fastzombies

2010-05-31T21:37:00.001-07:00

2010 Folklife was rainy.

An Organic Lie

2010-05-06T01:01:00.001-07:00

“The True Artist Helps the World by Revealing Mystic Truths” –Bruce Nauman

In a post-post-modern paradox of creativity, what does it mean to be creative in a world where everything is fair game? Rather than grasping at immutable forms or ideas like the Hellenistic or Renaissance artists, contemporary artists are working to translate individual experience into a symbolic language; one that is decoded by the viewer. For the contemporary artist, experiential knowledge has been augmented by the proliferation of information media and the hastening advancement of digital technology. People must be able to filter a daily barrage of media in the form of images, sounds and text while vast banks of information are available at a moment’s notice; the world has shrunk to the length of a few keystrokes. In an issue of Appendix in 2003, artist Ryan Gander reads from a letter sent to him by a friend, “Spectators don’t want art, they want complete concepts…[n]ow people are so used to cinemas, expos and the Tate, that’s what they think art has to offer them. Complete concepts that bleep, buzz, flash and whirr like a new ring tone”.

Creative ideation in this morass of information is something that takes an incredible amount of effort, but in the end presents itself as effortless and begs inquiry into a deeper significance. Don’t worry, it’s there, but it was the artist’s responsibility to control how you recognized it within yourself. Sometimes meaning is buried beneath stylistic layers of abstraction or suspended within overt simplification of form; this kind of work will not give up its meaning so easily and so will actually resist definitive interpretation. Other works of art do not alienate and will require certain levels of participation on part of the viewer. The development of these varying levels of latency in artistic appreciation and practice parallels the proliferation of “acceptable” media into the white-walled vacuum of artistic practice. No longer restricted to ancient institutionalized concepts of aesthetics, artists may utilize any and every form of communication in order to craft their ideas. They are able to control the opacity of meaning in the things they produce by observing, retaining, repeating, verifying, and relating what they are trying to say with what they already know.

Artists are able to connect not with “universal” truths, but statements which are neutral, which make their implicit meaning explicit through a process of intuitive unfolding. This kind of art often is as much fun to interpret as it is to “get”. This experience is a kind of truth, for the subjective nature of the artist’s ideation leaves the art with a neutral meaning, whether it is abstract or representational in specificity, the concept becomes integrated into the form, style and interpretation of the piece. How many times have you thought, “I could have done that, why didn’t I?” while looking at modern art? This common question highlights the artist’s position within ideas of contemporary creativity, as one who unites vast differences in human experience in a single, refined statement. In a letter to Federico García Lorca, Jack Spicer once wrote, “Things do not connect; they correspond. That is what makes it possible for a poet to translate real objects, to bring them across language as easily as he can bring them across time…Even these letters. They correspond with something that you have written and, in turn, some future poet will write something which corresponds to them. That is how we dead men speak to each other”. Whether it was an emotion, feeling, or rumination, the artist realized something of importance to their intuitive understanding of the world and translated it through the language of their personal aesthetic style. These truths that Bruce Nauman is talking about are not really truths at all, but highly personalized observations that are accessible to other ways of thinking; the only thing “mystical” about them is the originality (or inventiveness) of their realization.

As communicators of mystic things, contemporary artists construct neutral realities; they are neither truths nor lies, but experiments in intercommunication. In that same issue of Appendix, Ryan Gander quoted Godard when talking about the fearlessness that artists must assume in their work, “I don’t say things to be understood, I say things to say them, and like the films, not everything there is to be understood immediately – it may take ten years, if at all”. These truths are mystical because they are anti-linguistic; because we may not have thought in that way before and may not ever in our lifetimes. The artist has no sole job, not to challenge convention but to be willing to try to be authentic and re-inventive. Like a pointing finger, they manipulate our attention through the things they create (sometimes on a mass, public scale and others on an individual private level) and only ask us to be open-minded enough to consider what they have presented from our own personal perspective.

*Read The Collected Books of Jack Spicer

listen! do you smell something?

2010-05-01T18:18:00.000-07:00

Each full moon of the year has a name. The full moon on April 28 was the "Pink Moon" - so called for the blooming wild ground phlox, one of the most widespread flowers to be found in early spring.

This gorgeous picture was taken by Japanese astronaut Soichi Noguchi from his lofty vantage aboard the International Space Station, where he and fellow crewmembers experience the sun rise and set an average 16 times per day.

Think about it. For a great deal of terrestrial-bound humans, a sunrise is a rare occurrence, a thing of quiet wonder. To be awake for a sunrise, in my experience, is to see the world in transition, when it is not quite awake. The light reflects off the city and tells the people to rise into the hustle and bustle activity which animates the steel and concrete every day.

