Goodbye

Today, in the New York Times , I found out that yesterday at the age of 82 Robert Rauschenberg passed away. This makes me really sad. As an undergrad, Rauschenberg was my first art crush. I loved his sense of play, his expression of the impossible, and his unrelenting pushing of the boundaries. His work, highly theoretical, never forgot to be human, and to have humour. God Speed Mr. Rauschenberg.



The picture of Robert Rauschenberg with his White Paintings (amazing)is from Life Magazine. Photograph: Allan Grant, Life Magazine © Time Warner Inc/Robert Rauschenberg/VAGA, New York and DACS, London 2006

time

Time betrays you, wrapping itself into myth. No way to stop, to see what is time. I find myself unabashedly angry with time. I try to hold a moment, and no longer do I recognize it, then it has past. Not unlike quantum particles, my mere acknowledgement of a moment causes it to cease to exist. The human mind, changes time as it perceives it. If I recognize the moment, the moment is gone, fleeting and but for a memory of that moment is left. And that memory is tainted within the human mind, connected to a million other things, and never fully itself.

The poor human creature, is left with nothing but memory, that fallible beast that is fragmented, tortured moments woven into a narrative that is only an unreliable simulation of events. Is it possible to catch time, to hold a moment? To remain frozen in that infinity of a millisecond? Or are we doomed, to constantly recognize that which is already passed, that which is already gone? Stare into the shadows of the wall, telling ourselves that the shadows are real, and the the phenomenon we feel is more than a memory of the phenomenon.

Ephemera

I love paper, the touch, the delicacy of it. It has a memory unlike any other form. If you fold it, it will remember, if you spill something, it absorbs it. Any act upon its surface remains. It will not lie to you. It just is. And yet, paper is ephemeral. Too much sunlight it will turn on you, yellow an angry protest to its condition. Stored improperly, the edges will deteriorate at an astonishing rate. It is not permanent, does not pretend to be. To work on paper is to work on eventual nothingness.

I think my love of paper, it essence, the memory, the fragility and the eventual disintegration are also why I love net art pieces. They share the same soul.

When something is put on the web, a version always remains, the memory of it stays.It also absorbs, much like paper. Net art can absorb viruses, spills of code. The access to the work of net art, is fragile, it is dependant upon outside influences; power, web browser, site traffic. much like paper is dependant on its environment for survival. And the speed with which works rise and fall in popularity on the web, creates a eventual meaninglessness, a nothingness made up of ones and zeros.

The ones and zeros, alternating binary forms remind me of the alternating cross patterns of paper fiber. Still, there is nothing like holding something in your hand, especially when that thing is paper. I love the ephemeral nature of paper, although I hold it, I know eventually one day it will be dust. And for net art, although I access it, I don't really believe that a hundred years from now it will still be there. Perhaps my skepticism comes from my generation. We grew up as computers were beginning, but we remember a time before a time when the tactile world ruled.

today

My life has been non-stop SGC ing as of late, so I haven't had alot of time to post. I get up early and don't stop. But it is almost here. I can't wait. Here's the link to the Southern Graphics Council Conference. If you find yourself in the RVA, next Wednesday to Saturday, it's definitely something worth attending.



On some other notes। Here's a pic from my new studio at sunset. It's in this crazy industrial area, a part of town I can never remember the name of. I kinda love it and am looking forward to throwing myself in there when the SGC madness is over.



And now for some other random photos from my sojourn to Philly. First is a crazy carnival truck I saw on the drive. I really love the idea of carnivals and often dream of running away with one.

And second, sadly, is an impromptu memorial for the guy in the Italian market who used to sell the wild game. When I was in Philly he would let me come and take photos of all his horns when I was working on the Horn series. We would talk about the quality of the horns, the different aspects of each species. He was really gracious guys. The Italian market is a little sadder now.

Installation views

Just some installation sots of my show before it came down. It's amazing how much work installing and deinstalling a show is.

४५ million and one

So due to a massive financial aid snafu, I am now among the those without Health insurance again.

Last year I had gotten back in touch with an old Canadian friend, and I remember one distinct conversation about the cost of my health insurance and the stunned reaction that I got from my friend. It really makes me sick that America refuses to provide basic health care for its people. I have not watched Sicko yet, I think I need to steel myself for that.

A good site worth checking out on this subject:
We be illin'~ a site dedicated to national health care

the image is by Ed Fisher at Cartoonstock.

Pics

Some pics from my opening at Artspace on Jan. 27th. There were 25 pieces total in the show. I totally forgot to bring my camera so these are courtesy of Artspace member Dan Mouer. Hopefully I will find the time to get over there and take some real pics. And on February 17th I will be giving an artist talk over there at 4, maybe I'll take pics prior to that.