Thursday, October 15, 2009
Wac Blog
He painted the piece with his feet, by globbing the oils with his toes and draging them around the piece by swinging from a rope.
The artist Jiro Yoshihara said that Kazuo Shiraga was "nobody if he didn't paint with his feet". It raieses the question, if the creative process wasn't there, would we see the piece differently? Because this art is for art's sake, I can't find an objective in the creation. I think the creation is a reflection on the creator inevitably. That is the only meaining I can see behind someone swinging on a rope smearing blogs around with his feet. When it comes to action painting I think it can get a little boring. I wouldn't pay money to watch someone paint with his feet.
The Piece
http://collections.walkerart.org/item/enlarge_fs.html?type=object&id=8482&image_num=1
An article on Kazuo
http://www.independent.co.uk/news/obituaries/kazuo-shiraga-avantgarde-artist-who-painted-barefoot-and-hanging-from-a-rope-815381.html
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Secret Life of Objects
Monday, September 28, 2009
Hidden Gallery
Friday, September 25, 2009
Live and Local



On September 24th I took part in a live art show, and had a small display of paintings at The Loft in MPLS. There were allot of bands that played;
Friday, September 18, 2009
MIA Visit
Lucian’s Journey
There once was a small bird, His name was Lucian. He lived in a forest. Yeah, just a fucking forest. It was sometimes referred to as the “Acorn Forest”, but that wasn’t its real name. Lucian was 5 months old. He barely had feathers. I had never seen something so ‘New’ in my life. I went closer before the mom made me realize to leave. So I hike the trails with my dad some more. I found this almost dried up creak with a water fall. I hate Fuckin snails. And I was pretty sure there were fucking snails at the water falls. So a had to leave. I came back the shadow’s edge of the deep wood trails to find Lucian hopping along the trail. I had to step on a gardener snake to get to him. That things almost bit me, if I didn’t get my foot up off it in time. This thing hiss like it wanted to shatter my skull, eat my brains and digest me into a inside out in some ellipsistical form. I rubbed my hands on some dirt and grass before I picked him up, to avoid getting a human scent on him. Lucian was too exhausted from running from the snake to do anything about it. Obviously the mother had let it go, and Lucian didn’t stand a chance against the forest alone. We walked back toward the trail. I realized we were walking in the direction of His nest, but I didn’t know what else to do. I walked slow. Almost silently as I gently lay each foot down upon the twigs. I got him back into his nest. Before the mother noticed me. The other birds started chirping so I bolted, when I immediately saw blood on my hand. I didn’t notice because the temperature of is blood was the same as mine. I hadn't realized the snake had already bitten Him. The mother was back in the nest for a few seconds before I heard her screech. (These events took place in Cottage Grove, 09/24/1989. Roughly.)