There is an interview with art critic Dave Hickey in the current issue of The Believer. I was flipping through and I saw another image by Gajin Fujita, so I decided to give it a read. Apparently, one of the reasons that there aren't many career art critics today is because "a whole generation of critics died of AIDS in the ’80s."
But I'm posting the reference for completely different reasons. At one point in the interview, Hickey suddenly takes an interest in the age of his interviewer, a female. She says she's thirty years old, and Hickey responds
"Great! You’re a bright young thing. You have all the way till you’re forty to totally fuck up your life. It takes that long, if you’re really talented, to really fuck everything up. You just go up and up and up and up, and all of a sudden you’ve got three ex-husbands, a broken-down Porsche, a bunch of leather clothes, some haute-couture accessories, and no prospects at all."
Opinions like that really just hit you in the face sometimes with just how someone else's perception of life can change with age and experience. So, finding myself in a strange relationship with my youth, I appreciated this odd piece of advice from this unashamedly odd, John Falstaff sort of guy.
Also, the images in the latest New American Paintings are really nice.
*
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Saturday, November 10, 2007
Art Papers Live
(Above: photographs and collaborations by Walid Raad)
I've experienced a range of emotions towards Art Papers magazine in the past. At first, I was ecstatic to see a nationally recognized arts publication based right here in Atlanta. That initial elation, however, subsided when it became clear that the magazine maintains very little interest in artists operating in its home city. Things have certainly changed since the 1970s and the Atlanta Art Workers Coalition Newsletter.
At the same time, I can't deny that Art Papers provides a very important service to the area. I've only attended three Art Papers lectures, but I would say that Walid Raad's presentation on Wednesday was one of the most pleasant so far. The man is talented storyteller, and he has a real sense for history and how it affects our perceptions of the world.
Raad's collaborative project, Already Been in a Lake of Fire, dynamically examines the history of the Lebanese Civil War through an exhaustive account of wartime car bombings. After months of relentless investigation into nearly 250 detonations, The Atlas Group produced a number of mixed media images, presented collectively as the first volume of a fictional encyclopedia about the conflict.
The goal of the project was not a precise, scientific assessment of facts, nor was the intention about fabricating information. I believe the phrase that was used was "an aesthetic history," an account that could really deconstruct the invisible connections between violence, political power, and the journalistic establishment. By carefully following in the footsteps of the journalists, career photographers, and primary investigators surrounding the bombings, Raad was able to deliver narratives hidden behind the headlines.
I think that was the most striking aspect of the presentation. In a world dominated by commercial media, I sometimes wonder if we have really started to perceive the world in terms of a sequence of disconnected "news" events. Although it would be foolish to reconstruct history as a single, uniform continuity, I can see a lot of value in exploring the past in terms of multiple converging narratives. Artists stand in an excellent position as storytellers, and I think there is a great need for radically reevaluating the transmission of world events today.
**
Thursday, November 01, 2007
Rethinking Lowbrow
(Above: Gajin Fujita, Redlight District)
I've had the entire month of October to examine and rethink my position on Juxtapoz and the Lowbrow movement. I suppose I must have sounded like a parrot, or atleast a prude, when I joined the dozens of "establishment" voices in opposition to the Juxtapoz aesthetic. Although I haven't completely reversed my position, I can finally look at the magazine with a fresh pair of eyes.
I believe it was was the image on p.85 of October's Juxtapoz that really turned my head. There was something in Fujita's mounted samurai that was austere yet electrifying and powerfully fresh yet at same time intensely bound to tradition. I was confronted by that quietly explosive image of bushido rendered in cobalt and crimson spray paint. The piece successfully married the sensibilities of modern graffiti, Ukyo woodblock prints, and if my instincts serve me well, the equestrian tradition of Mongolian painting.
Lowbrow, as identified with Juxtapoz founder Robert Williams, poses a number of unique questions today. Can Lowbrow retain its momentum as a force of change within the arts community when it has certainly outgrown its roots as an isolated, underground movement? In what ways can artists reconcile personal and local identities with an increasingly global culture? In what ways can artists appropriate imagery from graffiti and pop culture in historically meaningful ways?
After just a little reflection, I can see clearly that Lowbrow has accomplished a very, very important task. The space has widened for more people to participate in creating and appreciating art than ever before. And the best part is we don't have to be filthy rich to get inside.
