FRIDAY:

pretty straightforward that. nice flyer. I think I know this Ryan too. Sarah says it’s one of her friends and I know a number of her Ryan friends, so I reckon I have an 88% chance of previous encounter. Which makes it all the more exciting for me, putting art-to-face.

SATURDAY:

Bedford Avenue Gallery is pleased to announce the Zach Bruder’s first solo show , opening August 1st.

Zach Bruder will show his Forecast series with several other works on paper. Working in the gap between history and figuration, Bruder appropriates both text and imagery ranging from Civil War generals to auction catalogs. These images, disembodied and stunted, join to make a strangely poignant body of work exploring mankind’s urge to commemorate itself.

Zach Bruder, born in 1984, lives and works in New York.

BEDFORD AVE. GALLERY
SAT. AUG 1ST (7PM – 9PM) and SUN. AUG 2ND (12PM – 7PM)
177 NORTH 10TH ST. SUITE G (BTWN BEDFORD AND DRIGGS)
BROOKLYN, NTY 11211
(917) 364-3809

bitchin skin art.

I admit Zac Braun – whom I’ve only known as Zac Attack for over 3 years – is a guy that I don’t really know terribly too much about but whenever we run into each other at parties I think we both go out of our way to say hello and have a pleasant chat. He’s incredibly nice so the vibe is always good. He always has a fine selection of hats unfortunately this one doesn’t have a name; his bicycle’s name is Lola however so he does have a propensity to Name the inanimate world around him. Him showing his tattoo came up in a discussion about someone else’s body art (an inside-lip tattoo) and after some questioning Zac is very fond of typewriters, and he works them into his art quite often.

We docked just after 8am alongisde another cruise ship. In fact, we docked with two other cruise ships at port. But the one we parked alongside was from Italy and considerably larger than our own ship. It didn’t dawn on me until later that, like I said, this ship is from Italy. Italy, on the other side of the Atlantic. our ship left from New Orleans and still took 3+ days to get to Cozumel, crossing the Gulf. How long were these people at sea to get to Cozumel? Crikey that’s some leisure living.

Anyhow at the end of the pier Nico and Ian were waiting for us. This was actually the point of the trip. To see these two, and deliver Martina to them for transport en route to Australia.

Wow. The last time I saw Ian was early October when he departed from Queens, NY en route to California on a motorcycle tour. From there he made his way to Holbox and met up with Nico whose been waiting tables out there. The idea was to get Martina to them and flying was simply not an option – too expensive, too much hassle, and clearly nowhere near as much fun as we’ve had here. Holbox is located around the other side of the peninsula, closer to where we were in Progreso yesterday, but nonetheless they met us here. We rented a jeep, and quickly got out of town and went scoping for some waves.

We found some good strong waves, salty water, and fresh beach. We were pretty much all alone on the east side of the island. Granted the water was so strong that we couldn’t go too far out but we spent some time here, had some beers at a local stand, a picnic on the beach with some food that we brought from the ship, and then headed back into town to find some snorkeling equipment and a proper meal.

While heading back we stopped to inspect these two geysers that were spraying water a good 20 feet into the air. Near them were these pools of water that vibrated and filled with air-pressurized water every time the waves hit the rocks, a little bit of water finding its way through the rocks and to the surface. Amazing.

When in Cozumel, eat here! It away from the market area a little, and it’s a total dive restaurant, but it’s so good. The lady-owner cooks everything behind the counter and it’s all really fresh, I mean she doesn’t cut a tomato until you order it. Fresh! And cheap. We all ate bountifully for around $20! I recommend the coconut water!

Before Angie and I headed back to our home for the next 36 hours and we split ways with Martina, there’s another part to this story that lacks a visual counterpart. We went snorkeling! We had around 2 hours before we had to retrieve Martina’s bags from the ship, so we grabbed some gear and hit some beach just south of the ships. We found some access to the water where only 4 other people were scuba-diving. The water is amazing, the fish are amazing, the reef is incredible. Groupers, yellowtails, I think I saw a barracuda even. And this pool of really tiny yellow fish that were totally friendly and playful. Some people back on the boat reported seeing seahorse, 3′ wide starfish, and such. I’m not a skillful swimmer at sea so I wasn’t able to head too far out; any opportunity I get to go back I’d love to take a s.c.u.b.a. class, they sounded affordable and you don’t have to head too far out (just 150 feet from shore) to see some incredible sights.

Home for the next 36 hours. By the time we were headed back to the ship, another ship had docked at one of the other piers, for a total of four ships at Cozumel! Cozumel’s wikipedia entry currently says that there was a third pier before a hurricane in 2005 took it out; should they rebuild it, there could potentially be six cruise ships docked at any point, accounting for anywhere upwards of 20,000 people!

As for the cruise experience, it was something else. There was Maja in the dining hall; Ananais in the piano bar; Rob the Pianoman; and countless countless others that really made the experience worthwhile. Martina, Angie and I clearly had the advantage too, as we were always one step ahead of the pack, and went about things the unorthodox path in order to maximize our experience. Twice even we were asked by others on the boat, “Are you artists?” because it was clear we went about things a different way. We were the first ones off and the last ones back on.

We found out the ship had a crew of roughly 900 people, many of whom go unseen for days on end, and workers are committed to six month contracts. They work long hours and really commit their lives to making sure ours is taken care of. It’s an odd position to be placed in, but it’s people – you talk to them, hear their stories, and they really make it worthwhile. They come from all over – Bosnia, India, Phillipines, Russia, USA – and they’re all crammed into their own deck and at sea for months. It’s an incredibly weird construct that humans have come up with, the cruise ship. With advances in technology you can stay connected to the world via the Internet (for a pretty penny) and there’s now satellite television round the clock; some people ride these things continually, live on them for months out of the year. It’s a world unto itself.

