Celebrate

Let's take a moment to celebrate the beauty of life.
To love to beauty that this planet holds. We take it for granted so very often.

We go from day to day. Living life in a gear that most of the time is rendered through our many responsibilities.
I think that we often forget and loose our selves in that grind.
We wake up every morning in a rush, and then blurr the rest of the day.
I have done this so many times. So many days. Days that turn into night and nights that turn into mornings.
I know I should look up and smell the roses but it seems like their is so much distance between the glory of their scent and the reality of my time.
But today I want to think about that, I want to take a moment to do this.
I wish to remind myself, my neighbor, my friend, my family that one second that we share will be a imprinted memory that will be cherish for a lifetime.
I know, and I hope that you know, that we are all beings of light. That definition of self  caries much weight to the individual

Music is Life Closing Reception and Art Auction

MUSIC IS LIFE CLOSING RECEPTION AND ART AUCTION!!!!

Friday, July 22 · 7:00pm - 10:00pm

Location:

Williamsburg Music Center

367 Bedford Avenue

Created By:
The Urban Individualists, Redsirens, Alain LaforestrieShow

MUSIC IS LIFE CLOSING RECEPTION AND ART AUCTION

@ THE WILLIAMSBURG MUSIC CENTER

367 BEDFORD AVE BROOKLYN NY 11211 718-384-1654

STARTS FRIDAY JULY 22, 2011 AT 7PM SHARP 

Helene Ruiz and The Urban Individualists invites you to :
Music is Life.. Closing Reception and Art Auction Friday July 22nd, 2011 at 7pm sharp
Let’s come together to help benefit A Gathering of the Tribes Gallery and WMC
We desperately need your support to come out and help us keep these venues alive in order to continue their mission.

*Live Jazz by Mr Gerry Eastman’s Band

The Williamsburg Music Center 367 Bedford Ave

Brooklyn NY 11211 718-384-1654 

30% of sales of some of the works on display will be split between WMC and Tribes, There will also be additional donated artworks that 100% of sales would be split between both organizations. Please share this with everyone you know that may be interested in helping. 

WE ARE HAPPY TO TAKE DONATIONS OF ART WORKS FOR THIS EVENT, IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO DONATE A PIECE OF YOUR ART AND OR IF YOU WISH TO MAKE A FINANCIAL DONATION, PLEASE CONTACT:

HELENE RUIZ 

 http://www.theurbanindividualists.org

                                                         helene_ruizartist@yahoo.com

ruizhelene@aol.com

UNITE

Today I want to take a moment to listen to my inner zen.
I want to hear and feel the universe.

Today I want to share my energy with you.
I want to breath and smell the sweet scent of success.

Today I want to become part of your life,
I want to be the extension to that which makes you happy.
I want to heal the the pain you have been dwelling with.

Today I wish to give back in a more profound way.
I want to share my laughter with you
I want to share my healing with you
I want to share my universe with you
I wan to share my energy with you.

Today I want to be engraved into your heart.

ART SHOW

exciting news! poetry, arts and a little belly dancing can go a long way when you are looking for something new in your life.

Let the mood take you in,

life is too short to live with out some fine art and wonderful poetry.

I hope to see you all:

Saturday June 11, 2011 at 7PM

"CEUS"
Centro Comunitario
4511 New York Ave
Union City, NJ.07087 (at the corner of 45th St)

contact number 201-617-2466

Like Water for Chocolate by Laura Esquivel

Thinking about the great stories told through out time and one great one comes to mind,
not only does it talk about the hopes and dreams a young woman but it etails in it's very core the roots that I have in my background. True, a lot of this happens to be a bit fictional and soulful to read but rest assured this book is one made with much charisma, intelligence and flair for life.
I am glad for and very proud of my beautiful Mexican roots!

I hope you find time in your busy lives to read and be inspired by this great litterature:

Like Water for Chocolate by Laura Esquivel

Easter!

Today is Easter we have much to think about. Much to reflect on.
As our lives pass us by we find ourselves in the current state of being.
I much to be thankful for. I thank God for so many things,
my family my husband and above all I thank God
for the compliment of breathing in this earth.
Lord Thank you!!

