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The Free Music Archive offers free downloads under Creative Commons and other licenses.We also offer a very large repository of free birthday songsA you can use in your projects. Jan Bohuslav Sobota died on May 2nd of 2012 and this is my remembrance of this fine man who was a friend and mentor to me. Each autumn, salmon return to the rivers of their birth a€“ there to spawn and once again trigger a renewal of the eternal passion play. Salmon that do eventually arrive at their destinations must once again compete a€“ this time for mates and to fight for access to the precious and very limited gravels. The profligate expenditure of life and extravagant wealth of biology is there everywhere to behold, as Death dances lightly among the gathering throngs of fish, picking and choosing from among them; who from their number shall successfully spawn and who shall just be food for the gathering predators and scavengers.
Spend a day in silence, walking among the spawning salmon, as they dig spawning redds, jockey for position and slash at competitors with those gaping, snaggletoothed, hooked jaws. Jan Bohuslav Sobota has died, while half a world away; I was preparing these etchings of Spawned Salmon and dedicating them to Jan, the lover of fish. The book you hold in your hands has evolved from my simply giving these etchings a second life in book form, to my using them as a vehicle for honoring a friendship of three decades.
In 1985, Jan and I had been corresponding for some months without ever meeting a€“ all quite distant and correct. A short bit of background on Jan Sobota to begin, but fear not; Ia€™ll soon be spinning anecdotes and thoughts on books as art a€“ celebrating Jana€™s life of course, telling a few stories out of school, but also straying into the personal and speculative in search of the meaning to be derived from the life and death of a friend.
Jana€™s father was a serious bibliophile and collector of fine books, who nurtured that same love of books in his son a€“ an appreciation that steadily grew, until he was apprenticed to master bookbinder Karel A ilinger in PlzeA?. The pivotal event in Jana€™s early life as a book artist was the posthumous retrospective exhibition of fellow Pilsener, Josef VA?chal in 1969.
Jan supported a family, sponsored workshops, exhibited widely, did conservation work on rare historic books, ran a gallery a€“ and on it went. What Jan did for contemporary bookbinding, was to act as a bridge between the traditionally trained masters of the past and innovators of the present. America was a great place to be a book artist in the early 1980a€™s precisely because it was an active zone of hybridization and hotbed of creativity. An instructive contrast to the anything-goes US scene was the icy reception I got when I showed a wooden box containing loose sheets of poetry and etchings to a Prague publisher.
Neither Jan nor I had much interest in the book-like objects that often sneak into the museums as book arts a€“ the carved and glued together things that sorta, kinda have a bookish aspect to them a€“ rough-looking a€“ perhaps chain-sawed Oaken boards or granite slabs, slathered in tar and lashed together with jute; but lacking text.
When Jana€™s books went beyond function, conservation or decoration, they were subtle statements about binding and the place of books, knowledge and art, as well as statements about the dignity inhering in the handcrafted - with a good dose humor.
There are others who know their conservation and those, whose scientific contributions are far greater, but few of them are also artists at heart. It can sound so pedestrian, these eternal compromises between art and craft, yet what Jan represented was not at all common. There is an inflection point at which exceptional craft begins to make the transition to art and it is closely associated with surmounting the limitations inhering to the discipline.
Visiting with Jan in his workshop you quickly realized, that he did what a professional must, but ultimately, he just loved messing about with books. A curiously protean hybrid of artist and craftsman, ancient and modern, one cannot think of Jan without seeing an unabashed Czech patriot in a foreign land.
Early on in their stay in Cleveland, the Sobotas experienced the quintessential American disaster. Even after their medical debts were retired, money was still an issue for a family of immigrants with three kids a€“ two with special needs.
Later on, when they were living in Texas, the massacre at Waco opened Jana€™s eyes to yet another difficult side of his adopted home.