The final day at sea flew by, as we zipped back across the Gulf doing nearly 24-26 knots (en route to Mexico we spent most of our time around 16 knots by comparison). Angie and I were a little silent without Martina and mostly spent the day on the pool deck reading and recovering before we arrived back in New Orleans the next morning, bright and early debarkation began at 7am! Whoop whoop.

Re-entering the Missisissippi delta at night. Some land can be seen intersecting the moonlight, with lights on the horizon from small towns or oil refineries or the like. Welcome home.

(Next: back in New Orleans, some Prospect 1 art, back to it)

We docked at Progreso and disembarked at 7am! Angie, Martina and I were on the first shuttle bus to the end of the pier:

there’s a reason why you need a shuttle bus to drive the pier. It’s over 4 miles long! That building on the horizon is the halfway point, and is where the pier terminated until about 30 years ago when they built it further out to accomodate the then-bourgeoning cruise industry. 4 mile pier!

We hit the town of Progreso a little after 8am and were on a mission. There were two “tours” of Progreso available, and we decided on the tour of Dzibilchaltun for it’s Mayan ruins and sinkhole, the Xlacah Cenote (oooooh yeah!). However on the boat they wanted $56 per person and grouped people on an actual tour bus with guideperson and didn’t promise much else other than you would see the sights. We paraded through the market where the pier touched the land and found guides there offering the same tour as the ones sponsored on the boat for $29/person – an alternative tour though that we needed to round up 8 people to fit into a van and didn’t depart for over 2 hours! This didn’t quite meet our desires. We decided to hit the beach and travel further away from the market merchants and see what we could find in terms of transport and offers.

As we were the first ones to hit the beach, we quickly met this guy Jean from Florida who has satisfying become “stuck” in Puerto Progreso, Mexico. We told him what we were looking for, a cheap, authentic guide to the Mayan ruins at Dzibilchaltun. He works a bar down the beach and gets punters to stop by for drinks but knew the locals and looked into the situation for us. He got us in touch with a friend of his, Kiko, and bam we had ourselves a soon-to-be college graduate driving us around the highways of Progreso at 9am!

It doesn’t get any better than this. Kiko offered to turn the a/c on and we were all replied “No no we’re fine!” We were a full hour ahead of those tour busses, and best of all we got the all-inclusive tour, guide, and ticket to the ruins for a bargain $25/head!

Quickly getting into it, the grounds at Dzibilchaltun are f*%^ing awesome!! Do you see that temple in the distance? (zoom in to see it if you can’t) That’s the Temple of the Seven Dolls (even though Martina counted eight!). And during the first equinox, the sun can be seen in the temple corridor, like an architectural calendar. Bloody amazing. A calendar and sense of time all dependent on celestial bodies, 2012 here we come!

But here’s the real reason why we came to Dzibilchaltun!:

Xlacah Cenote! A sinkhole (say cenote, kinda sounds like sinkhole) older than your grandma’s hairdo! Incredible. Crystal clear freshwater, complete with fishies that love to say hi, give a little nibble! The whole of the Yucatan has these underground waterways and sinkholes that stretch for miles, miles, miles. The whole of the Yucatan. The left side of the cenote in the image above is shallow, as in three inches shallow. There are many rocks which provide a natural path to the mid part of the pool which is entirely walkable at around 5′ depth. Then, up in the top-right the deep part of the pool is deeeeep. Around 140 feet deep! And leads to some tunnels that connect to other cenotes all over the Yucatan. This place is amazing man. And the water is a constant perfect temperature.

Now there’s an incredible part to this day and the entire journey that is missing a visual counterpart. Kiko drove us back to Progreso after we were done swimming (like I said, some of the “official” tour groups came along while we were in the water and they didn’t even get in – Loooosers!). We had just under 2 hours before the boat departed so we told him we’d like to grab some food. He told us there was a McDonald’s, “No don’t turn on the air conditioning! NO by food we don’t mean McDonald’s!” We explained that we wanted what he would eat! Yucatan snackery! He took us to this bar right on the beach near where Jean and he work, and introduced us to this Yucatan-branded form of siesta, where you purchase a beer or liquor and get these countless trays – nearly 20 between the four of us – of treats, snacks, appetizers. It was ridiculous, they kept bringing food! Salsa, habanero sauce, tortilla wrapped delights, and in particular these two appetizers, one made from a seed that had the same consistency as a deviled egg yolk stuck inside an avocado, but it was a single seed; and the other made from some tiny seed that Kiko couldn’t translate. The seed is converted into several foods, included a clumpy substance similar to dried out brown sugar; another that is ground up with oil and looks like a darker form of hummus. Whatever those two foods are I have to find out! But seriously we bought 8 beers – I tipped Kiko by buying his beers – and refueled on some authentic cuisines! Yessir!

So getting back onto the boat was the best part. We all sware that we weren’t the only ones on the last bus back down the 4 mile pier, and you can see other people in the background heading to the boat. However we were the last ones on the boat! And as we were meandering back down the pier people all over the boat started waving at us, signaling to hurry back to the boat. “C’mon you guys, we’re ready to go!” As we stepped back onto the boat they quickly slammed the door behind us and asked us what room we were in because they didn’t have time to look us up – they had to trust we were legit passengers – and informed us we had less than 2 minutes until they raised anchor and headed back out to sea!

