enlightened garbage

Garbage has quickly proven itself an inexhaustible subject. Very apropos. It makes me happy that so many notable people are doing marvelous things with garbage. I recently read an article by Malcolm Gladwell in the New Yorker magazine about a think tank begun by an ex-Microsoft gent. It made me want to be part of a think tank. More than that, it made me want to ask them a few questions. One compelling thought proposed by the article is that great science is only a matter of time, while great art is a matter of circumstance. This is a good example of how circumstantial art can be: turn on the lights

amazing

I came across this truly amazing art made from discarded liquor caps. El Anatsui, a native of Ghana, lives in Nigeria. He is a professor of sculpture at the University of Nigeria. For his work, he often uses discarded materials found in his midst. His traveling exhibit is called El Anatsui: Gawu. Check out the slide show of his work at this link to the Fowler Museum.and his website.

The Boston Globe included this quote by El Anatsui in 2003 related to his work- "I believe that artists are better off working with whatever their environment throws up. I think that's what has been happening in Africa for a long time. I believe that color is inherent in everything, and it's possible to get color from around you, and that you're better off picking something which relates to your circumstances and your environment than going to buy a ready-made color."

3 days later

Garbage week is still on. I spent the weekend in Black River Falls visiting mom and dad. Lots of action, but not much crazy internet stuff happening there. Blogging was officially beyond the capacity of my parents' computer. I spent some quality time with the fam instead. Good research because Dad is one of the most enthusiastic trash hunters out there. He's not out to find treasure. He's out to clean up the earth in the most literal sense. The only time there is not a trash bag in his hand is when there is a chainsaw in it...or a scalpel. Yes, he's every bit as interesting as that makes him sound.

On Saturday, Dad took me on a tour of a recent garbage clean-up site. This was not at my request. Dad has projects like this lined up all over the county. Once a year he organizes a hard-core garbage collection day. It began as a personal endeavor. Friends and family picking up all nature of garbage from places Dad had noted throughout the year. Local construction companies donated a few dumpsters. A friend had a bobcat good for the heavy lifting. Word caught on and now the turn-out yields multiple dumpsters full of anything you could imagine. Word to the wise, if you're going to dump electronics along the river bank, don't dump it along with your junk mail. Dad will find you. His clean-up is an ongoing thing- by no means limited to one day a year. When I jog with Dad, I know that he will be collecting all the roadside garbage he can carry- and then some. Eventually stashing little piles of garbage in notable places so that he can drive the route later and pick them up. The whole family is used to it. There are always trashbags in waiting behind the seats of every vehicle and the truck bed is usually half-full of garbage from a recent trailing adventure.

Picking up garbage is good exercise. If nothing else- in humility.

garbage week: 1

This marks the beginning of Garbage Week on my blog. I'm excited to delve into one of my favorite topics. There are many people out there doing amazing things with garbage. I am pumped to make some new discoveries and share them.

I spent Christmas in Mexico with the fam. I had big plans for finding beach garb. But I realized quickly that I needed more direction than just finding garbage. There's too much. I zeroed in on toothbrushes. My family only asked once. 'Why toothbrushes?' Exactly. Why toothbrushes? Don't think I haven't asked myself that same question. There are so many. The truth is, I would have rather collected washed up doll parts but those are hard to come by. So I set out to find all beached toothbrushes within a mile of our rented house. The thrill of the hunt is amazing. My sisters occasionally ventured along with me. The moment of discovery is a nice one to share with people you care about. 'jackie! I think it's a toothbrush!' 'Bonanza!' 'Eureka!' 'Score!!' 'Hmmmm. Do my teeth look mossy to you? Maybe I should use......my brand new TOOTHBRUSH!' A hunt like this strengthens your stomach. Not the abs so much. The part of your stomach responsible for allowing you to pick up things that look like the physical embodiment of bird-flu. Here's a mini garb rainbow I threw together on a solo trek. I felt bad when my sister found it later and thought she had happened upon a garbage miracle.


My beach garbage mentor is Helle Jorgensen. Her beach garbage is beautiful. Check it out for yourself at her blog called gooseflesh.

minding the mission

One reason I like the YWCA- they write an inspirational quote on a whiteboard near the entrance and for weeks at a time, the same words stare me in the face as I come and as I go. Last month it was a quote by Aristotle - 'we are what we repeatedly do. Excellence, then, is not an act, but a habit.' Upon entering the Y, the quote usually translates to something gym-related. Upon leaving the Y, it can translate to anything. I like that. Doggedness is often taken for granted. I guess it seems too boring. Maybe it just seems boring because all the dogged thrillseekers die young. The world is overpopulated with dogged bores.

I almost never declare quotes bullshit. But a lot of them are. There's no censorship. The secret is to not let a bad quote be the source of a great deal of inspiration to you. I don't think Confucius ever intended to be extracted from a cookie.

who cares?

