poorpoorpoorFALSE EGGTOOTH+art
this has become a conglomerate i think. today .... i went to play Catch & Land. a sort of collage art piece disguised as a ,or rather , it really was a game, taking place in a public space,brownwood park's tennis courts in east atlanta. it was hot. it was fun.
i dont know if i should be sharing this,it seems like perhaps i shouldn't, but im going to anyways: I called the Oracle at Wifi. (and i got my response and it was unnerving) But later,rather than attending the Catch and Land reception at The Cyclorama-i mean to say,the reception for a(new) genre landscape curated by Stuart Keeler and funded by the atlanta office of cultural affairs,i instead decided to go have my eyes gouged out and skull effed by a labyrinth of bile. Delivered mostly on walls and mostly in the form of supports covered in various mediums,in particular..bless its heart, paint. poor poor paint. maybe in the next life, paint, maybe you'll come back as a flower.(one of those flowers that smells like rotting flesh) But,like random lost weeds,maybe an idiot savant toddler in k-mart,operating almost inadvertantly to lose his inbred parents and grow wings - I do have a few honorable mentions(cue product placement-ish fourth wall eye contact gesture here). Amidst the hackneyed slumber of the usual academic charcoal drawings of models, prettyness-es and whatnots, t-shirts,collectibles and happy things, were some things that were just, well, amazingly and positively thumbs-up righteously ugly. david huff was not one of those ugly ones. His work seemed to increase in effectiveness as the scale increased. Shifting textures caused shifting senses,visual perceptions, ranges of feelings from the gut to the cerebral, and many seemed to billow in an upward/outward motion. Very open sky childlike pureness to them.complex and deftly handled layers built up made them work very well.
I have to say, inspite of the fact that each studio is of course its own discrete experience from the others, i still felt awash in a blur of sameness beneath it all..Except for ,of course Maxwell Sebastian, the glazed over stare himself, staring at and rotting the surface of things. Maybe im just depressed, i dunno,shoot, maybe it depresses me, but much of the art in Mattress Factory bored me. One studio ,large abstractions did effectively evoke something akin to Richter,but all in all, the spirit beneath it was so pure and clean, i wanted to vomit. But again,maybe im just needing happy meds so i can see things like the rest of you assholes.
oh hey. I did like one of Latta's Icarus paintings, but found what i considered a need for a narrative element (the image of Icarus falling), in the way of an otherwise amazingly moving composition. icey cold waves and the wind ripping....nice moving stuff. it was sad to me, so therefore i wanted to hug it and meander out onto that depressing shoreline,away from all this other boring rot.(again of course, except for my bud, Maxwell Sebastian..who is ,of course, atlanta's best painter.).and dana ..yr just a freak.
did someone just yawn? there will be an abundance of explitives and crass inappropriate juvenile offensiveness to women and children of all ages shortly, no more self absorbed boring art windbagness. just gossip and trash talk.speaking of boring...FALSE MAGAZINE managed to not be so boring this time. Its layout ,(page color???)somehow seems constrained within its pages,but its range in the handling of the topic of poverty and poorness was great. It opened Pandora's Box on my booty when i tried to compose the thoughts that it provoked. So that's a good thing. Only thing is, it's provocations need to only begin there. I'm sure from the emotion with which many of the articles were written,many of them would agree.
i have to say that i liked the Kavarna Advertisement. Oh heck. I'm not going to mince words, im just going to dive right into this one.
Debt.to even be in debt is better than some places. What it means to be poor. to want. to feel jealousy,or to feel guilt.
Know thyself (call the oracle at wifi )
Hey. Be in debt for what you want ...and it won't seem like debt...well, not all the time anyways. -i believe it has the same ebb and flow of general moods and outlooks on life...is it somehow relative? Life is sometimes mediocre, sometimes it sux, and sometimes it just feels great. I know this assumes a good bit,like that yr able to pay for food and basic necessities for yrself, and in some cases,those dependant upon you. something that comes to mind in Schneider's articlein False, regarding this thing guilt. I know several people who, when you talk to them,references to their financial woes consume them. Relative to whatever they see as their reality,what they want and what they perceive as less than, or limiting them in participating with those around them. they/we- can fall into this dance of unspoken guilt,jealousy and even sometimes...gasp! Manipulation!- with guilt and/or jealousy.or we do not,i suppose, some of us are centered and harmonious with ourselves type blokes,you know,like jon chillybeartoe.
poor people! poor eggtooth! whats the value of anything? halfway across the continent roadside bombs answer that question in one quick fatal explosion. or an earthquake. or a hit and run flipping your ignored body up and to a Mars landing that is as equally ignored. For various reasons and from various levels of suffering from their desires, we find a common denominator in glimpses through our navel gazing. my navel gazing anyways.. Some people are so poor,you could almost say they cannot even be poor. They can't even get on the playing field. Situations, endless. and only relative to me to the extent i allow it to define me.
Relationships. healthy caring relationships.problems.numerous reasons people are where they are. sometimes the best thing to do is not allow yrself to entertain someones self fulfilling self destrictive delusion. problems...from their past ranging from upbringing, to drug addiction and often simple bad luck.Sometimes life does not reward hard work.(wow..that was deep)hmmmm, suddenly, Mental and physical health issues also come to mind...and lastly and horrifingly is the dreaded notion of Personal Responsibilty.
At the end of it all, accountabilty isnt even a measure,it aint even on the grid- even tho' within a relative set of rules that we play with each other, it very much is. Life dont owe you sht. so fck the line from the cool punk song regarding "them" or "they" owing us a living. of course life owes you nothing. It is a fun song,tho. sounds for the pocket black casl guy's enterview was funny,but read a bit like an inside joke,revealing essentially nothing,but still fun.I think it made its point well.
oooh, Guilt.Poverty and False Magazine. Do people want to hang out with people that make them feel guilty for what they have?What makes a person feel this guilt..or is it not guilt,and really, a knowing who is a good influence and who is not? I have to wonder if the origins of my path towards art,in the way i approached art, have anything to do with this guilt thing. I can carry around a sense of self value for what i do. For who i am. Knowing that the subjectivity of what i do fluctuations with context, that value makes it ,uuum , interesting. but i always retain a base sense of my value to , i guess society,and oh yeah,myself. But then again,and to jump erratically like the shitty writer i am, i like to not think about some of the homes in Atlanta i've seen the insides of (as paid labor). a whole 'nother world. With real people with real lives that i will never relate to, not really. But. im not homeless either.
One would think a person in desperate dire situations would become ...who is to say? some could become ravenous, or to quote on Burroughs " In the words of Total Need, wouldn't you? difference i know, is chiefly, he's talking about addiction to metabolically altering drugs. But need, what does it drive one to do? do they look to changing themselves?or ...is it complacency instead of compassion that maintains cycles? darwinism? uuugh. While im digressing, i could say i slipped out of Improv at Eyedrum the other night cuz i got really hungry. i went to 6 feet under and threw down 15 bucks on carbonated beverages and fried seafood. While there, i noticed(i didnt stare dammit..the telvision had golf or some crap on, what was i supposed to stare at..a bar mat?),but i noticed this woman. She had the jet black bob helmet hairstyle,tiny and attractive. she seemed stylish and stuff,pretty cool and unique- then i noticed this ring of monstrous scale on her finger.suddenly her(my) urban dark brooding way seemed like a distressed ramones t-shirt from target. the ring. it was an ostentatious glob of refracting light.. it seemed to contrast with all the stereotypes i'd developed and loved to refer to with a deathgrip.My own perception shifted and lies folded on lies to define my neurotic truth. I betray myself even here and i dont know if i care..
Regardless, some of the issues brought up in FALSE come to mind as i recall this. Suddenly, i felt an imaginary context that i would not want to experience, talking to this person. I would feel poor. (and like i enjoyed fried food and carbonated beverages, but that's different)
Then- today,Encounter with Community(insert that sound effect from A Current Affair here), a 24 yr old (drug addict it seemed) running a hussle at the BP at the corner of glenwood and boulevard..how to help? give him the 30 cents he asked specifically for?....christ...are we all bitching at each other and needing to redistribute just to help, or is all this actually going up...collecting towards something? In defiance to how shit just isnt fair for some.....blech. i drive a truck i paid for,pumping fifty bucks in gas,spending 95 dollars on groceries..and to me,im scrapin'.buy a house? invest in the production of art? art as business? suffering to create,to give something of value. okay. i give.im gonna show my hand.my secret to financial success. i have the ancient manuscripts of Napolean Hill to update as post modern poetry, and incidently, advice.

