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As we welcome each new year, our optimism is put to the test. We bring in fresh dreams, make commitments,
In the realm where pixels dance in discord and the old boundaries of the screen are challenged, jonCates emerges as
As the digital age flutters off the screen and into the real world, we stand at the dawn of a renaissance, not of the natural canvas, but of the augmented one. As a celebration of these winds of change, Mint Gold Dust beckons you to an afternoon etched in innovation, emotion, and everything in between at ETH Denver’s Vibe Check (the Sequel) event, on March 2nd, 2024.
Unveiling “Echt”
NFTs emerged as a solution to the authentication of digital items, namely pieces of art. But as fate would have it, the rise of NFT art has intensified the question of authenticity, as copycats and deep fakes become rampant, as AI is openly embraced, and as a multitude of new artists experiment with the implications of new technologies and new takes on copyright.
NFTs have also addressed numerous issues surrounding reality, the significance of provenance, and the concept of ownership in an era of machine reproduction.
Then comes “Echt.” In German, the word translates to “authenticity” and is synonymous with “true” and “genuine.” In English, it has come to mean so much more. It is a meditation on the very essence of creation – a reminder to bring forth our most authentic and genuine selves in all that we create. Coupled with the challenges and opportunities of the digital age, “Echt” beckons us to contemplate the boundaries between reality and imagination, between what is real and what is perceived.
As you reflect on the depths of your creative mind, let “Echt” be your guide. Let it push you to delve deeper, to explore the uncharted territories within yourself. For in the unknown lies endless possibilities, just waiting to be brought to light through your unique artistic expression.
Are you ready to answer the call?
Experience the Real with Mint Gold Dust
As part of the Vibe Check (the Sequel) event on March 2nd, 2024 during the ETH Denver Conference, Mint Gold Dust will be featuring a special collection of 2D and 3D artwork from the Denver Art community with a portion of proceeds going towards the Denver Walls Mural Festival’s tech fund.
If you are interested in participating, feel free to submit a piece of art to our open call. If you’d like to attend the event on March 2nd, you can RSVP here.
A hack saw, a trowel, a haxe. These are the tools that build homes, that dig into the earth to
Patrick Amadon is interested in art that stirs shit up in the real world.
Bleak city streets, strange noises, and the penetrating scent of garbage mix with the comforting sounds of R&B and a hope for the future that nothing can squash. Nate Santana, better known as Dead Society Poetry, brings together a unique blend of poetry, music, and film that gives voice to the often overlooked aspects of urban life, casting a spotlight on the interplay between poverty, suffering, and the vibrancy of city living.
Dead Society Poetry’s creative process is a finely tuned alchemy of different art forms. He masterfully combines the rhythmic cadence of music of varying genres and styles, the evocative power of words, and the visceral impact of film to create artworks that are deeply moving and profoundly insightful. Each piece is a reflection of the raw emotions that permeate urban life, oscillating between hope and hopelessness, color and darkness.
The city, with its stark contrasts and dichotomies, serves not just as the inspiration for his work but also as an integral part of his artistic identity. The city’s influence is palpable in his art, infusing it with a sense of authenticity and immediacy. Today, we have the opportunity to gain a deeper understanding of Dead Society Poetry’s artistic vision and the city that shaped it.
Virginia Valenzuela: So I wanted to start with the fact that this is chapter 7 of an existing series and I’d love to hear a little bit more about that series and what you’re trying to accomplish with it.
Nathan Santana: Okay, so the series is titled the “City of Dreams.” To me the City of Dreams is this sociological inquiry into the ramifications of poverty on individuals and communities. And it was this idea, the “City of Dreams” was born one day just driving around my hometown, which is Bridgeport, Connecticut. Bridgeport, Connecticut is one of the five major cities of Connecticut. Bridgeport is, historically it’s one of the worst cities in the US.
VV: Why are you smiling when you say that?
NS: Because I love Bridgeport. That’s my shit right there. I’m from the projects. [We laugh.] So yeah, Bridgeport is one of the worst. Lots of crime, lots of pain, lots of misery, and it goes on generationally.
