Skip to main content


Showing posts from March, 2007

sketch (performance draft) name tag

This design is from the Book of Bobby. It was done prior to the millennial rollover at a time when I was reading a lot about utopia and structure. While the road to hell is believed to be paved with good intentions I reasoned that rational thought is in reality also a huge sham of crumbling cookie that could easily be illustrated by inviting a large group of prognosticators to a hotel banquet room and serving them coffee and baked treats but providing their gathering with no other explicit purpose. The name tag devised here is itself a deepening of the debacle's fiction that was intended for the gathering's invitations and not for it's guests.  Because it felt reducibly clunky I abandoned the idea for this type of plein air performance sometime later. However the thought of utopia would continue linger at the periphery of many of these projects as time moved along. Until eventually it becomes eclipsed by an escalating identification with themes of failure and abandonment.…

Cow Wheel, making every day ordinary...

Shortened to simply, Cow Wheel... Its from the Book of Bobby. This book is a large book of many blank pages that are bound between 2 slabs of smooth maple. On the front of the Book is an adhesive foil medallion of a cowboy boot adorned with a 10 gallon hat encircled within a lasso's loop. The Book of Bobby is a place to put things. It's a place for fancy intentions and Cow Wheel is one of them that was conceived on or near 2001.
Cow Wheel, it should work if its yellow but if it happens to be white then that's fine too (ca.2001) wood, cow, paint Cow Wheel, a life sized object without guile. It's intention is to strip the pretense of causation from the artifice of chance. It proposes a consistent and dynamic feedback of laughter resulting from the pairing of a wooden wheel within which a walking cow is housed. The constancy of this premise acts as a means for interpreting and potentially discrediting the model of dipolar theism.

love letter .002

My wit is screened in with a pen My love is not lost Constantly a blur I am Tuesday  I felt so pink. We talked all night about everything we could. There was an old and racist joke a wet submarine with a deep reservoir of courage and the last race that Paul ever ran in. We talked about the last stage of cancer until you cried and I held your hand. I was terrible, a drunk without shame. I shared my cigarettes and we cheated on your wife until morning. There is nothing to fear. God is lonely, just like you. All she wants is to watch TV, Happy Days I think.  You said, Amen. Then I did too. It was funny so we laughed at the same time, naked and warm.

self portrait with J Mascis for Douglas Coupland

At the time this drawing was completed I was sitting on a short red sofa in the Butchershop with the windows open. It was beer o'clock somewhere in Canada and I was thirsty. This simple pencil drawing is inside a commercially bound sketch book. Its subject is a self portrait of me standing behind J Mascis, who is in his favorite Alex Ross inspired Superman T-shirt and we're sharing our thoughts. Secretly I was hoping that in a distant alternate future long after I'd shuffled off from this mortal coil then this drawing would be found and it might be printed with a collection of Douglas Coupland's short stories. I feel ashamed for having dragged these artists into my morbid fantasy but, c'est la vie.

Rule .1) A bigger map is more stuff

Drawn to email scale, where this long always equals fuck you:
So what your guy is saying in so so many words is that he doesn't really agree with disagreeing; particularly if disagreeing interrupts his ability to say yes to getting a show in any space he chooses. But the caveat is that he might not except an invitation to a show if he hasn't like'd the work there enough to review it before he's been invited. What he seems to be saying here is that if he likes the gallery then it must show good work because he's written about it (or showing there). Good of course being his definition and a very critical one because it is defined by his thorough experienced and this experience and critical thought are one and the same thing.
What makes this even noteworthy is that an inexperienced artist that speaks poorly for themselves was pulled out of a bar to trawl your comments in the face of a community that would rather ignore you entirely. So let me pretend to be a crit…

A wad of Chan (FINALLY)

From didactic text related to the August, 2001 program:
How long does it take to build utopia? Who is going to build it? Most importantly, will the food and sex be any good there? In HAPPINESS, Chan reinterprets and animates the drawings of outsider artist Henry Darger (1892-1972) and the writings of utopia socialist Charles Fourier (1772-1837) to explore our western conception of utopia and the struggle to create a more equitable, pleasurable, and self-sustaining society.

love letter .001

explaining stuff pt.2

Buster, Finch, Robison, CHOnPS, drawing from sketchbook

No not random at all, Right away Finch let’s me know what he’s thinking about. He starts with the airborn scrubbers, Way up high in all of that punchy space above the clouds there are fat loopy chains of carbon. They’s got nothing to do all day long but gang up with whatever neurotic bits of hydrogen are trying to make time with whatever oxygen is floating around. No platitudes can keep the nitrogen from jumping the fence and making a mad beat for the jinky the sulfur. So they all set a date as timid Tuesday. That’s when the great catalyst called drama, the (equation+lightning=pop) happens. That’s when all of this otherwise inert stuff gets to meet Senior Phospherus and it all spins up into a whimsical new machine.
It's construction shouldn't be this exciting but it is, it is-it is. Because soon after it starts tumbling down like a rain cloud. It’s just like very tiny laundry being kicked into metaphorical hot air by a fleet of metaphorically sprinting gazelle. Millions of mi…

Bang (bomb)

