A Little Beijing Shack Inside the Reina Sofia

"Come with me to China," I beckoned to him as I led us through the doorway, into the shack. "Oooo, it even smells like China," I cooed.

"How do you know? Have you been to China?" he inquired.

"No, but I know very well the smell of Chinese shops." (as a frequent visitor to these types of stores, I'd know the distinctive musty aroma of dried herbs and mushrooms anywhere)

I found this recreation of a typical family shack especially memorable because it pays meticulous attention to all sorts of authentic shabby details: dirt-stained clothes and shoes, well-used cooking utensils, a sack of rice, an industrial-size bottle of cooking oil, a thin well-worn mattress held up with bricks, a discoloured cutting block, replete with a rusty cleaver, a Chinese musical soundtrack of popular songs, a window overlooking the other shacks outside, and yes, this home also comes complete with the fragrance of 'eau de China'. A shack of this modest dimension would normally house a family of four.

This installation is an example of why I think art can play an important role in enlightening society. Some art puts us inside a physical space we would never otherwise have the opportunity to be in and once inside this space, our imagination bridges the gap between us and 'that which is foreign', and we come away with a better intuitive understanding of 'that which we didn't know before' and this knowledge often transcends words. We simply feel it on a visceral level, we know it with our limbic brain.

Showcasing the 'making of the Chinese new worker class and 30 years of migration', the Culture and Arts Musem of Migrant Workers Museum, Beijing District 2010, is a part of the The Potosí Principle exhibition, a cooperation between Museo Nacional Centro de Arte Reina Sofía and Haus der Kulturen der Welt. Now on until September 6th.

Museo Nacional Centro de Arte Reina Sofía,

Calle de Santa Isabel, 52

All photography by Shehani Kay

A sip of Cuban spirit

Negra Tomasa's various Cuban dolls







The Priestess joins the band on stage

My first night flitting across the dance floor of Negra Tomasa left me with a keen desire to learn how to salsa for real. I mean, let's face it, salsa dancing is like sex with your clothes on with multiple partners and no bad hangover and awkward goodbyes the next morning... well, unless the dancing continues at home, that is. I can fake a salsa but there's no comparison to knowing the steps. My first night, I found my dance card quickly filled up with skilled and buff partners whom I simply followed to great success. What fun I had, laughing and dancing to a live Cuban band until 5 am.

My mistake was letting my friend convince me to go back a second weekend in a row. My usual rule is, if you had an amazing time at a bar/disco, for god's sake, don't go back the next weekend unless you want to feel the keen slap of disappointment. Slap. My second night reminded me of the importance of having a dance partner who can lead you properly and well. I found my dance card filled by one eager man from Ghana who was a relentless over-complimenter.

"You are so beautiful."

"Thanks."

"Has anyone told you, you look African because your lips are so plump?"

"Umm... yes." (it was Grade 8 and I think that mean little boy was trying to hurt my feelings)

"You are the best dancer here."

"Umm.. er... thanks.."

This last obviously coy lie made me very wary of the night ahead so my friend and I quickly escaped to home sweet home alone but not before some random Spaniard twirled me and kissed me on my forehead on my way out the door.

Ahhh Negra Tomasa, you are a capricious and promiscuous lady.

La Negra Tomasa

Calle de Cádiz, 9

cover=10€ which includes a mojito

915 235 830

All photography by Shehani Kay

Metro Stories: cussing out the bullies

* Warning: there's bad language and swear words in two languages in this post. For those with delicate and refined sensibilities, perhaps you'll want to avert your eyes and skip this post.

Since I moved to Spain I have often fantasized about what it would be like to tell someone off on the metro who is being an asshole. The language barrier really inhibits me all the time. Joder (fuck), mierda (shit), gilipollas (stupid asshole), puta (slut), and cabrón (motherfucker) just don't flow off the tongue in a natural way for me. I'm always left eating my words and seething in silence. Only recently have I decided to allow myself to swear and make sarcastic remarks in English, just to let off some steam. I mutter things like, fuck, jesus fucking christ, what the fuck? and "sure, why don't you take your sweet fucking time" and "yup, in the middle of foot traffic is a really great fucking place to stop". Still, I haven't become so bitter as to push people out of my way like some other folks. These bullies will shove you, step on you, yell at you and in general be complete fuckwits. Because I don't speak enough Spanish to give them a coherent piece of my mind, I'm often left feeling frustrated and impotent.

