MEDIUM-FORMAT CAMERA my new series of disappeared

here's the polaroid proof of the building I cannot wait to disappear. . .a new innovation for me, in that I am figuring out how to use a real medium format camera. . .feelz so good and makes a superior image to paint over!

I just love this particular location (scott blvd at cumberland mall) . . .been watching it since spring! it's the perfect size commercial building, so beautiful and petite with it's glass windows and awesome leftover typology. a picturesque showroom in front of an accidental bamboo grove. I especially appreciate the empty car dealerships along our downtrodden highways! these spaces are so symbolic of our dematerializing times. I much prefer them empty. they make a great aesthetic for the future. . . imagine them as roller skating parks, gardened piazzas for outdoor cafes and life music : )

-kt

FRIEND ADMITS TO BAD PUBLIC ART

I love getting messages from old friends. moving around in childhood did its damage on me. I have tended to just leave the past and the people that populated it behind like some finite fiction. . . but of course, all this silly facebook activity in the last year and half has stirred up a lot of real people I once knew, who are still having their lives. it's really great.

so, the in-flow of old friends continue. . .the latest communication I received was so bizarre, I just have to share it:

I received a random email from an old high school buddy, who is now living in south texas. . .he filled me in on the pertinent details. . .yes, he's balding, has 4 children, two of which are adopted from china. . .and is an artist, too. it all seemed kind of interesting and my heart was warmed that he thought to write, that he remembered my old artistic pranks. I responded immediately. then found another second email from him with just a single line or two, saying he felt like a sell-out artist. I thought that was odd, but was nice and replied, " well, aren't we all sell-outs, as artists, when the market is so unavoidable. . ."

then he wrote to me again. . .to confess, I guess. I uncovered the real reason he emailed: to say that
he was commissioned to do a statue of Laura bush for a library. (!) he rather enjoyed hanging with the bushes. . .nice people and all. I think he remembered my opinionated nature and was fishing. . .or was he being antagonistic. . .how cruel? he and his friends in high school were masters at a sarcastic brand of humor. . .so I do have to wonder.

here was my response:

" 'I was commissioned by a library to produce a statue of Laura Bush '

. . .wow, it took me a moment to recover from reading that. (I see what you mean about selling out. . .WOW. . .) (are you joking?)

. . .today, my boss at my main freelance gig was distressed to discover her sister going to washington to protest obama with a despicable, ignorant group called "americans for prosperity". . .we looked up the website to find obama being compared to hitler . . . (http://www.americansforprosperity.org/national-site). and not that I'm totally happy with obama, but I'm thinking that's totally unfair. just 6 years ago, an fbi agent would haul you away to a prison camp if you published such a thing about old W. . . .no, I have no sympathy for bush, regardless of how complicated a person he is or was, no matter what a friendly guy he is in person. . .he is a criminal! he lied about war. he cheated in the polls. he was a goddamn cowboy puppet for terrible despots who greedily controlled our country. . .and wrecked it pretty damn good. and, he's going to get away with it. . .I remember days when it seemed as if his regime was not going to end but just get more nightmarish, even the new york times was complicit. . . hardly any political protest was heard from the people. we just all shut up and watched more television. . . so much complacency, and ignorance. . .and laura b, seems very much the good ole-fashioned co-dependent, trophie wife. sure, maybe they are nice people . . . but look what they are responsible for. the worst kind of assholes, indeed are the nice ones.

anyhow, what an art resume builder . . .maybe, I hope, you made a double and can place it somewhere remarkable, in a decade or so. . .like at the top of a steaming landfill mountain or something.

ok, I just had to say that. sometimes I cannot even believe we lived through that bullshit right here in america!"



. . . I went on the say nice, sincere things about his family and place of residence. he has not written back. not a peep.

was I too harsh?

would I have taken such a commission? (well, I HATE bronze sculptures! I can barely think of a more despicable kind of middle class public art!, so hopefully the answer is no. . .) but I sell out all the time as a graphic designer. for me the art is where I try not to compromise my creative integrity. but some people I guess don't think they can take that luxury.

very strange encounter. what did I get out of it? a good story, I suppose. . . also I took a chance to articulate my feelings about that old administration. funny, it was only a few years ago, now. how soon we forget!


