Here's the Truth

I was going to make a flyer, and there's still plenty of time, but why bother?

I Shot a Warhol Quarter-Century Birthday Bash aka Never Better Tour
Friday, February 20, 2009
Rock & Roll Hotel
1353 H Street, NE
Washington, DC 20002

Performances by:

P.O.S.
Sims
Mike Mictlan + Lazerbeak are Hand Over Fist

$10 in advance/$12 at the door

Come celebrate my quarter-century mark with me, while partying with the guys of Minneapolis, Minnesota's Doomtree! I'm going to have a blast by default. It'll probably be the best time of your life, so start saving your money to get through the door, get your train/plane tickets, taxi/bus/Metro fare, and hotel accomodations.

Hold Me

Hold Me is a custom made longboard fabricated by the father of a friend, who made this deck specifically for another friend of mine.

Once my buddy got his hands on the board, he opted, rather than put grip tape on it for control, that he would place artificial turf on it, because he rides barefoot.

He was happy with the board up until that point, and this is where I come in. He asked me to lace his longboard with a graphic, and naturally I accepted the request.

What kind of imagery fits with artificial turf? I'm not entirely sure, but I didn't want anything that screamed, Obvious!

I struggled for months (yes, months) with an image to stencil on this board, but being that it's Christmas, I figured now is the best time to get crackin' on this piece. Mental revision after mental revision was made, but here we are. Low and behold, when pandas attack! Hold me!

Loyalty

Loyalty is a stencil piece that I did for a charity event earlier in the year called Barkitecture. Without getting into too many specifics about the event, it raises money through selling art, in order to benefit the Faithful Friends no-kill animal shelter here in Wilmington. So, it was for a good cause.

Out of all the dogs and cats on the planet, I went with Lassie. Why? Why Lassie? My question to you would be, why not Lassie?

When I think of loyal pets, I think of Lassie, in all of her splendor, attempting great feats of courage, strength, and loyalty. I view Scots as being the same way (or at least the few that I've met and know). The breed of dog is a rough collie, which originated in Scotland, hence the tartan.

The tartan is not made from a pattern I happened to dream up. In fact, the tartan is based on that of the Scottish royal guard.

Everything on the canvas is stenciled or was taped off, with the exception of the overlapping blue stripes. That part I'm not giving away, but nothing on there is free-hand, or crafted with a brush. Even the script in the lower left-hand corner is stenciled.

This is something I wish I still had, but I'm glad it was able to help the animals a little bit.

Never Got Above 25 Degrees

I meant to post on this a couple weeks ago—with pictures—but I ended up not really documenting it too well. Therefore, this is what I have.

I went to Minneapolis during the first week of December for a huge concert known as the Doomtree Blowout IV. The group Doomtree has made the Blowout an annual show, and this year was the fourth iteration of it, held at First Avenue (as made famous in the movie, Purple Rain).

The night before was the Happy Holidays Tour at the 7th St. Entry (a part of First Ave.), put on by Black Clover Records.

Both shows were fun, but the Blowout was absolute insanity! Just pure bananas!

That Sunday was a lot of sitting around, and Monday...well, I'll talk about that Monday when the day comes.

For the most part, I want to thank everyone who made my trip so great. So shout out to Plain Ole Bill, all of Doomtree, Mac Lethal, Alicia Steele, Noam the Drummer, FranzDiego.com, and all the folks over at the Minneapolis College of Art and Design.

And yeah, it was cold, but so what. I was born in the winter, I'm not phased by it.

This is the BIG One

I Shot a Warhol's Quarter-Century Birthday Bash

Friday, February 20, 2009

More details to come!

Thank You, Kind Sir

I sit here in my apartment on my couch, taking part in my daily ritual of vegetating on my couch while watching The Simpsons in syndication. Anyone who's seen the show knows that it's one of the greatest series to ever grace the television.

