I’ve been a bad, bad, blogger. Have been meaning to post these camera phone pictures from the Buffalo Tom show at the Paradise in Boston last weekend for about a week now. Forgive me, but here they are.
The show was superb. Bill Janovitz will go down in my mind as one of the greatest and underrated rock and roll performers of my generation. As with every time I have ever seen him, he completely wrung himself out on the electric guitar and into the microphone— coaxing reverb from the amp and swinging his arm in windmill circles a la The Who. The band’s biggest downfall besides some bad timing and contract issues is that it has been virtually impossible to recreate the energy of their live performances on any recording. There is a jazz aspect to their performances— especially anything Janovitz gets near— that is melodic and rich with variety and playfulness. A great, great show.
For you diehard BT fans— their rendition of “Tangerine” this time was the best I have ever experienced live.
At the start of my journalism career one of my first assignments was a treatment on Bill Janovitz’s solo project “Crown Victoria” that I wrote for the now defunct website “SpinRecords.com” (the website seems to be maintained by Spin magazine now, but at the time it was an indie-music site for the promotion and marketing of smaller regional bands). I say all this as if I have a booming journalism career now… but it was fun to wax poetic on Janovitz and his amazing musical abilities. I am certainly biased being a fan of the “alternative music” family tree that is more Boston-based (ish) than Seattle. Think Dinosaur Jr., Buffalo Tom, Lemonheads, They Might Be Giants, Replacements (I know, MN but cut me some slack)…
Anyhow, long story short— these guys are on heavy rotation in 617 Midway right now. I am experimenting between listening to Three Easy Pieces (their new CD) on straight-up repeat and random repeat over and over again.
And another aside— Bill Janovitz and Crown Victoria at TT the Bear’s circa 1999 remains on my top-ten list of best live shows ever.
Someone posted some clips of the show at the Paradise on YouTube that are pretty good, check them out. Also, BT will be on Letterman this Friday night which should be kind of wonderful.
Moving on.
Last night I was working away on editing some photos on the computer when I heard a VERY loud knocking. Midway is home to all kinds of artists— wood sculptors, carpenters of sorts, people who make huge-scale frames for photos and paintings— so I didn’t think much of it. And then it continued.
My front door is metal, and this definitely sounded like fist— or hammer— on wood, but it was so persistent… BANG BANG BANG, that I finally got up from my chair to see if someone was at my door.
No dice.
It wasn’t until the walk back that I found the culprit. Pictured above, this enormous seagull was auditioning for STOMP on my skylight.
I bet when I mentioned “Seagulls” in the title of this post you thought I was talking about the affinity my hair has to imitate that of the 80’s band, “Flock of Seagulls.” While true, this was more a reference to the bird than a cultural reference.
I took a walk over the FPAC Gallery today and saw the “Image for Sale” show hung and ready to go. Even bumped into some people who were milling around the gallery and checking it out. Which was pretty fun to watch. I am more and more excited for the Opening Reception on Friday which is shaping up to be a great event.
I also found a reference to James Rosenquist today on my yahoo homepage and thought it was important to give him some additional airtime here on the studio blog.
The image above is from the show 'Art in America: Three Hundred Years of Innovation' which opened at the Pushkin Fine Arts Museum in Moscow today, and shows a piece of Rosenquist’s “The Swimmer in the Econo-mist” (from http://news.yahoo.com/photo/070723/482/62d05797bfd54ab4bb98b6c57ff102ae).
The painting is one of my favorites of all-time. And much of my references to Picasso’s Guernica in poetry or in art are actually references to this work which depicts a section of the Picasso piece (not pictured) in a way that fascinates me— seeing the history and prophecy of art over and over again through a contemporary filter.
I was lucky enough to see it in person twice at the MASS MOCA and it has had an enormous impact on me and my work. As discussed in earlier posts, Rosenquist’s approach and influence— in color selection, in handling of paint, and in themes— is somewhat always there in my work. I can remember being so moved by seeing his brushstrokes up close and noticing how loose and varied they were in comparison to the vivid imagery of the paintings as a whole.
Take a look on AP and you will likely find a photo of Dennis Hopper in attendance at the new Moscow exhibition. Of course, I always think of “grass” Hopper when I see him— but have seen interviews with him and him discussing his personal collection which is amazing.