At the same time, the people entering the arts community today are members of a very different generation than Williams, R. Crumb, and the other Zap Comix contributors of the 1960s and early 70s. The questions posed by Lowbrow have existed for several decades, and the cultural terrain continues to change right underneath our feet. It's the ground we've inherited, and I believe we have the power to decide what that means.
**
Friday, October 26, 2007
Deconform is now
available in limited distribution at several Atlanta and Decatur locations, including Java Monkey coffee house & wine bar, Eyedrum Gallery, Young Blood Gallery, Midtown Art Cinema, and Oglethorpe University Museum. After a month's delay, I'm proud to say that the Fall issue exists. And it looks great. Kudos to designer Robert Burroughs on a fine job overall.
The artist interviews are a good read: Kiki Blood, Ben Fain, Yusef M. Sharif, and Constance Thalken lay down their thoughts on art and politics with refreshing honesty and bravado. I was surprised to learn about Thalken's photo project on the brutal realities of alligator harvesting in the Southeast. Also, I think Rick Jackson's piece on the Subversive Absurdists is especially strong (Deconform p.23).
My own writing will not appear until the next issue. It was a collective, editorial decision, and there were handful of ideas that were left on the cutting table. Looking back at my notes from last month, I realize just how much my job was eating my brain. It was hard to tell at the time, but I was a nervous wreck. I've taken the time to recuperate, catch up on some reading, and fool around with Live Journal.
I posted below some approximations of writing I decided to abandon, pulled from various notes here and there. The August piece, which I don't feel too great about, is an opinion/feature surrounding shows I attended in July. The September feature story, which I think is a little better, centers on Beep Beep Gallery.
The next issue is due in January, and we plan to increase our distribution. Let me know if you think there are more businesses out there that would be a good home for extra issues.
See ya around. ;)
*
The artist interviews are a good read: Kiki Blood, Ben Fain, Yusef M. Sharif, and Constance Thalken lay down their thoughts on art and politics with refreshing honesty and bravado. I was surprised to learn about Thalken's photo project on the brutal realities of alligator harvesting in the Southeast. Also, I think Rick Jackson's piece on the Subversive Absurdists is especially strong (Deconform p.23).
My own writing will not appear until the next issue. It was a collective, editorial decision, and there were handful of ideas that were left on the cutting table. Looking back at my notes from last month, I realize just how much my job was eating my brain. It was hard to tell at the time, but I was a nervous wreck. I've taken the time to recuperate, catch up on some reading, and fool around with Live Journal.
I posted below some approximations of writing I decided to abandon, pulled from various notes here and there. The August piece, which I don't feel too great about, is an opinion/feature surrounding shows I attended in July. The September feature story, which I think is a little better, centers on Beep Beep Gallery.
The next issue is due in January, and we plan to increase our distribution. Let me know if you think there are more businesses out there that would be a good home for extra issues.
See ya around. ;)
*
Notes and Unpublished Writing (September)
BEEP BEEP: COMMUNITY PERSPECTIVES
On one particularly hot and muggy Friday night, a friend pointed out to me that Green’s Package Store on Ponce de Leon attracts the most incredibly diverse set of customers. “And right across the street,” he marveled, “MJQ is packed with dirty Indie Rockers and Morehouse College kids, and they’re all dancing to Old School Hip-hop.” At the moment, I was too busy thinking about art shows to really consider the thought.
But he was right; that short section of roadway connecting Freedom Parkway and Charles Allen Avenue is a nexus of almost every demographic in the metro area. If you walk just two blocks to the north or south of Ponce, you can see a staggering range of development. Lower income housing rapidly gives way to the multi-story homes of Midtown and Virginia Highlands. The Majestic diner and the soon-to-be-demolished Old City Hall East stand opposite brand new condos, Whole Foods Market, and Chipotle Mexican Grill.
Nested in these curious circumstances, Beep Beep Gallery sits on top of a uniquely Atlanta cultural nerve. For me, the location indicates more than a simple business decision. The gallery almost physically illustrates this fabulous collision between wealth and intense poverty, local character, and mass culture. When I stand on that corner straddling Charles Allen and Ponce, staring at the trees outlined by the glow of the Bank of America tower, I can see the bizarre evolution of Southern life appear like some impossible specter out of time.
