Sunday, April 28, 2013

PLoP A gANdER ~ adhesion never felt so good


!! fun new sticker available !!

* 5.25 in  x  4 in
* postage paid
* will ship internationally
* made possible through the generous berating of uncle marvin: ~ targeting audiences since 2005 ~


violence for the people
they always eat the hand that bleeds
-m.m.

Friday, July 27, 2012

Bitter Living Through Paranoia...


*chromogenic print



post cards from the future 
...with simultaneous remote greetings
from behind the orange curtain
and correspondent accompaniment electrically notated by
Ohi Rucecky Collective 
~
this is a very old formula
sadly cynical for a long time

still have some hope...but... lots of shitty humans out there

don't worry...everything will be fine...one day someone will be poking through the petrified remains of our trash and wonder what happened to us....

that's if there's anything tangible left to be dug

...maybe the whole thing will be a radioactive, scorched layer of rock....

hope to be a radiated super mutant specie that lives in harmony with the universe

given the track record, i'd say a pile of ash is far more likely

if i float still in one spot...i would reach you in 3 hours

sweet dreams




*chromogenic print


Friday, January 20, 2012

NeW THeMeS iN SEMioTiCS - ceci n'est pas un drapeau


"The Department of Justice Web server hosting Justice.gov is currently experiencing a significant increase in activity, resulting in a degradation in service. The department is working to ensure the Web site is available while we investigate the origins of this activity, which is being treated as a malicious act until we can fully identify the root cause of the disruption."

you can't shake the devil's hand and say you were just kidding.
the forefathers were too stuck up to even be british, manifesting a destiny of raw material and labour. and money. cashed in less than two hundred and fifty years later, the american people have been sold out. if all those indians didn't die, how could one be thankful over supper for the right to enjoy television and buy cheap plastic shit?
it's no mistake the devil is often personified as a business man.
the american dream is for people who are asleep.
if norman rockwell were alive we'd bitch slap him.

The positive element of kitsch lies in the fact that it sets free for a moment the glimmering realization that you have wasted your life. 
-Theodor W. Adorno, Quasi una Fantasia
-

Sunday, January 8, 2012

LoLLYgAggiNg iN CosTuMe.
















alone in the garden
*14 pg.
4in. x 2.63in.

~ a zine ~
* available indefinitely
* no cost
* postage paid
* will ship internationally


punch the clock since you're too tired to punch your boss...


Well, I try my best
To be just like I am
But everybody wants you
To be just like them
They say sing while you slave and I just get bored

-Bob Dylan


Haven't seen the sun weeks
My skin is getting pale
Haven't got a mind left to speak
And I'm skinny as a rail

Light bulbs are getting dim
My interest is starting to wane
I'm told it's everything a man could want
And I shouldn't complain

Conversation's getting dull
There's a constant buzzing in my ears
Sense of humor's void and numb
And I'm bored to tears

-The Raconteurs


..Do you know what the people say?
Plucked from the garden
Of wretched beliefs,
I offer a rose
And smile with harmless teeth.

Then slick back my hair
You know the devil's in there?
Alone in the garden.

-Them Crooked Vultures

Thursday, December 15, 2011

the End is Here...



!!!
*~for one night only~*
...ladies und gentile men...

salon style sty-lings for your evening pleasures.
6 after dark.
dec. 17
west gallery
csuf

more frightening than any downtown pub.
don't drink the water.
fluoride makes good rat poison.
shut up. be happy.

* etching on paper


'Amateurs, dilettantes, hacks, cowboys, clones
The streets groan with little Caesars, Napoleons and cunts
With their building blocks and their tiny plastic phones
Counting on their fingers, with crumbs down their fronts...

I smell smoke, see little fires bursting on the lawns
People carry on regardless, listening to their hands
Great cracks appear in the pavement, the earth yawns
Bored and disgusted, to do us down...'

-nick cave


* chromogenic prints





Thursday, March 31, 2011

DuSTiNG tHe BoNe CLoSeT...


*Installation View, Great Divide - Table and Chairs. Chromogenic Print.

On view at The Glass House Record Store
april 9 - may 6
Opening Reception- Downtown Pomona Art Walk:
sat. apr. 9th, 6-9 pm

All this noise is making me nervous
I feel every slammed door and drunken laugh
Sometimes there's no room for breathing
Take me to a colony and leave me in Antarctica
The living germs keep these buildings alive
And every day we feed them with our dirt and rotten memories

-therapy?


Wednesday, March 23, 2011

~ SpiRiTS CoNjUREd ~ read all about it in new zine...
