Now, many people who have had meaningful conversations with me know where I stand when it comes to domestic and foreign relations. Essentially, I feel that, "charity starts in la casa..." With that said, I have no problem with people who attempt to aid others in foreign nations, but there are so many here in our land who need our help just as much.

Even still, many people in some of the worst situations here in the United States of America are better off than people of many nations throughout the world. My dad told me that people in the projects here live like kings compared to people in Iraq (he's in the military). Why wouldn't I believe my father?

During a break, a commercial came on about a laptop that can be purchased and sent to children in developing nations. The laptop goes simply by, XO. The computer can be purchased for $199, then gets sent to children in countries abroad. To find out more about the device, visit www.amazon.com/xo, or stop by www.laptop.org.

Although, if the $199 price tag is a little out of your budget, you can always give the gift of a LifeStraw. I first heard about the LifeStraw during a presentation by an industrial designer, who mentioned the wonderful invention, which makes any water, no matter how dirty it is, possible to drink. How much will the LifeStraw set you back if it's peaked your interest? Well, not much at all. The water purification device will only cost those interested a mere $5, which allows for the purchase of multiple straws.

What's a few lives, right?

Shooting at Clay Pigeons

Recently I took a trip to Minneapolis, MN for the Doomtree Blowout IV. The trip itself was the best time of my life, but I'll save that for another time. Another time just may be my memoirs, should I live long enough to actually have memoirs.

What this is really about is my flight to Mpls, and my flight back from Mpls.

I booked my trip through Expedia.com, and props to them for their great service, so they weren't my problem. My issue is with AirTran. I had some minor setbacks in booking my trip, but I'm not really trying to point any fingers here or there. Essentially, I unintenionally delayed my booking of the trip by about three weeks, due to the involvement of other parties. Not a single party, but a few different ones.

Rather than having a direct flight to the Twin Cities, I ended up stuck on a connecting flight. That's partially my fault, because I opted to spend less money, rather than shelling out an additional $60 or so, to which I later regretted. The flight was to take me from Philly, to Atlanta, GA, to Mpls. The return trip was the exact opposite.

I boarded the plane in Philadelphia, and as the plane was about to take off, the captain announces to all of the passangers that the ceiling has fallen in ATL, forcing us to stay put until further notice. They didn't expect the delay to be long, which is why I would have left anyway, and arrived on-time. Then again, I'm not a pilot. We finally left after I have no clue how long, and made our way down to Georgia. Reaching our destination, I made my way off the plane, but had to run from one terminal to another. On my way I stopped to look at the Arrival/Departure screen to see where I stood in the world. Apparently I stood stranded in Atlanta, because my connecting flight still left at it's scheduled departure time!

Wait a second! My flight gets delayed, because of the weather, no planes are allowed to leave ATL, or fly into ATL, yet after the weather clears up, everything is back on to it's original schedule? I'm plumf***ingconfused here! I understand that delays happen, but for passengers to be penalized for something they have no control over, is absurd!

After the AirTran personnel told me they couldn't do anything for me until the next morning, I scrambled for a way out of Atlanta, because I refused to stay in the airport overnight, mainly because I had an appointment to keep in Mpls the following morning at 10 am, not to mention I still had to check into my hotel. Making my way over to the Delta gates, as they had a flight out to Mpls within the next 20 minutes, I asked for seat availability. The associate at the desk assured me that seats were in fact available, but that I may not want one after he tells me the price. Telling him that he has no idea how desperate I am, I asked for the seat. $379.50! I'll take it. I needed to run down the terminal, hop on a phone, and book the flight with Delta.

I watched the time on the clock tick, tick, tick away, as I sat on the phone awaiting the voice of a representative to aid me in my departure from Atlanta to Minneapolis. With about three minutes to go until the flight was to depart, a voice answered and took my information. With the charges tacked on, the total now came to $399.50! This is where shelling out the extra $60 or so would have come in handy.