In 1979, I apprenticed with Jindra Schmidt, an engraver of stamps and currency, living in Prague. Schmidt had engraved stamps for Bulgaria, Iraq, Ethiopia, Albania, Guinea, Vietnam and Libya. In 1992, Jindra Schmidt was honored for his contributions and depicted on the last stamp of a united Czechoslovakia, before it split into Czech and Slovak republics a€“ a fitting tribute. Unlike most children of immigrants, my destiny remained connected to that of my parentsa€™ homeland. My vocation as artist clarified itself in Prague while learning the increasingly obsolete skills of steel engraving. My first book was indeed, modeled after VA?chal, even to the extent of its diabolical subject matter.
Jan showed me a great deal in the following years about the tradition of books as the meeting place of art, craft and ideas a€“ where printmaking intergrades seamlessly with the worlds of language, typography and illustration.
One can like these things just fine and admire them from an uncomprehending distance, or you can become engaged. The book you hold was to have been a simple reprint of the Spawned Salmon a€“ something fun for Jan to work his magic upon. Nice sentimental reminiscences, but there is still the matter of getting the work accomplished and out before the public, organizing exhibitions, printing catalogs and paying for transatlantic flights.
The Prague show was reconfigured and curated by Jana€?s longtime friend, Ilja A edo, for exhibition at the West Bohemian Museum in PlzeA?. Quite predictably, I like seeing the kind of work I do honored a€“ the wood engravings and etchings made to shine in the context of crisply printed type and an excellent binding.
Ia€™ve heard printmakers lament that the surest way to devalue prints is to add excellent poetry, sensitive typography and a bang-up binding a€“ and then live to see the whole thing sell for half the price of just the unbound prints. Therea€™s nothing quite like seventeenth century Bohemia, the dead center of Europe, for particularly thorough violence a€“ with the Bubonic Plague stepping in afterwards as mop-up crew.
The chapel at Sedlec was rebuilt after the major blood-letting of the thirty-years war as a memento mori a€“ reminder of death. What can you say about the mounds of dead, the ruined lives, destroyed nations and misery multiplied by millions that isna€™t trite or self-evident? But then I pan over to other fields a€“ not the kind where the grass is composting my fellow man, but to fields of endeavor where the ferment is of ideas recombining into ever more refined ways of thinking. I once lived at the Golem house in Prague a€“ at Meislova ulice, number 8, in the old Jewish ghetto.
Horoscopes might seem a curious basis on which to select ministers and diplomats, but it is also more common than youa€™d think. Picture the scene before you: Ita€™s a late night in Prague, before the Marlboro man dominated every street corner, even before the neon of casinos and the vulgarity of Golden Arches assaulted the nightwalkersa€™ eyes at all hours a€“ back when darkness, oh yes, that beautiful comforting velvety, all-enveloping and blessed dark, broken only by the moon, stars and late night taxis, still ruled the streets after the sun went down. The Golem was a mythic being of Jewish folklore, created from clay and quickened by the Shem, a magical stone engraved with an ancient Hebraic inscription, inserted into Golema€™s forehead. The maternal tongues of these small nations have miraculously survived all the invasions, floods, plagues and foreign occupiers to this day a€“ a gift preserved and delivered to them across the generations. Minority languages, on the other hand, carry an emotional load that can scarcely be exaggerated. Ishi and his sister were the last of the Yahi tribe to survive the genocidal colonization of California.
Those whose language and culture are not threatened can never know the burden under which the carriers of small minority languages labor a€“ nor how those in exile bring up their children to preserve that which is beyond their capacities to save. Jan was all about preserving traditions and the kind of ancestral knowledge that today is mostly enshrined in books. Today, the stories of our tribes are less and less passed on as oral tradition and most often read to us from the childrena€™s books wea€™ve learned to treasure a€“ illustrated by fine artists and produced with care for the highly discriminating purchasers of childrena€™s books a€“ for grandparents. A?epelA?k employed binders and typesetters to present complete suites of his work and in this too, he introduced me to a new world. Later in Prague I missed my flight back, due to the World Trade Center bombing and was delayed by a week.
The difficult thing to bear in acknowledging my teachers, models, heroes, suppliers and inspirations, is that these masters of the crafts and industries surrounding and supporting the book arts are mostly deceased. The fruit we seek is not fast food, but laden with full-bodied flavors, attained by slow natural processes.
