Clogtown: Artists Respond: American Art and the Vietnam War, 1965-1975 at Minneapolis Art Institute

Happy New Year! Happy New Decade! Welcome to the Roaring '20's! I'm excited. I have all sorts of stories to tell, but for the first one of this new calendar year, I have to tell you about the exceptional exhibit happening at the Minneapolis Art Institute that is ending THIS SUNDAY. Artists Respond: American Art and the Vietnam War, 1965-1975 and Artists Reflect: Contemporary Views of the American War are both real pieces of work that will stay with you for a good minute after you leave. It's HEAVY. And as it's looking like we're playing war games all over again (Iran today, North Korea always looming, Russia just getting away with everything ... ), this show is more important than ever ... so that we might THINK - and avoid such war horror all over again.

The show opens with a typewriter printing out current news constantly, filling the entire atrium at the entrance. News, 1969 (reconstructed 2019) by Hans Haacke emphasizes the challenge of sifting through mass amounts of reporting, as well as conflicting perspectives from various news outlets (think MSNBC v. Fox News - a whole different universe!). It sets the ominous tone from the moment you purchase your ticket.

I don't have any personal memories about the Vietnam era, as I was too young, but this show creates the feelings that all parties were having. The Eleventh Hour Final, 1968 by Edward Kienholz asks "What can one man's death, so remote and far away, mean to most people in the familiar safety of their middle-class homes?" and recreates the 70's living room that most sat around their black and white t.v.s and got their news of the war. The title refers to the last news hour of the day, and also gives more of that ominous feel.

Vietnam, 1967 by Phillip Jone Griffiths was one of twelve of his gelatin silver prints, all of which show the actual humanity among the people living in the war theater. Incredibly touching, all of them made you feel that the soldiers and the Vietnamese citizens got along and seemed to like each other - and, as always, they were following orders from old, white, dangerous men that would never be personally affected by it. So sad. So disgusting. SO evil.

We all know the famous poster War Is Over! If You Want It, 1969 by Yoko Ono and John Lennon, but this was its origin. Ono and Lennon were not having the Vietnam War, and this poster release followed their infamous "Bed In" to protest the war. I wonder what Lennon would think of these modern times? We could sure use him now .... Imagine.

Carol Summers contributed Kill For Peace, 1967 (from the portfolio Artists and Writers Protest against the War in Vietnam), showing families dealing with this tragic war.

Next to it was one of the heaviest ones for me, that made me physically nauseous. The Art Workers' Coalition. Active 1969-71 asked the horrific question Q. And Babies? A. And Babies., 1970. UGH. THIS is what those evil, old, white men don't seem to care about when concocting their wars for profit. War is Hell.

Equally rough was Untitled (The New York Times, Sunday, September 13, 1970), 1970 by Liliana Porter. It's especially moving as it takes the viewer from the macro to the micro, from the generic to the personal. She is You. She is Me. She is US - and that's what makes war so hard to understand. It takes the humanity away ... but Ms. Porter brings it back.

Big Daddy Paper Doll, 1970 by May Stevens shows yet another depiction of the bald, white, old cigar-wielding nemesis to society that creates war. Taking up an entire wall of the room, her point is clearly made.

Corita Kent had a wall of six screenprints, all Day-Glo bright, in what the Catholic nun called "advertisements for the common good." yellow submarine, handle with care, right, phil and dan, stop the bombing, and news of the week (all 1967) take the look of commercial packaging to pack their punches.

Political posters really took off during the Vietnam War, and Eat, 1967 by Tomi Ungerer is one of the very memorable ones. Force feeding the Statue of Liberty down a Vietnamese person's throat doesn't leave much room for ambiguity ... and the U.S. government doesn't seem to have learned much in the decades since.

This next one is hard for me to even type out, but Flag For The Moon: Die Nigger, 1969 by Faith Ringgold. She makes visual commentary (and the title is there in the work) on the fact that African Americans were fighting our war, while being the victims of racism at home. The country was spending massively on space exploration, while ignoring our black citizens. Oof. I told you it was heavy. And TRUE.

1A, 1972 by Timothy Washington was a statement on the destruction of the draft. "1A" meant you were available for war ... and the defaced draft card embedded in this piece says "John Doe" and the 1A status is listed as "forever". UGH. I'll just never understand war, ever.

Untitled, 1967 by William Copley asks us all to THINK. Please.

Yoko Ono was represented again in a film being played on a t.v. called Cut Piece, 1964/5, where Ono invited audience members to approach her and cut off a piece of her clothing.  People had to choose how to respond ... stop, interfere with, or escalate the action ... much like what was happening in the country with the war. The piece was performed just weeks after Marines arrived in Vietnam, and raised those above questions that needed to be asked. Ono has always been provocative - and smart.

Reading Position for Second Degree Burn, 1970 by Dennis Oppenheim is a photograph showing the artist in the before/after five hours in the sun with a big volume of military field tactics covering half his torso. This was to comment on the U.S. soldiers shown basking in the tropical sun while Vietnamese citizens were being burned by napalm. Oh my gosh. It's really hard to be a proud American at show like this. Seriously.

Jim Nutt offered Summer Salt, 1970 is a play on words for "Some assault". Civil unrest and media accounts of the human toll informed this work, and though it's bright and cheery looking - the content is quite the opposite.