The Delta flight was quaint in comparison to the AirTran flight, simply because it wasn't sold out, the seats were nicer, the plane overall was nicer, and there was no sense of clostraphobia present. I had room to breathe, and no reason to feel confined by my seat, the other passangers, or even the recirculated cabin air. Rather than a 10:30 pm arrival in Mpls, I got there around 11:30 pm, and made it to my hotel around 12:30 am.

The return was once again on AirTran. They were already batting an average less than Michael Jordan's when he played for the Chicago White Sox minor league team.

There was a delay in the Twin Cities due to snowfall, so the plane needed to be de-iced before take-off. How long we waited, I'm not sure of, but we made it down south with time to spare. In a sense, I'm happy for that delay, because it kept me from goint stir crazy in the terminal. The flight to Philly is a different story.

To my left on the airplane was a family: a mother, father, son, and daughter. In front of me was another family: a mother, father, son, and baby daughter. Behind me was yet another family: a mother, father, and child who kept kicking the back of my seat. Try to guess how thrilled I was. The baby in front of me was reassuring me that it's quite okay not to have children, as did the child behind me. Every once in awhile, the fresh smell of baby poop would waft in the air, taunting me, knowing that I had no escape route.

What really got me was when the stewardesses were walking about the plane offering refreshments, everyone around was served, but I was ignored. I didn't exist in this woman's eyes. I looked straight at her as she kindly inquired about what the man and his son to my left would like to have, then brought them back to them, but still neglected to look toward the window. At first I thought families were being served before the rest of the plane, but it turns out that everyone was actually being served—just not me.

Between the neglect, the screaming/crying/pooping baby, the child kicking my chair, being pressed up against the window in an uncomfortable seat, hunger, thirst, overheating, and knowing that your breathing the same air in as all these other people, irritability sets in, and it's enough to drive a man to near meltdown.

I have always loved Philadelphia, so seeing the city from the sky, was a welcomed sight. Stepping foot off the plane was enough to make me want to kiss the ground. And I would have, should Philly not be so damn filthy.

I called AirTran to complain, and as I suspected, they told me that they weren't responsible for the weather, blah blah blah, so there's no compensation or anything else. As for the lack of service on my way to Philadelphia, they gave me a $25 voucher for my next trip with them, which is good for a year from the date of the incident.

Hooray, a whole $25 for an airline I refuse to ever do business with again. Disgruntled people suck, because they do things like this, and recommend to everyone they know not to use a particular group's services in the future. That's pretty much what I'm doing.

AirTran, you lost a customer, and potenially a lot more.

Long Overdue

Did we really just elect Barack Obama as our president? Really? Barack Hussein Obama is the 44th president of the United States of America? As much as I see it on the internet and on the covers of newspapers, it’s still a little hard to believe.

I’ll try not to ramble on about this for too long, because everywhere you look there is some form of analysis regarding what just took place.

I woke up on Tuesday, November 4, 2008 with a good feeling in my heart. Figuring, “Today is the day that America names Barack Obama the next president of our country,” I walked across the street to my polling place and waited in line for about 40 minutes. After what took place that evening, the importance of that 40 minutes cannot be measured, though many will try to relay their feelings on to others.

Two beautiful things happened while I waited to vote. Both cases showed the magnitude of this election, as well as how much this day meant to so many people. The majority banded together for a common cause, feeling what was at stake, weight on our shoulders like a child during a lengthy parade. There was excitement in the air, but it was visible too.

A father stood in line with his son, who I guessed based on his looks to be just 18, and they waited patiently. The father grabbed his cell phone and began a conversation. Meanwhile, another young man walked out of the gymnasium of the school, passing the line of anticipating voters. The two men, recognizing one another, greeted each other with words and hugs. The one who was exiting the facility told the other to tag along with im, to which the father immediately whipped around and said, “No! Get back in this line! This ain’t that kind of party! Get over here, you’re voting!” The son disappointed, complied with his father, hood up and lip poked out.

