DIY Book Workshop at I'klectik

The Minesweeper Collective organizes a DIY Book Workshop 

sat 11 & sun 12

One Market Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest !!!

For ADULTS & CHILDREN 

(£10 -> email-us for booking) ! 

Learn to do a book 

(papercut, screenprinting, bending & binding) !

Have a look

HERE

 

Indignata Jones & Wonder Barbee in Residency !!! (June 2015)

"Passion & Pain"

We were so pleased to welcome two great artists in residency aboard the Minesweeper : Wonder Barbee & Indignata Jones.

Journey in Mexico ~ Chapter Three ~ Joe Fur Long

San Cristóbal de las Christmas (part 2)

“The Revenge of Don Juan”

The time ticked slowly on as I sat alone silently sipping my mezcal and munching my borderline burnt baguette. Now that all the work was done, I felt slightly lost. Was I happy, relieved, nervous? I remembered the exact same feelings from our first show at the Undercurrents – was it enough promotion?, there´s loads of things on this weekend, are the bands gonna show up? (classic one). I looked around the room for the hundredth time to make sure the images hadn´t fallen down and the dodgy double sided tape (no blu-tak in Mexico) was doing it double-sided mission of both sticking to the wall and my highly valued - but still pretty cheap in Stoke Newington if you supply your own watercolour paper - portfolio prints that were definitely NOT for sale. What was for sale however was more crazy hats (which I managed to sell four of as I was waiting for 200 pesos each). I also had my drawing cards I use in London for donation or exchange.

The exhibition itself was a varied show. I had my favourite drawing and photos of murals completed in the years before at festivals etc, featuring also the body art work I do with Happy slap Boutique at Boomtown Fair Festival. As well as this was some of the works from Tulum and the solitary months in the Caribbean to try and expose a contrast between the London inspired themes and works before I knew of places as beautiful as Mexico, crossed with the work done here away from that world. The difference I could now see was that clear in the older pieces yet not from new stuff was I focussed more on subject matter and trying to prove a point with the work, less attention to graphic detail but more on impact and surrealism. The topics, which always carried some weight back home when hung here heralded the tone of a deathbed repenter, trying to scream at the world rather than exhibit inside it. The work completed here I noticed for the first time carried a more inquisitive nature, more attention the construct of the piece and playful, seemingly made by someone humbled and in awe of life rather than trying to mess with it. After some serious chin-stroking I suddenly had no time to ponder this as suddenly, magically, crowds started rolling in to the venue, scarfs pulled over red noses and peering into the gallery space

Relief is my favourite human emotion. Love is pretty good of course, and hope etc, but pure, raw, un-cut, RELIEF really hits the spot for me. Probably because I am such a stress-head. I felt this miraculous emotion in all its soothing sexiness as I saw the jolly groups of people who´d chosen to come down and check out the weird güerro´s art show and adjoining live music which turned out to be one of the most popular acts in San Cristóbal de las Casas – phew…

I got to work on the Live Art and socially explaining the pieces as best as I could as my Spanish was still pretty bad. My translated explanation of the Minesweeper project however was gaining attention and was causing those who read it to look closer at the work and pull friends over to see also. Everything was rolling. For a bit or variety I wanted to do a free-style live art piece, without much subject matter but more as some fun for the crowds around me. Anyone who spoke to me I asked to give me something to draw into the piece and with ideas ranging from an old tree to a superhero who does not know why he is a superhero with no superpowers, the piece had the desired effect and created many nice talking points. A beaming smile was hanging from ear to ear as I knew already it was a turning out to be a success. My first foreign solo show. Good vibes, and it still had more days to run!

Another collective was invited for the night and was running a stall at the front of the venue with stickers, screen-printed books and posters all on donation. I liked them immediately, really nice crew called Tapatista from Guadalajara in the middle of the country. Their work was political and shared the same DIY dynamic as Minesweeper – they ran a self organized social centre in their city where they lived, worked and printed as well as organizing local events for the community. After chatting a bit I learnt that they have an event coming up, the second installment of ZINFUTURO a DIY , auto-prodiction festival in the same vein as Crack! Festival in Rome. They invited me to come and show my work and print at one of the studios nearby . I accepted.

