27 Mar 2017 · 16:43:42 AM

the movement, a mural and a tent…

a mural in front of Los Angeles’ Greyhound Station

Almost a week has passed since the last round of protesters at Standing Rock were pushed out or arrested.

The Guardian reports: “Amid the anger and sadness over the eviction of the camp, however, water protectors expressed determination to keep fighting for indigenous and environmental rights.

“‘The closing of the camp is not the end of a movement or fight; it is a new beginning,’ said Tom Goldtooth, executive director of the Indigenous Environmental Network, in a statement. ‘They cannot extinguish the fire that Standing Rock started. It burns within each of us.’”

In downtown Los Angeles, across from the Greyhound Station, a mural and a tent express solidarity.

28 Feb 2017 · 11:49:39 AM

all in a day…

“That’s Andy Warhol’s Rolls Royce,” says a man at the entrance, pointing to the burgundy 1974 Rolls Royce with a New York license plate reading “WARHOL” that greets visitors upon entering the Revolver gallery in Santa Monica. As we talk, I learn that I’m talking to Ron Rivlin an entrepreneur who owns the gallery, the Rolls, as well as all the Warhol prints and sculptures at the Warhol Revisited exhibition.

Invited by fellow parent and filmmaker John Heinsen, René, Minal, my mother and I are with John, his wife Lisa Quon and their children, viewing the Warhol Revisited exhibition. The touring show opened a few days ago, “coinciding with the 30th anniversary of Andy’s untimely death.” The show is free, but in order to attend, one must make an online appointment.

Inside the gallery, spaces are filled with Warhol’s soup prints, Marilyn Monroe, Mick Jagger, Mohammad Ali and Chairman Mao series alongside more prints and some sculpture. The gallery also offers a store and a room to view a documentary about Warhol.

“The Rolls Royce was first purchased by a man at Sotheby’s,” Rivlin tells me. “When he heard of my collection, he sold the car to me with a special discount.”

Upon learning that I recently relocated from Houston to Los Angeles, Rivlin says: “I’d love to tour the show in Houston. But I don’t want to work with museums. I’d rather rent a space where I can control what I do. For example, this is a free show, the way Andy would have wanted. It’s accessible to all. And I want to sell the art.” He points at the walls: “All this work is for sale. I have more upstairs…”

Later on in the evening, René and I head out again, this time with our friend Shaista Parveen to Viva Cantina in Burbank for a concert by rock icon Alejandro Escovedo; René has known Alejandro since René’s Austin days more than twenty-five years ago.

Since this is a blog post where I try to post minimal text, I won’t share details about other highlights of the day: ramen noodles in Little Tokyo, dessert in Santa Monica’s Sweet Lady Jane café, and the double rainbow on our drive back from Santa Monica.

Some days are just more full than others.

A selfie with Alejandro and René at Viva Cantina

18 Feb 2017 · 11:47:10 PM

the invasion of plastic…

Today, before heading out to Karachi Literature Festival at the Beach Luxury Hotel, filmmaker Tehmina Ahmed and I carve out time to visit Khajoor Bazaar. Located in old Karachi, the bazaar offers walking lanes lined with open stalls selling dates from around Pakistan as well as imported from the Middle East, alongside cloth, spices, and other household goods.

Here, many years ago, I discovered beads made with nutmeg, cardamom, clove, and other spices; A shopkeeper told me the garlands are used in parts of Sindh as gifts for brides; the garlands also served as inspiration for “Reclaiming Home,” an art installation I created in 2013.

Today, I visit the bazaar to replenish my stock since the necklaces I bought years ago have lost fragrance. I find the dangling beads in one shop but upon closer examination, I notice that the cloves have been replaced by black plastic pellets.

“Too expensive to use real spice,” the shopkeeper tells me. “I can make better ones for you if you can pick them up in a few days.”

Tehmina and I wander further down the lane stop at another shop where spice-beads dangle, again with black plastic pellets. The shopkeeper invites us inside the stall and holds up 15 necklaces that are made with real clove, priced at Rs.150 ($1.50) each, more than ten times the price of garlands with plastic. I purchase the full set of 15 beads.

“That’s all I have,” he tells me. “No one buys real necklaces anymore,” He, too, offers to make me more if I pre-order.

The conversation reminds me of my 2010 trip to Mauripur where artists create truck art. Back then, I was looking for a buraq sticker and was told the same thing: No one buys the buraq stickers any more. That spring, I had more time and was able to pre-order images for the art car I was co-creating in Houston. Since the buraq image is considered pagan, religious reasons were driving market changes. However, I felt hopeful when I picked up my stickers and the shopkeeper told me: “I ordered 100 more buraq stickers because of you. Maybe more people will buy and the sticker will become popular again…”

But this trip is short. I don’t have time to order additional garlands. I leave, wondering what sad changes I’ll encounter the next time I venture into Khajoor Bazaar.

buraq photo by Minal S at the home of truck art collector Anj Rana

11 Feb 2017 · 07:34:10 PM

home again...

