Alright, I have to give up is

what you’re telling me when

I look a photographs

any of them at all, sometimes

I like the ones my friends take

Or the ones I take myself but

then thats everyone with every

thing.  Ugh. The Faux Intimacy

is really what gets me.  People

are just fucking drunk and all

the hazy lights are from the

lighting at the venue, none

of it is really premeditated

The Age Of Irony Is Over

A wise man once said, a week

ago as we both sat in our

studio and discussed contemporary

art.  Or rather the art of our

contemporaries.  My boundless

contempt for the jack fakers and

photo takers who talk of yesteryear

like they were there will stay behind

a smile so tight that you’ll think my

hair is in a ponytail.  Save your

watermarks, or just save yourself

save your hosting fees and the money

you spend on shipping for your business

cards.  Save that sixty bucks and don’t buy

shoes that look like Keds at Topshop

just because you want to talk about them that

Thursday.  You can if you want to but

no one will care because they held off on

wearing theirs.  Should I cry for this?

Really should I, I would like to consider

another plan of action but its really getting

harder and harder to discern what to do

in this present climate.  I get it, you’re hair

is slicked back, wonderful, this isn’t

fucking Chicago is in the 50′s.

But then again what really is so different

about it, nothing.  The speakeasy-ish feel

that you’re favorite bar gives off and thats

why you go.  Don’t you have to work in the

morning what are you doing out at 3AM

every night.  Oh you work late, from home

you say, oh you’re an artist assistant so

everything is fine if you show up with drugs

at work.  Oh wait but he’s the straight laced

typed.  Well then, you got a good one.  You’ll

have a good run for a few months and

hopefully you’ll have a show of your own

except you won’t because once you’ve stretched

in the morning, and pulled out the next sheet of

canvas.  You’ll see he stole your idea and its

all over Contemporary Art Daily – while you

have your coffee.

Not to worry fearless creative individual

you can take in enough noxious substances

to put down an elephant and still do the

running man until they kick you out of the club.

Newsflash, that may be the only place that

you win so just enjoy when its happening.

The dorks and d-bags that really want it will

give better BJ’s than you and fuck for longer

so just wait until they get old.  I’m serious.

Why break your neck on crotch this early in life.

You Can Always Do The Worm At 4AM.

No matter how dirty you feel for the amount of

money you just spent,  there is someone spending

far more and not giving it to a barkeep but

a realtor who cares not if you’re feeling down in the

dumps and can never “get your next one”.

In cataloging technology’s various effects on culture, Marshall McLuhan wrote, “We look at the present through a rear-view mirror. We march backwards into the future.” If one is to adopt this observation as a motive, photography has the equal ability to both inform, and simultaneously confuse our perception of information and history.

Utilizing the book MATTER as a primary template, the subject of this book is a consideration of how photography can create a paradoxical vision of science, information, and history. Written by Ralph Eugene Lapp, a renowned Manhattan Project physicist, Matter was the inaugural title of the Life Science Library Series, first published in 1963. Reinterpreted in a new format, the thematic arc of the original book is echoed, but augmented to highlight photography’s ability to illustrate ideas, rather than explain them.

MATTER is a collaborative book project between artists Jessica Eaton,Matthew Gamber, Bill Sullivan, graphic designer Mary Voorhees Meehan, and design writer Peter Hall. 

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Kokoro Studio announces “Lightweight,” a Solo Exhibition by Catrine Bodum
FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE

SAN FRANCISCO, CA—Kokoro Studio is pleased to announce “Lightweight,” an exhibition of new paintings by Catrine Bodum, on view through April 28.“Lightweight” is Bodum’s first exhibition in the western United States, and will include a selection of works in watercolor on muslin.

Catrine Bodum’s special interest in painting lies in the potential of layers, as both a literal build-up of paint on canvas, and a metaphor for time and experience. She recently transitioned from oil paints to watercolor, and now utilizes the paint’s ability to mottle, bleed, stain, veil, and resist on the muslin surface. Bodum describes her works as “containers of information.” As new information layers over what came before, the image is both revealed and confused. In this world, “different things can take place in the same place.”

These new works are delightfully colorful, built in thin veils where each color combines with others to make many. Under these vibrant surfaces, portions of unprimed, natural muslin peek out in contrast. The patterns recall other layered environments: tree branch after tree branch in a forest, paper and paste residue on old billboards, sea foliage floating on the ocean’s surface, the accidental composition on a painter’s studio floor.

Catrine has generously donated a piece from the show, which proceeds from its Silent auction will go to Give2Asia through Artists Help Japan.

Catrine Bodum is a Swiss/Danish artist who lives and works in both London and Lucerne, Switzerland. She received her BFA from Parsons School of Design, New York City, and her MA in fine art from Byam Shaw School of Art, London. Her work has been exhibited in London, New York City, and Lucerne.

“Lightweight” will be on view at Kokoro Studio from April 7 to April 28, 2011. There will be a public opening reception on April 7 from 7pm to 10pm. Kokoro Studio is located at 682 Geary Street in San Francisco, just a few blocks from Union Square, and is open Tuesday through Friday from 2pm to 8pm, Saturday from 12pm to 7pm, and by appointment.

