Tuesday, July 29, 2014
Saturday, July 26, 2014
Thursday, July 24, 2014
I didn't put those white flags on the Brooklyn Bridge. But if I had, this is how I would've done it. Buy two 11'X 20' American flags. Place flags in two large plastic garbage cans. Add 5 gals of bleach to each can. After one hour remove from can and hang dry. If fabric has not completely turned white, repeat process. With another person, fold flag properly into tight triangle and place in backpack. Buy 6 large disposable food baking pans, placing these also in a large backpack . Get ahold of a couple of trusted friends. Drive to Manhattan at 1:00 am. Park on Manhattan side of bridge.
Wearing camo clothing and facemasks, climb bridge cat walks leading to flags. Wearing safety harness, clip to cable and scale locked gate. Once lights are accessed, cover with pans and lower bridge flags. Fold bridge flags and put in backpacks, replacing with bleached flags, raising them in place. Scatter empty bleach bottles and get the hell out of there.
The Trading Post has those big pans.
Wednesday, July 23, 2014
Tuesday, July 22, 2014
Monday, July 21, 2014
Sunday, July 20, 2014
Labels: pHOTO:mARIANA rOTHEN
ART AUCTION FOR THE CHARITY FOR CHILDREN WHO ARE DYING TOO SOON
The rich are a funny bunch. If they aren't squandering their money on houses and cars and boats and other crap to make themselves feel alive, they are trying to get free stuff donated to them so they can auction it off to benefit the charity of their choice. In return for this they get their names and pictures in the society pages of newspaper and magazines, that cater to other rich people. Hopefully in the process said charity is benefited by more exposure to its cause and some well deserved cash. Usually famous artists are asked to donate a piece. The rich artist in turn takes a tax break on the donation, a rich collector buys the piece (also taking a tax break) and the charity receives the funds. Because they are a 501c-3 they do not pay taxes. Where the money goes after this is anyone's guess. Once in a great while a poor artist, like myself, is asked to pony up for the cause.
After a week of vague emails from a woman who happens to be a raw juice mogul/art consultant, about a very "exciting" project, I got a call to explain just what she had been referring to. A rich guy collector was distributing "boxes" to various artists, actors, and others to decorate. I was not as "excited" as she was by this project. This is right up there with the Woodridge peace signs that Bronco Billy routered out of plywood, in order to be decorated and drum up some artistic community spirit here in the hood. Decorating someone else's object is right up there with digging my eyes out with a dull spoon. "It's for a great cause." the woman said, naming the charity I had never heard of and finishing the pitch with "They are all dying." I respectfully declined the box and we left it loose as to a donation. But then I reconsidered. I'm a easy touch for kids who are dying too soon. Here is my donation to be auctioned off at a later date. I hope it brings a high price.
1. Bury the box in a spot of your choosing.
2. After covering the box with dirt, photograph the spot.
3. Print photo 42 inches high and hang next to instructions.
Saturday, July 19, 2014
When I ran a real gallery, in the 80's, I took 50% of anything I sold. It was my way of starting a hedge fund. If I couldn't sell my work, I would hedge my bet by representing other artist's work. I handled artists like Robin Winters and Karen Finley and Tony Oursler, all individuals who either had a market, or would go on to have one. The problem was, I wasn't much of a salesman. I could display and present their work in a great context, and maybe even garner them some press, but when it came to closing the deal and actually getting check in hand....I fell flat. It's a deficiency, like lack of testosterone. I have no sales gene. Sales were so few and far between, I was forced to close. Fast forward 30 years.
MO David North revisited this hedge fund approach. Without the on site, retail, aspect of being in an established gallery district, like the East Village, I opted for a low impact "by appt only" approach, on my porch in the Catskills. Shewho sold a couple of Kerns and Rothens to the bass player from U2 and that was about it. No one made an appointment. So, once again I closed the gallery and turned it into my studio. This led me to turn the church, my lawn and the shul also into studio space. Chuck may be right. Give me an empty space and I'll fill it to pathological proportions. My horror vacui was in full effect.
