Thursday, November 27, 2008


Thanksgiving is a dick. Read the full story here....

bon appetite....

Fritz Scholder Painting Used to Wrap Old Dead Fish (Breaking News)

Here we are at another cycle of the new American Mythology, "Native American Awareness Month".

The most notable event which has been referred in this empty gesture has been worldwide reviews and pontificating over Fritz Scholder: Indian/Not Indian, an exhibit at the National Museum of the American Indian in the USA.

While Scholder made some sort of an impression on the rich white people's art market, he made none at all on American Indian culture. He was not any kind of tribal person. He did have some "Indian Blood", whatever that may mean. Millions of Americans have some little drop of American Indian blood. What makes an American Indian an American Indian is participation in the culture, in the life, in the struggle, in the reality. Scholder did none of that, ever.

When one considers the many incredibly talented tribal artists working in both the past and the present who are actual participants in their tribal cultures, this national press worship of a dead artist who painted large smudgy paintings of American Indians he never met is perverse. His paintings are very good, which is not the point. He has, as many people do, American Indian ancestors, or "blood" as it is sometimes called. Not the point. Sometimes it seems harsh when people are challenged about their heroes. The artist is gone from caring what we think. Arguably it is not his fault. It is not right to say Scholder is an American Indian artist. That is the point. He was a very god artist, I like much of his work.

The media is clearly dominated by people who are white, think white, sleep white, drink and eat white and have white fantasies about who and where the Indians are. Sometimes it is rather cute, amusing, watching this behavior. Where in the world is one actual American Indian that the white press can applaud, salute or exhibit?

My vote for a really great, and really real American Indian Artist is one T.C. Canon. This guy was one real American Indian. His art was real, often profound, sometimes encompassing the great mysteries of real life in a tribal person's real world. I think my favorite painting of his was one he did where he showed his mom walking about in Santa Fe while pregnant with him. How many artists have that kind of eye? TC Canon dies at an early age. He died to young. I look at the content of his work and sometimes weep for many reasons, not the least of which was his astonishing clarity.

Looking at Scholder's paintings is like looking at mud pies made by children. And dollar signs. His work is very valuable. But who the fuck is he? In my view he is nobody. A ghost painting pictures of the ghosts in his own mind. Shame on the so-called Museum of the American Indian. What a bunch of stiffs, white stiffs.

Scholder had ZERO influence on American Indian artists. None. I rarely meet an American Indian who has even heard of him. Yet he is the darkling icon of white liberal writers, the same ones who made lifelong Catholic officer and shuffling tourist dancer Black Elk into a "holy man". White society prefers to manufacture its heroes rather than discover them.

Native American Awareness month means something, somewhere, to somebody. Like Thanksgiving. To real American Indians, not so much. It is puzzling. Latin Americans have produced real heroes to be trotted out by the white press, as have African Americans. What is it about real and actual American Indians that the white press cannot look around and find one actual human being from that culture to celebrate, pontificate over, and drag out for the annual holiday propaganda they put in between their advertisements?

As for Scholder's painting of an American Indian with a flag draped around him, I am waiting for the painting of a Republican Presidential Candidate, with one of Scholder's big muddy paintings wrapped around him as he raises his middle finger to everybody who is not white.

Thursday, November 20, 2008

A Song in Sardinia


01 August 2008.
An honoring ceremony for late Andrea Parodi, an enormously gifted singer and cultural teacher of the Sardinian, Italia people and culture. This video was made by Silvia, my wife, at one point in the long ceremony we did that day. The beautiful woman in the video is Valentina, wife of Andrea Parodi and a beautiful spirit who shared all the ceremonies on this lovely day...

Wednesday, November 19, 2008

19 November 2008 ||

Strong dreams
Come in from the mystery life dances
We shared together. Strong dreams and feelings
About all this light
And all that noise waiting in the dark.
Can I return from where I have been
Breaking old stones to free the wind
That breathes within
To carry me where I have never been.

Monday, November 10, 2008

Correction Way || New World Ceremony

If you have lost something, you can retrace your steps and find it again.

In tribal life this is called “correction way”.

If you have lost your soul, it may be to late to apply a correction, John McCain.

If you have only lost your way, it is possible to make a correction from within yourself. The first step is to take responsibility for yourself and recognize how the choices you have made have either helped you or hurt you.

A good problem can be a tremendous blessing. Understanding that you may have a problem is a revelation. Accepting responsibility for the problem, you become immediately empowered with the possibility to solve it.

The United States has an opportunity to enter into a grand state of correction way blessings. This is in fact the best opportunity we have had in a generation. The dark face of corporate domination has shown us the dangers of ignoring the opportunity to make corrections.