Probably just me, but here's three scenarios that I confronted on Sunday. I was plagued by what exactly the right thing to do was in each.

Scenario 1- Lemonade stand at a garage sale. Small glass 50 cents, large glass one dollar. Young girl manning the stand. Even considering that I feel poor right now, my ruling is that lemonade must be purchased. There are almost no exceptions to this rule. I would visit an ATM if it came to that.

Scenario 2- Man on the street asks me for change. I give the negative nod before he even comes shoulder to shoulder with me. When he does- I see he has no nose. Just a gaping hole acting as a nostril. There may or may not have been a shred of bone dividing the chasm. In my mind, this changes things. I am both repulsed and filled with sympathy. But a little voice inside of me says, 'I only know one thing that could make a nose disappear like that.'

Scenario 3- Girl in front of me waiting for the stop light to change. Jean skirt on backwards. Obviously backwards. Fly in back and two front pockets on her rear end. I don't think she's trying to make a statement. She must have reasoned the whole thing out poorly and would likely be mortified if she ever comes to the realization.

art-a-whirl II

I have been feeling guilty about the helium mention and the drooling Jon Heder reference. So, I'm going to take a moment to clarify both comments. The woman working at the Gallery @ Fox Tax was one of the most intriguing people I've seen since moving to Minneapolis. I've seen some very intriguing people since moving here. That her voice was lighter than air (much lighter) is an observation that I wish I would have had a little more tact in expressing. The Jon Heder thing- it sounded ruder than I intended. It was just the first thing that popped into my head when I saw the work.

art-a-whirl

This weekend is Art-A-Whirl. I have been excited about it for a month. This does not explain why I did not visit the Art-A-Whirl website or determine, beyond my vague notion of where NorthEast Minneapolis is, where exactly NorthEast Minneapolis is. Today I went to one gallery. Gallery @ Fox Tax. The work was thought-provoking. I found myself staring at it for considerable lengths of time. I also found myself trying not to stare at the woman working there. She had the bluntest haircut I have ever seen and a voice that suggested a nearby source of helium. When a gentleman walked in to enquire as to where the balloons had flown off to, I am certain he was thinking the same thing as I- are you drinking them slowly? Truthfully, I had watched the balloons blow away from across the street. But I do wonder if she was drinking straight from the tap.

In addition to the 4 artists whose work was displayed in the main gallery, there were artists with studios on the 2nd and 3rd floors. I looked at their work while they looked at me. There was a 4-part series of portraits that looked like an abstract drooling John Heder. I wondered how offended the artist would be if I commented on his self-portraiture. Because the artist was nice-looking and the subject of his work was slightly monstrous. Which got me thinking about how rude it would be to walk around to every gallery and pretend that all the most hideous depictions were self-portraits. There were only two things that I would have considered buying, if a very recent transaction at the ATM hadn't warned me against that very act. The first- an unfinished work by the portrait artist. A pencil drawing on raw wood of two figures that he would eventually paint. The second- a pair of bicycle fenders painted by Jennifer Davis for last year's show.

There are a lot of differing viewpoints on what makes art good. For lack of a better standard, I subscribe to the subjective school of thought. Good art is art that I like. I judge wine and friends accordingly.

dowry

This is the painting that Jon carries with him. Now it has a new home above our corner booth. Someday this painting could make us incredibly wealthy, except that we would never allow that to happen.


It is a painting by Jessica McCoy. She is my sister and one of a handful of people in the world I am most proud of. Pride is messy and complicated. Pride and jealousy and love always co-exist. Not really worthy of a fridge magnet, but true. I'm proud of Jessica in a way that involves very little jealousy. Of course, I would say that even if it weren't true. Jessica makes me want to create amazing things.

The storefront window of Design Within Reach on Hennepin Avenue is adorned with several beautiful quotes. Here is the one that stops me in my tracks almost every day-

"what you make is important" --george nelson

adieu

Leif has gone to Alaska to fish. That's 'layf'- not to be mistaken with make a like a tree and leif. Jon and I attended his send-off in Stillwater on Tuesday night. It was a fond farewell, but nothing climactic. We didn't actually cut a rope attached to the hull of a ship and send him to Alaska via the St. Croix river. I am no maven of the waterways of Minnesota, but I'm pretty sure it's not possible to get to Alaska without setting foot on dry land. Afterwards, we drove home with some of Jon's work buddies and Leif spent another day awaiting his trek to Minneapolis/9-hour bus ride to Chicago/flight to no man's land.
Leif is now arriving in Anchorage. Then on to Kodiak Island. Where he will contemplate life, watch some whales, and dine in the most misplaced McDonald's known to man. Apparently, Kodiak Island is one of the few places where you can accomplish all three of those things simultaneously. Best of luck, Leif!