Tomorrow: Cozumel, Nico, Ian, and beyond!

Oh Mm Gee. It got real once in the taxi driving to the pier and we could spot the tail-exhaust of the ship from about 3/4 mile away! The whole ‘cruise industry’ has this thing down to a science: the staff at the port greeted us and took our one check-in bag, it disappeared and was in our room by the time we got there! Angie, Martina and I got our ‘fun pass’ identification cards which guaranteed us to have fun… or else. Us 3 were bunking in a room that had a queen-sized bed and a bed that folded out of the wall. I remember walking into the room, quickly dropping our bags and Martina, upon spotting the nightlights that operated behind plexi contour art proclaiming “yeeeeeeaahhhhhh!!!!” and literally jumping up and down.

We exited, took a random path to start learning our home for the next several days and quickly found our way to the top:

Holy crap.

These things are humongous, and wild. And run like clockwork. Within our first hour they announced our life vest and life raft tutorial which sounds cumbersome but really wasn’t and is necessary, you never know. We did a 180 from the port and started heading downstream to the delta and out into the Gulf. Even considering the tutorial we had enough time to catch glimpses of the city on the horizon and even spotted the neighborhood Angie lives in from the boat:

Bywater area.

On the same token this following shot is of the Lower Ninth Ward. It’s hard to tell in this image but consider this is the same Lower Ninth pictured in my ‘on the Eve of Change‘ post:

leaving New Orleans parish. you can see the city in the background (view larger image on my Flickr to zoom in)

Now I’ve never been on a cruise before, I had no idea what to expect. In short these things are designed to pamper. It’s incredible, and pretty ridiculous, in an amazing way. Geez that doesn’t actually tell you anything does it! Okay, your bedroom is “turned down” twice a day – cleaned, changed, made anew; food is limitless, seriously you can eat your body weight daily if your intestines wouldn’t revolt; there’s round-the-clock entertainment in the form of musicians, gambling, bars, game rooms, stage performances, etc.; there’s a gym; multiple hot tubs and pools; there’s a sauna and spa for chrissake!; there’s even… an art gallery!

Clearly when I saw that I knew I was going to have some fun. is that Comic Sans? seriously? These ships were obviously designed in the early 90s! No but seriously there’s a real functioning art gallery on the ship, and yes we saw some people buying art, expensive art, like more expensive than all the expenses me and my party paid for the entire shebang. Times ten. People, are here to have fun, spend money, escape themselves, and be taken care of. and party.

The evening of the first full day on the ship, which we spent entirely at sea, there was a formal gathering and dinner which the captain emceed. Some people, “veteran cruisers” as they’re called, live for this. They came prepared. Not me, I packed two pairs of shorts, flip-flops and my boy scout belt! I didn’t even bring a towel, thinking it’d be so hot all the time I’d air dry when necessary (I forget the interior of places like these are always air-conditioned!); meanwhile these people packed jewelry and a pair of shoes for every day. Outclassed. Still, we had our fun:

Thanks – in part – to the performances, wisdom and hospitality of a one Rob the Pianoman.

If you take the Fantasy ship be sure to look this guy up. He plays at the Cleopatra Piano Bar (duh, he’s a Pianoman!). He made our night on several occassions. This Georgia boy will not disappoint, and his single-handed take on some classic songs (a la Dylan, Van Morrison, the Beatles) is not to be missed!

Next entry: Progreso, Dzibilchaltun, Mayan f*%^ing ruins!

so Shalin lives in a dollhouse, Angie lives in a dog shack, and Martina doesn’t actually live here and was the catalyst behind convincing me and Angie to take a boat trip to Mexico. All of which has nothing to do with the house pictured above, but at the same time that’s where they all live, but not really. New Orleans is weird. Yup, and these are my friends.

Getting to the house was difficult, which was expected. The driver of a city cab didn’t use the meter and charged me $12 for a journey that would have been difficult considering the weight of my backpack but wouldn’t have been untraverseable any other day on foot (I’ve since realized). He didn’t know how to locate the cross street given the address and suggested that having to drive to find the address might be too far for the fare. Welcome to New Orleans!

Once settled, the first order of business was food, so we set out for a walk in search of po-boys! While walking, it became clear that New Orleans architecture is obfuscated by the abundance of growth and green here. The city neighborhood’s landscapes are dominated by trees, plants, flowers, foliage and probably account for 30% of the density of the town:

As for dinner, I think I just about managed to capture everyone with their faces stuffed:

So service here is so slow and almost awkward, but is a journey in and of itself, you just have to roll with it. Then you’ll have a great time! Our waiter must have made at least four maybe five trips to the kitchen to actually figure out what they had in terms of deserts, but eventually landed us with exactly what we wanted:

Devoured, Gone. We Are Hungry.

As I arrived in the city in the mid-afternoon, by the time we finished with dinner the sun was set. Even having been here a week now I’m divided between seeing the city during the day and seeing it at night. It’s beautiful both ways:

The moon here is flipping bright. Bright, and low. And routinely about as big as I’ve ever seen it. Definitely as bright as I’ve ever seen it. So much light gets reflected here, which was more pronounced once we got out on the boat (will save that for the next post).

As for my first night in New Orleans I experienced something magical that I highly recommend to all if you want a flavor of New Orleans that you simply cannot find anywhere else. I journeyed – under Martina’s guide – to the Venue, a club up river where DJ Jubilee (a high school special educator during the day) and Katey Red (a transvestite rapper and teacher also) spin a distinct brand of music that is unlike anything else I’ve heard. Part hip-hop, part electronica, part bass, Bounce as it’s called has it’s own beat rhythm and vernacular that rivals Grime in the UK in its propensity to energy, but is contained to the shores of this fair city.

