Sàmi director Nils Gaup may be unfamiliar to most of us, but he is a legendary director in Norway, his native country. For those who love Viking tales and the like he is also the director of the original Pathfinder, and not that ridiculous mess that was in the theaters last year either, but the better version made in Norway-though I wonder where they got their Indians?

Gaup showed clips from his latest film, The Kautokeino Rebellion, at a charming Norwegian restaurant called Smorgas Chef where a prie fixe dinner was served in his honor. This event was coordinated by the Film and Video program at the National Museum of the American Indian which has had a collaborative relationship with the Sàmi people and their film festival.

The film was shot in 35mm scope and in the dead of winter in the region where the rebellion took place which is also the birthplace of Gaup himself. He related that the story, which took place in the late 1800’s, was one that is well-known in his region. Though a story of heroism it is a tragedy which relates the massacre of a group of native Sàmi people who rose to fight against the exploitation of their resources and culture by the Germanic Norwegians. We saw clips from the beginning and ending portions of the film as he is hoping to get a release here in the U.S. But, you could see the film is masterfully shot, it truly was beautiful even on a small screen. The story is a tense drama made all the more dramatic by not getting to see the entire thing, and, of course, it is a true story, but one with nearly universal themes of cultural and economic oppression and alcohol abuse. If the film does get distribution in the United States it will be limited but I believe critics will favor the film for it’s craftsmanship and truthful story-telling. As Mr. Gaup said, “There is no happy ending here.”

Check out my brief interview with Nils Gaup to learn more about the film and himself.

*Note
a large group of people who had been at the screening and dinner enjoyed each other’s company at a bar none of us would probably ever go to but for being recommended to us. It was close by. Trust me, I doubt any of would choose to listen to the music you will hear in the background if the situation allowed for us to select the music ourselves. You are warned! HA!

Photos: Maria Colon

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Our friend and current artist-in-residence, Kimowan McLain, is out of the hospital! (Read more about why he was in the hospital on his blog.) He’s now doing some pretty cool video podcasts (that should inspire NAICA to get on the stick with posting more of ours) which you can, again, check out by visiting his blog. We want to wish him a very speedy recovery. Best wishes, Kimowan!

(Lake and the Sky, 42×37 inches, Mixed media on canvas, 2006. Courtesy of the Artist)

p.s. Kimowan’s blog has a vast archive section where you can read about his work as an artist and educator, and varying thoughts in general on being an artist (indigenous or not) in the 21st century. Check it out.

Negotiating any identity in world that is evermore globalized and homogenized can be a tricky business at best. Compound that with an identity that is in direct (or even remotely adjacent) contrast to the globalized majority and you run the risk of negotiating yourself into a tight spot. Context is everything when it comes to fully (or partially) realizing another’s culture, and most audiences’ attention spans haven’t the time for things like context. Therein lays the proverbial rub.

It is with this in mind, that NAICA attended the 8^th annual imagineNATIVE Film + Media Festival in the hopes that we would get a good dose of context in which to begin another year of curatorial internet madness. And really, for the most part, I would say we were not to be disappointed. imagineNATIVE has always (as far as I know) included a Fine Art component in their programming that not only lends itself to compliment the larger media festival, but adds a precious dose of cultural context that so many of us need to have a decent world view. Plus, as we all know, those seats in the Al Green Theatre are less than comfy, so it is nice to get off one’s ass and go look at some art.

So let’s talk about the art this year. In a co-curated exhibition at the Royal Ontario Museum (ROM) entitled Shapeshifters, Time Travellers and Storytellers, curators Candice Hopkins and Kerry Swanson created a beautifully esoteric exhibition combining works of contemporary indigenous artists and filmmakers with a few samplings of traditional native objects, such as an Iroquois wampum bag and an engraved prehistoric mammoth tusk from Alaska. “Beautifully esoteric” are deliberate word choices on my part (not to insinuate that most of my words choices aren’t deliberate…) because the exhibition was truly beautiful and well crafted as far as choice of contemporary artists and their work, but esoteric even more so, mainly for the decision to include these few traditional objects from the ROM’s “cultural” collection with an almost arbitrary flair. I don’t want to equate it to that “primitive” art exhibition scandal in New York many years back (at which museum now escapes me) in which the curators exhibited artists like Picasso alongside categorically de-contextualized African and South Pacific carvings. But… then again, I must compare in that way simply because that is what came to mind when viewing these traditional objects in the larger context of contemporary indigenous based art. As an objective viewer, I simply had no idea what they were doing there.