So again, the “City of Dreams” was born from observation, but it was also inspired by one of my favorite poems, “Harlem” by Langston Hughes. Dreams deferred, what happens with a raisin in the sun, whatever is said there in that poem. But there was one profound, very poignant line where he’s asking what happens with a dream deferred. Does it explode? And so, I was just really thinking about how dreams are essentially the new opium of the masses in this neoliberal society that we live in, where people are essentially hamsters on a wheel going to work, to work for a better life. It’s almost like the myth of Sisyphus. So you’re fuckin’ working. You’re working hard, but you ain’t going anywhere, but the only things that are driving you forward, the carrot on the stick, are your fuckin’ dreams.
VV: Yeah.
NS: So what we got is motherfuckers out here just dreaming all the time, dreaming for success, dreaming to get the fuck out of the ‘hood, lottery tickets, fuckin’ menial jobs. And when nothing comes, the only thing that comes is pain and misery, it’s really the only thing that’s real. Then you have a whole bunch of other coping mechanisms and you have all these negative behavioral manifestations.
I’m an epidemiologist. My focus is HIV and STIs–or STDs, is what we still call them. I focus on syphilis and congenital syphilis and HIV investigation. But my original and main interest in epidemiology was always social epidemiology. It was always looking at the social and socioeconomics and circumstances as the actual etiology of most diseases.
VV: Yeah, totally. I mean when it’s not even about access to doctors, I mean that’s a part of it too. But it’s like…something I think about a lot with poverty–because I grew up in a below-poverty household as well–it’s the food insecurity.
NS: Right.
VV: And I don’t know. Do you know to brush your teeth for two minutes in the morning and at night, it’s the little things like that that compile year after year. And then obviously, there have been all these books and studies about how sadness and pain can cause disease, right? So, yeah, I think there’s definitely a connection here just in quality of life and what that quality is when you don’t have access to basics.
NS: Exactly.
VV: Which Latinos know very well. I grew up in a food desert. We had an Associated Marketplace and everything was canned and processed.
NS: Right, right exactly. Food, that’s one aspect. And you also have a very sort of coercive relationship with labor tied to this whole dream of success, where, the lower on the totem pole you are, the menial labor, the stress is exponential.
VV: And the money is minimal.
NS: And the money is minimal. And so you’re just living this entire life where your cortisol levels are in survival mode. So the unique thing about Bridgeport in Connecticut is that it’s surrounded by vast wealth. So then you also have an added element of knowing your socioeconomic position. Income quality, and it’s right in your face. And so you get this element of shame your entire life.
It’s almost like being this colonial subject where you’re constantly reminded of your second-class citizenship. Of how you are less than because you can’t afford things, because you can’t buy things, because you can’t consume things, and in our society, in this consumer society, being a consumer is almost tied to patriotism. It’s almost tied to your inclusion in society and it isn’t just consumption of goods, physical tangible goods; it’s also this consumption of social media, is the consumption of TV shows. You’re in this conversation with someone and they’re saying “You haven’t watched ‘Game of Thrones,’ motherfucker? You’re stupid.”
VV: And it’s like, no. I got three jobs.
NS: So now I guess I’m a fuckin’ pariah, and I gotta watch “Game of Thrones.”
VV: I haven’t watched “Game of Thrones” and I’m not interested, so…
NS: Yeah, me either, I never watched a single episode.
VV: I’m watching real life and it’s just as scary.
NS: Hell yeah real life nasty, is messy, is fucked up. I don’t need “Game of Thrones.” There are so many motherfuckers out here having sex, fuck that. [He laughs.] I don’t need “Game of Thrones” to see that shit.
VV: So I think that’s a great segue to talking about this piece, “Chapter 7: Black Plastic Bag.” It’s really packed with a lot of specific imagery both in the way that you filmed it and in the way that the poem unfolds, so I’d love to talk first about all of the multimedia that you used in it because calling this multimedia seems like a gross understatement. You’ve got layers of film, you’ve got distortion, music, throat singing, noise layers, you have the audio of the poem. I’d love to hear a bit about what each layer brings to this piece in your mind, and more importantly, what inspired you to bring so many different pieces of media together?
NS: Hmmm. I’ll answer the last part first. I’ve always wanted all of my poetry to have an audio component as opposed to just text.
VV: Yeah.
NS: Audio and visual. That’s pretty much it really, I mean for that part. It’s just that every time I wrote a poem it was always very visual, very auditory. I could hear things. I could see things happening and while I don’t have the production capability, the whole multi hundred thousand dollars to actually bring everything to life. I do what I can.
VV: You go indie!
