It Sparkles!

Atlanta based duo PerkinsWood have released a new CD that, despite the fact that I have a vested interest in the success of the product (I took the album cover photo,) is really worth more than a passing listen. In fact, it's worthy of grabbing your shades, putting the top down on the old convertible, heading out to Route 66 and cranking the stereo. Definite cruising music, suitable for gulping bottles of Orange Crush and feeling the wind in your hair - if you've got any hair, that is.

Son of Sparkle, the second release by this wife and husband team, is not easy to categorize. Just they way they like it I'm sure. Purely instrumental, the guitars and occasional keyboards weave in and out, sometimes presenting a humable melody, sometimes challenging your concept of harmony; sometimes causing prescient flashes of a future that features colors not yet visible to the human eye and sometimes triggering episodes of nostalgic deja vu. In fact, upon the first several listens I was sure that someone in the band was channeling Steven Stills or Jorma Kaukonen circa 1967.

Quite notable is the mixing and engineering. There is a quality to the sound in general that is solid and full of flavor - something that is missing in most commercial musical releases these days.

Stand out tracks include Ride, Move, Float Trip, Triangle Boy and the challenging yet quite listenable epic The Wedding Murders.

Real Pop Art

While Max and I were visiting our friends at a local bookstore yesterday, a couple came in asking to post a notice on the store's message board. With them they carried a collection of glossy post card sized announcements for Bubblegum Society, an exhibition of portraits of reality T.V. stars done in chewed bubblegum by artist Ben Harben.

Brilliant!

The show is at a local Gallery/Restaurant/Bar called Teller's running through the month of August. There is an opening reception on Monday, August 1 from 6 to 8 p.m.

You can be sure that I'll check it out and write a review. If you can't make it, be sure to check out the website!

The Deed is Done

What a day this is turning out to be! I'm sitting in a café, a little shop owned by a Jordanian living in mid-Missouri, connected to a wireless network with my laptop computer, writing a post for my blog. So very early 21st century, n'est pas?

The café is decorated with an old coffee grinder, an old roaster, several old silver and brass coffee services, two giant hookas and a series of sepia toned photographs of Old Jerusalem circa 1895. Aretha Franklin is playing on the stereo. Somehow it feels right.

The coffee is strong. The air smells of spices. I can watch people walking by on the sidewalk through the big picture windows, and there is a row of patrons sitting in plastic chairs lined up in front of the café. A couple of women, one, middle aged with a colorful tattoo on her arm that is partially hidden by the sleeve of her Grateful Dead t-shirt and the other with grey hair tied back into a loose bun, with a young but wise face, sit nose to nose right outside the door playing chess on a small wooden board with plastic pieces.

In contrast, right before I came here I was at the gym. I was committing to a year of membership. I realized that I was making excuses for not joining. Money being the biggest excuse. Time being the other excuse. Not enough of either. So, in the name of a healthier me, I joined the gym and I canceling my cable TV subscription. That will save me money and buy me time.

The place smells of chlorine and sweat and iron. The perky girls working the front desk are tanned and slim and oddly sincere. I think they truly enjoy their environment. The muscular guys walk in looking cocky, handsome and even arrogant, and they leave looking dazed, sweaty and spent. They sacrifice much for the look they've achieved. I have yet to talk with any of them. I know I'm operating from a stereotype that was formed by years of being the skinny un-athletic wimp in school and dreading gym class. I mean to change that. I mean to change a lot of things.

Just as a note, Aretha is gone from the sound system. Disraeli Gears is now playing. Sometimes it is good to have a little cream with your coffee. (Sorry. I couldn't help myself!)

So, it's a Saturday afternoon. I've spent money today, I've heard some fine music. I've committed myself to at least a year of workouts, sweat and, with some hard work and attention to diet, I'll get a healthier, better looking me in return. And I've been baptized into a level of the wired world that was cliché before it was invented: I've blogged in a café.

Naked or Nude?

Got my first little bit of heaven from my newly registered account with ArtInfo.com - this article makes life in the United States seem a bit, how you say, conservative. One of the bigger questions in my mind about this event is "what will be the bigger show? The art or the audience?"

"Daddy...Where do artists come from?"

It was a slightly skewed bit of synchronicity that, on my last birthday several friends came to my house to view a series of new paintings that I was preparing for an exhibition. One of these friends, Matthew Traeger, shares the same birthdate. Matthew now lives about 100 miles away and we do not see one another very often, but our relationship is one of those cherished bonds where, despite the amount of time between seeing one another, when we eventually meet it is as though little or no time has passed.

Artist and Social Worker, Matt Traeger. Photo by Stuart Dummit.

