Jello Replacement

Here are some things that can happen with jello:





My rainbow jello cake disappeared from yesterday. Melancholy ensues.

Supernova, Jello, Bats and a Puddle

Morning greetings. It is pre-verbal today.

Overgrown Undergrowth

The brain cavity is creeping with vines and branches. It is attempting to orient outward but it keeps curling back on itself. The new theory is to accept it, to allow the bunching and not attempt to tame.

Final painting, I am talking to you. You can do it, you can finish. Become agreeable to my paws and bristles.

Corny I am still hoping you hire a witch to exorcise the spell of the infernal relics. I am hoping the elixir blackout comes right after without too much organ damage.

Xtra Long Hair

Doesn't it seem fun? I am seriously considering the freeing lengths, the sultry wavy locks. I have bought the pumps, the long sleeved number, the smile. The semester has ended, I am free to finish the relics. My smile is as broad as an anal probe is long.

Time Out

I will be taking some time off the blogging in the next little while - finishing paintings, getting my rocks into piles. There is much to be done. Then I will return with more zeal and freshness. The goo-bots are arming themselves in order to assist me.

Eyes and Ears

Will someone please be my eyes and ears? I am blind and deaf, I can sense only with the burning swirly tips of finger. I hardly know a thing anymore. There are tornadoes of synaptic motion outside my window, mixed in with the sunlight. I can't believe how much time has passed. I am meditating on the doodle of cheez and how it curls like a smile.

Shadow Puppets

With fangs and scales, and tongues protruding, we assume the confrontational stance. It is time for the reconciliation of truth or at least bombastic meta-harmonies. I am willing to in spite of apparent malformations. The ratio relationship of the pulverized self to the desire for wanton melding precludes the ability to immerse fully in the other. I am able mostly to intuit either dread or ecstasy. The puppets play out an inconsistent drama. The silhouettes are the hiding place.

August Strindberg

‘I am everywhere, in the ocean which is my blood, in the hills which are my bones’

-August Strindberg

Strindberg was a painter and experimental photographer, as well as a writer...I didn't know about all this until I was tipped off by my pal DS. Thanks!

Check out this excellent article by Barry Schwabsky:

http://www.findarticles.com/p/articles/mi_m1248/is_4_90/ai_84669344

Quotes from the article:

"the very fact that [Strindberg] was self-taught, that he was an amateur, seems to have freed him from all sorts of preconceptions about what a picture should be."

"[There is an] analogy between the materiality of paint and the physical sensation of place..."

"[He wanted to] imitate nature in an approximate way, imitate in particular nature's way of creating." To this end--well before the birth of John Cage or the Surrealists' proclamation of the doctrine of psychic automatism, and three years before Stephane Mallarmes publication of "Un Coup de des" began to edge the theme of chance toward the heart of European esthetics--Strindberg advocated the use of chance methods in artistic creation as a way of realizing a work in which "the whole reveals itself as a wonderful mixture of the conscious and unconscious."

"Strindberg's art was driven by the desire for an unmediated vision, a continuity between thought and matter."

"It can be argued that this is simply the fundamental desire at the heart of all painting: the desire to breathe life into mere colored mud, and for inanimate matter to become transparent to thought."

Chicken Parts or Parts of the Chicken

I hereto have come to believe that it is chicken that binds us together and transcends gender, race, religion, posture, etc. I am you in the chicken wing, you are me in the slimy off-pink breast area. We are joined in unanimous votes in favor of the oppressor. We are bound and gagged in the gut punch of human sensibility. Fortitude is lacking in certain regions; purposeful consumption is not. We must emit gutteral monosylllables and stretch the limbs outward towards assembly with our fellow earthworms.

There is still much work to do on relic #3, an important relic that comprises pink bubbles, mossy ground cover and gesture trunks. All is not well in this relic, it is an awkward inconsistent scene that must be punished into excitement. The goal for the next 4 days is transformation. The raw chicken is my beacon.

Chump By the Sea

This is the alternate version of myself, a water-dwelling scum-sucker that took my pants, even though it's not me. Fishy saggy sac has stolen me pantaloons.

Night night.

Greetings Ether Artists

Circle of Dogs

The dogs are choreographed to slumber in a circle. They foretell of soothe, of glisten, of no taxation. There are Snickers bars and pox under the grasses. Your forebearance is coming in the form of a lisp.

Doktor Wyrd

I am sending out a distress call to Doktor Wyrd, will you please swoop in and save me? There are many issues:

1. My boat is sinking.
2. My torso is full of pains.
3. I am considering garden hosing myself.
4. I am being kicked out of my shack right after my show opens.
5. I am disassociating.
6. There are swellings on the inside of my gut. My gut is connected to my brain and as we all know that is pretty much fucked, so there are two sites of error, two vile sites of error.
7. Krakow's liver is necrotic.
8. Poodles have taken over my soul. They are fouling everything.

I cannot focus on the tasks at hand, the tasks are not completing themselves. My inner hairstyle is mussed. Please, if you see Doktor Wyrd, tell him about the hose. He will not be happy but he will know what to do.

Art as Index (the fruits of our labor...thanks!!!)

Sending out an SOS

Hey bloggers, I am in need of help/suggestions about my class topic for tomorrow. I am having trouble finding images on the internet and anything off the top of your smart heads would be appreciated.

I am going to show images & talk about the idea of drawing as index - meaning anything that leaves a trace, an imprint, a spill - so it is not about direct marks, but rather the residue of an action or a gesture, like automatism, or the residue of another object or texture, as in a rubbing or a stamp or a fingerprint, or the residue of another image, like a xerox or xerox transfer. I want to somehow tie this all together, I know these things are not necessarily visually related, but there is a thread that connects them. I want the students to experiment with these techniques in class and then work back into them with direct marks for homework. Does this make sense?

If you have suggestions of artists, that would be great, or if this sounds too vague, I am curious to know any thoughts.

I have images of the following already:

Max Ernst frottage
Henri Michaux frottage
Jackson Pollock drip
Morris Louis spill
Ana Mendieta arm drawings

Ned's

It was a bash for the ages at Ned's. From the pale green fluff salad to the beauty of the hot dog structure (see Fairy Butler for pix) it was a night we will not soon forget. Slutty whore squats, carefree roboto moves, wig-wearing (both on the head and below the belt), the dance of the cut: you know who you are. We served birch beer and evil margaritas and sidecars which punished us all through the day yesterday. I am still not quite ok but forging onward in the style of the pioneers. We got to tussle with Lupis, WW, Painter, Necrowench, JD, Heart as Arena, BB, Ed Winkleman & Bambino. Thanks for coming everyone.

Kudos and boingy style love to the ether pals:

Krix and her lovely fez, her satchel o' costumes. Sloth and her beard around the waist/fall on the floor specialness, very sexy, yes.Ham Paw and her hot dog sculpture stylings, her karate chop cuts to the torso. I chop you, you chop me, etc. FB in the big glasses, maker of green fluff, originator of the dances of the world...yes FB, you are my hero. WW, you came alive in the wig, you are the pants-shitter for all times and PD...................you know it! You are a busty lass with the robot soul.

Corny dearest you were missed. Yes. You are the hot dog of the universe.

My Outfit

I have put it on already so it will be sufficiently stained by party time. My hairpiece will be set off nicely by the beige-nude hue. I will be nimble. I will be.