Sometimes you meet someone who makes meeting someone seem so easy.
Durán is an architect, a hip hop connoisseur, and an art collector.
I first attended the Individual World Poetry Slam (shortened to iWPS) in 2005. This is my 11th Poetry Slam Incorporated event. My fourth with camera.
I knew about the National Poetry Slam within a few weeks of learning about the poetry slam. Now I cover it annually.
The Corner Thieves play what they call “trashgrass,” a saltier, dirtier, bluer-than-bluegrass mountain music. But when you see them, that’s obvious.
A pop-up gourmet restaurant experience: The best local food, just harvested, prepared on-site, in a long-table setting.
The day I met Felix Lucero, he told me about his assault rifle cross. I documented the end of his process, and its installation at Los Jardines Institute.
They say it’s jazz in a folk mode. I say it’s experimental folk with a dash of drone and klezmer. Cloacas’s sound is warm, fun, welcoming, and unique.
He’s full of quick smirks at howling audience members, booty-shaking iron-stomping tango beats.
If you have a regular gig—for me, Poetry & Beer photography—you’re probably familiar with this problem.
Last year’s March Against Monsanto was a big deal, and the afterparty in Tiguex Park was a blast. This year’s was a worthy successor.
A year ago, when Don and I pulled out of Rich’s mountain driveway, and began the sleep-haggered drive back to Albuquerque, I knew.