Well on Wednesday I finally got my chance to speak up. I was coming home on a very crowded metro and when the doors opened at Lavapies station a lot of people were trying to get out. There was this British brute who grunted "move it" and began pushing behind me to get all of us out the door faster. As soon as I heard English, I went into instinct mode and so I turned around and said, "Will you stop fucking pushing?!" I could see my admonishment trigger a look of surprise at being called out in his mother tongue and then a flash of anger ignited in his blue eyes. His fleshy face reddened. "Then move faster!" he retorted, to which I replied, "We're moving as fast as we can!" He snorted and said, "Yeah right." So I shook my head and said, "You're a fucking twat!" as I walked off the metro carriage. He went ballistic behind me and began screaming, "Come say that to my face you cunt.." etc. But I kept on walking calmly away and I soon lost him in the crowd. He was freaking out so much, people turned around to look to see what was happening! The Bulldog was bellowing out in what sounded like a battle cry. "Arrrggghhh!!" Que fuerte! My heart thumped hard in my chest as visions of him chasing me down and beating on me crossed my mind but I shook that fear off and kept on walking up the escalators, out the door and into the lively, people filled streets of my barrio.

The thing is, if it had been a Spanish gilipollas or even a Morrocan cabrón, I wouldn't have worried that he'd get violent on me. We'd just heatedly exchange swears and cusses, gilipollas and putas. However, the threat of violence felt very much more probable with the British bulldog. Perhaps it's because British friends of mine have often regaled me with horrible stories of bloody bar fights that bubble up from nowhere in the UK. Why is it that beneath the thin, flimsy veil of respectability, stiff upper lip and civility there lies a barbaric violent streak in the breast of the British bloke?

Photography by Shehani Kay. Original street art found near Metro Puerta del Angel

The Open Door

The hobbit-size storage room door on my floor was opened for visitors so I took the opportunity to snap a photo. There's something other worldly, mysterious and tantalizing about this open door. Who knows what visions of Cthulhu lie down the corridor and behind the little doors... what secret gardens and Narnias hide from our view.

This is a followup to the Fifth Floor series of photos I took back in March.

Photography by Shehani Kay

DemonEyes

Negative thoughts are like demons who watch for every opportunity to stick a dagger in your heart. These demons have many spies and these many spies have many eyes with which to peek under your every rock, into your every crevice and closet.

This week I've been stalked by the demoneyes and I'm trying hard to shake off their penetrating stares and cackling laughter. Some time this week I sipped from the poisoned goblet and drank deep the rotten roots of my youth. Some wounds are so ancient and painful, they still sting and fester when scratched. This indiscretion allowed the darkness to billow like storm clouds in the prairie skies. So as this storm thunders around me and these demoneyes keep their vigil, I too will keep my own vigil and ride out this bad weather. I shall stay aware of my black self talk and remember well that feelings are as impermanent as clouds on a breezy day.

Happy Friday! I'm off to have some wine with friends, my antidote for mal humor.

Photography by Shehani Kay. Seen near Viaducto de Segovia in Madrid.

The Many Charms of María Pandora

María Pandora in Plaza de Gabriel Miró, 1 in La Latina is a place where you can gaze upon a gorgeous sunset near Jardine de las Vistillas while sipping on champagne cocktails. The quaint charm of this book-filled, candle-lit, antique knick-knacked, art festooned bar is disarmingly lovely. Although a bit pricey for this lass, I thoroughly enjoyed the atmosphere and the delightful plate of sliced fruit, sweets and corn nuts that came with our drinks.

I ventured out of my barrio to say farewell to a friend who is leaving us for the sun and quiet of a village near the beach in Malaga. Since I have always wanted to visit María Pandora, I was really pleased that I was not disappointed with the ambience.

For more info on Pandora, you can visit their facebook page.

All photography by Shehani Kay

Sunday Flowers and Other Bliss

The reflection of my neighbour's flowers upon the glass of my balcony door last Sunday morning. This image caught my eye as I was sitting in my antique armchair, writing in my moleskine, getting kissed by the sun and licked by a delicious wind. This was a moment of bliss for me.

A couple days ago I discovered that one of my photos and caption appeared in The New Yorker Online and this was a heady surprise. Forever more I can say my work has appeared in The New Yorker under the caption, "Great images of books from around the world and the Web." (!!) I am beyond thrilled and this delightful bit of randomness and luck has reminded me that life is full of amazing richness. Things invisible to our eyes are perpetually swirling around us. We navigate but we don't actually control a lot of life. What's important is that we keep on doing what we love to do, and if we keep on following our bliss, as Joseph Campbell said, doors will open where we would not have thought there would be doors. This week The New Yorker's door opened to me and it was breathtaking.

Happy Friday everyone! Stay inspired and keep on keeping on!

Photography by Shehani Kay

Viaducto de Segovia and her dark souls

Viaducto de Segovia crosses Calle de Segovia and is a part of Calle Bailen.

The original wood and iron viaduct was constructed in 1874 in order to create a major thoroughfare that linked the Royal Palace and the Basilica San Francisco el Grande. It was rebuilt in concrete in 1934 by Ferrero, Aracil and Aldaz. In 1942, after the Spanish Civil War, the viaduct was once again rebuilt due to its terrible state of deterioration.