-kt

GOODBYE MORELAND AVENUE

4 boarded-up craftsman style cottages have sat lame across from the suburban style shopping center called Edgewood, just south of Little 5pts on Moreland avenue. It's been at least 2 years this way. The only graffiti on the cement bridge nearby is a wheatpaste by local artist R.Land. . . a large graphic of clasp hands which says, "pray for ATL." but plenty of graffiti had accumulated on these 4 houses. . .that is until july 4 th 2009, when they took the first three, leaving one orphaned in public for another 4 days. Until their ultimate point of disappearance, they stood as a large scale unofficial artistic display, a symbol of our ever-changing city.




For now what remains is this staircase. And this is the quintessential (& totally unconscious) public art for atlanta--cement staircases leading to empty lots where a house was removed. Our city is absolutely littered with these particular remnants. Take notice sometime. I think they should all be painted pink or striped yellow, so that they are better marked. . .We should try not lose these wonderful, unobtrusive monuments to the invisible. They are precious breadcrumbs to our recent past.






Here is a house further south on Moreland Ave. . .You can see it's reaching a climax of decoration. Will it be the next to go?

DANCE PARTIES

this is a good one! (from my collection of 70s, national geographic clippings). would make a great billboard, I think.


alas, photographs and parties. . .they do so rapidly. . .disappear!

DOWSING

to "dowse" is to focus on something lost or invisible and divine for its location. according to wikipedia, it's a thousand-year-old tradition coming out of germany. we know about it in association with finding well water. but according to the experts, you can dowse for pots of gold, lay lines, underground waterways, lost slippers, unicorns or just use a pendulum like a ouiji board to derive yes and no answers.

currently, I'm having issues with my house. . .or maybe it's just my life. . .kind of hard to tell. I think there are cosmic forces at work and I want to somehow manage it. . .gosh, there's a lot of conflict and hell breakin' loose. a real tornado stormed over it last year in march (see my houseclearing performance in c'town), and many neighbors say that its mark of chaos is still around. why not act to alter the energy of this place, a little freaked out still from natural disaster? perhaps underground waterways and invisible energy currents are having an effect. if the management of such things are pretend, than it's a good performance. . .but I like to believe in such things.

fiction or not, I believe it's important to design mysticism (an acknowledgement of the unknown) into contemporary suburban reality. (an interesting match, and, perhaps, a natural progression).

so, in search of energy experts, I set out to the georgia dowser's monthly meeting in the appropriately named northern suburb of atlanta, roswell. (see new mexico & UFOs). . .a friend forwarded me the ga dowser website with this caveat: "I go just for the theatre. . ."

more coming some day I feel like retelling the story. . . .or you can ask me to tell you sometime in person : )

SUNSETS & OTHER GRAPHICS

this is a clipping from a newspaper advertisement, where sunsets are about as commonplace as yellow graphic bursts.




I once saw a billboard when travelling in florida. . .it said:

"We'll sell you a sunset!"

. . .in brush script!

COUNTRY VS SUBURBS, WHO WILL WIN?

I have a graphic design press check that takes me way out into the western suburbs of atlanta about every two months or so. . .

I drive 20 minutes up the big interstate and exit into a scourge of brand new development, temporarily slowed by economic downturn. I am quite familiar with such sites, for this is the kind of transitional locale that I grew up in. areas like this are filled with a sense of passive non-place. The old countryside environment is defenseless to erasure; it is removed in neat square chunks by an oddly opposite, big box commercialism. Such development, now somewhat passé in urban centers, still attempts to multiply out here, but the country roots remain. . .stand side by side with the new emerging artificial environment. it reminds me of how such places COULD be developed in a radically different way. who knows. . .if the economy continues to collapse, these places may stand a chance.




. . .I found an old cemetery across the street from a walgreens shopping plaza. a dirt road veers from lines of traffic into a shady vertical strip of contemplative land. this beautiful empty lot is preserved for the dead. it's full of buttercups, grassy shade and fake flowers on turn-of-the-century stone graves.








down the road are lovely meadows, cleared a few years ago and now in bloom, with blue plastic pipes poking up and capped for future construction. old houses sit empty and overgrown with vines, awaiting removal







. . .no bother hanging for sale signs here. . . these are ghost scenes of the future.




everytime I drive out here, there is a tremendously appealing series of parkinglots that sit on the crest of a hill. I can see this awesome empty place--grassy and decorated with graffiti--well from the highway.

on this particular trip, I attempted to locate it, getting on an access road. but alas, it disappeared. . . .I did however find a very cool commercial building--an old "LA FITNESS" center. the landscaping is old enough to have grown in, making a really gardenesque parking lot!. . .and this reminds me just how great repurposing such a site could potentially be.







my imagination takes me away. I think of the movie set. . .you know where subculture freaks hold meetings and black-market deals at the back. . .