NS: Yeah, I go super indie. Look, this is my chapter 7 fuckin’ camera, this thing right here.
VV: My God!
NS: This is from 2010. I got it for free.
NS: And it’s just me and it’s my partner, my partner just helps me, or it’s on an iPhone. It’s super low budget.
Yeah, so, everything comes together. The piece stands alone, but it’s also interwoven with themes from the rest of the series. So I always envision the “City of Dreams” to be this overarching, multi-volume thing. And this would be the first volume of the “City of Dreams.” But I always envision it to be a multi-series, multi-volume ongoing body of work that is interwoven with musical overtures with musical themes.
So you have listened to Chapter 7, but if you listen to other chapters, there’s this theme that is prominent throughout — it’s like doo-doo-do-do-do-do-do-doo — that you can hear throughout the other pieces. So I wanted it to be this grand, interwoven story with multiple themes that connect throughout the series, throughout the different chapters, almost like this book, right?
So there’s the prologue and it runs through chapter 7, and chapter 7 is the last chapter. Then you have the epilogue; the epilogue will be just music.
VV: Something I really love about it too is that for a series like this, I would expect an artist to put it all on the same marketplace in the same spot and I love that you’re putting it all over the place. You have one piece on MakersPlace and that exhibition with Whale DAO, this piece on Mint Gold Dust. And it just feels like this story deserves to be on many different platforms and all over the internet. It’s a story that speaks to not just people in Bridgeport, or me here in New York; it speaks to people out in the projects in Jersey, or like, all over California.
NS: Yeah, yeah.
VV: So I like that choice that you made of almost making it universal because the themes of it are pretty universal. There are more people who are poor than rich, right?
NS: Right exactly, and there’s the pain, misery, suffering, all that stuff is felt by everyone in almost the same way, it’s just kind of fucked up. [He laughs.]
VV: I’d love to hear a little bit more about, what made you want to pick up that camera and use film in this, because a lot of people in the NFT poetry world, I noticed they tend to do more, like, AI work, or a kind of simple background with the text on top, something a little more static or only slightly animated, and you went in the total opposite direction. You created a short film basically, so I’d love to hear about your connection to film, your connection to using that camera and moreover, I’m assuming this is footage of Bridgeport?
NS: Yeah, so a lot of my pieces include footage of Bridgeport and also footage of different areas in New York City, because I have a connection there as well.
Again, the film aspect, it’s just that I always had a visual and the visual is told through moving image, the moving image.
VV: I think you were saying something earlier about how you’re creating a specific aesthetic with the film and then obviously some of the film is distorted. There are parts in this piece where it seems like there are two different clips overlaid with each other.
NS: Yeah.
VV: Like it’s coming in and out of vision. I find it really interesting because it’s not cut and dry, like the film for you seems to be just another material.
NS: Yeah, and I mean, I’ve always wanted to tell a story, especially when it comes to film. I’ve always been influenced by very avant-garde, very weird things and I like shots that are just essentially nonsensical, in a way incoherent, non-linear and it’s just like a long, still shot and there’s a lot to take in.
But I’m also telling a story, so it’s not just the poem. The music tells a story as well. The music is trying to evoke emotion. I feel like the poem is probably the most in-your-face direct part of the piece. And it all comes together really well, but when you break each piece down, the poem, the spoken word, that’s the most direct part. What I actually enjoy the most is the stuff that you have to think about, which is the short film aspect, the music. The music is emotive. It’s trying to convey an emotion. It’s trying to tell you what the real world is like. It’s dirty. It’s disgusting. It’s sad.
But at the same time there’s a break at the end like the outro of Chapter 7 where it becomes this R&B thing, and it’s like if there’s a juxtaposition where the music in the beginning is really eerie, the visuals are really fucked up; but then there’s a juxtaposition in the mood of the music, and then the lyrics are fucked up. So there are multiple things that switch and then it goes back to just me cutting myself [out of the bag].
VV: Yeah, and that’s one of my favorite things about this piece, that you can’t really get comfortable ever. You’re either being pushed to feel uncomfortable through the music, through the imagery. And then once you do feel comfortable with the jazz at the end, then it’s like bam! You come right back, and so I think that’s a great metaphor for life. Things happen, things change. Just when you think you’re living the life, then you get laid off or your mother gets sick. And that’s so potent because it kind of shows whether you’re really affluent or just going through the motions, trying to get through, bad things happen and kind of throw you off your game and it’s not different, the money doesn’t make that part any easier.
