Jellyfish / Burning Man 2015

This is just a single photo series that i thought deserved a stand-alone, even though my camera phone isn’t great, especially in low light, so i did not do the moment justice — and that’s kind of the point of discouraging heavy photo-snapping on the playa. If you’re experiencing it through your lens / screen, then you’re no longer directly experiencing it … but I digress.

Anyhow, we were at a dance club, when off to my right i saw these jellyfish: fabric, inflated, illuminated, each one held aloft by a single person. I didn’t get a great look at the design, I suspect that the poles lofting each of them may have served double duty as inflation air delivery pathway, but that is pure speculation.

The larger point is these things were gorgeous and a lot of fun, and they passed toward and right by us, with one of them going directly overhead.

what not writing looks like

It’s not that I’ve been defiantly or consciously not writing; it simply that my attention and effort have been directed elsewhere.

With maybe one or two exceptions, all of the following arrived at some point during 2012, and most of them over the last three or four months.

paul ryan and ayn rand look gooooooood togetha

yeah. i went there.

mash-up courtesy of the original content:

source of the ayn rand shot

source of the paul ryan shot

both available by way of the creative commons attribution 2.0 generic (cc by 2.0) license … accordingly, this derived work is similarly presented.

Creative Commons License
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 2.0 Generic License.

pickles and kraut, muthaf*#&@$ !!

I have good reason neither for going dormant with respect to blogging nor for resuming even a scintilla of activity now, with this. Then again, why not?

Anyhow, we are going camping this weekend, and by we, I mean my spouse and myself, plus our two dogs. Plus about a dozen friends from the San Francisco Extreme Croquet Club.

(Is dormancy contagious? Did the club infect me? Or I it? I digress…)

Mostly owing to my better half’s pursuit of these particular culinary interests, we’ve begun doing some of our own fermented foods (pictured: red cabbage sauerkraut and dill pickles), and, even more recently, dried foods (not pictured: the glorious, jerkyfied end product of 3 lbs chuck sliced, subjected to moonlight marinade, and a work day’s worth of electric-fanned  180 degree weather — a housemade dried meat concoction so impossibly good, that upon tasting it only once, for ever more, just hearing the words “slim jim” will cause involuntarily projectile vomiting of your own entire head).

welcome to jazz blob on

blorp, blorp on the two and the four

hi there. welcome to jazz blob on

1. be nice. we all know that it can be a nutty world out there, but please don’t track shit inside onto the carpet.

2. anything that is directly from the world of jazz, or that is a close enough neighbor to jazz such that it can knock on the door anytime to borrow a cup of sugar is good.

3. guidelines subject to revision / expansion, but for now, it’s really some blissfully simple stuff: play jazz and / or stuff that borrows from it, and don’t be a dick.

this is a picture of my dog sam, included for no good reason apart from the fact that he is packed full of teh awesome

my chicken stock

my chicken stock brings all the boys to the yard,

and they’re like

it’s better than yours

damn right it’s better than yours

i can blanch it

but you’ll have to pluck

#redsox 2011 season: a food analogy


Let’s say you’re feeling a bit peckish, and decide to make a sandwich.

Not just any sandwich. Not even a really good sandwich. No. you’re keen to cobble together the. best. sandwich. ever.

Now, of course, tastes vary, and at the risk of putting my vegetarian friends off their tempeh, I’m going to take this in the Reuben direction, just for the sake of analogy.

So then: you source the finest, most moist and delectable corned beef imaginable. You grabbed your ceramic crock and hit up your farmer’s market three days ago, so your supply of farm-fresh sauerkraut is in great shape. Swiss cheese? Check. High functioning mustard? Check. Dressing? Made from scratch.

Now your attention turns to bread. You *could* go with that lovely marble rye.

But instead, you walk down to the train tracks, and you search until you find a pair of hobo turds of comparable size, weight, and dessication.

Arrange all ingredients between them. Take a big bite, and chew hard.

How’s that season taste? A middle packed with the very best, and bookended by pure shit.


photo via flickr user magerleagues

my sweet, wiggy cat

four more, plus sharin’ the love

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Especially owing to the fact that my blogging stock-in-trade is strictly of the low traffic variety, it’s always really nice when people stumble in and leave some upbeat breadcrumbs for me.

Found, this morning, on a recent post, a very kind comment. Traced it (and commenter) back to his own website, and nearly fell out of my chair. Looking through his paintings, several of the characters in his work are instantly recognizable and very familiar.

And I don’t mean that in a “hey, yer rippin’ stuff off” kind of way, but rather in a “holy shit, this guy and I are cut from the same bolt of cloth!” kind of way. Very closely aligned visual ideas and vocabulary, to the point of goosebumps. Note with interest artist’s story, in particular the lack of formal art training since the 9th grade (which describes me as well, right down to the same school year), as well as his moving into the arena of art-making only recently. Really, a nicely-timed virtual introduction.

So, thank you, Brian, come back anytime. And I’d defy any and all who know both me and my artwork well to go have a good look at Brian’s stuff, and come back and tell me you don’t see a resemblance.

(…and even if you know neither me NOR my artwork, go have a peek at it anyway)

Anyhow, I was reminded of the four-piece set I’ve included in this post that was lurking unscanned (until now) in my pile. These are the only ones I’ve ever done that actually have some provenance to them. My friend / fellow artist Julienne had caught wind of an open submission call for a show that took place in England. The gentleman who spearheaded the show, Craig Atkinson, seems to always be up to very interesting stuff, and I recommend a visit to his website as well.

I do not recall the name of the show, and the impressive volume of visual content — submissions that were selected, scanned one-by-one,  plus photos of the opening — has long since been taken offline as Craig’s focus was trained toward other projects and events.

But as I recall it, the premise of the show was to ask for original submissions of works whose titles were to be taken from the list of works that were in or that had previously been shown in the gallery. In other words, Craig put out a list of titles. Many dozens of them. Pick any one, and make a piece using that title. Or several. And it had to be on A6-sized paper only

(I’d previously been unfamiliar with the ISO paper sizing construct, and I *think* I’m correctly recalling the A6 designation, but not certain…)

Anyhow, the four titles that I selected were:

  • Things Supplementary
  • Notradame Catherdral Paris 1916 (sic)
  • The Fish Fag
  • Painting of Ian Grant
So, this quartet hopped the pond and found their way back to me. Of the four, Things Supplementary and Notradame (whose misspelling on Craig’s original list I chose to preserve) were selected and shown, and I remember how cool it was when the show opening pics went up, and I was actually able to pick out my duo among the sea of A6 artworks.Things Supplementary is of some personal significance in that this is the first appearance of the robot character. Have not worked with him in awhile, but no doubt we have unfinished business to tend to, he and I. Additionally noteworthy for me is my clear recollection of having had no expressed drive to, say, draw a robot. He just appeared, and I remember being so surprised by how fully formed and imbued with, for lack of a better term, personality he was right from the get-go.
The Notre Dame Cathedral one, well, that one’s just plain nuts, and as such, I’m proud of it. I thought I was being all clever and cheeky with Fish Fag, only to realize later that, duh, of course, dozens of peeps sent in drawings of cig huffing fish. Also thought I was being clever with “Painting of Ian Grant.” It’s still one of my personal favorite visual puns that I’ve pulled off, but alas, that one did not get picked for the show.
I continue to be amazed at the organization, the dedication to detail Craig applied simply in the matter of returning all artworks — in plastic sleeve — to their creators at points all over the globe. Glad that these made their way back to me.

no reason. just a fun tune.

(  … if you listen, very carefully, with headphones, you can hear that this is a vinyl transfer. i find that impossibly charming. )