(here's the back of the place. . .pretty seedy)

but also I think of the subterranean garden that could be carved out of the entrance area. . .and also the tremendous roof-top garden. in some kind future, this would be a hang out with a small stage and designed green space. . .where you'd find sculptured shrubs, birds, weeping willows and lovers holding hands. . .why not?

SUBURBAN AVANT-GARDE

. . .MY VISIT TO ARTIST E.K.HUCKABY'S COUNTRY DOMAIN IN SUBURBAN ATLANTA. . .

artists certainly can create the illusion of time-travel. there's a certain brand of artist that picks the pockets from the past and recreates a living alternative world, immune for as long as the artist lives, from the realities of the mainstream. and I dare say such artists are very precious librarians. . . that present a carefully designed past.

there's something of 1910 in huckaby's place, as well as something deeper from a 19th century southern countryside. there are overarching tones of asia, and also the brutality of body in this magical fiction e.k. huckaby lives inside. on Huckaby Rd, he shares the country-ish block with mcmansions, and subdivisions named "the chimneys," yet e.k. roams 30 acres of land, planting groves of bamboo. here, he stubbornly holds back time. . .thank god there are people like him.



. . .and he's open for visits. we had coffee in his kitchen as music boxes were somehow amplified throughout the house. the windows were open, blowing off the dust from a lot of encrusted objects, including photographs and paintings.

I was surprised to find out he actually grew up in the suburbs. I now better understandand why, perhaps he was attracted to expound into, artistically, this other bygone southern lifetyle. I, too, am a product of those historyless, identityless suburbs, and tend to fictionalize pasts as a result.

lots of good books around, stately shelves are made from cut up doors and installed in the dark central hallway. . he has a clever code: vertical books, he's read, horizontal ones are yet unread. his bedroom is painted the most wonderful dusty purple, with black trim. . .his bed sits in the center of the room surrounded on the walls by a collection of funerary photographs, most of them turn of the century. ( amazing! )



as we walked through the woods looking for sprouting bamboo, I said something about the layers of memory this place must have for him. . .he retorted that not all of them are so romantic. . . he remembered hogs being hung from that tree there, being disemboweled.



his manner is gentle and patient, but his objects present sharper edges, a morose love of age . . .I relate. I also see a sense of humor there. . .and, of course a refreshing fearlessness of mortality. I think he enjoys sneaking up on you in this subtle way. he's confident. he has all the time in the world.



here is a quick list of objects that left an impact: bones, a real placenta under glass, stuffed birds, a fox with glasses, decaying paper lanterns, a geometric glass box, a slice of brain wedged beween glass, saws, teeth, a lot of white rocks in piles, a stack of black books about myth and the devil, a girl with a candle inside a large glass lantern, a real maxfield parrish print, busts and clocks, a wax telephone on red velvet in side a plexiglass box, a resin-thick painting of a thousand lamps, boxing gloves, seeds.

I asked him if he was a theosophist or spiritualist. he said, he has his own version of theosophy. . . (note to self: ask him about that on the next trip to wonderland.)

here's a really great interview robert cheatham did with e.k.

URBAN CENTERS = "CORPORATE HUBS"

"several factors make widespread revolt less likely today. Our cities are no longer dense, overcrowded industrial centers where unionized laborers and disgruntled strikers might take a public stand. Concentrated inner-city poverty has declined, too, so don’t expect 1960s-style ghetto unrest."

Our urban centers are instead corporate hubs and the victims of this recession include hundreds of thousands of white-collar workers. For obvious reasons, these folks tend not to have the particular sense of grievance — that a select few are receiving preferential treatment, that they’re on the losing end of a rigged game — that usually sets off a conflagration."

-FROM
Feeling Too Down to Rise Up
(Op-Ed -new york times)
By SUDHIR VENKATESH
March 29, 2009

(photo courtesy of isolina)

but of course the writer is an established new yorker (columbia u, new york times, etc. . .), he seems quite nostalgic for the kind of urbanity places like new york city used to provide. he nails it when he demeans today's urban centers to "corporate hubs."

