Blog

Man With A Gun

Man With A Gun

There is a horror implicit in the stick-figure, “Man with a Gun,” from the hobo alphabet.  Its triangle with outstretched arms hints at a fleein...
The Blue Wound

The Blue Wound

After the Civil War, a great many of the men honored for valor could not read or write.  Less than half of Americans were actually literate.  A ...
The Song of the Devil (El Canto del Diablo)

The Song of the Devil (El Canto del Diablo)

The term “murder ballad” always sounded somewhat comic to me.  I’m not sure the first time I ever heard that term.  I’d known about “corridas,” ...
Black Sheep

Black Sheep

When he was  in his 30’s, my friend, Vince Solano, could hit a golf ball 300 yards.  He was thick, had huge arms and the strength of a weightli...
The Tiger Koi

The Tiger Koi

Over eight years ago, at the completion of The Autumn Etchings, I stopped making etchings.  I’d made them for 12 straight years and made over 400 ...
The Chihuahua Monster

The Chihuahua Monster

Charles Bowden is the Lannan Literary Award-winning journalist and author  who is probably the best chronicler of the America-Mexican border his...
The Juarez Beast

The Juarez Beast

In a conversation with Miguel Aragon; a young artist I know who grew up in Juarez, he told me that after the North American Free Trade Agreeme...
The Red Bird (For the Daughters of Juarez)

The Red Bird (For the Daughters of Juarez)

The term maquila, or Maquiladora, comes from a time when Mexico was a colony of Spain.  It referred to the price the Spanish paid the native Mex...
Bird For The Daughters of Juarez

Bird For The Daughters of Juarez

Shortly before his death in 2004, Roberto Bolaño, the great Chilean novelist, mailed off the manuscript for 2666, his sprawling, frustrating, mu...
The Hobo Smelt

The Hobo Smelt

At the end of March and in early April of every year, the smelts of Lake Michigan decide to kill themselves.  The little fish haul ass from the ...
Star For the Yellow Cabs

Star For the Yellow Cabs

In mayoral politics, Chicago has a fascinating ongoing narrative. When I was born, we had a Mayor Daley.  When I graduated grade school, we had ...
Star for My Black Irish Heart

Star for My Black Irish Heart

Almost every year in Chicago, it’s the same story on St. Patrick’s Day–a bunch of drunken, green-wearing slap-dicks spilling out of bars all ove...