And this brings us to today's proposal. What I need is a syndicate of investors. Those readers who aren't from around here will be surprised to find out just how much money surrounds me. The Porsches and Ferraris are not rare. But, as usual, the money may be there, but the willingness to spend it on art is not. There are no Peter Brants or de Menils bringing in the super models and feathering even a fledgling collection. The money in the neighborhood does not get spent on art. OK. Nobody wants to shove work where it's not wanted nor appreciated. But what if one could invest in specific art projects?
The big steel $ORRY on my front lawn is a perfect example of an investment.
West coast artist and philanthropist TR paid for the fabrication of the piece. In return for this I gave him a 15% stake in the work. I know what you're thinking. 15% of nothing is nothing. Granted. But this won't always be the case, if I have anything to say about it. If I can't sell my work, maybe I can stop the hemorrhaging of my own money in making and displaying it. I've already pitched one idea to a well heeled local, and have yet to hear back. It's simple: pay for fabrication, and display the work on your property. When it sells you get your initial investment back and 15% of the sales price. I won't always be so obscure and worthless. Now is the time to get in on the ground floor. Lines are open.
Friday, July 18, 2014
Labels: pHOTO:r. KERN
IT'S A SCARY WORLD
Two days after Teehoo flew out of Amsterdam, on her way home, a Malaysia Airlines flight on its way to Kuala Lumpur, was shot out the sky over Eastern Ukraine. The flight originated in Amsterdam. 298 individuals were immediately killed. Both sides are blaming each other in Ukraine. These weapons are manned by 18 year old knuckleheads, both Russian and Ukrainian. It's not surprising that some soldier sees a contrail and turns the turret skyward and pulls the trigger. I've yet to hear any reporter ask an official whether or not it is standard operating policy for commercial airlines to fly over war zones? I'm just glad Teehoo is on terra firma. She's not leaving the ground until she finishes college, if I have anything to say about it. Of course I have nothing to say about it
On another front, after weeks of phone calls, "roof knocks" with dummy bombs, and full out air assault, Israel has begun another ground invasion of Gaza. In one of the saddest exercises in Kafkaesque futility, the JDF air force, drops fliers all over Gaza City telling people to leave. They drop them in the North, South and East. To the west is the sea. Gaza is fenced in by the Israeli occupiers. The only way they have of escape is through the tunnels, which Israel is targeting. Leave? How? Where? My "Hebros" here on the mountain will point towards Hamas' constant rocket fire as an excuse for all this. If you were penned in, by a foreign government, unable even to become refugees, wouldn't you be throwing everything you could at them? Fish in a barrel would have a better chance.
I don't pretend to be an expert on any of this. Like most Americans, except for a very few "left" media outlets, like Democracy Now, I get the Israeli/American party line. Any deviation from this is rewarded by a transfer. Case in point, a NBC news reporter who witnessed 4 Palestinian kids, he was playing soccer with a hour earlier, killed by Israeli forces, was immediately taken off the air. The lopsided element of this "conflict", and its reporting, reminds me of the Indian wars of the 1890s. Bows and arrows don't do much against Gatling guns. History's a bitch. The one Israeli casualty in the new ground war in Gaza was attributed to "friendly fire". Almost 300 killed in Gaza. And this is just a 24 hour hour news cycle- Russians vs. Ukraine, Israel vs. Gaza. A squirrel just dropped an acorn on my roof and simultaneously the phone rang. I damn near jumped out of my skin. JESUS CHRIST! No wonder I never leave the mountain.
Monday, July 14, 2014
Friday, July 11, 2014
Trolling the internet in search of Japanese girls puking in each others mouths, while hung from the ceiling? Can't sleep and need to gas the rabbit, while a couple of Amazonian beauties explore each other's nether regions? Need a matinee break at the office with your favorite pantless yoga scene? Well why not rub one out while making the world a better place? Sure, you can bring your own bag to the supermarket, recycle all those beer bottles, turn off a few lights and put some air in your tires, but imagine if every time you jerked-off a few cents went to saving the rain forest? Talk about changing the world! Your talking hundreds of thousands of dollars.....just in this neighborhood alone.
