1 June

Another day typing in a beach cafe, it's hard to find one with music that could simply serve as a background, but something else consumes me more. Dominican is a strange place, teenage local girls who to me look 13, or 15 the most are hanging out with guys who are 50, 60, 70, even 80, nationals of the US, France, Germany...like a scene from early Michel Houellebeck... The place is listed by the UN as the country with the highest child prostitution rate.  Statistics of the misery. The Paradise, rich countries run by the same guys in their 50s, 60s, 70s, 80s created for the rest of the world, the prison one's paradise turns into.

Today is another market day in a Dominican town: http://www.theguardian.com/world/2005/sep/22/garyyounge.mainsection

The girls don’t look happy, the little one sitting only a meter away from me cringes each time the American guy well preserved in his 70s bends over to kiss her lips. She would rather swim with her friends, or help her mum in the garden. But where is her mum...where are the mums of all these other girls, what fucking goes wrong here that the fucked up death smelling blokes on a good pension plan come here to fuck children. It’s not the Paradise I was looking for to finish my novel  “Sex and psychedelics”...or perhaps it is, perhaps apart from my heroine getting body painted in lost corners of Bushwick she needs something as shocking as the commonly accepted child abuse. That is the topic that needs to be voiced out, there is sex part and as for the psychedelics I am sure these guys are well aware of some psychotropic drugs that regulate the levels of oxygen in the brain extending their lives of child abusing travelers supporting the economies of the third word countries, doing a great work for the humanity so the world keeps running. What would happen if our international organisations, national governments or any board of multinational corporations were run by proportional representation of gender and race? What would happen then? Anyone cares? Sometimes you must face your own personal apocalypse to see the sufferings of others.

Naked Poetry Dive

Movement, sound, image, poetry - a universe of its own.

Performance in a converted church in Harlem NY – 555 WEST 141st Street on December 21st, 2014

‘Naked Poetry Dive’ is an experimental play, performance, a night of miracles, poetry and dancing inspired by Baudelaire’s poem ‘J'aime le souvenir de ces époques nues‘. An ephemeral project Jana thought of some time in March 2014 when the sun went through the sign of Pisces.

Performance and video starting from the concept of tabula rasa, blank slate filled with experiences that translate into the language through the medium of poetry where the abstract meanings reside. But written word is no longer enough, it needs embodiment, reality augmented through video, movement, dance, body paint.