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Lower Case ‘G’.

This edifice, a skeletal form evoking the architectural grandiosity of structures devoted to divine worship, was constructed to call into question ‘mainstream’ religion’s fixation with the ‘manmade’. When walking into this faux-building, instead of seeing the iconographies of piety, one only sees the sky. Blasphemy to some, but indeed what is more sacred than the celestial? The juxtaposition between the indoors and outdoors prompts the visitor to ask “what makes a place of worship ‘holy’?”. A rock forged into a church wall is sacred, but one on the ground is secular? This hollow monument itself slowly returns to Mother Earth, overtaken by the flash oxidation of fire and slow erosion of the sun and rain.  Entropy ultimately retaking its position as one of the true gods.

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In Lieu of… 2011

This piece is designed to serve as a metaphor for the innumerable empty promises laid at the feet of a once-subjugated minority. In building this non-building, a wooden barrier with a large, ostentatious sign reading “African American Cultural Center,” the artist references an uncomfortable truth.Not unlike the post-emancipation pledge of 40 acres and a mule, this work evokes the United States’ propensity to trade actual product or progress for the emptiness of ‘good intentions.’The wall, complete with a quintessentially multicultural mural, satirically espouses a commitment to a Center the community is unable or unwilling to construct. A microcosm of minority race and religious relations, this piece embodies both the best and worst of “mainstream” American priorities.Other “forever-under construction” projects proposed by the artist include a “Native Americans: Here’s Colorado Back” installation and a thrilling piece that “promises” to allow the Iraqi Army to invade and “liberate” Washington D.C., with the guarantee of a meager and underpowered defense from the U.S. military.

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Made You Look. 2011

In a world of disappearing social interaction, the purpose of this piece is to engage, nay even confront.The two metal pillars stand as monolithic guardians, reminders of the social boundaries that are not meant to be crossed in ‘polite society.’The chairs, facing one another in an endless stare-off, are purposefully arranged to be neither close enough for quiet conversations between lovers or friends, nor far enough away to invite solitary contemplation.As the gap between members of the populace in our own cities widens into chasms, these seats serve as reminders of the difficulty of engagement, yet incongruously prod participants to recognize the inherent necessity of such communication.

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Depressed Button. 2011

In a chaotic, uncaring universe, (wo)mankind has always sought for a sense of order and control amid the anarchy, be it through religion, ritual, or the implementation of the ‘rule of law.’ Laws, we are meant to believe, are inherent ‘truths,’ as opposed to attempts to fit the government’s binary narrative of ‘right’ and ‘wrong.’

This piece, designed to pose as a pedestrian crosswalk button, is a perfect embodiment of humanity’s attempt to the control their environment, even though the actual effect of that ‘control’ is ultimately an illusion. This button, when pressed, makes an audible beep, denoting that the pedestrian’s request for passage has been ‘heard.’ However, traffic continues to flow uninterrupted. If the light turns red soon after the button is used, we give ourselves credit for controlling our sphere, not unlike a shaman taking responsibility for precipitation after performing a rain dance.`

This traffic light changes on its own rhythmic cycle, a metaphor for the turning of days, seasons or the waxing and waning of the moon. Buttons may be pressed, but in the end, sometimes the universe is timed in your favor, and sometimes one must wait… or brave the dangerous ‘road’ and the government’s raised red hand, glowing for you to stop and do as you’re told.

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The collaborative show was at Mad Art in St.Louis on December 3rd 2010, with the pieces  staying up through the end of the month.

There were a number of pieces created specifically for the show, including this lovely before and after mailbox, along with a complete Declare it Art kit.

The kit contains a weatherproof piece of Gatorboard, a Declare it Art guide, two stickers, and even a Certificate of “Authenticity.”  These extras are currently not available on the site, to create a forced sense of scarcity, or something.

Special thanks to Stan Chisholm, Lisa See Kim and the rest of their awesome crew who are making St. Louis’ art scene explode with great shows all the damn time. So glad to be part of it!

