Monday 2 February 2009

AFTER A YOUNGBLOOD RENTAL NIGHT

Heating up. still up from the night before. all warm and fuxxy, like a conversation had with a musician i met last night at Young Blood Gallery.Makes you feel one step beside yourself if you really listen. a bit woozy in backroom bar in tangiers.
They (YBG) have the most comfortable picnic table, by the way.It is green.
Jenny Lavine photography, intimate work, clearly communicated moments of human normality. Myself, as a human male harboring my particular sexual persuasion found some of the photography to be, what's that journalism word, i learned while studying "what is obscene?" all that "i dont know..but i know it when i see it" business? darn it. Oh well. her work was cool. not obscene. Prurient! jeez, i thought i was gonna die for a second there. it just jumped in my head, like a sexual thought. not that i have sexual thoughts, for i am a Man Of God. and men of god dont fck. as you know.
The Critic arrives:
He's wearing Rockports, target brand socks, target brand shorts with 78 pockets and an old black t-shirt from The Gap. his sexy (theres that word again) blonde hair seems to guide and command the wind towards and away from his bald spot. what muscles. what art. what jeh nuh say qua. He has paint spatters, he MUST be an artist himself...how subtle, how indicative of The Creative Life. Why Can't I be You?
I am confronted by a wall, the back wall, like trees in a shakespeare play. is it moving towards me? perhaps not. Where's the wine for my friend here? my old swimming Q.er.
Then thars this This is Mandie Turner Mitchell.Her displacer wall, causing depth perception dilemmas. can i just say this? what a weirdo. she's got this laugh and this smile and these writhing grinding networks of color. they undulate. did he say undulate? my goodness.we dont need any of that around here. Undulating..heavens! this is the proper south yung man, we dont undulate here.I dont care if it is a patchwork of densly(sp) balanced color.
the back wall was not moving, as it turned out. It was my sweet tea going to my head.My roommmate made it.mandies paintings are something else.
Then there this other wall.Maxwell "Cadillac Deville Jones"Sebastian. maxwell sebastian former hood mobster, street hustler, draftsman of the Gods...what can i say ya ODB? naked . stripped bare by her Bones. Descend into a tilted corner and hide behind death.sweat the details out. tight little intricacies(sp) and the floorboards. i touched a painting and got a fargin splinter. that'll learn me. Seems he has no problem showing women how he sees them. which is interesting, if you consider someone elses perspective instead of yr own, my lecherous audience and devoted reader. fare thee well.
Eggtooth"s Icons shimmer from thisother wall.The left handed wall. I, knowing the creed did not look directly at the echo icons. I didnt want to see myself. (imagine that)Stark Abstractions. Almost like a design element rather than design, something leaves me feeling a mood. this large black tangential meme. the right amount left out. truth be told, im haunted. a lesser possession, a grunt smart ass traffic cop of the demon kind. to sassy. too loosey goosie and gooey. vibrating shifts of decorative drips.logic grabs emotion by the bells and ends up covered like a tar baby, ha ha mf'er. please dont throw me in the briar patch. an orange virus speckled dendrite climbs through one image.Here's your sentencing. not unlike humans, it s beautiful inspite of its tragic flaws. its soft underbelly exposed. an attempt at honesty. fractured frames,,,,again logic vs. emotion. how it happens isnt different.

thanks for yr time. thanks Mackenzie for the racecar and the puzzle pieces. I love you all. especially you brian. and you duane. oh and ernesto, you big sexy mug, you. where you at dog? did you get yr show hung well last night? Kisses to the two doggies meandering. tanks to kelly, the patient person and selfless giver. i learn as i go. exponetially. and lastly..thank you Atlanta. I love you, you dang freak.
jeff d.

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