I know that historically, the ROM has had a somewhat spotty reputation (on par with the Smithsonian here in the States) for exhibiting indigenous-made objects in an anthropologically patronizing way, and that the curators of this exhibition, in part, desired to display these objects, contemporary and traditional, side-by-side in order to weave a dialogue of past and present indigenous identities. The problem was that instead of a time-traveling, shape shifting dialogue, you simply had a wonderfully curated contemporary indigenous art exhibit with a random sampling of anthropological tidbits. There was no talking between the contemporary and the traditional. They were like silent strangers, awkwardly crowded together on a subway car.

The curation of contemporary work was pretty much spot on though (aside from the exhibition space being a little weird), and I wish that these pieces (from artists such as Kent Monkman, Cheryl L’Hirondelle, Brian Jungen, Isuma Productions and the wonderful Alan Michelson) had been left to stand alone, on their own merits and on their own strengths as pieces of powerful storytelling. It wasn’t that the traditional objects took away from the exhibition necessarily; it was more that they didn’t add anything to it. And certainly these objects did not give the viewer the dose of context that I believe the curators were going for.

I digress though, because what I really wanted to talk about were the contemporary pieces, as that is what I believe imagineNATIVE does best; contextualize contemporary indigenous artists for a broader audience. There are plenty of great pieces to mention, but I will stick with my favorites, the ones I spent the most time with, and refer the reader to the podcast (below) between myself and Maria Colon, for further information and opinions on the exhibit in full.

First I have to mention the piece by Brian Jungen, Cetology, a 40 foot sculpture of a whale skeleton made out of plastic lawn chair parts. It was suspended from the ceiling by wires, like a dinosaur in a natural history museum. I mention this piece first simply because it visually dominated the exhibit, and also because I feel it did more to set the stage for dialogue between past and present than say, the wampum wallet or the mammoth tusk. It also challenged the viewer to look past the obvious contexts of contemporary objects (read: plastic lawn chairs) and anthropological references (read: natural history lookin’ skeleton) and determine the fragile space between the two. That fragile space is exactly the space contemporary indigenous artists must negotiate.

Another great example this carefully negotiated space: a piece by Faye HeavyShield, entitled hours, which was small, white book, whose pages were completely constructed out of seed beads. I don’t need to mention the correlation between traditionally exhibited Indian beaded objects and HeavyShield’s piece, but I will mention it simply for the fact, that yet again, this contemporary work did not need no wampum wallet to contextualize it for the audience. It spoke for itself.

Other great pieces were an installation by Nadia Myre, The Dreamers, which was a sprawling sculpture with spears and traditional Innu fishing nets, a 13-part video installation Nunavut (Our Land) by the beloved Kunuk and Cohn of Isuma Productions, and three mixed media objets d’art by the imitable Kent Monkman, who despite his tendencies to be extravagant for the sake of being extravagant, does a damn good job of negotiating the fragile space mentioned above. Not to mention he’s openly gay, which adds a whole other ingredient to the identity pot. But my favorite work by far was Light After Darkness, a video triptych by US artist, Alan Michelson. With titles (and an artist’s statement) taken from a melodramatic 1907 quote by Edward Curtis, Michelson paints a digital portrait of an ever-changing contemporary indigenous landscape. These three real time videos of urban skylines, displayed in gold frames like Remington landscapes, moved slowly from daylight to dusk, deluminating the industrialized cities of Ontario. All they needed to contextualize them was an incongruously gleaned quote from the Great Father of Indian Portraiture:

Alone with my campfire, I gaze about on the completely circling hill-top, crested with countless campfires, around which are gathered the people of a dying race. The gloom of the approaching night wraps itself about me. I feel that the life of these children of nature is like the dying day drawing to its end; only off in the West is the glorious light of the setting sun, telling us, perhaps, of light after darkness.

Edward S. Curtis, 1907.