(interesting to note, that this was published just days before the "Financial Fools day" G-20 protests in London, which seemed to contractict this. . .)

another related note: I've been watching new york chef and food critic anthony bordain's "no reservations" on dvd. . . the most recent episode went to las vegas, where bordain just freaks out over a commercialized replica of his home city inside some casino: new york city converted into a "T.G.I. McFriday's," he complains. . . (and as he walks through "venice" he calls it: "gondolas in swimming pools inside a mall". . .) . . .in the end, he states sadly to the camera:

it may seem as though las vegas reproduces new york city, but actually its more like. . . new york city is becoming las vegas. . .

(and the removed las vegas is in a sign graveyard for tourists)



alas, from two new yorker's points of views, A+ American cities are not the edgy cultural-political wonderlands of yore. . . so it makes you wonder, then is there really no one gathering physically for dissent, and also for counterculture experience, as this author worries out loud? are there really not enough numbers for resistance to the monoculture?

i really doubt it.

perhaps as the "public" gets more pervasive online, and urban centers only hubs of glassed-in safety. . .the subcultures must become more secret, and more remote. perhaps it's not the urban centers which will provide the space for these gatherings. . but the wildernesses (in all senses of the word. . .) interesting.

-kt

WINDOW WORLD

(FOUND PHOTO, courtesy Misty Harper, great collector of objects and fictions. . .)

"Window World" is a fantastic logo I once saw on the side of a truck. Plenty banal, it advertised a window company, eager to install professional sturdy windows in homes and businesses world wide. . .

but, I thought the phrase was brilliant. . .it fits a larger understanding of our shared reality which is becoming quite imprisoned inside windows. we live our lives inside. . .but gaze outward through computer screens, windshields, bay windows, glass houses, corporate buildings, the endless lenses of cameras, etc. . .and I suppose a problem with that sort of 2-dimensional exterior, is that it can be so easily manipulated. we start to believe the screen version. . .or the image projected inside the window, instead of going out there to see (and touch) for ourselves. we become fearful and disconnected with the actual outside, and yet in love with it from an unconsummated distance. . .fiction is more dramatic and exciting than hard-knocks reality, anyway. who would want to live outside, unprotected. . . staring inward with the rest of the derelicts on the other side of the glass?



In an interview about his new book called The Disappearance of the Outside , Andrei Codrescu spoke to the same idea . . .that we now live in the interior. surprisingly, Codrescu traces our migration to the interior to the 1970s. but, I thought this migration was directly related to the introduction of the internet. curiously, when you look at the visual fiction of the 70s, the wildness and nature are very present (e.g . . .). that's interesting.

(more later. . . . . . . . .)

ACCIDENTZ

I believe that time (a rather flexible material) is moving faster than ever before. . .due to many reasons including the advancement of communications technologies, we move through shared time together at a speed that is now faster than logic.

this is the reason I think the industrial age is entering a new re-spiritualized phase. to flow with the pace of the global mainstream, one must stay light and mobile. that's in attitude and in material weight. to take the time to consider things, to follow the rigors of logic, is very expensive in time. time spent this way must be strategic in our new superspeedy reality. those who do well, can change on a dime, readjust to new situations rapidly, make wise decisions on the spot. . .and, this style of living, I believe, is done best with a keen sense of intuition. increasingly people must feel their way through--no time to weigh the choices carefully.

with everyone rushing about, socializing and responding instantly at all times, travelling at breakneck speeds, able to change directions like psychotic atoms in cyberspace, constantly updating how things are done, keeping track of what everyone else is doing through our new society of cameras and channels of communicaitons. . .it's no wonder there are a proliferation of accidentz.

ironically, as we achieve unprecedented control over the world through technology, we also spin easily out of control and CRASH alot.

this is not a bad thing, aside from the pains and shocks of collisions. an accident is a moment when things stop or slow down after an explosive shock. it is a most raw, human and honest moment. . .it sobers things up. . .it makes a mark in time (a scar, perhaps). it reminds us of our mortality . . .of the power of things beyond our control (like nature) . . .and also of our own carelessness.

accidentz are not new. they have always been a sexy spectacle of the industrial revolution. look at the picture above: a famous crash in victorville, CA 1968, "topless mother of eight" is decapitated. this is my copy of the police photograph. I have altered it to remove the accident from the landscape. . .an act of geographic healing.

THEORY OF OBJECTS

are you someone who leaves drawers open?

(cabinets, books, etc.)

I am.

what does that say about a person? . . .I like to leave a room with all the drawers ajar. someone might think I'm mad.

the kitchen. . .the studio. I want to leave a place and think. . .there's something left here for me to go back to. . .I don't want to close up anything from my sight which I haven't fully mined through. . . keeping options open, made literal.

what am I looking for and have not found? not sure. . .
but sometimes I have a heart attack, when I open a good drawer.

how good is my magic today?

