping in the woods

charlie@charliegrosso.com (charliegrosso) — Wed, 14 Oct 2009 21:30:00 +0000

Oct 12, 2009
Parque Nacional Tayrona

Yesterday a strange foursome of travelers head into Parque Nacional Tayrona, some are wanting to layout on the beach while others are looking to do a little trekking and escape the Colombians on holiday.

Not knowing exactly what we would be getting ourselves into and assuming that all food and water would be expensive and perhaps hard to come by in the park, Caps and I pack 3 liters of water each in addition to snacks in anticipation of a day of isolation and trekking. All the while, Victoria and Klas have pack minimal water and a bag of saltines. We walk into the park on an easy trail for about 50 minutes before we arrived at the first beach site, Arrecifes. It is a beautiful sight to behold. The sea is luscious and the sand pristine, but the currents are strong and swimming is not advisable here. There is also 3 large campsites here and all of them are fill to the brim with people. We move on to the next stop, La Piscina, 20 minutes away and its a beautiful blue cove perfect for swimming but of course, it is filled with people. Victoria and Klas are wanting to stay while Caps and I are wanting to keep on going. Caps and I stay there for about an hour before we decide to head out to Cabo San Juan where we are supposed to stay the night.

Cabo San Juan looked like the site of a major music festival. There are tents pitched in every spare inch on the grass, the line waiting for food is long and exhausting and the hammocks for rent are lined up one next to the other only meters apart. I conjured an image of what night would look like with all the hammocks filled with people and that mental picture filled me with horror and expediency to get out of Cabo.

Caps and I have lunch at Cabo and we both agree that we should keep on going to Pubelito, an archaeological site high in the Sierra Nevadas and away from the beach. Our plan was to hike up to Pubelito and then back down again to Playa Breva and hope that it is not filled with Colombians and Gringos. At the beginning of the trail there is a sign that says it is 2.5 miles to Pubeltio and that you should not head out past 1pm. It is 3:45pm and Caps and I are confident that we would be able to manage 2.5 miles in an hour. After all, we are pretty quick on our feet.
The next 2.5 miles are filled with giant boulders and an elevation gain that is steep and rapid. We are out of breath every few minutes and every bit of water we consume is immediately poured out of our pores. Yet as we are soaking wet standing on top of a giant boulder looking back towards the Caribbean and the jungle spread out in front of us, we smile and think its all worth it.

The sky is darkening and we hustle on through as we still have another 2.5 miles+ before we would reach Playa Breva where we can spend the night. The guide book describes the trail to Playa Breva as junglely and not very well marked. We arrive at a fork in the road, one of them go up while the other goes down. We opt for the trail that goes down since in theory we should be losing elevation as we trek towards sea level. 10 minutes down this trail and we wonder if we are on the right trail or if it is a trail at all that we are on. Yes, it is poorly marked and its definitely junglely but to what degree are we interpreting the directions here? Caps climbs over this fallen tree and yells back at me," there is kinda a trail here." " Which way kind of?" I ask, "kinda of a trail or kinda of not a trail?" "Kinds of not having been used in a long time trail." Ok, time to turn back and try the other trail.

This trail is much better marked comparatively and we hustle our way through all the flat part at a speed that is something faster than a power walk but not quiet a run. It is getting darker by the second and I pull out 2 headlamps and we start to trek in the dark. All the mean while, we joke about having to sleep in the dark, in the woods, that we still have enough water, peanuts and cookies to get us through the night, not to mention 98% DEET to keep the bugs away. This trail is also poorly marked and it is definitely junglely but we are blessed by the fact that we can't see well enough to see the drop off on the other side of the trail or how steep of a decent we were actually doing. Got to love it when adrenaline takes over and all fears are none-existent, only the will and physical endurance to get you through the task at hand.

Every minute in the dark in the jungle feels like an hour, every fraction of a mile we hike feels like ten. We finally come to this barbed wired fence and Caps thinks that we should walk around the fence as we can hear the ocean straight ahead. But the fence goes from end of end and there is no way around it. I think I saw a path we had just missed so we give that a try. Just on the other side of the path is a hut and our destination!!! Yay! "Too bad we didn't have to sleep in the woods, we were so well prepared" Caps says to me upon our arrival.

We have some chicken for dinner and spend a night in a hammock with only one other couple around. The difference between Playa Breva and Cabo is incomparable. We wake up in the morning to an empty beach, blue sky, green hills that rolls down the cliff to meet the beach. This is paradise!

