Dana King and Rodin ‘Prayer’

Leah Garchik had a scoop about Dana King leaving KPIX to do her art fulltime. I linked from the comments to the Dana King art homepage and was suitably impressed with her sculpture and her charcoal drawings.

Later that same day I shot this picture of “Prayer” by Rodin, which is a female tush — it turns out that the King piece, if you click thru, is a dude. (when you go to Dana’s page, what you see is a human backside. Maybe that’s her way of saying “television is behind me” or some such).

Good luck to Dana King!

cheeky self-portrait

cheeky self-portrait

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Juana Alicia mural at Stanford ‘Chicano’ center

Mayan Scribe, detail, by Juana Alicia, at Estanfor

Mayan Scribe, detail, by Juana Alicia, at Estanfor

“El Codex Estanfor” is a new interior mural at Stanford, in the ‘Chicano’ center, near the bookstore, by Bay Area legend muralist Juana Alicia, also known as Juana Alicia Araiza.

I wandered into El Centro Chicano, a student center that primarily serves the Latino community of students, a couple times in recent months and was welcomed by director Dr. Frances Morales and assistant director Elvira Prieto (una alumna de Estanfor y Harvard) on successive visits. I was also noticing, somewhat belatedly, that the exterior mural by Montoya had been reconditioned. Actually, part of the story of Juana Alicia’s codex mural is that a previous installment by her had been damaged in a renovation. Reminds me of the quandry about whether artists should expect control over their work or merely be fighting for the right to create.  Are all works ephemera, like the Tibetan sand painting? I think we should respect and cherish the marvels around us but not fixate on them — and here I am of course making a derivative work of Juana’s genius with my stupid cell phone.

Juana Alicia’s mural, which was feted at a reception last month, reminds me of the Orozco frescoes at the Baker Reserve Corridor at Dartmouth, but also the SF Mission School, including Barry McGee, Mona Caron, Clare Rojas and the late Margaret Kilgallen. I noticed, in the Cantor bookstore, that Juana Alicia is highlighted generously in the book “Street Art San Francisco: Mission Muralismo” by Annice Jacoby, 2009.

Makes me want to take a Juana Alicia tour of San Francsico, or make a tour if nobody has mapped it out succinctly yet (here journalist/blogger bleeds into promoter/activist/busybody con permiso lo siento ay caramba)

Makes me want to visit the Diego Rivera murals at City College or Coit Tower, which I’ve seen but cannot recall distinctly enough for my current sense of the world and operating system.

Maybe we can get a Juana Alicia mural in Palo Alto (along side, so to speak, Chris Johansen, Elizabeth Lada, Kathy Aoki and of course Greg Brown).

The codex can be read as a story, originating in the mind of the Mayan Scribe and proceeding through time, mythological and historical. One scene depicts the arrival to the new world of slaves, some of whom end up in the fields cutting cane and henequin (new to me, used for rope).

SlaveOther scene feature singer-activists and nueva cancion artists Mercedes Sosa (1932-2009) and Violeta Parra (1917-1967), plus Olympic champions and free speech advocates Tommy Smith and John Carlos, the Popul Vuh gemelos (twins) and much much more — a booklet explains the complex work more fully.

I'm guessing this is Carlos not Smith

I’m guessing this is Carlos not Smith

The full title of the work — fact-checking as I go — is “The Spiral Voice: the codex for Estanfor” which refers to the work of the scribe spiraling up to influence the other worldly events depicted in the scene and reiterated for instance in the voice of Mercedes Sosa and the modern day scholar/activist today in 5334 — it also reminds me of the Watson Crick double helix through which our DNA allegedly weaves our destiny.