Music and club shots begin around minute 4. That mirrored wall… will live with me forever!

DJ Jubilee’s myspace page

Next installment: the boat, the cruise, the gulf. Mexico here we come!

As I mulled over this dilemma half-asleep last night, I simply concluded that it would be best for me to start a post, and then to add to it with sub-entries, rather than attempting to compile one single megapost which can’t actually be done as my experiences here are on-going and never cease. Day in and day out there’s something new. And I’m already over a week behind schedule.

So in unordered list and no particular arrangement:

My parents and stuff:

• my parents own, or possess rather, nearly if not more than 30 pairs of scissors. Nearly if not more… as in, while I’m sorting through their house and attempting to downsize their lives, I’ve really only penetrated and can account for the contents of two rooms. Add to that the other rooms (namely the computer room and my mom’s office areas) and in passing I’ve counted well over 20 pairs, and nearing 30. And I haven’t even spent time in the toolshop area. Could they own 50 scissors? Is this possible?

• In the light of the scissors complex, I went back and counted the number of staplers they own. Currently accounted for: 8.

e.g.:

many, many more to come!

STL corner architecture:
I’ve always had a fondness for corner buildings in St. Louis city. They’re always slightly more visually complex than the buildings surrounding them (which are usually domiciles, with the corner buildings operating commercial ventures); accented with architectural features and decorative elements; usually “wrap” the corner physically, and provide multiple entrances or window displays; and are usually more substantial – at times gargantuan – in comparison to the surrounding area. (I’ll add more examples as I take them) If one was to purchase or develop a property in the city for an arts center or housing co-op, this would be the way to go:

STL alley architecture:

Likewise I’ve always had a fondness for the alleys of St. Louis, and they’re an urban development feature that I’ve missed in larger cities I’ve lived in like London or NYC or which other cities I just don’t think employ the nature and uses of the alley as well as St. Louis city. In my earlier days I played basketball and stickball in them; used them to cut through neighborhoods while avoiding the car-traffic streets; and often used them as entrances to peoples’ homes through their back doors because the front door is so formal and proper, whereas the back door usually leads immediately into the kitchen which is where people congregate to eat and drink.

More recently I’ve found myself attracted to their narrow and sharp vantage points, especially at the moment when one rides past an alley quickly and is given a glimpse down the canyon of garages and sheds, trash cans, and debris. Those moments are quick as the alleys here are only 11 ft. wide or so. Wheres some neighboring streets can appear the same, the alleyways are always different and unique:

Delphi hats:

Word is this kid can’t get enough hats. Things on head in general:

Obama woz ere:

view image larger

Stumbling around the intertubes looking for STL entertainment, I came upon Bill Streeter’s website and flickr account, which included one of the more honest images shot from within the crowd for President Obama’s (not -elect, he’s my bloody President already damnit!) rally in St. Louis in mid-October. Most press images published from that record-turnout speech were wide shots from above or a press-box area (see scissor lifts) that overwhelmed the eye and whose composition was strategically designed to include the old courthouse in the background (again, for mass media). This shot however shows the back heads of the crowd as they face forward, cheering. That is Illinois in the background; also to the right of the white tent was a jumbotron television. I think Obama can be seen between the bleachers stand and the scissor lifts, in white.

I don’t know Bill but he seems like an all-right guy, his name being penned on some of the websites I’ve been perusing as I re-explore the city, including The Royale, one of the finer pubs in town that I’ve visited before and was trying to remember the name of, and thankfully came across their site. Bill codes with WordPress (the same software I employ), which is good to know open-source is running a fair portion of STL’s cultural production.

arts in town:

It’s as difficult as the original NES TMNT game to find art listings in this town however.

Jesus if you know of some openings, or one even, let me know. I found this blog: gallery openings in st. louis.

I was also introduced to this page at the Kemper Museum’s site which discreetely hides a map to STL non-profit visual art sites. Still, there must be more?

architecture blended:

Did they paint the building to blend in with the tree? Or did the tree chameleonize to blend in with the building?

zombie entertainment:

It’s a shame I just missed this (by a month). Subscribe to their feed for updates ahead of time.

More STL architecture:

I guess architecture, especially domiciles and housing structures, features prominently in this post because St. Louis has so much that is abandoned or not living up to its potential. It’s amazing, coming from New York City where realtors can and do literally sit on pieces of real estate, and end up not leasing them out figuring they can loose money now by not leasing a property in exchange for banking on that same property in a couple months or years even, when a specific neighborhood “blows up” and prices skyrocket. Yet here pieces of property sit abandoned for decades and there’s no assistance from the city to move people into them in exchange for fixing them up or developing a program (non-profit or otherwise) within the structure.

Here are some prime examples of abandoned or derelict or simply vapid structures:

a cutie two-part house thing. I don’t even know how to describe this place. It’s odd. It’s lovely. It has a No Trespassing No Loitering sign. It’s about 50ft. from the Antique Row area (Cherokee Street).

I didn’t walk over the hill but this building appeared partiallly – if not entirely – abandoned. Hard to tell. Still, it’s surrounded by land that at one point surely was loaded with other buildings and structures. Where did they all go? Who took the bricks?

Don’t remember the location. Great double garage door access, with ghost sign on side. All windows boarded up. Red plywood.

This one both confuses and upsets me. Such a beatiful structure, and the colorful rooftop facade is incomplete. Did the owner attempt to fix it up and then simply flee? the spraypaint on the road hoarding says “2900″ for the address.