The music had started and the party was going full on in the other room, live dubstep and reggae-hophop styles from Macka B da local Mc with da dreads down to his knee. Turntablism too and a really great female vocalist but I can remember her name… The crowd were cool to full of boozed-up Christmas cheer and I was happy to see lots of locals there too not only travelers. That’s what I like about this venue, due to its political and socially minded events it bridges the gap which was always quite apparent to me between tourist/traveler/eurohobo and the local communities who lived in these beautiful places. I was dancing my arse off, was a wicked set and I could tell the venue were happy also with how it all went. Was an interesting Boxing day! Was a great feeling, basically everyone I knew and many of whom id given a flyer too that I didn’t know before were there, and all the effort felt 100% worth it. After this point in the evening I can´t remember too much more of what happened in any real detail as there was a lot of mescal flying around but all went really nicely, I think we went to an afterparty but I might be confusing that with new year… What´s important however remains – the show was a triumph and the venue were happy to continue. Yes mate.

The days after were very pleasant, dipping in and out of the venue to say high and straighten things etc and wander around in the post-Chirstmas-pre-New Year bubble of alpine Chiapas. I felt like doing some new things. I had heard about a shaman called Don Juan who lived in the surrounding mountains and had Temazcal ceremonies (and others) on his land. Now I had heard a few things about this man before, a friend of mine saying he had seen him make rain stop by throwing his coat at the clouds and another telling me he was also a black belt in Kung Fu. Intrigued, I decided to mission up to the land on New Years eve with some guys I had met in town who were from the notorious northern bordertown of Juarez (one living in Juarez, studying in El Paso USA). The more experienced of the two claimed that this shaman had changed his life and he was now his disciple, the other had never done this before either so I decided to stick with him as we approached the land. The idea of a temazcal is this. You and many other people cram inside a hand-made mayan sauna and through the intensity of the hot coals, really load chanting and expression of inner feelings ( as well as some un-described “medicine” that gets burnt on the coals) your spirit, mind and body are completely cleansed – Just in time for New Year! ¿Sounds great, No?

After an hour or so of walking we arrived at the compound and a small group was already there chanting and collecting firewood. The lad was beautiful looking over the town and the rugged beauty of the mountains all around made me feel very happy to be there. There were huge stones in the middle of the pit and the well-crafted flames engulfed them turning them red hot. The structure of a small hut was standing close to us and I helped everyone cover it this with multiple layers of very thick fabric. A truck approached down the hill and everyone around became hushed and excited. It was him. I was imagining some kind of priest -like figure with a pet eagle or something like that but he was actually just quite normal looking. A small man with a big ranch hat and boots climbed out and approached us. He definitely had a presence though I´ll say that. He walked over, blessed the fire and started talking about a large rock as if it was a large turtle - I suppose it did kind of look like a turtle. I didn’t quite understand but everyone else seemed to smiling, but after he blessed us all and the place in general he went away to my disappointment. I asked myself why, but I guess I just wanted to see some magic deep down but I was left with a very clam and controlled feeling over me as we all stripped down to our underpants and crawled inside the hut.