According to Madrid occult stories, suicides began showing up in the newspapers shortly after the construction of this viaduct. Authorities tried to prevent this rash of suicides by putting up a mesh so that people couldn't jump, but unfortunately, despite their best efforts, people still found ways to do themselves in. There are legends of ghosts wandering around and some say these tragic souls can still be heard wailing and crying.

To this day, suicides and accidents continue to haunt this bridge. Some deaths are due to recklessness, others because of drunkenness, and yet others jump willing, unable to assuage the great darkness that consumes their soul.

All photography by Shehani Kay

This one is for the birds

A charred and weather beaten apartment building facade near San Bernardo Metro seems to be a favoured spot for the numerous local birds that line the balcony railings.

Photography by Shehani Kay

No Doll Left Behind

Photography by Shehani Kay

Revisiting Rodas

A recent revisit to the facade of the okupada (squat) on the corner of Calle Embajadores and Calle Rodas, which is often the canvas for stunning street art, was a reminder that art of the street is a perpetually evolving, mutating and organically curated work, in constant progress. Gone is the cat from "What's New Pussy Cat?" and so is the camera boy from "Say, PATATAS!" and the beauty from "Stalking Beauty" and all the smiles from "SMILE" In its place is a collaboration of a number of well-known local artists: Steven, e1000ink, chylo, Borondo, and whoever else is bold enough to join in this visual riff.

I love this new mural collaboration. It seems ripe for one of my mashup comic narratives, which I will perhaps create one day soon. For now though, I wanted to share this visual eye candy in its original form.

Like the buds and leaves that are bursting from the branches of once barren trees around the barrio, the weather beaten walls around Lavapies are also bursting with new life, colours and shapes. Be on the watch, there is beauty everywhere.

All photography by Shehani Kay

Torre Picasso, views from the tower

Torre Picasso soars an impressive 515 ft (157m) into the Madrid sky. Once the tallest skyscraper in the Madrid skyline, it now (as of 2007) plays 5th fiddle to the 800 ft+ four towers in the Cuatro Torres Business Area (CTBA).

Taking photos from this tower is actually prohibited but since it thrills the little outlaw in me, I took photos anyway.

Views from the 21st:

The sierra

2 of the CTBA towers and the slanted Caja Madrid twin towers.

Views from the 33rd:

Santiago Bernabéu, where Real Madrid kicks balls.

Paseo de la Castellana and BBVA with Torre España off in far in the distant background.

Wide view of the Madrid skyline with the pointy Torrespaña, also popularly known as “piruli” which means a lollipop in Spanish.

I hope you enjoyed the view. Have a great a weekend everyone!

All photography by Shehani Kay

Achy neck and back?

Well, if you live in Madrid then you're in luck. I've had a lot of work instability lately, which has resulted in weird stressed out sleeping positions. This, coupled with the heavy bag of tricks I shlep around with me from company to company to teach English, has left me with extremely sore neck and shoulders. Fortunately for me, I have a friend with big strong hands who happens to be a trained masseuse. Jose kneads out tension in a beautifully decorated massage room equipped with a full length massage table, incense, oils and soothing music. Doubly fortunate for me is his current special offer. Half off! YAY!

So if you're in Madrid and in need of a relaxing massage to relieve what ails you physically at a budget price then look no further, Jose is your man. Call 655 48 08 41 or send an email to set up an appointment. He is located close to the Metro station "Colonia Jardín".

Aproveche!

Photo Essay: Semana Santa Procession~pointy hoods and holy dolls

Notice the bare feet in the photo above.

Semana Santa processions in Madrid aren't as famous as the ones down south but they still put on a good show on the years when the weather cooperates with the devotees. It rained the last couple years so this year, since the sun was shinning, I decided to aproveche and take some photos of those pointy hoods that are so eerie and symbolic.

I got there early and managed to score a good spot. A really sweet Spanish dude let me take his place in the front of him because I'm a shorty. Bless the Spanish heart! As the Jesus float was making its way past us, a thick-set, loud mouth bruja with a heavily painted face stopped jabbering into her cell phone just as the float was passing us and then she freaked out because she couldn't get an unobstructed view. She started yelling at me for getting in her way. Damn the Spanish religious fanaticism! The nice dude and I exchanged looks and rolled our eyes. Qué fuerte! No matter, I happily managed to fire off the photos below as the Bruja was blabbering on her mobile.

The second part of the procession, with a different brotherhood of Nazarenos leading the Maria float.

The crowd yelled out Guapa guapa as the figurine of María Santísima de la Esperanza Macarena approached us.

Notice the feet under the float.

Some snapshots of the crowd while we waited for the procession to begin.

All photography by Shehani Kay, taken during the Semana Santa procession in Madrid 2010 on calle del Duque de Rivas.

ORGANIZACIÓN: Real, Ilustre y Fervorosa Hermandad y Cofradía de Nazarenos de Nuestro Padre Jesús del Gran Poder y María Santísima de la Esperanza Macarena.