May everyone have a wonderful,
wonderful easter with the spirit of the lord encrypted into your veins and soul.
Be Blessed and be well.

SHALLOW MEMORIES

                               redsirens©TM 2000

I used to think of you in a different light, your clothes so freshly pressed.
Your smile so perfectly aligned on your face. Mirror images of you invaded my thoughts. There are moments I indulge in life's forbidden fruit and I give myself permission to let you memory go straight to my heart. I will sit in the corner of the sofa, pick up your photograph and traced the outline of your silhouette. Sometimes I would do this for hours, staring and thinking and holding on to your photo frame. But it always ends badly and in a river of tears. I loathed it and yet I always find myself back in that very same spot.
It is a religious routine I have to follow.

I wake up in the morning brush my teeth then glance once, twice, and three times at the mirrors' image. No more than three times, because it would be a bad thing to do. Then after passing my finger through my hair wrecked hair I will walk to the kitchen to brew a cup of coffee.
There again: one, two, and three times I will place the cup into the flowing water. Rinsing the cup from its sins or so I think. But never ever, twice or a single time. It has to be exactly three, three freaking times. The coffee finally brews. The smell pierces my nostrils deeply, it is bitter sweet and yet an aroma that is so very inviting. Pouring the coffee also requires this same count and attention, once, twice and yes, oh yes, three times is the winner.
I will place the exact amount of water into the pot so that when brewed it will fall exactly to the end of the cup, leaving enough room for the three squirts of creamer and the three squared cubes of sugar. There! I have the perfect cup of Joe.
The coffee is rich in texture, the cream soft, and the sugar thrilling.
Madness I know, but oh so very satisfying; the perfect mixture.

Finally, satisfied and content I will go to the couch and sit on its very edge. Never in a state of comfort and always as if anticipation has held the best of me in its grasps. It's as if I'm waiting for the phone to ring. But I know that I wait in vain.No calls could ever come from that wicked thing. When I first moved in I was in such a rush, making sure I did not break out of my routine.
Because of that I had never plugged in the stupid wire. Still 9 years later it remains the same, on the side table full of dust, but perfectly functional and without a soul. Finally, it will be the moment I had been waiting for all evening. It seems as if every moment of the day I wait around until the clock strikes 9:33PM. That is the magic hour of my existence.

I have found my way to you. Your face. Your eyes. Your picture.
In a moment I have lost my will to do anything else and my attention is yours, yours to own. I hear your voice, it calls me. It draws me to you.
So there, I have you in my arms again. Your smile, oh your smile. One could never forget or want to forget such a sweet nectar. Your eyes full of life.
The beauty of your dark hair invigorates me. How I wish to go back in time and have a moment to see my reflection in your eyes. To have them look back at me instead of through me. I simply adore you.
It's never enough to see them looking back at me from your picture.
But I need to indulge and this is the fastest and easiest way to do it
without any regrets. The color of your hair it is dark ebony at it's very best the deepest and most lavish color I have ever seen.

I have forgotten how it was that I reached this point of desperation.
I cannot recall the last time I spoke to anyone, and here in this crazy space I find myself longing for human touch. I have forgotten what it feels to have someone hold my hand. I cannot even think of the way it would feel,
the warmth of their fingers on mine. It could be that their hand might be cold and clammy. I don't know. I don't care. Or do I? Besides, isn't human contact so very overrated? Who needs this type of interruption when, as my tears fall, I feel the warmth and energy of life. There is nothing like it, so damn bittersweet. Just like my coffee. I look at your photo and think of how lonely you felt right before your death.

I remember you always taking your "quiet time" always sitting on the porch. What day of the week it was? Hell, it did not matter. You always found your way to your "quiet time". Rain or shine, there you were like clockwork.
You had your routine to follow and I had mine to engage in.
We were like two beggars in the cold, one begging for a loaf of bread and the other for warmth of a home. Still, the two of us engaging in a daily routine that was so very public and yet so darn intimate. an unacknowledged sin where you are the sinner and I was part of that sin.