What followed was really, really intense. I imagine most saunas have limits on how hot they are are but even after about 5-10 minutes after introductions were made this grew to be so stiflingly hot that I thought my skin was melting and my finger nails curling and burning off my finger tips. With the chanting, talking (which to be honest I could really understand which didn’t help much) and whatever it was burning on the coals the whole time (my diagnosis: salvia) my mind in the pitch black started going into some very strange places to escape the heat. I had the strange sensation I was switching dimentions in order to get myself into a more powerful position to handle the environment I was in, but in a fashion a bit like a pre-teen girl skateboarding for the first time. When it came to my turn to speak I sweatily babbled something along the lines of “thank you for accepting me inside this mountain and I have no problems but some questions with the life today” and started chanting, curling in a ball and kneeling upwards to try and gain cool air that was not there – this lasted a VERY long 2 hours, with the door occationally being opened so more coals could be brought in, in case we ran out. By the last half an hour, I had accepted in my delirium that I was probably about to die here in this sweat lodge and that there is no way at all my foreign system will ever recover from this ordeal and the burns inside my nostrils and eyelids would ever heal back to the way they were. Everyone around me, young and old were screaming, crying, shouting or praying in the darkness – I was screaming too, tongue flailing toward the roof, I couldn’t take anymore! This was it! The end of Joe´s weird life in an even weirder situation: Sweating to death in a salvia trip in my boxer shorts!!… But then, miraculously, the door opened and it was over. I WAS TO LIVE! I crawled out, my eyeballs rolling in my head still as I neared the fire to cool down. As I stood up felt faint and nearly fell over. Everyone started hugging each other, probably elated as I was that they had also survived and we all ate fruit and dried off). I sniffed the foul liquid that had been sucked out through every poor pore of my body. It smelled of London, cheap alcohol, pavement, cigarettes, stress, free parties and boats. I was a new man! I was high like snowtopped mountains are however so I could not really figure out what the effects on my reeling mind were in any kind of long term cleansing sense but I can say I felt really good to be out of that odd hut… I shook hands and thanked the guys who invited me there . “We´re going to another one tommorow, man, 4 hours this time! Wanna come?” . “Fuck that!” I replied beaming and slowly, after saying my goodbyes, I edged slowly down the mountain and made my way home.

I did learn something else about temazcal effects first hand though that New Years Eve. It resets you in a strange way. Also tolerances… Of course, being new year, I did drink a hell of a lot of Mezcal and partied till the next day – but strangely my normally resolute body rejected this totally and I was sick like a dog the next day. Like a REALLY sick dog! My body could not handle any liquid of any kind, I had a raging fever to the point I was hallucinating in my bedsheets begging the stars for just one drop of water to stay in my cursed body for more than 5 minutes!! This continued for about 5 days, it was really cold too. I went to see a healer in the town and she asked me about the days previous... I explained about the temazcal and the heavy duty New Year also and she looked at me as if I had just poured salt in my coffee. It turns out that intoxication of any kind after that ordeal is a really bad idea. She explained you are supposed to rebuild yourself again into a stronger being than before slowly as you have been brought back to square one in many senses, otherwise it can have a bad effect on you (as I experienced…). I wonder if this was what Don Juan was saying to the turtle rock…

After that wore off I went about my business as usual, and arranged to have the exhibition extended for another two weeks which the gallery were happy to do. With this bonus I quickly jumped into Guatamala with Raf for a 5 days to renew our Visas and came back safe and sound (bit of a brutal edit there but yeah was mainly hiking and horse riding, some dickhead stole my coat but to be fair I did leave it on a chair, Guatamala is really beautiful though…)

There were other art related events on too in San Cristóbal on our return and I went to check out what was happening in a new project slightly apart from town called ´Arteria´. It was a beautiful piece of land with two large house built onto it divided into two gallery spaces with workshops, live music, dance and food downstairs served in the beautiful courtyard. It was a foreign money place and amazingly well spent! The theme was African dance and abstract artwork but what was really cool was the carved jade skulls and sculptures on show around the venue. The project had only been open a very short time and this was one of the first events, but clearly years of effort had gone in to turning this place into a real art palace, it had space for stone turning specifically as well as a huge kitchen and workshops for young people also. Really beautiful and I left wishing to be able to come down and see what could be possible in this space another time. But we had missions to continue: on to Guadalajara! Three days drive away in the state of Jalisco. The proud home of tequila and the noble blue agave, as well as the beginning of the barren deserts of the north of Mexico. I did one last temazcal just to freshen up before I left (seriously! and stayed sober afterwards for a week! much better) and after saying our quick but heartfelt goodbyes to this beautiful town which had been home for 2 very happy months we packed everything into the trunk of ol´Jetta and got the funk out of there…

To be continued…

Journey in Mexico ~ Chapter Two ~ Joe Fur Long

Hurtling south through the Yucatan peninsula was one of the most liberating and exciting moments of my life. In the newly christened ´Jetta/Badboy´ clocking 100kph through lush tropic scenery with all the fun, weirdness, solitude and of course rinse-out comforts of the Caribbean disappearing fast behind in the wing mirror, a sense of the epic nature of what lays ahead of us started to become apparent.

