March 7, 2014
So the book is out, and I had another even weirder book come out, and I have a novel and poetry book to hustle, but my brain is mostly on images right now; abstract images, that is, and also trying to figure out a way to get into medical school. Med school seems like the sharp left turn that it sort of is but my soundbite is: I spent the first half of my life figuring myself out and want to spend the second half helping other people like I helped my mom when she was sick. Not this will stop the writing or art (or music) but I’ll just only be producing at twice the rate of normal artists and writers instead of five times the rate. Easy peasy.
And expect some posts coming up this weekend that contain actual content but until then I’ve been messing around with dollar store stuff in Photoshop again, and here’s one alley I stumbled down:
February 25, 2014
So I’m thinking over sending in a proposal to the 33 1/3 series to cover Coil’s 1991 album Love’s Secret Domain, but the main problems with that are 1) I am not really a good journalist, and 2) I have not actually read any 33 1/3 books (yet) and 3) Nobody has ever heard of that album. I have the whole Coil discography, minus the ANS Coil album; more and more often when making artistic or writerly decisions I ask myself: What would Coil do? What they mainly did was take tons of drugs and write gay sex magick songs in a range of styles that mainly made people really uncomfortable. And I don’t necessarily set out to make people uncomfortable but it definitely almost always happens. For a day or two, this week, I thought this was a bad thing. Then I got over myself and decided to write an Upper-Middle Class Family Drama novel to see what happens, and what’s coming out is that a straight guy takes his girlfriend’s straight younger brother shopping for suits at Milwaukee’s high-end mall, the bicker, hijinks ensue, and you know from scene one that one of them will die in a car accident but you don’t know who or when. I call it my “breeder” novel but that’s not really very nice of me.
Anyway. I named this series Disco Hospital after the Coil song of the same name. I have never taken drugs, not even pot or ecstasy or whatever, because: why? But I guess here are some photos to take drugs to while you look at them. What drugs, I’m not sure. They’re low-res but they’re 4×6 feet. Enjoy.
February 14, 2014
I was going to turn this into more of an essayistic and literary endeavor because the two or three people aware that this blog exists might be interested in that because I have a book coming out, but life happens and I get busy with obligations I fool myself into thinking I can tackle and I don’t actually have much to say other than the book is experimental short fiction and features a lot of gay men getting tied up in a lot of ways (and other stuff) but that was a unifying device and not a lit-porn deal because I don’t really do the whole “write what you know” thing because unless your life is really interesting or you’re really funny and you can cough up a memoir the results are pretty hideous. And the novel and book of poems I’m trying to get published soonish are sort of gay but also sort of autistic/Yiddish/weird in new ways because even though I am autistic it’s hard to find ways of writing about it that don’t fall flat (though I do recommend Daniel Tammet’s books) and the Jewish stuff is because I’m converting to Judaism, which actually is an interesting story but not one I can share (yet).
Plus I’m starting to generate photo-related images again, refreshed after spending almost six months just painting, so I have a bunch of that stuff to post, like the stuff below, and other stuff I have to work on, some of it in the Photoshop stage and some needing to be shot/scanned/etc. so I am going to try to post stuff here but it’s going to be a jumble of images and bits of chest-thumping and probably some short book reviews of not-necessarily-new books. I am hoping to do this several times a week, but we’ll see how that goes. Anyway, I’m off to try to translate some transliterated Yiddish back into written Yiddish for a photo project but here are some washed out Banana Republic models, about which more later.
Dear readers, if there are any of you, apologies. A lot of my time has been taken up trying to finesse my finances, and most of my other time has been taken up by stuff I can’t even write about on a blog nobody reads. So more about painting soon, and more about the weird fact that I have a book coming out, and maybe more about the parts of my life that don’t make me seem batshit, but for now, some freedom: working on paintings for so long has freed me up to approach photos in a simultaneously more plastic and more fluid way, so I’m working with images, mine and others’, when I have time, and some results are below. More later, if not soon then pretty soon.
January 24, 2014
Aiming to ramp things up here again in a post-Facebook, post-community, post-photography world, posting about all manner of things ranging from abstract painting to “nice” prose to rational mysticism, so hang on, the four of you who read this. First right now though some images of the paintings I’ve been making; these are all sort of medium, meaning ranging from 16×20″ to 24×30″. They have titles but I have epicondylitis so I can’t be bothered right now. Enjoy. More later.
So last month I wrote a novel. And in the writing of that novel I decided to turn the main character from a failed painter into a guy with a secret, successful art career as a painter and photographer. So I’m going through my hard drives for photos that would work, and in the meantime have been painting “his” paintings, which appear in the book, and I should have some done tomorrow. But currently I have some random ephemera for you; a glimpse, b/w and color, into poor Stanley’s brain; one of the b/w images here will probably get inserted into the novel at the appropriate place and then later get cut by an editor if the book sells but here it is. Also there’s the painting of the MINDCOM logo, which shows up in giant form in Stanley’s apartment one day as a “clue” and when he asks his fridge about it, discovers he painted it himself. His fridge tells him it thinks he did a very good job. It’s that kind of book. I am also working on art projects, but more of that later. Anyway:
September 11, 2013
Today was near top on the list of “worst days of my life.” I’m making art and writing anyway, because I don’t know what else to do. I’m going to start updating this thing here more in the future, because I have a lot to say, and want to say it. Here’s some images from a conceptual project about the prohibitive cost of actually mounting an exhibition in 2013, something I’m facing right now since the guy who was going to make me frames and use his glass and assemblage material is now no longer speaking to me so I have to reprint the whole show because he has the images/mats/mounting and probably won’t give them to me so I have to find frames somewhere. Fun! This is not work from that show. These actual prints are 30×40″ minimum; some are 3.5×5 feet. They’re dollar store plastic flowers bent and flatbed scanned in a dark room with the lid open.