Now, if I thought this show was incredibly heavy and tough to take in, I can only imagine what veterans of this awful war feel like. There was an elderly man in the gallery, sitting alone, seemingly in reflection. He got up to take a closer look at Target Practice, 1968 by Peter Saul (who meant it to be a "cold shower of bad conscience"!), and I got a lump in my throat thinking about what he must be thinking. I don't know if he was a veteran himself or not, but he was visibly moved - as was I. The museum had a room set aside for silent reflection if people needed it ... and I think it probably gets a lot of use. 

A huge piece taking up another entire wall was Vietnam II, 1973 by Leon Golub. He was a vocal activist before using the war as a theme in his work, and intended the large scale of his work to equal the "grotesqueness" of the U.S. military might. That was a great word for it - and still is. Maybe even more so. WILL WE EVER LEARN?!?!?!?

Judith Bernstein created A Soldier's Christmas, 1967 to protest the war, mimicking the graffiti she saw from soldiers. It depicts a woman's spread legs, adorned with Christmas lights, graphic in both word and image. Bernstein said of the work, "I wanted to make the ugliest paintings I could. I wanted them to be as ugly and horrifying as the war was." She sure succeeded.

Chicago was a key hot spot during the war, producing many artists and activists against the invasion. A whole room is pretty much dedicated to trashing LBJ, from LBJ, 1967 by Dominick Di Meo (a Chicago organizer and artist). LBJ is depicted atop a mountain of human skulls, in a none too subtle pointing of the finger.

LBJ Butcher, 1967, also by Di Meo, was even rougher, and were printed on actual aprons meant to be worn in street actions and public protests. Think about all of the Trump merch out there these days ... again, we haven't come very far in this area at all.

Another Chicago artist, Ralph Arnold addresses bigotry, social injustice, and the Vietnam war in his collage titled Above the Earth, Games, Games, 1968 portrays football players against U.S. soldier in Vietnam, to show how the media would attempt to normalize violence. Oh, Men ... you sure have wrecked a lot of lives.

Tet Inoffensive, 1968 by Ed Paschke looks like a photo collage, but was hand-painted. Butch Cassidy and John Wayne are alongside the famous Eddie Adams photo of a Vietnamese general shooting a Vietcong guerilla in the head and Ho Chi Minh smoking. All the tough guys. Ruining lives and the world. I was getting madder and madder the more I saw.

At first glance, Madame Nhu's BarBQs, 1963 by Wally Hedrick seems like a folk art sign for a deep south restaurant. Until you realize that it's about Thich Quang Duc, the Buddhist monk that set himself on fire to protest the Vietnamese government's oppression of Buddhists. Madame Nhu was a member of the South Vietnamese ruling family, and at the time publicly said that she was "willing to provide the gasoline for the next barbeque". Can you imagine being such a repulsive human being? Does she even get to be called a human being? No. She doesn't. Do not rest in peace, Madame.

Edward Kienholz was back with The Non-War Memorial, 1970/1972, an imagining of the thousands of soldiers killed in the war ... that he wanted to place in a chemically destroyed field in Idaho to portray the same destruction that had been done to Vietnam. It was an unrealized plan, but still cool.

Kim Jones created his "Mudman"  persona after serving in Vietnam. He walked Wilshire Boulevard for 18 miles from sunrise to sunset, and back again, wearing his structure of sticks covered in mud, to evoke the red dust of Vietnam. He confronted passersby with the reminder of the just-ended war, that for many like himself was still going on in their minds. His Mudman Structure (large), 1974 is there at MIA, bringing us all right back - to the future.

Humanscape 43, 1968 was by Mel (Melesio) Casas, a leading member of the Chicano art group, Con Safo. He had served and been injured in the Korean War (we never learn), and had learned that lesson himself. "The skills of war are killing," said Casas, and he also rightly believed that the war was financially motivated - like it almost always is. Gross.

The war ultimately ended, but its consequences resonate still. The show finishes with depictions of Southeast Asia today, addressing the exodus of its citizens, and the seemingly tranquil country of Vietnam today. Sixteen panels by Cy Thao represent the Hmong Migration, 1993-2001. The bright, cheery panels trace the history of Hmong people from their origin story to their immigration to Minnesota.

While in refugee camps, Thao saw others making "story cloth" tapestries, he saw the power of pictures to tell stories without words. Once you know your history, you can understand the world and your place in it a whole lot better, and Thao was hoping to give some closure to the generations that lived through the war.

Pipo Nguyen-duy ends the show with his modern photographs of life in Vietnam. Icarus, Father and Son, My Brother, and Bubbles, 2005-11. The photographs look happy and fresh and now, but upon closer examination, his brother is missing an arm from the war. Life goes on, but scars of war remain.

This show is very extensive, and though I know this story is long and seemingly comprehensive, it isn't. Hardly. There is so much more important art to see than what I have included here, made even more important by the storm clouds of war gathering again today in the news. This is the last weekend to see this gut-punch of a show curated by the Smithsonian American Art. There were slips of paper to write what this exhibit made you feel, and then hang with the others on the wall. So many of them said something like I have here ... Will we never learn? Have we not figured out that no one wins in war? The inclusion of so many female artists and Southeast Asian artists responding to this nightmare of American History make this an even more impressive - and inclusive - undertaking. I have a feeling it's going to stay with me a long, long time. Please go if you are able.

Artists Respond: American Art and the Vietnam War, 1965-1975 ends this Sunday, January 5th.

MIA
2400 3rd Avenue South
Minneapolis, MN 55404
(888) 642-2787
visit@artsmia.org

BLASPHEMY! Starbucks Opens On The Venice Boardwalk.