(**LIBRARY OF OBJECTS**)

LOCAL VS PROVINCIAL

provincial: a person of local or restricted interests or outlook b: a person lacking urban polish or refinement

at a kkprojects opening event during new orleans' first biennial I had an intense conversation with an art professional who lives between berlin and new york city. while he enjoyed several $7 cocktails composed of aged vinnegar, champagne and some other herbal specialties, he espoused how atlanta will never have an art scene because of it's provincialism.

at first, I listened and agreed. atlanta (where I live) is a very conservative, small town for an urban population of nearly 5 million. it's a cultural suburb (with real strip malls, parking lots and sprawl), whose main concern is corporate business. however, our social elite wish to be ranked with other national fine art clubs and thus support conventional "arts." there's a small wild music scene (centered around celebrity low-browsers deerhunter & the blacklips). but, as far as art goes, the ATL receives second-hand artistic franchises, authority figures and hits from other places with submissive excitement. the high is our greatest museum, architecturally. it's a wonderful white whale of a building designed by richard meier and filled with fluffy populace programming for women with strollers, busloads of students and the genteel, looking for light afternoon entertainment. they are herded in and their ears are stuffed with the voices of electronic guides. I have witnessed it all too many times: the interior galleries of the main shows, filled with lines of single filed visitors, shuffling silently clockwise along the walls.

even the most highly regarded commercial art galleries here (Saltworks, Get This!, Whitespace, Marcia Wood, Solomon Projects), must go elsewhere to receive creditation, get inspired and make money. if you want to go to core artistic sources of our times, see experiments, deviations from norms and new daring developments, you'll need to hop on a plane or lurk online. and if you practice art here, you'll need to comply gracefully with these values and your place in the world as a lesser practitioner. . .or develop an inflated, uninformed sense of self worth, rejecting the locals' fear and judgement at anything that doesn't imitate these accepted mainstream norms. a strange kind of provincialism, indeed. this is a provencialism that focuses not on local indigenous culture, but instead limits itself to a gentler version of other urban cultural standards.

so is the fate of being in a submissive cultural city in a time of globalization.

but, then I began to disagree with that art professional quite a lot . not only did he condescend to atlanta, but he also condescended to new orleans "locals," as well. I could agree about atlanta, but new orleans?. . .it has one of the most original independent cultures in this country. like any outsider art culture, there might be some clueless, distracted, lazy or just plain disappointing art practitioners there. . . but I'd dare say, that as a contemporary context for artistic practice, new orleans is one of the few places right now that still has the spirit to sustain a dynamic art movement like what happened in crusty, edgy, abandoned soho of the 50s. it became apparent to me that this art professional knew it. he was hunting for the next untapped art place to colonize and domesticate.

the thing is. . .unlike ATL, new orleans cannot be tamed. that is what makes this southern, provincial development, a most precious locale. my friend john otte (artist & lover of new orleans) says, the swamp will always win. the tropicalistas put it another way. . .they saw their jungle culture accept european modernism, a global thirst in the 60s. their philosophical response was to become cannibals. the jungle and its people would eat everything (all in-coming new cultures) and survive as a unique hybrid and not an obedient colony culture. so. . .with great hope, I am watching new orleans and do intend to participate in it at this fertile time.

so there is a conundrum to the values of being local. in environmental terms it's a positive. grow your own vegetables, walk and bike around your daily routine, understand your local politics, beliefs, practices, history, architecture, weather patterns, etc. and when you focus on this, you start to understand the unique character of your place and how to thrive in it, how to build on it. we cannot forget the finite physical place that a single human being can touch for real. but this approach of localism is at odds with the idea and ambition of globalization. there's the term glocal. which is the hybrid of the two values. . .but there are still very strong pejoratives associated with being a "local."

it's essential at this time to look out there at the globe, try to be aware of powerful cultural monocultures via technological means, try to understand your relationship with it. this does not mean everyone must strictly align with dominant global culture without resistance, without pockets of strong localisms. . . perhaps in time we will resusitate that bad word "provincialism" and twist it into naughty gold.

there's a practical, economical aspect to localism / provincialism. to travel and be culturally global, takes a lot of resources (money, time & control). those who are economically challenged, cannot really be globally active, for they must stay in one place to work and take care of the mundanities. but such local people pretend non-the-less to be part of the global community by following the trends promoted to them via various media channels. will skepticism and resistence to this media-maintained monoculture always connote naivete, ignorance, ludditity. . .poverty?

