Sunday, November 22, 2009

Cheer - Troubadour 21















"The blistering sinus burn cuts briskly through the haze of afternoon cocktails. The new sense of clarity reconciles the sordid scene around me. A semi-posh men’s room, three lads wearing crumpled wool suits and inebriated expressions, all of us zipped up and jawing around the mirrors and inlaid marble. A horrific Lite FM version of The Most Wonderful Time of The Year wafts from the ceiling speakers, putting a tidy bow on the moment for me."

My new short story, Cheer, is live at the excellent Troubadour 21. It's a condensed slab of midnight black, holiday travel themed, humor. I think it's one of the funniest things I've ever written.

Monday, November 2, 2009

Rotten Leaves - Proud Music After The Storm













"I surrender my eyesight to the darkness and the engulfing low end rush. As my focus fades my gaze is locked deep within one of the dark obsidian walls. All definition of the world around me dissipates and the ethereal beings beyond the dark glass gain detail and distinction. Eventually I can make out each digit on each hand and the subtlest nuance of each facial expression. A nervous energy runs through the crowd as the music reaches a physical and emotional peak and one by one the ethereal spirits glide across the dark glass plane and into the three dimensional world of flesh and stone."



Rotten Leaves, a new literary outlet for the darker side of fiction and poetry, launched over the weekend. Co-founder Christopher Dwyer refers to RL as "A place where the cold meets the dark meets the fantastic." and their first issue delivers. The quality and variety of work is impressive. I like that they are using "dark" as a rather fluid editorial yardstick allowing them to play fast and loose with genre definitions.

My story, Proud Music After The Storm, is part of the inaugural issue. It's a taught little piece of atmospheric occult-noir set in a haunted Brooklyn after a series of hurricanes. It began as a test drive for some of the stranger ideas I'm working with in the current novel in progress, but quickly developed it's own frostbitten late night reality.

I would love some feedback, so if you have any questions, insights or gut reactions please drop them in the comments over at Rotten Leaves or right here. And check out the rest of the issue. It is chock full of night black wonders.

Monday, October 12, 2009

Merry Crowleymas



GOLD BRICKS
Teach us Your secret, Master! yap my Yahoos.
Then for the hardness of their hearts, and for the
softness of their heads, I taught them Magick.
But...alas!
Teach us Your real secret, Master! how to become
invisible, how to acquire love, and oh! beyond all,
how to make gold.
But how much gold will you give me for the Secret
of Infinite Riches?
Then said the foremost and most foolish; Master, it
is nothing; but here is an hundred thousand
pounds.
This did I deign to accept, and whispered in his ear
this secret:
A SUCKER IS BORN EVERY MINUTE


from The Book of Lies

Merry Crowleymas to you all! Though I'm not much of a Crowleyite or practicing Thelemist, I've always liked the idea of a holiday that celebrates the mad, deviant, paranoid and down right wicked aspects of our nature. I also like a bit of spooky Current 93 every now and again.

So lift a glass of Absinthe tonight for old wretched Al and maybe let those dark and devious demons that haunt the shadows of your psyche loose in the world if only for an evening.



















Suggested Crowleymas reading – Liber Al Vel Legis (The Book of The Law) as well as Crowleymas 1974 from RAW's Cosmic Trigger.

"why does the gnosis always get busted? Every single time the energy is raised and large-scale group illuminations are occurring, the local branch of the Inquisition kills it dead. Why, why, why?"

from Crowleymas 1974

To quote Unkle Dick: "May your Crowlymass be filled with good strong wine, an opiate or three and some good old fashioned buggery!"

Wednesday, October 7, 2009

think-make-think



Artist Clifton Burt's riff on a John Maeda blog haiku, its creation a direct extension of its message.

I'm going to take this as my mantra and statment of purpose through the dark months.

Monday, October 5, 2009

High End Contrast - Murakami and Anslem Reyles



Gagosian's 24th street gallery is currently host to a striking contrast in contemporary art styles. The majority of the gallery contains a solo show titled Monochrome Generation by German artist Anselm Reyle. The show contains many over-sized, expensively fabricated sculptural elements made of shiny chrome and affixed with led lights. I'm sure are these destined for a life sparkling up the lobby of some faceless multi-national finance company.

The wall pieces created from found objects are slightly more inetersting but the selection of objects, bits of machinery, chain linkage, and bottle caps, is pretty uninspired and the homogenizing nature of the monochroming process removes any of their life and interest. The uninspired spectacle is capped off with a haphazard pile of hay bales constucted of silver tinsel that appear to have escaped from the Christmas party in Less Than Zero. Though Calrygirl and I did get a kick out of the lone bale found in a separate room under plexiglas as if it had to be quarantined from the others for anti-social behavior. Over all the collection yields little more than a cluttered gallery full of tired design objects whose only remarkable features are gloss and scale. The experience left me not only unengaged and uninspired but repulsed and in a strange way personally offended.



Tucked away the gallery's front room, in striking contrast, is Takashi Murakami's Picture of Fate: I Am But a Fisherman Who Angles In the Darkness of His Mind, a large enchanting mural based on the China-Lion mythology of Japanese Buddhism. Murakami is no stranger to audacious fabrications with big price tags. He is one of the most succesful artists in the world has over the top shows up in seemingly every major city at the moment. But in contrast to the pop and shine of Reyle's work this single painting, given a room of it's own to breathe, is intimate and inviting.