Charlie Grosso

www.charliegrosso.com

310-592-0895

In The Giant Termite Mounde

charlie@charliegrosso.com (charliegrosso) — Fri, 09 Oct 2009 21:35:00 +0000

Oct 9, 2009
Cartagena, Colombia
Elevation 2m

I went out to Volcan de Lodo el Totumo today with some friends. At first I was recluctant to go, but then curosity, a slight bit of bordem and a lot of why the hell not got the better of me and so off I went. The first sentence in the Lonley Planet guid says ¨No, its no the world´s largest termite mound.¨ Well....having reading that, my first sight of this ¨volcano¨made my burst out laughing. It really does look like the world´s largest termite mound.

Its about 15m tall and the opening on top its about 8 feet by 15 feet and it is fill with mud the consistency of pudding or clotted cream (take your pick of thick dairy based substance). You climb down a few steps and a local guys indicates that you lay down in the mud on your back. As you float on top of this incredibly dense mud, he cover you with it and then pushes you to the side so that you can wait in line to be massaged by another local guy. There is a bit of assembly line quality to what is happening in this tiny mud pit. You get massages for about 5 minutes by the guy then he pushes you again off to another side to make room for more incomings.

As I ¨wallow¨in mud in this giant terminte mound, I can´t help but be reminded of the children´s book, Ïn the Night Kitchen¨ by Murice Sendak and the part of the boy falling into milk or cake batter or something. Only difference being that I am in mud and I don´t think there is a chance that I would get baked into a cake. What is the most bizzard is that you can stand up in the mud. It is so dense that although you are kinda standing on ¨nothing¨ you are afloat and not sinking.

If you are ever curious about what would be like to float in a tub of clotted cream, come to Cartagena and visit Volcan de Lodo el Totumo.

*Picture to come

Thank you Mr Penn

charlie@charliegrosso.com (charliegrosso) — Fri, 09 Oct 2009 21:25:00 +0000

Oct 9, 2009
Cartagena, Colombia
Elevation 2m

I had a moment this morning to read through the headlines from these last couple of days and to my surprise, I found out that Mr Irving Penn had passed away on Wednesday at the age of 92. He is one of my favorit photographers from that generation and also the last surviving one. Both Mr Richard Avedon and Helmut Newton passed away in these past couple of years.

I once asked my friend Jay Maisel if he has ever had a chance to meet Mr Penn, Jay being a famous photographer in his own right. Jay said that his path and Mr Penn has never really crossed but they both know of one another and have had several phone conversations. He said in one of his conversations with Mr Penn, Jay expressed a desire to meet. Mr Penn then told him that he was not recieving guests as there is still so much photographs that he wants to take and he has so little time left.

Mr Penn´s dedication made me speechless.

There is a nice article about Mr Iriving Penn´s life and works in the New York Times if you are interested.

A home away from home

charlie@charliegrosso.com (charliegrosso) — Wed, 07 Oct 2009 22:36:00 +0000

Oct 7, 2009

Cartagena, Colombia

My wondering of these last 10 months has finally gotten the best of me. I am in Cartagena and I cannot for the life of me convince myself to get out of bed this morning to head out to the market.

No matter how much I try to convince myself that my purpose here is to shoot, hence, I must get up, I do not want to. All I want to is stay in bed and stare at the white ceiling above with the molding and watch the ceiling fan circle around. All I want to do is lay in this little room of mine, where no one knows me, needs nothing from me, expect nothing from me, demands nothing of me. At least just for a little while longer, at least just for a day. A home for me, even if its only at 18000 COP per night, for the moment, this little white room is mine, all mine, a home away from home.

I know myself well enough to know that if I just give in to moments like this the feeling will resolve itself. Once I have had my fill, I will get sick of the stillness, and be ready for another chicken bus, be ready for another adventure.

I did manage to get up and head to the market for a very uninspired morning of shooting. Only to find my way back to my little white room a little while later and lay down to admire the ceiling, the consistency of the fan. It is now nearly 4pm and I have spent most of the day hiding in my room, listening to the world go by outside. I am almost ready to participate again, I am almost ready for you, Cartagena.

Now, only if I could stop sweating...

Charlie Grosso

www.charliegrosso.com

310-592-0895

Spontaneous Yellow Fever Vaccination

charlie@charliegrosso.com (charliegrosso) — Tue, 06 Oct 2009 23:02:00 +0000

Oct 5, 2009

Cartagena, Colombia

At sea level

I arrived in Cartagena, Colombia today and as I was waiting in line at immigration, I make friends with these 2 girls who were traveling alone as well. Victoria, who will be on the road for 4 months through South America and Lesile who will be traveling for 6 months but first she is doing a 3 week language school in Cartagena.

