i hate the word. and the human between it. the condition that i must address even now is loving and motivated by need. indeed it has been the 21st century for some time now has it not? and still here we erradicate the teeth in art,we package kids into pockets of themselves to whirlpool and marinate in tradition and mockery of meaning. diseased weakness disguised as pure strength and
logos and published without typos. fuck your cleanliness and what you have to do for your immediate idea of raping hear and now for some supposed noble cause. supposed positivity. supposed respect and education. who will ready you today is your today-ness. your grave will go unmarked. thoughtless. and sold.
ive seen the bookshelves with their centerplanks bowed from ...wait...we wait and we die..and their pages well worn from love-stymied by a body, a flesh of preconceived senses of self-ive seen nothing and wondered at its purity,the planting of a pure idea into that nothing ive seen a city with blocks and grids &templates that require being filled out -of what art in the now has to do-it has to not be seen,to be grafted to itself even with machines especially with machines machines and wires mimic and distract us like faxes, windshield wipers or texting while driving...seeing art while on-line, seeing art while dualities of what is real,what is stamped with approval exude a mediocre gummy oozy swinging dollar sign
important issue castrated . it's another kind of castration one castrates by being relevant and leaving a mark for the future. the other castrates the future by being somebody's safe acceptable idea of now.
reality closes a gap on itself with a new duty to eat itself. the goal's vehicle is to find its own tail and start levitating,chewing and vomiting...and crying and smiling.
is what and why the lingering distraction wont settle the desire to be alone and just think or delay and saturate,collect thoughts and regurgitate. what the heck
is spontaneous and what is meaning implicated and safety -is there a direct route to saying something or is it all about being cute & marketable what the heck
is this too ambiguous for you or even me,trained and framed to present to you? it isnt. i know. to reach an audience -like somethng caught in the earths gravitational friction it explodes when it hits sometimes,but not usually. thank goodness...transformed and eroded by a safe necessity.
globular malnourished wisdom with techniques and tattooes. proper ways of being inconsistant and accepting dont exist,in order to get your message across
coalesced in the now,to the moment-the very symptom of now embedded inthe need to be,the need to do things a certain way-in response to itself and hiding its hand and being not huble because that implies a sortof self serving self awareness but actually real-no hand to hide
but exposure. reaching. meaning anymore. the old vehicle appears to work but only to a certainend anymore. theres no choice and who makes that only choice people i will never see. just like it shld be the delayed message like thousands of years ago travel now..how? by the future. by lore that reached generations later of what happened now...travelled still by the flesh not instant wires.
Kelvin Well sing eye inn gee bow queried loose keys. In fattable lather amongst browned 70's shack drabs with wide form & indie ukulele spork.
Saturday mannered very fungus locust boners and bonanza. Hearken alarms and yellow blinds. Calculus guffawed sparing elevatored deadhead kudzu. Thought bubbles in awkward blocks that dropped and sloughed.
For instance: Succinctly sips Perceval & wishes wet cinders of citrus. -so slow and susceptible they subsist Thyroid lakes it salivates a cyst, it's slavish lavish, slumbers spar panty teabags. Slender sanguine and bovine.
& sin stirs sister's sinister silo of siccatives & sycophants. Meal swine mean wily so adorable you sew and sew. Solipsism's somnambulist suck succubus's Socratic bus sized breasts. Blech.
Mow ring awning tube an odor story tropic. Belfry larynx cabalistic toe roach and protozoa. The pundit informed morons black fungus.
i went to see the undercover show at spelman and felt like it was a nice presentation of an archive of images. its range bared a single ,if not very generalized theme of the disguising of identity-as it relates to african-american women-and how. and why. an interesting aspect pointed out to me by a fellow patron,was the distinction of decades. both of us being children of the 80's found ourselves drawn to recognizing works from that time period. i must confess to feeling as though the show,and its theme,were not explored to a full extent. perhaps it would be even more accurate to say that the show did not really exactly explore a theme so much as loosely use it.they served a different purpose,and in doing so ,did itself a disservice. It revealed where it could have been very real and perhaps even angering,where it could have been touching ,saddening,but instead-mostly- it was beautiful. it was about being an idea of an art show. while everyone in life "disguises" themselves,one could observe this takes place from minute to minute,changing ever so slightly if not in extremes,by each isolated or individual encounter we have.this certainly respects that some individuals are born with a hefty and more complex version of this same basic human necessity. it is,what could be described as -unfair.profoundly unfair,or even "evil"- to humans with ideals and dreams and even a touch of spiritual sense about them. the belief that we as humans can evolve beyond and actually eradicate certain traits. acceptance... in this show acceptance is not being strived for-it acquiesces to an idea of presenting someone's idea of art. i am somewhat hesistant to say this because of fear. not fear in an awareness of the dangers of say, putting my hand in fire or a malnourished lion's cage,but fear that is another kind of respectful. I really want to emphasize the honesty and respect in this comes from expectations and a kind of patience that is direct. direct to fear because i love. i must turn that fear into something else and in doing so-the respect grows. i respect this show for some fundamental human purposes. it serves the job of historical interest. various works in the show were beautiful. some of them were images that for so long have been part of the language of fashion and advertising as to be able to do nothing much beyond trigger that association. this show seemed to be more about representing an examination of changes over specific decades. The proposed theme was there,but what seemed to come to the forefront was artistic styles and techniques. Styles of photography, diligent detailed drawings,painting,film,clothing-there were many amazing things in this show,true. it takes several long moments to soak in. many works were by widely recognized names. this educational aspect,that itself can easily create a wonderful image. my supreme ideal is fascination in the inspiration of a future mind. accepting that this here now,within a realm of art-can reach beyond that into life. with all this being said,this show is worth going to and taking each piece on an individual basis.