Leif's best bear face.
Oh, and should anything happen involving a bear, he stood his ground.
(that's strictly for the record, I gave my word)

suitcase: part one

The stars were aligned on Thursday. The day before, as Jon and I were donating an uplifting mass of stuff to Salvation Army (my fave store on 38th), I spotted a vintage suitcase that had just been donated. I should explain that Jon and I were specifically looking for two or three 'new' vintage suitcases. To stash old sweaters in- in lieu of closet space- and to contain the bulk of Jon's CD collection. The need for the suitcase was not spontaneous.

The next day I biked back on my lunch break to claim it as my own. When I entered the store, Jill greeted me with 'sweetie' or 'honey' or something of the like from behind the counter. One of the regular employees asked if I had the purple monster out for a ride. That's my bike. All karmic signs said PROCEED. So when the suitcase was nowhere to be found, I stepped cautiously into the back sorting room and honed in on it. Long story short, a helper in the back said she had to check with Jill behind the counter to see what to charge. This did not throw me. Jill and I operate on a level of deep respect. I donate tons of stuff and never ask for bargains. Consequently, she gives me super deals and addresses me by terms of endearment.

Jill's inspection revealed that the suitcase wouldn't open. This could have been disastrous. There was clearly something locked in it. Something that sounded like a clothes hanger but could just as easily have been a vintage Rolex. Jill could have claimed that she wouldn't sell it, not knowing the contents. I couldn't blame her. But Jill is cool beyond reason. She sold the suitcase to me for $3. I promised to bring back anything resembling treasure and split the booty.

She stepped out to take a smoke as I arranged myself on my bike with my suitcase. I told her how excited I was to have it. 'It's the little things, sweetheart,' she said. Her little thing being the cigarette and my little thing being a ratty suitcase that proceeded to stain my pantleg with its fake tan hide all the way home. But she's right.



Damn. Hangers.

hanging it up

Yesterday I made a conscious decision to make no progress on the merging of two apartments into one. The obvious conflict that has arisen lies in the fact that one apartment was in want of nothing. Now that apartment has twice as much stuff. My method of coping with this recent influx is to ruminate. This method has not helped the situation.

My conscious decision was to get proof of the state of things on my camera, then take the night off. I meant to create a self-induced challenge whereby I try to fix the whole place in one day (today) and document the miracle on my blog. Last night, after taking the pictures as proof, the realization hit me that I should begin setting things right immediately. But, as I had planned on doing nothing until today, I did nothing. At several critical points throughout the workday, I told myself that I could totally make a miracle happen tonight. By the time I left work, I had effectively put the whole idea out of my head. No miracle. I spent the better part of the night arranging a box full of old letters in reverse chronological order.

Progress from the inside out. my new motto

selling out

I've been thinking about selling out a lot lately. I hate the term. I would almost go so far as to say I hate people who use the term, except that I use it pretty often. Self-loathing isn't really my generation's style. We're more into self-righteousness. Just ask anyone approximately the same age as me. Don't ask directly. Just ask us anything. You'll see what I mean.

A few months ago, an acquaintance of mine mentioned offhand that Anthony Bourdain was selling out. This claim was not in reference to any particular action. Just generally speaking. I put some heat on him and he backed down without a fight. Actually, he changed his tune completely- which bugged me even more. I don't have an opinion one way or the other about Anthony Bourdain, but selling out is not something to treat lightly. Sometimes I get worked up about things I don't care much about. Like Anthony Bourdain and the state of his soul. I guess it was the mention of selling out that bugged me. Selling out is personal. Let Anthony Bourdain decide if he's selling out. I know when I'm selling out. I also have a pretty good idea when the President of the United States is selling out, but that's not the point I'm trying to make.

As for me- I'm going to be selling out a little bit less.
Just take my word for it.

megabus

There is a bus that travels to Chicago from Minneapolis called Megabus. It's the equivalent of the Chinatown bus in Manhattan. Super cheap. It makes taking an 8-hour journey on public transit relatively painless. Here's how it works. You go online and buy a ticket in advance. If you plan far enough ahead, your ticket could cost as little as a dollar. At least that's what they say. The bus makes one stop en route to Chicago. Madison, WI. We traveled one-way to Madison for $9 each. A one-way ticket to Madison on Greyhound costs $60. Here's where the deal gets even sweeter. Megabus is double-decker. Since the only passengers in front of us were a 100-year old couple with wonky hips, Jon and I got first dibs on the top floor. We nabbed the windshield seat.


Kind of like traveling to Madison via I-MAX theatre. Lightning filled the sky, rain pelted the windows, the bus blew from side to side on the interstate- all while back to back Schwarzenegger movies played on the flatscreen right in front of us. Nine bucks for a five hour theme park ride that actually gets you somewhere. Don't tell me how to spend a dollar. I'll beat you every time.


my newest porcelain minidogs enjoy the megaview

live from madison

Madtown. My alma mater. Good to be back. Good to be drinking the best coffee this side of Seattle.