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The NAICA crew made it to Toronto about four hours shy of our goal of 4pm-why was this? Well crossing the Triboro Bridge in Queens in early morning commuter traffic is frenzied confusion. My instincts said “stay left!” but the Google directions merely stated, “head towards I-87/Randall Island/Major Deegan Expressway.” Of course this sign harking all three of those diverging (not merging!) directions was on the right hand side leading to an off-ramp exit. Sonny yelled, “Get in the far right lane!” I gunned it across three lanes of traffic trying to make what we thought was the correct exit only to find that it lead down into Randall’s fucking Island which then led us to the FDR expressway into Manhattan for a little tour of mid-town.

Now I don’t normally drive in NYC and I certainly had no desire to drive through rush hour traffic but that is exactly what we did. I ended up taking the Queensboro Bridge, a bridge I normally take while on a train, back across into Queens. We passed my street-where we started off at 5:00am-it was now 7:45 a.m. Sonny and Renee claimed they were enjoying the sunrise over the East River, but I was pissed. We ended up following the Google directions from our starting point this time staying way the fuck in the left lane. LEFT dammit. We made it across the bridge into the Bronx across another bridge over the Hudson and into New Jersey. We were on our way having only wasted two hours of time.

hahahahaha boy o boy ha! Adventures.

We made it to Syracuse 1/2 later than I wanted but things were looking good. However, the trip was marked by confusing directions and would also be marked by tire blows, lost camera equipment, missed panel discussions, snubs at theatre doors, tiny hotel beds that barely accommodated our height (Torry, Sonny and myself are or are over 6′0 tall), and many feet related pains…and blood. I forgot to mention various parts of our bodies oozing blood. That is how committed we are to supporting indigenous cinema and art.

So here in summation are reviews of films I saw in an actual theatre the rest I saw at the convenient Mediatheque center where “delegates” can watch films they wanted to see again or films they missed. I missed quite a lot. You can imagine I spent as much time as I could in there without missing even more.

A Sister’s Love: Film Block
Two films-a feature and a short-which focus on the apparent abuse and violence Native women face everyday.

The Valley
Dirs. Peter Brass and Helder Mauricio Carvajal (above)

We arrived about four minutes late missing the entire opening sequence of this short film but from what I saw it was well constructed, mercifully devoid of dialogue, and short. Basically it was one long sequence of a presumably white man dressed in fatigues and/or hunting chic attire driving a rusty Subaru out to a field where he then pulls a dead body-presumably Indian-out of the hatchback and digs a shallow grave for her to rest. We know it’s a woman because she is wearing pantyhose and nail polish on her toes. Of course it could have been a tranny. Given the overtly gay presence at the festival this idea is not too far fetched. However, the directors (it took two to make a ten minute short!) ensured us the body was to be read as “female.” After he drops the last of the dirt onto the grave the “white” male returns to his car and drives away. We are left with the fading light of evening and the haunting night sounds of the bush. Like I said, it was well-constructed, including excellent sound design. The two directors were also very cute. Very cute! I would later go on to mistake one of them for the performance artist/painter/ Kent Monkman. We had at least a five-minute conversation while dancing at a party before we both realized I was meaning to gush over someone else. He was nice enough to laugh about it.

A Sister’s Love
Dir.Ivan Sen

This pseudo-documentary was an irritating mess. Everything was wrong about it. I hate documentarians who over director their subject. The effect feels like they’re waving a red flag in your face “look this way! think this way!” Let me think what I want to think, for fuck’s sake.
A documentary is supposed to be an OBJECTIVE view of a realistic experience. A Sister’s Love was nothing close to objective. How could it be when the protagonist-cause trust me aborigine journalist/actress Rhoda Roberts ensures you view her as a protagonist-obviously had her nose all up in the director’s ass on this one? Honestly, I believe a documentarian should never allow the subject to dictate the direction of the piece otherwise your vision is compromised. Conversely, I don’t believe a documentarian should construct their own truth by manipulating their subject to perform for the camera and therefore manipulating the audience. In the case of this film I believe both the director and his subject, who was a stage performer at one point in her life, unwittingly worked against each other instead of shedding light on the mysterious disappearance and ultimately tragic death of Ms Roberts twin sister Lois.