Keep in mind that Beep Beep is no Faye Gold Gallery. Beep Beep is a tiny, single room art space with very little in the way of sophisticated ornament. A shelf of vinyl records and used books lines the front window, and a small staff booth, complete with a rack of collaborative ‘zines, guards the rear. Events typically feature Dunkin’ Donuts and Pabst Blue Ribbon; you would be hard-pressed to find anyone drinking fine Champaign. But the gallery is totally and adamantly loyal to local art, and it certainly knows how to have a good time.
Incredibly, space never seems to be an issue at Beep Beep events. This summer’s Concrete Jungle show, for example, made strategic use of limited wall surface. Gallery-goers regularly spill out onto the street, whether the evening’s call-to-arms happens to be a dozen monopoly boards by Ben Goldman and Sam Parker or a live performance by Atlanta’s Noot d’ Noot. During a recent photography opening, the venue’s back door yawned wide onto the rear side of the property. A repeating projection cast surreal illumination on the back lot, where smokers sat on a concrete bank clutched by dangles of tree root.
There could be no greater contrast between the feeling of that moonlit lot and Beep Beep’s reception at the Westin’s Sundial restaurant. At more than fifty stories in the air, the hotel restaurant is famous for its revolving dining floor. Tables set on the circumference of the tower literally revolve around the dial, allowing guests to see the Atlanta skyline from an effectively first person perspective. But Beep Beep regulars proudly displayed their tattoos and rapidly emptied their beer bottles while sampling fancy desserts from the Westin kitchen.
Five Atlanta artists were represented: Dosa Kim, Ann-Marie Manker, Michi, Bryan Westberry, and Shana Wood. Pieces by Dosa Kim, who practices a type of aggressive Asian comic book fusion, were especially popular. The combination of good art, floor-to-ceiling glass, and whole sections of moving floor was almost too much. My mind was dizzy with hilarious amazement coupled with a bit of authentic vertigo. I was looking at some of the most “low brow” artwork Atlanta has to offer, suspended up here thousands of feet above the ground.
Suddenly, “Rise:,” the title of the Westin exhibit, resounded as a powerful community statement.
**
On one particularly hot and muggy Friday night, a friend pointed out to me that Green’s Package Store on Ponce de Leon attracts the most incredibly diverse set of customers. “And right across the street,” he marveled, “MJQ is packed with dirty Indie Rockers and Morehouse College kids, and they’re all dancing to Old School Hip-hop.” At the moment, I was too busy thinking about art shows to really consider the thought.
But he was right; that short section of roadway connecting Freedom Parkway and Charles Allen Avenue is a nexus of almost every demographic in the metro area. If you walk just two blocks to the north or south of Ponce, you can see a staggering range of development. Lower income housing rapidly gives way to the multi-story homes of Midtown and Virginia Highlands. The Majestic diner and the soon-to-be-demolished Old City Hall East stand opposite brand new condos, Whole Foods Market, and Chipotle Mexican Grill.
Nested in these curious circumstances, Beep Beep Gallery sits on top of a uniquely Atlanta cultural nerve. For me, the location indicates more than a simple business decision. The gallery almost physically illustrates this fabulous collision between wealth and intense poverty, local character, and mass culture. When I stand on that corner straddling Charles Allen and Ponce, staring at the trees outlined by the glow of the Bank of America tower, I can see the bizarre evolution of Southern life appear like some impossible specter out of time.
Keep in mind that Beep Beep is no Faye Gold Gallery. Beep Beep is a tiny, single room art space with very little in the way of sophisticated ornament. A shelf of vinyl records and used books lines the front window, and a small staff booth, complete with a rack of collaborative ‘zines, guards the rear. Events typically feature Dunkin’ Donuts and Pabst Blue Ribbon; you would be hard-pressed to find anyone drinking fine Champaign. But the gallery is totally and adamantly loyal to local art, and it certainly knows how to have a good time.
Incredibly, space never seems to be an issue at Beep Beep events. This summer’s Concrete Jungle show, for example, made strategic use of limited wall surface. Gallery-goers regularly spill out onto the street, whether the evening’s call-to-arms happens to be a dozen monopoly boards by Ben Goldman and Sam Parker or a live performance by Atlanta’s Noot d’ Noot. During a recent photography opening, the venue’s back door yawned wide onto the rear side of the property. A repeating projection cast surreal illumination on the back lot, where smokers sat on a concrete bank clutched by dangles of tree root.
