Free live music and stuff in Bilbao, Vitoria and Las Palmas, September 2024

We spent the first week of September in Basque Country. Here are some exhibitions we’ve seen in Azkuna Zentroa / Alhóndiga Bilbao, Plaza Arriquibar, 4, Bilbao:

• 6 October 2022 — 29 September 2024: «Ur aitzak»
  Six sculptures by Elena Aitzkoa, in collaboration with artists Josu Bilbao and Leo Burge.

  

• 20 June 2024 — 6 January 2025: «Allora & Calzadilla: KLIMA»
  Works by a collaborative duo of visual artists Jennifer Allora (1974, USA) and Guillermo Calzadilla (1971, Cuba).

  

...and in Artium Museoa, Francia Kalea, 24, Vitoria-Gasteiz:

• 10 May 2024 — 22 September 2024: «Artxiboa/Archivo»
  The documentary collection of Néstor Basterretxea (1924—2014).

  

• From 31 March 2023: «Bilduma Hau Colección. Movimientos elementales (1950—2000)»
  Works by Gabriel Aresti, Isabel Baquedano, Néstor Basterretxea, Gabriel Celaya, Eduardo Chillida, María Franciska Dapena, Esther Ferrer, Luis Peña Ganchegui, Agustín Ibarrola, Cristina Iglesias, Itziar Okariz, Merche Olabe, Jorge Oteiza, Blas de Otero, Álvaro Perdices, Juan Antonio Sistiaga, Susana Solano and others. Read more here.

  

• 26 April — 29 September: «Unform»
  Works by Patricia Dauder.

  

Back to Las Palmas — and to live music.

• 10 September: «Ars Polyphonica» @ Casa de Colón, Calle Colón, 1
  Camerata Iberia featuring Gabriel Díaz (countertenor), Juan Carlos de Mulder (lute) and Carlos Oramas (vihuela). The programme included:
  1. Pierre Attaingnant: Tant que vivray
     Luys Milán: Fantasía VIII
     Jean-Baptiste Besard: La voila la nacelle d’amour
     Josquin des Prez: El Grillo
  2. Luys de Narváez / Diego Ortiz: Passamezzo antico
     Juan del Encina: ¿Quién te traxo, cavallero?
     Vincenzo Capirola: Ricercar alla Spagnola
     Anonymous (from Cancionero de Palacio): L’amor, donna
     Juan del Encina: Levanta Pascual
  3. Josquin des Prez: Mille Regretz
     Anonymous: Et in Spiritum Sanctum
     Josquin des Prez: In te Domine speravi
     Bartolomeo Tromboncino: Voi che passate qui
     Anonymous (from Cancioneiro de Paris): Não tragais borzeguis pretos
  4. Anonymous/Cristóvão Falcão (from Cancioneiro de Paris): Pois tudo tam pouco dura
     Fabritio Caroso: Spagnoletta
     Juan del Encina: ¿Qu’es de ti, desconsolado?
     Juan del Encina: Folias

  Llibre Vermell de Montserrat: Mariam matrem virginem (encore)

  

• 17 September: «Tríos de corno di bassetto en la Viena de Mozart» @ Casa de Colón, Calle Colón, 1
  Mayrhofer Trio featuring Eric Hoeprich, Kayo Nishida and Alejandro Fariña (basset horn). The programme included:
  • Divertimento No. 3, KV439b
    Allegro
    Menuetto
    Adagio
    Menuetto
    Rondo
  • Arrangements for three basset horns
  Der Vogelfänger bin ich ja (Die Zauberflöte, KV620)
  Ein Mädchen oder Weibchen (Die Zauberflöte)
  Marsch der Priester (Die Zauberflöte)
  Voi che sapete (Le nozze di Figaro, KV492)
  Non più andrai, farfallone amoroso (Le nozze di Figaro)
  • Duets for two basset horns, KV487
    Allegro
    Larghetto
    Menuetto
    Polonaise
    Allegro
  • Divertimento No. 4, KV439b
    Allegro
    Larghetto
    Menuetto
    Adagio
    Rondo

  Menuetto from Divertimento No. 4 (encore)

  

• 19 September: Ángel Ravelo & Dani Cano @ Museo Castillo de Mata, Calle Domingo Guerra del Río, 147
  Another concert from the cycle «12 Noches de autor»; another mixed bag. When I thought it was all over and I was ready to leave, both cantautores performed the very last song. Turned out, Ángel Ravelo plays sax really well.