The layered detail work of the painting's background, the result of the melding of classical techniques with cutting edge technology, would be remarkable on it's own. The color pallet is soft but vibrant and closer inspection yields meticulus detail. The main image does what Murakami does best, entangling the adorable with darka nd severe. It teases our intimate reactions and desires until we are left pondering the sublime. The cartoon skulls, a hallmark of the Murakami visual lexicon, here in a massive pile carry both the weight and comical inevitability of our mortality. Their comedic/grim dicotomy as striking an image of death as the fierce/adorable lion cubs are symobls of youth and rebirth.

Friday, September 25, 2009

Double J Guest Post



While most contemporary conceptual art has as much connection to the old masters as a Hannah Montana pop hit has to Beethoven, many of the young artists in the underground draw inspiration from the history of western figurative painting not simply in content but with the fine attention to detail and composition the arts establishment has typically rejected over the last few decades.


I have a guest post up at the fabulous Just Jen blog wherein I riff on underground art and the work of Simpkins, Early and James Roper.

If you are not reading Jen's blog on the regular I suggest you remedy that sharpish, especially if you, like me, enjoy a little smart discussion on art and culture but don't have the time for snobbery and ego stroking.

Thursday, September 24, 2009

Diego Velazquez - Portrait of Pope Innocent X (Francis Bacon remix)



"Bacon’s scream is the operation through which the entire body escapes through the mouth." -- Gilles Deleuze

Between 1949 and 1964 Francis Bacon created a series of some forty five paintings that remixed and versioned Velasquez's Portrait of Pope Innocent X. Of these many variations on a theme, 1953's Study after Velasquez's Portrait of Pope Innocent X is perhaps my personal favorite. It sits early enough in the series to channel the power of Velasquez's portrait yet far enough along to have as much connection with Bacon's earlier versions (Head VI in partuicular) as with the original.

Bacon claimed never to have seen the Velasquez in person and judging by the books in print at the time it is assumed that he may only have seen the painting in mono-types (supposedly this is how he mistakenly used purple for the pope's robes). As common practice Bacon would take photos or prints that he used as reference and tear, cut and paint on them. He used these modified copies as a more traditional artist would use preliminary sketches.



In electronic music a good remix is one that takes a small sound or moment of the original, a drum fill or synth hook, and draws it out, expanding it into a entirely new piece of music while often re-editing or dubbing out those features of the original that are most prominent. In Study after Velasquez Bacon takes some of the original paintings traits, most prominently the geometric composition of the chair, the sitting pope's posture and the remarkable use of light. He then blurs and removes, dubs out, the figure's engaging if cool gaze and expressively clenched hands. Even to a viewer who has never seen the Velasquez these omissions draw immediate attention. Traditional portraits not only have eyes and hands but they are normally the vehicle through which the painter presents the inner life of the subject. Here they are erased and the viewer is instead presented with a jarringly expressive mouth in full shriek.



This leads us to the often cited Deleuze quote above. What happens when a screaming mouth repalces the eyes as the entrance to intimate knowledge of a subject? (As an interesting aside the scream here is understood to be referenced from the nurse's primal scream in the film Battleship Potemkin an recurring image used by Bacon.) This replacement of organs results in a type of inversion to how the work is viewed. Through the eyes a viewer can glimpse the intellectual life of Velasquez's pope. She can see the wheels turning in his head as the cliche goes. This interacation draws the viewer in to the image, engages her. In Bacon's painting the eyes are blurred beyond recognition and instead the viewer is challenged by the bared teeth and impenetrable emptiness of the screaming mouth. Instead of being drawn in we are repulsed. Instead pondering the intellectual intricacies of the pope's conscious mind we are attacked by the primal nature of an extreme physicality. The eyes are instruments of removed perception, they do not physically effect the outside world. The mouth however is an instrument of consumption that can have a destructive effect on the world outside the body.

Through his act of erasure and reconstruction, Bacon takes the intellectual piety found in Valesquez's original and replaces it with a much more animalistic view of human nature. That the pope remains dressed in all his regalia makes this contrast all the more immediate. He further tranforms the orginal image by flattening the scene down in to only two dimensions. Where in the Velasquez the precision of perspective highlights the otherness of the subject, in Bacon's version all perspective is flattened and compressed. The background curtain, the foreground chair and the pope himself exist on the same plane. The hierarchy that places man above his surroundings, let alone pope above his subjects, is destroyed. Instead all things are portrayed as interconnected equals.

To return to my example of the remix in music, in dub reggae it is a common technique of the producer to load several distinct parts of a song on to a single channel on the mixing desk. The lead guitar, keyboard, bass, etc. are no longer kept separate in the mixdown. The result is an over-saturation of the sound. Paradoxically this technique does not leave the arrangement sounding crowded but instead opens up space within the song giving it extra dimension. In Bacon's Study after Velasquez, he takes the background and foreground components and compresses them on to a simgle plain. Instead of giving the painting a cluttered or crowded composition the technique opens up a dark void within the painting that is nowhere in Valsqeuz's original. In Study after Velasquez's Portrait of Pope Innocent Bacon fills this viod with an arresting primal scream.