The whole timing of the picture even had me looking through my old notes and poems for the actual quote by Rosenquist on using black in a painting. See it below in a poem written during a series of mine titled “100 Airplane Rides.” As most of you know, I think flying it crazy-time so this series deals a lot with different spatial relationships— the most important being that of the airplane and the ground.
Last but not least, I found this final photo and caption on Reuters news service today. Seemed so strange how well it fit into the Model Consumer project and my Mirror/Image series.
The caption is as follows:
“Table-dancer Emma models lingerie in a changing room, where women can check their outfits under different lighting conditions, in a new Beate Uhse shop in Munich's city center, July 19, 2007 (Michaela Rehle/Reuters).”
Is this life imitating art? Art imitating life? Whatever it is— the timing couldn’t be more interesting on the verge of the Image for Sale opening and the new Model Consumer series. Keep those contest entries coming in— the series is going to be great.
And here is the poem as promised:
The show was superb. Bill Janovitz will go down in my mind as one of the greatest and underrated rock and roll performers of my generation. As with every time I have ever seen him, he completely wrung himself out on the electric guitar and into the microphone— coaxing reverb from the amp and swinging his arm in windmill circles a la The Who. The band’s biggest downfall besides some bad timing and contract issues is that it has been virtually impossible to recreate the energy of their live performances on any recording. There is a jazz aspect to their performances— especially anything Janovitz gets near— that is melodic and rich with variety and playfulness. A great, great show.
For you diehard BT fans— their rendition of “Tangerine” this time was the best I have ever experienced live.
At the start of my journalism career one of my first assignments was a treatment on Bill Janovitz’s solo project “Crown Victoria” that I wrote for the now defunct website “SpinRecords.com” (the website seems to be maintained by Spin magazine now, but at the time it was an indie-music site for the promotion and marketing of smaller regional bands). I say all this as if I have a booming journalism career now… but it was fun to wax poetic on Janovitz and his amazing musical abilities. I am certainly biased being a fan of the “alternative music” family tree that is more Boston-based (ish) than Seattle. Think Dinosaur Jr., Buffalo Tom, Lemonheads, They Might Be Giants, Replacements (I know, MN but cut me some slack)…
Anyhow, long story short— these guys are on heavy rotation in 617 Midway right now. I am experimenting between listening to Three Easy Pieces (their new CD) on straight-up repeat and random repeat over and over again.
And another aside— Bill Janovitz and Crown Victoria at TT the Bear’s circa 1999 remains on my top-ten list of best live shows ever.
Someone posted some clips of the show at the Paradise on YouTube that are pretty good, check them out. Also, BT will be on Letterman this Friday night which should be kind of wonderful.
Moving on.
Last night I was working away on editing some photos on the computer when I heard a VERY loud knocking. Midway is home to all kinds of artists— wood sculptors, carpenters of sorts, people who make huge-scale frames for photos and paintings— so I didn’t think much of it. And then it continued.
My front door is metal, and this definitely sounded like fist— or hammer— on wood, but it was so persistent… BANG BANG BANG, that I finally got up from my chair to see if someone was at my door.
No dice.
It wasn’t until the walk back that I found the culprit. Pictured above, this enormous seagull was auditioning for STOMP on my skylight.
I bet when I mentioned “Seagulls” in the title of this post you thought I was talking about the affinity my hair has to imitate that of the 80’s band, “Flock of Seagulls.” While true, this was more a reference to the bird than a cultural reference.
I took a walk over the FPAC Gallery today and saw the “Image for Sale” show hung and ready to go. Even bumped into some people who were milling around the gallery and checking it out. Which was pretty fun to watch. I am more and more excited for the Opening Reception on Friday which is shaping up to be a great event.
I also found a reference to James Rosenquist today on my yahoo homepage and thought it was important to give him some additional airtime here on the studio blog.
The image above is from the show 'Art in America: Three Hundred Years of Innovation' which opened at the Pushkin Fine Arts Museum in Moscow today, and shows a piece of Rosenquist’s “The Swimmer in the Econo-mist” (from http://news.yahoo.com/photo/070723/482/62d05797bfd54ab4bb98b6c57ff102ae).
The painting is one of my favorites of all-time. And much of my references to Picasso’s Guernica in poetry or in art are actually references to this work which depicts a section of the Picasso piece (not pictured) in a way that fascinates me— seeing the history and prophecy of art over and over again through a contemporary filter.