Okay, mira, if you permit me a typical Plastic Alto digression I want to throw in here, or catch, this capture of Stanford’s Jeff Terrell and the winning reception last week. I have a soft spot for Terrell in that I met his momma at the Cabana Hotel in Palo Alto in 2011 — there was a reception for Palo Alto International Film Festival that overlapped with a group of the parents and kin of the Stanford players gathering before a home gain. Jeff is from Arizona — I am letting Juana Alicia guide me with a floated pass into the flat: we are all brothers, sisters, co-creators and co-storytellers of this epic tale, the universe, this time, perhaps repeating.

Terrell on the money roses end of a perfect spiral

Terrell on the money roses end of a perfect spiral

(If she can put Tommy Smith in, I can add Jeff Terrell. edit to add, minutes later: okay this is pretty random even by my standards but in fact-checking that it is Smith and not Carlos holding a box with an olive sapling signifying peace I learn that John Carlos’ dad ran literally with Kenny Williams dad; Williams the former Stanford football and baseball star and GM of the White Sox – -count the layers of irony and allusion there. Kenny from Mt. Pleasant. I should really complete the circle and add some sports icons from Monte Alban, perhaps from my fellow Dartmouth alum John Paige. See also the Codex Selden I saw at LACMA).

I did exchange emails with the artist who said I could contact her for more info – I was feeling bolder in that moment. I may end up merely posting here the questions I generated at the time.  I’m no expert just a fan.

edit to add, seven hours later, the sun goes down, dog has eaten and now rests her little blind head by my side: as I live rather nearby the University, I popped in on the gift shop of the museum and tried to pay the Mission mural book I mention above and the clerk, the young one with the feather or arrow tattoo on her arm, informs me that someone had just come in and beat me to it (which is better than beat me with it). She suggests that if I visit SF there is a store near the Precita Murals that carries the book. (which only makes me ponder going to SF to see some murals, and start my Juana Alicia tour, or my Diego tour). I settle for the Peter Selz book I had been eying and pawing: “Art of Engagement: Visual Politics in California and Beyond” and set myself down at cafe to flip thru it. Meanwhile, as is my bent, I start daydreaming about: the Jim Hardy sculpture I saw in Alameda (see below) and my visit to the Robert Arneson George Moscone tribute (see below, detail). I also rang Chris Perez who is an expert on Barry McGee and gave him an update on my quasi-fantasy quasi-reality about getting a commission for Barry to tag the Palo Alto Caltrain station — I had ran this buy an old basketball teammate who now works for CalTrain. Earlier, while in the shower if that is not TMI, I was imagining my interview with Juana Alina and a long digression into “permanence” or “process”: how permanent are art objects and the relative importance of the act of creation itself? Like I was telling somebody (the guard, a stranger next to me on the bus, Frida the blind cockerspaniel who doesn’t actually speak Ingles) that with the Heizer piece at LACMA maybe the piece itself was the act of dragging it to LA, whereas what we see is the residue, or scar or fossile or ghost. So in essence as the Mayan Scribe is creating all reality and a group  of contemporary Stanford students are writing back to her and meeting her in the middle so to speak, I am likewise, post-contact with The Stanford Codex, even as a non-affiliate, adding to the story, si? Con permiso.

Oh, yeah I also made this sketch of the Mayan Scribe, after JAA

Oh, yeah I also made this sketch of the Mayan Scribe, after JAA

The only link between this piece and Juana Alicia is the Peter Selz book, which is political. I want to track down this artist, Jim Hardy and ask if he recalls the name of the Palo Altan soldier and hopefully try to reach him.

Hardy says that he recalled the man being from Cali but not Palo Alto until years later, looking at the photo and noticing the helmet graffito

Hardy says that he recalled the man being from Cali but not Palo Alto until years later, looking at the photo and noticing the helmet graffito

 

It is a weird segue from Juana Alicia to Arneson or Moscone or a gun so its understandable if she tells me hey hey you you get off of my cloud:

ArnesonMoscGun

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Danse Macabre with my former classmate

Somehow I found myself searching for Martin Kryska, my Dartmouth classmate who died in a car accident in 1992. I didn’t remember that he was at Anderson Ranch arts center near Vail, CO in residency at the time of the accident. Martin was a woodworker and sculptor, although more people probably thought of him as a Nordic skier and athlete.

