Showing posts with label shit-yo. Show all posts
Showing posts with label shit-yo. Show all posts

Saturday, November 2, 2013

a mud-slinging screamfest


a clay orifice upon flesh -
fill the dark hollow with a howl...
sonic containment within,
psychical release without -
mouth to mouth resurrect.

If you feel the need to unleash the mother of all screams without disturbing the peaceful setting of West Vancouver, go and pick up one of these clay pots at the West Vancouver Museum and expand your lungs for a major howl into it. Your muffled bellow will barely ruffle the feathers of any sedate West Van matrons around!


These "scream pots" are the objets d'artifice of an exhibition conceived by the not so vociferous Babak Golkar whose magic persian carpet mushroomed a miniature city of intricate buildings at the Charles H. Scott Gallery last year. The terracotta pots are hand-crafted into varied shapes and sizes to affect the tenor of the screams emitted into them. Even if one does not feel the need to cry out, the tactile nature of the clay invites one to touch, hold, caress...








*****



The second part of the exhibit includes a digital projection of blobs of clay being hurled at a wall with the accompanying plopping sound effects - the aptly scatological visual [and audio] is somewhat mesmerizing to watch and presents another release of sorts in the physical force of flinging mud...
[Gabriel Orozco also once pitched clay balls in one of his projects, but at the pots themselves as they were being turned on the wheel...[Cazuelas (Beginnings), 2002]



The "turds" dried and fell off with the resultant staining still manifest on the wall, creating a monochrome messy dot "painting" a la the Japanese eccentric Yayoi Kusama - with the baked pieces scattered on the floor below their previous elevated surface like so many dropped and inedible crumbs...


in the end, a lumpen being of baked clay
lies dejected, hardened, unused -
and failing to rise again,
sinks to the floorboards of life...


Dialectic of Failure
New Work by Babak Golkar
October 11 to December 7, 2013
West Vancouver Museum 


Friday, April 5, 2013

up china creek yo...



yo mama's house?...here bitch yo...


the Vancouver Parks Board has since replaced the missing "i" and the halfed "e" but did not see fit to remove the scratched in letters above the "Ch" that makes it into an archaic racial epithet, thereby perpetuating and perhaps also condoning the handiwork of racist oINKers...


yo bitch, listen to "china creek" by half chinese from their album we were pretending to be...hear bitch yo...
and on various youtube vids...

[more shit on China Creek Skate Park here...yo...]
 

Friday, December 14, 2012

midnight oil...


arrorogate along the trickety track...

surrenrender into the intrigante trunk...

forever ever deep in the hotshitoil...


Paraverbal Mutterings Paraverbal Muttering
is my first self-published book of poetics and photoimagery selected from this savage states blog...
now available for sale on blurb.ca
www.blurb.ca/bookstore/detail/3865859#promote-pane 

[the title of this collection is appropriated from an anonymous stencil found on a wall in japantown]


Sunday, October 17, 2010

backwater stills

another scatological study of an ursine nature...

slightly worn antler missing detached moose...

pioneer coop for fowl long feasted on...

a gang of chainlinks hanging about...

retired from a generation of growing seasons...

rusticated still life perched in certitude...

the river that feeds a thousand fields...

a pristine source that flows into that river deep...

Friday, October 8, 2010

backwoods pathos

Five hundred kilometers north east of Vancouver and we are in a river valley of very few inhabitants...
Land was cheap and one could bird call hundreds of acres a kingdom of one's own for a sing along song...
As we explored one such lyrical kingdom, we stumbled upon a wooded meadow tombstoned with dozens of dead cars - a verdant graveyard of long abandoned machines - as incongruous a setting as a rose garden in a parking garage....





not only decomposing car-davers, but a canoe corpse...

and even a fossilizing snowmobile...

and more implanted rusting hulks...

before almost stepping on fresh scatological evidence of a greater, and much furrier, presence in these deep dark woods...