It's an absolutely beautiful perfect day in Venice, 76 and sunny, everyone looking and feeling great as I cruised down the Boardwalk on my morning visit to the ocean. There have long been rumors that a Starbucks was going to take over the space vacated by the Venice Freak Show, but no one ever thought it could really happen - not here in Venice, one of the most unique places in the world that actively shuns corporate interests and homogenization. But it has. The doors are now open for business at Starbucks (THE symbol of gentrification) in the Freak Show space, in what is the biggest possible slap in the face to a community perhaps ever. Anyone who thought this was a good idea is sadly out of touch with reality.

The business that was the MOST perfect Venice Boardwalk attraction possible has been replaced by the LEAST likely place to ever be welcome in this town ... and people are upset. I'm upset. WHO thought this would go over well? I believe Snapchat is still the landlord of the building, so we'll continue to despise them and wish their stock to fall ever lower in a karmic comeuppance that is celebrated by Venetians every time we hear of a new low. Whenever I see someone grown putting one of Snap's stupid filters on their face, I lose a little respect. Seriously. But, STARBUCKS?! On the BOARDWALK?! This is war.

There was a security guard (what coffee shop needs a guard? They know we don't want them.) holding court outside the place (as I'd NEVER step a foot inside), and I asked if it was open. He replied that it was, and I nearly cried. I told him this was outrageous and to please tell his employer that we don't want them here and they are not ever going to be welcome. I know some misguided people like their Starbucks coffee, but if I ever see anyone from Venice going into this location, there's going to be words. If you must have that swill, there are plenty of other locations that don't spit in the face of Venice. A Starbucks on the Boardwalk was always a joke, like yeah right, that could never happen. But here it is. It's times like these that you really miss the V-13.

It was quiet when I was down there, with maybe one or two tourists going in, but I'm hoping this is the calm before the storm. The storm of outraged people who love Venice and realize that this seriously puts the entire history and legacy of Venice on the endangered list - if not quite extinct yet. The storm of protests that greet this corporate behemoth every day they open their doors. The storm of a backlash so big that it puts this Starbucks location out of business before their lease is up.

Starbucks just wrecked my beautiful morning, and I'm pissed. People are making signs of protest as you read, and I hope that you will give this terrible joke of a space the double middle fingers every time you pass by - until it's gone.

UGH.

Venice Skatepark Vandalized

OK. This is not good.

The Venice park was vandalized sometime last night. The investigation has begun anyone who knows anything please contact Jesse Martinez or Parks and Rec ASAP. 👊🏼✌🏼

A post shared by Dan Levy (@juicedan) on Apr 15, 2017 at 8:30am PDT

WHO in their right mind would vandalize the Skatepark?! All the work that it took to get built (See the Made In Venice movie), all the work that it takes to maintain it (Thanks to Jesse Martinez), and all the goodness it brings to kids and the Community, and someone is going to come in overnight and slegdehammer off the coping?! I can't even imagine how mad the Venice Skate Alliance is right now, and I can't imagine what's going to happen when they find out who is responsible. But I can begin to.

You know what though? Legends don't even need coping. So there.

Please relay any information about this to Venice Park and Recs down by the Skatepark. This is bad. 

*Top Photo by Juice Dan Levy/Juice Magazine
*Bottom Photo of Jesse Martinez by Bill Ferrell

A Vietnam Memorial Visits Venice

When I arrived at the beach this morning for my foggy walk, I was greeted by the sight of a replica of the Vietnam Veterans Memorial in Washington D.C. Hmm. I'm not quite sure how I feel about this "Wall That Heals" being put up right in the middle of where so many people came to protest the Vietnam War ... and also where so many vets of that war have been left homeless and uncared for by the very country they went over there to protect.

There are two veterans that stand with their signs on Lincoln Boulevard at the entrance to the 90 Freeway almost every morning, and they could probably use the time, money, and energy spent on a small scale fake memorial far more than tourists needing to snap yet another picture of a copy of something many haven't seen in real life.

I've been to the real memorial in D.C. and all I felt was sad and angry, that so many lives were lost over such a corrupt endeavor ... and it's still happening. I've been very aggro this week (and apologize if I've come off as gnarly, but I feel SO strongly about making our world better, not worse.) , almost in a panic to get people out to vote and pretty much caucus-shaming them if they didn't ... because I can't sit by and be passive and silent and complacent when today's climate almost guarantees more war unless people can wise up and elect someone that actually truly does want to try something new - and obviously Senator Sanders is the only one even trying.

I've also been to the Walter Reed Veterans Hospital in D.C., and it changed me forever. It made me vehemently anti-War, and passionately pro-Humanity. I saw soldiers freshly blown up, scrambled, and pieced back together, with nothing but disillusion in their eyes. This was not what they had signed up for. And the vast majority of these soldiers were "minority" or from underprivileged backgrounds ... the very people still being tormented today by Republican front-runners and their followers, and even the Police who are meant to protect us all, but so often target the ones with darker skin. And it's not right. And I can't help but say something every time ... and wish more people did.

I walked by the memorial replica this morning, and got unexpectedly emotional. Not at the sight of an aluminum wall that super pales in comparison to drama and emotion of the real one (kind of like seeing the Statue of Liberty at New York, New York in Vegas), but at the very scary thought that this really could happen all over again. If we're not careful. If we're not vocal. If we don't exercise our rights to vote and choose sane leadership. I don't know how "Healing" this wall of pain can be ... but at least there's a little mobile museum there to try and make people think.