Every day you would sit on the porch, hair flowing, your dress almost embedded into your figure. I watch your eyes looking, fixated on the oncoming cars that glided by. You never noticed me, never spoke to me.
It was just you and your day. You, and your fucking day. I hated you. The smell of your perfume drowned me; the essence of you in the house was like pestilence in my nostrils. But it was hard to ignore you. Your presence was solid, harsh and always in a state of unconsciousness. Your physical being was there but your mind was always so freaking absent. And still, I couldn't ignore you, and I couldn't ignore this nagging feeling of wanting love, this feeling of unconditional adoration I felt for you. I couldn't ignore this want, this need to hold your hand. I needed to feel the warmth of your embrace.
I still need that. I have always yearned for it. I needed to smell the scent of your freshly washed hair. That type of contact never unfolded between us,
I was yours then as much as you are mine to hold now.

After watching you for hours I always crawled back to the bathroom, undressed, and sat in the tub with the water hitting my head. It didn't matter how cold or hot it poured out. It just needed to be extreme, because I needed to scrub you off of my skin. I couldn't bare to love you so much.
I hated you. Do you hear me! I hated you. But still, I needed to know that my flesh was able to feel. Who was I to you? A still birth is what I believed I was to you. A nameless, faceless human being that needed to breath air.
but soulless, empty like a glass jar full of air and always empty.

My lucky day came the day you shot that damn poison into your veins and passed. That day your routine was different, you see. The day came and when you took your quiet time, something made you jolt up from your chair. You ran straight past me and into the kitchen. The needle was still in your arms as you dropped before me. Your eyes were going in and out of consciousness. At times I thought you saw me, but then, then you looked right through me like always. Like today, like yesterday, like tomorrow.

Poor little sad girl, that is what I was. There I was in a sad state of shock.
Frozen with fear and shaking a cold sweat. The sweat in my face had fogged up my glasses. Cold sweat, then hot. My body was screaming from within.
My mind was on fire. But I was motionless and unable to reach out for help.
Suddenly it was all over. You just laid there, sprawled on the kitchen floor. Your eyes were wide open, just staring straight through me. I don’t know why or how, but I waited there with you as I always had. I waited for you. Like I do every time the clock strikes 9:33PM.

Tick Tock. The clock racing. The day turned into night and then again and again. The door finally flew open and people, like ants, invaded the apartment. Voices screaming, radios requesting back up. I remember seeing the color blue, dark blue, like my mood. Dark blue, like the color of the syringe tip still encrusted into your vein. Dark blue like the color of your lips. Dark blue, like midnight's lover.

But now it's ok because now I have you, here all to myself. Your eyes, they look back at me now. I kiss your face and feel your love. Don’t tell anyone. Don't speak too loud about our love. They might come and take you away. Maybe it would be best because you have nearly faded. I used to think of you in a different light, but now I long for your scent, now I long for the scent your perfume. I love you as you loved me once. I love you as I fear you have…
One, two, three. Our eyes on mine, once again they lock.

redsirens©

TODAY

Today I have awakened to the call of serenity
I wondered how long and loud had the call been
before I focused on its sound.
It was peaceful yet troubling for I knew
that in me was there had been much turmoil.

All my life I had many, many expectations of life
of people and especially of the world.
I found that in all of this waiting
I had failed to nourish my spirit guide.

Always asking,
always waiting to received but never really giving.
Never taking the time to plow a firm ground to stand that never flourished.

I waited patiently for my name to be heard
but I knew that all that was heard back was my very own echo.
I could not understand,
neither wanted to nor did I care to understand why life was so very harsh.
I felt lost, cold and hungry.

Then one day in the middle of the night
I heard my name whispered softly into my ear.
I did not open my eyes.
I just waited to hear more.
In my heart I felt a wonderful warmth
one that was never given to me before.
It made me feel happy and rendered me,
with complete and unconditional love for me,for all.
When I opened my eyes I saw before me, my guide.
Beautiful grounded and full of sweet essence.
She stared at me with kind eyes strong and confident.
I was led back into my zen.

I know that that God has given me a sign of unconditional love
In my heart I have changed.

Today I have awoken to the peaceful call of serenity
with the knowledge that order to receive I too have to give,
plow and then, only then, will my garden flourish.