There could be no greater contrast between the feeling of that moonlit lot and Beep Beep’s reception at the Westin’s Sundial restaurant. At more than fifty stories in the air, the hotel restaurant is famous for its revolving dining floor. Tables set on the circumference of the tower literally revolve around the dial, allowing guests to see the Atlanta skyline from an effectively first person perspective. But Beep Beep regulars proudly displayed their tattoos and rapidly emptied their beer bottles while sampling fancy desserts from the Westin kitchen.
Five Atlanta artists were represented: Dosa Kim, Ann-Marie Manker, Michi, Bryan Westberry, and Shana Wood. Pieces by Dosa Kim, who practices a type of aggressive Asian comic book fusion, were especially popular. The combination of good art, floor-to-ceiling glass, and whole sections of moving floor was almost too much. My mind was dizzy with hilarious amazement coupled with a bit of authentic vertigo. I was looking at some of the most “low brow” artwork Atlanta has to offer, suspended up here thousands of feet above the ground.
Suddenly, “Rise:,” the title of the Westin exhibit, resounded as a powerful community statement.
**
Notes and Unpublished Writing (August)
SATURDAY NIGHTS, LOCAL ART
The summer heat this year was paralleled by an impressive amount of creativity from the Atlanta arts community. From the wildly successful 2007 Folk Fest, a massive three-day exhibition held at North Atlanta Trade Center, to the smaller yet solid Sunday Southern Art Revival at Whitespace, area coordinators delivered a diverse, compelling season of events. Outside of mainstream venues on Miami Circle and the Castleberry circuit, Atlanta's more youthful venues, several located in the Grant Park, Decatur, Avondale Estates, and Ponce de Leon areas, gained a considerable amount of momentum. Notably, galleries such as Young Blood Gallery and Foundation One hosted consistently popular features by both local and nationally recognized artists.
Wine, music, chatter about politics, chatter about pop culture: there are number of things one can expect from an art show in any city. Although the scene in Atlanta generally complies with these expectations, the atmosphere of one auction or fundraiser can vary dramatically from the next. A benefit held at Lenny's Bar, for instance, tends to draw a crowd with a particular thirst for live guitars and Jack Daniel's served on the rocks. Events at Faye Gold Gallery, on the other hand, are more likely to feature chilled French wine served alongside platters of shrimp cocktail. Although openings tend to follow a somewhat predictable form, the possibilities for creative planning are wide open.
Consider The Vinyl Show held early this July at New Street Gallery in Avondale Estates. The annual benefit celebrated its third consecutive year with an energetic crowd of art lovers and music lovers alike. The evening began with a well-orchestrated silent auction boasting a number of affordable pieces painted and assembled according to a unifying theme. Artists were challenged to create works using the 12" vinyl record as a medium. Otherwise, each piece varied in terms of material and style, representing a generous range of skill and maturity. Although one would hesitate to compare the works highlighted that night to ones exhibited at The High Museum of Art, The Vinyl Show was highly successful as a community event. At the closing of the auction, the back of the New Street property came alive with memorable musical performances by the Atlanta group, Hubcap City, among others. At its most pleasant moments, the evening felt like a countryside honeymoon following the metaphorical wedding between music and art.
Art and music, however, do not always mix in a harmonious way. There was a heavily promoted event much later in July entitled That Big Ass Art Party. For a reasonable cover price, one could enjoy a cold beer, walk through an enormous industrial art space, and listen to tunes spun by local Atlanta DJs. The music, however, was at times much too loud, and the overall vibe of the show was fairly disorienting. Featured works tended to share an urban aesthetic, a style imitative of trends found in Juxtapoz Magazine. The quality of the art varied even more wildly than that of The Vinyl Show, a fact that added to the generally haphazard atmosphere. On the other hand, a few gems by artists such as Atlanta's Dosa Kim proved to be the saving grace of That Big Ass Art Party. As the event's title suggested, its managerial approach to art seemed less sensitive than it was sensationalist.