I don’t want to give a sequence by sequence critique but, I will say that this enterprise came across more like a narcissistic catharsis for Rhoda Roberts than what I assume was a statement against the lack of interest by the authorities who were depicted as uncaring towards the concerns of the native population. The film also made Lois, whose life and tragic end was supposed to be honored, come off as a wild child in comparison to her sister Rhoda “the good girl” (Rhoda making the comparison herself). In this film Lois is positioned as a rebel stoner who couldn’t manage her own life let alone take care of her illegitimate child whom Rhoda later takes in as her own congratulating herself for building a successful life while her sister falls apart. It was a disgusting display of microscopic empathy and delusional self-aggrandizement. I half wished Rhoda Roberts, who tackily allowed the camera man to video her while she marked the spot where her sister’s headless body was found with a “bush cross”, would also suffer a similar fate. While she is being attacked in the woods the camera-man would continue rolling for our viewing pleasure.
In summation-director Ivan Sen allowed Rhoda Roberts to run emotionally amok juxtaposing her successes with the failures of her twin sister’s life. Perhaps the effect, which comes off a cruel, was unintentional? Certainly it lacks much needed subjectivit. The whole thing is cruel none the less. If my sister “loves” me the way Rhoda shows her love in this mess I hope I’m allowed to come back and haunt the rest of her days.

(boo! what was that?)

Navajo Spotlight 1: Film Block
A block of films “curated” by little known actress Charmaine Jackson John.

Intrepid Shadows
Dir. Alfred Clah
A black and white film made in 1968. Evidently, a group of anthropologists came to the reservation with cameras asking Dine to make what they consider a “Navajo film,” Clah was one of them. Though the community has yet to define their own cinema I argue that Intrepid Shadows is a good reference point to start from. Everything about it is above par: the exposure, composition, and editing were cohesive; the symbology used seemed intentional which belies forethought. Though there was no sound I still felt a message was conveyed, perhaps mysterious to me as an outsider, but nonetheless present and discernable. The same cannot be said for the rest of the films seen in this block, save but two. Also the performance by a young Dine dancer, which took place in front of the screen during the first crucial five minutes, was unnecessary. Perhaps the curator felt this lent her art film credibility but it detracted from the film and the point of this program was to introduce the concept of a Navajo cinema not Navajo modern/traditional dance. The two are mutually exclusive unless you are Martha Graham or Martha Graham-like.

Horse You See
Dir. Melissa Henry
Henry’s video piece is a well-developed idea relating the nature of being Navajo and Indian through the voice of a horse that speaks Dine. The over-all effect reminded me of the short PSA’s seen in episodes of Sesame Street, which I found charming and nostalgic. For some reason a Dine speaking horse is quite hilarious. It garnered a lot of laughs from the mostly indigenous audience. I’m not certain that was the director’s intention but I suppose I’d take laughing over booing. ON the other hand if it was intentionally funny then I’m not sure what was so amusing, which is why I am not an Indian and certainly not a Navajo. Humor is culturally relative. This is why it is successful: it utilizes a simple film/television trope- imbuing animals with human characteristics-to enjoyable effect. Additonally it relates identity, which can be a prickly subject, in palatable format that can open a dialogue without causing distress.
I thought it was the best representation of Navajo media-making in this block.

Making a Stand at Desert Rock
Dir. Klee Benally
This is a PSA not a documentary and certainly not anything near “cinema” in its classic definition. Although Klee Benally and his family are known for their political activism. to which they should be applauded, and their video and musical work is well crafted, this video has its flaws, namely it’s too short to get across the all that it needs to to ensure the audience understands their position. In fact, many of the shorts in this block were too short for their subject.
At any rate, I see this video as part of a series of PSAs on native land rights on POV or in another film block focusing on land rights but not in one that is positioned as an introduction to a nation-based cinematic movement. In this context it is the odd video out.

Grace
Dir. Darwin Roanhorse
Roanhorse is a graduate of Ivy League Columbia University graduate film school. That’s a pretty impressive start for a film career and his style bares the hallmarks of a learned film maker. However, I also found this film to be too short to encompass the emotional/psychological arc it presented. It is a typical coming of age story but one that requires more thoughtful acting and more dialogue to fill out the emotional spaces. In fact amateur acting is the primary reason this film suffers. Something just seemed out of step between the pace of the camera shots, the truncated dialogue, and the actor’s delivery. Due to these problematics we never know what prompted the young girl to begin making banana muffins to rival her elder’s, the protagonist Grace who sells them at a local tribal office to make extra money for her family who is in need. Is her motivation simply avarice, stupidity or PMS? We never know because it is never established (one scene, two lines of dialogue max would have taken care of that). Nor will we know what transpired to make her realize she is in the wrong for competing with her elder. She simply pays the old woman a visit and tells her she is returning home-where ever home is for her. I was unsure how to read this exchange as it came abruptly and just as abruptly the film ended. We have no choice but to read the young girl as a total twat-like most teenage girls are these days-who has no respect for her culture or her elders. I doubt this was the director’s intended effect, but that is how this film plays out.