THE GOLDEN AGE OF GARBAGE

as my husband and I walked through sweetwater park yesteday, we noticed a lot of garbage tangled in the rocks and winter branches along the water's edge. this is a divinely beautiful place. it's a bandaid we use to place over our craving for deeper woods. as a space, it offers a modicum of personal reflection to soul-weary city dwellers.

sweetwater park has running through it a giant urban river with rocks that look like petrified tree trunks. on days when the water's low, you can walk out across the broad width of it. but despite it's magnificence, it also carries a negative charge. friends warn us not to swim in the waters, for it's downstream from the big city and therefore extremely polluted. people get sick after touching it. there's a corpse of a giant cotton mill whose bricks were made by slaves. we passed "lynch st." on the way in. we've started to notice a population of gray herons hanging around the small rapids. they are immigrants from more southern places and have somehow acclimated to the colder waters. this environment makes for a rather bizarre mix of nature and human history, of healing in the midst of residue. visits here often become symbolic for us.

this time (2.22) garbage was the theme of our visit.

everyone I know is liquidating. Dimitri Orlov recommends that in seriously downturned economic times, it's better to have physical goods than cash stored away in banks. if the currency is devalued, you can always trade, sell or make good use of your things. . .in extreme cases, you can burn them for heat, or pick through them for nutrients. . .

high captialism created stockpiles of wasteful things, which are now being shaken down and freed up at unprecedented rates. All this junk now floods the independent markets for repurposing. As starving artist types we know what to do in such a golden river of junk and disorder. . .this is a golden age of sorts.

("starve:" it's only a relative term for us americans. . . it may mean no ipods, no cable tv, no new cars or designer clothes, meager travel. . .unrenovated living quarters, vintage computers and outdated operating systems, gardens in empty lots. . .we're make-do citizens but are quite artsy in how we fashion our junk and make use of our free time. . . and we're inclined to survive quite well these next couple of years.)

21st CENTURY FOLK ART

I seem to be using the term a lot lately:“21st century folk.” it becomes more and more useful as a category when talking about my artistic peers. (why is that?)

21st Century Folk Art is particularly prevalent out here in the cultural suburbs, and in the global south. . .this artwork is passed by or does not necessarily seek out international acclaim, sophistication, or expensive hi-tech prowess. . . it lays back a pace or two. it doesn't bother to play hardball with exclusive high art games. lt simply cannot or will not compete . It's a southern cousin to lowbrow, grand niece to brut art. more a voice from the dropped-out, consciously retarded zone, not necessarily poor, rural and black anymore. . .but indeed, still from the edges where the shamans live and cannot keep quiet.

it is persistently produced with independent verve and truely unique identity, made from artists outside the institutionalized networks of success. work like this is free to be spiritual, local, sloppy, dirty, derivative, inexpensive, irreverent, or naive, . it finds an audience among the uninitiated, underprivileged who are unaware , or disenfranchised with greater art trends. often charming, meaningful and also godawful! . . .it’s expressiveness can cut through despite the odds and the abandonment of its maker. In this genre of art, crudeness or rawness works to the artists' advantage, being so rarely valued elsewhere. of course, it's been exploited before (see lowbrow, see souls grown deep, see quilts of gee's bend ) I find this sort of art tantalizingly traditional. there will always be creatives who choose this path. it's a non-plused response to the intimidating multitudes of art being professionally produced and promoted in the leisurely 21st century.

This folk art is different from that which was coined in the 20th century. now it would be extremely rare to find artists totally unaware of the global fine art developments. these artists are self impowered and not waiting around for the next william arnett to peddle their work. In fact, 21st century folk artists are in defiance to global fine art monoculture! (fuck that.) You don't have to live in a country shack and see god in your fingers to be an outsider artist these days. but you might live in the suburbs, be over 35, hold a day job, live with your mother, make work in some already discovered style about already covered ideas.

atlanta still produces fine bumper crops of contemporary folk artists.

here are some local artists who continue to plug away at what I might consider 21st century folk--some practice it high and some low : anne cox, benjamin jones, eula ginsburg, don cooper, lisa kemp, allison rentz, r.land, eggtooth, woody cornwell, myself?, some graffiti artists? let me know who I've missed.

(the image at the top is from a parking lot performance that allison rentz and I did on Black friday in 2007.)