Alcove Gallery, which moves to a new location in Avondale this month, threw a very strong event with their 4 Score fourth anniversary celebration. Despite significant amounts of alcohol and a professional burlesque performance, Alcove succeeded in keeping the evening's sensationalism to a minimum. Event participants were respectful of the art as well as attending Alcove artists, and most everyone present at 4 Score appeared to be having an authentically good time. Upon entering the gallery, attendees were met with an entire wall of tiny mixed-media renditions of Abraham Lincoln by Matt Lively. The Lincoln pieces sold literally by the dozen, and by the end of the evening, "Old Abe" had left the building completely.
In general, the arts community continues to grow with every passing month. That tried-and-true cocktail of event planning, a mix of equal parts affordable art, smart management, and a general lack of cover charge, is an elixir for bolstering creative vitality. Fun, non-intimidating events will continue to attract newcomers from a wider cross-section of social backgrounds. Nurturing a "scene" of exclusive socialites is a masturbatory endeavor as well as poor business practice. Attracting a diverse group of gallery patrons, young and old, does not necessary hurt a venue's credibility. A poor college student should be just as welcome as a medical school graduate.
The lure of obscure music, rampant social networking, and availability of free booze at a gallery do invite the risk of distracting spectacle. Thankfully, openings this summer have generally demonstrated restraint towards over-commercialization, exploitive advertising, and other childish histrionics. Despite all of the glamor and excess, big Friday and Saturday night events are a necessary evil for most artists. But when the ingredients are right, a good opening can entertain tremendously as well as spark a genuine interest in local art.
The summer heat this year was paralleled by an impressive amount of creativity from the Atlanta arts community. From the wildly successful 2007 Folk Fest, a massive three-day exhibition held at North Atlanta Trade Center, to the smaller yet solid Sunday Southern Art Revival at Whitespace, area coordinators delivered a diverse, compelling season of events. Outside of mainstream venues on Miami Circle and the Castleberry circuit, Atlanta's more youthful venues, several located in the Grant Park, Decatur, Avondale Estates, and Ponce de Leon areas, gained a considerable amount of momentum. Notably, galleries such as Young Blood Gallery and Foundation One hosted consistently popular features by both local and nationally recognized artists.
Wine, music, chatter about politics, chatter about pop culture: there are number of things one can expect from an art show in any city. Although the scene in Atlanta generally complies with these expectations, the atmosphere of one auction or fundraiser can vary dramatically from the next. A benefit held at Lenny's Bar, for instance, tends to draw a crowd with a particular thirst for live guitars and Jack Daniel's served on the rocks. Events at Faye Gold Gallery, on the other hand, are more likely to feature chilled French wine served alongside platters of shrimp cocktail. Although openings tend to follow a somewhat predictable form, the possibilities for creative planning are wide open.
Consider The Vinyl Show held early this July at New Street Gallery in Avondale Estates. The annual benefit celebrated its third consecutive year with an energetic crowd of art lovers and music lovers alike. The evening began with a well-orchestrated silent auction boasting a number of affordable pieces painted and assembled according to a unifying theme. Artists were challenged to create works using the 12" vinyl record as a medium. Otherwise, each piece varied in terms of material and style, representing a generous range of skill and maturity. Although one would hesitate to compare the works highlighted that night to ones exhibited at The High Museum of Art, The Vinyl Show was highly successful as a community event. At the closing of the auction, the back of the New Street property came alive with memorable musical performances by the Atlanta group, Hubcap City, among others. At its most pleasant moments, the evening felt like a countryside honeymoon following the metaphorical wedding between music and art.
Art and music, however, do not always mix in a harmonious way. There was a heavily promoted event much later in July entitled That Big Ass Art Party. For a reasonable cover price, one could enjoy a cold beer, walk through an enormous industrial art space, and listen to tunes spun by local Atlanta DJs. The music, however, was at times much too loud, and the overall vibe of the show was fairly disorienting. Featured works tended to share an urban aesthetic, a style imitative of trends found in Juxtapoz Magazine. The quality of the art varied even more wildly than that of The Vinyl Show, a fact that added to the generally haphazard atmosphere. On the other hand, a few gems by artists such as Atlanta's Dosa Kim proved to be the saving grace of That Big Ass Art Party. As the event's title suggested, its managerial approach to art seemed less sensitive than it was sensationalist.