I found a website that has footage of the top ten finishers in the Mt. Washington race, with Kryska placing fourth. I made this somewhat eerie still shot of his finish.

Martin Kryska (1964-1992), Paly grad, Dartmouth grad, nordie, runner and artist, circa 1988

Martin Kryska (1964-1992), Paly grad, Dartmouth grad, nordie, runner and artist, circa 1988

I am tempted to call a number I found and talk to the person who curated a posthumous show of Martin’s sculpture in 1995 at Dartmouth, in Hanover, N.H. It also appears that the catalog of that show is at Stanford’s Green Library.

edita the next day: I did try artist Pamela Joseph in CO a couple times and left a message saying I wanted to ask her about Dartmouth.

 

edit to add, three years later: Dartmouth archive has a nice photo of Martin, plus a group shot of C&T.

kryskamartin-at-dartmouth

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Take 4:32 (Dave Brubeck tribute)

file under: the joints are really flipping

(when I heard about the passing of Mr. Brubeck, I thought to post a video of a performance of Oranj Symphonette, featuring Matt Brubeck, his son, on the strength that this was the first of the Brubecks I had ever met, and when I started sussing around for suitable footage, I found a short film about Matt’s bandmate in that project, reeds player Ralph Carney — the uncle of Black Keys drummer, Pat Carney — and that same film maker had a clip about a West Indies Parade in Brooklyn, which lead me to this, from Martinique; for people who want more info on Brubeck I recommend Richard Scheinin’s story in the Merc, or I want to see what is in the Times. I also think of Brubeck as an early champion of the young Taylor Eigsti, who later hired some of the Brubeck’s in his group; I also enjoy correcting people about Paul Desmond being the writer of the big hit; also, how soon until another jazz musician makes the cover of Time? mbw)

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Pandora is evil, Linda is beautiful

Linda Perry, the song writer who penned Christina Aguilera’s hit tune ‘Beautiful,’ saw the song played more than 12 million times on Pandora during the first three months of the year. For that Perry earned $350.

(Credit: Greg Sandoval/CNET)

Read more of Greg Sandoval CNET’s reporting here. And here. I cut and paste the above of Linda and think of it as “fair use”. We’ll see how long it stands. I think of myself as pretty soft on intellectual property rights, if that does not contradict feeling that musicians and composers should be paid a share of a revenue stream that a public traded corporation rakes in off their backs. In the instant case, I feel I am promoting Greg Sandoval and CNET by re-reporting their ideas and linking back. 

I was psyched to hear just now on KTVU that Pandora stock took a hit. I was psyched last week to hear something about artists complaining that they were being used by the service which to me is like a rain dancer charging money for the rain.

The article I am ripping from above, from CNET, says, for instance, that Linda Perry’s song “Beautiful” has been spun (or whatever) 12 million times and Linda has gotten $350 in songwriter royalties from them. (Compared, for example, to the statutory rate of about 8 cents per song if I record and manufacture that song: a million bucks).

Also, related links say that the spurious Internet Radio Act or whatever (Pandora whining again, about its business model, and wanting a bailout from idiot lawmakers) is failing.

Pandora is perfect example of the fact that music does a lot more for proliferation of computers than computers does for music. If it went public at $16 and is at 7 and falling it means Wall Street and vcs cashed in and out and investors got screwed.

On the other hand, I’ve always liked Linda Perry and love her comeback as producer and writer after the demise of Four Non Blondes. I met her once at Paradise Lounge and she claimed we had met before: “I’m like Al Pacino, I never forget” — not sure where she got that. Then I wrote a weird, anti-corporate screed to her that I hope her management intercepted and trashed. I made a lifetime pass for her that I never got to present at either of the Stone Fox shows I produced. (I think I only gave out two or three lifetime passes; not that they get you much these days).