WILD HORSES

wild horses are a prevelent symbol found in advertising. pictured here is a clipping of a real estate logo. it's use is perfectly ironic . I painted out the words, to focus on the image separate from the commercial context.

wild horses are a world-wide symbol for freedom and thrusting energy. . .only when captured by humans, do they turn into a conquering/war-like picture. harness-less, wild horses are a symbol very much being hoarded by america. cowboys, open plains, freely roaming animals. The east has dragons. . .and the west has horses (I think we have won temporary ownership of "horses" as our symbol over the previous owners, the monguls-ancient wild horse men from central china/russian/persia. they owned it for a good while).

I am in love with this symbol--wild horses. . .and I am not alone. . .as we gentrify our contemporary existence, tear the wildernesses from our reality and banish them to the past, we mythologize the wild things and freeze them in imagery for all time. . .it's like taking a graphic picture of something that has disappeared--not on an individual basis, but on a larger cultural scale. when things make their transition from historical stories based in reality to full-blown myth, they become exaggerated, larger than life images. I imagine there will be billboards on the moon with pictures of wild horses on them. . .that's how much we love the image ( and not the reality of) wild horses.

HORSES N' RAINBOWS

craig dongoski, a favorite professor & brilliant mad man once said: as symbols, rainbows, butterflies and flowers are practically incorruptible. and I agree.

I would add a few more to that. . .hummingbirds and wild horses are some of my favorite symbols . . .right up there with diamonds : )

why do these images conjur up wonderment in our human hearts? I think it's their temporary unsustainable natures. such incredible beauty and swift powerful energy can only burst into this world for fitful moments. . .and cannot stay very long. as far as the smaller things. . .the flowers and the butterflies. . .their lives are short and sweet. but the memory of their presence stay with us forever. . .they remind us of that part of earth's magic reality.

IMMIGRANTS

Here is a working woman from the 1980s. . .her shiny desk is oddly void. a non-digital clock sits on the wall (something leftover from the factory, perhaps). there's no computer, no ipod, no video phone. . .she operates with a landline, a rolodex, a can of pens and real paper with actual text printed on it. . .perhaps only the coffee is a consistency with the work place of now. . .

I have a bit of a fetish for images of working women this is a favorite clipping of mine. she seems so independent, so ingrained in her professionalism. . .the family photos loom guiltily behind.

this reminds me of a strange piece of podcast I heard just the other day. . . this report called those born into the web world "native." those who remember life before the web are "immigrants." putting those of a certain age and socio-economic rank on the outside of our shared homeland. I wonder. . .did they call those who lived before television immigrants? I think it is foolish not to honor those who bore precious witness to the transition of reality with the web, and also those still just discovering it. . .to call them immigrants is a strange dis. . . but this term may not stick. it could be the insecurity of the reporters, themselves immigrants by this definition, their own uneasiness with this new place revealed. . .

(yet another example of the endless reportage on our new culture, always accompanied with clever words. . .there's something about the year 9 of any decade. . .it's the year our identity kicks in. this year, it's hitting us how 15 years with the internet has altered our lives. publications are filled with pop culture anthropologists joining in the awakening.)

"MEATSPACE"

I ran across it today. . .the word "meatspace." I thought it might be a crudely titled online network for desperate singles . . .but on the contrary. it's a cyber-nerd term for good old fashioned physical reality.

such a derogatory reference. is it a dangerous sign. . .that those people who prefer online reality are falling out of love with the physical earth? or on the contrary. . .does this foretell a near future of deep meatspace-- abandoned by mainstream human activity--and therefore becoming a valulable refuge for robust formations of consciously disconnected, earth-lovin' subcultures? hard to know.

I read just the other day, that jungles are taking back countryside in lots of third world places. . .because of a recent migration pattern to urban centers. and some developers are seeing it as evidence that wilderness conservation is no longer needed. . .curious propaganda, indeed.

pictured here is another good sign . . . I found this one deep in the countryside of northern new mexico (2008), one of my favorite physical places on earth. "hilarious that it says, back by popular demand" because it doesn't seem there is a human population living here at all. . .or perhaps I am mistaken.

BELLS OF DESIGN

here's a clipping of ford's nucleon model. pretty cool design. would make a great maglev (magnetic levitation) road jet.

some times I wish cars would disappear! think of all the things we could do with highways and roads if they weren't all clogged up with individual cars.

mitchell joachim wants to design cars that are less machine, more facebook on wheels. (ugh!) . . .his critique of the word sustainability is interesting. he says the idea of efficiency means less bad. . .is not positive or evocative enough a buzzword for people to buy into . . .I'm not sure I agree. we may not buy into sustainability as much as have no other choice but to adhere to it. . . .joachim's bling! is showing through. . .but then again who wants a future that is balanced and bland, without the attractive bells of design. . .?