Being a GÜERRO (not gringo luckily) driving in Mexico is not for the fainthearted. You stick out - even in a beaten up VW that looked local but also, to be honest, as if it had been stolen in an 80s US cop drama. Rule 1, the actual cops are crooked. Easily payable in a tight situation, but can make your life living hell if they want. Normally 3 days without food in a shared jail cell for any minor offense or inabililty to pay comes as standard, but also car impoundment and drugs planting for extortion are not unheard of. This federal police system is divided into Municipal, Federal and Army forces. The latter two are not really too much of a problem as they are only looking for drugs and firearms (unless you have drugs or firearms both of which we were not packing) and really don’t care about much else. The ´Pinche Pendejos´ (fucking cheeky dickheads) are the municipal – underpaid, under-regulated local lads and dads who are as corrupt as their municipality allows them to be, but of course without a decent income to support a family there are always the perks of the job to be had from most situations. It’s the fault of the state itself, corruption breeding corruption breeding corruption from the dust upwards. Not to mention road-tripping here comes with a subtle unease of the vulnerability of it all. That if for whatever reason you breakdown in the middle of bandit country you are essentially as easy to robbed or be messed with as a comatosed K-head with his head in a multirig bassbin, and as most people walking by are machete-laden you don’t really want that. However, being hombres with cahones as muy grande as us cabrones happened to be smuggling, we gave little thought to these background elements and ploughed on, blaring old skool Jungle and Rage Against the Machine merrily, stopping for more tacos, taking in the scenery and enjoying the vibes of what we soon dubbed ´Actual Mexico´.

The destination was Chiapas, a three day drive from Tulum around Guatamala featuring the jungle ruins of King Pakal´s Palenque Kingdom and the Zapatista strongholds which have been publicly fighting to retain the right to their extremely fertile (and beautiful) land since 1994. The villages themselves are not villages, they are occupied zones which are developing their own educational systems and have their own hierarchy and local government . We were able to visit and see one of these near Palenque with the help of the most jokes-hustlers you can ever hope to meet, the one and only Amador Rosales (Rose Lover). Very interesting position to be in but after offering one of my drawings in a gesture of solidarity and good-faith, I was welcomed enough at least to stay outside the main compound and see it for myself. The word struggle means different things in this part of the world. The proud residents are truly showing that another way is possible but of course slow – signified by the use of a snail with a balaclava in many of the murals adorning the zone. Mad respect basically and a really humbling experience to actually see the lengths these people are prepared to go to stand up for the right to be heard - ´We wear masks so that we can be seen´.

Back in the car with new found understanding of where we were we decided to go off the beaten track to see the preserved murals of Bonampak. They are astoundingly dark with depicting stories that was the forefront of the understanding that the Mayans were not as peaceful and as utopian as once thought. Fingertip-less captives awaiting certain sacrifice and the hierarchies involved are there for all to see. Great experience and my first chance to see REAL mayan paintings. We could have returned back along the roads we came (yawn) but opted in the end to go where we´d been advised not to by most of the Lonely Planet crew, down along the border with Guatamala and Central America, where basically all of the drugs trafficked into Mexico cross over. Again, actual Mexico.