All of us come from grandfathers who once were wheelwrights, cobblers or instrument makers; men with a profound love of wood and leather, who knew the working qualities of every kind of obscure tree growing in their countryside a€“ men who knew when to reach for elm or hickory a€“ as well as for goat, dog or even fish-skins. Jan spoke fondly of his grandmother, who baked bread every week of the year to feed an entire estate a€“ farm hands, livery people, gentry, trainers and hod-carriers alike. Working consciously is the ultimate goal a€“ and that is the legacy youa€™ll find evidently contained within and upon the boards of every book bound by Jan Bohuslav Sobota.
The etchings you see here first came to life as illustrations for the wedding anniversary announcements of MA­la and Jaroslav KynA?l. Jan Bohuslav Sobota died on May 2nd of 2012 and this is my remembrance of this fine man who was a friend and mentor to me.A  He was an exceptional bookbinder, teacher and promoter of the book arts, but also an exile who successfully returned home after years abroad. In a couple key ways, if you've been to one music festival, you've basically been to most of them. Across town, Nike had a massive venue, complete with complicated, often pretty, light shows that looked like they were lifted and magnified from the Fuel Bands that were being promoted in conjunction with their shows. On Thursday, I saw Beirut, the only outdoor show of my entire time in Portland, which was nice because it was beautiful.
Going from Beirut to Danny Brown was like immediately thrusting your hand directly into a blue flame.
As much as going from Beirut to Danny Brown felt shocking, going from Danny Brown to Mirrorring, the collaborative project between Grouper and Tiny Vipers, was even more out there.
To further emphasize the weirdness that is any music festival, I immediately went from A-Trak to the much more somber Chelsea Wolfe, who has an effortless, somewhat terrifying, ability to dominate the stage. If listening to Jamie Stewart's Xiu Xiu project has ever made you feel uncomfortable, I wouldn't be surprised. Dinosaur Jr were playing a quick cab ride away, and after all these years, it's amazing what kind of handle J. In the past couple years, I've seen Wild Nothing a countless number of times, but during their midnight set, the songs felt louder and faster, more rough edged.
I'm genuinely not sure where else I could see Danny Brown and Mirrorring in the same night, and everything was just spread out enough that it never felt like I was getting bombarded with a bunch of incongruous artists in close proximity to each other.
The history on all existing mustangs is at best interesting, but largely wishful thinking, and always insufficient in proving a Spanish origin of any given mustang, or mustang population. As for the horses bred within the various mustang registries, and the stock they all go back to: their foundation stock again was picked based on histories that dona€™t stand close scrutiny.
However, mustang enthusiasts seem to be less concerned with scientific genetic tests but are intrigued by - sometimes obsessed with - anything historical about these horses, even though it should be clear right frome the start that no definite history is available.
Arguably the most popular mustangs today are those found in the Kiger Herd Management Area in Southeastern Oregon. While there may be different opinions as to what constitutes Spanish conformation - even though there shouldn't be -, in my opinion Spanish conformation is certainly present in the Kiger herd sufficiently to characterize the Kiger as a Spanish mustang.
In another article I have pointed out that the genotype of most Kigers is an Iberian one, the same one that is found in other mustangs of Iberian extraction, like the Sulphur Springs, the SMR resp. That a Spanish heritage has been cracked up for the Pryor mustangs because an Indian travel route is supposed to have run in the relative vicinity of the Pryor range may seem weird though - as if Indians ever cared to look for Spanish type in the horses they stole, captured, or traded in! While it stands to reason that, up to a certain point in time, what horses Indians had access to had to be descendants of Spanish horses, this wasn't necessarily the case anymore in later times, and certainly not anymore in the period before the Pryor Mountain Wild Horse Range was established. We should be agreed on one thing: that for centuries, the wild horses were all derived from Spanish horses.

