OCTOBERFEST ALL SAINTS HARVEST CHURCH

It's been a month since the mortgage burning church and time to schedule another service. The great success of the Memorial weekend church sets the bar very high for the next one, but I'm confident in this new, younger, more energetic and better looking congregation. It's obvious I can't depend on the elders anymore. And really, I wouldn't have it any other way. It was my dream to be able to amalgamate the congregation with family, local hillbillys and fresh faces gathered from an ever changing global tribe. The mortgage burning church was evidence that this was not only possible but necessary to rejuvenate an evolving theology for the 21st century.

Now the task becomes how do we build on this without becoming unwieldy, bloated with press or buzz? This is my job. And if I do say so I am an expert at keeping things obscure and out of the public eye. Shewho video taped the May service and the document is so good, so magical, catching all the action, that I issued an edict that it cannot be seen. Right now it is secured in the deepest, darkest recesses of Shewho's purse that I am confident it will never see the light of day. I gave her my laptop over a year ago to be fixed. That was the last I ever saw of that. I rest my case. Anyone seeing how much fun church can be will be banging at my door with dollar and match in hand. Yes, all are welcome but I want to keep a lid on it. Fame would cripple the church. Just look what happened to the Christians.

With this all said I want to announce the next service. It will be scheduled for an early October Sunday @ 2pm. I can't be more specific until I check with the Band of All Faiths and The Solid Green Dancers. Bow season opens on the 15th so it will be before that. The theme will be Satan, beer, life, death and pumpkins. The weather is unpredictable that time of year and the church may be chilly so bring a sweater. Start making your costume. Bring a pie or a big bag of eye medicine and a dollar to burn. Here we go again!

MARIANNA ROTHEN

ART SUPPLIES

Turkey season is over. The LGM Mortgage Burning Church has passed. WSSP and WSSP II are in habitable shape and I'm on hold as an artist. Where to next? To this day, when I tell someone I'm an artist, inevitably someone will ask what kind of art I do? It doesn't matter if this person is completely naive as to what an artist may do in the 21st Century or hip to everyone from Duchamp to Damien Hirst. (I admit to my own cocoon of ignorance as to the flavor of the month recently). Usually I just say "conceptual" and leave it at that. But even that term is old fashioned and falls short. I hate "performance artist". "Contextual" never really took. Post- Modern deconstructivist carpenter? Fuck if I know. Then I thought, it's not really the kind of artist that I am that is important. Rather, it is my choice of art supplies that dictates my work. Every new piece requires I choose new materials. I guess you'd call me a "Materialist".

A few cases in point: My mature work starts way back in 1977 outside the San Francisco Art Institute School Store. The place was filled with paint, canvas, paper, brushes, etc.- everything one would need to make art. I had $600 of credit. Instead of buying stuff, I stood in front of the store day after day, convincing painters to put their purchases on my account, taking their cash in return, until all $600 was retrieved. Over my career I've used money, death, religion, guns, blood, rock and roll and real estate as art supplies. It's a short blog, so lets just pick real estate.

In 1995 I purchased an old house and church in Glen Wild, NY. I lived in the house and worked on both the church and house with the goal of establishing a functioning house of worship. I'd already (conceptually) formed the Church of the Little Green Man on the LES, but this would ground it in a sense of place. That's why it's called "real" estate. It exists in one specific space. Then I bought a little piece of woods in the midst of existing cemeteries, in order to establish the LGM cemetery. I adopted two stretches of road and purchased a one room school house. In the school house I formed the Old School for Social Sculpture and eventually sold it at a nice profit. Did it sell as art? No.

With the money I made on the Old School I bought a wreck of a house in White Sulphur Springs. This became WSSP (White Sulphur Springs Project). After working on it for over a year I included this piece in a show I did @ Marianna's Apartment. I sold WSSP as art. WSSP II was purchased by friends and the renovation process became the art. Once again I am confronted with the difficulty in contextualizing this "as art" and not just real estate. It is a constant problem.

So now, with a track record that spans 15 years of working with real estate as art supply, I went to the county auction yesterday with the purpose of buying another plot of land in order to do a new work. This piece measures 28'X62' and sits right on the Neversink River. I was the high bid at $300. Like my old friend and mentor the late David Ireland I use signage to anchor these pieces in space. Today I'm going out to my sign maker Craig Stewart in Callicoon to order a sign for my new piece of property on Holiday Mountain Rd. in Bridgeville, NY. It will say: CHURCH OF THE LITTLE GREEN MAN PUBLIC BAPTISM ACCESS- enter at your own risk. Come and take a dip in a little piece of art.

LGM BIKINI CAR WASH

OLD SCHOOL BAR

TOO WHITE AND NOT GAY ENOUGH

This is the criticism I heard regarding Sunday's mortgage burning Church of the Little Green Man. I agree. But, what you gonna do? I hold no sway over that, except to extend the welcoming hand to the community of gay and lesbian people of color, who want to burn dollars and sing off putting lyrics to traditional hymn melodies- and just happen to read this blog. From my perspective it was a complete success. From Saturday's Bikini Car Wash starring GNJohn, Mariana Louise, Wood nymph Hollie Witchey and Frauline Urs, and One Acre Plot down on Majestic Rd. to Sunday's service, barbeque and disco, this Memorial Weekend was a complete success.

But what was going on behind the scenes? Let me pull back the curtain. WE LOOK FOR SIGNS AND WE FIND THEM. It started with the bees out at WSSPII. All the sudden they appeared up in the rafters. I called Pestech. They told me the contract didn't include honey bees. Of course. Then I called my bee people. Brett Budde and I are going to tackle it on Thurs. Bring your bee suit Brett. Next came the flood. In the middle of slicing up some of the most delicious, perfectly cooked backstrap venison, doling it out to my congregants, I was informed that my bathroom and adjoining closet had 3 inches of water covering the floor. Someone had turned on the old barber shop shampoo nozzle and let it blast unabated against my hanging bathrobe. Who would do such a thing? You can't blame the kids. The kids aren't tall enough. Drunk? No one seemed drunk enough. Shewho says to let it go. It's a fucking mystery. OK, ok I'll let it go.

El Prof made me a giant mohito and I chilled, eventually. Pestilence, flood.....what's next, fire? So now the well was dry, dishes were dirty, the toilet wasn't working and it was getting time for the disco. It was then that one of the church missionaries, who had been doing some field work in Columbia pulled me aside and offered to share some medicine he had brought back with him. What kind of minister would I be to refuse? This is what brought me to my knees. "If I die......" I kept repeating, not quite able to finish the thought. Finally, with the missionary's help i made it to the edge of the tub. Phew! I never thought I'd say this but maybe Nancy Reagan was right. Next time- no thank you. That's why I looked like i was having so much fun dancing.

Wolf Lake on Monday was a dream. We all basked in the afterglow of a service well attended and cathartic. The Band of All Faiths and The Solid Green Dancers were incredible. Urs and Slick on the wheels of steel. ML and HW a beautiful, gracious and HOT presence. My family. My MOM! Shewho working her ass off and taking my shit. Vic and Georgia. Vicky Little Bird all the way from a Montana bear attack. Isaac and Cat, the new Little Cardinal Tristan "Ace". So many good looking people. So much love. So to all the old timers, first timers, interns, and little devils who made this church weekend such fun, thank you. You all fucked up my turkey season. But I forgive you.