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The Forest From the Tree. 2010

What makes this tree special? Perhaps the question is better posed as what doesn’t make a tree special? This oak displays the traits expected of its genus, but what it also evokes is the question of free will VS. predestination.  The branching of its fractal leaves is both identical to millions of its brethren and yet incongruously completely unique, both genetically and in its physical form. Planted more than 50 years ago disguised as a regular sapling, this piece of art tells a story of slow growth, struggle against pollution and the elements, and is ultimately a celebration of life’s triumph over the entropic and chaotic universe. Its form, created in large part as a reaction to the external, was yet completely “programmed” by the information contained when this work existed solely as a seed. Nature VS. nurture? Why not both?

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You Are Here. 2010

At first this piece appears to imply disgust and disdain for the neighborhood. However, this art, taking the form of a sign, in disrepair and defaced with glue and grime, is in actuality a celebration of an unpredictable and vibrant world. To catalogue (as mankind is wont to do) the wealth of human experience that exists on this “strip” of commercial properties is to do the area of disservice. This directory promises the idea of an easy answer, a way for a newcomer to gain his/her bearings in order to make an “informed” decision of where to go. By having such a map all-but unreadable, this piece reminds the observer that life is about chance rather than choice.

The best way to “familiarize” oneself to the area, even (or perhaps especially as) a new visitor or transplant, is to wander, eliciting eye-contact from the street’s wide-range of personalities. These characters, hired by the artist to represent the quintessential (or clichéd) varied sub-cultures prevalent to the greater metropolitan area, expand this piece into an interactive wonderland (a microcosm of the city, the country and the world). 

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Surveillance Statement. 2010

This piece parodies our current state of surveillance in the ‘first world.’ Taking the idea of ‘Big Brother’ to an overt extreme, these camera’s main strategy is to remind the pedestrian that he or she is being watched by an ‘eye’ that is anything but unseen.

Placed purposefully behind an intimidating black barrier complete with spikes, these cameras peer upon the ‘public’ while nestled in the private. On University property, this equipment begs the question of who is watching whom? The voyeur, stereotypically portrayed as the quintessential ‘male gaze,’ here is more reminiscent of a protective matriarch (Big Mother?), a monolithic beacon promising security it can scarcely provide. Where do these recordings go? Is anything being ‘taped’ at all? It is a mystery whose answer doesn’t matter in the least. Regardless, readers of this statement are encouraged to face these faceless oculars, confront them and demand response. No answer?

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While I was photographing this piece, a man in a motorized wheelchair rolled by on the sidewalk. Seeing me with a camera, he yelled “Stop taking pictures! We need food!”

All I could muster in response was “I know.”

Foodland. 2010

This piece, with its purposefully over-generic title, is meant to suggest the setting of post-apocalyptic fiction, particularly pieces popularized in cinema.  Foodland’s distance from the street offers the onlooker a tableau evoking the ‘establishing shot,’ in film, a popular strategy to acclimate the viewer to a new setting and scene. Many poorer urban areas are lacking in the basic necessity of ‘real food,’ as opposed to the over-processed and under-nourishing sustenance offered up from ‘convenience’ stores dotting the cityscape like a fungus. Foodland thus mocks the promise of delivering fresh, healthy groceries, and instead reminds the observer that like a phone number that begins with 555, these things only happen ‘in the movies.’

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I put up one of these bad boys near the statements as a way to publicize the site without getting in the way of the text itself. They’re vinyl , so they should hopefully stick around for quite some time.

The best thing about these stickers is that anyone can declare Art right on the spot. Put one of ‘em on a rusty pipe on the street, the neighborhood cat or a urinal, and you’ve just turned the art world on its head (if you’ve time traveled back to 1916).

I’m gonna put these things up for sale on the site eventually, but if you really want some now, e-mail me, and we can work something out.

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