Everyone knows the sun, they said goodnight last night, but fewer have greeted the coming of the day this morning, and even fewer did it in contemplation of what was happening in the sky above their cereal bowls.

The interchanging sun and moon still speak to us, in the language of the seasons and tides.

I saw it written and I saw it say
Pink moon is on its way
And none of you stand so tall
Pink moon gonna get you all
It's a pink moon
It's a pink, pink, pink, pink, pink moon.

2010-04-30T21:14:00.001-07:00

tanlines

2010-04-27T01:50:00.001-07:00

2010-04-18T01:59:00.001-07:00

2010-04-18T01:56:00.001-07:00

2010-04-18T01:52:00.001-07:00

2010-04-18T01:51:00.000-07:00

"Pursuit of Happiness" [Steve Aoki Remix] - Kid Cudi (feat. MGMT & Rata...

2010-04-15T18:39:00.000-07:00

a trailer, some favorites, and stanley kubrick

2010-04-13T17:16:00.000-07:00

The Extraordinary Ordinary Life of Jose Gonzalez

Nicija Zemlja (No Man's Land), dir. Danis Tanovic

Stalker, dir. Andrei Tarkovsky

Kontroll, dir. Nimród Antal

2010-04-12T20:50:00.000-07:00

i can ride my bike with no handlebars

saturday was beautiful

2010-04-12T14:05:00.000-07:00

2010-04-08T18:25:00.000-07:00

2010-04-02T08:59:00.000-07:00

This is most common in basement or ground floor bathrooms.

2010-04-01T16:35:00.000-07:00

Today, I learned about household sewage and drainage systems. Because the internal piping of a toilet is designed to prevent backups into the toilet itself to avoid potentially dangerous gases from entering the house through the sewage line, the water that has been flushed from the toilet follows the drainage line back to the open drain of the shower.

Unless that main line drain gets a clog, then the water that backs up behind it will follow the path of least resistance. Since the toilet already has standing water in it, the water naturally comes back through the shower drain. And then all over the floor.

The picture is grim indeed.

I went outside to search for a clean-out access point (a PVC pipe that sticks out of the ground and connects to the mainline drain), which would allow access with a router, to no avail. So I'm going the old fashioned route and using good ol' drain cleaner to get the clog out. It's been flooded for about two days, so it must be a fairly large clog.

I need some lye to give that clog a CHEMICAL BURN.

Vezi mai multe video din Film

i love subways

2010-03-29T05:45:00.001-07:00

this would be fun

2010-03-29T05:16:00.001-07:00

Yours Truly Presents: The Morning Benders "Excuses" from Yours Truly on Vimeo.

Cool to see JV hangin out in this video.

chaos

2010-03-26T19:40:00.000-07:00

let's watch this together.

2010-03-25T06:30:00.000-07:00

I don't want to set the world on fire

via

2010-03-25T06:20:00.000-07:00

"He may even now be wandering on some plesiosaurus-haunted oolitic coral reef, or beside the lonely saline seas of the Triassic Age." -H.G. Wells

bonzo goes to bitburg...

2010-03-23T18:01:00.000-07:00

You've got to pick up the pieces
C'mon, sort your trash
You better pull yourself back together
Maybe you've got too much cash

2010-03-22T15:06:00.000-07:00

followthesun

hell, it's about time

2010-03-21T20:15:00.000-07:00

J cracked a beta release of SC2, and i finally got a sneaky preview of the coolest game yet to be released. the new units add a great balance to the game, but i'm most excited for the new storyline.

blizzard has always been good at weaving yarns. starcraft movie anyone?

let's do it

2010-03-19T09:20:00.000-07:00

I'll try anything once

Esbjorn Svensson

2010-03-19T08:51:00.000-07:00

The Message

R.I.P. Jun Seba AKA Nujabes

2010-03-18T02:49:00.000-07:00

2010-03-16T20:21:00.000-07:00

Hey Ed, it's almost that time of year.

this is $50,000...good luck

2010-03-15T14:24:00.000-07:00

inspector jay from delhi

I wasn't going to miss that plane again...

2010-03-14T21:39:00.000-07:00

Just finished Sleepwalk, by Adrian Tomine. My dad was a big Tomine fan, and was the one who introduced me to his work. So far I've read the early Optic Nerves and this, and I have to say, he's got a real sense of cinematography. I like it when a comic utilizes interesting viewpoints, shows real depth and emotional understanding of the moment.

It was one of those reads where I sat down and didn't get back up again until it was finished.

