Absolutely My Last Retrospective

please enjoy this selection of images in the form of a transferable .jpg file

Something I thought you folks might be interested in. May 13, 2011 to August 7, 2011, Tales (not truths) by The Mechanic & The Handyman, Jno Cook and Gordon Ligocki, Valparaiso University, Brauer Museum of Art. Curated by the wonderful and insiteful, Linda Dorman and Tom Torluemke. For those not in the know, Jno Cook is an unparalleled artist with a sardonic streak a mile wide. He is a maker, a tinkerer, and thinker of sentences that almost always involve punctuation. Mr Cook has aggressively investigated aesthetic with camera's, computers, soldering irons, and screwdrivers. He has displayed his works with such great spaces as NAME, Randolph Street, Artemesia, and Tough. Jno maintained representation with one of the final Uncomfortable Spaces, Beret International Gallery through (2000) and then with Uncle Freddy's Gallery, in Indiana through (2009). Prior to Facebook Jno developed spaces.org the go-to spot for indy programs happening in and around Chicago, the site also featured invited artist's very early experimental projects with the web. Later on he assumed the caretaking responsibilities for the othergroup listserv. His work has been reviewed in the New Art Examiner, The Chicago Reader, The Chicago Tribune, The Sun-Times, The Atlanta Journal, U-Turn, Dialogue, and Sculpture. A sketch of the show can be found here http://jnocook.net/valpo.htm. It might be a hike, but the work is amazing in it's breadth and farsightedness.

A brief review by Martin Jon is available here at Gapers Block

Comments

Totem

Tonight is old. It's wett but current and bored. I'm watching nothing but stars in the often sky that happen... do... tonight is lame like old, young like song, even as blue... Equal after the sun, noon or scripted yellow you are to me... A we (as sound)

Songlet is Best

fig.0231) FizzGraf MT. "Magical, like a chorus of like minded souls in a froth of cotton fumes." Over fake doors, under refurbished ladders, gypsum board and bent yellow pipes offering us an unmade bed and a stained window. Our one chance at tomorrow. Magnetic guts from at least a thousand cassettes are strewn across the room. Hee-Haw style, fancy dress shoes cling to the floor like it's '86 all over again. Hee-Haw, goes the sound. Hee-Haw, we're closer then we were. Hee-Haw, it's hilarious. Listening for trains, leaning out over the rails like two people with no time at all. Better maps, that's what we need. We could use a melody for singing with this chorus; in whose curious presence more patients wait to be found. With hands over our heads, someone passes by and asks, "gender?" There's stars in this sweet tooth of mine and some atoms left from the sky, Tonight the whole angle of heaven sleeps without light. Ordering its coffee darkest, t

Whiskers, chanting, "swap me, swap me!"

Fig.32) Aging poorly We're just together, taking ourselves for a tidy sum of walk and now our toes are wet and cool in the Lak, beside a cool stone that could drive a modernist to their flint. There's a listening experience that feels prepared, "our's for now, ours it says! Here's the hammer and it's wrapped in its own design already. A union in time-space, this card is our greetings, our massive, our very patience is reflected in this resolve." Suddenly, there's a cut away and she's wearing the pants that I've made for her, slow blue like painted smoke . I'm thinking about her hunched over the kitchen table, something that's stuck. There's a carving knife in her hand but from here, it's the same as an old spoon. From here my computer is sitting on my guilty seat, I'm thinking about champagne and comparing it to a thick wad bees and wondering whats in it for me? It's an anxious season, filled with not enough of anythin

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