  

• 28 September: Ensemble DifrAcción @ Conservatorio Superior de Música de Canarias, calle Maninidra, 1
  This concert was a part of the IV Festival Contemporáneo del Festival Internacional de Música de Canarias. Featuring Pablo Araya (violin), Verónica Cagigao (percussion), Laura Delgado García (oboe), Pablo Díaz Estrada (flute, pito herreño), Gustavo Díaz-Jerez (piano), Ciro Hernández Perdigón (cello), Ewa Moszczynska (viola) and Francisco Suárez Hernández (clarinet); conducted by José María de Vicente. The programme included:
  • Leandro A. Martín: Tal traje saliva (première)
  • Laura Vega: Like a tiny drop of dew (ensemble version)
  • Gustavo Díaz-Jerez: Yajna (première)
  • Olivier Messiaen: Abîme des oiseaux (clarinete solo)
  • Tristan Murail: Cloches d‘adieu, et un sourire (piano solo)
  • Toshio Hosokawa: Drawing
  I already commented on the state of ventilation in this auditorio a year ago. No, it didn’t improve. On top of that, when the concert was over, we (the audience) discovered that the gates were locked. It took about 10 minutes for the security guard to locate the spare set of keys and let the crowd out, to the roaring applause.

And that was it for September.

Hágase tu voluntad

a film by Adrián Silvestre

Ricardo wants to die. He lost his beloved wife, Carmen, he suffered two strokes and is depressed. Before dying, however, he wants to speak to his two sons — one of them is the film’s director — whom he didn’t see for more than 20 years. The reason for their separation is never adequately explained. Maybe it shouldn’t be.

I do sympathise with the protagonist although at no point did he strike me as a particularly nice person. He clearly needs to be the centre of attention, now that the family unites around him. While he wallows in nostalgia and self-pity, Adrián’s mother, who’s been caring for her ex-husband for years, feels abandoned. (We’ll probably never know how did Ricardo treat Carmen.) When Adrián accompanies him to start a request process for euthanasia (this is the only scene in the film spoken in Valencian), Ricardo seems to be taken aback by apparent simplicity of the whole thing. Is it that easy?

In the beginning I thought, here comes another “let’s make a documentary about my parent” project in the vein of Une vie comme une autre or Muchos hijos, un mono y un castillo. (Indeed, in an interview, Adrián Silvestre quotes the latter film as an inspiration). It turned out to be a completely different affair. No more spoilers, just let me say that Hágase tu voluntad is worth watching for the final scene alone.

The Informer

a film by John Ford

Now it’s hard to understand why in 1936 this unthrilling thriller won four Oscars. Probably the weakest of John Ford movies I’ve seen so far but hey, those were the early days of awarding. Victor McLaglen is good enough as a leading man, for a while, and there are some comic moments in this otherwise pathetically predictable feast of over-acting.

The Informer was screened at the Aula de Cine of the University of Las Palmas de Gran Canaria as a part of the John Ford cycle (September—December 2024).

Tabu: A Story of the South Seas

a film by F. W. Murnau

This 1931 classic was shown as a part of the cycle Tiempo de memoria, memoria en el tiempo, organised by Instituto Canario de Desarrollo Cultural (ICDC). The picture quality of this restored version, in almost square aspect ratio, is surprisingly good, given that the original negative was lost.

Tabu was the last film by Murnau: a week before its première, he died as a result of a car accident, at the age of 42.

Free live music and stuff in Las Palmas, August 2024

These are a few things that we’ve seen in August. Sketches by Tamara.

• 10 August: LPA Groove Summer @ Auditorio José Antonio Ramos, Parque Doramas, Las Palmas de Gran Canaria
  • Nala Rami, a band led by Alan Imar Rodríguez Mitchell (vocals, sax, flute), accompanied by Carlos Artiles (bass), Kilian Barrera (drums), Marta Herrera “Holly” Hollingsworth (vocals), Luis Sánchez Guerra (keyboards) and Leonardo Segovia (guitar).
  • A new incarnation of D’Local Groove with Miqui Delgado (piano, keys), José Carlos Cejudo (bass), César Martel (trumpet), Luis Merino (guitar), Javier Montero (drums), Miguel Ramírez (sax, rap) and Alba Serrano (vocals).
  • Eddie Roberts & The Lucky Strokes featuring Ashley Galbraith (bass), Taylor Galbraith (drums), Shelby Kemp (guitar, lead vocals), Eddie Roberts (guitar, vocals) and Chris Spies (keyboards).

  

• 22 August: «Iberia» @ Centro Atlántico de Arte Moderno (CAAM), Calle de los Balcones, 9
  Sergio Sánchez presented “electroacoustic concert with experimental sounds from social environments” of Iberian Peninsula. In my book, standing behind his laptop, even if pressing occasionally some keys, does not count as a concert, but well. There was no other visual support, so I was bored beyond belief. This performance was closing the cycle CAAMSonora of which I was blissfully unaware until now.