I walked away, a bit uncomfortable at more reverence being shown for a fake wall than our fellow citizens sleeping in its shadow. I think we'd do better honoring our Veterans by taking care of them when they get home vs. carting a memorial replica around to remind us of how we've failed so many of them. Whatever goes down in this country, I'll still be the one putting flowers in rifles to honor those who fought my kind of fight before me.

The Wall That Heals is on display at the beach through March 6th.

Steve McCormick And Studebaker At The Cinema Bar

I was feeling all bad yesterday because I wasn't able to be with my Mom on her 75th birthday. I'm taking off next week to hang with her in Minnesota, but still. Then I remembered that it was my friend Steve McCormick's birthday too, and he was going to be celebrating both his happy day and the release of his new EP, The Laws Of Love, with his band Studebaker and a whole bunch of Venice friends at The Cinema Bar. I just knew that would make me feel better. I was all the way right.

McCormick and everyone he plays with are truly musician's musicians. Like when you're around them, it's on another level, like when you're around IT guys and they talk about tech stuff ... you can't really wrap your head around what just comes totally naturally to them. It's heavily impressive.

The Cinema is tiny, so you're right up close to the expertise. The sound is never great, it's really too small for it to resonate like it should. Having said that, you're totally immersed in it, and that IS great. It was a bluesy kind of night, and that meant we got to hear our great pal, Stan Behrens (WAR), blow on his harmonica all night long. This guy. Not only is he a liver transplant survivor, but one of the best harp players in the world, who rips harder than ever after his new lease on life. Plus he's just a wonderful human.

All of Studebaker's members are top top notch, from Steve Postell's total shredding on guitar (that he plays very high and tight), soloing like Steve Vai in that little room, to Eric Lynn on the keys (and an amp he had to tape together last minute), it's clear that you are in the presence of masters of their craft. From the grit of the Chicago blues to gorgeous ballads of love (in fact, I feel like I might have seen two people catch each others' eyes for the first time and fall instantly in love - but I might be projecting...), every last note was a pleasure to absorb.

By now, my high spirits were restored. I went in the bathroom and in a bit of synchronicity of thought, right in the middle of the door was this graffiti, telling me what I already know.

Happiest of Birthdays to Mom and Steve! And thanks so much to Steve and Studebaker for the music, and for the elevation of us all of us Venice folks and friends that crammed into that room. Music heals.

In Memory Of Tomas Young

American warrior and IVAW Vet Tomas Young died today. I spent a couple of the heaviest days of my life with him in Washington D.C. in 2008, learning so much about what the costs of war truly are. I'm re-running the story of those days today, in his honor. Rest In Peace, Tomas.

Also, his letter to filthy Cheney and Bush is a must-read:  

http://www.truthdig.com/dig/item/the_last_letter_20130318

Iraq Veterans Against The War.  Of all the organizations we've worked with thus far on the Justice Tour 2008, this is the one that I now wish we had held the show the second day.  Because we met a bunch of the guys at The Black Cat in Washington D.C. at the show, but we had not yet visited the Walter Reed Hospital, which we did today.  Had we seen what we saw today by show time ... I think it would've been an even more powerful celebration of these fine men, and definitely more angry.

I met Garett Reppenhagen at the show, the first active duty member of IVAW.  He told me then that he had started an anti-war blog while still in Iraq, even though that was a risky thing to do in the current military.  He was investigated, of course, and wound up being honorably discharged - probably just to shut him up - but I can tell you, that will not work on this guy.  He's very well spoken and tells his and his comrades stories quite readily.  When interviewing him after the show, I was intrigued when he said the first time he felt "support for the troops was when he heard about the peace movement.  According to him, the best way we can "Support Our Troops" (a nice bumper sticker, but what is that driver really doing about it?) is to do all we can to get them home.

For us, that began by joining them this morning to visit the Walter Reed VA Hospital in Washington D.C. We met in the lobby of our hotel, and when I said yesterday about the show that the tone of it was heavier, I had no idea what I was talking about yet.  Today would be one of the heaviest of our lives.

The Nightwatchman and friends (Breckin Meyer, Wayne Kramer, Dave Gibbs, Ryan Harvey, myself and my brother, Paul, plus Deyden, our charity organizer) joined Tomas Young, the subject of the gripping documentary, "Body Of War", as well as Garett and Geoff Millard from IVAW on a bus ride to the hospital.  Passing through the beautiful Georgetown neighborhood is very misleading in D.C. ... they say the crime rate in D.C. is astronomical in the areas surrounding the groomed perfection of the tourist areas, but I'd say our nation's very WORST crimes are master-minded dead center - in The White House.  Today confirmed that to be spot-on.

Garett gave us a bit of a briefing on the bus ride, saying no cameras or journalists were allowed inside still (Why?  What are they hiding?  Or are they just nervous of the American people seeing the many horrific injuries and searing pain, both physical and mental, that festers inside, and RIOTING to put an end to this insidious war for profit?  I suspect that to be the case).  I wasn't worried about not being allowed to take notes ... what I saw is burned on my brain forever, and we only saw what we were allowed to see.  Garett said we should expect to see burn victims, amputees, and that some people may have just arrived a day before, fresh from the Hell hole our President created.  We would not be seeing the ICU, and they won't even let the kidney patients in there, because the rats, roaches and mold previously found there would be too large an infection risk.  The hospital did not know that IVAW guys were coming, they just knew that Tom Morello from Rage Against The Machine was coming by with some friends to visit with our brave soldiers wounded in the line of duty.  I'd think RAGE vs. the MACHINE would give them some pause, but nope.  