Re Linda, that she and her manager Kat Sidowsky and famous ups and downs, there and back agains, I think about apropos of my own clients and former clients.

Tim Pandora has made millions on these musicians and meanwhile very few more musicians have gone from starving to working class since the advent of 2.0 and all that.

edit to add, a year or so later: not buying the B.S. about Pandora buying a terrestial radio station in North Dakota to qualify for a better deal on publishers’ royalties: Pandora steals content from thousands of performers and labels and then tries to dictate the ransom or kickback. Also: the supermath algorithm metaculus is a lie, just look how quickly any path leads back to “the single”.

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life is so strange

life is so strange

(short review, plagiarized from heather desaulniers, about new work by mary armentrout)

read more here: ^ ^ ^ > > ^ ‘   ,    , hey look I made the little mark dance along the line

a little wacky and very specific, ms. armentrout self-reports, now thru feb. 23

edit to add or confuse: I spent the middle slice of a shabbat doing a little homage to Ms. Armentrout a while ago then wrote about it indirectly on Patch.

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Unusual as it is being an adopted Korean Swedish Jew

If it’s an okay (I almost said “aoki”) segue from Ai Weiwei below (and Kara Maria) to Rebecca Erickson, the self-described “Korean Swedish Jew”, I actually bumped to this because my morning email included a newsletter from my close personal friend, and quasi-client Beth Custer, which included mention of a Bruce Abbott of St. Paul, MN who bought 12 copies of Beth’s Clarinet Thing.

I met beckoclar at my cousin’s bat mitzvah a few years back and was intrigued by her story, and liked her playing. For a minute we corresponded about some kind of appropriate project to work on.
(the headline is the first 10 words of her bio — I was trying to recall to what level of confidentiality I had learned of her background — somewhere there is an article that gives her Korean birth name — Good luck, mazel, namaste to this spirit, under whatever pka…My advice, not that anyone is asking, is to change the name or go solo co-leader under the name You Betcha Klezmer All-Stars, I’m just saying. You betcha!)
I found this clip of her klezmer trio busking:

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Year of the Elephant

I defaced or de-penised the poster for the group show at Smith-Andersen when I delivered a poster to the buen gente at Stanford's El Centro Chicano

I defaced or de-penised the poster for the group show at Smith-Andersen when I delivered a poster to the buen gente at Stanford’s El Centro Chicano

This is a better likeness of Kara Maria's work, featuring the rock star Moby equipped with special penetrating x-ray specs, well hung or hung low at Smith-Andersen, summer 2012. I was going to try to sell the piece to Moby's team, via my acquaintance Mocean Worker, Adam Dorn, son of the Masked Avenger -- see how that  links, thematically?

This is a better likeness of Kara Maria’s work, featuring the rock star Moby equipped with special penetrating x-ray specs, well hung or hung low at Smith-Andersen, summer 2012. I was going to try to sell the piece to Moby’s team, via my acquaintance Mocean Worker, Adam Dorn, son of the Masked Announcer — see how that links, thematically?

This is either the worlds worst preview for an art show or a pretty lame fan letter. I can edit to add the actual details of  #@&^ upcoming local show; I think it said Feb. 25, 20&^ at Café DuNord in San Francisco. Maybe by then  #@&^ can be tricked or cajoled into drawing his version of a tiger tattoo. There’s also a great show here in Palo Alto – this could be a lame and confusing preview or review of several things – at Smith-Andersen Gallery in Palo Alto featuring work most relevantly of Kara Maria tattoo animals.

LESS EAR-ELEPHANTLY, SF-BASED ARTIST KARA MARIA HAS WORK IN A GROUP SHOW IN SF THRU DEC. 22, 2012 , AT ELECTRIC WORKS ON MISSION STREET AND SOMETHING PRETTY COOL IN L.A. HAVING TO DO WITH 7 DEADLY SINS. 

