Magic

Right. So this is a piece I created for Andrea Marie’s new album cover. COOL HUH. Andrea is part of the musical collective United Pursuit, singing and playing with them, and has just put together her first official solo album. She also happens to be my neighbor. Or “nabe,” as she termed it. Oh, and my sister through Jesus. Oh yeah, and also she married my brother.

So we got together to discuss the artwork, and she told me her concept for having a collage-type drawing with objects and places of significance all intermingling… a Fleet Foxes album was referenced, drawing styles analyzed, colors arbitrated. Over the next few weeks Andrea gathered photos and passed them on to me, and I placed and moved and re-sized them to my hearts content. It was funny, working on this piece, because Andrea is not simply a client, she is known to me, and the significance of these things are significant to me too… I didn’t know that precious little child in the bottom left of the drawing, but she grew up to complete the heart of my precious brother and friend, Will. I wondered at the level of emotional and spiritual commitment in this drawing, for Andrea. But that’s how she does everything. No holding back, and no masking of the issues of our hearts and lives that matter most, even if they make you cry. And when I listed to the final mastered version of her new album last week, I knew that she had done that again. The music of this album is an unmasked look at the longings of the human heart for beauty, for truth, for safety and love. She doesn’t hold back. It was beautiful.

So y’all put on your boots and scarves and coats and gloves, and come down to Relix theater on Saturday night, 12-10. It’s Andrea’s CD release concert, and I hear tell there’s gonna be a cello, and a xylophone, and Andrea Marie herself, singing that magic again.

Here Begin Teaser

http://herebegin.eventbrite.com/ Tickets

Michael Carr Album design (He’s amazing)

http://unitedpursuit.com/ More info

Magic

Duly noted:

Steadily over the last four months, the Burmese army has continued to move offensive fronts into various ethnic tribal states of Burma, burning villages, killing, raping, and torturing, taking slaves as forced laborers and causing full-scale terror. I know this because I interviewed leaders of a tribe called the Kachin, and they told me about it. Understand? If you don’t, don’t worry, it’s kind of a weird situation. Few Americans know much about the circumstances in Burma. It is not widely discussed, and rarely receives attention on the news. As far as I understand it, Burma is made up of one dominant ethnic group, often referred to as “Burmese,” and then many minority ethnic groups, whose people have their own languages, governing bodies, and geographical states.  You probly have some aid worky/missionary friends that went to Thailand to work with some “hill tribes” and eat Thai food and be cool. Same peeps. Those “hill tribes” are actually people groups with rich histories and settled state lines.

The country of Burma won its independence from the British in 1948, which was good, but then in the 1960′s, a military junta took over, and that was bad, bad news.  And that bad news has been in charge until just recently, when a newly elected government took over. The state of affairs for the ethnic tribes, however, have yet to improve. In terms of human rights violations it continues to be one of the longest-standing and worst situations in all of history. Previously, the ruling military junta decided that it would be better for Burma if all the other ethnic groups went away. Like, were extinguished or disappeared. Like, were murdered. Like, genocide. New government notwithstanding, it seems that this horrific behavior on the part of the Burmese military is still far from being over.

As the Burmese military has moved into the ethnic states causing mass mayhem and/or destruction, the people have systematically been fleeing for their lives. I recently had the privilege of meeting some of these very people, in the city of Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. Around abouts 40,000 people live there as refugees and asylum seekers. The ethnic states have been so oppressed for so long that as nations they have struggled in Burma to provide even the most basic amenities to their people, such as decent education, health-care, or a working economy. But one constant is easily observed amongst them, and that is an all-encompassing solidarity in their care for each other and the wellfare of their country. These people have courage like i don’t understand, can’t understand. But I like watching it.

One Monday morning in Malaysia Katie Basbagill and I traveled from Kuala Lumpur some 4 hours up into a mountainous area of Malaysia called the Cameron Highlands, where we met some refugees living and working as field hands on huge farms. (It’s easier to avoid the police in the mountains than in the city.)

One guy, Yhawn Hliar, escaped through the jungle and into Malaysia just last month. This recently-turned 18 year old now works as a field hand on one of these farms. Thats him below. On the left is Sang Hre, my friend, whom you can read about here. To his right is Bo Bo, the foreman. To his right is Maung Pu, our driver. And sitting is Yhawn. Look at their faces.

I asked Yhawn to write his name and in one word, what he wanted for Burma. These guys don’t know each other. And they may not know why two american girls want to take their picture. But they know they want Yhawn to write his name well. And they want the words of hope for Burma to be put down with that pen clearly and with strength. Its how they do everything. With care.  So anyways. Progress, and development. Thats what Yhawn said. That’s what he wrote.

You can’t beat $4 a night.

The alley just kept going. Five minutes before, we had stopped abruptly in the middle of a dark road, littered with piles of debris and flickering lights. Several men sitting on crates and boxes gave us dark looks. We were being dropped off in the scariest place I’ve ever been, by a bewildered taxi driver at midnight somewhere deep in New Delhi, and I questioned our wisdom in getting out of the taxi. But I SERIOUSLY questioned our wisdom in then following a turbaned motorcycle dude named “Lucky” that supposedly worked at our supposed hostel into a narrow alley between two buildings under a cascade of neon signs. Carrying our luggage, and $15,000 worth of camera gear, we walked through a maze of dogs, rats, trash, food, and streams of what Katie refers to as “unknown liquids.” I tried to keep track of our turns, right at the green door, left at the big cart, right at the crumbling steps… Power cords dangled in masses over our heads. Cockroaches bigger than life scuttled into darkness. Occasionally you would see splashes of colored light escaping from cracks in doors…a radio on…bollywood in the background, the smell of incense and garbage. I kept looking up to see if I could still locate the sky. As soon as I was 98.2% convinced that we were walking with our own trafficker to our own brothel and future home, a white door appeared. It opened to a brightly lit room full of german college kids and a hippie or two with laptops, backpacks, and water bottles. Welcome to New King Hostel.

“Make your choice, adventurous stranger;

Strike the bell and bide the danger,

Or wonder till it drives you mad,

What would have followed if you had.”

-C.S. Lewis, of course.