2010-03-14T15:58:00.000-07:00

Class of '88

sleep is a patch of death

2010-03-09T11:57:00.000-08:00

which i'm trying to transcend.

wikipedia: "The lowest mortality was seen in individuals who slept between six and a half and seven and a half hours per night. Even sleeping only 4.5 hours per night is associated with very little increase in mortality. Thus mild to moderate insomnia for most people is associated with increased longevity and severe insomnia is only associated with a very small effect on mortality."

case in point, al herpin.

2010-03-08T15:38:00.000-08:00

The Kooks - Kids (MGMT)

2008 represent.

2010-03-04T03:47:00.001-08:00

Homebrewed beer by Garrett on Saturday
Homebrewed tunes by Ageless Animals on Tuesday

70 Million for 51

2010-03-01T08:55:00.000-08:00

70 Million by Hold Your Horses ! from L'Ogre on Vimeo.

Good morning, after an exhausting all-niter, this cheered me up.

lists for sunshine

2010-02-19T13:38:00.001-08:00

"less is more."
-get some 35mm film for fisheye camera
-get a job that either entails working outside, or burial in a basement filing room
-finish my senior thesis
-watch some david cronenberg flicks for next quarter
-find direction in life

"how are you, ben wong?"

2010-02-16T14:16:00.000-08:00

i've learned that for a long time now, i've only been enjoying the things that have been handed to me. the things that came effortlessly or were just dropped in my lap. i've been so busy filtering life through my brain that i've forgotten what it means to do things just for myself. not long after i started college i started deconstructing everything and stopped fighting for the dreams i had. the things that i used to love to do are lost, replaced by newer faces, different activities, darker homes. i am a wholly different person from five years ago - people change, but guilt stays the same. it's the worst part of memory - that kind of haunting essence which sticks like a bad smell. it colors specific moments with a kaleidoscopic cross-wiring of reality and memory; it's why i'm writing right now.

all the time i've spent worrying about my day-to-day function in society is a sad waste. i could be exploring the world. in this city, everything is familiar and congested and everyone is too close to have any more secrets, save for the deepest or most petty of concerns. maybe i'm asking all the wrong questions, but most days i feel distracted (or maybe just generally disappointed in myself) unto duress. i'm ready to grow some more.

---

there's a part of me that's sacred and quiet. it's the part that notices things, saves memories, and is the source for all my cravings. it's whisper urges me to look outward and see things and, to some degree, understand them. but, despite all i have experienced, some things just don't translate into words. this is a part of me i won't share easily, partly because of its unintelligible nature and partly because it's all i have left of myself that's never been changed.

even when i've stripped myself down to nothing, i won't be naked.

ellipses

2010-01-11T17:47:00.001-08:00

the other the other the other.

my life, it seems, is a series of gains and losses. it's about exclusion and boundaries; grasping at ideas which float above our heads, and then smashing them together to see if something is produced. like the children of the sun, the moon and the earth, we are all searching for a reflection in other people. something wordless and pure-that missing piece that will strip the layers away and unbreak our broken thoughts. sometimes it takes me by surprise how little i share about myself with others. i want to scream, "i'm just as broken as you are! can't you see? just get over yourself and maybe we can just be." but life doesn't work like that. you have to justify everything and even nothing. what kind of world is this where one must clarify every thought and emotion...these things were not made for words to describe.

words best to color our actions, like ellipses...

sacrifice

2009-12-09T16:00:00.000-08:00

"fearless, beautiful thing, more like
a bird flapping its wings against wire
who does not wait for a fucking thing
who moves even when she is still
he has reduced you to a country of flesh"

love is a strange thing.

it comes at you, in wavves and torrents
and undeniable knife-wounds.
it's like a person who never washes their feet;
even after they've gone, their aroma lingers
everywhere they've stepped.
it leaves a brand on the brain
a searing touch
it confuses and frustrates
and is the most beautiful experience
in creation.

how much does it weigh?
your soul?
your best friend?
your lover?

how brittle the connections.

2009-11-19T20:17:00.000-08:00

rhythms of i
rhythms of want

are sometimes

rhythms of love
rhythms of fear
rhythms of hate

out of step

rhythms of good
rhythms of feel
rhythms of life

when you go away

rhythms of you
rhythms of me

2009-10-07T02:28:00.001-07:00

the murmur of the world

2009-08-08T05:46:00.000-07:00

"if nothing's okay, then it's okay."

