Thursday, June 16, 2005

Relevant and lighthearted theme du jour/blogposte:
Losing one's way, thematically/artistically/orientationally/intentionally.
Delivered a gig to Hyatt "Regency" in downtown Middling City, after basically missing correct left and heading into setup for the MC's weekly summertime Thursday in the Square and got giant pangs for shooting music and seeing the regulars. That's one way to lose one's way.
Then in the lobby I am waiting for appointment and am looking up at the tinted mirrors and eavesdropping like mad when I essentially walk into NYS Attorney General (no bars, no stars) Eliot Spitzer, who I've photographed before - a sharpie to be sure. That would be the orientational losing of way.
Then I am waiting for appointee and am outside her office and meander over to look at the samples of wedding cakes - different frosting options, before amusing myself by reading the MC News.
Then mere moments ago I open up mail to discover a sizable bill from the day You may recall when Yours Truly was completely and hopelessly LOST on the 407ETR up to the north until aided by a nice and large cop in a sedan - You know, the one who drew directions by drawing a rather long line with the number 407 underneath. The Gee, merci moment of that moment. So the bill for the lost condition of me that day - exiting, re-entering, heading ouest/west then est/east, exiting and re-entering (repeat a few times) totals $62.86. Not even kidding one tiny bit. $62.86. You can bet your OPP that phonecalls will be made, heads will like totally roll up there in Maple Country. Moral of all: do not get lost. Do not lose a way. Any way.
As for the art direction that is another matter, for that You must read and re-read between lines both short, long, longest.

Longest Love.

Wednesday, June 15, 2005

Ace Heat Manager Yours Truly here sitting amongst all sorts of paraphernalia and dehumidifying regalia to enable working at optimum conditions - sort of like an electronic venti coffee du jour from Starbucks, if you will. As the dehumidifier fills up the papers lie more flat, the computers sigh a sigh of relief, as I do.
Completely lost my last blogpost into cyberwherever last night/this morning and not sure what the hell happened but it basically recapped my experience at Music is Art, Jon and Robbie's music and art and curiosity extravaganza. Wended my way from Deb's home to MIA through sunstung and fried-food-outfitted masses, noting the item of the year at Allentown Art Fest appeared to be a curious copper bowl atop a 4' stick with some sort of glass globe incorporated in the design. I didn't get what it was other than whimsy. Whimsy on a stick. Deb suggested people loved it because it was affordable. Suppose she is right, a far cry from the overpriced, sofa-sized work on view. Kennedy asked for an "art" report and I had very little to report from my short wend: I did proffer up some details about a very hairy and surly-faced man sitting on top of one of those director chairs with extended legs, apparently guarding a display of small watercolors of flowers. Floral whimsy, made by a hairy, angry man.
At MIA saw many of the rock and roll crowd, some from the photo world and paid for a ticket to watch what I anticipated greatly inside the sideshow tent. Nope, not The Enigma, who I've shot to date thrice at Jim Rose Circus Sideshow. Word on the street, alongside the tent, was Enigma's wife was there, Cat Woman, tattooed with a tabby cat pattern over her entire body. From what I saw she was perhaps tattooed over 90% of her plump self, sans boob tattoos. What a pair - puzzled and kittified.
I was there to see the suspension team Jon had told me about and waited impatiently in the hot shade to see a woman with cinched waist and long dreads and three-inch hooks in either shoulder blade pretend to be stabbed, be carabinered and lifted into the air but not before the faux jealous lover (murderer) danced with her à la Last Dance With MaryJane. Wondered nearly aloud - was this crime pretense really necessary. My Perfect answer. Absolutely not. She was pushed to and fro and about ten minutes later I thought Well, now I can say I saw a woman hanging from two 3-inch hooks in her self. Onwards.
Last night dined under the grape chandelier at Chef's with Allen, Kunji, Laura. Saucey high times and then onwards to sip on beers regarding my most favoured view of the grain elevators from the foot of Hamburg Street. My holiday card tree now covered in lush green leaves and tall green grasses blowing nearly horizontal in the Buffalo River breeze. Cops motored by slowly, not bothering to bother us with our open containers, our Yeah Yeah Yeahs emanating from the golden Forester.
Told Laura today had a brief thought of driving solo to Boston today for the 50 Foot Wave (Kristin Hersh) and Pixies gig there but the seats left sucked and really, I do have a shitload of work to get done like right now.

Now like Love.

Tuesday, June 14, 2005

So here I find myself once again blogging on the blazingly quick machine in the Apple/Geek store/h.q.
Here to aquire external hard drive (that'd be h.d., to the uninitiated) to make more more more digvids - each nanosecond burns up memory like mad. Last night spoke to Beth as she was working hard on her art for today's viewing and explication rite at Parsons School of Disorg. All of a sudden I heard a screeech, a bang, and then she said Oh, Deb's cat just knocked over my art, gotta GO. Felt sad for her, nothing worse than forces of nature working against the ol' creative process. In Canada that would be pro-sess.
Just found another slammin' pair of summer in the city sandals, accidentally, of course.
Described them to Kunji as one part functional, one part girlie - parfait for traipsing about in the Shiney Apple in search of art and high times.
Speaking of such, been in communications with several Shiney Applites to tell them my ETA. And, NB, this is one week after the so-called residency at school. Due to a communication snafu Yours Truly is not there, is working hardly in the Middling City making art, finishing up gigs, weeding, and the like.
Just got email from and replied to Peter Brøtzmann who orders me to stay in touch, which I will certainly do as he's a keeper of magnanimous proportions.
Just also dropped Kennedy at airport as he's off to the Shiney Apple to see PB et al during the VisionFest.
The nice Apple store boy just fetched me my new h.d. - a $400 model holding 500 oodles of pixels and other digital video molecules. A fresh new h.d. for fresh new work.
A fresh new summer, a fresh new pair of gardens, a fresh new semester, and then - and then - a fresh new Master of Fine Arts and Universe degree. Come hell, high water, Oban, and more.

High water love.

Sunday, June 12, 2005

Day of dual/duelling fests and heading shortly over to Jon's - the Music is Art affair, paralleled with an art show at Albright-Knocks that I saw yesterday that includes an overview of the work of Mark Freeland, Middling City bon vivant of sorts.
Had an art date with the niece yesterday and whisked her out of her suburban setting and headed to the aforementioned for meaningful meandering and lunch. During a break in lunch action we headed into the courtyard to climb on a fruity tree when Don Warfe appeared to not only tell us to get down but to wash our hands immediately as said tree was coated, apparently, in chems.
Meeting up with a few over in Fest 1 as long as the SPF holds out and thoughts keep involuntarily wavering over to the reality of Shiney Apple Reality heading my way in about a week.

SAR Love.