#tallervocalo

One of the fondest memories of my childhood is sitting with my cousins around my grandmother, usually at lunch or dinner time, and listening to her tall a story as we ate. Some where funny, other scary, like the one about La Llorona. They were insightful and entertaining nonetheless. Maybe I owe her the fact that I now look to tell stories, whether from the depths of my own twisted, imagination or from the dark yet colorful world that I inhabit.

When I was about fourteen years old, I read the blockbuster-like exploits that Mark Millar and Brian Hitch put on the Ultimates. My first encounter with a fascinating medium called comic books, and the combination of pictures and words, captivated me immediately. I became fervent reader of Millar and Hitch, as well of other contemporaries like Grant Morrison, John Romita Jr, and Mike Mignola, to name a few. The history of the medium led me to works from past decades and I became something of an erudite on sequential art and it's dynamic use of visual storytelling. Yes, I was a comic book geek. I wanted to do it too.

I dabbled in short fiction as well. I penned a short story for my school's newspaper, publish on occasion of Halloween. When I read that crude attempt at horror these days, I laugh at my naive but ambitious Gothic tale of a young werewolf accidentally killing his horny girlfriend. Stroker, Lovecraft and Quiroga would surely piss themselves laughing if they read it.

I eventually realized there was better, or so I think, medium for me to express my angst, my dreams, my nightmares. It is called film. I ran amok with a mini DV camera during my senior year in high school, capturing every aspect of the exciting life of high school teenagers. Perhaps is my innate nature and acquired criticism, but I feel the youth today over-documents their life. There is no selective process of material worth archiving anymore, no self-criticism. Maybe I'm just a snob.

I wanted to do this filmmaking thing right. So I went to film school in Mexico. My stance at that institution was bittersweet. There were intelligent professors, some who shine a light on me, but the founder of the school proved to be a cretin, to say the least, and I left it. I tried, sure, to enter other schools, but my attempts were futile.

I studied by myself. I watched movies every night, wrote scripts and theories, read memoirs by outstanding filmmakers and studies my bright analyst. I knew that if I wanted to become a decent visual storyteller and learn the technique and art of cinematic language, I had to continue my schooling at any cost.

I found myself back in Chicago and not one bit disillusioned. I've shot a few short fiction films, recorded musical performances with local bands, and now I'm working on pseudo documentary about my community. I'm also writing a collection of horror stories (haven't let go of that) and a short novela. I still want to do graphic novels, writing and drawing all of it myself, if necessary.

And here I am now, discovering a new, powerful and exciting medium to tell stories. Radio. As a member of Vocalo's Storytelling Wokshop, I'm preparing a story about the hard reality my neighborhood is going thru. I'm confident on the significance this piece will have if done right. And that's the only way I plan to do it. I feel both nervous and thrilled of what this new form of storytelling has for me.

This is me telling you I am a natural born storyteller expanding his horizons, ever hungry for the real and unreal, the harsh reality and the absurd surrealism. I am a modern day tlacuilo.