"in the compassion that turns to the other, there is fear that the other will not be able to endure and fear that the other, mired in pain, may not be able to obey the summons addressed to him. the other feels the touch one brings to him as a force come from elsewhere that draws him out of his pain, mired in itself, and draws him into a suffering that depersonalizes and that is no longer his alone, and no longer his.
one goes because one finds oneself compelled to go; one goes so that the other not be alone in his or her dying. every move of one's hand that is moved to tact and tenderness acknowledges the imperative addressed to one in the susceptibility of the other. one has to suffer for the others and with the other. the grief, when the other has been taken and no medication or comfort were possible, understands that one has to grieve."

community arises not from the ability to understand one another in discourse, but from a willingness to engage despite this lack of understanding. what brings us together is death. not the fear of dying, but the removal of a closely connected member of a community. compassion is the communication which requires neither words nor symbols, only a touch or a presence.

if our rational society is a cloth on which all points are connected, then give me the tears in the fabric; the holes through which shines the light of imagination, whimsy and metamorphosis. with these thoughts, we have ended our journey around the island, which we go to because we have to.

a story from my travelogue

2009-08-06T19:32:00.000-07:00

thinking as a plant provides a unique view of chronoception, one that extends beyond human time-scales. utilization of our senses gives us polarity in our movement as animals. we want to move away from where our shit falls, towards where we see the next horizon. rooted in place, a plant can only digest what falls on or near its body, even nurture and replenish the immediate surroundings. as animals, constantly seeking nourishment, we should remember the pace of life which plants are able to lead; often beyond many of our generations. processes of plant life are slow and highly reactive to external input. they absorb rather than devour and in turn, support life around themselves. rather than making life a repetitive process of consumption and waste, be aware of the intimate friction that occurs in every interaction and exchange.

feel the grit of the universe.

on particular mornings, my father would sit me down on the front porch of our house and say, "find three things you've never noticed before, take three deep breaths and smell the air. then, and only then, may you begin the day." his words still ring and whisper in my ears, even as i rush to catch the morning bus in seattle. alter your perception every day, put yourself in a different position to perhaps catch something, anything, you may have not noticed before. in this way, you will never be bored, life will always surprise, and beauty will become visceral. to hold a simple composition for more than a few seconds is to capture the poetry of life. a simple problem is often accompanied by a simple solution, if only you are willing to twist your perception to see it.

in a land where the sun never sets, the sky is always blue. sometimes hidden, sometimes in yo face.

i have seen the universe, and it is made of poems.

2009-08-06T11:42:00.000-07:00

and we, dear child, are unstoppable reality generators. our escapism is a drive for freedom, for escape equals transformation. digging tunnels through the walls of infinitely compartmentalized society, we seek that which can't be seen. sunrise to sunset and sunset to sunrise.

"humans do not put an end to desertedness, they make it sacred."

2009-07-30T16:36:00.000-07:00

"those people who come to the island indeed occupy and populate it; but in reality, were they sufficiently separate, sufficiently creative, they would give the island only a dynamic image of itself, a consciousness of the movement which produced the island, such that through them the island would in the end become conscious of itself as deserted and unpeopled. the island would be only the dream of humans, and humans, the pure consciousness of the island."
-gilles delueze
if we become one with the function of our movements and interactions, then, and only then will we understand the movements and rhythms of the land. to understand the elan of creation and movement is to give reason to the fervency of our wanderlusts. the movement of humans inevitably carries the burdens of ritual and mythos. our greatest differences lie in the geography of the imagination and how we choose to link separate spaces.

i have long searched for a place to be. whether a state of mind or physical locus, i want to exist with simplicity and in turn, to be content. the various movements of my body, urges and sensations yearn for logical clarification. in compartmentalizing emotions, they can only remain separate and further confuse consolation. i have come to believe this is an erroneous process and that i am only denying myself experience. it is in the act of travel that i find myself happiest and it is in this search which yields the greatest pleasures of life.

still, there is a division between vertical growth and horizontal movement. "now i'm weaker than the palest blue. oh so weak in this need for you." is it my wants and desires which keep me in one place? it is my nature to sit and observe when rather, i would be running free. i can see why a lover's dream is not so different from the six days of creation, or a suicide bombing.

is there not eloquence in a sunrise? often, my words fail to articulate what i am feeling, even in the simplest of terms. so i choose to remain silent; this is the greatest death of all. but i am not unhappy when i have nothing to say. i will learn to follow the whispers of my body, and i will learn to listen to yours.

body and mind are inseparable, for what i feel is what i know, and what i know is what i think about.

chompadon!

2009-07-26T06:58:00.000-07:00

i'm excited for this.

http://dresdencodak.com/

boom.

