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Juxtapoz Magazine Top 100 Moments

December 31st, 2009

picture-2

http://www.juxtapoz.com/Top100/vaigos-y-reinas-mac-and-retna-at-robert-berman-gallery

This is a new mural my good friend Mac and I just did.

I was a great time as usual hanging with the brethren, Miami what can I say, again my gratitude to all who made it possible Primary Flight, Books , Typoe, Lynnieroc, my man Hox had a few tricks up his sleeve, to make it work, Slow n the TCP fam, the MSG players.  To all the good people of Miami who always have a way of putting there best foot forward and dealing with all their lil step children who come in town to parlay for the holiday, THANK YOU.

So as you know MacDog paints the magnificent portrait of a man he met in SF, he told me a lil about him, so I took off from there.

Two people came by and helped with the title the first was the photographer for the Herald. He Said “Seeing Signs” which I liked a lot. Then another lady came buy and said her and the city of Miami had already taken ownership and called it the “CONDUCTOR” hence the name .  Seeing Signs ” aka the Conductor…. Playing the sounds of the street following the signs on the walls.

Heres what is sais,

IF I TOLD YOU A STORY
WOULD YOU LISTEN TO WHAT
I HAD TO SAY,

THE VOICE
IN MY HEAD NO ME DEJA
DESCANSAR, LA VIDA,

SO AQUI VA LA CUENTA

HACE MUCHO TIEMPO
NACIO UNA TRADICION DE
MI GENTE
CALLEJERA

DE LA TIERRA SOMOS
COMO LAS CENIZAS VOLANDO
CON EL VIENTO, A UN
DESTINO
ESTRANO,
LA NOCHE ESTAN LLENA
DE COLORES

PINTAMOS LAS PARED
DE TODOS NOS VARRIOS
DE NUESTRA TERRITORIAS
Y TE DEHAMOS LA
MURALIA HECHO CON
LA SANGRE DE MI
PERDIDAS HERMANOS

UN DIA REGRESERAMOS
UNTIL THE END OF TIME,
TO RUN THIS AGAIN

LET ME REST ON MY LAST DAYS
THROUGH PEICES

LOS VAGOS DE LA CALLE SOMOS
LOS NINOS DE FUERZA
Y TENEMOS LAS MARKAS

Translation

IF I TOLD YOU A STORY
WOULD YOU LISTEN TO WHAT
I HAD TO SAY,

THE VOICE
IN MY HEAD, DOESNT LET ME REST
IN LIFE.

SO HERE GOES THE ACCOUNT

A LONG TIME AGO
A TRADITION WAS BORN
FROM MY PEOPLE
OF THE STREET.

FROM THE DIRT WE ARE,
LIKE THE ASHES FLYING
WITH THE WIND, TO A
UNKNOWN DESTINATION

THE NIGHT IS FILLED WITH COLORS.

WE PAINT THE WALLS
OF ALL THE HOODS
OF OUR TERRITORIES
AND WE LEAVE YOU THE
MURALS MADE WITH THE
THE BLOOD
OF MY LOST BROTHERS.

ONE DAY WE WILL RETURN
UNTIL THE END OF TIME
TO RUN THIS AGAIN

LET ME REST ON MY LAST DAYS
THROUGH PEICES.

THE VAGRANTS OF THE STREET WE ARE
AS WELL AS THE KIDS OF FORCE,
AND WE HAVE THE THE MARKS.

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