We were met at the entry to the gigantic complex by a very cheerful guard who smiled big and said, "Welcome to Walter Reed, Home of Warrior Care!", and after checking our i.d.'s, we were waved through.  We passed a sign that said "Kid's Fest, This Sunday!" and "Staff Appreciation Day - Yay Staff" or something like that.  Frosting on a shit cake.  We met our guide, a pretty, smiling woman who greeted us with p.r. perfection, and went inside.  You enter the lobby and are immediately surrounded by all the usual corporate suspects:  Subway, Dunkin' Donuts, etc .. in a food court.  There are big flags and pictures of high-up military general guys all over the place, because you know, it's a really patriotic place.  As sanitized and normal-seeming as it was, I found myself glancing around for buzzards.  Because of all we know (and may never know) and feel about this war, the place feels sinister in your gut.  

We all crammed on an elevator together to head to the 6th floor, where it had been prepared for us to visit.  This is normally a very chatty bunch, but not today.  All we could do is give each other furtive glances and tight, uneasy smiles of support.  I was wondering how Tomas felt, as this was his first visit back to Walter Reed since he was a patient here, on the same floor.  He revealed nothing on his face, and I continued to admire his strength.  The elevator door opened and we went to the nursing station to introduce ourselves.  They had been expecting us, and had that air of excitement when people know they're talking to someone famous.  They all wear fatigues and address each other with "Lieutenant" and "Major" and "Sir".  Our guide told us we could go in three or four at a time to the rooms, and that each time we would put "goop" on our hands to sanitize them and lessen infection risk.  We gooped up and Tom, Wayne, Tomas and I entered, pretty much holding our breaths. 

I'm not going to use names, because I don't know that they would want me to, but the first room we entered was tiny and squished in the corner on a little hospital bed was an older man, with a sweet smile and ears that stuck out, making him seem like a little boy in an 47 year old's body.  He had a bandaged stump on his right leg, which would raise in the air whenever he moved a little.  He did not recognize the guys, and just seemed happy to have any visitors at all.  He'd been a career military man, got out and became a mortician, missed the military so signed up for the National Guard, never thinking he'd be sent to Iraq.  But he was.  He was involved in an explosion, but outwardly was fine, so they told him to take some Motrin and he'd be fine.  They didn't look closely enough though, because a blood vessel was pinched behind his knee-cap and his was in constant and excruciating pain.  5 years of this, and 15 surgeries later, they took his leg this past January.  He went back and forth between "Why me?" and "It could've been worse, I could've been blown up" and back to "Why me?  The Lord must have his reasons".  He said, "It's Staff Appreciation Day here, but none of them is here appreciating me." He has family, but never talks to them about his mental anguish, because he doesn't want to worry them, and no one can possibly understand anyway.  Tears rolled down his cheeks (and mine), and Tomas told him that HE understood, he'd been a patient right down the hall.  The man's eyes widened up, and they shared stories of Sadr City and Kirkuk.  Tomas told gently told him about IVAW and gave him his personal phone number, saying that if he ever needed to talk to someone, to please call anytime.  "Well, I sure appreciate that ... it's hard.  It's hard."  It was hard just to witness, so I can only imagine what he's struggling with internally. Tom gave him a t-shirt and a c.d., Wayne thanked him for his service, I tried not to openly cry in front of him, and we all shook hands and headed out for the next room.  Our friends were waiting in the hall with wide eyes, and I couldn't even speak yet, just shake my head and regroup for the next one.

All gooped up, our next visit was with a young man who had been a medic in Iraq.  He looked pretty good, in gym shorts and shirt.  Until he pulled up his shirt and showed us his open shrapnel wound in his belly that looked to be held together with a kind of black duct tape. His team had been walking and a suicide bomber went off.  He was able to stay conscious just long enough to tell his buddy where his morphine and bandages were, and then woke up two weeks later with a gaping hole in his gut.  He said, "It's bad over there, and it's only getting worse. The first time I went, they were happy to see us.  The next time they had more sophisticated bombs.  The last time they weren't happy to see us at all". Yep, the surge sure is working.  We really can't believe a THING the government is saying about this War, that much is clear as a bell.  He knew Tom and gladly accepted a signed shirt and c.d., saying he loved music, and had been listening to a lot of reggae lately, as it makes him feel happier.  Tomas rolled in and told him that he was the subject of the film soundtrack we'd just given him, "Body Of War", and that he was now working with a group of Iraq Vets Against the War.  With not a second of hesitation, the guy said, "Sign me up!"  Geoff Millard came in and gave him an IVAW poster and a copy of their newsletter, but The Medic seemed nervous to take that.  He said he'd read it and put it under his mattress.  Geoff invited him to come and hang out at the IVAW House not far away, and the guy said "I'll definitely call.  We can get lunch, I've been wanting to go to this Tex Mex place" ... and I have a good feeling that lunch will happen soon.  I hope it's soon, because as soon as he's fully PHYSICALLY recovered, he's supposed to ship back out, to Afghanistan this time.  A reminder that the clock is ticking and we need to step up efforts to get this War over with, before it takes back the already unbelievably suffering young men who have given enough already!