#@&^ and his organ trio will perform at Santa Clara University De Saisset Museum Thursday, April 12, 2012 to honor “Indelibly Yours” Tattoo art show featuring #@&^, Kara Maria, #@&^ and #@&^.

The art show features work by 28 artists including #@&^ (my girlfriend), Kathryn #@&^, #@&^ Liu, Kara #@&^, Kara Maria, #@&^ Aoki, Vanessa #@&^, and Helen Frankenthaler – #@&^. The gallery is at 440 Pepper Street in Palo Alto, near the giant #@&^ at Page Mill and El Camino; info (650) 328-7762. (these are all excerpts from mentions of K.M. previously on Plastic Alto. The “#@&^” grawlix is a self-referencing thing about posting on Palo Alto Weekly and them deleting it as obscene or ad hominem despite it’s obvious reference to at least two Ai-deas)

edit to add: I described this project and even showed my actual sketch to the actual artistKara Maria (fka Kara Maria Sloat) and she took me serious enough or indulged me enough to ask about production per se. So yeah maybe I could write to Hood Museum about lending Juan Munoz “Hombre” and letting travel like the mother in William Faulkner’s “As I Lay Dying” all the way from Hanover to Minneapolis in a carriage or hearse and then, so, yeah, can it hang from from the Cherry stem, so how, for a minute. And maybe Dave Douglas or Steve Bernstein can gather there and play Don Cherry, his music. But for now the piece is a thought-experiment (like a Yoko Ono thingy) or exists only in Plastic Alto. (And not to digress but last night a PBS doc about Mexico 1910-1930 and Eisenstein said something about “film and plastic arts”. What are “plastic arts”?)

wait, there’s more:

Apparently I share a birthday with Claes Oldenburg, whose pink Q lurks in the Cantor quartyard and does not look like a semi-flacid penis to me

Apparently I share a birthday with Claes Oldenburg, whose pink Q lurks in the Cantor quartyard and does not look like a semi-flacid penis to me

On August 12, 2009 Ai was arrested by authorities and sometime thereafter I asked Kara Maria to write something about him, on the strength of Kara having a zodiac themed print at S-A...pretty weak hand, I admit.

On August 12, 2009 Ai was arrested by authorities and sometime thereafter I asked Kara Maria to write something about him, on the strength of Kara having a zodiac themed print at S-A…pretty weak hand, I admit. I came quite close to posting this on another site but pulled out before it was too late:

I cannot remember is this is the thread wherein some dude calls me names and in response I go “Or, as Ai Wei Wei would say, ‘ go #^&^’ yourself’ which translates as ‘pound at et pointy thingy’ or ‘have you tried the mock smoked duck?’ ” Maybe I said “smoked mock duck” which sounds more like suck my dick which would of course be somewhat inappropriate but the run of grawlix I felt was appropriate in that it references both the Ai Wei Wei series of flipping off authority and his crab feed – -the words for “river crab” and the government euphemism “harmony” meaning arresting dissidents are quite similar. But this all goes over the head of the Weekly — I did remark to Bill Johnson that I am probably the only person who posts under his own name and still gets censored on these grounds.

Thematically linked of course is another thread and deleted post wherein apropos of whether to call a certain public figure a billionaire or philanthropist I compared it to calling Genghis Khan a pioneer in family planning (based on true fact that thousands of people carry his genes).

I am stuck in this moment trying to end with saying something funny about “dong” and “johnson”. Insert your own joke here.

Your brain trust is in your Dong-Johnson?

Getting back to #@&^ briefly I considered producing campaign posters saying GET THE #@&^ OUT which would have simultaneously referenced “move on” and GOTV “get out the vote” a common campaign acronym. That, or “P*t my Bu*t” which is actually a Vonnegut reference.

edit to add: apparently, if search-injuns are still credible, I am the first and only person to coin the phrase “smoke mock duck”!