the unscratched itch has its origin in a service that art can surely provide,tho. It can incite and be relevant in a generalized sense of the word "curation". in that curation,the challenge,especially given the importance of the theme,would be to emotionally engage what would hopefully be the entire city.and maybe even the country. experiences(art experiences)---in order to affect social change,wouldnt they need-or by uninhibited sheer passion be incapable of not striving- to saturate and mark memories- sometimes realizations should be embraced. and those realizations recignize what must be done on its terms not others. to do the latter infact not only negates-but threatens to make mockery of the entire purpose. this show doesnt do that. its quality on an indivdual basis rule sitself. the duty is on the viewer to find the challenge. the viewer must come to this one because nothing of it is going to come to you.
it is an historical show. it is a presentation of "art". and it will come and it will go. in atlanta.
in other news..i still havent made it to whitespaces latest sarah emerson and..some other guys...show. ive seen i mages and it looks pretty. like some large energy rippling pieces and flavorful charactered sculptures sprouting up and about..anyone have any opinions?
oh! i saw an advert for a gallery that has done nothing but reinforce certain mediocre expectations-has in fact pin-pricked a glimmer of interest. emily amy has a collage show up i have to wonder. im not holding my breath...but by golly i might just have to dip in and have a see.
i heard steve dixey sold well at beep beep . so thats good. the pieces he does are stunning with a robert williams reminiscent/level of technique. i havent been to this particular presentation of his work yet.....i bet they look neat as heck,tho.
i wish kibbee gallery were open on days other than opening & closing..i missed the golden blizzard thing.i suppose i could have put forth the effort to go see it,i was aware of it taking place, i just decided to watch dvd's instead. i am basically familiar with this groups works. i bet they were extremely neat. now that i think on it, i think they shld openly Publicly Show a taken cue from/for/with paper twins.... speaking of pt-saw another balls out juse movement-air dangling loose spray on side of green bridge high over 2o--just before lowery coming towards 75 junction web etc... so much graff openly happening now-but honestly most ofit is like a collective afterthought. like it fills expectations. yawn. and then some even put their phone number and contact info and -uuugh. is the internet the only place to do graff now?
im reading scorch atlas by blake butler.i just got it in the mail from featherproof press. jesus but christ did it take FOREVER to show up. but i am glad it did. butler's random flow of energy,the braiding of disparate distinct fleshed out ideas into one forward moving coalesced powerful thought is a freaky toe-tickling ride. hes serving up quick punches in this one and they are amazing,kinda grody and gritty and drag grey claws across yr gut.but great. im in inspired & in admiration at how adeptly he grafts fascinating separate skull-found sentences of such saturated specific flavor-how they dont make fucking sense in such a perfect way. he effs with expectations while having a dark sense of humor about it.
what else what else what else. sure there's lots else....somebody flesh me out. adendummy.
AS MANY STARS AS BLOGS...Congestion and the tingle deep in the passage,it goes astray and dangles there. A thought. ugly and yours. significant. (apathy.) Sometimes a measure is a distinct line,ultimately unflexable,ultimately solidified in a respectful consistant resolve. allowed within that judgment is something of a built in feature, a grandfather thought-one that in itself is its own "ultimately". It cannot deny or help but embrace and allow for acceptance and permissability. In doing this,a door thrown open-it was finally achieved and permeated as a thought and an intent and concept. until even it itself----dissipates and blends in.accepted and leveled out.
(you cant make somebody care. or can you?)
what does money mean and which comes first? what are modern implications about being responsive-with or without knowledge of that which came before you?
(accessibility to information & electric conversations connected to information accesible to people to art to artists a line becomes drawn around a perimeter, a gerrymandering morphing blob that consumes all at the thought-stretching it to a thin line like a horizon that was finally actually walked into- that is only definable by something that walks directly on it,trying to imagine itself smearing and widening that very line...in some cases flirting with what has now clearly become one side or the other. under this influence and through these eyes,ever curious to be precognotive or prophetic or perhaps a mirror of these times.... these times who belongs to these? this perspective is frm a soldified place. itis insigniifcant in what has now become one of many. as many stars as blogs. as lonely important individuals behind them importance.
context and value.
a traditional manner of displaying art..of declaring..this is where art is being shown. to go and see it with preconceived reasons for why you are consciously putting on this awareness. this reason all are good reasons. complicated to some or not,but simple and taken to whatever personallimit desired. but practicalites to maintaining this ability to experience.
beautiful work but why?
confess you feel that your show is valuable and you have your own loving reasons why you do it and who it is for. why you show. not why you create. (that is a different fundamental.)
you are all included. atlanta's is a particular situation as part of the concept indirectly constructed around your experience it is not a global or local one,truth be told.but the measure that holds up to all reveals a condition that -when honestly held against anything it asks for not just more but a heart wrenching human salty sweaty word taste of being pushed to a sensation impossible to bond but all feel and yearn to connect it asks for this kind of more.
it would respectful for you say that you are aware that what you show is not art.
and in doing so confess so as to validate some scratch of your existence to perhaps save some face so that maybe if your importance would be actually realized it would create an environment for you to prosper as you innocently and obviously of well intentions seek to survive and mean something.