My friend, former roomie, fellow artist and all-around geezer, Anthony Rhoads, has a 9-minute short “Without Your Permission” in the New Filmmaker’s screening this upcoming Wednesday, 26 November at Anthology Film Archives in NYC. His work will be in the animation festival and short film program, which consists of nearly all-new directors (all but one actually) who have never screened at AFA before (that’s 17 new directors!). So if you happen to be in town next week, aren’t traveling out (or as New Filmmakers put it Hate the Holidays) and are looking to see some film by unlikely directors, head down to AFA. It’s easy to remember their location: 32 2nd Avenue @ 2nd Street.

It’s between $5-$8 for admission, and starts promptly at 6pm.

And as someone who’s gotten a sneak preview of the piece Anthony will be screening, I can say that his work alone is worth the cost of admission. You’ll be pleasantly surprised, and find yourself shouting ‘replay!’

The beginning of a multi-month journey to my hometown of St. Louis, Missouri, with expected travels out of the city, to visit nearby (in the American sense of driving cross-country, nearby is within six hours!) friends and family; to venture to an abandoned family home; to assist my parents with their own health and hopefully enlighten them to alternative modes of living from those they’ve been repetitiously executing for decades.

My father recently had a “massive heart attack”, his first major malady, which I would say arrived quite early, before late-life has really begun, largely due to stress which unexpectedly struck his own family in the past year. His stubbornness (which I find cute) and unwillingness to discuss his personal ailments (sometimes not so cute), and my inability to do anything about his condition over the phone, has prompted me to uproot my own life, to disrupt my own patterns and repetitions, to assist my parents and in doing so better consider my own future age.

…

My final days in New York City were both relaxed and feature-packed, and I’d like to take this moment to extremely thank Alison, Cassie, Richard, Mark, all the Stipanovic family, my sister and the various people I mingled with and met during my final days and hours which reminded me before I left of the reasons why I’m certain I’ll be returning and calling one of the outer boroughs “home” once more.

…

After casting my ballot – and certain of the outcome – I proceeded to my friend Alison’s very homey home, the type of place after my eviction I found myself somewhat yearning for, and not at all typical of New York living. The type of home where days after Halloween, pumpkins are easily left on the front porch to collapse and continue looking beautiful! The type of home that will be an absolute delight in the dead of winter after a night fall of snow to wake up inside! The type of home where roommates actually yearn to do their dishes and keep the place looking spectacular! Homes, like these:

(see more domiciles of South Brooklyn on my Flickr)

…

Walking the entire perimeter of Greenwood Cemetery with Alison’s roomy Mark included an excursion into the cemetery proper:

This place is amazing, and grand! Grand both in acreage and the monumentality of some of these tombs and gravestones. Mark and I toured a mere nugget of a corner on the map on this place, and were well-occupied for over an hour, our time spent scaling hills, finding hidden footpaths, creating our own genealogy of the dead, and inpsecting the overall superb craftsmanship of this place. Bonus: views of Red Hook – “there’s THE Ikea!” and Lower Manhattan are available.

Monk Parrots can also be found at the Cemetery’s north entrance and they’re an absolute delight to watch build their nests and listen to them communicate with one another, and in the overcast day their green feathers were darker than usual and had an almost metallic sheen to them. Really wonderful bird!

(see more photos from Greenwood Cemetery on my Flickr)

…

I couldn’t leave without paying a visit to Olja, Robi, and Bartol himself, who debuted on this blog a month ago now. The image above was the eve of his 1 month anniversary. Did you know babies can grow 5cm and gain 2lbs. in that short a span of time? Isn’t that nuts? Merely from feeding on breast milk. I mean, HOW? The human body’s engineering at such a young age is truly astounding.

(more of Bartol the Big Boy)

…

A visit to Hunter College’s MFA Open Studios introduced me to the work – and the man – of Darren Jones. While the above picture is a work that wasn’t on display at the event, it is from a series of similar works that forced me to engage in a conversation with Darren, albeit quickly, about his work. In the work I saw which was still in progress, Darren culled discarded balloons from seaside beaches. The balloons were weathered, worn and decrepit. Their once-humorous or cheerful slogans had turned into cracked skin which was flaking off. Bunches were tethered upside-down and hung from meat hooks, their collective form suggestive of the type of pitiful shape a cow or lamb might take after it’s throat has been slit and its body drained of blood, removed of all life and energy, before it is processed into meat for edible consumption.

Other than Darren though I must say I was quite disappointed with the open studios. Or rather not “disappointed” as much as not ultimately satisfied. Granted I didn’t have significant time or interest to engage everybody in a 60-second interview, but there wasn’t much in the way of developed work from the more-senior graduates, instead they were largely repeating tried and true techniques. Most graduates seemed to be trying to force their work to exist in their studios. Few merely let the work exist as it is.

And what I’ve always found odd about these engagements is how I seem to be more enthralled and captivated by places outside of the gallery, or in this case outside the studio:

This hallway area has always been an interesting area to engage, as it is noticeably large, usually unoccupied or at least sparsely filled, and yet always manages to achieve being more interesting in composition and arrangement from the junk left there than the work available in the many-numbered and expensive studio spaces occupied by fine art graduates. There was some sort of sound installation emitting from the lockers on the left, so I can’t say for certain that this wasn’t entirely devised, but I understood the sound work to be more of a site imposition rather than an element of a larger site specific work.

