Sunday, September 27, 2009
STOP TALKING
Tho I am still in midsts of art making for the coming Saturday niiiite , I am performing tonite and it will be up-close and personal! Interactive?
I will be performing a piece that I have never performed before entitled "Your Castle" with an honest preamble about love-loss.
As well as performances by:
ALEX COLEURS
BITA JOUDAKI
REID JENKINS
JOELE WALINGA
PATTY FARIAS
REBECCA FIN
HANNAH HILARY
FILIP ANTON
and
MAYLEE TODD plays the harp
*We will also be selling beer and candy apples.
**The candy apples have razors inside them.
September 27th
Starts Sunday at 9:30pm
It's at Good Blood Bad Blood (13 Kensington), a neat spot.
I think it's PWYC if that.
Saturday, September 26, 2009
BIG ART SHOW! BIG ART SHOW! ONE NITE ONLY! ALL NEW!
STUDIO VISITS by Jean-Paul Langlois and Robert Dayton
...very excited for this....been working hard for it....
JEAN-PAUL LANGLOIS’ STUDIO VISITS
In the winter of 2007, Jean-Paul Langlois bought the cheapest love seat he could find at Ikea for his bachelor apartment in Little Italy. It was tiny and covered with the same unprimed canvas he uses for his paintings. As a lover of food and drink, Langlois knew that sooner or later his love seat would get some kind of stain -- within about a week he discovered he'd spilled about a half a bottle of red wine across it. Annoyed with his recklessness, Langlois started to treat it with absolutely no respect. One of the ways was to start using it as an easel -- he would let paint drip on it and splatter, if he needed to clean paint off a brush he'd wipe it on there -- after a while the accumulation started to look like something. At this point he started deliberately choosing colors for his paintings that would look good on the loveseat. The next logical step was to start using it as the canvas and furniture painting became his chosen medium for Studio Visits.
ROBERT DAYTON’S STUDIO VISITS
Initially confused with the term "Studio Visit", Robert Dayton's thoughts veered to sexual connotations. The whole idea of an art dealer/curator/gallery owner/etcetera as a person of power entering the artist’s space to check out their work seemed to have sexual dimensions to him. And with the possibility of a financial transaction, it seemed like whoring. Dayton proceeded to imagine the artist in the studio without any work up whatsoever. Just the artist stripped completely naked. These large pen and ink and watercolor drawings show various examples of these artists in their respective studios as the looming shadow of the visitor lurks in the foreground. When making the work Dayton detected a less sinister, more metaphysical aspect of these visages entering the artist’s space and began to wonder if the work is the artists themselves preparing to have spirits enter them to better become part of the greater tapestry.
INTERACTIVITY
Both Langlois and Dayton are planning to have their work naturally interact with each other. Sit and immerse. Depictions of artists naked with no work adorn the walls as one sits on actual work. One of Dayton’s text-based works directly comments on one of Jean-Paul’s sofas and the show as a whole.
Then using their DJ personae it's a Studio PARTY! Langlois is DJ P.L.A.N. and Dayton is DJ Body Beautiful who will rock the studio into the wee hours for the show's one night opening which perfectly coincides with Nuite Blanche - October 3rd. When you’re too popped to move, sit on or at the art.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
VISIONS
WHERE"S MY MIND BLOWING ECSTATIC RELIGIOUS EXPERIENCE ??????!?????
(damned iconoclasm getting in the way again)
Is this stemming from a sense of entitlement? Am I entitled to have great powers/dieties come shoot the shit with me be it through locust storms, et al?
I read "The Varieties Of Religious Experience" by William James. The metaphysical world is unmapped. He talks of gaining a deeper experience through meditation. Yeah, maybe I need to meditate. Look at what it's done for people like Mike Love of The Beach Boys.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
SMALL TOWN
Okay, I have a lot -A LOT- of art to make, noooo time, but I am tired of printing glorified press releases on here, I have stuff to say! It's funny, I was wondering lately exactly why I blogged, haven't I been trying to shun Narcissus since my old zining days (and zines really are not that different from blogs in a quaint way)...but I like writing, I like conveying, I like expressing, I like thinking, I like interacting with people. It's also a good way to keep folks in the loop. That said, I want to build my listening skills because people are interesting. Annnnd (total aside: oh man, I am listening to Max Webster now and it is giving me a total rush cuz I am listening to "Battle Scars" which is the song that they did with Rush) this blog helped to land me an office day job! Yes, they googled my name knowing that I must have a blog, they then read the blog and noticed that I am a real human being with a sense of humour. This job does not relate directly to creative expression or blogging at all, except in terms of getting along with and relating to others. As well, I found this out today: I never check the stats on here but someone from a blog that is listed in my sidebar says that a lot of people visit their blog through mine! NEAT! Well, all those blogs are worth checking out in their own ways so that's great! Keep engaged! I gotta get on this stats thing.