The road along the Guatemalan border was filled with clouds so thick we did not always take in the military roadblocks littering the winding roads ahead until we were literally bumping over them. The tropical rain slamming against the windscreen didn’t help either. Highly suspicious but also just curious army youth sticking their noses and assault rifles in our faces became commonplace as we inched further. To be honest they were nice, just a little confused as to why we were there if not to run heavy loads of coke. It´s definitely not your average tourist route. I recall we only really got the heebyjeebies when we started to run out of gas, realizing there was no Pemex´s around (Mexico´s state owned petroleum monster). ¿What do you do in the clouds along one of the world´s most prolific drug borders without gas and no phone signal? Luckily, we didn’t have to find out... We were blessed enough to buy some fuel from some entrepreneurial 7 year olds who were so surprised to see us weirdos there you´d think they were refuelling a UFO. It was a potentially harrowing experience, to say the least, but one that leaves you wondering what really all the fuss is about. Yeah it’s a bit sketchy not what you would imagine, the locals were just getting on as in the rest of the state, just highly isolated by rumour and activities which they have very little part in. Sadly these horror stories mean foreigners don’t risk it and venture to see the harsh reality of life for the impoverished locals here. Maybe some would actually better understand how costly the cheap nose candy actually is, even for those not involved in the trade. The clouds cleared, the sun came out, and the streets unwound meaning we could go more than 40k once more. We were en route to San Cristobal de las Casas.

San Cristobal de las Casas is magical and I encourage anybody to go there if they can at least once in their lifetime. I also encourage you to try living there. It truly has a sense of worlds colliding, with the indigenous nature of Chiapas in full visibility contrasted by the ever growing tourism and highlife enjoyed by its richer residents. It´s cheap too. It was time to settle and we decided to stay a month, planning to leave after New Year.

I needed to find my place here, and quick, because I hadn’t painted for a good while and wanted to get back in the swing of things. Painting murals in hostels for accommodation I realized here was much easier than I previously thought in Tulum, and my style seemed to impress many of the owners I spoke to - which was a big confidence boost . I managed to wangle a mural for what ended up to be 2 weeks worth of free accommodation in a hostel called De Ja Vu, on a beautiful wooden wall in the centre of this vibrant hostel/café/bar/venue which was definitely on the up and a hub of activity locally and with the travellers. Having been around so many ruins and after my time in La Zona Maya I wanted to see how well I could combine my skills with the incomparable style of the Mayans, and picked a piece from one of the stalae (carvings) from Yaxchilan, near Bonampak. It depicts Lady Xook, on the bottom right of the panel, in the hallucinatory stage of the bloodletting ritual. She conjures before her a vision of a Teotihuacan serpent. The god coming out of his mouth is the god of corn and so I combined a study of this in my style: a huge corn cob growing out of an agave, the plant that blesses the land with tequila and mezcal. Peering out are eyes thorough a Zapatista balaclava hole to bring the history into the modern day, two cultures of Chiapas in one, in colour. I was thrilled, it was my first colour mural and also in Chiapas which was fast becoming one of my favourite places on earth.

A real ambition of mine, to have a solo show in Mexico, was realized in these mountains. After rolling through the many bars, stores and music related hangouts of the town I got a tip about a place called ´El Paliacate´ (The bandana) which as well as hosting music events, political and resistance related events and talks in the city also had a gallery space. This ex-occupation turned legitimate cultural space was the perfect setting and I was ecstatic to hear they had an opening for a week over Christmas and New Year that needed to be filled. After agreeing the dates I set to work, realizing that this self organized show would need a hell of a lot of self organizing, being there without the rest of the Minesweeper famalam. Day to day I found the places to buy my stuff (London needs more Papellerias!!), learned the essential words (tape, boards, frames, glue, prints, paint brushes etc) and slowly orientated myself around the town trying to find all the necessities. I´ll admit I have an issue with streets when they are blocks, it seems simple, but all the corners seemed the same. I got lost more times than I can remember which was slightly frustrating as it coincided with the sporadic opening hours of all the tiendas over the Christmas period. You are going against the grain here trying to organize an art gallery in a place where most guerros are tourists and not really doing much else apart from enjoying themselves or political activities outside of the city, not running into the same photocopies place three times in a day looking for a scanner. The locals celebrate a month long party ´Virgin de Guadalupe festival´ on the run-up to Christmas with fireworks, parades and costumes on show every day creating a surreal setting for my haphazard project, and it was really fun to be doing Minesweeper style shows with all this new energy around me. It helps when you have a crew though and missed the camaraderie of the Undercurrents Gallery. I designed the poster and got to work promoting while also selling my hand-drawn baseball hats (gorras) around the town as I went. This mixed with the mural for my bed meant I was finally self-sufficient in Chiapas, a great feeling, that gave me lots of confidence for the future missions.