Ghosts
* 14 pg.
3.75 in. X 2.63 in.

* available indefinitely.
* no cost.
* postage paid.
* will ship internationally.


...in a universe suddenly divested of illusions and lights, man feels an alien, a stranger. His exile is without remedy since he is deprived of the memory of a lost home or the hope of a promised land. This divorce between man and his life, the actor and his setting, is properly the feeling of absurdity.
-Albert Camus

Thursday, December 16, 2010

EyE CaNdY


there's so much for you to see.
only some of it will set you free.

...best one night stand you've had in a while.
you don't even have to stay long.
we certainly won't be making you breakfast.

Thursday, October 21, 2010

" i'm not ashamed if you're entertained. " :PosT AltPressExpo pOsT


*book, letterpress, assorted pills, subcutaneous syringe, resin


there's a hole in our soul that we fill with dope
and we're feeling fine

-m.m.





*book, metal capsules, glass syringe, assorted pills


a pill to make you numb
a pill to make you dumb
a pill to make you anybody else

-m.m.
















*book, letterpress, novelty rounds
















I read that book every page
And then I put it away
Said I don't think so

It makes slaves of all womankind
And corpses of the men
And I just don't know

-grinderman


cliche. pastiche. kitsch. one liners are worth it if they make you smile. lets not pretend we shouldn't all also be in the business of making a joke. delicious and nutritious.
"automatic charisma for your chemical mind."
no lightning, nada, nothin'. just a sore hand, numb finger tip, heaps of human sized gerbil bedding, a dull knife and a handful of narcotics. it's all for the show.
mostly...

over a thousand miles have passed. mounting the summit only to have to return to the bottom and start over again. when you push the rock long enough it should become easier to push. every day, your muscles become more defined and solid. your endurance builds. eventually, the stone begins to chip and wear. its surface becomes smooth from the unending friction of its own crushing weight..to grind the the stone instead.
in a matter of hours..cast once more amidst the gauntlet.
good ol' fashioned misguided gluttons.
at least someone helped jesus.
i'll be dragging my wooden stand alone for certain.



boys with bashed in eyes line the roads
but the longest walk was the one back home

-therapy?

Tuesday, August 3, 2010

Love's unidentified pharmacology badge appears in local town...




* collagraph, photo-transfer on paper



on view at
The Black Triangle, Los Angeles.
aug. 7 - sep. 4.




* etching on paper


Opening Reception: sat. aug. 7, 20:00.
five bone$. live noise. rude comments.

come be seduced, stay for the spectacle.




because life is just too damn short, and you might find yourself alone inside your psychotropic mind hunched over bitter and jaded, striking a forgotten pack of matches from a vegas hotel which hasn't existed since your grandparents were chain-smoking to the tune of keno, patriarch, and america
- too cold to cry.

sometimes the best way to discover if something exists is to injure it indefinitely.
the pain that cannot be bared will annihilate outright.
legend has it Oscar Wilde suffered the world a blow and killed what would otherwise have killed him.
if the proper amount of neurotransmitter careening it's way through plasma and cerebrospinal fluid is met, i will cease to be myself, or at least my expectations.

creeping its way forward through the synapses in your optic nerve, stalking you in old towns near the sound of railroad tracks. keeping you up late at night.
influence the mind and the body will follow.

as lungs dry in a heaving, tuberculous sigh - and so the host of draining struggle and illness dies from its own inherent cure.

when Freud was finished pounding open his third eye with the ludvodican hammer of cocaine the shade was drawn aside as old men relinquished themselves to the insanity of their logic. stories were told. numbers fudged. softly fingering the warm tissue of time and recollection, bemoaning the dripping past's longing for nostalgia. dreaming up a lie whispered through centuries of cytoplasm, waking upon the death of tradition's nihilism. even Bentham and Mill couldn't resist a good old fashioned longing of the earth.

one of the few things worth attempting.
especially in the desert of unreason.



Saturday, July 17, 2010

BFA Graduate For Hire...


*for further inquiries and rude comments, please contact:




Thursday, July 15, 2010

OpeN MiC NigHT...