This month has been intense. It will take up a few blog posts to be sure. As well as landing a job and other surprises to be revealed forthcomingly, my brother Perry got married in Nipawin, Saskatchewan. Ever been? No? Don't go. Okay, I am so glad I went to this wedding. I am so proud of him, he's a paramedic, she's a nurse, they save and help lives.
So before we get to the meaningful, let's start with the bad. Nipawin. If you have any ideals about small town living, Saskatchewan in particular, I would like to destroy them. My Mother has lived in many Saskatchewan small towns and she has always felt like the outsider. These towns are insular and xenophobic. Open mouths and closed minds. Nipawin was slightly different in that the mouths were closed as well, yet it truly embodied the worst qualities of small town Saskatchewan (Saskatoon and Regina are cities and are exempted as they are really great places in a lot of ways). I had many conversations with the people of Nipawin, the conversations mostly went just like this:
US (ie. ME): Hi. How are you?
THEM: Good.
(then silence)
They also put meat in their potato salad- and probably everything else! Foraging for food when one don't eat much in the world of meat was difficult. Oh, and they all drink booze, lots of it. So I was double weird to them. But I don't feel weird. They feel weird. And that makes me feel weird.
And they stared- alot! They'd sit together but not welcome others. This was one seriously creepy town.
While there I hit a thrift store and purchased a pristine Jimmy Smith Blue Note jazz Lp and an odd seven inch Joey by The Macklin Allouettes for a dime. Putting it on my turntable I noticed this Made In Saskatchewan single was from the perspective of a baby to its' mother. Nice. Then we get to the third verse:
Someday when we meet
On the far off shore
You will see this child
That you could have bore
And your earthly pleasures will all have passed by
And to God up in heaven
You cannot lie
When he says why you didn't
Let me tell you
Mother oh mother, how I love you
Yup. Xtian anti-Choice spiritual blackmail threats, a ballad that uses Jack T. Chick methods of guilt. Never before has such a soft song induced extreme waves of nausea. I will be spinning this at an inappropriate DJ night. One day I may even get an MP3 converter to post on here! (note: please send me an MP3 converter. Thank you.)
So going to the wedding was a touch difficult. And not just because of drunken uncles with rather Draconian immigration beliefs. Two weeks before, my girlfriend left to go to Vancouver for good, for reasons completely outside of my control. Before she left I brought up marriage. A measure for the women I love most? Marriage never seemed an option for me but it represents-when not used to keep someone in the country or as trade for cattle and property-a furthering of commitment and unity. She still had to go...for good. I've been around. And I can honestly say that I have never been in such honest and compatible love before. I struck gold with this one. And people say that it gets easier as one gets older, that one's heart hardens, and love mellows with age. (though I don't feel old- I feel younger than I did five years ago- but I have lived a little) This past month proves all of those maxims wrong. That's kind of a plus in a way, to know that one can fully love and be joyous at any age and, when things end, can feel things strongly as well (but who knows what the future holds anyways right? Is anything truly over? Especially when neither party wants it to end). I am so sad and feel so helpless. Single life, adrift....
But I was happy for my brother. He seems so in love. And I think that this is a good thing. I wasn't worried about him in the slightest. They get along very well. It was a celebration. He threatened a Shrek-themed wedding. I envisioned him painted green. Alas, this was not so but there was Shrek cake with the Shrek couple on it! I am not a Pixar person so have never seen Shrek but the cake made me smile. And it meant so much to be there for him.
This trip really deepened things for me in terms of family and friends. As well as the fragility of life. The important things. I was able to express to friends of the family, who have been there time and time again for us, just how important they are. The friends who sent fun packages to my dying father to cheer him up. The former youth minister who I found out had met us first as, to quote the min Minister at the time, a family in trauma, a sort-of project for him. Soon he became close to us and vice-versa. When my Dad (my real Dad not my birth dad) came into the picture, he conducted the wedding (my Dad gained a wife and four sons all at once). When my Dad died he conducted the funeral and helped us to remember the man our Dad was. And he was there to conduct my brother's wedding. He also gave me a sketchbook of drawings that I gave him when I was twelve. This was such a meaningful gesture. To see these drawings again years later, to see where I've been and how little I have changed core-wise. I still have trouble drawing feet. I will be posting those drawings soon, by the way!!!
I kept close to my mother, I worry about her.
I danced with my aunt.
