Tuesday, September 27, 2011

Fish Belly


In the belly of the whale

I sit shamed like Jonah

Failure to do the teller’s told



In the belly of the whale

I wait,

To be swallowed

Consumed by shame

I wait,

To wait

I wait,

To be spewed

Violently released

I wait



The waiting kills me,

In the belly of the whale

There’s no way out,

Of this belly in the whale



I wait

To wait in the belly of the whale

I wait

Sunday, September 25, 2011

Stenciled

Apparently, I am really inspired by unemployment... I'm starting to think TIME really is a crucial part of CREATIVITY.

Started cutting out some stencils today:



Two images:



Layered look like this:



Now it's time for paint!

Friday, September 23, 2011

Something and Nothing

Maybe I'm just looking for a reason to write or maybe an exhibit actually got me....



Beyond knowing that Charles Allis had a factory in Milwaukee and was an art collector, I don't know much.  The mansion, Charles' home for seven years turned library turned museum and historic site, housed a variety of displays - some his, some not. Though his life was brief within these walls, one exhibit trapped him in this time, this place.

His bedroom was dark. The shades drawn on an already cloudy day. Musty as old houses always are. 100 years of smell in one place. A simple, minimally furnished room. The bed. The fireplace. A few steps to the center of the room and I realize there isn't much to look at. In my periphery I catch a change in light within the attached bathroom behind me. I spin. All seems normal. Again, I take to the center of the room and look towards the mantel. It's hardly seconds before I sense movement again in the same place there was nothing. I can feel it behind me. This room is not about what's there, rather what's not. He's here. He never left.

Startled. A crashing tin sounds the empty room. Loud. The sound rings bigger than the room itself. It's behind me again. And I spin to nothing again. No matter where I am there is something and nothing behind me. The sounds bring me to a derelict factory. Perhaps, Charles own plant devastated by modernity. Run down and forgotten as most factories exist today. Between the echoes of clanging metal, in the silence I hear the machines waiting for life.

He's here and he's bothered by what has come of his livelihood. His ghost has seen today. His ghost has brought today to this room. It haunts him while he haunts me. There's a draw to the bathroom tub and I can't help but feel like he died there. I feel like I could die there. Swallowed by the past. My chest is a little tight and reality seems far away.

It doesn't take long to put the exhibit together. Built-in surround system with localized sound effects. The bathroom light mocked by a projector behind frosted glass creating subtle and sudden changes in the environment. Just enough to make you second guess your sanity. Even knowing that though - I had a moment of being caught in the whispers of the past and the promise of an afterlife, and it kinda creeped me out.




More info: Charles Allis Art Museum

Sunday, September 18, 2011

Driving Palette

What about driving excuses your palette?

My usual road trip food is Combos. Nacho Cheese. Pretzel shell. I have never purchased Combos anywhere other than small town, highway exit gas stations. And I have never eaten Combos outside of my drivers seat. Call it vehicular comfort food.

I'm certain we all have them.

I deviated on my route to Milwaukee Thursday, strayed, but not far... from the norm of my poor driving palette.

I stuck with the cheese (maybe it's a Wisconsin soil thing? No... I've done Combos beyond our dairy borders...) and added coffee. Yeah, I added a Starbucks Vanilla Frappuchino to my Bucky Badger Triple Mix Popcorn.

Gross.

At the time it was perfect though. Comfort as I cruised through Fort Douglas.

Can I tell you something else? Wisconsin knows how to do cheese popcorn like no other. There's a "Chicago Mix" at the best Candyland store in Minneapolis, old fashion, been doing it right for years, but their cheese can't stand up to Bucky. Not a chance.


This cheese made the kernels almost feel wet with flavor. This cheese still sits in the beds of my fingernails, thumb and pointer on my left hand, still suggesting the blazing orange glory that was. The kind of cheese, that I actually considering what I would do with my mess of a hand if I were to get in an accident while driving.... I knew the cheese would be my last image before impact.

I could go on and on about this cheese.... but this is on TV:


And I'm finding it hard to concentrate. Too Cute! Animal Planet... dammit, you got me....