One of the art worlds surf-oriented darlings, Ray Pettibon, deserves every credit he gets. A show of his surfy works should not be missed. Up now through May 17th in Manhattan, this show is a must see. More here.
One night last week my digestive system took a holiday to Bombay, foolishly eating some street curry rotisserie pepper-encrusted prickly pear dipped in Ganges death ash dipping sauce, only to find its way back to my unsuspecting rest-of-body before sunrise. All this as my surf oriented gear laid waiting patiently next to the door for the pre sunrise dash. The 4:30 AM alarm not only woke the rest-of-my-body but also jarred the prodigal-bit-of-my-body from its recently started jet-lag induced nap, making it a very groggy, very grumpy, very unfortunately awake bit-of-my-body. This was all terrible and has been since. Not my favorite way to miss the spring season of good surf, of which there has been in spades. I'd love to complain more, but just go root around the internet for whatever images you can find from the last week around here. If you weren't there, and weren't surfing wherever you are, you'll do all the complaining yourself.
A few days ago I had a nice conversation with someone who runs an online art gallery. We touched on artistic process, sensibilities and value systems. We talked about archiving and collecting. I mentioned that I used to keep notebooks of drawings and writings but that those things were inevitably replaced by blogging, something I had conceived of as an easier daily practice at some point, the argument being that the blog, being inherently public, offers the kind of pressure to produce that having an audience (however imagined and fictional) provides. The idea that someone somewhere just might be waiting for that next statement or observation or flight of fancy or experiment, the idea that there might be someone like that in some possible world at least, is enough to coerce laziness to scram. In fact, over the years blogging has done just that. I've been able to practice writing, to one degree or another. I've been able to create little worlds of process that have allowed me to stake out a little mental space for myself apart from the rest of my life. But when I mentioned this move away from the overtly tactile process of keeping a physical journal, full of hand written notes and little sketches and drawings, I think she sorta got a screwed up look on her face, a little crinkling of the nose, as if she'd momentarily smelled something disappointing. My apologetic reaction to that was to assure her that I someday I will return to sketching and writing in my books, a thought that has occurred to me but I'd never really given much weight. As I said it though, I realized how true that statement is. I will return to the notebooks.
How do magazines continue? How do they stay relevant? It is easy to see why the garden variety daily newspaper would be overcome by the hourly, minutely, news cycle digital media offers. You'd think magazines would go the same route. But magazines are something different. Somehow the online glossy just doesn't have that mystique, that magical component of physical artifact still playing upon our heart strings just so. In the best cases, a magazine, the physical thing itself, becomes a little art gallery of imagery, and a little library of thought that's all yours. There it is on the shelf, or the table or wherever, a kind of inspirational security blanket that might remind you that poetry isn't dead, that travel writing isn't dead, that hard work isn't dead.
A couple really rad ones. Magazines that warm the literary heart. Thanks to Tommy Colla for keeping a GOQ for me which inspired me to finally subscribe after months of promising to do so. Glad I did. And Acid there, I bought that little magazine a while ago and have been waiting for the next round ever since. Now I gotta go find it.
Big love for the 35mm around here. Shit, we have big love for the 120 around here. Mastastico sent this through the other day. On point as usual. Come see Johnny Panessa's Mastic show tomorrow night at the PF Gallery. Come on...support a fellow surfer...
Original Mastician Johnny Panessa, surfer, skateboarder and street photographer, opens an important show Friday night at Picture Farm Gallery. 6-10 pm. Beer and wine, great photography and a real message.
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