I gifted Matthew on that particular date with a print of a manipulated photo (seen above) that I had taken of him at our last meeting. He, in turn, gave me a wonderful multi-function portable light show and a poster of Klaus Nomi.

I had no idea who Klaus Nomi was.

Matthew, of course, came prepared to enlighten us all about the alien invader disguised as a New Wave performance artist. He gave us all an abbreviated bio and offered up a sample of a CD of one of Klaus Nomi's performances.

Now, Matthew is a social worker. He studied Criminal Justice when he was in college here in Columbia, oh, so many years ago. Matthew is also one of the best artists that I know. Although he produces very few traditional "artifacts," his true canvas is, indeed, himself. Case in point: he arrived that particular day wearing black trousers adorned with randomly placed patches of hot pink fun-fur. Back in the 80s he used to arrive at music performances that I and my musical cohorts were giving completely wrapped in transparent yellow plastic that was sewn together with copper wire. Matthew also has a way of transforming his immediate surroundings and living environment into an open ended art event. For a while, again, back in the 1980s, when one visited him in his apartment, one would find oneself in a black light illuminated cave; a room transformed by the use of black plastic, Styrofoam and various found objects.

Yes, Matthew Traeger is an extraordinary artist and, the most fabulous thing about him and his art is that he goes about it as though there were no other way to exist. The work itself exists, despite it's blatant artifice, as though it were meant to be. And now he was exposing me to another obscure yet seemingly important figure in the recent past's artistic landscape.

And so it was that weeks later as I thumbed through a newly purchased copy of Art in America, what should I see but a picture of, yes, Klaus Nomi -!

So, now I'm mulling over a question in my head: Where do artists come from?

Sometimes Things Work

In the June-July issue of Art in America there was a short article on page 51 about a new foundation that had been established by Louise T. Blouin MacBain for the purpose of "supporting creativity." Now, that seems right up my alley!

The website for the Louise T. Blouin Foundation, Artinfo.com, was reached easily enough, but when I tried to register, to "sign up" for updates, etc., I found that the internet form would not accept my information. I got an error message stating that there had been an error and that I should try again later.

So, I tried later in the day. I got the same message. I tried that evening from home. Same message. And I tried again the next day, using several different flavors of web browsers, and still, the same message.

For some reason, I was determined to get put on their mailing list. I was adamant. I scanned the site for contact information for anyone that might be able to help. I found the email address for the Vice President of Technology for the foundation. Ah! Now she should be able to do something! So I whipped out an email to her outlining the specifics of the problem. I was polite and thorough. Then, I waited.

I guess I was expecting an email back from her but, no. There was only the silence only the internet can produce.

Early yesterday I decided to visit the site again. I got to the main page and everything seemed the way it had been on my last visit. Then, I followed the link to the "sign up" form.

"Error 404. The page cannot be displayed"

Yipppeee! Something was happening! I disconnected myself from my phone (a required workplace fashion accessory) and leapt into the air and danced a little dance!

I quickly regained my composure, realizing that my co-worker's perception of me was dangerously warped to begin with. No sense pushing it. I continued with my work-place chores.

It was nearing the end of my workday when I ventured to try the Artinfo website again. I found the address in my browser's address history and clicked.

"The requested site www.artinfo.com could not be found."

Huuuuaaahhh! Never before had I been so happy at the dysfunction of a product. The thing is, I had realized that something was broken that I could not fix, and by a simple act of communication it seemed as though someone, somehow, was doing something about it!

I tried again last night from home and got the same message.

tick tock tick tock tick tock

This morning I get into work. I boot the computers, I log into the phone system, I check emails, I take a call.... Then there is a pause. I check the personal email account from which I had contacted the Vice President of Technology. Nothing from her.

I take a deep breath. I enter the address into the web browser. I press ENTER and wait.

BOOM! The site comes up! I dare not cross my fingers because that makes it painfully difficult to type, so I just visualize the online form working....there it is....the form is back!

I put in my first name and press TAB....I put in my last name and press TAB....I put in my email address and click OK.

Thank you for registering with Artinfo.com....

Hallelujah! Sometimes things do work!

Andrew's Apology

I take great pleasure in reading Andrew Sullivan's weblog, The Daily Dish. Though I don't always agree with Mr. Sullivan, being rather politically left of center myself, his insights are often dead on target or at least illuminating of the other side of the fence. Sometimes, as in his statement in the July 5th issue of The Advocate, he strikes a chord familiar to all too many of us who live with HIV infection. I urge you to read this short and enlightening example of his work.