Even though my time in Karachi is brief, I’m able to carve out time to accept
Asif Farrukhi’s long-standing invitation to visit Habib University, a liberal arts school that opened less than three years ago. Over an informal lunch, I listen to students share about their poetry slam initiative, their competition in India and their interest in revisiting Partition issues through their family lens. I also talk to students and staff about VBB, my work and the Borderlines project.

During a short tour, I visit the outdoor theater that has one wall painted with truck art (below), a bulletin board that contains Urdu newspaper clippings from August 1947, and the “smoking lounge,” an outdoor space, where students gather to chat and some play music (above).

9 Feb 2017 · 08:22:16 PM

vacant airplane…

Empty airplane seats on my 16-hour journey from LAX to KHI, where I’m heading for just six days to participate in the annual Karachi Literature Festival, which will attract more than 100,000 attendees.

The Emirates airline representative at LAX airport says that flights have been running empty for a week since the executive order banning refugees from seven predominately Muslim countries, and the cancellation of more than 100,000 US visas.

“Starting next week,” she tells me, “we’re going to run smaller aircraft between the US and Dubai.”

But for today, I have four seats to myself. I spend most of the journey sleeping.

05:38:05 AM

the big day...

author Kate DiCamillo with Minal

Ever since Minal learns that she won first place in the Scholastic Reader’s Raymie Nightingale contest, she has been waiting for young adult author Kate DiCamillo’s visit to her school, Blair Middle and High School.

The two months slip away in the midst of political unraveling around us, and this morning, when I drop Minal to school, the day feels like any other. But a few hours later, once I return to campus to join the middle school assembly, there is celebration in the air with balloons, posters and middle school students gathered in the gymnasium. Minal and her English teacher, Christine McLaughlin, sit in front of a cheering audience while Kate DiCamillo shares slides and talked about her journey as a writer.

Afterwards, DiCamillo walks between students, answering questions (“What’s your favorite book?” “Are you married?” and “Do you still write two pages every day?”). Once the public session ends, Minal and her teacher escort Kate to Minal’s class, where Kate DiCamillo signs books for Minal’s classmates, who receive t-shirts, a copy of Kate’s Raymie Nightingale, and pizza (funded by the Scholastic Reader).

“It was wonderful to see Minal stand up there and take in all the applause with poise,” DiCamillo tells me before leaving campus. “I know she’s going to be a writer!”

Postscript: A few days later, Kate DiCamillo adds a note on her FB page – click here to read.

03 Feb 2017 · 04:54:43 PM

VBB's upcoming publication...

Borderlines Volume Two; image by Veer Munshi, cover design by Angela Martinez

Now more than ever it’s important to push past rising walls. In about a month, Voices Breaking Boundaries’ latest publication, Borderlines Volume Three, will be available. The publication, containing writings and art from Bangladesh, Canada, India, Mexico, Pakistan, the US-Mexico border and Houston, is a labor of love driven by a team including: co-editors, Margot Backus PhD, Maria Gonzalez PhD, who donate their brilliance for the sheer joy of creating memorable publications; Joshua Turner, who has been designing all Voices Breaking Boundaries (VBB) books even as he moves between jobs in New York and Houston; and Anna Saikin PhD, who juggles emails from the editors, contributors, readers and me and keeps track of all deadlines. As VBB’s Artistic Director, I’m involved in all levels of the publication.

Borderlines Volume Three is VBB’s final Borderlines publication and features art and writings by: Julia Villaseñor Bell, Britto Arts Trust, Jimmy Castillo, Oui Chatwara S. Duran, Claudia Cerrucha Espinosa, Sonya Fatah, Os Galindo, Victoria Paige Gonzalez, Paul Hester, Gelson Lemus, Sayantan Boka Maitra, Kabir Mokamel/Peace Street, Carolina Monsivais, Delilah Montoya, Veer Munshi, Minerva Reynosa, Bruno Rios, Stephanie Saint Sanchez, Sehba Sarwar, Mikaela Selley, Masooma Syed, Sukhada Tatke, Roberto Tejada, Charisse Weston, Sebastian Varghese, Stalina Villarreal, Gemini Wahhaj, Ilona Yusuf and Pablo Gimenez Zapiola.

The cover image is a photograph by Veer Munshi (whose interview by Sukhada Tatke is available in the book) and cover is designed by Angela Martinez, who has been working with VBB and me for almost a decade.

Stay tuned for the release date!