The blog here is a process in the correction way adventure. It is a chance for a man like me to speak to you from american indian space on my own terms. The number of places on this earth where you can hear from an american indian on his own terms is very small.

Sometimes it is to late to fix what is wrong. The best you can hope for is recovery of what is broken and a new direction made from the ruins. It is never to late to keep going.

Many people base their life’s work on using the past as a kind of weapon to punish and harass those who are trying to go forward. This is a type of moral cowardice. It is exemplified by such useless dogs as Rush Limbaugh, a drug addicted narcissist leading a legion of sleep-walkers deeper and deeper into…nothing. Imagine that somewhere is a mother who gave birth to this piece of human garbage.

From somewhere, Americans in rather large numbers, a clear majority, actually stood up straight and looked change, and a new generation, in the face and opted for correction. It is the first time in many years, a lifetime, that so many have stood up for the unknown and the untested because it had the right feeling. They did this in the face of a mean name-calling machine that has pushed the limits of good taste and honest opinion to a breaking point.

Obama is not an American Indian. He has some tribal ancestors. Both in Africa and North America. I think a person is attached to the race and culture which has dominated their life. For Obama that is the African American culture, but also the new culture of the Multi-Racial Human Being. I am like that. I am part White, part Ojibway, part Catabwa, part Celtic. I love all those parts. Where I have lived and worked and grown and fallen in my life has been from inside American Indian culture. That is where I find my identity and my work. Obama was adopted formally by the elders of the great Crow Nation. Rather than expecting Obama to step up, I think it is time at last for tribal leaders to step up. American Indians have justified complaints against modern society. However, these leaders in tribal america must do their part. Time for them to step up.

Our sacred teachers tell us that the sacred truth can only take you halfway there. You have to come the other half yourself…on your own steam, standing up and eyes wide open.

Wednesday, November 05, 2008

Emotions of Hope

I am here on the tiny island of Pantelleria. There are just 2 Americans here. Curiously, the people of the island pay little attention to the outside world. Even so, they all were pulling for Obama. It is hard to find the words to explain how much they hate george fucking bush....or how charming it is that they have embraced Obama. I am feeling a lot of emotion. I am proud of the country, of the people. We have grown up a little. We have become more open, more accepting of new possibilities.

While this new president has inherited a disaster, a group of tragedies made entirely by the ignorance and arrogance of george fucking bush, we cannot how such a positive wave of energy can affect everything that happens from now on. Positive energy is a magical force. it enters the body bone-deep and changes everything. yes, the whole world has changed in ways we can feel and ways we cannot yet imagine. underestimate

I stayed up all night using my old analog modem to get updates. Finally, about 5 in the morning my time the election was called for Obama. I went to sleep feeling different. Today moving around the little Italian island the emotions are more deep. they are a combination of relief and hope. A fullness of the heart that I know and respect and cannot contain or hold in reserve.

The many vulgar and insane things the opposition attached Obama with never stuck. It has been a long time since I have seen so many people resist and turn away from the poisonous bullshit of the dominant political forces that have disgraced the United States for so many years.

I watched a 105 year old black woman make her vote. Obama mentioned her in his speech of victory. Seeing the faces of the black Americans made me happy. I also look at Obama and see somewhere the old Indians. Maybe now, at this time, the American Indian might have a new opening, a healing and a sense of sharing and belonging which they have never had, not for one fucking day in this country....until now. The emotions I feel for people of color, for blacks, for Indians, for the kenyan people who see their tribal ancestor in this shining place at this shining moment. I am proud of the white people who never shouted out the poison of race....except for sick dogs like Rush Limbaugh or the Drudge Report. Rush Limbaugh I don't care if I spell his name right or not), a disgrace of human pig-ness and pathologic drug addiction. george bush seemed impressed, possibly even humbled a little at the revelations facing his own life at this moment.

Yes, a complete and complicated and far-ranging set of emotions have filled me up. The BBC had an automatically refreshing text messaging page online that worked with my dial up modem very well. So I read the incoming messages all night, finally hearing at my time of 5 am, after California was called for Obama that real change had won the day.

I am happy and hopeful and ready.

Tuesday, November 04, 2008

Vote || Get Up Off Your Ass and VOTE

Vote !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Get out and Vote. Wake up and Vote. Stand in line and Vote|

Welcome to Native American heritage Month. Elect the first ever (part) American Indian US President !!

Vote. Sing and Dance and Vote.

Voting is a great way to not feel like an asshole if someone asked if you voted.

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