If we consider that the multitude of wild horses, all of Spanish descent, had originally spread from Mexico and Florida over all of what is the USA today, and well up into Canada, then we realize that there isn't a single region that couldn't have had its own original wild Spanish horse population - there is no need for special Indian raids, for a Santa Fe trail, for other trails, for Texas cowboys to have brought Spanish cow ponies up into Wyoming and Montana, for Indian travel routes to account for herds in the Big Horn Mountains, etc. One could even argue that all those regions that remained home to wild horses without any particular history would be more likely to have "uncontaminated" Spanish horses, and that where ever Man - white or red - has played any kind of a role, there were increased chances for an influx of other horse breeds! In regard to the presence of Spanish wild horses in a given area the issue is not so much who brought them there, but rather how secluded could they have been there, and how isolated were they from contaminating influences.
For all these reasons, Oregon doesn't need a particular history of Spaniards roaming that territory in order for the Kigers (and other Oregon mustangs) to be recognized as Spanish mustangs - the wild horses of Spanish ancestry were perfectly capable of wandering there by themselves, and evidently have done so. However, if we are looking for instances where Spanish horses were directly taken to Oregon, we can indeed find those, too. The horses the California vaquero rode in his heyday were of straight Spanish descent, their ancestors stemming from Mexican (mostly Sonoran) horses, but occasionally refreshed by Spanish (and Portuguese) imports. We need to consider that Rojas most likely didn't differenciate properly between buckskins and duns, many of the horses he refers to here may have actually been duns. Such undertakings, with vaqueros riding California horses, could not have failed to bring such horses into Oregon! Arnold Rojas was not the only one who testified to the flow of California Spanish horses into Oregon. Early ranchers in the Camp Creek area found huge 'pots' (which they used for watering livestock) which are similar to those used in Spain today for certain mining processes. If one studies reports of expeditions to the West, one sometimes comes across accounts that testify the scarceness of horses, wild or in the hands of Indians. Rather interesting is the fact that Arnold Rojas in his books more than once mentioned Portuguese that came to California, even when the country was in its infancy (or maybe especially then). Don Avila, father of modern horse trainer and showman Bob Avila, told this writer that his name is Portuguese and that his family traces back to Portuguese immigrants. A question that might be impossible to answer today is, what is accountable for the fact that a mtDNA genotype is found in Oregon's Kiger herd that we don't find in other mustang populations. Taking a look at the more recent past prior to The Act, and the BLM's involvement, is also of interest. According to Ron Harding, Kiger Gorge reportedly got its name due to a gentleman whose last name was Kiger, and who in search of forage for his cattle came upon the gorge. So, for anyone willing to take an objective look at the history of California and Oregon, it is quite obvious that the existence of Spanish mustangs in Oregon cannot only be explained credibly, but under the circumstances was inevitable. There they encounter resident trout and bass a€“ even sunfish, chubs and dace, all keyed into the increasingly plentiful and highly nutritious bounty of salmon eggs.
Situated 90A km south-west of Prague at the confluence of four rivers, PlzeA? is first recorded in writings from the tenth century. That vision was about innovation and creativity within the context of an historical tradition. This is what youa€™ll see in a Sobota binding a€“ exceptional attention paid to context and relationships, using materials and technical means that do indeed function and last. He knew his work was valuable and documented it fastidiously a€“ confident that it would be last.
There was, however, nothing about his nationalism that demeaned anybody elsea€™s traditions or origins. That smallish incident within the parade of American fringe politics elicited an insanely violent level of suppression.
Masaryk a€“ and the cute little girl with a bouquet of flowers, is my mother Eva, at the age of three.
Schmidta€™s income from the federal mint far exceeded anybody elsea€™s in the extended family and supported a network of cars, cottages and rent-controlled flats. Schmidt, as he preferred to be called, was a man of conservative demeanor who preferred polite and reserved forms of speech and address.