I got a better understanding of one of my brothers which was needed. After the wedding festivities ended, we drove to our father's grave together. A cat was lingering around the tombstone. I felt like my Dad was drawing the cat to him. I didn't voice things aloud. A few mutterings. My mother's place was set. "I'll hold the door open for you." That is what my Dad told my Mom and that is what was on the tombstone. He was a good man. When I think of terms of positive impact, of affecting others, of making people less lonely, it is in terms of creative expression but my Dad was not creative or even that talkative. But he immediately transformed five lives (my Mother and brothers and me). I was fucking lucky, man! Reading Michael Moorcock's books on The Multiverse -besides teaching me about the spiritual elements of the vast, nearly unknowable cosmic fabric- helps me to see how things can go very differently at the drop of a hat. If my Mother had never divorced my birth father when I was three, I probably would have put a gun in my mouth when I got older. That man was not good. I was the youngest son, I had the least scars. So lucky that a great man stepped in to raise us, dinner conversations full of snot jokes and laughter.
My mother and I stopped into All Citizens, half an hour from my father's grave, an hour from Saskatoon, which is the neatest shop, a mecca in small town Saskatchewan with an espresso machine, Saskatchewan and international art and crafts, really pleasing decor and live shows. And, yes, they are up for touring acts and consignment. Check it here:
http://www.allcitizens.org/
It made me think again of community, reaching others in a way that does not necessarily relate to the fame game, an honesty.
Nipawin made me think about the open interaction I have on a daily basis in the big city. The city doesn't even feel big, there's enough meaningful interaction to make it seem intimate and to combat the bullshit factor. Cities are said to be cold, any place can be, people are naturally lonely all over but if there are ways to make people feel less lonely it's a good thing.
This month has been intense. It will take up a few blog posts to be sure. As well as landing a job and other surprises to be revealed forthcomingly, my brother Perry got married in Nipawin, Saskatchewan. Ever been? No? Don't go. Okay, I am so glad I went to this wedding. I am so proud of him, he's a paramedic, she's a nurse, they save and help lives.
So before we get to the meaningful, let's start with the bad. Nipawin. If you have any ideals about small town living, Saskatchewan in particular, I would like to destroy them. My Mother has lived in many Saskatchewan small towns and she has always felt like the outsider. These towns are insular and xenophobic. Open mouths and closed minds. Nipawin was slightly different in that the mouths were closed as well, yet it truly embodied the worst qualities of small town Saskatchewan (Saskatoon and Regina are cities and are exempted as they are really great places in a lot of ways). I had many conversations with the people of Nipawin, the conversations mostly went just like this:
US (ie. ME): Hi. How are you?
THEM: Good.
(then silence)
They also put meat in their potato salad- and probably everything else! Foraging for food when one don't eat much in the world of meat was difficult. Oh, and they all drink booze, lots of it. So I was double weird to them. But I don't feel weird. They feel weird. And that makes me feel weird.
And they stared- alot! They'd sit together but not welcome others. This was one seriously creepy town.
While there I hit a thrift store and purchased a pristine Jimmy Smith Blue Note jazz Lp and an odd seven inch Joey by The Macklin Allouettes for a dime. Putting it on my turntable I noticed this Made In Saskatchewan single was from the perspective of a baby to its' mother. Nice. Then we get to the third verse:
Someday when we meet
On the far off shore
You will see this child
That you could have bore
And your earthly pleasures will all have passed by
And to God up in heaven
You cannot lie
When he says why you didn't
Let me tell you
Mother oh mother, how I love you
Yup. Xtian anti-Choice spiritual blackmail threats, a ballad that uses Jack T. Chick methods of guilt. Never before has such a soft song induced extreme waves of nausea. I will be spinning this at an inappropriate DJ night. One day I may even get an MP3 converter to post on here! (note: please send me an MP3 converter. Thank you.)
So going to the wedding was a touch difficult. And not just because of drunken uncles with rather Draconian immigration beliefs. Two weeks before, my girlfriend left to go to Vancouver for good, for reasons completely outside of my control. Before she left I brought up marriage. A measure for the women I love most? Marriage never seemed an option for me but it represents-when not used to keep someone in the country or as trade for cattle and property-a furthering of commitment and unity. She still had to go...for good. I've been around. And I can honestly say that I have never been in such honest and compatible love before. I struck gold with this one. And people say that it gets easier as one gets older, that one's heart hardens, and love mellows with age. (though I don't feel old- I feel younger than I did five years ago- but I have lived a little) This past month proves all of those maxims wrong. That's kind of a plus in a way, to know that one can fully love and be joyous at any age and, when things end, can feel things strongly as well (but who knows what the future holds anyways right? Is anything truly over? Especially when neither party wants it to end). I am so sad and feel so helpless. Single life, adrift....