I was lucky enough to see it in person twice at the MASS MOCA and it has had an enormous impact on me and my work. As discussed in earlier posts, Rosenquist’s approach and influence— in color selection, in handling of paint, and in themes— is somewhat always there in my work. I can remember being so moved by seeing his brushstrokes up close and noticing how loose and varied they were in comparison to the vivid imagery of the paintings as a whole.
Take a look on AP and you will likely find a photo of Dennis Hopper in attendance at the new Moscow exhibition. Of course, I always think of “grass” Hopper when I see him— but have seen interviews with him and him discussing his personal collection which is amazing.
The whole timing of the picture even had me looking through my old notes and poems for the actual quote by Rosenquist on using black in a painting. See it below in a poem written during a series of mine titled “100 Airplane Rides.” As most of you know, I think flying it crazy-time so this series deals a lot with different spatial relationships— the most important being that of the airplane and the ground.
Last but not least, I found this final photo and caption on Reuters news service today. Seemed so strange how well it fit into the Model Consumer project and my Mirror/Image series.
The caption is as follows:
“Table-dancer Emma models lingerie in a changing room, where women can check their outfits under different lighting conditions, in a new Beate Uhse shop in Munich's city center, July 19, 2007 (Michaela Rehle/Reuters).”
Is this life imitating art? Art imitating life? Whatever it is— the timing couldn’t be more interesting on the verge of the Image for Sale opening and the new Model Consumer series. Keep those contest entries coming in— the series is going to be great.
And here is the poem as promised:
SELF-PORTRAIT WITH HYDROGEN BOMB
Delta Airlines Flight 565 from Boston to Salt Lake City
“What’s more powerful? A hydrogen bomb explosion or the label of a soap box…”
—James Rosenquist, Art in America, February, 2004
I’m reading February’s Art in America— an article on Rosenquist—
when I realize that working horizontally suggests a narrative; vertically
and every picture becomes a self-portrait, or a mirror. The airplane
is taxiing, weaving a story with the sunrise and the asphalt. The airplane
is painting a portrait with the sky. Everyone is terrified of hanging
from some monarch’s bedroom wall— and I’m looking for Picasso’s
big, black eyes in the sunburst rips on Rosenquist’s canvas;
I’m looking for him, as the city stories shrink
between the leaving, and the cold sky turning black.
“You never use pure black paint— you add a lot of white to it,
because of the light,” Rosenquist’s words against paper. And this creaky
airplane spinning without the ground is like standing on a staircase—
kissing with your eyes. Martin always told me, after the first
five minutes or so of a flight, you’re safe, until the landing;
but I’m terrible at counting with my legs tensed up against the floor.
Rosenquist quit painting billboards in 1959 “because two guys
got killed,” he said. “Abbie Marcus fell off Klein’s department store,
and another guy fell off a Budweiser sign in New Jersey.”
They started painting billboards, and finished
painting portraits. The story of the ground is always closer
than we think. I love the stairs, but know that lying down,
I could start to translate the sky— and with the light exploding
into morning, we’d all be safer on the ground.
“What’s more powerful? A hydrogen bomb explosion or the label of a soap box…”
—James Rosenquist, Art in America, February, 2004
I’m reading February’s Art in America— an article on Rosenquist—
when I realize that working horizontally suggests a narrative; vertically
and every picture becomes a self-portrait, or a mirror. The airplane
is taxiing, weaving a story with the sunrise and the asphalt. The airplane
is painting a portrait with the sky. Everyone is terrified of hanging
from some monarch’s bedroom wall— and I’m looking for Picasso’s
big, black eyes in the sunburst rips on Rosenquist’s canvas;
I’m looking for him, as the city stories shrink
between the leaving, and the cold sky turning black.
“You never use pure black paint— you add a lot of white to it,
because of the light,” Rosenquist’s words against paper. And this creaky
airplane spinning without the ground is like standing on a staircase—
kissing with your eyes. Martin always told me, after the first
five minutes or so of a flight, you’re safe, until the landing;
but I’m terrible at counting with my legs tensed up against the floor.
Rosenquist quit painting billboards in 1959 “because two guys
got killed,” he said. “Abbie Marcus fell off Klein’s department store,
and another guy fell off a Budweiser sign in New Jersey.”
They started painting billboards, and finished
painting portraits. The story of the ground is always closer
than we think. I love the stairs, but know that lying down,
I could start to translate the sky— and with the light exploding
into morning, we’d all be safer on the ground.
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