Victoria and I shared a taxi into town and are staying at the same hostel. She wanted to get her yellow fever vaccination taken care of and somehow I ended up on this errand with her. We go over to Casa Viena where the owner Hans is a wealth of information. He tells us where to go to get the vaccination and we head in that direction. While I am standing at the vaccination office and listening to Victoria asking the nurses what area she cannot go to without the vaccination, I decided that I should get mine as well. Hey, I am here already.

I have not had any vaccinations since I was a child and the last time I got a shot of any sort was 15 years ago for rabies and tetanus after our dog had taken a bit out of me. I know that some might think I am foolish for traveling the world as I do without any vaccinations, but in my defense, I have always planned on getting them when I head out to the likes of Africa and India.

$27 dollars and a very spontaneous decision later, I now have my yellow fever vaccination. My left arms hurts so much that I can't quiet left it over my head nor can I sleep on my left side. However, I am now yellow fever proof. Now let's just hope that all the other diseases that I am not vaccinated against does not find me.

Charlie Grosso

www.charliegrosso.com

310-592-0895

Bread and Puppet

charlie@charliegrosso.com (charliegrosso) — Sat, 19 Sep 2009 00:28:00 +0000

Sept 18, 2009
Johnson, Vermont

Lily, Whitney, Jacqueline and I ventured into the NorthEast Kingdom today to pay homage and a visit to our magical darling Peter Schumann, a man who looks like he walked out of a fairytale. Peter Schumann is the founder and director of the Bread and Puppet Theater. The Bread and Puppet Theater is a politically radical puppet theater (with puppets made out of paper mache) active since the 1960's. Peter and a few troop members came to the Studio Center last week and graced us with a performance.

Ever since I first laid eyes on Peter Schumann at lunch last Saturday, I have been enamored and fascinated by him. During last Saturday's performance, Peter performed a "sermon" about the paper mache religion and I maybe heard 5 sentences out of the entire sermon. I could not take my eyes off of Peter, words lost meaning and only his presence mattered.

The Bread and Puppet Museum is a 3 story barn that houses all the paper mache puppets from shows that has been retired. What is inside the barn is INCREDIBLE! Peter came out and chatted with us for a little while and showed us the Paper Mache Theater with the Dirt Floor Cathedral. A barn that has been turned into a theater space with all the walls and ceiling covered in paper mache figures and drawings. Birds and chipmunks reside in the paper mache theater along with all the magic that Peter conjures.

The experience of this visit left all of us speechless. Please excuse the lack of grace this blog entry has as I have been struggling for hours trying to describe what we witnessed today in that 3 story barn. Words are insufficient, or maybe I simply lack the grace and skill to wrangle that magical magnificence we experience in that 2 hours into paragraphs that makes sense. What can be put into words is that there is a 3 story barn and it is filled with paper mache puppets. The puppets were used for political protest and performance and some of the puppets are 10 feet tall. What those sentences do not convey is the beauty and depth that has been expressed in these puppets, in the art that Peter and The Bread and Puppet Theater created.

Before we went out to the NorthEast Kingdom today, Whitney has asked me to justify why I am so fascinated and set on (even before I meet Peter) going to the Bread and Puppet theater. Whitney had though that the puppets were made of bread (which would have been awesome) and after discovering that the puppets are not made of bread, she demanded that I back up my interest. I am fascinated because I love puppetry. I am fascinate because paper mache is such a simple material, played with mostly by children, not "serious" art material used by "serious" artists. To have an entire museum filled with nothing but paper mache puppets, what is not interesting about that?

So much anguish and injustice are expressed in the puppets. So much beauty, longing and desire for equality and a better world is told through the puppets. The form so simple. The materials basic and cheap. Yet the artistry that the puppets are made with, the expression...In that barn, I was offered beauty that broke my heart. I am humbled. All of us were brought to our knees. All of this desire for something more, equality, justice, even perhaps revolution, in contrast with Peter. Oh, Peter, a man who is filled with joy and magic. He is beautiful. You look at him and you do not experience the anger and outrage he must feel towards US government, US foreign policy, or the injustice and inequality that he protests against in this world. All you feel is wonderment and magic. This contradiction, this beauty, this dedication to something that he profoundly believes in and has dedicated his life to ...