…

After culturally digesting graduates’ art practices until the last minute, the following night, or morning of the next-next day, a 3am departure from NYC’s Penn Station took me to Washington DC’s Union Station, one of these monumental depots of yesteryear that managed to avoid being torn down and replaced with some “modern” atrocity.

…

From DC I departed for the longest leg of my journey, a 24 hour and 25 minute train ride that cut through Maryland, Virginia, West Virginia, Kentucky, Ohio, and Indiana before its final termination in Chicago, Illinois. I took the Cardinal not the Capitol trip from DC, which should you ever take westbound I recommend sitting on the right side of the train. I made the mistake of choosing the left side, and the train was full so I couldn’t relocate, and wound up having sun in my face for a good 5 or 6 hours as well as missing all the good views. Still, there were moments to be enjoyed:

panning while traveling at 70mph is so much fun!

My arrival in Chicago was short, with a mere couple of hours to kill. I deposited my luggage in those wonderful new storage lockers in Chicago’s Union Station, proceeded to Daley Plaza (I lived in Chicago for a year so I know the downtown area quite well) to see the large Christmas tree that is being constructed from many many single pine trees before meeting up with Leslie (a Chicago native) whom I befriended on Halloween back in Brooklyn:

the eventual tree can be seen in the background, that “tree” is already constructed from about 8 single trees.

the significant guy-wires and steel framing (clever design) used to fabricate this sensation.

the future christmas tree trees!

Leslie and I met up for a quick drink, with the weather the way it was (Chicago-cold) meant a shot of whisky and a beer. Drink! Hurry! My train is about to depart! I arrived back at Union Station with literally “one minute” to spare, as the conductor told me and shoved the train doors closed behind me right after I boarded – before I was seated the train was moving!

the final leg of my journey took me through the heartland of America, with the train for some time traveling parallel to Route 66:

Route 66 is the paved road in the foreground there. And you can see the signage on the barn in the midground. All in all I’d have to say the train is a wonderful way to travel, and Amtrak conduct a brilliant service and strive to accommodate everyone accordingly. My only argument is the lack of wifi on the trains for us e-commuters, while the train crew itself have a locked WEP-encrypted network to access (via satellite no doubt). Otherwise if you have the time, it’s a wonderful way to travel, and extremely easy on the pocketbook I might add – cheap, like $3 above $100!

And now I find myself sitting in the room I spent a large portion of my early adult life in, having not been here for any extended time in over 7 years. Life in London followed by life in NYC has meant I haven’t had much time to get away from the demands I surrounded myself with. Of course I have goals I’ve set to achieve while here, both personally and professionally, and am looking forward to the time ahead. There’s a lot of work to do, and I’m certain a lot of fun to be had as well. But first, publish!

With the Flux Factory’s recent eviction, starting in early October, I completely boxed up my life and put everything I own into storage, in a shed at an undisclosed location in New Jersey. To be honest even I don’t know the location of said shed; but I would like to incredibly thank my friend Angie for her assistance with my upheaval. I haven’t produced a piece of art in over two months due to the eviction, and I’ve had to spend most of my time consolidating my life, including throwing away a fair number of tools, clothing, raw materials, incomplete artworks, etc. A fitting end to life at Flux Factory.

The month of October also saw me quit my job of 3 years, as I had to make a decision, to continue with life in NYC would require my income and creative control to move up or move on. I made my decision.

This decision was encouraged by some recent family health and grievance issues, which being in NYC I had no control over to either guide or invigorate. Also made problematic that my job didn’t give me much flexibility in terms of vacation, travel for health, time off, etc.

Knowing an eviction was imminent, and my employment would end concurrently, I’ve decided to go nomadic. I’m blogging from a cafe in Flatbush, Brooklyn, currently homeless and crashing on couches throughout the borough. At the end of this calendar week I’ll be travelling by train to my hometown of St. Louis, which I haven’t visited in over two years now (see this link).

But I’m by no means complaining. I’m loving these weeks, these moments with friends, the way in which one survives on coffee.

I’ll go back to about mid-October, when I took a trip upstate to the Farm, and spent some time with the frost, the leaves, and some new family including Pepper and some chickens Americano:

A sign of things to come, the end of Flux Factory’s residence-arm really began with Ian’s departure. He’s on a BMW motorcycle now, somewhere in Georgia or Florida (don’t worry he cast his absentee ballot!) en route out West:

With Ian’s departure, I also become the most-senior member at the Factory. This, I actually didn’t realize until nearly a week after Ian left and someone else pointed this out to me.

Even with an eviction pending, the Flux Factory staff continued to work hard, planning for our final ever party:

Chen works, sans desk, surrounded by boxes and piles of crap:

I love the doors ajar, the box that can’t close, the ad on the floor, the blue fork. Just throw it all away already!

Flux Factory knows how to make trash. We went from this:

To this, on numerous ocassions:

At the same time, we know how to turn a shitty DJ booth:

into a most-awesome DJ booth for one of the most-awesome parties ever:

The Flux Factory’s final party, the End of the End of the End (To Be Continued…) was definitely most-awesome. Props to Shalin for organizing over 50 performances for the evening. Although the true success of any party is when your six – yes, six – kegs run dry and you need a 2am beer run:

Me and Tyler at the Pathmark at 2am.

Flux Factory knows how to party:

White Limo gave a smashing closing performance:

are those Ironclad’s he’s wearing?

Unfortunately our partytude nearly made Seb cry:

and put Daupo to sleep:

it’s a shame I didn’t make a video, but the soundsystem was bumping at this moment.

And my costume, no doubt, was a hit:

me sitting on a couch-costume.