Alcove Gallery, which moves to a new location in Avondale this month, threw a very strong event with their 4 Score fourth anniversary celebration. Despite significant amounts of alcohol and a professional burlesque performance, Alcove succeeded in keeping the evening's sensationalism to a minimum. Event participants were respectful of the art as well as attending Alcove artists, and most everyone present at 4 Score appeared to be having an authentically good time. Upon entering the gallery, attendees were met with an entire wall of tiny mixed-media renditions of Abraham Lincoln by Matt Lively. The Lincoln pieces sold literally by the dozen, and by the end of the evening, "Old Abe" had left the building completely.
In general, the arts community continues to grow with every passing month. That tried-and-true cocktail of event planning, a mix of equal parts affordable art, smart management, and a general lack of cover charge, is an elixir for bolstering creative vitality. Fun, non-intimidating events will continue to attract newcomers from a wider cross-section of social backgrounds. Nurturing a "scene" of exclusive socialites is a masturbatory endeavor as well as poor business practice. Attracting a diverse group of gallery patrons, young and old, does not necessary hurt a venue's credibility. A poor college student should be just as welcome as a medical school graduate.
The lure of obscure music, rampant social networking, and availability of free booze at a gallery do invite the risk of distracting spectacle. Thankfully, openings this summer have generally demonstrated restraint towards over-commercialization, exploitive advertising, and other childish histrionics. Despite all of the glamor and excess, big Friday and Saturday night events are a necessary evil for most artists. But when the ingredients are right, a good opening can entertain tremendously as well as spark a genuine interest in local art.
Tuesday, October 09, 2007
October
The Dalai Lama is coming to Atlanta on the 20th. Emory is hosting, but I hear he conducted a ceremony at Oglethorpe the last time he visited. I've had the pleasure of hearing two separate accounts of that event from two very different men: Chuck Wingo, bookstore manager, and studio art professor Alan Loehle. These guys are so incredibly unlike, but I'm pretty sure that they both used the word "spiritual" in reference to the Dalai Lama.
I think that it's about time I see Alan's paintings in person. He works comfortably in that dizzying vacuum between photorealism and the surreal, creating images with the lucid character of a Francis Bacon or Lucian Freud. He loves doggies.
In person, Alan Loehle is a bit of a Harrison Ford type, masculine in the manner of an old Western. If you talk to him for few minutes, you immediately get a sense of his impressive force of personality. I am also convinced that he is a madman. When he starts to talk about art, or anything else that he's serious about, he gets that little spark of crazy in his eye. It's a little frightening. And endearing.
**
Sunday, September 30, 2007
Dark Times
I left work early two days in a row. My lovably Indie rock roommate, Zack, was looking out the window at around 3 o'clock or so, and he commented, "It's too nice a day to be stuck in this building." We sit on the 20th floor of one of those filthy Atlanta skyscrapers, so we could tell that it was a genuinely wonderful day. Meanwhile, I'm packing up my stuff and emailing my supervisor and preparing to close down shop completely. I will be unemployed shortly, and to be honest, I am so incredibly "over it." The good folks at The Carter Center and Fernbank will receive my resume very soon.
I walked out of that building and stepped into the cool late-September breeze and that delicious afternoon sun. I hopped onto the Marta, plugged in some headphones, and opened up some H.P. Lovecraft. There was no better remedy for the foolish tragicomedy of the whole situation. Add one part Howard Phillips' delightfully nerdy psychological horror plus one part radiant sunshine plus one part
Thunder, Lightening, Strike and you've got a winning combination:
That is not dead which can eternal lie,Tell 'em how it is, Howard. You crazy bastard.
Yet with stranger aeons, even Death may die.
*
Saturday, September 15, 2007
Reading Fear and Loathing
So, I've not possessed the energy to read a book cover-to-cover since I started this foolish job. (To be honest, I actually like it very much. It just drains me in a very thorough way.)
Last weekend, I visited Book Nook where I picked up a copy of Hunter Thompson's "Savage Journey to the Heart of the American Dream," deliberately choosing a copy printed before the movie with Johnny Depp. I'm still mowing down a chapter at a time at a regretfully slow pace. Oh well - it's all part of my remedial, self-taught course in English and Journalism. Here's a passage from the middle of Thompson's savage tale:
*
Last weekend, I visited Book Nook where I picked up a copy of Hunter Thompson's "Savage Journey to the Heart of the American Dream," deliberately choosing a copy printed before the movie with Johnny Depp. I'm still mowing down a chapter at a time at a regretfully slow pace. Oh well - it's all part of my remedial, self-taught course in English and Journalism. Here's a passage from the middle of Thompson's savage tale:
I got my attorney's .357 Magnum out of the trunk and spun the cylinder. It was loaded all the way around: Long, nasty little slugs - 158 grains with a fine flat trajectory and painted aztec gold on the tips. I blew the horn a few times, hoping to call up an iguana. Get the buggers moving. They were out there, I knew, in that goddamn sea of cactus - hunkered down, barely breathing, and every one of the stinking little bastards was loaded with deadly poison.Is it just me, or is the phrase "goddamn sea of cactus" simply awesome?