===

This is the Bread and Puppet philosophy:

We give you a piece of bread with the puppet show because our bread and theater belong together. For a long time the theater arts have been separated from the stomach. Theater was entertainment. Entertainment was meant for the skin. Bread was meant for the stomach. The old rite of baking, eating and offering bread were forgotten. The bread decay and became mush. We would like you to take your shoes off when you come to our puppet show or we would like to bless you with the fiddle bow. The bread shall remind you of the sacrament of eating.

We want you to understand that theater is not yet an established form, not the place of commerce you think it is, where you pay to get something. Theater is different. It is more like bread, more like a necessity. Theater is a form of religion. It preaches sermons and builds a self-sufficient ritual. Puppet theater is the theater of all means. Puppet and masks should be played in the street. They are louder than the traffic. They don't teach problems, but they scream and dance and display life in its clearest terms. Puppet theater is of action rather than of dialogue. The action is reduced to the simplest dance like complicated body of many heads, hand, rods and fabric.

We have two types of puppet shows: good ones and bad ones, but all of them are for good and against evil.

===

Peter is about to take leave of us so we may wonder through the museum at our leisure. He says good bye to Lily, Whitney and Jacqueline. I am on my knees rummaging through my backpack for another battery for my camera, I stuck my hand out to shake his, Peter take my hand and give me a kiss on the cheek. I am flattered. I was the only one he kissed. As I think back on that moment I realize it was out of a fairytale. I was on one knee, paying respect to a magical man, and this man with a magical tappy soul who I have been in love with since last week, graced me with a kiss and maybe (I hope) left me with bit of magic.

A Quick Bit of Staistics

charlie@charliegrosso.com (charliegrosso) — Thu, 10 Sep 2009 04:12:00 +0000

Sept 10, 2009
Johnson, VT

I am slightly obsessive about certain things and I have quietly hid these little obsessions over the years. I have decided to embrace them as I approach the end of my 30 years.

30 gigs of data / digital images were created on this last trip
63 rolls of film shot which equals 1032 frames of images. 451 frames made it through the first edit and have been scanned. 43.7% of film shot made it through the initial edit to move on to the second round. Not a bad shooting average at all.

Chichicastenago Surprise

charlie@charliegrosso.com (charliegrosso) — Wed, 09 Sep 2009 18:03:00 +0000

Sept 9, 2009
Johnson, Vermont

As some of you know, the market at Chichicastenago in Guatemala was slightly underwhelming for me. Yet sometimes the places that you didn't think much of can surprise you with an amazing shot that make the early morning worth while and rewrite your impression of that day, that market, that moment forever. This is part of the magic of photography. This is part of the wonder of film.

One of my favorite thing about shooting film is that you don't get to see it right away. You have wait. By the time you get your proof sheets back, its been days and days and days since you shot that roll, since you been to that place. It is familiar to look at each shot as you remember most of them and also a surprise too cause there are ones that are long forgotten.

I would say that I had the best market experience in Central America at San Juan Chamula. But I am not sure that I have a GREAT shot from that day. Chichicastenago might have been slightly disappointing as far as the market was concerned, but look what I brought home with me, look at this moment that I caught on film.

A Delicate Balance

charlie@charliegrosso.com (charliegrosso) — Wed, 09 Sep 2009 17:19:00 +0000

Sept 9, 2009
Johnson, Vermont

It is day 10 here at the artist residency and I am still having trouble finding that perfect balance. I have so much work that I need to get through before I am back on the road again. Editing, scanning, cleaning and dealing with the images from the last trip is a month's worth of work and I am trying to get it completed in 2 weeks. I want to do a little bit more research on the next project and maybe get that started. I would like to get some writing done. There are lots and lots of ideas kicking around up there, the hamsters have been working over time and there is an avalanche that needs to come out. In short, there is a lot of work to do.

Yet, I am in Johnson Vermont, a small town, surrounded by some wonderful artists, writers, beautiful beautiful people who have a uniquely different perspective on life, art and what not. I would like to get to know them. I would like to know their stories and what they dream about. I am being offered a community of like minded people and I want to take advantage of that.

Its a struggle every day between locking myself away in the studio and work until I can't keep my eyes open anymore or go out and socialize with the other artists. A delicate balance of work and play that I seem to have trouble finding. I know I am not the only one. This very same conversation of balance comes up during meals (I know that its ridiculous that I think it takes too much time out of my day to share 3 meals a day with the other artists) and I am comforted to know that I am not the only workaholic present.