2009-07-25T19:59:00.000-07:00

when the wind whispers to a flower child

2009-07-23T16:53:00.000-07:00

how i envy the plants. the quiet nature of things, and the hand which pulls at mine. there is a space for you which i hold close behind my eyes. you are always there, and i can always see your smile.
sometimes the grit of the universe gets in my eye, and i must blink hard to keep from crashing into something. but at least the weather reminds me of you; ever in motion, changing and quiet. this morning the clouds caressed the mountains and the flagpoles cheered in polyrhythmic syncopation.

i lie flat on my back, in a field behind my house. green and blue vignetting my vision. i wish you were here.

the chthonians

2009-07-19T10:39:00.000-07:00

When I see this world, this landscape, I recognize the Icelander’s connection with their natural surroundings. Buildings are directly integrated into the land and do not dominate the immediate area. Only in such places as Reykjavik does the pavement overrule the turf. Even then, sprawl is in minimum and the buildings do not lean or overwhelm. These things direct me to think of the Icelandic people as ones who have some understanding of the structural processes of their homeland. How did they come to be this way? Why haven’t they developed over the wide, open spaces? Things commonly observed in America seem flipped on their heads here in Iceland. Skyscrapers become mountains; the roads the rivers and animal paths. Here, life is led at a pace closer to that of the glaciers than of the pace of technology. Here, the landscape shifts and feels and renews itself constantly, often in violent ways.

Where did we come from? Can life be a product of destruction? I recently read about a Japanese performance artist, who on his deathbed gathered his friends around him and performed one last dance as life slipped from his fingers. In a way, it became his sacrifice to the living; a parting gift as he shook the hand of death. Can we learn to be so in tune with ourselves as to not fear imminence? I feel that people are so greatly turned inwards, to technology and to their own self-satisfaction, that we constantly miss out on what could potentially inform us to greater ends. Our interactions with the land and the friction of communication within structured space is of vast importance, and sometimes we forget to take a step back and look at these things as critical to our survival as a species. Death is merely a return to the womb.

I know what I feel. We have come to Iceland not only to fulfill our own fantasies and imaginings, but to be touched and changed by the land itself.

Maya Deren - Meshes of the Afternoon

2009-07-19T10:36:00.000-07:00

today in iceland...

2009-06-23T17:00:00.001-07:00

ég elska þig.

2009-06-23T04:00:00.000-07:00

flew over a lightning storm two hours into the midwest and saw dawn four hours after sunset.
arrived in reykjavik at three in the morning. my backpack is hopefully following behind me in some willy wonka ray and may be delivered to the hostel when it eventually shows up at keflavik.
we're going to have the midnight sun until mid august. so for most of the trip it'll seem like nine thirty in the morning all night long.

the passage of time is perceived and internalized by the body through changes in sensory input. for example, a man falling at terminal velocity in a windowless elevator will be aware of his own death.

2009-05-18T04:17:00.000-07:00

sometimes, when the wiring starts to go, it sounds like the wind is blowing though my stereo.

if i ever leave this world alive...

2009-05-18T03:53:00.000-07:00

i am rapidly considering several things.

one, i may delete my facebook soon. it's rapidly growing into an ugly beast, full of spam and stupidity. why do i need to be constantly updated on how my virtual friends are virtually feeling? i miss the days when people left messages on little magnetic tapes inside answering machines.

two, nocturnalism doesn't sound so bad when you sleep all afternoon. the world is silent and wrapped in shadows at night. no sirens or bustling people. i really miss the sound of trains on the waterfront sometimes too. they were a constant presence for a while until i moved up here and now, the only sounds that underpin the day are emergency response vehicles rushing to and fro.

three, what's the point of being an optimist when everyone around feels shitty all the time? i'd rather keep looking on the greener side of things instead of wallowing in depression, but some folks just don't want to be cheered up.
why is it when we're down, emotions seem exponentially amplified? it's like they go through several magnification filters before they become apparent. we're slow to react and shut out the rest of the world. then it rubs off on other people and they begin to feel shitty all the time, like no idea they ever had ever mattered or will ever make a difference.

i got my life thrown in my face, and some perspective was leveled on my head. fuckin demon alcohol...

2009-02-05T04:48:00.000-08:00

2009-01-14T12:18:00.000-08:00

The Vowels Pt. 2 - WHY?

Fremont, 10 January

2009-01-12T20:19:00.001-08:00

I Make Windows - Forest Fire

my baby, she wrote me a letter...

2008-12-21T12:44:00.000-08:00

homecoming was a sweet one. the cities have been dusted in cold, powdered sugar.

my goal for 2009 is to get my work into one or maybe two shows somewhere in seattle or tacoma.

others ask me if it is strange to come back to this town, if everything feels misplaced. i don't want to compare the northwest to europe, they each offer and hold separate meanings for me. home is where the heart's at and my heart lives amongst pine trees and puddles, gray and blue skies alike. this is where i can be, alone with my thoughts, my friends, and my love.

this will be a quiet christmas, i can feel it.

of minor prophets...

