Monthly Archives: November 2011

MY FRIEND TRAVIS ASKED ME to make something for his art gallery. It’s not exactly a gallery, but an extra room where he has shows. Maybe not “shows” so much as house parties where there’s art. Not having attended before, I can’t even say it’s about art per se. All this will have to be confirmed.

The assignment, dubbed “November 14-20,” is strict yet open-ended: document those days any way I want. And make it fit in a 12-inch cube. We gather on December 8th to see people’s weeks.

My blog, camera, and Facebook are sufficiently snore-inducing chronicles of my comings and goings. Rather than mining or duplicating those efforts, I went non-journalistic and, more importantly to me, non-digital. My unifying principle was Do what I like to do (but usually don’t): draw, collect, and cobble things together using materials and processes I have at hand.

What’s the opposite of a Status Update? I’m going for that.

These seven collages are made from scraps of my days—picked, sketched, assembled, and Xeroxed haphazardly. With some hindsight and luck, maybe they’ll resolve into coherence. Or just as likely not. Which makes them true to life.

>> Elvis Costello – Strict Time

LAST TUESDAY I IMAGINED MY LAPTOP WAS STOLEN. I came out of the grocery with my eggs, cheese, and French Roast to find the bag wasn’t in my car. Only after I made several panicky calls, cruised the vicinity for a perp, and stopped to report it at the police station did I grasp that I’d left it at home.

The depth of my delusion was breathtaking. I jumped to a far-fetched conclusion—teens! prowling the co-op lot! burgling soft-headed patrons too trusting to lock up!—when reality was much more plausible.

Competence and control are my stock-in-trade. I deliver what’s expected with no drama. I avoid risk and stick to routine. While I can overreact when things go wrong, I generally hold it together even when others can’t. It’s about the only part of the Male Archetype I’m good with.

And yet I lose my marbles. It’s an not an altogether unwelcome reminder. Steely reliability can’t last forever, and it’s hardly the most lovable gift a guy can be known for. On the eve of my 38th year, maybe it’s time I get in touch with my inner buffoon—worry less about self-possession and laugh more at my follies and false conceits. (While I still have a choice, right?)

This is something I made for my newest friend, Louis Royal Martin, age 1 month. Aside from my usual technical hackery, there’s a mismatched piece that now seems glaring. See it? How did I miss that? I’m losing my goddamned mind.

>> NEU! – Crazy
>> Nico – Afraid