Is it weird to feel that life was a lot easier on the road? I shoot in the morning when its not a day spent in transit. I walk around the rest of the day and photograph whatever else that captures my imagination. The hours in between the nitty gritty of survival (food, laundry and lodging) is for me to read, to wonder, to sight see, to day dream, to write, to hunt down coffee and Oreos. The residency is supposed to take away all the distractions of daily life yet I find myself even more perplexed and stressed than I would be otherwise.

Life is a constant push and pull of opposites and you just hope that you can make it to the end without being torn apart by the force fields.

*Photograph courtsey of Frank Jackson, a dear dear friend and a fantastic photographer.

Language and Adaptability

charlie@charliegrosso.com (charliegrosso) — Wed, 09 Sep 2009 14:43:00 +0000

Sept 9, 2009
Johnson, Vermont

Language is fluid. It is adoptable, it is ever changing. When I think of language I think of this footage of an octopus escaping a box that has an one inch opening. The octopus sticks its limbs out of the hole one by one, you think of course it can do that, but then you wonder about its head which is much larger than the opening, just when you start to lose faith in its ability to make it out of the box, it some how squeezes its head through as well.

We meet people, as we spend time with them, we began to take on their accents, we began to incorporate words from their vocabulary into ours.

This one artist told me her roommate would say "Church!" instead of "Christ!" and after a while, she started to as well. When I am with my British friends, "college" becomes "uni" and "brilliant" has become a permanent part of my vocabulary. When we are in foreign lands we attempt to speak the language the best we can, even if we can only say "hello" and "thank you." The practice of learning / speaking a foreign tongue makes sense in foreign lands but why are we naturally inclined to adopted new vocabulary when we are all speaking the Queen's Language? Do we feel that if we used their vocabulary then the other person would understand us that much better? Is it the same impulse as "Hey, look at me, I speak your language. Listen! You must understand me if we are using the same words."

What is even more fascinating is that we become amalgam of language and words that is unique to us and us alone as we travel through life and pick up words and phrases like a magpie.

I decided that I will no longer use the phrase "Good Morning" instead I will say "Buenos Dias" instead. When I say "Buenos Dias" a smile follows, but the phrase "Good Morning" does not inspire a smile.

What are some shinny words and phrases you have picked up along the way?

Chicken with a GIANT Egg

charlie@charliegrosso.com (charliegrosso) — Sat, 05 Sep 2009 05:50:00 +0000

Sept 3, 2009
Johnson, VT

I have been scanning film from this last trip since Monday. I came across this image today, I had forgotten about it. There is a GIANT egg in the cage with the chickens. I wonder which chicken had laid that egg, or has any of them tried to sit on it?

A Snap Shot of My Reality

charlie@charliegrosso.com (charliegrosso) — Thu, 03 Sep 2009 20:40:00 +0000

Sept 3, 2009
Johnson, VT

Never have I thought that I would find the following items congregate on my desk ... bu they have found their way here and this will be my reality for the next 21 days.

A botttle of Jose Cuervo Tradicional
A bottle of Kahula
A Pad Lock
Scissors
Canon G9
A Bananna
A Bottle of Water
Kleenex
American Spirit Light
A Lighter
Post-Its
Film
Yellow legal pad
Pens and Sharpies
Tweezers
Promo Cards for "Wok the Dog"
iPod
Travel Speakers
Moleskins notebook
Wallet
Watch
Eye Drops
Gloves
Compress Air
MacBook Pro
LaCie 500g Hard drives
Masking Tape
A glass with a sip of Tequila left from last night

Have I somehow figure out the secret hand shake, pass the rite of initiation, and finally entered into the full fledged ranks of "masters"?

The Name Game

charlie@charliegrosso.com (charliegrosso) — Wed, 02 Sep 2009 20:59:00 +0000

Sept 2, 2009
Johnson, VT

I have completed the first round of edit of on the new images from Latin America and now I am scanning/cataloging them. It is a boring task, a tedious task, but it needs to be done. When the images gets scanned, you have name it as you file it away on your hard drive. Each image are filed under country, month/year and the city the image was shot in. Then each individual image gets roughly named, along with the twin check number and frame number on the roll. So a sample name for an image would be "meat_7991_12."