2008-12-12T03:21:00.000-08:00

my final days in rome are spent packing, organizing, and re-packing my life and thoughts. the energy that was shared between all the people i traveled with is gone; they've ventured on to other lands. our studio is bare, an empty shell of what once was. it is my temporary roof, a pair of chairs my temporary bed.

i am sad to leave, not rome in particular, but the experience and freedom that was afforded to us while we were here. art is life, and life is beautiful when it is.

smoke and ash drift from an open window where someone sings in a language i'll never know.

suddenly, everything is much more foreign; my thoughts and desires for home, intimacy, and kinship exponentially increase. i want a place to be, and sleepless nights in a chair get me no closer. there is solace in solidarity, but i believe love is only real when it's shared.

andiamo, mi amici

2008-12-09T04:15:00.000-08:00

our final show is over. photos and videos by cliff despeaux located here. overall it was a delightful evening, and everyone's work looked amazing.

we're all moved out of the apartments and many of us are currently holing up in the rome center until the morning when a few people leave for seattle. cam and i may surf some couches until the end of the week.

goodbyes are not simple, and you never really know how much you missed something until it's gone from life. my life is departing from rome, and i am happy that we ran parallel for a while.

he now knew he could travel alone, just preferred not to

2008-12-04T13:55:00.000-08:00

home is within reach. i can almost taste the trees, the salty air.

tomorrow is our final show and then the program ends on tuesday. my flight from rome is on the 13th of december at 06.10, i should be landing in seattle around 02.30 in the afternoon on that day.

amsterdam

i am ready to get away. away from these stale faces that populate everyday of my life. this language barrier has somewhat cloistered us all in our apartments and studio.

our whimsical flight through europe is coming to its conclusion. is it fizzling? i cannot tell.

i can't believe we're still arguing this

2008-12-01T06:33:00.000-08:00

i am always happy to hear news from home...well, not always.

a person can be rational, people border on idiotic at times. i had high hopes and renewed faith in people, what with the overwhelming success of obama's election. i had hoped his message of acceptance and cooperation between all americans had struck a chord with the general population. i guess there are always exceptions...

proposition (H)8 in california, and then this last week.

i've never had a real reason to read the daily. mostly, i checked to see how many days were left in the quarter every so many mornings on my way to class. but now, i have lost all respect for this publication and its editing staff.

this article should not have been published. i mean...seriously?

"Race is a biological state; homosexuality is more of an emotional condition, and we should not, for that reason alone, start passing laws condoning it.

Being homosexual, like other emotional tendencies, doesn’t make someone a bad person, but it’s a problem that needs to be dealt with, not denied."

fuck.
that.
shit.

the idea of 'race' stems from the bizarre notion that differentiating physical characteristics somehow fundamentally divide one person from another; that the color of somebody's skin makes them more important than everybody else. phrenology is fucking dead. we're all homo sapiens in the end, so who the FUCK is going to deny any human being their right to fairly love another.

i know many gay people-they are my friends and my family. they are no more emotionally unstable than i and they certainly are no less human than you...but they are fucking angry. they are angry that they have been relegated to existing as second-class citizens while nervous people accuse them of deadly sin and initiating the downfall of american society. fuck you, people.

according to responses from the staff, this article was actually sent back to be re-written before this crumbling rhetoric could be published. in comparison to the rebuttal article that was printed in juxtaposition, Fay's article is hardly a shining example of journalistic prowess. i thought the purpose of the daily was to foster meaningful discussion through dialogue that reflects the high standards to which the university of washington has always been held. this is barely tabloid worthy writing. i am sick of bigoted people letting hateful communication slide.

i am tired of not being able to discuss this topic without somebody spewing tales of slippery slopes and the sub-humanity of the gay, bisexual, lesbian, and transgendered community. the individuality that defines the human condition simultaneously defies all labels, categorization and conjecture. to define sexuality in terms of black and white, or even shades of gray, is preposterous.

i know that the daily was within its first amendment rights to print this article, but unfortunately the first amendment allows racists, bigots, and the fucking brainless to keep on hating. this is just filthy journalism. if you want to make an argument, cease the rhetoric and cease the dogma; give me something reasonable to chew on for a while, and then we'll talk.

one supposedly rational person commented on the rebuttal, "The gay community will have my 'respect' when they demonstrate that they are deserving of it. That won't be anytime in the near future."