Shifting Into High Gear~~

Okay. The weblogs are on line and looking more and more like they belong to the DEStudios family. The gallery has been modified so that the background color matches the rest of the site and the brand new air conditioner has been installed and the house has stayed cool during the 105 degree (in the shade) heat that I measured on my back porch earlier today. And guess what? The unit was installed yesterday and the bill came today! Now there's a company that knows how to stay on top of things!

This coming Thursday is the "wine and cheese" reception that the Columbia Board of Realtors are giving for the artists exhibiting as a part of the Community Art Program. I, interestingly enough, am one of them. This is the first time I've exhibited outside of the Art League since I joined 3 years ago. This is the first time I've exhibited in a commercial location - ever!

I'm showing six paintings, all of which are in the gallery. The "Window" series and "Canal" and "Ocean Interface" represent my most recent work. A very different approach to painting even if I do say so myself. You can find some of my most recent musings on my philosophy of painting in this blog entry.

So, with this great opportunity I have several little things to get out of the way: I have to write, print and deliver to the exhibition site a "bio" and I have to redesign and print up a stack of business cards.

I'm not too fond of the whole process of marketing my work, even though this web site, this blog, this whole internet effort of mine is a part of that marketing behavior. And when it comes to writing a "bio" for myself, something that I've tried to do in the past, I tend to get caught up in the minor things and seem to lose sight of the "big picture."

I will, no doubt, post the bio once I have written it.

As for the business cards, well, I've got an idea of how to make them stand out and still be dignified. I want to seem dignified. Is that wrong?

Otherwise, it will be a chance to be on stage and hobnob with people that have the money to buy art. And I really need to sell some art! Especially since the bill for the air conditioner has already arrived!

The page is back to its old self again and I hope it stays that way for a while. I have a sometimes bad habit of messing with the scripts and code of my web pages and usually end up destroying them in one way or another. I really do need to learn to a) back up successful pages more often and b) leave well enough alone!

The new air conditioner is to be installed this morning - I hope. Max and I had to sleep on the floor in the living room last night. Not particularly comfortable but at least it was a bit cooler. I look forward to being able to move about the house without breaking a sweat!

I realized last night, while sitting very still in hopes of cooling down a bit, that I had been avoiding thinking about and even more, doing something about one of my favorite topics and activities: ART. I hadn't written anything, I hadn't drawn anything, painted anything -nothing! Now, I did buy two art magazines the other day with the intention of gobbling them up and then reviewing them here and in the newsletter (which I have let slide as well!) But, did I do that? No. I've only flipped through them and then set them aside.

Then, this morning, I found myself checking out some of the posts on DE's brother blog, Scented Shadows and I read a particular bit about transformation. I realized that I am still quite actively in the process of reconstructing myself.

I believe that the last time I spent considerable energy painting I was working on taking myself apart. I was responding to images and paintings that I had seen, I knew that I was imitating both the raw images and the ones that had been transformed by others and I tried as I worked to separate those containers of awareness. As I did this, I noticed certain sensations that were familiar but distant. I don't know what those sensations really were but I suspect they are closer to products of a real me than I have experienced in a while.

Loving the act of pushing paints as I do, I am surprised that I don't do it more often. Part of it, I am sure, is the cost. Part of it is the large hunks of time involved in doing it to my own personal satisfaction. The primary reason, though, and this may be a conceit, is that the process of painting itself is, for me, a wondrous, transformative, magical and spiritual act, and having accomplished something concrete in it I find, like a body builder, I need time to recover. My body and my spirit and my mind need time to rest and rebuild.

Knowing about paints, brushes, supports and knowing about elements of drawing, color, illusion and perception and knowing about history, context and cultural positioning of my own work are all incidental to the transformative power of the act of making art, especially, for me at least, painting. Those other aspects of art can be approached separately and, if you ask me, must be addressed if one is to be successful as an artist. The essential and central point of art is transformative in nature and purpose. Transformative for the artist and, if the byproduct of the actions of the artist is successful, the artifact if you will, then it is transformative for the viewer as well.

New Look! Old Look Back Soon!~~

Hi Ho loyal readers! As you can tell, things are changing around here - again. I hope to have the old look back fairly soon. I've been "tinkering" with things and, as usual, messed them up a bit, so I'm doing my best to get back to square one and start again.

Please excuse the mess!

Upcoming blog entries:
Testosterone and the lack thereof
O Canada! (A good reason to move to the Great, Free North!)
Art Magazines and the usefulness of advertising!

My Issues With Air ~

A year ago last winter, during a particularly cold snap, one of the worst possible things that could happen to a financially challenged bloke like myself occurred. My furnace broke. It didn't just break, it died. It died a cold and heartless death.

