kainotophobia

A world without secondhand stuff...

                                                  ....you can't take that away from me.

I'll run to the woods and find secondhand leaves.

NO ROOM FOR STRING...

                                       ....you can't be serious.

I'll find thread and double, NO, triple twine it to do as I please.

Take away material, but you can't take away ideas.

Take away freedom, you'll create longing.

Take away longing, you'll create protest.

But all along the way you created performance.

All this time, you supplied the material you stole...

                                               

jectigation city exploration

in the city
where the towers
once stood...
                            the met beckoned
                            pessimistic i stood
                            but the steps carried me in anyway...
                                                                                    entrance
                                                                                    walk through
                                                                                    sensory overkill...
                                                                                                               can't take
                                                                                                               much more...
rooftop surprise!
glistening eyes!
bamboo palace
built by the jungle twins...
                                                                                          ...pessimism within still,
                                                                                            atop the conclusion is aloof.

drifting...
down the way
there stands warehouses...
                                        riverside temples of art
                                        prestigious in some humble kinda way
                                        (dare i say?)
                                                                                                 sexual inuendos
                                                                                                 visual stimulation
                                                                                                 no, not giration...
                                                                                                                           sue williams...
next door
somewhere?
(the boathouse row of galleries)...
                                                   table top forrests
                                                   made of the twigs
                                                   that begot it...
                                                                              shuffle to next room
                                                                              a quiet gathering
                                                                              of the sisterhood masks...
                                                                                                                     solemn and serene
                                                                                                                     refined regality of
                                                                                                                 a ghostly commodity...
                                                                                                                        ...cecilia edefalk

inseparable roots

art makes me thankful for...

... speaking without a voice.

... experimenting without a reason.

... failing without degradation.

... thinking without minding.

... traveling without wheels.

... soaring without wings.

... knowing nothing.

... seeing everything.

... feeling captivated.

... reacting belated.

... fascination elated.

... vocals translated.

... pointed fingers turned back.

... inhibitions fallen through cracks.

... empty fields of wonder.

... children's curiosity of tomorrow.

... furrowed brows of confusion.

... masked illusion.

habit of nature

let's just say i hope things wouldn't change...

$1,000,000...

Trip to a few antique stores: $40,000


Trip to a couple thrift stores: $10,000

gallimaufry

the subtle interactions between strangers in a shortened frame of time

the still-life of a child captivated by curiosity

awkward behavior and body language

cracks in sidewalks as it meets with the curb

uncertain certainties

lucid dreams

clanking radiators in the winter time

knots in wood

bugs both dead and alive

the moments i come into gaze with roadkill (there's this strange beauty that strikes me with utter depression and woe all in the same moment, yanking)

erosion

corrosion

traces of history, hidden 

faucets

piping

peeling house paint

sleeping beings

atlantic city boardwalk in the roaring twenties

MUSTACHES, moooostaches

old clothes

photographs of my parents childhood

unwanted items

alizaron crimson

yellow ochre

greenish umber

unnameable sensations

initial meetings

automatic responses

focusing on eye movement vs mouth movement during conversation

iris striations

hair textures

backbones

decrepit machinery

conveyer belts

clockwork

bob dylan's words in his book tarantula

liquid thoughts that pour out of the mouth perfectly without too much dedicated thought

deja vu

antique stores

old men and women

eye glasses

piles

stitches

interacting without words

photographers who move like mechanic creatures and manipulate their body as a camera

hidden imperfections

percolating coffee

vibrating vocals

honest shouts

lower case g

capital Q

lower case y

the # 9

the #63

old cars, specifically el caminos

doors cracked open but never entered

suitcases, especially chartreuse colored hard cover

molding fruit

mold gathering on the top of liquids

racks of clothes, mainly sweaters, arranged by color and pattern

manic music

unadulterated coffee

uncensored children's thought process

canes

science of sleep

my birthday book given to me when i was 4ish

poppy

cumin

curry

basil

black pepper

honey

rye bread

sharp cheddar cheese

lentil soup

comb-overs

knuckle wrinkles

handwriting

torn paper

flip up headlights

light bulbs

pillows

abandonment

hansel's gretel

queue entrance into studio:

materials...ethereal:

 translucent fabric...