every human experiences love and desire. let's at least respect that.

amsterdam

2008-11-29T14:49:00.000-08:00

there is peace of mind
and then there is an
inner peace,
which requires no mind

thoughts will tug
at your being
while desire
becomes entrapment

until the drain is
stuffed with
cognitive
back hair

that which is unthinkable
is not yet unimaginable

we ride a tidal wave of young blood out of amsterdam.
travelers, it seems, are existentially bound;
lives in parallel. i love the wanderer, the wayward soul, the keyhole whistlers - some people never stop living until they're truly dead.

our inordinate passion to wholly experience life, our lives, is what keeps us young at heart and wise in thought. propelled by some kinetic faith, we hop the first train out of town and let our potential energy cascade into the world.

Erik en de gekte voorbij-onze werkelijkheid

happy thanksgiving

2008-11-26T10:59:00.000-08:00

off to amsterdam on the morrow.

there's also been a slight change of itinerary- i will be returning to seattle on the 13th of december instead of the 24th. booyakasha.

our apartment, now, has no internet, no heat and no hot water. alternatives are in the works.

4's

2008-11-21T19:33:00.001-08:00

where are we all going?
where does it lead?
have our thoughts become commodity,
a byproduct of media? of gender?
---
a dreamscape will spread,
as far as any universe.
but you won't know,
until the clocks are unreadable.
---
namasté, i bow to you,
my kindred soul.
i could follow your voice
through a hurricane.

2008-11-19T19:28:00.000-08:00

there's been a distinct lack of updates on my part. there's also been a distinct lack of internet in our apartment. i blame global warming.

last weekend, cameron and i went to florence for the weekend. we got lost repeatedly; seemingly stuck in a continuum like bill murray in groundhog day. but we didn't care. happy enough to just absorb the city and life therein, we wandered everywhere.

cameron is a fantastic artist who, daily, inspires me to observe life in different ways. he is always drawing, sketching, videotaping or taking pictures of small, visceral existences. "life is art is life," as he would say.

rome is beautiful and wonderful and will never cease to amaze...but i'm getting an itch. i want to travel, somewhere.

some sketches...

2008-11-12T15:13:00.000-08:00

look, it's me in naples

2008-11-11T16:08:00.000-08:00

photo by cliff despeaux

naples is a city at the edge of a great body of water. naturally, i like being there.
i need to process the five rolls of film that i took with me asap.

the group went to pompeii and explored the ruins. it seemed a city on the verge of a renaissance in art and architecture. it would have been a magnificent place to live if it hadn't gotten wiped out in 79 ad. cameron and i found a quiet spot in the middle of the ruins, a place where someone might have slept almost two thousand years ago, and drew, wrote, and took photos. i found a snail shell :)

afterwards, we took a train to sorento, which is only just out of reach of description.

where the sea meets land, there are fifty foot cliffs, and where the city intercedes, there are buildings carved from the vertical rocks. we faced west and saw a sorbet sunset.

photo by cliff despeaux

in naples, we saw louise borgeois, who was born in 1911 and is still creating art to this day. she was showing at the museo di capodimonte, with her work set amongst many classical style paintings. if every artist's work is based on the layers of what has already been created, this was a good example. three words: giant metal spiders.

our final project is to create anything at all...

:)

2008-11-06T21:16:00.000-08:00

it's 06.20 and i am an hour away from departing for napoli for the weekend.

saw bill viola yesterday. his work is absolutely amazing considering he is a pioneer in video art. i want to pick his mind.

i am ready for adventure, for life to advance another step.

life is art is life is art...

we are one nation of many different people
and we are all unique.
i am ecstatic for the shift
but with all the rhetoric of hope and unity
why categorize,
love
sex
the spectrum?

our damnation is
our damn nation.

so here we go...

2008-11-03T02:28:00.000-08:00

second crit is today.

giro

The assignment, Progretto Ricardo, was to make a souvenir. In any form, a souvenir serves as a placeholder or a reservoir for memories and experiences. They can be commodified trinkets or items of extremely personal reasoning and craftsmanship.

I chose to make a book. I titled it giro, which, in Italian, means 'to go around'. It has pictures that I've taken with my two medium format cameras on various adventures in Italy. There are even a few blank pages left; the grand adventure is not yet over (is it ever?).