A Deadly Affair
Dir. Mike Goodman
A deadly affair indeed! I sat through this short thinking it was too long and then wondering what the fuck the punchline was cause it certainly had to be a joke. In any case I am familiar with the often times merciless process of creating work-art or film. But one must prevail over ones obstacles, and this film had some overt obstacles to overcome. Whatever the reasons for its short-comings and flaws it does not belong in a festival. Not yet anyway. Also if this is Navajo cinema? hmmm.

D.C. Navajo
Dir. Shonie de la Rosa
Written by Melissa Henry this is a silly short that pokes fun at tribal politicos who care more about under the table deals and the high price of D.C. coffee then the members of their tribe back home. It suffered from some technical deficiencies and obvious pirating of copyrighted music but it was a hoot to watch nonetheless.

Share the Wealth
Dir. Bennie Klain
I saw this short in Austin Texas at Cine Las Americas film festival. I wasn’t sure what to make of some of the symbols used, but after the Q&A I had a better understanding of how to read the film. I also saw Klain’s documentary Weaving Worlds-a masterful work.

Contest
Dir. Sunrise Tippeconnie
I really enjoyed this short. I wasn’t sure what direction it was going in and I could have done without a few scenes but all in all it was the best narrative in the bunch with believable acting, good camera work, and well-placed film references. A major plus was three really cute Indian boys. Wink wink.

In conclusion:
Several films were good, but taken together those of lesser quality diminished the great potential this block held. It is obvious that some directors lacked talent where others exceeded it. I blame this on the curator. A conscientious programmer would ensure all artists’ works represented the theme concisely and artistically. I believe the lack of experience in film programming, and especially film history and criticism, lead to this disjointed display. If this is Navajo cinema than it has a long way to go before it makes a mark in history. However I know there is more out there and a lot of it is good and because the quality work being made is good I know we’ll be seeing more about this film movement.

Shorts from the Underground: Film Block
The best block in the festival.

The City
Dir. Abraham Coté
“A man from our ancient past has premonitions of the urban chaos that will invade the pristine wilderness surrounding him. In terror, he frantically races to save his family from the horror of the future.”
This is from the festival catalogue…I probably should have read that before watching this because I thought it was senseless. However props to the director who worked with the Wapikoni Mobile Media unit to get this piece made.

Zach Kunuk by recycling center bins

Issaittuq (Waterproof)
Dir. Bruce Haulli
This was produced by ISUMA productions run by Zacharias Kunuk and Norman Cohn. If there is a native cinema at all these films out of Igloolik represent what it is. I liked the film a lot but it bares the style of Kunuk-if Kunuk has a style which I reckon he’d argue he doesn’t. Still for a first effort it is professionally produced and very well acted.

The Burden Carriers
Dir. Pierre Barrera
I have no idea what this was-except polished. Obviously, it’s an experimental piece. In fact it should have been programmed into the experimental block since none of what was in the experimental block qualifies as experimental. Nonetheless I found it tedious to watch. It just didn’t capture my imagination or hold my attention.
Though Torry has other things to say about it so look for his review and interview with the director in a future editions of NAICA online.

The Colony
Dir. Jeff Barnaby
Barnaby was featured in a past edition of NAICA online. He’s odd in a good way. Personally I love his work. As a photography snob I find his visual aesthetic rich and as stylized as the best David Lynch-the best being Mulholland Drive-but his visuals are also sullied in a way that makes you cringe. You get the feeling more is going on in the shadowed corners of rooms and his character’s minds.
In The Colony we get more of the same but with references to an advanced Cronenberg derangement. However, where Cronenberg goes for over the top depravity Barnaby peppers his scenes with a poignant edge. The story is rather simple: Indian man loves his stripper Indian girlfriend who doesn’t look much like an Indian who then fucks his white work buddy leaving Indian man because she’s pregnant with work buddy’s kid and he has more drugs. Sad and tragic?
Sure but simple men always fall for drug-addled strippers. After all, for a anorexic druggie she did have nice tits and ass. Funny how that works out on film huh? Still, you empathize with the Indian for wallowing in self-denigrating behavior but even more so for losing his Indian girl to a conniving white man.
The Colony is a mere 23 minutes of tension. The film should be developed into a feature but if that doesn’t come to pass then I can’t wait until someone gives this guy a bigger budget.