Goop.  The Medic had been pretty chipper, aside from wincing in pain periodically.  The next guy was not.  He was laid out in bed, with his Mom and Wife hovering around him with concern in their eyes.  He had been hit by an IED (Improvised Explosive Device), and shattered his femur and a bunch of other stuff.  He had a big metal bolt like thing sticking out from under the covers, and seemed very doped up and tired.  He recognized Tom and Breckin, who had joined us.  Apparently "Road Trip" is very big in the barracks.  Once again we were told how bad it is over there, and how he has no idea how it could get any better.  He said all sorts of trouble and support is coming out of Pakistan, but you never hear anything about that.  Frankly, you never hear anything in the news about any of it.  Corporate media, in cahoots with this administration, don't want you to see the faces and maimed bodies, or hear about the horror movies that are these guys lives, because then we as a people wouldn't put up with it anymore. So much for free speech.  I took a photo of Tom and Breckin with the young (almost all were 25 or younger), and it hurt just to see the guy attempt a grimace of a smile, while his wife and Mom tried their best to appear normal and happy.  He and his then girlfriend, now wife, had a fight and broke up, and that's when he joined the military.  I bet his wife will regret that fight the rest of her life, and it's a reminder that this war is hurting so many people on the periphery as well.

The strong medicinal smell of the hand sanitizer and the sickish smell of pain and suffering did not leave us all day.  The bright fluorescent lighting everywhere made it all the more garish and exposed.  We were about to head to another floor, when the guide said a guy was waiting who was very excited about Tom.
We entered a room where a crinkly-eyed smiling Samoan guy was, surrounded by his wife and little daughters.  His face lit up when he saw Tom, who had no way to shake his hand, because they were all bandaged up.  He was very covered up, so we're not sure what all was wrong with him, but he looked very scrambled, with black wounds peeking out of his bandages.  Ugh.  He had been in the military since the 80's and said that American Samoa is heavily recruited by our military, and he had, ironically, joined to get the "good health benefits" and be able to provide for his family.  He kept saying, "It's really, really bad over there, really really bad".  He did not have to elaborate, when you saw the grief on his face and totally messed up body.  But his smile was wide, especially when Tom signed a shirt for him.  Tom asked him what he would do about it all if he was the President.  He said, and he was very well spoken, "Well, I'd have used diplomacy first, and tried politics ... but it's too late for that now.  We need to pull out all the troops, and just leave some to protect our base.  The Iraqis need to sort it out themselves, because they just think of us as invaders now, so it's only going to stay bad as long as we're there."  General Petraeus must have forgotten that part in his recent testimony.  He was a hard one to leave, since as bad as it was, he just wanted to be a good guy, you could tell.  Watching the young daughters be silent and well-behaved as they looked at their beat up Hero of a Daddy was tough.  And it just got worse from there.

Before we left the floor to head down to another one, the nurses had Tom sign some paper for them, and then handed a stack of printed out Google photos of Breckin to him to sign.  Both of them were happy to do it, but I think it all felt a little silly signing things for laughing nurses when there was so much pain and anger and wrongness about the place.  It was hard to lighten up.

Taking the elevator down a few floors, we got out, greeted some workers and then were led down a hall to a room where they told Tom a huge fan of his was.  A big strapping blond mohawked man sat in a wheelchair, grinning when Tom came in.  He had been in a Humvee accident just the 13th of April, the beginning of this tour!  It had flipped over (they were speeding, and it sounded like it was their own fault) and he was in the gunner's seat on top.  The way he talked, slow and searching, and the way he'd change the subject out of the blue, led you to believe there was some brain damage, which he confirmed.  Of all the guys we met, he was the only one who thought things were getting better in Iraq, but he also came off as one of the reckless, gung-ho guys that got into it all for the adrenalin.  And he had a brain injury, so that might also explain that (really the only good excuse these days).  He was a big fan of Rage and Audioslave, and loved Breckin and "Road Trip" too, wanting to know about Tom Green and if he's really that crazy.  His wife was there, clutching a picture of their four year old playing "Guitar Hero 3" for Tom to sign.  They were thrilled to meet Tom, and had a photo taken with him and Breckin. This guy echoed the sentiment that many did, that you feel guilty, and kind of want to go back to Iraq just to check that your buddies will be ok.  After this heavy-metal guy, things felt a little lighter, but that was not to last long.