  

• 22 August: Jesús Garriga @ Museo Castillo de Mata, Calle Domingo Guerra del Río, 147
  I couldn’t listen to «Iberia» for longer than 15 minutes and left for another concert (the real one) from the cycle «12 Noches de autor».

  

• 23 August: Notas de Verano en Colón: Ana Falcón & Alba Rodríguez @ Casa de Colón, Calle Colón, 1
  A double bill of two young Canarian cantautoras.

  

And exhibitions, all of them seen in CAAM before «Iberia»:

• 20 June — 1 September: «Toda utopía pasa por la barriga»
  Works by Carlos Garaicoa (Havana, Cuba, 1967).

• 4 July — 6 October: «Legado»
  Works by Juan Hidalgo Codorniú (1927—2018).

  

• 18 July — 29 September: «Artistas en residencia»
  Works by Adriana Frutos and Gregorio Viera.

Looking forward to September already.

Todo eso que no sé cómo explicarle a mi madre

by Sandra Bravo

I truly wanted to love Todo eso. Starting with the title and the phrase in its very beginning [1, p. 11]:

Si «cisgénero» te suena a chino, «poliamor» a orgías de pervertidos o eres mi madre, consulta el glosario que encontrarás al final de este libro.

I was looking forward to a blast of a book.

“But,” interrupts the perspicacious reader. “I can distinctly hear ‘but’. You wanted to love it but.”

The thing is, during the past few years, I read and enjoyed a number of books on the topic [2—6], some of them good and some others pretty damn good. Perhaps inevitably, I judge Todo eso against a rather high standard. So let me continue, and you’ll see if there’s a ‘but’.

We read for different reasons. One of them is to increase our knowledge. In this sense, there was little new for me to be learned from this book. (This is not the author’s fault.) For sure, there were new names, new books, a couple of concepts that I never read about in Spanish before, etc. etc. However, talking about genuinely new (for me) ideas, I would name one, coming from Luce Irigaray [1, p. 64 and clarified in the footnote 54]: Amo a te / J’aime à toi / Amo a ti, awkwardly translated to English as “I Love to You”.

Another reason is to see the author’s perspective and check how much (or how little) we have in common. I found myself agreeing with many of Sandra’s opinions — say, on homonormativity or sex work — and was glad to encounter references to familiar works, e.g. Yes, we fuck! [1, p. 115].

Yet one more reason to read is simply to take pleasure in it. Todo eso, in part, fulfilled the promise to be a fun read. Of course, it could be that this promise was imagined by me. I enjoyed the Chapter 2, Confesiones a la Virgen de una desvirgada, the most.

It’s OK to cherrypick. This is not a novel, not a prog-rock album, not a “take it or leave it” menú del día.

Now what could have been done better?^*

• Citations, citations and more citations. Sandra quotes profusely from a variety of (mostly feminist) writers. Sometimes the passages take more than a half of page, sometimes more than two pages [1, pp. 52—54, 102—104, 111—113]^†. What for? In many cases, they are long-winded and boring bits of text, clearly meant to support the author’s arguments. As it happens, these latter are enunciated much better, in short sentences and a lively language.
• Solution: I’d say, ditch most of the quotes, shorten the essential ones, leave the references in the footnotes (as they currently are) and let the reader decide if they want to dig deeper. Naturally, the book will be twice as short then, about 100 pages. Good!
• For a such a short book it’s quite repetitive. Sandra goes on in loops about her privileges, her sexuality, cisheteropatriarchy and her idea of feminism which is also anti-racist, anti-capacist and anti-capitalist. No matter how important these issues are to the author, repeating makes them less so to the reader.
• Solution: saying once is enough; cut the repeats, maybe we’ll have 80 pages or so in the end.
• In spite of all “own experience” and “being an exhibitionist” spiel, Sandra shares surprisingly little of that experience. For instance, she writes [1, p. 79]:

  He tenido sexo con centenares de hombres cis, y no muchos me han sorprendido. En cambio, mujeres sexualmente desinhibidas, aunque inferiores in cifra, eran mucho más abiertas, creativas y libres de complejos.