NS: It reminds me of that meme. I don’t know if you’ve seen this, but it’s fresh in my mind. It’s like “I paid off all my bills” and then there’s somebody screaming, there’s like a video of somebody screaming, and it says my brakes, my car brakes are screaming.
VV: Yeah.
NS: So right after I paid off my bills, there’s another bill coming up.
VV: That is so true! Every time you’re like, all right, my credit card is fresh. Fuck. Now there’s a new expense. Yeah, it never ends. So, let’s talk a little bit about the imagery here and what the poem is talking about, because you start with things we might find in a garbage bag and then I think it’s kind of moving into some of the challenges of living in the modern world. And then finally we land on some amazing Puerto Rican food staples, but they are also distorted.
You say “mofongo with a side of basura [garbage].” You say “chewing on rusty nails, chicharrón sleeping on the floor with a squid in a brown paper bag.” So it feels like the speaker of this poem is talking about how sustenance, it’s important, but in this poem it’s being corrupted, and obviously without sustenance you can’t survive. So can you speak a little bit more to the idea of survival and how it’s functioning in this poem?
NS: Yeah. I’m not gonna talk about the poem specifically. There’s one thing that I don’t do, and I don’t talk about the work specifically.
VV: That’s fine.
NS: I allow people to just walk away with what they want to walk away with. The context for me is just sociological inquiry, poverty, pain, life. Whatever else you get from it is what you get from it.
VV: The only clues you’re given.
NS: Exactly, and catharsis, like the most important thing, individual catharsis, what I was feeling, what I’m trying to say, my story is being put there for all to see.
But yes, survival comes at a cost. It comes at the cost of your health. All right, we talked about the food deserts, we talked about eating food that isn’t essentially good for you, despite it being food from your homeland, from your people. It’s just like super oily, super this, super that.
VV: It’s like instead of chorizo, you’ve got those salchichas, with like 1000% of your daily salt intake.
NS: A thousand percent, maybe more.
VV: Maybe per sausage. Yeah, that’s the thing right? It’s like you get really happy because you found some tortillas? Then you’re like, what the hell is in this? It tastes chemical, like there’s something weird here and like I love that idea of the cost of connecting with your culture. You’re away from it. You get this rundown version of it that ends up, maybe it gives you a little bit of comfort when you’re eating it, but it ends up hurting you in a way, right?
NS: I also wanted to play with a lot of juxtaposition. So you’re eating this food, this mofongo, you have this momentary comfort, but you’re surrounded by, essentially, basura [garbage]. You’re surrounded by hurt, you’re surrounded by pain, you’re surrounded by an environment that is covered literally with garbage. You walk out of your house and all you see is fuckin’ trash, flattened out McDonald’s cups–
VV: Heroin needles–
NS: Two condoms on the corner–
VV: Blood! I’ve seen blood on my street, and more than once.
NS: You see everything. You get a momentary comfort and after that momentary sort of amnesia, you wake up and there’s a side of basura [garbage]. And if there’s one thing about your sides, they’re always there on the side on your plate. You’re always reminded of your side. [He laughs.] There’s always the main course, but the sides, fuck!
VV: They’re not so great. Excuse me, can I send this back? [She laughs.]
NS: Yeah, I don’t want this fuckin’ broccoli. Get this broccoli out of here.
VV: Alright, I’ll skip this next question because we’re not gonna talk about the poem. I was really interested in the way the poem uses color because we start with this really dark black-and-white glitchy aesthetic, and then the poem happens and then you ask the viewer “do you feel me?” And then we switch to the jazz and the color comes on and now we’re seeing film in color and interestingly enough because of what you chose, it’s like now we’re seeing graffiti in color. So it’s like you’ve put us from black and white to color but the images that you’re showing are melancholy. I’m still feeling this darkness from it, even though you’ve turned the lights on. So I’d love to hear a little bit more about that choice. And yeah, how do you view color in this?
NS: That’s not something I think about.
VV: [She laughs.] Of course not.
NS: I’m not consciously thinking about color in that way. To me, my process is very much mimicking the chaos of everyday life. It’s experimental. It’s improvisational. It’s chaotic. This is what comes next. This influenced that, so this will come next.
VV: Yeah.