We met back up with Wayne, Dave, Paul and the others in the hallway, and were told we had one more guy to visit with what our time permitted.  Paul, knowing me and my being prone to tears said, "You might not want to go in there", which made me nervous.  Tom, Tomas, Breckin and I went into this young man's room (only 24) and said hello.  He talked very slow and lethargically, so it was hard to hear him clearly, but I thought he said something about an IED blowing up and injuring his femur.  I thought he was in a recliner or something underneath his covers because I didn't see his legs.  It slowly dawned on us that he had been blown in half, and had nothing below his belly button, from what we could tell.  He pulled down the covers a bit, and showed us how his hip was at an outward angle AND he had a spinal injury.  He told us that "to tell you the truth, I kind of feel like they're experimenting on me here, since they've never seen anyone with all three injuries".  His Mother and cousin were there, and you realized that they'd all be dealing with this the rest of their lives ... including his baby who was to be baptized the next day.  He was supposed to be fitted for something called "Shorties" that afternoon (prosthetic slip on legs that make you like a little person height) but wasn't looking forward to it since it hurt so bad the last time they tried.  He looked at Tomas in his wheelchair and asked what he was doing now, as if to wonder what there could be left in life for him.  Tomas told him he worked with IVAW and there was a documentary he was the subject of ... and the kid, though heavily drugged, said, "Oh, yeah?"  You saw a little light go on, like maybe there would be something left for him after all, if this guy who'd shared the same floor at Walter Reed was now rolling with rock stars and movie actors.  Tomas told him about IV AGAINST the War, and you could tell the kid was mixed about talking about that.  Maybe it was too fresh, or he wasn't comfortable talking about that under the nose of the military, but when Tomas said, "I'm usually up all night and I can't sleep, so I'm going to give you my number and you can call anytime."  The kid said, "Yeah, isn't that weird?  I can't sleep either.  But Mandy Moore was here last week and gave me her number, so I'll probably call her. You want it?"  We all laughed at that gallows humor, but that was about the only thing to laugh at all day long, and just then to break the tension.  He was injured when his crew was clearing a road to make sure it was clear and safe for some visiting diplomats.  His buddy was decapitated in front of him, so he felt lucky.  He was torn in half to protect the very guys who put him in that situation!  I was shaking.  We gave him the shirt, c.d. and signed poster, plus the info on IVAW and thanked him for his sacrifice.  I just wanted to get out of there before I screamed out in rage.  Tears were running down my face and when we got out in the hallway, I saw Kid Lightning and he was in the same shape.  We walked down the hall arm in arm along with the rest of the gang, and Garett asked if I was ok.  I don't feel like ANY of us are ok!  How can we as a nation be at all ok when our young men and women are over there being split in two or worse for NOTHING?!  For PROFIT?!?!  That IS what's happening, whatever you want to say or think about it ... and that IS also what the soldiers feel is happening.  Tomas signed up for the military two days after 9/11 to help in the fight against terrorism and Osama Bin Laden (Who?  We never hear about that search anymore, do we?).  He was paralyzed after only 5 days in Iraq, but said that if it had happened in Afghanistan, (where he felt the battle should be, and still does) he'd be bummed about it, but would feel like it was for something, and he would not be in a documentary or involved with an anti-war group.  But it didn't.  It happened in a place where our government wants the oil and Halliburton is war profiteering and war crimes are rampant ... on and on and on, until none of us WILL be ok until the war is ended and the entire current administration is convicted of war crimes. And only then will we be able to look the world in the face and say we're STARTING to be ok.

So we thanked our guide and silently got on the bus.  Slowly, we all started talking about it all ... everyone just sick to their stomachs, with sadness, shock, and righteous anger.  As Tom said, "No one knows about this stuff, no one ever sees it!"  So we're telling you.  And hoping you will start asking to know about it, and to see it for yourselves.  I KNOW that if access to these guys and their stories were readily available, the pressure for this war to be over would mount until they had no choice.  Garett said, "If it never ends, we never lose."  In my opinion, we've been losing the whole time, but it never felt this tangible until today at Walter Reed, "Home Of Warrior Care".

The next stop on our agenda was the IVAW House, where Vets against the war can come to organize, stay, get counseled by their peers, or just hang out and watch t.v., so they know that they are not alone.  Geoff told our bus driver, "Just look for the house with all the anti-war propaganda on the lawn".  And there it was, a big old house in a sketchy-ish neighborhood.  We all filed in, lifting Tomas up the steps in his chair.  From the moment you step in the door, you get it.  The "You are not alone" posters paper the entryway, and other posters and stickers are everywhere.  My favorite was "My kid fought in Iraq so yours could party in college".  That about sums up the reality of it all, and our tendency to be Ostriches about the hard stuff in this country ... as long as there's cold beer and a game or American Idol on, it's all good.  But deep down, every last one of us must know that it's not good at all.

We had a tour of the house (entirely paid for by small donations, and now a badass Justice Tour show the night before!), seeing the rooms of the 5 guys who live there now, and their "most important piece of equipment in the house", a punching bag.  There was a computer room and a room where the Homefront Battle Buddies meet - a group that meets for peer support regarding mental health issues, since the VA seems to either deny it or drug them up instead of dealing with it, and the suicide rate of vets and soldiers is now up to 18 a day!  This house seemed more and more crucial by the second.

We all ate lunch together, and listened to the IVAW guys speak about the history and strategy of their organization.  They feel that if they take away military support for the war, it will have to end, and that seems obvious, but the challenges are many because the military makes it very easy to get in (even taking KKK members, gang members and drastically lowering height and weight standards as the willing and able pool is drying up), and very hard for soldiers to get out.  Which is all the more reason why this group is so important - to let enlisted soldiers know that they have anti-war support among their peers makes is safer and easier to do something about it.  As Geoff said, "This house does more for veterans than the entire VA System".  And you can feel it.  They want to make the military choose between having a military at all, or having this unjust occupation.  The more you listen to them, the more you feel that they and WE can do it.

All the while, Geoff's little beagle, "Resistance" was running around, and they told us that Resistance is a certified PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder - the military uses a lot of acronyms) Counselor.  She has many clients, I'm sure.

The IVAW has three main objectives: 
1) Immediate withdrawal of ALL occupying forces in Iraq - and 
    that includes Halliburton.
2) Take care of all Veterans (Hey McCain, why won't you sign  the GI Bill when you're such a war hero?  Hmmm ...)
3) Reparations for the Iraqi people.  We are grossly indebted to this country we've destroyed.

That all seems perfectly logical and do-able to me.  While we're at it maybe we can improve our OWN country with all the money we're currently using on committing daily crimes against humanity, which includes our own soldiers.  Five new members signed up for the IVAW between the Justice Show and Walter Reed today.  And the movement just keeps growing.  They're sick of being USED as the reason to perpetuating this war, ala "We need to keep at it so the soldiers feel like they can be victorious."  B.S.  These guys will have a strong presence at the Political Conventions this summer, which will be good to raise their profile.  As will all of us talking about it and promoting it.  We OWE them that, at the very least.

They thanked us all for coming, and Tom for choosing their organization as the beneficiary of the D.C. stop on the Justice Tour.  Tom thanked them for EXISTING - the fact that they got organized and built their group makes it easier for other soldiers  - and we civilians who see the injustice for what it is - to speak out and do something about it.