FUCK FOR FORESTS is a group founded in Norway, and now operating out of Berlin, that offers videos and photos of sexually explicit material for a membership fee. If the hype is on the level, a good part of the fee goes to funding the group's effort to save endangered tracts of land. So called "Eco-porn" not only puts your dick where her mouth is, it grabs some folding cash in the process. The internet was built by porn moguls who realized all anyone wanted was a 3-6 min. "scene" of hardcore action, then it was back to spread sheets and inter-office memos. The applications are endless: FUCK FOR PEACE, FUCK FOR FOOD, FUCK FOR THE CHILDREN........maybe there are limits.
I, for one, applaud this spin on making the world a better place. Admittedly it may be a scam. Maybe it's just a way of not paying taxes, and these guys are laughing all the way to their mansions built from rain forest timber. But maybe not. This could be legit. I say take it one step further. What if we harnessed the energy it took to masturbate? There must be some MIT student out there that could come up with a device that could be adopted for male or female use. I know from personal experience a lot of heat and friction can be the by product of even a short session at FFF. What if we could some how capture that energy and use it to, lets say, power your computer? Those of you who need a little more time could be doing the laundry and running the TV set, all for free. Off the grid, save the whales, feed the poor, polish the motor home, onanistic philanthropy. My credit card # is......
Thursday, July 10, 2014
Wednesday, July 9, 2014
It all started a couple of weeks ago, when Shewho and I were invited to attend an evening's worth of cerebral infotainment at our friends' cult over across the river. On the bill were three old friends: Jacabor Kaster, Mark McCloud and Chuck McC. The subject of the evening's lectures by this bunch of esteemed elders was art and drugs. Our hosts were Alex and Alyson Grey, two of my favorite wacky, mind expanding proselytizers of the "new" age. We all go way back. So we caught up, had a bite and then settled into our folding chairs, for the evening's enlightenment. It kinda felt like the 21st century version of a 19th century salon......only without the morphine and absinthe.
I admit it, except for hunting, I have a short attention span. Half way through Alex's introduction I was glazing over. Then he delved into his and Alyson's work and Albert Hoffman, and Terrence Mckenna, and etc. and etc. Let me reiterate I love these people, but they are all nuts. McCloud showed bad images of blotter acid with bed music and never took the mic. It wasn't too long. I give it a C. Then came Jacabor. He started with an illegible image of a hand drawn map, of some sort, for making "psychedelic art". An hour later he had yet to move on to the second slide. When asked by the host if he had more slides? He replied "Sure. I have plenty more. How we doing on time?" I could only assume the full lecture would take a week. He was Fidel Castro wrapped in Andy Kauffman- without the humor. I give it a E for endurance. Finally it was time for Chuck. He was professional, concise, engaging and quite informative. A Dash Snow piece sporting a line of coke around a record album called EAT SHIT AND DIE was my fav. I really want to criticize him but can't. He gets a B plus. If he had killed Jacabor and Mark he'd have gotten an A.
I came home to a message from Teddy R who lives in Laguna Beach, Ca. Four days later TR was in my living room, having driven across the country listening to whale music. Teddy is famous for welding brightly colored rocket ship bombs on sign posts all over Manhattan in the 1980's. If he tried it today he'd be shot. I hadn't seen him in a while. I think he needed a break from the wife and kids. In less than a week we smoked a shit load of pot, spread what was left of Jerry William's ashes, saw fireworks, he got sick, and then got well, helped me fabricate (and paid for) SORRY- cut out of 1/4 in. steel........... and never stopped talking.
On his last day here, he accidentally spilled a glass of ice tea into Chuck's computer, frying the fucker. Cossacks raping the wife and kid would've been preferable in Chuck's eyes. Poor Teddy was crushed, of course offering to help replace the beast. But Chuck was so distraught he couldn't eat, nor smoke, nor drink. He crawled up in a fetal position on my couch, only after informing me that I had Horror vacui- the fear of open spaces. I erected GABRIEL today. I fear no space. Safe travels Mr. R.
Tuesday, July 8, 2014
Sunday, July 6, 2014
ONE LINE AND TWO FLASHLIGHTS
Labels: By Ted Rosenthal
Wednesday, July 2, 2014
WSSP- Flooding Satan's Shack
Labels: photo:Samm Kunce