NS: I always find it very silly, in a way, and I don’t really mean to talk shit about artists, but, when all those fuckers are out here talking about practice and discipline and it’s like, okay you turning this shit into a fuckin’ job, fuck off, just express yourself. So to me that’s how I approach things, so if it comes out in a sort of way like that, it wasn’t really conscious. There’s this maybe subconscious effort to experiment, and if it comes out that way it’s because perhaps it was…I don’t know, I can’t really describe what I’m saying here, but…
VV: Yeah, I get you. That’s fascinating because the only part that has color really is the jazz. Most of the other one with the darker music and covering of the face with the plastic bag, all of that is so dark and the black and white fits so perfectly and that’s so amazing, especially as I’m thinking about your musician brain, right, that’s in the background, is probably what was working there. And so I find that fascinating because earlier in the piece, there are a couple of flashes of light and there are little tiny bits of color and so it actually made me think of “The Wizard of Oz.”
She starts in black and white, goes to the Land of Oz and it’s color, and then goes back home and it’s black and white again, and your piece did the same transition and it just made me think so much about–you mentioned catharsis. And so I was thinking about how the subject of this poem is living this dark life and then finally states this poem and then we go into a world of color. It almost to me felt like the power of catharsis, the fact that maybe after you get something off your chest that changes the way you see the world. But then he goes right back into the darkness. The catharsis is momentary. It doesn’t help, you still find your way back to the shit that you were dealing with beforehand.
NS: Right. I wrote a poem about this a few years ago and there’s a section in that poem where you’re in a labyrinth and you see this crack in the wall and you squeeze through like a tiny mouse, and then you’re outside of the labyrinth. There’s a moment of joy and celebration that then gets sequestered because the labyrinth isn’t just a stagnant labyrinth. It’s this moving, breathing machine inside of a machine that creates itself, that reproduces itself and it actually uses your brain, your thoughts to create more elaborate labyrinths to keep you inside of it.
VV: It’s like, you leveled up? Me, too.
NS: But it’s already 50 steps ahead of you.
VV: Yeah.
NS: So, in my mind that is always what’s happening. I’m breaking through and it’s the same thing with when you clean out your credit card and then your brakes are squealing. It’s just like, how is this always the case? Why is this always happening?
VV: Can’t catch a break ever.
NS: Why can I not break free without being put right back in? And I always think of fuckin’ “Godfather 3.” They keep pulling me back! Or even “Carlito’s Way.” I don’t know if you’ve seen “Carlito’s Way.”
VV: Of course. Yeah.
NS: And you block over the Bronx? Carlito is trying to get out, but, he can’t.
VV: Yeah, exactly. So before we go, let’s talk about the music a bit. There are a lot of pieces here, including jazz, R&B, and more. What was the process of bringing all of these pieces together?
NS: As I mentioned previously with my sort of experimental improvisational process, the music actually came together in the same way that “Oceans of Pain” came together.
I asked Greg Wilcox, who is a bassist, multi-instrumentalist, and throat singer, to contribute some throat singing. And he had no idea what the music was going to be like, and I basically just gave him a prompt. Do something inspired by black plastic bag. Think about that, and just whatever it is you do, think about that.
VV: Channel it.
NS: Yeah. Don’t worry about the key. Don’t worry about tempo. Don’t worry about rhythm. Just in your head, think about this, and let it out. And then there was also the trumpet player. His name is Ni!
I did the same thing. I was just like, think about this. Don’t worry about anything else. And I like that when it comes to music, that’s my approach. It’s just like the birds, the insects, the deer, the other animals, they don’t work. They’re not planning what they’re doing. They’re just going by their own tune.
VV: Just making a symphony, just like that.
NS: It comes together in this super harmonious thing. If you are ever in the forest and you hear the birds chirping, you hear the trees swaying, you hear the river going over fuckin’ rocks and shit. It’s like, these motherfuckers ain’t talking. They’re just doing what they’re doing. And so what I did was I just put everything together as if we were disparate components, but we fit so harmoniously.
VV: I see you. I see what’s going on.
NS: Yeah, the jazzy R&B part too, I remember creating that and I was like wow, this is fuckin’ amazing. [He laughs.] And my partner sang on it and she wrote the lyrics to that. I was just like “City of Dreams,” black plastic bag. Think about it. But yeah, the rest of the music, it was all me. The piano, my opera singing.
VV: Incredible.