The other thing that took place was a woman standing a couple spots in front of me grew weary of the wait and began to get antsy. She voiced her displeasure and made a gesture as though she was soon to leave without voting. At that moment, a volunteer looked her in the face and pleaded, “Please don’t get out of that line. Whatever you do, do not leave here without voting.” The man showed anguish and a great need for a call to action.

November 4, 2008 started off as a day of desperation for millions of Americans. The American justice system and electoral system has let so many of us down it seemed as though all hope was lost. That Tuesday was the day for all of us to prove ourselves wrong. And we did!

This past Election Day was more than electing the first African-American the president of the U.S.A. Obama’s election shows the change and progress that has taken place in this country for all people of this nation. All parents can look their children in the eyes and say to them proudly without feeling like they’re telling them a half truth, “When you grow up you can be whatever you want.”

Hope. Change. Progress. Vision. Yes we can. Yes we did.

I'm Late

I have an entry written up about Obama that I did right after he won the election. I haven't posted it yet, because I've been meaning to complete this artwork to accompany it. I've been too lazy to finish the piece, so it will have to come later. I really don't want to hold on to this any longer.

Like I said, there will be some artwork coming soon enough.

Thanks.

Today in Wilmington 11-18-08

Sometime in the late afternoon in Wilmington, DE it snowed for the first time this season (Fall), but hopefully not the last of the cold season (cold as in Winter, not sick).  It was a beautiful day outside while it lasted.

The other thing that I have the displeasure of announcing is that Souljah Boy came downtown to Villa to do an autograph signing.  Yes, the same guy that danced while rapping about finishing his business on a woman's back, then throwing a sheet on her as a cape.  And your kids love it!

The block filled up with anxious girls and children, screaming and flailing their arms.  The outside scene was a frenzy that I admired from a fourth story window.

Needless to say, I'm no fan, I wish he never came here, and I heard from some others that he simply signed some posters and folks were sent on their way.  There was no meet and greet.  No pictures with fans.  Just take the signed poster and leave.

Why is he supported?  Say hi to your fans, dude!

But what do I know?  I'm just a hater.  I wish somebody would Superman Souljah Boy.  That would be priceless!

Pheeling Pheverish

The City of Brotherly Love.  Yeah, that’s what they call it, but to those who have ever been there, they may see it differently.  Maybe not.  For those in the sports world, that title couldn’t be further from the truth.

 Philadelphia, the home of the Phightin’ Phils, the Iggles, Sixers, the once-known Broad Street Bullies, the Flyers, and the country’s most iconic sports figure, regardless of his lack of existence, Rocky Balboa.  This is a city full of love for its brothers, but with very little tolerance for opposition.  Call it a hive-minded mentality if you will, but we call it family.

 Even with the celebration of our beloved teams, Philly fans are no strangers to disappointment.  The championships won by our teams can actually be counted on both hands, but one hand for each team (if division and conference titles are to be excluded).

 

A short review of Philadelphia’s history shows that the Eagles last won a title in 1960 (lost title games in 1980 and 2005), the Flyers in 1974 and 1975 (lost title games in 1976, 1980, 1985, 1987, and 1997), the 76ers in 1967 and 1983 (lost title games in 1977, 1980, 1982, and 2001), and the Phillies in 1980 and 2008 (lost titles in 1983 and 1993).

 

In my lifetime I’ve seen the Phillies go to the World Series…and lose.  I’ve witnessed the Sixers go the NBA Championships, win game 1 against the Lakers, then throw the next four games, the Flyers have made it to the Stanley Cup Finals, almost won convincingly, then blew it, and the Eagles went to the Superbowl, led the entire game, then lost by a field goal.  After the Eagles loss, I fell into a slump of depression for a week.  The Philly fans’ dedication runs that strong.

Enter the 2008 Philadelphia Phillies.  

I started this season saying to my father during a phone conversation, “I think this is the year.  I have a good feeling.  I think the Phillies are going to the World Series this year.”  My dad being an older version of me simply replied, “They have to get there first.”  Well, they did.  And they won.  Convincingly.