What will come of Flux Factory now? There’s a thought:

So starting this Sunday I’m on the road. Going to St. Louis via DC and Chicago on Amtrak. I’ll be in the Midwest by early next week for at least a month, if not two. My Flux Factory address is dead. Long live Flux Factory.

I’ll be around. My wifi is about to expire. Gotta press publish.

he’s a cutie right?

You know it’s funny, because you have this image in your head of what the baby would look like, given the features and characteristics of the parents, and then, and then, there’s the baby, and you’re like, “That’s exactly what I thought he would look like!” It’s uncanny really, this kid looks exactly the way he should (see for yourself). Beautiful!

Bartol with mommy Olja, whom some of you may remember from Croatia, summer of 2007.

(from Amelia’s facebook)

Amelia was a terribly smart individual, who on a personal level always managed to poke fun at me in a way few others could or would even dare! hah! Her intellect however was usurped by her inclination and ability to enjoy life and have fun, and she loved to have fun! It’s hard to find an image of Amelia on her own, as she was always giving – even in the photographic sense – to those around her. Unfortunately I don’t think I have any photos of Amelia myself. She always managed to elude me.

What’s worse is I had an offer to party with Amelia this past Wednesday evening, and passed because I had awoke at 5:30am that morning and traveled back to NYC from the Catskill Mountains, and was exhausted. Before then it was over a month since I’d seen her.

I intend to ghost bike her accident site.

Updates:

Amelia at 1:22am during the Everything Must Go closing party. Is there a photo of this girl not having fun? I very much doubt it.

AMELIA’S WAKE will take place at

Grammercy Park Memorial Chapel
353 2nd Ave
Btwn 21st and 22nd

google map link

Wed July 16th and Thurs July 17th
Showing times: 2pm-5pm and 7pm-9pm

note: this is going to be a traditional wake, there will be other opportunities to bring Amelia Memorabilia.

UPDATES:

Her family requests that everyone come THURS at 7pm. (There will be speaking and remembering of her life)

If you can’t make it Thursday come either day at anytime.

The family is planning Amelia’s Ghost Bike. I will post more details of that as they emerge, and do what I can to inform people of how to contribute.

Update:

Amelia’s ghostbike has been installed at 49th Street and 1st Avenue in Manhattan. The bike has the baby seat Amelia used to ride on as a child. Feel free to stop by the site and leave a little something for Amelia.

via ghostbikes.org

UPDATE: here’s Amelia’s ghostbike, from July 2010:

gif of me with my mates Richard Zimmerman and Cassie Thornton, not only two of my favorite people in the whole wide world, but whom I both met while living in London – us few Americans enjoying time away from GWBushland – and now we each live in, around, and through NYC.

(seb introduced me to it)

(word is Phunquey is King of this Art. as you can see, he’s pretty effing good at it!)

(nice tongue Sarah!)

(Stefany jowling)

(Jean the Jowler)

(Oleg jowls while playing dominoes)

(and me jowling. and yes that’s my evening outfit!)

(more about jowling? click here!)

Congratulations to my mates Olja and Robi on their union, wed last Friday at City Hall! They had a wonderful reception at Olja’s sister’s newly opened restaurant… Rest-au-rant! Located right near the 36 Ave N/W stop in Astoria. Great wine bar and Tina, the sister, introduced me to a self-concocted cocktail, the All Dave All Night. She made me the first one, the rest were prepared and served by none other than Dave himself!

The best to those two!

And congratulations to my matey Cassie who will be leaving in just under two weeks time for an arts residency in the south of Finland for three months! A house party to celebrate her departure included some home-made pizzas, including your standard margherita but also one whose base consisted of sweet potato and onion topped with zucchini and melted cheddar!

Scrumptuous!

(my feetsies in the boat, with north edge of Roosevelt Island off to the left)

anybody who lives in NYC must do this! You’re in a kayak, in the East River! How cool is that? And the water wasn’t all that cold either, so the splish splash and wet bum was actually quite pleasant. Anybody can do this, and it’s completely free! Did I mention it is FREE!? Visit licboathouse for details.

(view Flickr photos from our expedition)

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I spot some Location One residents dancing on the streets:

from left to right: Katia, Mafalda, Moira

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“How cool is that?” I thought, when I found out Barack Obama maintains a Flickr account.

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I got re-blogged by one of the best blogs around, Newsgrist, regarding galleries, museums, photography and social networks. I’ve always considered re-blogging as a type of acknowledgment, or a social networking type of homage, or simply a hat tip from one blogger to another. So thanks, Joy!

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attended an opening at Y Gallery, a new space in East Elmhurst, Queens.

whereas most people couldn’t fathom traveling this far out into Queens for a small opening, it reminded me that good art and even greater spaces are always possible outside the confines of Manhattan, and indeed in the coming years and decades this is where most of us, artists and curators and viewers alike, will be migrating to encounter art.

(view Flickr photos from the opening)

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I think I have become addicted to a song! Dethharmonic by Dethklok. I seem to find myself listening to it a dozen times a day!

listen to mp3

(Thunderhorse is an easy runner-up.)

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server upgrade was completely successful, and already worth the investment: the backend is extremely feature-rich, and I can’t recommend mediatemple enough for their great customer service and smooth operation (the upgrade was literally only 3 clicks and some patience).

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Fall has finally rolled in, and it’s sweater weather time. Me, I enjoy the cold. Fashion makes more sense in colder climates (after all what is there to wear really on the beach, in the sun?). Food not only seems to taste better but tastes more, especially hot food. And the tension of hot and cold when drinking a tea or coffee but standing outside in the cold, it’s soooooo satisfying!