I called around to find someone that could come out and make things better for me and Max (the Beagle.) I opted for a locally owned outfit that, despite their slick presentation, seemed like a bunch of good-ol-boys. Alas, they were money hungry and clueless to the concept of customer service. They charged $1.50 each for those little plastic caps that electricians use to insulate spliced wires. They charged me $400 for a new furnace motor and then, when it became apparent that the motor was not the problem they only gave me $100 credit.

Thieves.

Sooo, I found another outfit, some real down-home folks, and for a mere $1935.00 I got myself a new furnace installed and some great conversation and information on furnace care, not to mention about 5 portable heating units to keep the Beagle and me warm until Bessie (the christened name of the new furnace) could take over.

Ah. Warmth.

And so it was that the summer came and went and winter came again. The day before I was to leave for my folks' house for the Holidays I discovered a frightening lack of water pressure and an odd sound coming from the basement, a sound that reminded me of, well, water, rushing out of a broken pipe.

I went into the basement, waded through the lake that was growing there and turned off the water main. I changed my clothes and loaded Max into the car and we headed toward Grandma and Grandpa's house, leaving the crisis until after Christmas.

And so it was that I learned that the frigid air outside had seeped through a basement window and frozen a water pipe that ran near it. The copper cap at the end of the pipe had blown off like a missile and shot across the basement. As it turns out, though, I was able to learn what I needed to fix the problem on my own. It made me feel accomplished and, quite frankly, a little on the macho side. I got to use a blowtorch!

Alright. Now it's late July in Missouri. The outside temperature is in the mid-90s by 10 a.m. and the heat index is inching toward 100. Actual temperature by 3 p.m. is supposed to be 101, and warm air is coming out of my central air unit.

I call the pals o' mine that fixed me up with Bessie and they come out and, lo and behold! the fan is busted in the outside compressor unit. $280 later I'm up and running again. Two hours later, it's blowing hot air again.

Another call to my buds. Is it freon, or the lack thereof? No. The compressor itself has overheated and shut down. The vent is clogged with dirt and can't cool off. With a piece of high-tech equipment (a garden hose,) the compressor is cooled off and the vents are cleaned out. Yippee! Cool air! My house is a better place to be!

That evening, as I finish doing some calisthenics with the idea of improving my cardio-vascular health, I discovered that - alas - the air coming from the air vents is not cold. I turn the unit off and sit, sweating, in the middle of my livingroom floor and bury my face, dripping with oozing water from my newly shaved head in my helpless hands.

Then, as only the best of friends will do, Max came up to me, licked my ear and sat down, front and center, tail wagging in anticipation of an early evening walk.

This morning I called my pals at the Ma and Pa HVAC place and, yes, it seems I'll need a new unit. But, hey! It will only cost me about $1300!!! And they might be able to have it installed by the weekend!

So much for joining the gym. So much for buying my buddy's truck. So much for that new wardrobe and home entertainment system. So much for the new roof!

Alright. Time to buck up! There is life after debt! I just need to be warm in the winter and cool in the summer and be able to think straight in between. Think - think - think....

Of Structured Lives and New Beginnings

After a recent visit to my doctor, I was shocked to hear the nurse say as she was weighing me that I tipped the scales at 197 pounds. 197 pounds! I have NEVER been that heavy! Now, it should have come as no surprise to me inasmuch as I had recently purchased several pairs of pants that were snug at a 35 inch waist, but to hear it put in terms of pounds... I had gained nearly 16 pounds in the last four months!

Later that day, upon returning home, I did what I think many people do when they come to such realizations. I shed my clothing and faced the mirror.

Good GOD! I looked like a friggin' TOAD! Slumped shoulders, sagging pectorals, bloated belly and skinny-assed legs with knobby knees. I seemed hideous to myself!

Now, I have to admit that for most of my life I have accepted the fact that I am one of those many people that look much better with their clothes on than with their clothes off. No big deal. It wasn't as though I felt repulsive in my birthday suit or anything, I just was not Greek godlike in my body structure. I was far beyond that now. The clothes couldn't even hide the tire around my belly. I would never want to look at myself in the raw. (I thought about using the phrase "in the buff," but there ain't anything buff about me!)

So. I have just turned 47 years old and I'm out of shape and I'm feeling unattractive. Gee. I wonder what's going on?

Whatever the real problem is I know the solution. Join a gym.

I called around town, I looked in the phone book, I got on the internet and did search after search after search. Finally, I narrowed the list down to four possibilities. One was close to home and had a branch near where I work. It is also open 24 hours a day. Two have pools and specialize in "family" health but far from where I live. One is in the fashionable part of town and has all new equipment and is a tad more expensive - I bet the people there are equally as expensive. I guess the first one is the best choice, though I wish it had a pool. I decide to go in to talk with them.