But I was happy for my brother. He seems so in love. And I think that this is a good thing. I wasn't worried about him in the slightest. They get along very well. It was a celebration. He threatened a Shrek-themed wedding. I envisioned him painted green. Alas, this was not so but there was Shrek cake with the Shrek couple on it! I am not a Pixar person so have never seen Shrek but the cake made me smile. And it meant so much to be there for him.
This trip really deepened things for me in terms of family and friends. As well as the fragility of life. The important things. I was able to express to friends of the family, who have been there time and time again for us, just how important they are. The friends who sent fun packages to my dying father to cheer him up. The former youth minister who I found out had met us first as, to quote the min Minister at the time, a family in trauma, a sort-of project for him. Soon he became close to us and vice-versa. When my Dad (my real Dad not my birth dad) came into the picture, he conducted the wedding (my Dad gained a wife and four sons all at once). When my Dad died he conducted the funeral and helped us to remember the man our Dad was. And he was there to conduct my brother's wedding. He also gave me a sketchbook of drawings that I gave him when I was twelve. This was such a meaningful gesture. To see these drawings again years later, to see where I've been and how little I have changed core-wise. I still have trouble drawing feet. I will be posting those drawings soon, by the way!!!
I kept close to my mother, I worry about her.
I danced with my aunt.
I got a better understanding of one of my brothers which was needed. After the wedding festivities ended, we drove to our father's grave together. A cat was lingering around the tombstone. I felt like my Dad was drawing the cat to him. I didn't voice things aloud. A few mutterings. My mother's place was set. "I'll hold the door open for you." That is what my Dad told my Mom and that is what was on the tombstone. He was a good man. When I think of terms of positive impact, of affecting others, of making people less lonely, it is in terms of creative expression but my Dad was not creative or even that talkative. But he immediately transformed five lives (my Mother and brothers and me). I was fucking lucky, man! Reading Michael Moorcock's books on The Multiverse -besides teaching me about the spiritual elements of the vast, nearly unknowable cosmic fabric- helps me to see how things can go very differently at the drop of a hat. If my Mother had never divorced my birth father when I was three, I probably would have put a gun in my mouth when I got older. That man was not good. I was the youngest son, I had the least scars. So lucky that a great man stepped in to raise us, dinner conversations full of snot jokes and laughter.
My mother and I stopped into All Citizens, half an hour from my father's grave, an hour from Saskatoon, which is the neatest shop, a mecca in small town Saskatchewan with an espresso machine, Saskatchewan and international art and crafts, really pleasing decor and live shows. And, yes, they are up for touring acts and consignment. Check it here:
http://www.allcitizens.org/
It made me think again of community, reaching others in a way that does not necessarily relate to the fame game, an honesty.
Nipawin made me think about the open interaction I have on a daily basis in the big city. The city doesn't even feel big, there's enough meaningful interaction to make it seem intimate and to combat the bullshit factor. Cities are said to be cold, any place can be, people are naturally lonely all over but if there are ways to make people feel less lonely it's a good thing.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
NEW ROCTOBER with DOUG RANDLE
Folks, I'll blog something non-promotional soon but I got a new job, busy and tirrrred. The "Leslie" premiere went super-well tho! It gave me a real boost!
Anyways, I got the new ish of Roctober in the mail! Packed as usual! Super-proud of the Doug Randle interview that I did, he's a very inspiring man with a lot of perspective that made an interesting Can Con soft pop record of pertinent themes. I also reviewed tonnes of awesome comix (a regular thing for me now). This issue has loads of stuff on Sky Saxon, Chicago underground, Nardwuar meets NERD, lots and lots of comix!
Order here:
www.dustygroove.com
Hear a Doug Randle track here:
http://www.lightintheattic.net/releases/dougrandle/
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Leslie, My Name Is Evil....
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
WET DIRT plays Hunter and Cook launch
We're on earrrrly (doors 9)....
Hunter and Cook Issue 04 is being launched at Wrong Bar with performances by
Horsey Craze (the Neil Young cover band by Will Kidman & Dallas Wehrle of the Constantines) ,
Josh Reichmann Oracle
and
Wet Dirt
Thursday, September 10th
doors open at 9
Wrong Bar
1279 Queen st west
Toronto
$10 cover ( includes new issue of Hunter and Cook)
Issue 04 features Alex Morrison, Liz Magor, Mark Lewis, Life of a Craphead,Jessica Eaton, Jennifer Murphy, Micah Lexier, Luis Jacob, Claire Greenshaw, Jimmy Limit, Aaron Carpenter, Emma Gendron, and El H
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