Grupo Fantasma – The Pleasurecraft

May 19, 2010

Fiesta Gardens

There is no equivalent of Ellis Island anywhere along the Mexican border, no outstretched torch of Lady Liberty lighting the way for clandestine nighttime border crossings, no bronze plaque beckoning tired, poor, huddled masses and wretched refuse through the golden door. Really, would it have killed Panama to pop for a big copper statue as payback for helping them win independence from Columbia? (Yes, we gave them the military reach-around mainly so we could dig a huge ditch through the middle of their country, but hey, a favor’s a favor, right?) Just think of the warm feeling all those illegals would get (as if riding sardined in the back of a sweltering, windowless semi trailer through the desert wouldn’t do the trick) if they were welcomed by a reasonably svelte, feminine beacon of liberty, even (especially?) if she was wearing a poncho and a huge, touristy sombrero. Well, no such luck for our southern neighbors. Their entry into the land of the free is much too hasty to allow for standing around gazing at statues and waxing philosophical about the blessings of liberty. In Mexico, making a run for the border isn’t just a lighthearted euphemism for the late-night munchies; it’s an adrenaline-fueled gauntlet reminiscent of a jailbreak scene from Cool Hand Luke, except the bloodhounds are replaced by paranoia-crazed minutemen with night-vision goggles, assault rifles, and spine crushing 4-by-4s. Down on America’s tan line, immigration isn’t for the timid. It takes some cojones grandes to cross into the home of the brave. Those few who actually make it are awarded the prize of a shit job that pays below minimum wage, a breathtaking stay in a cheap motel room that’s packed tighter than the cargo hold of La Amistad, and, if things go exceptionally well, a shot at dying in a cloud of cocaine and gunfire like Tony Montana at the end of Scarface. For most immigrants, however, freedom really is just another word for nothing left to lose – especially since they probably just spent their life savings paying off a coyote. Yet, as brave, hardworking, and committed as illegal immigrants are to the American dream, as much as they love our country, they still have to leave it. They are, after all, illegal. Of course, that doesn’t mean we have to be dicks about it like Arizona. If Americans start pulling over and checking the papers of everyone who looks like they descended from immigrants just to make sure they’re legal, they won’t have any time left to run their casinos. F that S. Persecution is hardly un-American, but it doesn’t make it right or reasonable. This country was founded on the principle that all men were created equal. It has since spent more than 230 years falling short of that mark, but that doesn’t mean we should just give up. Hopefully, the rest of America is smarter or at least more optimistic than Arizona. Hopefully America understands that its strength is in its diversity, which means we have better food, better music, better parties, and we don’t bleed to death when we nick ourselves shaving. If you want to enjoy a great example of our awesome diversity with relatively little chance of being jacked up by immigration Nazis, check out this Saturday’s Pachanga Latino Music Festival at Fiesta Gardens. From noon to 11pm, four stages will host more than 20 Latino acts including such favorites as Grupo Fantasma, David Garza, Haydn Vitera, Vallejo, Amplified Heat, Roberto Pulido y los Clasicos, Hacienda, and Bomba Estéreo. Enjoy the music … and remember how much uglier it would be in Arizona.

February 25, 2008

If you don’t think laser hair removal is an art, think again. It’s not all about carving landing strips and bisecting unibrows. There may be occasions where a customer requests to have his back hair depilated in a facsimile of C.M. Coolidge’s Dogs Playing Poker or his butt rug burned into Escher’s mirror ball. Exacting craftsmanship like that requires a steady laser hand and a finely honed aesthetic. Just because they don’t offer laser hair removal classes at the École des Beaux-Arts (which is, of course, pure conjecture based on the idea that the French are both stuck up about their art and huge body hair fetishists) doesn’t exclude laser hair removal from the arts entirely. Similarly, art made in Texas isn’t necessarily automatically relegated to a starving artist sale in the basement of an interstate Ramada. There are plenty of Beaux Artistes here in Texas – and not just the ones selling painted driftwood on the side of the road next to the beef-jerky stand. There are gobs at the flea markets and in the booths in front of the Fiesta Mart. After all, what would the world be without dream catchers and rope dragons and sea shell art and wind chimes? And what about chain-saw sculpture? Why fuck around with a chisel and knife when you can lay into your art with 3.5 horsepower of ozone-depleting artistry? Want a log that looks like a bear? Want another one? How about a set? Maybe a coffee table made of tree trunk slices? Imagine Rodin trying to sculpt The Thinker with a screaming, bucking 40cc Poulan “Wild Thing?” Wouldn’t happen. Chain-sawing, even as an artistic outlet doesn’t involve a lot of deep thinking. The chain saw is surely an ingenious feat of engineering, but like NASCAR, the guy running the machine usually isn’t the brains of the operation. Ol’ Leatherface was crafty enough to outsmart a few teenagers, but he was still a far cry from a Mensa membership. Nonetheless, the happy news for chain-sawers – and Texans too for that matter – is that art isn’t a brain-heavy endeavor. At its core, art is about communicating emotionally rather than intellectually – sort of like George W. in a presidential debate. Artistic genius is, to say the least, a different type of genius. Pollock splattering canvases with paint or Mapplethorpe shoving a bullwhip up his ass or Christo wrapping islands in pink polypropylene takes a certain amount of noodle, no doubt, but it’s not like they were designing fusion reactors. So in other words, when it comes to art, the pressure’s off – intellectually at least, which makes Texas a great place for artists of all stripes, many of whom will be in residence at this weekend’s Texas Arts Festival, a two-day art and fun filled event celebrating Texas independence and art. Not only will there be nearly 100 booths filled with arts, crafts, food, and drink, there will also be live music from morning to night by diverse artists like Sunny Sweeney, American Graveyard, Ray Wylie Hubbard, and Grupo Fantasma. All told, 28 bands will take the stage Saturday through Sunday. At a $5 cover, that comes to just under 18 cents per band. When was the last time you saw Ray Wylie Hubbard for 18 cents? You don’t need to be a scientist to see that’s a damn good deal. Maybe you can take all the money you saved and get your cooter depilated to look like the Mona Lisa.