oh to heck with that. grab the latest issue of FALSE and write what you think to artnews or to a blog. share it with a friend. swat flies with it. spout the news from the sidewalk across from Zestos on Ponce.I.D.C.
sooo,im writing this thing about my calling the oracle at Wifi, and how i didnt go to The Cyclorama,but to the mattress factory. and Catch and Land, the new game that utilizes the same side of three tennis courts. and the reception that took place in the blazing sun. i hear-tell three indian elephants shot three tennis balls in the air in honor, cymbals clashed, chinese dragons danced, gamalan drum circles, whirling dervishes, Captain Kangaroo look alike contest,the Try To Dunk Evan Levy Machine, pin the tail on bill gignilliat, cotton candy, a scroll of iambic pentameter poems dedicated to Gandhi, Jimmy Carter, and Robert E. Lee. my skull hurts and im ugly. goodbye.

eggtooth ist tired from the sun

buy some of my art. im poor and bored, and overweight. and i smoke. im chunky,dammit. call me chunk from now on. like from that kids movie...the rescuers or no..the goonies! yeah. im chunk.
so come out to stone mountain village next father's day weekend for paintings of women in swings and yellow daisy acrylic massacres.blue dogs and flower baskets.peach muffins.? Victorian sentimentalism and funnel cakes.
when yr done-walk 7 minutes away from that (follow the signs for eggtooth) to ,to i dunno. come watch star trek the wrath of kahn.and party like its 1999.