The week of the show soon arrived and 3 days before I hit up the venue about painting a mural before the show. I was to be painting the same day as my new muralist friend Armando, a great guy who told me a great deal about the city and the project he was living in - ´Wapani´. We decided to combine our themes, him focusing on Zapatista imagery and written messages and me on my new idea I had been toying with for the last days. It was based on a sketch I had been working on about the situation I mentioned in the last chapter about the student disappearances. A quote I had heard, ´They did not bury students, they buried seeds´ was the basis of the piece. A silent rebellious tree, with the Zapatista skull eyes staring through a balaclava growing from a flaming grave. The floor in the piece was littered with bloody corn cobs, symbolizing the grim situation with Monsanto. I included also memorial candles for the dead students, as well as 1000 peso bills highlighting the corruption behind all of these deaths the country is sadly renowned for. From the blood grow shoots, getting ever larger until finally they become the tree itself. A huge machine gun like the ones brandished here by the Municipal police forces leans against the trunk. The tree I decided needed a positive message as well as these deep themes. Flowering between the leaves I put all the modern forms of non-violent resistance that would be needed for any kind of positive and peaceful continuation from this scene: cameras, smart phones filming equipment, laptops, paintbrushes and musical instruments to share and plan these messages of change that the nation was crying for. It also features shining lightbulbs to signify the need for new ideas in times like this rather than tired methods which allow people to fall into the traps the police hope for during direct action, usually ending in arrest which, in Mexico, I can assure you it is not fun. I decided to name the piece ´The Tree of Modern Resistance´ and was met with great respect by the many visitors to the venue over these days. I consider it to be one of my favourite works, not only for the position it had in this politically minded city, but for its subject matter. I could see I was progressing in the direction of socially minded illustration as well as surrealism. I had also learnt the ability to put it in mural form again after Tulum, which I had been worrying might have been a bit of a fluke. The people around understood its significance without needing an explanation: that's the root of illustration in my opinion - and something I had always struggled with before Mexico.

With the mural in place, the accommodation piece finished and a new rent taken in a shared house at the top of the hill in the centre of town, all that was needed, was to arrange the works for the show. I collected and printed my favourite drawings from the Tulum sessions as well as some new ones and mixed them with my portfolio of UK work that I was carrying with me through Mexico. I wrote up a written explanation of the Minesweeper project as well as my own story and got it translated into Spanish and printed. I mounted the pieces and arranged my canvas for the Live Art I wished to do during the show like I do in England. The last flyers were thrown around town and the music line up confirmed (hiphop-ragga-latin-dubwisefunk). The stage was set, the missions completed. I sat down in a woolly sweaty heap with my well-earned mezcal and free baguette and waited (hoping) for the public to arrive…

To be continued...

"A human being should be able to change a diaper, plan an invasion,

butcher a hog, conn a ship, design a building,

write a sonnet, balance accounts,

build a wall, set a bone, comfort the dying,

take orders, give orders, cooperate, act alone,

solve equations, analyze a new problem,

pitch manure, program a computer, cook a tasty meal,

fight efficiently, die gallantly.

Specialization is for insects."

Robert Heinlein, "Time Enough for Love"

Minesweeper Magazine ~ Issue Third ~ May 2015

Here we are : the THIRD ISSUE of The Minesweeper Collective Magazine !
And it evolves : more arts & craft reviews, past & future events, & also a great adventure !
If you have submissions, contact us : internsweep@gmail.com
We are waiting for you ! To read the magazine, click here!