While visiting their unassuming engraver and extending my tourist visa 30 days at a time, I was quietly becoming qualified for life as a counterfeiter a€“ a vocation within which, one is set for life, however it may eventually turn out. Jan allowed several binders to have their way with it a€“ amo boxes for slipcases with shell casings for hinges and so forth. This next incarnation of our exhibit in PlzeA? was all just a bit more prosaic and provincial. Is it the binding we consider and exhibit a€“ or is the binding there to conserve a text, which is ultimately the point? There are also binders to whom everything else is merely the text block, who care little if it is an offset trade edition or a book made by hand. The tales therein recorded reflected the accreted wisdom and wit of a people as they retold them across the highlands in modest log cottages after the harvest was in. The way of working belongs to the Sobota vision I addressed earlier a€“ the honor and soul to be found in conscientiously made handcrafts. I dona€™t feel that accomplished or ready to assume their mantle and yet with every generation that is what must happen.
Gravels, with just the right flow of fresh water running up through stones of the right size are but a tiny portion of the riverbed.A  The salmon must struggle past cities and sewer pipes, farms and irrigation systems, dams and turbines, fishermen and waterfalls a€“ just to reach the streams of their birth. I don't say that in a disparaging way, more just to point out that at these things you're going to get overwhelmed by the sheer number of bands that you want to see. Spread out at venues across the entire city, it is 100% guaranteed that you won't see every single thing you want to see. At this point, they're pros, and they play like they're on a reunion tour with fifty hits under their belt. If you haven't seen these things yet—basically it's a watch that also counts your steps and your calories and puts all your daily movement toward a singular goal that you set up. Even if it's in a tiny club that you enter into through an alley, and it's sparsely attended in a way that makes it feel like an awkward birthday party, or the kind of nightmare people that are about to be married have where no one shows up to their wedding except the people they felt obligated to invite. His songs aren't necessarily conducive to a live set, they're wordy and his voice is often a strangled yelp, but over the past couple years, he's managed to hone that into something pretty amazing.
The duo played in an old church, using the natural acoustics of the room to emphasize even the smallest sounds.
You know how sometimes you know a dude, and whenever that dude shows up, you get all excited because he's always the one that makes everyone have a great time by sheer force of will? There are plenty of music festivals in the world, but Portland seems uniquely situated to host something like this. They say that they go by genotyping, conformation, and history, as equally important aspects.
There isna€™t a single mustang herd that has been monitored continuously over the last centuries, and at closer scrutiny one invariably finds plenty of evidence for possible other influences.
In many cases it was good enough if the horses were possessed or bred by Indians a€“ as if Indians had ever cared about a Spanish history of the horses they acquired!
Well, now that it has been proven through mtDNA anylyses, we know that most American mustangs indeed trace back to Iberian stock. Nobody kept track of who all came through any given area within the last 150 or 200 years, and with what horses. While mustangs of other BLM herds are adopted out for a nominal fee, Kiger mustangs were the first to be auctioned off to the highest bidder and to fetch considerable, sometimes enormous prices.
This verdict is easily dismissed if coming from people who classified the Pryor Mountain mustang flatly as of the best Spanish type of all existing mustang herds - for, while there are certainly a few good Spanish types among them, there is a larger percentage of horses in that population that are of indifferent type. However, having said that, every single other herd out there varies even more, and the same with the populations within registries.
Conformationwise, the Kiger does not have to take a back seat compared with any other mustang. In assessing the history of other wild herds, people have made all kinds of claims, and most are just speculations. Indians took what useful horses they could get, and in many cases, simply what horses they could get. A compilation of historical facts regarding the Pryor horses which was published at one time by the BLM in Billings, Montana, makes it very obvious that whatever role Indian horses may have played in the foundation of the feral horses of that area, it was just a minor one at best. There was plenty of opportunity for each neck of the woods to have retained its own original band of wild horses of Spanish ancestry, not because the animals were brought there due to certain circumstances, but because the horses wandered there by themselves in their expansion over North America, and found a secluded enough spot where they could escape pursuit. Irrespective of how wild horses of Spanish ancestry have conquered the continent on their own, and how this was expedited by raids and trades of various Indian tribes, there is one general fact to consider: The California ranching culture, the California vaquero's way of riding and training a horse and of working cattle was omnipresent along the whole Pacific slope and the dominant influence there.