RITES OF PASSAGE: SHORTS PROGRAM
This block of films was marked by really bad work that should not have even been considered for entry into the festival. However three films stand out as shining examples of the craft of short film.

Primera Comunión
Dir. Daniel Eduvijes Carrera
A heart wrenching depiction of a poor Indian boy on the streets of a Mexican pueblo. I could barely watch this film because of the child on child violence. The fact that I have seen these children while living in Mexico, and the fact I grew up in a violent neighborhood in Chicago where children also committed heinous acts of violence against each other intensified my overwhelming sadness. One scene in particular made me cry the most: we see the young protagonist-if you can call him that because we see him commit some naughty acts himself-on a dusty street begging the passers-by to purchase chiclets (a Mexican chewing gum) crying that he is hungry. I really lost it there because it reminded me of this night in Mexico when I was totally broke myself. I had just borrowed the equivalent of five bucks from a friend who also bought me dinner in the form of one of the corn on the cobs doused with lime and chili powder that the street vendors sell. We were walking back to the university crossing the town square where many indigenous people lay about with their children begging for change and/or food. A small boy no more than six approached me asking me for the corn. I pretended not to understand Spanish so he said it in what I assume was his native dialect. Though I didn’t understand him I knew what he was asking. I immediately felt terrible but I didn’t give him the corn. My friend told me to keep walking, just don’t look at them. As we moved passed I heard him say, “I’m so hungry” in his little voice. Just like the boy in this film, and like many of the people in the town who walked passed the boy in Primera Comunión I did the same to this little boy. I’ll always remember that and feel ashamed. In a way that was my own rite of passage because I grew up poor and was one of those children like the one I met and the one depicted in this film, but I grew up to be a self-centered middle class asshole. Of course today I gave $175.00 to Breast Cancer Research and I give my time to NAICA, but I should have given that child the fucking corn on the cob. I guess I’m saying this film did a good job of reminding me to be more generous to the right people. I’ll never know if I helped some woman find a cure for her cancer but at that moment in Mexico I would have known that a six year old didn’t go hungry. And you know what? He more than likely would have turned around to share with his family. Man I really am ashamed of myself right now. See? Films do teach us life lessons-when they are well constructed and well acted that is. This one most certainly was.
(Nanobah Becker gets props for helping the director with the screenplay. EXCELLENT work!)

Fifteen
Dirs. Cody Cayou and Travis Tom
This short video was produced through Longhouse Media out in Seattle. The child really has talent-Cody Cayou. He co-wrote, produced and directed this film with his friend Travis Tom. It’s about a boy who is pressured by his carefree friend to have a drink which turns into a few too many. We see them cavort in a field, which I have to say, looked like fun but I was skeptical that running around while supposedly drunk is possible. Maybe when you’re fifteen it is? I never drank when I was a kid so I can’t say. Of course like some fun times it turns to tragedy. Seriously this kid has talent. Let’s hope he does something with it.
You can see this short on Longhouse Media’s website:
http://www.swinomish.org/native_lens/home.html
If not, email them and ask to see it. It’s worth it.

Taua (War Party)
Dir. Tearepa Kahi
Visually stunning with minimal dialogue, but you didn’t need it. Certainly one of the best short films I saw at imagineNATIVE this year. No surprise it is a New Zealand production. Two young boys ride above in a war canoe carried across land by the elder tribesman whom they serve water to along the way. Tied to the head of the canoe is a captive who is intermittently beaten upon by the leader of the war party. It’s a simple piece-direct but effective. Again this film is visually stunning and very well executed by the director and the actors. Since there is minimal dialogue (does grunting and Maori haka chants count as dialogue?) the director had to rely on the strength of his actors especially the two young boys who naturally fell into their parts. An effective, no, great, short masterpiece in cinema.

I spent lots of time in the Mediatheque center as well, having missed the Thursday night experimental block. I’m now glad I did for they were anything but experimental.
To hear more from NAICA’s crewmembers download the podcast.

All photos: M. Colon

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