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taking advantage of the server upgrade (which was already in the planning stages), because of my documenting the process of changing a Grand Theft Auto 4 billboard wall-painting in Canal Street/SoHo, NYC

(yes, I normally keep that many tabs open!)

I got picked up by some gaming blogs, and even got one of my images published on the frontpage of planetgta.com (owned by gamespy, which I’ve been a member of for well over 6 years), got dugg, and linked on gamekings which altogether made my stats absolutely shoot through the roof!

Gamers, dorks and geeks abound seem to have no problem leaving comments, and encouraging the documentation process. They seem to be less-reserved, and aware that this is just a ‘moment’. We’re all just living in the moment.

Atticus Pitts IS Superman!!
from my mate John Pitts in St. Louis.

an exchange drawing by Aya Kakeda

collage… of something! by my mate Elaine Arkell in London!

the C-tree in motion, by Kako Ueda

photo by Lukasz Skapski of him and his partner

photo-collage by Naoko Kitamura

photo showing drawing by my mate Robin Footitt from London, in background

Update: missed one, here’s a photo from my mate Karen D’Amico in London

This past weekend I helped my friends Sebastien and Marie move house; I drove and packed the rental truck. It was a cumbersome move that took longer than it should have. To boot I strained a muscle in my lower back that took two days of hot showers, stretching and attempted-relaxing to work off. Just in time for the opening reception tonight at Location One, which was pretty successful. And just in time to come home to Flux Factory to install for the next show, which is ummm… barrelling along just fine. ahem. No really I’m sure it will be lovely. Of course the reception for that show isn’t too much of a concern for me, since my work is a light projection that can’t be seen during the day, or when the gallery lights are turned on (i.e. during the reception). however it is winter and there is more dark than light, so my work, which will be projected 24-7 for the duration of the show, will get more viewing time than not. I did some tests earlier tonight and all is well. There’s a little conflict with placement in the gallery but nothing that can’t be overcome.

There are some other deadlines looming; also a friend is having a birthday bash thing Saturday; as well as this weekend is the benefit sale of postcards for Postcards From the Edge, this year being held at Sikkema Jenkins & Co. (including the sneak peek preview for that, tomorrow, at the same time as the Tatlin exhibition at Flux Factory – ahh to be in two places at the same time, how I love that maneuver!). Like I said, aint nowhere near over yet!

Ashley helped me lay some ethernet cable before we spent the wee hours of the morning playing Resident Evil 4 on the PS2. woke up this morning to a communal breakfast, around 12 of us at the kitchen table, then we departed for the city. We all arrived at Location One where I’m invigilating the gallery today; they’ll parade around town before we (minus Amelie whose heading back to PA this evening) head back out to Flux Factory for the opening tonight. Tomorrow morning we plan on going to Martina Mrongovius‘ show at the Holocenter and then to Coney Island for the afternoon.

the weather was perfect, and as such the vicinity was fucking crawling with people. because of the abundance of people, inevitably there are a number of dealers and collectors abound; as such, galleries and i reckon even artists themselves, were attempting to sell some work right off the walls! strugglin’!!! i barely got to see any work but who cares, i was way more interested in hanging out with my Aussie Amazon sister-friends Alice and Martina.

After this show – the work has been blurred because it doesn’t really matter what we were looking at – we went for dinner on a Chelsea pier where Martina said she first ate six years ago and there were only 20 people there with a few staff. This time there were a couple hundred people and multiple food and drink kiosks. Then we went dancing until the wee hours. Of course I was late for work today.

They don’t know what they missed, because it was one of the best baseball games I have seen, ever.

Chris Duncan hit a first-pitch pinch-hit home run in the bottom of the eighth to tie the game 2-2 and began a four-run rally to put the Cardinals up 5-2! All four runs that inning were spectacularly played! And Duncan’s home run was a firecracker. The instant you heard the crack of the bat you knew it was out of the park!

But all the while, what was going through my head was how to organize my digital photos. Earlier in the day I was searching through google links for the means to better organize and tag photos. I use and am a very strong proponent of Picasa, a Google technology. But even Picasa has limitations. Such as the photos above-linked: do I put them in a ‘Friends’ folder for Josh and Ash; in a ‘Cardinals’ folder for the baseball game; or under the rubric ‘St. Louis Trip 2006′ for everything from this trip, and have to visually search for photos therein when I need to? Perhaps the latter makes the most sense now, but I’m not so sure of that even, especially if I wind up taking over 600 photos on this trip, which is looking very likely — how do I find that one photo of Ashley in the crowd of the baseball game?

So one of the first links I stumbled upon in my searches was this post over at the official Google Blog where they mention recently acquiring Neven Vision and their technology which is potentially capable of scanning images and extracting information for you, to heighten search functionality.

I thought, “That’s great” and found it ironic that Google was already pre-eminating this psychological concern among digital photo enthusiasts. But of course they were!! They’re Google!

But then I got wondering about Neven Vision, and who they actually are. My searches were quick and futile, and it shows how when Google acquires technology they really move fast:

last night I had dinner with my parents. The portions were big, too big even. a pile of leftovers was in order, i’ll probably attempt to finish that off tonight. After dinner I went out to visit my good mate John Pitts, his partner Octavia and John’s son Atticus. Atticus – Latin for ‘from Athens’ – is about the coolest kid I have ever met.

while I would find it very difficult to move back to a place like St. Louis, I love my people, my friends from this place, their attitudes, perspectives, outlooks, and most importantly their humor. It’s unique and genuine, and the world is a better place because of it.