And the California vaquero took them wherever he went - into Nevada, Utah, and definitely into Oregon. Most of the stories told are set in the second half of the 19th century, and the early 20th century. These migrations of cattle account for the slick Visalia saddle trees and rawhide reatas one finds in use on Nevada and Oregon ranches.
One of the other ranches owned by the same company would send horses to supply the amount required for each man's string. It was not long after the missions were founded that Tejonenos had learned the value of the animal (the horse) and had become expert in stealing them. There are Spanish mines in the Camp Creek area, as well as the remains of a rock fort near the mines. Camp Creek is perhaps 100 miles from Beatys Butte (where the original horses were gathered that became the nucleus of the Kiger herd). This is to question the dates given by some authors as to when the various Indians had acquired the horse, as well as the numbers given in other reports, the logic being it being that there couldn't have been many horses in a given area if hardly any were sighted during a trip of several weeks across the wilderness.
It is remarkable that the Kigers so far are the only mustang population with individuals of the A3 mtDNA pattern, which is found in about half of today's Lusitanos and Andalusians.
Much has been written and even more has been said and rumored about the Kigers' history that is simply wrong. This widely beloved stamp was re-issued in 2000 and mother continues to receive philatelic fan mail to this day.
He died the day I was composing a colophon for the Spawned Salmon with words of praise for his lifea€™s work.
Better to take a breather, step back and pick the stuff that you really, really know you'll enjoy. It's just not possible, sort of like the olden times before having access to every album ever immediately was a thing. Every song condenses huge emotional moments into bite size snippets, their songs follow a specific structure: big drum hit, clap-along synth, and then a massive chorus that, if you can't sing along, you might as well hum because it's catchy enough. A lot of people inside the venue were wearing them, and considering Nike's lineup skewed heavily electronic, there was a lot of movement, and a lot of lights from all sides. It's not often that you get a band that's able to write songs that, if they heard them, would probably make 16-year-olds understand their place in the world, just as much as they can uniquely capture that weird "I'm so bummed that it's literally laughable" feeling that comes from being an adult. On stage, Brown is all tongue and gangly limbs, stomping across the stage like a praying mantis. On record, Mirrorring sounds fully collaborative, with Grouper's ambient song sketches pushing against Tiny Vipers' more concrete, powerful vocal performances. A-Trak is like that, except he's more just a really excellent DJ, who knows exactly how to get people freaking out before he's even 10 minutes into his set—at which point, it was all shirts off, a mass of people bouncing in tandem.
Like Tanlines and Danny Brown, it felt like Wolfe was on the verge of something a little bigger. Except, on record, he's been playing with pop structures—writing songs with choruses and hooks that fence in his vocal outbursts.

The shows were diverse (If you wanted to have an entirely experimental experience, you could, if you wanted a week's worth of dance parties, that was an option too). And the founders of these registries selected their horses based on whatever standards they believed in a€“ nothing scientific, nothing proven, some of it definetely wrong. There are some hints, and even some facts, but everything remains very sketchy, and usually unreliable. This caused a lot of envy among admirers of other herds, and also breeders within existing mustangs registries.
The Kigers are clearly the most uniform wild herd in existence today, or at least they were until not too long ago, because the management of the Kiger HMA by the BLM hasn't been favorable toward a homogenous type. Well-meant efforts to document a Spanish history for the Sulphurs have focused on the Santa Fe trail, and on Indian raids into California. The time when any relevant historical facts were recorded began about 100 or 150 years ago, and by then expeditions, trappers, settlers, and soldiers had made their way west, and horses from the East which were mostly of non-Spanish derivation had been introduced to the wild herds. This culture reached up into Oregon and Washington, and to adegree even into British Columbia and Alberta, as well as into Nevada, Arizona and Utah.
To this day, western horsemanship in Oregon is identical to that in California, and it's similar in Nevada.
The following quotations are evidence not only about California's mustangs, but also give some examples of how ranches in California and Oregon and Nevada exchanged horses.