raw desire.

sloppy stitches...

random niches.

gooey gook...

grimy wire.

  antique gears...

porcelain tears.

ripped paper...

old tires.

unwanted things...

covered string.

found nick knacks...

 the consumerist buyer.

charcoal lines...

the undefined.

rusted nails...

needle-nose pliers.

old locks...

cigar boxes.

oil paint...

wild fire.

bristled  brushes...

adrenaline rushes.

wax covered...

rustic attire.

plastered anatomy...

roped calamity.

etched plates...

avid inquires.

to love is to fascinate with the unknown, bestow the brain with curiosity, foster uncertainty, and tame controllability...

materials...despicables:

 puffy paint...

not so quaint.

flashy glitter...

flashy copout.

duct tape...

creativity misshape.

acrylic paint...

not able to control.

frustration hits and has taken its toll...

(definitely want to continue on this idea within the next few days)

 

grandfather's radio

poppy & lil jesse

                                                      everybody here is a cloud- cloud cult

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=awTaN_1gQk4

running with the wolves-cloud cult

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tV2n0e-YQ6s

there's a dream... a haze that lays over my eyelids. the want, the need to revive the mustache of that italian old man i loved so...
FLASHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
a nightmare... the place of solace. the overwhelming flood of emotion. the grease and grime accumulating the moment i start to stagnate...
TANGLED!
amidst the two sensations... an instant craving for inspiration. the recipe for inspiration is boiling over the brim of a fond fellow and the percussion paintings of a cloud cult..
LET IN THE MOMENT! ACCEPT TRANSCENDENCE! ESCAPE THE MELTDOWN!
so simple so pure, but never a time i'm not insecure.
forever wondering> yields inspiration, pondering.
toil in the things you don't know, and one day you'll reap the secrets time has sewed.

frolicking frenzy

Some New York finds to inspire the creative mind...

Cecilia Edefalk Weeping Birch

Cecilia Edefalk Weeping Birch

Cecilia Edefalk Weeping Birch

Zac Smith A Show About Nothing

Jowhara Al Saud

Sue Williams 

extermination proclamation

I WON'T GIVE UP! I WILL NOT FAIL TO EXPLORE! For every opportunity that you find yourself beginning to bail out on, you must take on double-fold.

I WILL NOT ANALYZE! There's something to be said of the initial action of impulse. Don't think that it's not worthy of making. Don't eliminate what hasn't even been finished.

I WILL NOT STOP MAKING! It's easy to lay down the hands when you get that instant pang of 'i don't really feel like doing this'. Don't listen to the mania.

I WILL NOT STOP EXPERIENCING! Ignore impulses to numb the body against your state of being. Reach out and absorb the here and now. That moment won't show its face ever again. Learn, feel, fall in love, abhor. Once you do this, you've become fully alive.

I WILL NOT DOUBT MYSELF! There's a reason the spark has been ignited! Whether or not it will be the most successful operation is not the point. Investigate!

I WILL NOT FEAR FAILURE! Why fear it, especially when it can be your fuel? Failure can be the best teacher. View it as a harbinger of lessons to be learned.

I WILL NOT DISCLAIM! Accept every fiber of your being. It is your makeup. It is the fundamental truth to your creations. Reveal it! No sense in hiding what truly motivates you.

I WILL NOT FORGET! Don't forget the things that have happened to make you who you are. Reference them. Nurture them. They may hurt at times but it is healthy and will help you draw nigh to a higher realm of existence.

Make... make... make... make...
Push... push... push...
Absorb... absorb...
Soak...........................................................................................................................