PETS

. . . in the first world, we cater to our pets' needs as if they are our children. we buy health insurance for them, we fret over their comfort, tote them around, buy them running water fountains, toys & treats, dress them in baby clothes and kerchiefs. . .just today, I heard over the radio: "did you know that today is national pet dental care day ? " . . .the industry does indeed play on our lonliness, our lack of touch, our distance from the real wilderness, our fear of death, our fear of old age all soothed by the wrinkle-less, speechless, domestic animals. . .as long as they're in good health.

the thing is. . .most pet's have significantly shorter lifespans than us. . .we can be sure that we will encournter death, sickness and old age with them before actually encountering it in the humans that are closest to us.

in light of this. . .it is no surprise that our first domestic robots will be all kinds of designer pets. . .that live as long as we do. . .they just need to get the fur right. . .and it will be a hit.

BILLBOARDS

billboards are our most common form of public art. and yet advertising hoards up all the billboard space for the purpose of selling things. its ironic how intolerant people are of public art (both official and unofficial kinds). . .yet the public seems completely ok with billboards everywhere.

my friend evan calls them floating walls. (when you endeavor to build one, you must calculate the wind's force on it) . .a good way to think of them.

in some earlier comments I was asked what kind of billboard I would make, if I had the chance. . .well I did have the chance, recently thanks to louis corrigan. I built a small billboard (12'x12') up on my house . . .and so far my neighbors have tolerated it. . .in fact many say they enjoy seeing it. but I was careful, not to make an advertizement. I made a promise to never put any words on it. instead I put a carefully chosen found image. . . .it's quite ambiguous, but still political.

but I do think the best billboards are the old ones, empty or in a state of disarray. before long they will all be video screens, flashing and making noise. . .and these will be relics.

pictured here is a text suggestion from reader, adam bruneau: he thought a billboard should say, "don't buy anything."

ANOTHER GOOD SIGN

EMPTY SIGNAGE. . .

I've been engaged in an interesting online discussion among empty sign enthusiasts. . .we've been theorizing about their ubiquity and their deeper meanings. . . .

(pictured here is an old piece of art that DANIEL OSBORNE gave me. . .I glued it into my notebook (2006?) and added a random caption).

here are some links and ideas:

-DELETE art project, suggested by HERMANN ZSCHIEGNER
-architect TIM NICHOLS' collection of empty sign photos

-HIROSHI SUGIMOTO's theatre photos
-ED RUSCHA!


A FEW IDEAS ABOUT EMPTY SIGNS:

-why we do love these empty signs so much? Why does the absence of information have such an appeal?
Maybe because the empty billboard is a sign reduced to a mere signifier, pointing only to its own existence. A classic ready-made. And our "avantgarde trained minds" really respond to that. Can we ever overcome Duchamp? Should we? (hz)

-empty signage indeed appeals to our inner duchampian aesthetics, but it may also appeal to our secret desire for emptiness/ moments of visual rest in our urban/suburban world, smothered in advertising. (kt)

-those empty signs harken to our endtime fantasies. . .evidence that the machine is falling apart. . . the floating walls are left unmanned. (kt)

-there's also that utopian staple (for some anyway): a symbolic tabula rasa --the iconic empty billboard. a blank space at 48' wide. . .the ultimate chance to start the message over. (kt)

BACKING OFF THE SHORES

Oceans are like airwaves. . .both are incredible resources for everyone to enjoy and respect.

I fantasize about a time when storms, erosion and pointless reconstruction of beachfront property have resulted in a backing off from the shores. . .perhaps there might one day be global beach development policies. . .in most cases builders would be required to avoid all land a 1/2 mile from every shore or at least be restricted to minimal, temporary or eco-minded builds. these beach areas could become precious commercial free wetland/dune zones both private & public. . . they could buffer inland coastal developments from the realities of nature--current 21st century weather instability. existing constructions would be allowed to just lay as deserted corpses, disappearing in the sun and salt.

can you imagine how incredible florida would be if everyone had to walk through the dunes, or the swamps to get to the shore? some areas would have incredible elevated walkways, and of course some plalces would need to provide innovative access for handicapped and the obese (maybe they could ride in eco-airships out to the water. . .)



-kt