When I first sat down at this keyboard I had the inclination to write the most venom spitting series of callouts and shout-outs I’ve yet to compose, but then something came over me that thwarted that, decency.  So this lost art is really responsible for which that is to follow – in that indecency, deserves no mention or lament and should very rarely be given a second life from the anger or pretension of the author.  In fact its my job to kill indecency one would say, with tales that display its faults or show its fatality somehow.  The point is its not worth it.  You know what time it is, I would have certainly hit this page with a sublime assortment of allusions toward b-list celebs and ladder climbers who’s modus operandi I personally have had issues with, and would have addressed it to those I’m soon to have problems with (you don’t want no problems, problems).  What, you ask, is the reason for this sudden change in delivery.  Tonight I ran to a Homie that has most consistently been a positive homie to everyone.  Yes, everyone you think you know that you think matters, no one has anything bad to say about this homie.  I’m always glad to see him, and its seems as though he’s always glad to see me.  We always talk about our friends and our futures, and I always find myself explaining in depth my absentia in his life, vowing to close the gap as soon as he spins another set.

Yo it doesn’t matter if you go to art school.  It doesn’t matter if your parents live in the UES, the UWS, the LES, or the fucking Hamptons.  Or for that matter, Santa Monica, San Diego, San Francisco, or Los Angeles.  It doesn’t matter if you spend a lot of money on shitty clothes, or if you don’t spend any money on authentic limited edition streetwear.  It doesn’t matter if you like The Black Keys, The Black Lips, The Black Eyed Peas, or BlackStar.  Nor does it matter if you’re into Sublime, Fastball, Lit, or Dunkin Sheek.  Again the lines between being a pundit, punk, priss, prophet, prodigy, prodigal son, or pirate also need not be drawn nowadays.  What I’m getting at is that you barely know what you’re worried about, inclined to think twice about, love, hate, or don’t give a shit about.  This really isn’t the time to be up on high horses on barstools in hotels drinking opulently, or down in the dumps on battered love seats you found on the street drinking 40oz proclaiming that you know more about the state of the world than the next suffering human.  Because that is just it.  We’re all human.  Oops.  Dosage of Duh pills available at your local Duane Reade now located conveniently in your bathroom.

No one is a super-hero, or a pop-culture phenomenon that at least one person either won’t care about, or forget all about when they’re dead.  Thats right, there is a slim chance that nothing at all may care about what we’re doing here.  My homie that I ran into is always about the Positivity, and when I see him I realize that sometimes I’m slacking on that tip.  Some people have no clue how to be positive, which is sad, but that can’t last forever.  Others have a faint idea.  Some straight up just don’t know any other way to be.  The Homie is such a character and it really is shocking to see in full effect.

Life is too fucking short to care about if your boss that was super cool is still cool with you, or if that cool writer you had a crush on for nine years before meeting them even remembers your name.  Or if your ex roommate stole all your clothes and your personality and is doing better with it than you were because their safety net is bigger than yours.  Or if that girl with the big eyes that deserves the most beautiful understanding boyfriend in the world, but just gets used wont date you even though you know that you’d be just her type given a weekend.  Or if you wanted to write for a magazine and it turned to complete shit; that it still is heralded for it’s “realness”.  Or if you had dreads before Lil Wayne.  Or if you claim to have started tapering you jeans in 2004 before GoodBye Blue Monday forced you to buy a pair theirs.  Or if you’ve been using pomade for years and hate how long the line is a Khiels these days.  Or if you’ve never paid for a Blackberry and the month that you do you get robbed for it, twice.  Or if you’re Canadian and you’re tired of people thinking your whole country isn’t cool.  Or if you write shitty art student graffiti.  Or if you play in a band with just a drummer and a guitarist.  Or if you do yoga and really are a nymphomaniac and those crusty bitches are ruining your angle.  Or if you’re a rich girl that can’t trust anyone.  Or if you’re a rich guy who can’t trust anyone.  Or if you’re a poor guy who can’t trust anyone.  Or if you’re a poor girl who can’t trust anyone.  We’re all human.

PS – It does matter if you mall grip or push mongo.

In my head jumping around
are images interspersed with
feelings about guilt and sadness
that make me fly, thats the
wack part

So I’m flying all around
a little stressed but flying
none then less, with no definite
landing in site just the goal of
finding you in this big cloud garden.
I have no idea where you are but
I feel that your close

Its probably because you’re down
the block and we dream at the
same time frequently. Whats up I
say descending.  You catch me in
the air and the bottoms of my feet
are still skyward. you embrace me for
a long time, until I start to level out.

You ask me why didn’t I use the key
I’m like, “I flew all the way here for
this?” You tell me everyone is inside.
I think they aren’t my relatives
they consider me one of theirs
because of the way you talk about me
when I’m not around. Your hat looks
funny with your ponytail; you ask me
if I want coffee or beer.

I don’t say anything
because the long summer
sun has successfully set another day
without catastrophe and I’m glad we’re
kicking it.

I’m on the list man I swear

you don’t know who the fuck I am

well fuck you then, I don’t work

here, maybe I wish I did

no I don’t, your boss forgets

about that time I grilled him

burgers two summers ago

and he opened up to me

Fallen juggernaught says what

pish tosh, pitter patter peter

tosh townsend in front of

the fish when we were kids

or was it the hat, remember that?

I don’t have to either but I do

wish you were still you

I wish I was still me, who ever

said you could trust a genie

Fallen juggernaught says what

get everything you wish for

before the Camaro and guaranteed

your at Arrow before the dj gets there

telling the bartender you’re most

surely are a regular, irrefutable yes

but another day weighs heavy on

your chest for reasons unknown

who knows

weren’t there, so I

spoke to your roommate

who said you were out

of your mind; you’d lost it

I felt bad so I left mine

and questioned where it

was when you didn’t call back