Cuc Amo Nga
🌸🏀🧠👁🧦🐚📞💭👁🗨 New release/ Novedad
Something is moving beneath the surface of the land. It´s a rabbit digging rapidly a hole along the countryside. The bunny gets out of the hole and opens up a map to check his whereabouts. He says to himself: “Let´s see now. Through Azusa, turn left at Cucamonga… till you hit Los Angeles. The straight out Wilshire Boulevard to the La Brea Tar Pits. I knew I should of taken that left turn at Albuquerque.” It´s a Warner cartoon form the nineteen forties seen once too often in my childhood, dubbed in Spanish. The left turn at Cucamonga, or more precisely, the word Cucamonga scintillated like a strange jewel, pronounced once and again, nonsensical and bombastic. I didn´t know then that it was a valley in San Bernardino. It also explains why it was used in a Warner cartoon. You´re driving down a highway in southern California and you read a sign of the next exit. You read it out loud: “Rancho Cucamonga”, you use it in a Warner cartoon, you used as a title for a concrete poetry book as nonsensical and bombastic as the word. You say the word, you inhabit the word, you make a habit of the word -any word- you choose it at random, then you choose another and another, making a sound pattern that means one thing and the next. Words run along –never moving, never standing still- between content and expression, between Deleuze and Guattari: an abstract machine, an abstract monster, an abstract.