I live out the rest of my life posing as a hipster Mormon boy riding a black fixed gear bike around large cities, door-to-door in neighborhoods attempting to convince people to purchase The Ultimate Hitchhiker’s Guide:Five Novels and One Story from me, that looks quite like a Bible.
I like using studio practices that are irrelevant and making them relevant.
- I’m collaborating with a designer/friend Alison Whitworth for the release of the Field Sculpture book. Expect that to drop sometime in November.
- I was recently given a Vivitar v3800N, and ordered a Minolta Hi-Matic G2
- Hopefully will soon be collaborating with Raw Paw, an Austin based collective, with a response video to the happenings in Ferguson
- I work at a taco restaurant and it’s great
- Like really great
- I’m most likely going to Denver and South Carolina this fall.
- Trying to convince my buddy Enoch Rios to collab with me at Co-Lab.
- Life is good.
In my first semester of grad school, I land an exhibition. I have the gallery move a mini van into the space, and I dress as my mother in the late 90s while she was pregnant with my younger sister.
I execute a performance piece of her running up and down a soccer field, pregnant, and wearing a fanny pack. Cheering for a 7 year old boy who has minimal levels of coordination among the other 20 boys of the same skill level.
Nearing the end of the performance I walk across the turf laid as a soccer field for my piece, I hand out the gummy snacks and granola bars to the audience from the fanny pack, and also drag an ice chest filled with Caprisun and Mondo for everyone to enjoy.
I then retire to the mini van for a nap.
I debut a performance piece for an art show. The left room contains a man dressed as Siddiq Abubakar III, and the right room a man dressed as Barack Obama. The two men stride around the outskirts of the room, and sit back at their throne/oval office desk once per half hour for the duration of the opening.
During the sitting time they say nothing, but exude a leader-like posture, erect and proud. Over the half hour they grow sad, tired, weary, slouched.
An alarm sounds for the royal processions to start.
During the performance some people, join the methodical pace around the room with the men in both rooms.
The performance resumes every following Tuesday morning at 10 am; it becomes an ongoing practice.
I return to my empty studio, pace the edges of the room and sit down on the bare floor.