However, I personally think it's entirely possible for plenty of wild horses to have existed in the general region where such a trip was made, without being seen at all.
Iberian ancestry in Oregon may have derived from wild horse migration and Indian activities in the area, as well as directly through Spaniards, and cattle drives and ranching activities later.
The engraving was masterfully done by Schmidta€™s long-dead colleague, Bohumil Heinz (1894-1940). The state security apparatus was surely aware of my presence, but if they kept tabs on me, I never knew. Jacques Greene kicked things off, which is actually a pretty risky move, considering he structured his set almost like he was preparing to DJ all night, starting slow and ambient before building into more straightforward dance tracks.
Zach Condon is an excellent songwriter with a clear vision of what he wants to achieve every step of the way.These songs could have existed in just about any decade since the ’20s and they would probably sound exactly the same. At this show, though, it was about emphasizing what each artist does so well individually, and then letting those things butt up against each other in a way that emphasized ambient drifts and both their considerable vocal abilities. Sometimes it feels like he's created an entire subgenre of dance music, specifically so he can get people to freak out as quickly as possible. Live, he abandons that for the most part, going completely unhinged while strumming a guitar, shooting a slingshot at a gong for the percussion and yelping and screaming into a microphone. His face looks like it's been chiseled from an ancient rock, and his baritone rings out across a room—I'm tempted to say effortlessly, but it can't be effortless.
Interspersed with newer material (which has consistently sounded great), Mascis barely spoke, instead just running through song after song, sounding like he just woke up three minutes before he got onstage.
Basically, the only similarity between Music Fest Northwest and most other festivals, is that by the end you just want to sleep for a million years. They had the best intentions, however, and along with many questionable ones they managed to save some sure-enough special horses which we are all grateful for. And even if actually more particulars were handed down through the generations in a given region, that wouldn't necessarily make the horses of that region more Spanish.
So from then on, it was no longer a given that wild horses were necessarily of Spanish lineage. Many horses were driven across the Sierras to eventually come into the hands of tribesmen in the far North. There were not really any 'settlements', because their only reason for being here was to obtain gold. One must consider the vast expanses the horses roamed in, and that they were probably as wild and shy as so many deer or jackrabbits.
Everything is just so wonderful and everybody so creative, but suspending judgment long enough to actually look at some artwork and then giving it a chance isna€™t so bankrupt, is it?
Human body parts are again flying and the Baron is at his best defeating Turks and evading friendly fire from buffoonish generals. Farmers would occasionally find their possessions and take them as souvenirs, unaware that the last Indians still lived in their midst. Damn the cost; ita€™s who we are and the last material vestiges of soulful encounters with our elders a€“ onea€™s whose stories are slipping inexorably away, thinned by each passing year and generation.
Their kids were grown and they were by then slipping into that last, reflective phase of life a€“ done competing. Sometimes people want what already exists because it's catharsis through familiarity—driving the same points home in the same way until you either get it or decide it's not for you. But it wasn't a constant build, Greene has a great handle on the peaks and valleys of a DJ set, going from moody one minute to ecstatic the next, as if it were one big composition instead of a selection of patchworked songs. It's clear that there's a lot of blood and sweat that goes into Swans, and when they get going, it's like nothing else.
What's tragic is that these special horses have been crossed on atypical horses indiscriminately - not on purpose, but out of ignorance. All that could, but will not be, disputed here, but what's not right is to deny the same for the Kigers.
And nobody ought to entertain the idea that any Indian would have missed out on an opportunity to get his hands on a nice horse because he didn't consider it "Spanish"! There is some evidence that the Spanish had expeditions as far as Canada and that the Indians (Shoshone) ended the Spanish occupation here, maybe about 1600. One can today even drive all day across America in a car, through states that are home to thousands of deer, or elk, seeing but a few, or maybe even none at all.