I fill out a form, answered questions about my goals and then got shuffled off to speak with a membership representative. Nice enough fellow. Not freaky muscular but fit. Dreadlocks and a polo shirt. Hmmm.

I got a tour of the facility. Pretty nice I suppose. I met a few of the staff members. One guy was huge. Big ol' muscles. Very friendly.

Took a look at the prices. Not bad I suppose. I can afford it. I told them I would think about it.

I went home and started surfing the web again, this time looking at "body building" and "muscles." Wow. Now, there are some really freaky looking people out there! I don't want to look like that.... or do I?

...hmmmm.....maybe....hmmmm.....

Hey! I'm forty freakin' seven years old! Then again, I've made it this far in my life, I've accomplished all sorts of things that others might have thought were impossible, why not putting on some good lookin' muscle? Why not be able to use the word buff when describing myself? I mean, what would it take? Start reading the info on the web sites. Go out and buy a few "muscle mags."

Ouch.

I never would have thought that the culture of health and body building would be so complex! Percentages of lean muscle mass, body fat; ratios of carbs to proteins... testosterone levels! Then there are all the different exercises and the terminology involved: sets, reps, extensions, to failure!

I realized fairly quickly that there is a complex and somewhat exclusive culture that has developed around health, fitness and getting huge, freaky and ripped! It is a highly structured lifestyle where knowing exactly how many calories one is consuming, available from what types of foods, their nutritional components and their synergetic effects on one another is just one facet of the elusive jewel of the exercised elite.

So, do I really want to try this? It would mean actually living on a schedule, eating on a schedule, keeping records of calorie counts and number of weighted squat thrusts and how many times I've gone to the can. Hmmmm......

I began to make out a list of my daily activities. I opened up a spreadsheet on my computer and started to make a chart...day by day in 30 minute intervals. Up at 5 a.m. to bed by 11 p.m. (does that allow for enough sleep? Sleep is essential in the effective building of muscle mass!)

Now, I have to factor in everything....walking Max, going to work, 6 measured meals a day at proper intervals, house work, shopping, laundry, visiting the folks...and, oh, work out time -- at least 90 minutes 5 days a week. And there is yard work, studio time (for the art work) and home computer time (for the web site and self promotion...like writing this blog, for instance) and a whole host of other seemingly necessary things.

The result? Still not enough hours in the day. So I shaved my head.

Things Are a-Changing

Slowly but surely things are changing around here. I have recently linked my two Blogger blogs to my website and I will be changing their appearance to conform more closely to the design of that site. Also, I will be rearranging some of the posts so that the Dangerous Enlightenment blog will contain more commentary and the non-fiction writings and Scented Shadows will contain only fiction: both poetry and prose. This should help keep things in order and allow those interested in one type of reading material to find what they want without having to wade through the other type of reading material. I also have to do some editing. After re-reading some early posts I have realized that my spelling is horrible! I mean, I know how to use a spell-checker and a dictionary. SHEESH!

Unfortunately, I have not gotten the other pages up and running on the website. Lazy me. Of course, I could come up with all sorts of reasons for this laps in action but it wouldn't make a damn bit of difference, now would it?

...in other news...

My friend and fellow YES-Head, Dan emailed me yesterday announcing that he was getting tickets to see the More Drama Tour that had just booked a date in St. Louis. He wanted to know if I was interested in one of the passes.

"Jeeze! Are you kidding?!?!? Of course I want to go!"

Uh, "More Drama Tour"????

Ah, for those of you waiting for Britney's next opus I should explain. YES is a band, first formed in the late 1960s from members of various forward thinking bands in England. Through the 70s and '80s they were quite popular, especially in the early '70s when their stage shows were filled with lasers, psychedelic sets and virtuoso, bombastic musical epics. Welllll, the drummer of the band, Alan White, has put together a side project called White that includes the keyboardist Geoff Downes, who played on a late '70s YES album (called DRAMA.) They are touring with The Syn, a band that existed originally in the mid '60s that includes bassist Chris Squire, who went on to be a founding member (and the only member of YES to appear on EVERY RECORDING.)
To round things out, Steve Howe, the guitarist for YES is travelling with them performing his accoustic guitar magic. And, as an added bonus, after the three aforementioned acts perform, a reunion of the gents that performed on the YES album Drama will treat the crowd to renditions of songs from that record that have not been played live since, oh, 1979!

So, for those of us with an interest in such things, this is a real opportunity! Stuart is very happy!

Okay. I'm at work and I need to get back to that part of my life. More later from this end of the continuum.........