I crack my shit up.
June 2005 Archives
How does one fund a solo art show, where nothing's for sale and no grants are given?
One sells bars of silver.
When in Boulder, I hung up fliers in small groupings. At the end of the group, I put the decoder key to unlock the secret message they represent. It was simply Morse Code - different colored flyers stood for dots, dashes and spaces.
I doubt anyone realized what I was doing.
BELIEVE -
ADORE ME -
LOOK -
KNOW -
I had a rifle pointed at me from eight feet away by a member of the Denver Police today. They were after someone that lives in the same studios I lived in. They asked if I was him. I said, "No."
They told me to step forward and they patted me down. Uncomfortable silence for a few seconds, then yelling from downstairs. The guy they were looking for was home and they just caught him. Arrested with three felony charges - all of which had to do with incidents he allegedly did in his studio.
You think you know someone.
I'm not sure who is at fault for having a high powered rifle pointed at me - the guy downstairs whom may or may not be guilty of some very serious charges, or the a Police officer's decision of such excessive force to apprehend one man. Twelve police officers were present that day - some in riot gear, others inspectors. On the roof. Staking out across the street. Guarding the front and back doors. I have a new definition for, "violation of personal space"
For one man.
I went to Boulder on Friday. A beautiful day. A beautiful girl. I drove her car, relearning standard, as we showed each other where we used to live and go to school.
We snuck into the parking lot of the duplex I used to live in with Dhalia on 30th near Baseline to see if a marble sculpture I left when I moved was still there.
Nestled underneath a prickly bush, forgotten, was the marble sculpture. It was lying on its side, almost antique and slightly dirty - but it's still there. Since the summer of 2001 when I brought it from Marble, CO, freshly carved and promptly abandoned shortly after, moving a half mile away. It's heavy.
I learned quite a bit about myself in the seven days I spent in the beautiful mountains of central Colorado camping and carving. I was very much alone, suffering that entire summer. Making anything out of the living rock seemed impossible. But, I did. I've done a few impossible things, since.
I like brining people to the sculpture. It's a milestone in my life, literally.
I've been making postcards for my next show. 600 (for now) hand screened, multicolored on index cards from Office Dept - each one has my sweat and dirt on them. Smell them if one happens to fall in your lap.
I like making postcards this way. It makes the cards less about the project and more a part of the project. People get excited to receive them.
Maybe people will start collecting them, far away in the future and they will only be a few left and they'll fetch high prices at auction. Think about that, people paying hundreds for an index card, transformed!
The Assembly Gallery, 06/03/05:
A graffiti show.
The Assembly Gallery, 07/09/04:
Same wall, a year ago.
Brandy came into my studio and told me she was going to Austin. Wanting to go to Austin with her, I asked if I could cmoe along. She was hesitant.
I told her I'd drive half the time and pay for half the gas. She was committed. A few days later, we were gone.
It took us three days to drive to Austin. Later, it would take me two hours to fly back. Incredible.
We spent our first night in Santa Fe at a Walmart and the legend is true - they do allow you to camp out in their parking lot.
We spent the second night at a truck stop, somewhere after Lubbuck. I spent much of the night on the roof of the van with a pillow, listening to the diesel engines generating electricity to my left and the zooming cars to my right, just watching the stars overhead as they travel their little dance.
Brandy confided more than I think any one person has ever confided to me at once. I do not know where I gained that much trust from one person. I helped her with her problems and straightened out her feelings. Heartbreak's hard - especially so if you've never had it.
I realized that I have a certain nack for this - as if it is simply natural for me to intuitively understand feelings and emotions and figure out their root causes.
This hasn't always been the case, but know that I've been dabbling with this, I feel very good about myself. I also feel much closer to my Father - whom was a social worker himself. I understand how he thinks a little bit more clearly and why he chose the path he did. A large part of him is really, inside me.
Brandy and I did not stop much on our trip, but we did stop for shaved ice outside of early Texas.
It was lovely.
Once in Austin, Brandy parted ways with me to go to Eastern Texas, Florida and then up to Niagra Falls. I'd see her later in Denver, hopefully.