–from our correspondent mark weiss in palo alto with additional reporting by groucho marx in tuscaloosa, who thanks to modern modem technology where able to conjoin this morning in their pajamas; that’s not actually true but it is true I am writing this from Coupa, have not actually had breakfast yet and am wearing a shirt in which I slept. I was meaning to research the Stanford muralist Juana Alicia but had some unfinished business with Ms. Sloat, if the connection is not too oblique.

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If you’ve ever had the shrimp and grits from Crooks Corner, you may also put Clyde Jones in your pantheon, and this film with that one of Picasso

Well, piss on a stick. If it’s just a link, and not an M bed, I ain’t gonna waste a whole post on it. Ok. now it works (excuse the foul language. I don’t recall ever saying “piss on a stick” aloud, and certainly haint previously written it. I recall first hearing it from a college friend, from the South, who later became a clerk for the First Circuit Court of Appeals, a lawyer for Department of Justice and partner in a firm in his home town, about three hours north of Crooks Corner and Clyde Jones.)

edit to add: this is post CDXCIV which is code for Clyde Does (sound of chain saw chopping) (for his resume)

edita, plus 21: gratuitous Blake Babies outro:

which only came out as I was counting my year-end totals and sussed out that I had posted about 285 times this year, compared to the CDXIV — which is what, close to 500 — all-time.  I noted that I forgot to check the “chapel hill” box — although my brother was in a wedding in the triangle area and claims he brought me back a weekly paper….kinda seems like a dream or an air chysalis in which I would glide over to Chapel Hill now and then to be dipped in a batter and slowly cooked in indie gooeyness.

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The last words of Robert Arneson (1930-1992)

“A huge muscular man walks into a bar and orders a beer.

The bartender can’t help but stare at the guy because in contrast to his large muscles, the man has a head that is the size of an orange. The bartender hands the guy his beer and says, “You know, I’m not gay but I want to compliment you on your physique, it really is phenomenal! But I have a question, why is your head so small?” The big guy nods slowly. He’s obviously fielded this question many times. “One day,” he begins, “I was hunting and got lost in the woods. I heard someone crying for help. I followed the cries and they led me to a frog that was sitting next to a stream.”

“No shit?” says the bartender, thoroughly intrigued.  He had been watching a Rick Steves marathon on public television, and as it happened, Steves was touring Notre Dame in Paris and the camera zoomed in on poor St. Denis, martyred for his beliefs, or for his weakness for bad jokes.

“Yeah, so I picked up the frog and it said, Kiss me. Kiss me and I will turn into a genie and grant you three wishes.'”

“Keep going!”

“I looked around to make sure I was alone and gave the frog a kiss. POOF! The frog turned into a beautiful, voluptuous, naked woman. She said, You now have three wishes.’ I looked down at my scrawny 115 pound body and said, I want a body like Arnold Schwarzenneger.’ She nodded, snapped her fingers, and POOF there I was, so huge that I ripped out of my clothes and was standing there naked! She then asked, What will be your second wish?'”

“What next?” begged the bartender.

“I looked hungrily at her beautiful body and replied, I want to make sensuous love with you here by this stream.’ She nodded, laid down, and beckoned to me. We made love right there by that stream for hours! (editor’s note: not to get head of myself, but this incident is also, some believe, the source of the expression that you cannot step into the same river or stream twice. You cannot, as McLuhan later proved, before he succumbed to the same fate, step into the same river once! He succumbed to a Succumbus, wearing his pajamas.)

Afterwards, as we lay there next to each other, sweating from our glorious lovemaking, she whispered into my ear, You know, you do have one more wish. What will it be?’

I looked at her and replied, How ’bout a little head?”

HowBoutALittleHeadsee also: Ferdinand Magellan: “I said, CAN YOU MAKE ME A BOWL OF MACAPUNOS?” (he was asking about the ice cream); I’ll have what she’s having: from Tucker’s Ice Cream in Alameda.

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