These scraps turned out to be a deck of medieval playing cards - the second oldest such cards known. A book is so much more than the sum of its parts a€“ and yet each of us tends to have our own bailiwick in which we shine and to which we look first. In contrast, Nosaj Thing opened a door into his goopy, disorienting world and then shoved everyone through. I'm not claiming he didn't have a normal childhood, just that he seems so obsessed with the past that it's like he's created a hermetic world around himself. At the end, someone from the crowd yelled out "It's okay!" maybe in an effort to comfort Stewart. Both, Juan Losada and George Leon of the Tejon Rancheria have told of Blackfeet raiding in the San Joaquin. The last conflict between the Indians and Spanish was supposed to have been near the north end of the Steens Mountains. These plates have been inked and wiped by hand, employing methods that woulda€™ve been familiar to Rembrandt. A woman standing next to me in a long floral dress was smiling to the sky, swaying and singing along, completely transported, like she existed in a separate, alternate reality, created by Beirut.
He called them the 'Orianna mustangs' and said that if any of the duns were left that they would be found on Beatys Butte. They crashed with my wife Jana and me in Kalamazoo, while taking the a€?orientation coursea€?nearby. I can confidently report back to my English reader, that Jan would only grow in stature for you, if you could have fully understood the subtlety of his thoughts in his own maternal tongue. As the set progressed, it got downright immersive, like he brought his own specific brand of smog-choked Los Angeles funeral music to Portland and was going to keep playing it until everyone got into it. Maybe you don't need to feel like you're missing out on popular culture or being a kid just to be a kid.
I asked him why, and he said that there were no fences there and the terrain was so rocky you couldn't get to the area with a saddle horse. Perhaps right for those who shouldna€™t have sharp objects, for fear of hurting themselves. That show was purchased whole by Special Collections at Western Michigan University and constitutes the largest collection of Sobota bindings and the most complete archive of my work.
Condon's music is escapist, and if you're into it, he's perfectly happy to take you with him.
Few people would have cast a second glance at that glued-up mess of moldering old papers before pitching it, nor would they have recognized what they had in hand or known how to restore or sell it. Maybe their honesty comes from the fact that they're able to hide the dark meat of their lyrics behind Michael Angelakos' falsetto, which can be (potentially purposefully) hard to decipher and wordy.
Of the three artists who played there, Flying Lotus is the most unabashedly weird on record.
We put some of them on Riddle Mountain and some in the East Kiger Herd Management Area, after cleaning the horses out of the East Kiger HMA. These folks were a profound blessing to a family facing some truly rough sailing a€“ a Godsend.
Schmidt had worked was signed with warm dedications to him and thus worth real money to collectors.
He wanted to see the printmaker in me come to full fruition and I wanted to be worthy of his attentions.
The family has dwelled within sight of the seats of power, pushing copper plates through a press and outlived the Hapsburg Monarchy, First Republic, Nazis and Communists.
The intact packages were still there on their shelves, all duly graded, labeled and priced, awaiting an owner who was never to return.
Even "Sleepyhead," their breakout hit, had more members in the audience humming than actually singing the words. Back home, their Czech neighbors would have envied them and accused them of theft or worse, but people here seemed to be pleased as punch to see them prosper a€“ genuinely happy for them. Those items too, kept trickling out the door, until there came a sad, sad day, when the golden eggs were all gone.
His set, on the other hand, was much more traditional, like he was pulling us all out of the amazing smog that Nosaj Thing created and into an actual club.
They bashfully admitted their foolishness and went back to making beautiful books a€“ and their American friends were so relieved to see them regain their sanity. You take time to grieve and then pick yourself up by your bootstraps (by God a€“ get a grip) and get on with it (Rome wasna€™t built in a day you know). StrejA?ek was still working, but it was all coming to an inevitable end, as he grew shaky of hand and hard of seeing.
All together, it turned out to be a brilliant bit of lineup synchronicity, and I'm glad the two artists already work together because seeing them one after another felt like the best possible way to hear their music. Enriched by my days of being nurtured by Prague, Matkou MA›st (Mother of Cities), I moved on to meet my destiny with art. A For now, if there are bugs you want--Just let me know and I'll get them tied up for you.

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