Sin Nombre

This Spanish-language film presents a unique and vibrant perspective of the meanings of gang, love, and family. The final showing of this film is tonight at 7:30PM

Sin Nombre (Without Name) chronicles the fight and flight of a young Mexican gang member and his inadvertent Honduran sweetheart.

Sin Nombre Click here to watch the trailer.

Even without a name, without an identity, a person is created.

sticky little fists.

insides

spirit

soul

stains

your guts and brains and thoughts.

constant, endless thoughts.

so many, all the time.

churning, swimming, soaring

flitting and shiny.

distracting.

easy to lose.

to forget.

to let die.

or to do the opposite.

and cling.

thoughts that hold tight and cling like the sticky fists of a child who refuses to let go.

persistent and whiney.

unintentionally messing everything up. 

demanding attention.

screaming.

banging wildly on your skeletal walls.

cranial capacity.

flooded.

bursting.

she grows.

consuming more space day by day.

not caring about the others bouncing around in that 

jungle gym of your mind

a bully or an adventurer?

eager to explore.

dying to stretch.

one word to put her in motion

to put life to her sketches.

okay.

okay, jump.

go.

live.

scream.

be heard.

 

give in to that beautiful crazy thought.

fly.

float.

free. 

no more sleep.

motionless escapes.

no more lazily letting things happens,

watching oppurtunities rise and fall 

okay, action.

fueled by colors she zooms.

leaving thought trails across your grey matter.

webs

pools

plots 

messy scrawls and unfinished lines.

ties that bind.

an unknown strength emerges through the disheveled globe.

connections darken strokes.

dots become solids.

the sticky persistence now acts as mental glue.

an unseen stability amongst the chaos that thinking inflicts.

warm and pleasurable. 

oh, the joy of movement.

of having a say in the direction you travel.

a savior, this thought.

this one nagging, screaming dream.

a shepherd to rogue notions and wandering waves

with persistence she saves.

with colors and courage and those sticky little fists.

gophers and knights and bunnies, oh my!

Jack, Brianna, Sam, Max, and Madeline

The Summer Arts Academy has just wrapped up Session 1. We all had a blast! The session concluded with a final presentation showcasing all of the students projects and plays. A mix of all ages came to enjoy the kids' hard work. The presentation started off with Amy Suiter's adorable Intro to Theater class, followed by an original play by Sommer Robles' young actors. Julie and Esther's pageant creation class came last, performing two scenes from The Circle of Water. They were very moving and beautiful. It was awesome to see everyone's hard work pay off. We are really looking forward to Session 2, Visual Art, happening July 6-17. 

Contact Sommer Robles at (218) 736-5453 for more information regarding the Academy.

without lifting a finger.

unconsciously you paint images in your mind.

each brainwave a vibrant shade.

wild brushstrokes.

deliberate care.

a jumble of mediums.

your own internal canvas.

vast and recyclable.  

constantly shifting.

starting over, 

but never from scratch.

thoughts and ideas act as steady threads,

 weaving images together.

in and out.

in and out.

a tightly bound picture book of your unknowing design.

series

stories

snapshots

life.

continuations and dead ends.

the interconnectedness of things.

people.

influence.

flow.

what a palette you have. 

colors impossible to physically create.

the visceral beauty of your insides.

your pumping organs.

the molecules that make you you.

that big beautiful brain.

internal.

external.

corporeal.

spiritual.

paint what you see.

create so you can share.

your mind is beautiful.

and i long to know you.

changing

If I am meant to be changed today, then let me wake.
If I am meant to learn today, then let me sit beside you.
If I am meant to love today, then let me be frustrated.

If anxious, then smile at me.
If good, then challenge me.
If anything, then be.

To listen, you write a story.
To teach, you paint a picture.
To show, you act a play.

To write, I will open my heart.
To paint, I will open my eyes.
To act, I will open my mouth.

If I am meant to be myself, then you be yourself too.
Look at me. Look at you.
Together we are waking clues
Of all the change we're meant to do.

brothers, sisters.

 

                

Morgan Ackerson, Abby McFarlane, and Julie Boada constructing paper mache puppets and masks at the Summer Arts Academy Wednesday morning at M-State in Fergus Falls. These props will be used in The Cycle of Water production put on June 25 & 26 at Roosevelt Park.The Academy is put together by A Center for the Arts under the direction of Sommer Robles. For more information call 736-5453.

A break between rehearsals, one little performer hangs back. Conversations drift from topic to topic as the minutes pass. A handful of women, all at very different places in their lives were brought together through participation in the arts. Programs at A Center for the Arts not only inspire and teach, but also remind us to reflect upon the past, and hold closely with us the things that we find dear. 

               

Generations gathered on a dusty stage. 

A small circle of women.

The eldest the director, while the little one leads.

Her soft voice like honey and air.

Magnified in the magic of the theatre.

Brushing the hair from her face

Big wet eyes well up with tears as she explains

“I  miss him so much....he was like my brother. We just had this...thing, this understanding. Family.  I just wish he would come home.”

My Brother.

The phrase ignites me and in this moment I feel so much for this girl that I just want to  squeeze her and tell her that i know exactly what she means. Let our eyes get wet together and reflect upon this boy. 

This man.

I continue to listen  to her words, 

while letting my memories play like home movies in my mind.

silent strides in the grass

both thoughtful and mindless.

comfortable calm.

my brother tree. 

wise beyond his years.

i feel like I grow when you’re near

I can feel my roots sink slowly into the soil, seeking footing. 
stable and nurturing,

someplace i cannot distinguish my dreams from reality.

a base built on the foundation of life versus existence.

the beautiful simplicity of non possessive love and the desire to learn. 


I don’t know where these roots belong, or how to anchor myself with the confidence I need to survive.

but your face assures me that I want to try. 

I can feel them stretch as they twist through the possible paths in the ground.

lingering and moving on, sometimes frozen in place.

when your mind is near I feel comfortable in the wander.

the twisting entanglement of possibilities.

my roots move more surely when your voice waters them.

pleasant guidance through the dark.


i hope you too grow when I’m around.
the tools we have acquired will surprise us both. 


lets talk tree talk all day. 

we can raise our branches in praise of that glorious sun that carried us this far. 

birthed us from the blackness of the dirt, seedlings created with the desire to spread.

engage.
share.
create.
change.
produce.
love.
laugh.

our branches will entwine as we sway and
dance in the wind , leaves whirling in celebration.

our roots have found their home in each other.

Her voice pulls me back to the present, and I remember where I am. 

Who I am with, and whose not here.

Or there.

Be brave little sister, dance with me. 

Our brothers are rooted in the deepest parts of who we are.

He will always come home, because he lives in us.

Kaitlin Moen