*Etching, Photo-transfer on Paper


Open mic night. The Disparate spot light, the confession of what you wanted but weren’t. a platform for fuck-ups and preachers. the lonely, the bored, the self-important. hipsters and poseurs. washouts. i drop more than names. “you ain’t a has been if you never was.” dirtbags. water drinkers. scene kids. armchair philosophers. it’s like the undead say: if god does exist it never makes it to the stupid parties. heLLed up in traffic. Dying in an automobile like the rest of us. disappeared under the earth’s chapped lip
in the envious green-flash of a nihilist Western son. Hope Full, but hope less. i can only hope to be a wash-up, decaying in the sand. you can’t die if you never lived. you can’t live if you never die. after-lifes are for still-borns. you’re only more famous when you die if you can taint the air as you rot. anything is something if anyone notices. all was not for naught. vicarious a synonym of death. nothing’s depressing like karaoke.
no one smiled. and the crowd went mild...

Tuesday, June 1, 2010

L A Z Y...



*Temporary Installation. Parking Garage Elevators, CSUF

Ohi Rucecky Collective





"man ain't meant to work / come on build a machine" -Jane's Addiction
let's be honest.
if every person used their bones and atp like they could there would be an entire legion of lift operator, service crew, fabricator, engineer, architect, physical plant, turn screw, turn key, business, bureaucracy, genius out of work.





as society becomes more complex, the basic tenets of a human - human relation to others and the environment changes. cooperation becomes necessary only insofar as it is required to procure a more efficient, pragmatic, utilitarian, calculated hedonism. the close relations once relied upon are now a mere formality in regards to each individual's potential to murder their neighbor and make use of resources. this is heightened in situations of dense population. as survival becomes simpler, larger groupings of individuals create a "social"/"civil" rhizome from the primitive roving-pack seed. distance travel becomes possible. high density populaces call for more complex organization in order to maintain its present operational capacity without caving in.

as numbers increase, physical surface area becomes crucial. room necessary to accommodate the actual spacial volume which a larger population necessitates is directly related to its relative increase in demand on the physical resources necessary to sustain it. power becomes important and necessary as a means of gaining and maintaining control of resources necessary for existence. as technology advances, so does the ability to direct a population's biopower. this is necessary to ensure proper use of available resources in relation to the vast masses which surge against them in a constant vacuum of utilization.

as agrarian society grinds its last plow for the portions of the world which will morph into super power "civilizations," we no longer need to hunt the meat and gather the rest. we have the silicone chip, silicone flesh, modern logic, nuclear fission and apposable thumbs. "you said you wanted evolution / the ape was a great big hit."
the monkey. the man. then the gun.

an old man told me a story once:
with the advent of a less "primitive" warring state of existence, agrarian society ushered in a new era of human prosperity. tools are fashioned to till the earth and make it bountiful. soon, the industrial revolution allows for the mechanization of anything, allowing for more efficient work and machines like tractors. more leisure time now exists. naturally, this portion of solace will be exploited as another means of deriving from the individual. some nights at the end of the week, there's a small gathering at the town hall or some other central locale of the populace where food, music, some form of entertainment and socializing is present and encouraged. and some times, travelers pull into town with odd things not from those parts. and sometimes, there's a special bear that a ringleader has trained to stand on its hind legs and dance through positive reinforcement, behavior modification, and a ring through its septum.
eventually, technology allows humanity a means to procuring much more leisure time as well as a means to answer that void. eventually, crucial skills for the basic security of survival become diminished in a haze of trivial, vacant, expendable tasks and experiences provided to great masses as a means to tranquilization, control and a cognitive buffer against revolt. the dancing bear becomes any great superstar celebutant and the great public a slack-jawed, open-mouth breather scraping their substance from the planet only to hand it back to the man in the top hat holding the reigns. and periodically throughout the eons this carefully manicured machine grinds itself down, and those with the ability necessary to basic survival will be the great achievers for the world ahead. given the opportunity, a mammal has been known to stimulate its pleasure impulses to the point of self-destruction. and while there certainly is a sucker born every minute, an entertaining actor will still be a dancing bear with shit dried to its ass and a ring though its nose as the public gapes upward in amazement and throws coins at it.

rome wasn't burnt in a day, but it owned slaves like the breath drawn through the dust of existence it smashed, and also apparently murdered the world's hope for a creative hero taken too seriously in renovated shipping warehouses, households, beds, hearts, minds and weekdays off. if god came to earth, we told told it to get in line, have the i.d. ready, sign the form, get back in line, and then smashed its head in on the way to the parking lot because it invented the cure for cancer and no one cared about joe dimaggio or fiber optics. human blood is usually dripping from the sharpened finger clenched behind the back of its greatest achievements.

hunt, gather, hut, clan, village, burg, township, polis, city, county, metropolis, eat, sleep, procreate, war, control.
and for fuck's sake, take the goddamn stairs once in a while.