 I have waited 15 years since the last Series visit, and all my life for a win.  The feeling is inexplicable.  The assumption is that anyone supporting a team in a drought understands the emotion involved in a championship win.

 

The evening before the second half of game 5, members of the Tampa Bay Rays, while staying here in Wilmington, went to one of our local pubs.  The Washington St. Ale House.  I’m not sure if that was a wise decision on their part or not.  The people I met were nice, and some got harassed by a few locals (Philly Phaithful).  All in all, it was a fun and exciting evening.  However, and I mention this once more, I’m not sure if it was wise of them to hit the bar the night prior to a Do or Die evening.

 

In typical celebratory fashion, the night the Phillies won the 2008 World Series, people flooded the streets, fireworks were set off, funs were shot off, drinks were shared, and cars were flipped.  Enter the parade.

 

I rode a school bus up to Philly with my sports league, the Delaware Sports League.  The day started off with a broken down bus (not mine, the other one), drinking at 9:30 am, and urinating in plastic cups and bottles on I-95 en route to the parade (yes, that includes me).  Once we made it into South Philly, we were greeted warmly by our Philadelphia brethren.  Horns were honking, people were screaming, first were pumping, and index fingers were raised to indicate, “We’re number one!”  Hell yes.

 

The second our bus came to a complete halt in the Linc parking lot, the DSL members cleared out with the quickness, linking up along the parking lot fence under I-95, and watered the sports complex vegetation.  Truly a sight to behold, the line included men with beer in their hands, and girls squatting in groups of twos and threes.  Aside from public exposure, the rest of the time in the lot was spent drinking and tossing around a football.

 

Everything else that occurred between our arrival and the Phillies showing up an hour and 20 minutes late can easily be told in pictures…minus more public urination (the lines for the port-a-potties were too long, so lines formed on the backsides of the johns).

 Our day ended with a certain young lady going to relieving herself on her boots, while another young woman dropped her phone on the ground, possibly had it pissed on then, tried persistently to get the device to cease vibrating and actually function properly.  Said young woman later said that her cell phone was now her second dildo.  Yes, she said her phone doubled as a vibrator.  Classy.

 Departure took approximately 45 minutes to reach I-95 from the Linc parking lot (I-95 runs parallel to the sports complexes), but the wait for the trains was much worse, as they were backed up over two hours.  That mob was beyond ridiculous.

 We made it home, and I ended my day with a pepperoni calzone and some hot wings.  Grease makes everything better.  Delicious.

 

Amen.

Dazey X Dynamite

The last post was about a series of skateboards that I did two years ago called, Rotten to the Core.  During that same time I worked on a couple more decks.  The difference is, the deck series was hand-painted, while the two in this post were stenciled.

There are no real explanations for these works, because other than imagination, there is nothing concrete that was of any true influence.  Maybe childhood cartoons had something to do with it.

Who would have ever imagined seeing a bee approaching a flower while wearing a gas mask?  Me evidently.  Some flowers looks beautiful, but it's all part of their perennial plan to deceive us.

And men in purple hoodies smoking sticks of dynamite?  Do tell!  You love it.

Dazey (left) and Dynamite (right) are no longer in my possession.  Both items have been offered to friends as gifts for Christmas and a birthday.

The photos provided are the only ones I have.  Sorry for the lack of details.

Buzz, sting, BOOM!

Rotten to the Core

I have these skateboards that I made two years ago. Many people have seen in their homes, in my home, on the internet, and hanging in a couple art shows. But that's just it...people have seen them. Rarely do I willingly, or get the opportunity to speak about work. There is a thought process behind the manifestation of these decks, allowing them to be more than just graphics.

Rotten to the Core started with a project I did as a senior in college. Long story short, on that project was a graphic of a banana. The response to the banana was so positive, I opted to go bigger with the banana, turning it into something for me to play with later on.