In closing, here are a few pictures of our studio; our workspace:

2008-10-26T09:32:00.000-07:00

i am your comfort. i hold you. i let you go. i am true to you. i am a secret. i explain everything. i seduce you. you lose yourself. i am what you have lost. your elusive past. your fleeting present. your irresistible future. i am the little things in life. and the big things.
i am lyrical.
i am logical.
i am steady.
i am faithless.
i am prosaic.
i am poetic.
i am hard.
i am tender.

i am the voice of reason.

of sanity.
of history.

i will sing you an aria.
-Lynne Tillman

soviet jazz

2008-10-24T04:57:00.000-07:00

The internet is not a stable thing here. I haven't gotten the internet in a while.

I finally got to scanning a few prints from the darkroom today.

bologna
lido di ostia
ostia antica

I'm assembling a book right now as a souvenir that I can bring home and share with everyone.

Here are a few drawings as well; I love this drawing business:
my studio desk
dave mckean inspired
pine of rome

we're not at home

2008-10-19T11:47:00.000-07:00

Ostia is an ancient and beautiful city near the Mediterranean. Our drawing class ventured out to Ostia Antica on Friday to sketch some of the ruins. There were many old foundations from commercial districts and theaters.

I found that even though I am studying in Italy for only a short time, I am not taking as many pictures as the average tourist. I came here to live a Roman life, which continues at a far slower pace than the American experience. I often get left behind on tours because I've stopped to appreciate the scenery for too long.

The dark room is up and running well, so I will scan some prints soon...maybe tomorrow.

2008-10-15T08:30:00.000-07:00

the three apostles discover the holy land

Each person in the group was given their own disposable camera at the beginning of the trip. Our first assignment is to create some kind of artistic response based on or inspired by the photos we took. Mine is titled the three apostles discover the holy land. It's a collage of the photos I took in a found frame and mounted on the bottom section of a fruit crate that I salvaged from the market in the Campo. My favorite part is the crazy perspectives and angles created by the many different photos.

The darkroom is almost set up. We're able to develop film, but we need one more table before we can start processing prints.

skeleton - con gli occhi aperti

2008-10-12T03:17:00.000-07:00

Today is domenica, the day of rest...and so rest I shall. Here's a picture of some fun on the balcony.

Chris and Lily on our balcony, havin a beer and shootin from the hip.

My room, where you can see my loft area above Clif's bed.

i bet you wish you knew what time it was...

2008-10-11T16:54:00.001-07:00

Today has been a most amazing day of adventure. I just got back from seeing The Cure...FOR FREE...at San Giovanni. What an incredible show. Definitely up there with Radiohead for the best concert of my life.

Also, today a group of us went to Lido di Ostia and swam a bit in the Mediterranean. It's much warmer than the Sound and even Lake Washington.

I certainly miss many amenities from back in the states; like drip coffee. I've had so much espresso that I'm not sure if regular drip will be able to sustain me upon my return.

Hopfully I will be able to post some analogue work as soon as we can set up our darkroom on Moday. It's going to be in a single bathroom in the Rome Center at school: hella college. I'll post some pictures of my loft tomorrow.

For now, my feets are achin'...achin' for you.

SPQR

2008-10-08T12:36:00.001-07:00

Greetings, finally, from Roma. We just finished getting settled into our apartments in the city after a few frantic travel days in the northern section of Italy (read UMBRIA). All nine of the guys in the SAPR are grouped into a single apartment in the Campo de' Fiori, overlooking the statue of Giordano Bruno. He was burned at the stake on the very spot (something about claiming that the earth was not the center of the universe).

My bed is lofted above my roommate's along with my shelves; it's like my own private room within the larger one, which has its own balcony as well.

So far, we haven't gotten a chance to create any art, but I have had plenty of pizza, pasta and wine. It's a very warm society (like the climate), but it does take some getting used to in order to integrate myself better. Not knowing any Italian makes explanations very confusing on the street. I wish everyone was as good as Ze Frank when it comes to explaining the intricacies of anything.

les petites décès

2008-02-26T22:35:00.001-08:00

Who these days gets to say they spend their free time creating planets for their final project? This is a stereographic projection of a 360x180 degree panorama consisting of about fifty pictures.

I first ran across this quirky style of panoramic photography on flickr, and I've been working hard to reproduce the same effect for a few weeks now. Hugin is an amazing tool for stitching together photos as well as the Photoshop plugin, Flexify.

I've got a long way to go before I get these looking really nice; it's a good thing they're so much fun to make.

BC: we can do with some more poison

2008-02-17T12:15:00.000-08:00

Never before have I been plunged so deeply into the heart of a city. Downtown Vancouver is altogether a bizarre mish-mash of art, drugs, and music. People here are generally happy (at least they seem to be).

Last night I walked this city over, from one end to the other. I ran in a drunken haze across noisy boulevards and danced in a noise-filled basement.

So this is culture.

2008-02-05T04:20:00.000-08:00

i think not