2 Feb 2017 · 07:30:11 PM

two days later…

Woman waiting to catch Metro waves a banner designed by Stephen Fairey for The Amplifier Foundation’s We The People project

I wake up to hear the radio spitting stories about the wall that will be built no matter what, the continuation of the Dakota Access pipeline, rejection of refugees, removal of funding for international NGOs that cover fertility rights, reduction of taxes for corporations, eliminating healthcare for all. This is a short list.

Remembering Saturday’s excitement when Minal and I crammed into Los Angeles’s Metro with Elline Lipkin and her friend toward the Women’s March in Pershing Square, I search for hope, telling myself that these days will pass, that artists will be the ones to undo damage from this era. I am reminded of the destruction wreaked in 1977 after General Zia launched his military coup, kicking off laws that spiraled Pakistan into the middle ages. And I am inspired when I remember participating in Women’s Action Forum marches in the heart of Karachi.

When Minal grows older, she, too, will recall her first march with 750,000 children, women and men in downtown LA. She will save the photos she shared with friends who also marched with their mothers and fathers 1,500 miles away in Houston, twelve year-old girls pushed into political consciousness by a president whose actions will change the world they know.

Left: Woman holds up Stephen Fairey’s poster designed for the Amplifier Foundation’s We The People Project; Right: Image of Munira Ahmed in Fairey’s poster, also designed as part of Amplifier Foundation’s We the People project

24 Jan 2017 · 04:09:49 PM

a saturday night virtual playdate…

“I’m at 10:21 seconds,” calls out Minal.

“I need to catch up—I’m at 10:24 seconds!” Minal’s friend’s voice ricochets from Minal’s video phone that’s propped up in front of our television screen.

“I’ll pause,” replies Minal.

Minal and her friend are participating in a “virtual playdate,” through which the girls—one in Pasadena, California and other in Houston, Texas—are watching the same Amazon Prime TV show. Speaking on video-phones with their I-pads projecting the show onto larger screens, the girls have timed their viewing so they can experience each episode at the same pace. Last night was a practice session, but tonight is a marathon.

During a break, I ask if they would call their virtual visit a “playdate” or a “hangout.”

Minal’s friend pauses and then responds: “A playdate!”

“Yeah,” agrees Minal. “I’d feel weird saying ‘hangout.’

“We’re not there yet,” her eleven-year-old friend explains.

14 Jan 2017 · 09:38:08 PM

learning more every day…

This week, poet, performance artist and educator Christa Forster, who I met in Houston more than two decades ago and have remained friends with ever since, visited her hometown San Juan Capistrano, where her mother still resides. Undaunted by the sixty miles between Pasadena and Orange County, René, Minal and I head south, so we can spend some time with Christa and her family. After catch-up conversations, Christa gives us a tour of Mission San Juan Capistrano, a site that one of Christa’s California friends tells me I must visit with Christa.

The mission, which was founded in 1776 by Spaniards, was largely successful in its goals to convert members of the indigenous community, and remained active until 1821 when Mexico gained independence from Spain. Once the mission system was dissolved by the Mexican government, Mission San Juan Capistrano—like other missions around California—was abandoned, changing owners several times.

In 1844, the Mission property was purchased at a public auction by Christa’s ancestor, Englishman John (Don Juan) Forster, brother-in-law of California’s governor, Pio Pico. Using the Mission as a ranch, John (Don Juan) Forster and his family resided in the building for twenty years until 1864 when Abraham Lincoln reclaimed the property and returned the site to the Catholic Church. (Today, Mission San Juan Capistrano operates as a non-profit organization, offering tours and exhibitions and running a chapel.) Inside the Mission property, a room is dedicated to Christa’s family, showcasing photographs of John (Don Juan) Forster, his wife Ysidora Pico and California governor Pio Pico. After our Mission tour, Christa walks us to the O’Neill Museum where a plaque honors her father, Tomas “Tony” Forster.

Though Christa has conducted research and created a performance piece about her ancestor Ysidora Pico—which I experienced several years ago—I didn’t comprehend her background until I witnessed how deeply her family roots are intertwined with San Juan Capistrano’s history. Given my own family’s movement from India to Pakistan—and now to different parts of the world—I’m especially appreciative of how Christa’s family history is preserved in one region.

The Mission courtyard

29 Dec 2016 · 10:08:14 PM

Note added on 16 Jan, 2017 When I tell my cousin Samina Hasan, who used to live in Dana Point (a beachtown close to San Juan Capistrano), about our visit, she sends me an email: OMG! Zoha [my daughter] went to Marco Forster Middle School, probably named after a relative of your friend.

And sure enough, a few hours later, Christa confirms by email: Marco Forster MS is named for my grandfather (my dad’s dad).