To reach the life before me,
I have to give life, to the life I live.

Redsirens

WICKED

I am the wicked that lives inside you
I roam the nights and search the skies to release my venom.
You have failed to release me from your claws,
when you are vulnerable you unleash me like a chain full of spikes.
Reaching deep into your enemies heart only to stab their fragile flesh.
I am but a servant to your wicked games.

You, you are the light in my heart.
You dwell inside my soul the warmth of your joy enlightens my existence.
I often let my guard down to let you in and explore withing my wicked walls.
In the few moments of deep connection I find my peace withing the walls of your love.

life is full of choices and I have given, have taken have stolen and have shared more then my fill., more then I wish to openly admit.
The jar is full and the the heavy storm lingers in the depths of my existence.
When you give I take and when I give you take.
what a simple transaction between lovers,
between enemies, between could be friends.
I give you take,
you give I take.
How much is not important
because in the flow of life everything ends up as equal,
as what was originally given.

The wicked in me always hungers for more.
This unquenchable thirst that eats at my state of mind.
That changes my being. Tainting every sense of my being.
This malice makes me so selfish it gives me the green light to my gorging over the fruits of your given indulgences.
I am Like a wild crazed animal, hungry for life,
hungry for existence, hungry for energy.
But you, you are so very patient with me.
You leave me to indulge and fill of the spoils of your joy.
And when I'm done, you selflessly take what has been left.
I know that this leaves me standing before you,with no shame.
so I give back to you with open arms and fill your desires so that the fireplace will content your flesh from the wicked ways of the world.
I shelter you and embrace you with my thickened skin.
I give you darkness and you make it glow.
I give you pain and you make them into jars of sweet wine.
You are the light in my heart,
you are the energy that dwells deep in my soul.
and I,
I am the wicked that lives inside you.
I roam the nights and search the skies to release my venom.
never satisfied.
I give you take,
you give I take.
How much is not important
because in the flow of life everything ends up as equal,
like what was originally given.

redsirens

COLORED HUES

My work is a reflection of self
It sets no limitations or inhibitions on the mind.
I paint what I wish people to view.

My work is the knowledge of a simple expression
- “beauty is not just skin deep”.
I too can bring beauty to light even as I stand before you in the flesh.
I let my fingertips, my brushes and paint do the work.
I have painted skies ruby red and have changed the color of perception.
I paint to ease reality; I paint to nourish my soul.
I paint to share my reality because my cure comes in doses of colored hues.
These colored hues that glow in the dark,
The colors which life is made of.

I paint in distress to validate my humanity.
My work is reflection of self.
It pulls from my experiences.
My work is yours to think about, and mine to create.
I paint with joy.
I paint with sorrow.
I paint with love and often paint with hate.
But in the end, it all falls right into the drops of colored hues.
Leaving much to the imagination and little to destiny.

My work is but a reflection of self.
it sets no limitations or inhibitions on the mind.
I paint the colored hues which life is made of.

Regrets, I have none!
I will continue to live out loud
you hear me!
I want to inject my world into yours
like universe colliding
energies revolving
I'll share my self with you
and share my beer with you
I want you to live out side of your four walls
Share the space with someone
forget to close the door and refill the cup
let it over flow, let the doors swing open
who cares. Be free.
Have no regrets, no inhibitions
live life inside, and out
If your closet is full of thoughts,
let them out.
I'm sure you're suffocating with them in you
Share your life, your goals your sadness
be involved in your neighbors conversation
and say fuck it! more often.
let your words fill that empty cup
let your energy surround someone else
let your mind invade another's life
let shame, fear, embarrassment drop out the windows ledge.
regrets, what is that word?
-Redsirens-

"To be able to stand is to have confidence. To be able to hear is to have opened the doors to the soul. To be able to see is to have attained perception. to be able to speak is to have attained power of helping others.
Karma by: M.C.

Street Folk Installations

These photos are by Tony of the Street Folk installations in Detroit. This was made by Tyree Guyton to meant to confront the problem of homelessness.

"How can we not see it?" he said of people sleeping in doorways and on heat vents. "We're all a paycheck away from the streets."


Photo 1


Photo 2


Photo 3