  Hundreds of men, what a perseverance! I guess most would give up after the first half dozen of them. Still, at least some of those cis men must have surprised the author, why not to tell us? And what about those “lower in quantity”, higher quality women? Alas, she doesn’t go much beyond generalisations like above.
• Solution: a few real-life anecdotes to illustrate the author’s points will do wonders as well as pad the book up. Spare us the graphic details; these examples don’t even have to be about sex. Check out Más peligroso es no amar [3] and Mujeres que follan [6] for inspiration.
• Now we are coming to the most cringeworthy part: Chapter 7, Y lo más importante de todo, ¿cómo le explico yo esto a mi madre?, in particular Carta a mi madre. This last chapter confirms my worst fears: Ms Bravo indeed has no clue how to explain the titular “all this” to her mum. Why on earth did she choose the open letter form then? It’s painfully embarrassing to read. How about just talk to her mum or, failing that, write a normal (closed, personal) letter?
• Solution: do us a favour, lose Carta a mi madre.
• Finally, the bit that was in fact promised: the Glossary. What a disappointment! Typically, authors include glossaries to provide the reader with definitions in order to avoid terminological confusion. Here it seems to exacerbate the confusion. The terms patriarchy and queer, Sandra says, are difficult to define. Instead of explaining attachment in her own words, she “clarifies” it with yet another abstruse quote which actually describes attachment theory (without defining what attachment is). In the entry for LGTBIQ+, she writes that if you don’t know what a “lesbian” or “gay” is, you’ll have difficulties understanding her book. Family is what a heterosexual couple achieves after practicing intercourse without a condom for a period of time. And so on.
• Solution: make the definitions clear and concise. (Like the author’s definition of feminism: a fight for the elimination of any kind of oppression. It’s not required that everybody agrees with them.) Define basic concepts such as sex and gender before moving on more complex ones. Avoid emotional comments and finishing sentences with “vamos” — there’s whole book for that kind of thing. Make sure that the use of the terms in the main text is consistent with their definitions.
• By the way, (ab)using the term “person” and avoiding “woman”, as is done in the Glossary, does a great disservice to feminism. Not that Sandra is unaware of it: elsewhere, she describes how replacing “gender violence” with “domestic violence” is employed by the far right to invisibilise the problem [1, pp. 47—50]^‡. She also emphasises the need of safe places specifically and exclusively for women, not persons [1, pp. 114—115].
• Solution: the obvious one. Say “man” or “woman” when needed.

See? There are problems; I suggest solutions. And did I use the word “but” (apart from right now, that is)?

I doubt that the author, in the unlikely event of reading this post, would heed my free and disinterested advice. Which is a bloomin’ shame really.

*	Everybody has their own criteria of what is “good” (and, by extension, “better”). Some readers might have liked the bits that bothered me the most. As this is my blog, I express here my opinions what is better for the reader.
†	I wonder if the author is conscious that the sheer length of these citations is stretching the right to quote a tad too far.
‡	Clara Serra explains this brilliantly in her Manual ultravioleta [5, chapter 16].

References

1. Bravo, S. Todo eso que no sé cómo explicarle a mi madre: (Poli)amor, sexo y feminismo. Ediciones Plan B, 2021.
2. Casquet, N. and Andyn. Mala mujer: La revolución que te hará libre. Lunwerg, 2020.
3. Etxebarria, L. Más peligroso es no amar: Poliamor y otras muchas formas de relación sexual y amorosa en el siglo XXI. Aguilar, 2016.
4. Requena Aguilar, A. Feminismo vibrante: Si no hay placer no es nuestra revolución. Roca Editorial, 2020.
5. Serra, S. Manual ultravioleta: Feminismo para mirar el mundo. Ediciones B, 2019.
6. Teruel, A. Mujeres que follan: Historias de sexo real contadas por ellas. Libros del K.O., 2023.

Record of a Spaceborn Few

by Becky Chambers

I enjoyed The Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet and A Closed and Common Orbit. With this sidequel of sorts, though, I was up to disappointment.

Like CCO, the novel is written as a series of short unnumbered chapters named after their (recurring) protagonists. So all of them are called either Eyas or Isabel or Kip or Sawyer or Tessa. Great for navigating. In the first half of the book, there is practically no connection between the five plotlines; also, no plotlines to speak about. It doesn’t help that all five characters are dull as ditchwater.

The language irritates me no end. The use of politically correct “xe/xyr” pronouns started grating on my sensory organs in the first two books already. Here, the abuse of monosyllabic vocabulary (cred, hex, hud, kick, mek, scrib, sim, vid, vox, etc.) makes the text ridiculously reminiscent of Joey’s “sup with the whack” classic — except it is meant to be serious. Every time a character says “stars” (Exodan equivalent of “heavens to Murgatroyd”), which happens roughly every other page, you’ll want to roll your eyes. As if this wasn’t enough, RSF will drain the life out of you with its endless moralising.

Let’s be fair: it is not all bad. The best bit is a chapter called Eyas where — guess who? — a woman called Eyas goes to one of the tryst clubs, which apparently are part of Exodan welfare system. I liked it. I think everybody would be better off if the author wrote a whole book just about that.