This image is from a larger series of drawings that were based on great explosions of the 20th century. The intention was to devise a graphical lexicon that was immediately recognizable as modern without necessarily identifying as universal experiences. It was an important function of these drawings to be recognizable but not be relatable as pop or kitsch. The lexicon itself was to serve as the basis for a deeper look into the practical function and limits of collage.  This particular piece was used as the preparatory drawing that was then transitioned onto a tabletop. The final image was executed with india ink and acrylic paint with some additional support from gel medium to extend the life and the body of the 2 water based mediums. When the final painting cured it was covered with an acrylic clear coat.  The table itself was constructed from rough cut planks and repurposed plywood. It was situated in the 2nd floor kitchen at 1822 S Desplaines for a few years. Around the time that …

The Human Torch

12 step program (drawing)

When I moved to Chicago I had a small pile of cassette tapes and a shoe box that was full of charcoal and some gummy tubes of oil paint. I was a painter some but I came to the city for its weather. I wanted to live next to a park and have better access to public transportation. So I moved to an apartment on Augusta Boulevard. I've always kept books for drawing and writing in. They were in my backpack or on my lap when I commuted across town on the Chicago Avenue bus every day. Then when I moved from Humboldt Park to Bucktown the books traveled with me there. I was in the backseat and they sat in the trunk of the cab when I rolled by the Western Round Up for the last time. We went up Western Avenue and turned right onto North.  The apartment that AN and I were splitting was right there between Bell and Oakley. It was a smart 3 story building and my room was in the back of unit2 right over the recording studio. I slept on the floor and my books lived in 2 milk crates that I stole f…

A marvelous spray of salt shakers

Bus Station


welcome to Daley Land

instead of taking better photographs

Untitled (painted shadows) preparatory drawing for B'Low Me, The Fire Show (1999) group show

Oh such wonderful failures are we. This is a preparatory drawing for an untitled installation planned for The Fire Show at B'low Me in the summer of 1999. This timely little space occupied a smallish 2 bedroom apartment that was located on the edge of Wicker Park in a house set back from Bosworth Street north of Blackhawk. The main event for the Fire Show was several artist performers that had travelled up from St Louis. They would be displaying pyrotechnic based work along with a few other Chicago artists that were also invited to participate. The untitled installation in this drawing consisted of a wooden harp back chair that is painted red and superimposed with a black floor painting of the chairs shadow. Behind them was to be wall painting of an empty text balloon in both red and black.
The piece in the drawing was passed over in favor of another work, Hot Foot. It incorporated an empty bookcase and several cedar shingles each with stylized drawings of flames. These shingles …

pixle dust

Truism (from the essay, Willem DeKooning is Dead)

Just because we have the keys to every car Just because we can Lets pretend we're better than this Let's be better men Let's remind the world that it is part of something too That even standing here alone Our penises are here because of you, Oh Hey by the Oh Hey Gang on Turn Around Vinyl.
Astride the sunny bafflement in the tower of keeps, there's everyday spent above the dirt. There's every fucking day spent listening to Clement Greenberg whine and whine. There's, Woman of 1950. She's a great sizing of colorful slashes and brutal reversals on adamant thought in general. In the beginning Bill could draw but now he would make them dance and sing for the pleasure of his pony. Historical, meaning social, meaning political or right. De kooning would like that. He would.
He would certainly see the mantle as big enough for all. It's why Elaine married him. She likes his passion for the work but she loves his acceptance. The way he can sit down a pencil after …

Lady O'Lady hey

The river rises among everything It's the storm of the great with quick of it now It's the storm of the quick that is here Send my worry on to the farm but worry not for me dear I've got a restless heart that's been faceless and weird its seen your eyes in the rain and its laughed just the same Call me another then call me once more I've left out the door This is the side of my day that's random and bored, On we've sung this before. On we are here. Hands at rest my foot glides to its stop. The sweater's dark, it's dismal and fast. No, I think this is best, The light is bright enough to make out the six straps beneath your owl pattern.  The sudden swoop of the rock. There's loud enough and loud enough to fall. It's the nature of me, for sure. I'm not so sure anymore.

Drunk of the South

Sitting on the bench of the bar, really a sweet stool and drinking us some draft beers. We had us some Old Styles, some Honkers, and some rich and complex Bells with high and hoppy finish. Then we sat at this tall table for awhile, there was me and Jack and Francis. We had us a bright enough time playing with books of matches and trading some energy around, When is it all going happen?  The Range of the day wasn't as long as it could have been. Our deeds seemed short as well, school was only just begun. We had just turned nerd and were paying for the privilege, Francis rolled loose tobacco into swift white papers. I watch him and say something about the stones, or the ears of holes in the timeless tray of the day. I say, Blank in the park again. Not very in a pitched tent with the weather or not. Jack said, Dope. The sun, and then he laughed again and again. I think it's right. You know I looked into that. The whole thing. It's not always like that. The tents not as big b…

Living room with Windows (1822 S Desplaines)

A graphite drawing of PC from a notebook that I was keeping in 1997. He's sitting on a our green sectional sofa here. The sofa was just outside of AN's room at the back of the first floor at 1822 S Desplaines. We also had a pivoting rocking chair upholstered in velveteen that would have been sitting beside him just outside of the frame. A portion of this space is also visible during the interviews contributed to, The Exotic Body Politic or A Short History of M.E.D.I.C.A.R.E. a video that documented our time spent at the 1996 Democratic National Convention here in Chicago. M.E.D.I.C.A.R.E. or Male Exotic Dancers In Coalition Against Right Wing Extremism was a collaborative performance project that was developed with PC, AK, AN, EP, DS.

turkey season


A smatter