Thank you Tina!!!!

http://www.fecalface.com

For all of  you New York City accessibles... Definitely consider this one!!!
http://www.teamgal.com/exhibitions/179

this has been replaying often, especially with autumn in our hands

At Last- Etta James

http://www.mediafire.com/?znd3kxwujnm

deemed appropriate?

NEW ART...
It's not very simple or possible for me to say what represents 'new art'. I've pondered and entertained the idea for a week now with the conclusion that art just seems to be old and new at every moment of history, the present, and the future. There's always a reference to old, hope for new, hope for a better, fascination with the worst, obsession with darkness and distortion, preaching the 'gospel' of the next mode of salvation.  The beauty of art is that there is always a rebirth of similar intentions, aesthetics, and so on and so forth.

Pin me down! Make me tell you something?...
Immediate Response:                
                                                           1.Gothic portraits of fantasy

2. Jeff Coons (Egotistical Art)

3. Stuckism (New to me)

http://webartacademy.com/art-movements-stuckism

http://www.stuckism.com/stuckistmanifesto.html#manifest

                                      

                                                                    Basket of Truth
                                                                 Charles Thompson

Seth Maguire Back from India

Charles Thompson

4. "Borrowed Commercial Photography"

http://www.moma.org/interactives/exhibitions/2010/newphotography/

In the meantime...LOOK at this!

NEW!!!! COMING SOON! 

Keep eyes peeled and cameras rolling!

conviviality

Start: Please press play... When Water Comes to Life-Cloud Cult
it's hard to track the beginnings down, what goes around comes around and you can never be sure where this thing initiated itself, but it rushes around circularly, winding, winding, twining around my obsessed mind and knowing that it will find refuge and sew a whole crop full of creations. the overwhelming children of imagination wander through the forests and I hear there whispers. at first, the voices are jumbling, mumbling muffled sounds- these are the ideas that push through the walls in my brain and eventually drip out my eyes, ears, mouth and nose. they're pouring out uncontrollably like water into a pierced bowl, cascading mermaids of nerves, excitement, and impulse.

slow down the speed, recognize what it is you're doing jesse...THEN LOSE IT! go go go, follow your intuition, your soul will take over your mind. let the mind go on vacation and travel to the memories of dreams dreaming and schemes scheming. hello poppy, hi mustache, hey clocks, take me to another time. I  want to go to the faire, the circus, the underground of misfit toys.

oh, what's this? a something in front of me? what are you little buddy? where do you come from? I've felt you inside me before, I think.... no I'm sure of it. your were the fire burning in my belly, the white noise in my head. I dreamt of you and instantly fell into obsession. it's happening again... I'm giving you too much attention, you nag of a thing, to want to know you right now is a burden. please understand, it's detrimental to your evolution that I know you. wait... wade... weight... I've released you from my grip and now the circus calls...

Belly up, bottom's down...

Finding yourself in an empty room is the initiative of a brave mind. While the absence of humanity launches trains of thought billowing into this abandoned station. Cocky walls... your knowledge is lacking and my tracks are beyond your stationary existence...

Anthropomorphic...

I'm getting closer to the fact
I've turned my back on silly things
I'm walking down that lonely road
And my heavy load
I didn't bother to bring it

And the sun shines down on me
I feel like I deserve it
The sun shines down

I'm hiding out where you can't see
Behind the wall in the back of the room
I'm crawling slowly through the dark

And feeling for a punch line
And the sun shines down
I want to feel like I deserve it
The sun shines down

I'm walking down that empty road
But it ain't empty now
because I'm on it
I'm getting closer to a hope
That I can carry and take home with me

The sun shines down on me
I feel like I have to earn it
The sun shines down

The sun shines down on me
I feel like I deserve it
The sun shines down

The things I deserve are found in my dreams, the schemes wind and intertwine with a thunder about them I'd be a fool to deny.