*
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Venting
Speaking of 1984, as some of you may already know, I absolutely love that fabulous 80's phenomenon, Ghostbusters. What surprised me on my latest viewing actually, is a line given by Dr. Egon Spangler, the "nerdy" member of the team. During the early half of the movie, he has this exchange with the Ghostbusters receptionist, Janine:
Janine Melnitz: You're very handy, I can tell. I bet you like to read a lot, too.
Dr. Egon Spengler: Print is dead.
I am finding the bottom of my frustration with print as a medium of time-worthy communication. It's expensive, and to be honest, there are so many fantastic possibilities in the digital media. It won't be a revolution, but we can certainly have a lot of fun.
I write, and I plan to continue writing well into the 21st century.
Here's to Aquarius, dear lovers.
::: )
*
Thursday, September 06, 2007
Cyber Warlords
I am still writing at the moment. The demands of work, Dragon Con, my failing health ... many things have conspired to delay my progress with Deconform.
But I promise, my dear comrades, The Ghostmap Radar is still in operation. Reports indicate that ideological terrain continues to shift at a global level, culturo-tectonic readings are disturbing at best, and television microwaves are still causing cerebral power outage on a massive scale.
The Guardian reported this week that a cell of Chinese hackers, possibly affiliated with the People's Liberation Army, have been strategically attacking key information networks controlled by both the United States and British federal governments. There is evidence that this cell of hackers, currently referred to in the West as "Titan Rain," have been in operation for more than four or five years. Their tactics have been called a form of "Pressure Point Warfare." In that sort of scary, real life sort of way, it's a little too much like science fiction
In the opening chapters of the 1984 novel, Neuromancer, a man named Henry Case runs for his life through the streets of Chiba, Japan (the current real world location of Narita Airport). The novel may seem naive at first: Henry Case teams up with a female "street samurai," does massive amounts of synthetic drugs, and has long conversations with holographic entities. The book, however, was one of the main influences of the movie, Blade Runner, and it coined the word "cyberspace" in 1984 - before the internet even existed. The novel depicts a future completely overrun by the capitalist market, inter-continental levels of urban development (a theme borrowed in Warren Ellis' Transmetropolitan), and a hyper-industrialized vision of modern Asia.
The climax of the novel involves Case jacking his brain directly into the internet and hacking into the secret stronghold of a clandestine mega-corporation. He does so with the help of Molly Millions, a technologically enhanced mercenary, and McCoy Pauley, a.k.a. "The Dixie Flatline." Pauley McCoy is an older hacker who, after returning from the threshold of death several times during his most daring espionage adventures, had his personality uploaded into cyberspace posthumously. Case and McCoy are able to enter the network undetected via an experimental military virus of mysterious, Chinese origin.
Despite its dated status, the novel continues to be significant. Stranger than fiction, huh?
Ghostmap out.
***
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
It was Amazing!
I swear my eyeballs were exploding.
What's happening this weekend (besides my shindig, of course)? I probably won't have much energy to go out and see any art. I plan to clock somewhere around 12 hours of writing before Monday.
I'll see you guys topside sometime soon. Woot.
*
Sunday, August 19, 2007
Autobiography
So, I was born in the land of William Faulkner, underneath the sign of the Centaur on the first day of the final month of 1983. My father was born in Bangkok, Thailand, and my mother was born in the lower Appalachians.
Sometime during the 2!st Century, there will be a number of people who will learn precisely what those events mean. .
: )
**
Sometime during the 2!st Century, there will be a number of people who will learn precisely what those events mean. .
: )
**
Monday, August 13, 2007
# *#
Finally to pose questions with a hammer, and sometimes to hear as a reply that famous hollow sound that can only come from bloated entrails — what a delight for one who has ears even behind his ears ... before whom just that which would remain silent must finally speak out.