We loaded back on to the bus, and rehashed it all together a bit, but mostly looked out the windows and thought about all that we'd experienced.  What a day ... and we only VISITED, we don't have to LIVE the nightmare of this war, every day for always.

After a quick breather, it was time to head to the Amnesty International Annual Meeting, where Tom was going to present awards to some members out there fighting for human rights and justice.  We couldn't get the Walter Reed guys out of our heads, so sat around backstage sharing it all with some AI folks.  That's a start ... the more we talk about it, the more people know about it.  That betters the chances to get people involved in DOING SOMETHING ABOUT IT.  Tom gave a lovely speech for the Amnesty people, telling them about what the Justice Tour is all about, and how activism and music can work together to DEMAND Justice, especially when working in harmony with all the fantastic organizations we've been learning about so far on this amazing, adventurous, eye-opening tour.

After the meeting, Tom split off to meet up with Dave and Breckin at the CUBS/Nationals game.  I needed a break, and some time to reflect, so I went back to Georgetown to get some dinner with Paul, Carlos the Tour Manager and Deyden and Jamie, our lovely charity organizers.  We all needed a drink (or three) after the heavy metal drama of the day.  We got those, which somehow gave us a second wind.  

Paul had never been to D.C., so I told him he at least had to see the Lincoln Memorial and the steps where Martin Luther King, Jr. gave his historical speech before we left early the next morning.  As we paid the cab driver and crossed the street to walk up the Memorial, my phone beeped.  It was Tom, asking how the bar was, but saying, "We're at the steps where MLK gave his 'I have a dream speech'".  I looked up the steps, and there they were ... we'd all had the same idea at the same time in the middle of the night!  I think after the disgust and disgrace of seeing what our government has inflicted on its own people (and a country that never did anything to us) in this immoral and criminal war, we all needed to remind ourselves of what we are SUPPOSED to be, for ourselves and for the world.  Abe had it right, Martin had it right ... and they were both killed for it.  It is up to us to carry on those ideals, and that great dream.  I have tears again now at how far astray we've gone, and can only pray that we can find our way back, and right our wrongs.  We looked out at the Washington Monument from the very spot where MLK's speech was given, and I know that in each of our hearts, we felt the need to honor that flag that flies over our nation's capital, and never stop fighting for Justice.  

Memorial Day Peace

There is so much more to Memorial Day than just another day off at the beach ...

But as I WAS riding to the beach, I came upon this yard sale. It's so perfectly Venice, but also served as a lovely reminder that there are so many soldiers that we hope are also resting in peace. I have many conflicted thoughts about our military and the war actions put forth in our name, but underneath it all is the fact that families have lost loved ones forever.

This one's for them.

PEACE!!!

Eclispse Quartet/Jenny Holzer Mash Up at L and M Arts

L and M Arts continued hosting their finissage events with an evening of string quartet music by the Eclipse Quartet in the West Gallery, alongside Jenny Holzer's LED screens scrolling her messages in time to the music, to wrap up the exhibition of her The Future Please show.

The Eclipse Quartet performed Different Trains, written by Steve Reich for the Kronos Quartet in 1988. It's a powerful piece of music, as it documents Reich's train travels across the United States as a kid at the same time the trains were transporting human beings toward the camps in Europe during the Holocaust. Not light or easy listening by any means, and its 27 minute length is just about exactly right.

Recorded words accompanied the music, as the LED screen messages blazed across our eyes, so brightly that you sometimes had to close your lids and just listen. It's a lot to take in.

The first movement was "America Before The War", very upbeat, hopeful, maybe even a little proud and boastful, with phrases like "the crack train from New York" (with special * in the program that "crack" USED to mean "Best" back in the day - ha) and "one of the fastest trains" being repeated.

The second movement was "Europe During The War" and had a much scarier, doom feeling, with a more frenetic pace and a lot more ominous screeching. The words on the front set up of screens all had to do with Baghdad and redacted data and more modern war-related problems. Thus, the repetition of the music and the recorded words and the information on the screens surrounded you with the truth that ALL war is senseless and we're just repeating ourselves in different times in different parts of the world. All the time. At least that's what I took from it.

(I was there with my friend Jessy, who is a professional violinist. She thought that the piece was powerful in that "The out of tune, weird pace was annoying, but it was inspiring at the same time. And I appreciate that it was short." Ha!)

This time the words being repeated were "They were loaded with people" and "They tattooed a number on our arm" and "Flames going up to the sky - it was smoking", with air raid signals going off. Uggghh. You felt helpless and thwarted watching and listening, like "Will we EVER learn?!"

Then the third movement, "After The War" came along and it was hopeful again, and somewhat relieved. The music became more melodic than chaotic, more upbeat and happy, with the excitement you get upon arrival somewhere and the train whistles that go along with that. Though the music was more light-hearted and lovely, it was also wistful, with phrases like "but today, they're all gone" and "There was one girl, who had a beautiful voice" and "And when she stopped singing they said, 'More, more' and they applauded."

And so did we when the music then ended abruptly.

We applauded and stood to leave, and right as I was about to walk out the door, I saw a phrase go by on the sign that said, "Your consolation is that this might be the truth."

I'm not so sure I feel consoled, but I always prefer the truth.

Thanks and CHEERS to L and M for continuing to provide us with insightful, educational, and inspirational moments. What a treasure we have right in the middle of our neighborhood.

L & M Arts
660 South Venice Blvd.
Venice