These two are “Artlaws”
Some of you in New York have seen their work, but i can’t tell you their names.
Keith Haskel and Havana On The Hudson Cuban Food
Video of Poster Boy/ MoMA by Keith Haskel
On February 10, the Museum of Modern Art launched one of its most extensive and expensive advertising campaigns in history when it reproduced 57 works from its permanent collection and plastered the images around Brooklyn’s Atlantic-Pacific subway station. Then, this past Saturday night around 2 a.m., the installation was ambushed by two men. One was Poster Boy, or at least someone from his collective, a member of which was arrested earlier this month on criminal-mischief and misdemeanor charges. His accomplice was a less likely culprit: Doug Jaeger, the marketing executive who created the campaign for MoMA. Jaeger is CEO of the brand-management agency the Happy Corp and president of the prestigious Art Directors Club. Read The Entire Article Here
The Voice was written by Javier Hernandez-Miyares for Mary K. Bua, and Fee Fi Fo Fum. This video is of a rehearsal at the Hunter Street Loft in Los Angeles.
What’s in the air tonight?
The boy who lost his voice
to the cricket king.
Radio reception is good,
but will i find that voice?
It’s olive green.
Where did they bury him?
No one seems to know,
but when you listen to the radio,
you might find that voice again.
There’s nothing to hear but news;
Nothing but news.
What’s in the air tonight?
A lot of talk about the left and the right.
What’s the word tonight?
I hope i can find that voice,
it’s been so long.
Why did they murder him?
No one seems to know.
The million lies will never
make me forget that that voice
was olive green.
There is nothing here but news;
nothing but news.
Song dedicated to Federico Garcia Lorca, Che Guevara, and Roque Dalton.
While your mother wears the jackboot,
You have no time to lose.
Slip away in your rat drawn shoes
To live to fight another day.
With the students in the streets,
you’ll rain petrol on their heads.
The iron fist wants to bust your balls,
and make your brother eat some lead.
Your lips are dry and your eyes are burning
as the crowd starts to disperse.
It was the summer of your first love,
until the curfew fell.
Backstabbing bastards were wearing the necklace,
and burning in the fields.
Riot police smoking lucky strikes,
as they flirted with the girls.
While the president of some foreign country
told you everything was well.
I bet you felt very macho
all the time you were raising hell!
Jackboot summer you will never forget.
The sound of rubber bullets
as they pass by your head.
It was a jackboot summer.
You spent time in a closet
discovering what you need.
Then like the bulls of Pamplona,
you chased it in the streets.
Electronic eyes of nations
were present at the scene.
Recording every moment
for the folks that watch tee vee.
You never thought for a moment that
you were winning anything.
Jackboot summer you will never forget.
The sound of rubber bullets
as they pass by your head.
It was a jackboot summer.
lyrics and music by Javier Hernandez-Miyares
I wrote this song in praise of the first intifada, and it is deliberately ironic, because we were watching it on our distorted tee vees.
The style of the tune is tropical blues. Jackboot Summer