As I played with the idea of the banana, my mind started to wander, and I dreamed of a deeper exploration of the fruit. "What if I had a hatch of spiders pouring out of the banana peel?" Eureka! I had my plan—discuss the the relationships of fruit and insects/arachnids. Each fruit is paired with a bug that can be associated with it in some fashion. Each skateboard is hand-painted with acrylic paint on a California maple.

The first deck completed in the series is titled, aXc, or Apple Core. Pairing the apple with a series of cockroaches came to me easily. When I was younger, my seventh grade science fair project was to raise crickets in a tank, with their food source being apples. Then for almost two years I worked in a natural history museum in the education department. In that department we had a tank of cockroaches. Aside from lettuce and potatoes, the roaches were fed apples. I wouldn't recommend leaving any sliced apples out in your home to find out if this is true.

The second completed deck was wXc, or Watermelon Core. The name doesn't make much sense, but it doesn't have to. I have artistic liscense. wXc is by far my favorite of the bunch. What fruit would come to one's mind when thinking of a picnic? Watermelon perhaps? What else comes to mind when thinking of a a picnic? How about the invasive ants? The explanation behind the watermelon, as well as the next board, are rather simple compared to that of the apple and the closer.

I struggled briefly with pXc, or Peach Core (peaches have pits, not cores), not with the style of execution, but rather, what do I couple the peach with? Worms and maggots—while creepy and fascinating—are not insects. I eventually considered the state of Georgia and how it's known for peaches. I also thought about the Southern United States and how people complain that there are too many bugs in the summertime. One of the main offenders to which people seem to be bothered by is the fly. When any kind of food is left out, flies will rear their ugly faces, eating and vomiting in the same sitting.

Finally, what started it all, but also brought it to a close is bXc, or Banana Core. While I was working with the banana, I got to thinking about agricultural exportation and importation between the United States and South American countries. Sometimes in the freight comes unwanted surprises, such as harmful snakes, spiders, and other insects unnatural to our region. It's not always as easy as discovering these offenders in the crates while receiving the shipments. From what I've come to understand, it tends to be more about snakes and spiders laying their eggs inside the produce before it is gathered and sent elsewhere. Can you imagine peeling a banana and being greeted by a brood of creepy, crawly spiders? I can, but I wouldn't want to.

Stay hXc.

NWAA

If you're reading this blog, be sure to check out my family over at the New Wilmington Art Association (NWAA). We're an art collective comprised of people in/near Delaware, representing different ages, sexes, races, school affiliations, and artistic styles.

NWAA members exhibit their work during the Wilmington Art Loop series, every first Friday of each month in Wilmington, DE.

The NWAA is sponsored by Delaware's Dogfish Head (As seen on Reno 911).

Thank you.

I Shot a Warhol

What a name, right?  Where did it come from?  What's it about?  Well, I'll tell you.

First and foremost, the name, while implying that someone with the name of Warhol (Andy) has been shot, it has absolutely nothing to do with harming another soul.  That explanation by default cancels out any reference to the 1996 film, I Shot Andy Warhol.

Originally borrowed from the 2005 album, Felt 2: A Tribute to Lisa Bonet by the Hip-Hop duo, MURS and Slug, the closing song on the album matches the title of this blog.  However, their song was not about Andy Warhol or art, and even though there is mention of guns and violence, it's more expressionism than anything else.

I personally feel that Andy Warhol's work, while overrated, was progressive for it's time.  Some of his work is appreciated, but much of it is taken at face value.  If you screen print the Brillo packaging onto a series of wooden boxes then stack them like a grocery store display, I will not applaud your efforts.  It's not for me to say it's not art, but I don't care for it.  But I digress.

Regardless of how I feel about Andy Warhol and his work, his name is synonymous with art.  Even with my dislike for the late Warhol, he is still an influence, and without him, I would have looked to another as a muse.  I'm fond of Peter Max's work, but it helps to be deceased.  I will take aim at art, music, politics, and everything else in my sights.  There should be some [quality] stuff on the way.  Hopefully someone will enjoy it.

Enjoy.