- Friedrich Nietzsche
Twilight of the Idols: Or How One Philosophizes With a Hammer
(Bold type = mine. Alternate text here.)
Oh my dear, dear Fred. You see, I've been practicing with this here Sledge on a daily basis, and maybe soon, I hope to upgrade to a balls-out wrought iron Mjölnir.
*
- Friedrich Nietzsche
Twilight of the Idols: Or How One Philosophizes With a Hammer
(Bold type = mine. Alternate text here.)
Oh my dear, dear Fred. You see, I've been practicing with this here Sledge on a daily basis, and maybe soon, I hope to upgrade to a balls-out wrought iron Mjölnir.
*
Tuesday, August 07, 2007
Deconform September: The Spectacle
The new Deconform team has set a timeline for the fall issue that should carry us to print in early September. (Expect a nice, spiffy website makeover to launch with the next issue) Initially, I'll be happy to achieve a product similar to what the magazine has looked like in the past. The key, however, will be meeting our deadline every quarter and - as consistently and as aggressively as budget will permit - improving the overall quality of the magazine with each additional issue.
The theme we've chosen for the September issue is "The Spectacle." It's quite a broad theme, but it's one compelling enough to inspire our fairly diverse group of writers. We'll write about art - you can be sure of that - but the broader mission of the publication includes "Art, Music, Culture & Politics." I'm excited to see how it all takes shape.
I will be writing an art review or two as well a general piece about the spectacle of an art opening. The basic questions I want to ask myself (and folks in the community) include
*Does art have to be hip?; To what extent is "the scene" of art negative?;
*Are we putting too much emphasis on opening night?; Are we going to see art on weekdays?;
*How many people are actually talking about the paintings (for more than just a few minutes)?; and
*Why is it so damn loud in this gallery? I can't hear myself think!
I'm thoroughly excited about the whole project, and I hope to hear plenty of thoughts over the next couple of weeks.
Here's to the first re-launch issue of Deconform.
**
The theme we've chosen for the September issue is "The Spectacle." It's quite a broad theme, but it's one compelling enough to inspire our fairly diverse group of writers. We'll write about art - you can be sure of that - but the broader mission of the publication includes "Art, Music, Culture & Politics." I'm excited to see how it all takes shape.
I will be writing an art review or two as well a general piece about the spectacle of an art opening. The basic questions I want to ask myself (and folks in the community) include
*Does art have to be hip?; To what extent is "the scene" of art negative?;
*Are we putting too much emphasis on opening night?; Are we going to see art on weekdays?;
*How many people are actually talking about the paintings (for more than just a few minutes)?; and
*Why is it so damn loud in this gallery? I can't hear myself think!
I'm thoroughly excited about the whole project, and I hope to hear plenty of thoughts over the next couple of weeks.
Here's to the first re-launch issue of Deconform.
**
Saturday, August 04, 2007
I played many hours of SEGA
as a child
So, I'd like to come clean while I can: I absorbed a large portion of my vocabulary from video games and from playing Magic. Does that make me a bad person?
*
Wednesday, August 01, 2007
Fafnir is dead, and so is Bergman
Last week, the British Museum revealed the discovery of an honest-to-God Viking hoard. The treasure, a collected stash of more than 8,000 silver coins, chains, and amulets (and no dragon!), would have been worthy of the finest of Celtic man-heroes. Sorry Sigfried, Beowulf: it looks like you missed your chance.
Also, Seventh Seal director Ingmar Bergman died on Monday. I have to admit that I know little about the man's work, but I found Peter Bradshaw's piece especially illuminating. Bradshaw is a critic that isn't afraid to pull punches, but he can achieve moments of surprising accessibility and candor. For example, check his take on Grindhouse.
Bergman: a Life in Pictures.
Monday, July 30, 2007
Be cleansed and rejoice, ye Faithful
TindelMichi and a handful of other artists are putting up a new show this weekend. They're calling it a Sunday Southern Art Revival. (Despite the name, the opening is happening Friday)
I expect good things. I have a paper flyer, but I don't have a digital image at the moment. It looks like a creepy preacher guy doing some sort of occult rainbow-connection thing with his palms...
*
I expect good things. I have a paper flyer, but I don't have a digital image at the moment. It looks like a creepy preacher guy doing some sort of occult rainbow-connection thing with his palms...
*
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