Unlikely 2.0


   [an error occurred while processing this directive]


Editors' Notes

Maria Damon and Michelle Greenblatt
Jim Leftwich and Michelle Greenblatt
Sheila E. Murphy and Michelle Greenblatt

A Visual Conversation on Michelle Greenblatt's ASHES AND SEEDS with Stephen Harrison, Monika Mori | MOO, Jonathan Penton and Michelle Greenblatt

Letters for Michelle: with work by Jukka-Pekka Kervinen, Jeffrey Side, Larry Goodell, mark hartenbach, Charles J. Butler, Alexandria Bryan and Brian Kovich

Visual Poetry by Reed Altemus
Poetry by Glen Armstrong
Poetry by Lana Bella
A Eulogic Poem by John M. Bennett
Elegic Poetry by John M. Bennett
Poetry by Wendy Taylor Carlisle
A Eulogy by Vincent A. Cellucci
Poetry by Vincent A. Cellucci
Poetry by Joel Chace
A Spoken Word Poem and Visual Art by K.R. Copeland
A Eulogy by Alan Fyfe
Poetry by Win Harms
Poetry by Carolyn Hembree
Poetry by Cindy Hochman
A Eulogy by Steffen Horstmann
A Eulogic Poem by Dylan Krieger
An Elegic Poem by Dylan Krieger
Visual Art by Donna Kuhn
Poetry by Louise Landes Levi
Poetry by Jim Lineberger
Poetry by Dennis Mahagin
Poetry by Peter Marra
A Eulogy by Frankie Metro
A Song by Alexis Moon and Jonathan Penton
Poetry by Jay Passer
A Eulogy by Jonathan Penton
Visual Poetry by Anne Elezabeth Pluto and Bryson Dean-Gauthier
Visual Art by Marthe Reed
A Eulogy by Gabriel Ricard
Poetry by Alison Ross
A Short Movie by Bernd Sauermann
Poetry by Christopher Shipman
A Spoken Word Poem by Larissa Shmailo
A Eulogic Poem by Jay Sizemore
Elegic Poetry by Jay Sizemore
Poetry by Felino A. Soriano
Visual Art by Jamie Stoneman
Poetry by Ray Succre
Poetry by Yuriy Tarnawsky
A Song by Marc Vincenz


Join our Facebook group!

Join our mailing list!


Print this article


Soy solo palabras but wish to be a city by Leon De la Rosa illustrated by Gui.ra.ga7

We are now pleased to offer Soy solo palabras but wish to be a city, the graphic longpoem by León De la Rosa and Gui.ra.ga7, as a downloadable .pdf. We offer you the introduction by Donna Snyder:

León De la Rosa is the quintessential fronterizo, blending and describing his life on either side of the Mexico/U.S. border in multiple art forms in multiple languages. And when the blend is less than seamless, he limns the mismatched fragments of life with a kryptonite gold leaf and makes you call it beauty.
A fronterizo is someone of and from the frontera, the border. León grew up and attended school on both sides of the Juárez/El Paso urban area—an area of some two-plus million people crowded on each side of the twice-named Río Bravo/Río Grande, on either end of a short walk across a bridge, rendering such things as political boundaries superfluous. He also breaks and reconfigures the lines between his total fluency in both Spanish and English, both visual art and literary art, both written and spoken word.
León is a highly educated and sophisticated reader of world literature, yet is always in the vanguard, pushing and breaching every boundary he confronts. His performances combine aspects of spoken word, installation art and "videopoemas," often collaborating with videojockeys who are "spinning" and manipulating both digital and three-dimensional images. Sometimes images are projected behind or on his own body as he performs his rants and poems. The visual and verbal aspects fluently transition back and forth among the media: text, video, images, performance.
León, with a masters in multidisciplinary studies from the University of Texas at El Paso, lectures in art at the Universidád Autonomo de Juárez. Along with his illustrator, Gui.ra.ga7, he curates The Gun Gallery in Juárez and performs regularly both there and in El Paso. He is the product of academic and intellectual approaches to the literary and visual arts, yet his spoken word performances reflect his long time dominance of the El Paso/Juárez slam poetry scene. His performance at the 2010 Conference of the Association of Writers and Writers' Programs in Denver blew the roof off the joint, blasting the international audience into the stratosphere, educating them on the realities of life in EP/Jz, triggering their stereotypes and then exploding them, one after another, like verbal Molotov cocktails. León has effectively transcended the limits of what is fine art and what is street art, and he has not bothered to ask for permission.
Those audiences lucky enough to hear him live experience a sonic barrage in three languages: Spanish, English and code-switching Espanglish, soon to be the pan-cultural demotic of modern society. Although he is an academic, I don't think the writers and intellectuals in León's audiences see him as an artist of the academy. I think they see a bad, bad Mexican boy, with a black leather jacket and unmitigated rage, who lives daily in a city that is currently known as the murder capital of the world, with its years of mass murders and assassinations, in both the drug wars and the grisly serial murders of women and girls.
León grinds our faces into the grime of the squalid poverty stemming, as always, in grotesque injustices and gross disparities in access to common necessities, the things that make life livable and worth living: food, sanitation, health, homes, education, jobs, the arts. Leon has to traverse a harsh and mortally dangerous terrain every day, where safety and peace are vague memories of a less dystopic reality.
This is a very particular time, the beginning of the 21st Century, and León is from a very particular place. There is despair and anger enough now to fill our prisons as fast as the two states of Texas and Chihuahua can build them. León's ability to express this catastrophic destruction and despair in such compelling form makes him a rare individual. He is a gifted citizen of the new 21st Century world, flourishing and wielding every tool at his disposal to translate that world into intelligible meaning.
The last few decades have seen an upsurge of interest in the use of graphic books. Originating in the action comics of the 20th Century, this art form has begun to dominate our films and our popular culture. The illustrations of R. Crumb's stories, originating in the underground comics of the nineteen sixties and seventies, are now seen regularly in New Yorker magazine. Hollywood's attempts to make movies from Alan Moore's spectacular graphic novels have generated massive aesthetic and moral controversy while greatly popularizing the art form. But León is one of a small handful who has claimed this format for poetry.
León's work is political in every way. For a boy growing up in the world of daily mass murders and haunting femicides, a region of people starving and dying from lack of potable water and access to health care, the very act of giving voice is a political act. As a man, his poetry internalizes all these complexities: lingual, political, and artistic, and creates one powerful whole. León wanted to be a city and maybe he's only a word, as the title of his book suggests. But his sphere is the transnational, multilingual, multicultural 21st Century and he knows how to speak the language. There is no one better to show the world how it's supposed to be done.

Grab the print edition combined with Monolith by Anne McMillen!


E-mail this article


Page not found | Unlikely Stories Mark V

Page not found

The requested page "/11/delarosa0311.shtml" could not be found.