lundi 28 juillet 2008
Edito: www.havana-cultura.com
Go north from anywhere in Havana and you arrive at the Malecon, the ocean boulevard that stretches from Habana Vieja to the mouth of the Almendares river. The Malecon's great attraction is the wide stone seawall that shields the city from the Caribbean and provides a prime resting place for Havana's restless population. Night or day, couples kiss, kids play on the rocks below, men fish from inner tubes bobbing
on the surf - unless, of course, Yemaya's in a contrary mood. Yemaya is the goddess who rules the ocean, as any Cuban practitioner of Santeria can tell you, and when she starts sending waves up and over the seawall, look out. Even a low-level storm can leave the Malecon flooded across all six lanes of highway. Seawater pours in, geysers erupt through cracks in the pavement, storm-drain covers rocket skyward?.
Head back inland and you encounter a tempest of a different sort. Artistic expression, surging from every corner of Havana, shows no sign of letting up. Our Santeria friends point again to Yemaya, whose goddess duties include making creation happen. It's not difficult to see how busy she's been.
In Havana's art galleries and museums but also in open-air markets, schools, abandoned factories and tiny one-room flats, visual artists are showing what they do, and much of it is astonishingly good. Some artists hope for a quick sale to a passing tourist, but many more, like most artists in the world, dream of an exhibition abroad. And with ever greater numbers of the world's art patrons paying attention, as they've been doing since the Havana Biennial began to showcase Cuban art in 1984, such dreams are looking more like a sensible career path.
Over at La Tropical and La Casa de la Musica, all of young Havana is dancing to the Afro-Caribbean rhythms of son, salsa, cha-cha and rumba that started in Cuba and never stopped, not to mention reggaeton and, of course, timba (warning: stay clear of the dancefloor unless you're equipped for the challenge of Cuban timba rhythms). Someone once remarked that all Cuban music is dance music, but that doesn't prepare you for the virtuosity of the musicians performing at these dance clubs or in just about any of Havana's cafes, concert halls, cabarets, or bodegas.
You get the point. You don't have to look far in Havana to find evidence of reativity. But you have to look carefully. You have to listen for those few notes of Afro-Cuban jazz coming from a piano somewhere as you stroll along the Paseo del Prado. You have to read the poem scribbled on a tiny piece of paper and left at an Orisha shrine.
Havana Cultura exists to enable Havana's artists to show the world what they do, and to let the world see and hear what they have to say about their work, their life and their city. It's an international effort, originating in Havana and made possible by Havana Club. We hope you enjoy the show.
La Habana,
Cuba
via
on the surf - unless, of course, Yemaya's in a contrary mood. Yemaya is the goddess who rules the ocean, as any Cuban practitioner of Santeria can tell you, and when she starts sending waves up and over the seawall, look out. Even a low-level storm can leave the Malecon flooded across all six lanes of highway. Seawater pours in, geysers erupt through cracks in the pavement, storm-drain covers rocket skyward?.
Head back inland and you encounter a tempest of a different sort. Artistic expression, surging from every corner of Havana, shows no sign of letting up. Our Santeria friends point again to Yemaya, whose goddess duties include making creation happen. It's not difficult to see how busy she's been.
In Havana's art galleries and museums but also in open-air markets, schools, abandoned factories and tiny one-room flats, visual artists are showing what they do, and much of it is astonishingly good. Some artists hope for a quick sale to a passing tourist, but many more, like most artists in the world, dream of an exhibition abroad. And with ever greater numbers of the world's art patrons paying attention, as they've been doing since the Havana Biennial began to showcase Cuban art in 1984, such dreams are looking more like a sensible career path.
Over at La Tropical and La Casa de la Musica, all of young Havana is dancing to the Afro-Caribbean rhythms of son, salsa, cha-cha and rumba that started in Cuba and never stopped, not to mention reggaeton and, of course, timba (warning: stay clear of the dancefloor unless you're equipped for the challenge of Cuban timba rhythms). Someone once remarked that all Cuban music is dance music, but that doesn't prepare you for the virtuosity of the musicians performing at these dance clubs or in just about any of Havana's cafes, concert halls, cabarets, or bodegas.
You get the point. You don't have to look far in Havana to find evidence of reativity. But you have to look carefully. You have to listen for those few notes of Afro-Cuban jazz coming from a piano somewhere as you stroll along the Paseo del Prado. You have to read the poem scribbled on a tiny piece of paper and left at an Orisha shrine.
Havana Cultura exists to enable Havana's artists to show the world what they do, and to let the world see and hear what they have to say about their work, their life and their city. It's an international effort, originating in Havana and made possible by Havana Club. We hope you enjoy the show.
La Habana,
Cuba
via
Havana-Cultura.com
Rómulo Sans: Barcelona / Brooklin
Editor Chief and Art Director of The H Magazine
romulo.sans@thehmagazine.com
www.sansinmedia.com
dimanche 27 juillet 2008
Harold López Nussa, jazz y música clásica (RFI)
Miembro de una familia en la que el abuelo paterno era pintor, el padre percusionista, la madre profesora de música y el tío pianista, Harold López Nussa nació en 1983 y pasó su infancia en la parte vieja de La Habana, “en un barrio bastante folclórico, un barrio bien del pueblo”. “De niño me gustaba el béisbol pero mis padres me llevaron al conservatorio a los ocho años, a estudiar piano. Quedé atrapado por la música y ya no me veo haciendo otra cosa que no sea tocar piano”, recuerda este músico talentoso que considera a Beethoven, Ravel y Bach como íconos que lo han marcado, músicos -dice- “que hacían la música viva de su tiempo”. Para Harold López Nussa estudiar música clásica no fue nunca una obligación, “de hecho la sigo estudiando en el Instituto Superior de Arte de La Habana y como pianista le debo casi todo a esta música”, precisa este intérprete y compositor que ha venido a Francia trayendo su primer álbum de jazz latino titulado Sobre el atelier. “Lo que me gusta del jazz es la improvisación, crear en el instante, eso me cautiva”, confiesa, y añade luego que le apasiona también “hacer la música de otros pero recreándola”. Admirador de músicos cubanos como Rubén González, Chucho Valdés, Franck Emilio y Gonzalo Rubalcava, se declara aficionado a la “timba”, una música que empezó a tener éxito en los años 90 y que fue muy criticada en aquel momento. Es, sin embargo, dice: “una representación de lo cubano actual, una fusión de quién sabe Dios cuántas cosas cubanas y no cubanas”.
Entrevistado: el pianista y compositor cubano Harold López Nussa, autor del álbum titulado Sobre el atelier.
via
Entrevistado: el pianista y compositor cubano Harold López Nussa, autor del álbum titulado Sobre el atelier.
via
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