I don't get very creative with these preliminary names, once the images have made it through another round of edit is when I start to think about what to title each image, but even then, I still struggle. After naming numerous files "meatlady" over the course of the day, of the years, of the life of "Wok the Dog," I am starting to wonder how many files do I have that are called "meatlady" and if you could have too many "meatlady"? When I hit that creative block on what to name each file, I began to think that maybe there might be something to calling your art "Untitled" after all.

What you title your art work tends to be some what important and can be very helpful in the reception and success of your work. For example, do you think Damien Hirst's tiger shark would be as successful if it was not titled "The Physical Impossibility of Death in the Mind of Someone Living" but simply called "Dead Shark" instead?

Logic vs Gut Instinct in hand to hand combat in an all White Room

charlie@charliegrosso.com (charliegrosso) — Tue, 01 Sep 2009 19:05:00 +0000

Aug 31, 209
Johnson, Vermont
Elevation 157m

I am sitting in my all white studio space with a window looking out into the parking lot with a perfect view of the construction workers using the porter potty. I know that photography is on the low end of the totem pole in the art world, but did that need to be made so obvious with a view of the shit house? (I am certain that my studio assignment does not reflect anything other than what is practical and convenient).

I am editing through 63 rolls of film from Mexico and Central America. I shot markets in 13 different cities and 4 countries. I can usually look at the proof sheet and tell you which town that market is as no two markets are a like. I am looking at 3 proof sheets of meat isles and meat stalls and I cannot tell you which country it was in, much less what town. I remember being at that particular market, I remember shooting the images, I remember each of the isles, but I cannot remember anything else. By the process of elimination, logic tells me that this mystery market is not in El Salvador or Nicaragua, but my gut instinct tells me that I shot these images late in the trip which means that it is El Salvador or Nicaragua. OMG! I feel like I am going crazy. My gut is certain, but logic dictates otherwise.

Maybe its not good for me to be in an all white room. Maybe I should staples some pads to the walls....

Johnson Vermont and Artist Camp

charlie@charliegrosso.com (charliegrosso) — Tue, 01 Sep 2009 18:07:00 +0000

Aug 31, 2009
Johnson, Vermont
Elevation 157m

I arrived this morning after a red eye flight to Burlington Vermont. I am here because I have been awarded a fellowship for a 4 week artist residency program. We are picked up by a shuttle service and we drive an hour out side of Burlington to a small town called Johnson.

It is beautiful here. Blue sky, puffy white clouds, green hills, trees everywhere and hillside dotted with cute wooden houses. It is so quaint and picture perfect that you think you are on a movie set. The kind of Americana that exists here is pretty, yet something in its quaintness that solicit some kind of violent reaction in me. I don't want to say that this reality here is not "real," but yet, there is a part of it that is not real. I don't know how to explain it. I am hoping that its one of those you get it or you don't kind of thing.

The Vermont Studio Center has about 30 buildings in the town of Johnson, and when I say town, I mean a street where you can see one end of it while standing at the opposite end. We get our room assignments, our studios, a tour of the Center and the town. During the tour, we are told that there is no liquor here in town, beer and wine only. For liquor, you would have to visit another town where there is a state licensed liquor store. I then imagined Tom Waits and Charles Bukowski (if they would ever attend a residency program) walking out at the mention of the inaccessibility of liquor, tossing their cigarettes behind saying, "What kind of artist do you think we are?!"

Clearly I will not be creating any new images for "Wok the Dog" while I am here in rural Vermont, but I have 63 rolls to edit and scan and a few other projects that I am trying to flush out. There is plenty to keep me busy. I think the idea of the residency isn't so much about what you CREATE as much as it is that you have this time, this space, slotted and set aside for you to work on your art, whatever that may be. But naturally the Asian overachiever in me is all about WHAT CAN I MAKE and HOW MUCH CAN I GET DONE? I swear, between being a type A and implented with the overachiever gene, I will either rule the world one day or end up in a straight jacket muttering, "must do more!"

At the welcome dinner, Jon, the founder, talks about the idea of VSC and the opportunity and sacrifice that we made to be here. One thing that he talks about that really touched me is the idea of the community. Not only are we afforded the time and space to work without having to worry about meals, we have been granted this community of national and international artists of various age, experience, career development and discipline to be a part of. A community that understand the isolation that is required as we work and practice but also a chance to not be in our heads and our minds only and be inspired and perhaps even take a part in someone else's work. I really like the idea. Now, I just have to find that balance between keeping my head down and get as much done as I can verus just hanging out with my friends. The overachiever thinks we can do it all, even if it means we sleep less and work late.