I stayed with my good friend Laura, who put me up for a few days. I filled much of my time wandering around Austin and taking it in, going to Art museums and galleries and spending my nights mostly on Sixth Street to see a music show. The first night I went out I saw Nine Inch Nails (not a huge fan - but nevertheless, Trent has a very lovely voice) from on top of a parking garage, then a band at Emo's,
They were your run-of-the-mill, safe-punk group. The bass player oddly reminded me of the bass player from Less Than Jake - now there's a band I couldn't afford to listen to again.
So another band afterwards, whom I believe were called the Personalities across the street at 1710
Cute basist, lead singer with an REM shirt - you got it: Post Indie. For some reason, I bought a $5.00 pack of Camels and smoked half of them that night. In the morning, my saliva tasted of ashtray. Sorry, Mom.
Finally, saw a great band at a place called, "Beer Palace".
Best band of the trip. They made me dance and lose my shit. All together, I must have seen nine bands in less than a week.
Took a bus to Houston for the day. Went to Rice University and Rice Gallery to help with some business. Beautiful gallery. Ventured to the Houston Museum of Art, Houston's Contemporary Art Museum and the Menil Collection - which was having an opening for Cy Thombly. Very formal. I came in with sweat drenched clothes from walking the far but humid city of Houston and a backpack filled with flyers of my face.
The Menil collection had an incredible collection of Surrealist work - the greatest thing being an entire room of nothing but odd items the surrealists owned.
At around 9:30pm, I realized I didn't know what I was going to do next - I could either take a bus back to Austin around midnight, or take the next bus back, early next morning. I opted to take the early morning bus and have somewhat of an adventure.
Looking at the paper - it didn't seem that there were many music venues around, so I picked one based on the best name - Super Happy Fun Land. I envisioned it being some sort of Japanese Pop Palace - so swanky that they wouldn't allow entry if you weren't Japanese. Took a cab there and it turned out to be Houston's version of Monkey Mania. Strange.
The show ended somewhat early, so I went to another Venue and talked to the girl working the door more than I watched the show. The drinks weren't very good. The music - well, it wasn't Austin, that's for sure.
At around two, I walked back to the bus station. Unless I could think of some bright idea, I was going to stay there the night.
I was very far from the bus station. It was going to be a long walk, so I walked it, putting up my flyers and just urban hiked around. I like wandering. I like the idea of not having a clue where I am, or how dangerous a certain neighborhood is. A total high. I must have walked 15 miles that one day.
I spent the night at the bus station. Greyhound bus stations are not comfortable places to be. If you want to see an interesting side of this country, crash at one and let the circus unfold around you. You see people who have to take a bus, because they cannot afford any other way of travel. You'll see many different archetypes - my favorite being the aspiring musician - always with guitar in hand, usually a second-rate guitar, bad haircut and some sort of visual anomoly. I never find another, "Myself". Maybe I don't know what I'm looking for.
A raw feeling knowing that a bus station is one of the most dangerous places to be in the city, but not knowing where else to go. Got tapped on the shoulder while dozing in a very uncomforable seat. It was a police officer. He wanted to see my ticket. Somehow, I got it together to find the ticket and present it to him.
Back in Austin, I spent another night on Sixth Street - this time a Friday, where the street truly turns into a monumental spectacle of people and movements and lights and especially sounds! Almost every other place is a venue of live music and all you need to do is walk around until you hear something you like. Walk in, pay a small cover and listen for a spell. No one really came up to me to start a conversation though. I felt somewhat alone. I was hoping that people would ask why my face was on flyers around the city, but no one did. A unsuccessful experiment, I guess.
I spent most of the night again at Emo's. Monade - a side project of Stereolab's lead singer was playing and that was really nice to see. She is a very very beautiful person and she also plays the trombone, which is lovely.
Left for Austin on Sunday and was picked up from the airport by Katie. I took her out to Pete's Kitchen as a thank you and cleaned my studio, wondering how I was going to pay rent. I had realized upon my return that I was completely broke.
