One of my number one pet peeves, no a way you can just cut me deep. Ignore me when I'm right there. I feel so fucking useless nowadays anyway. I guess I'll go paint, what about you guys? What pisses you off?
by the way, if any one has info on a copyright for business names and license information I would appreciate it.
-B
20100626
20100625
Where were they going without ever knowing the way?
This is a topic, I usually don't do this, but I think maybe it'll get the ball rolling?
ok, TRIPS.
any kind, drugs, vehicular, mental, spiritual, metaphorical?
ANYTHING, talk guys, I implore you.
Always PEACE
-B
ok, TRIPS.
any kind, drugs, vehicular, mental, spiritual, metaphorical?
ANYTHING, talk guys, I implore you.
Always PEACE
-B
20100623
A CALL TO THE MINDS.
This is a call to arms. Acrylics, watercolors, video, stills, performers, and dealers, Markers, and sprayers. How ever you extend your appendages in the external world around you. Start up a conversation, revolution, even a fucking joke. Just take up room on this web page. ANYTHING, pictures, comments, concerns, proposals. I'll be posting animated pieces from my favorites from here on out. As well as play by plays of our future website that WILL be a favorite bookmark on your computer.
SO. ready. SET.... ..... .... go type, be free.
-B
SO. ready. SET.... ..... .... go type, be free.
-B
Nada Dada 2010: Our Year
"Emily Vaughan and Becca Johnston from Redding, Calif., finish up their artwork Friday in preparation for their "Art Vert" motel gallery as part of NadaDada at the Town House Motor Lodge in downtown Reno." VINCE ALONZO/RGJ
(also watch our interview with Brian bird in the link of the title)
So, as many of you may, or may not, know every year in the 3rd weekend of June for the last 3 or 4 years Reno flexes it's Acrylics, metals, neon's, markers and any other artistic appendage we can think of. And this year being my second year I decided to ask my better half to do a show with me. The feedback the public gave us was immeasurably amazing, monumental even. We had people who have never desired art a day in their life tell us this made them want to go home and Paint, Build, deconstruct, reconstruct, or just hang anything. This was an easy task to desire considering our theme was ART VERT "Green Art", meaning all the materials were found. Lots of cardboard, wine bottles, even canvas wallpaper. We had a blast and are so pumped that we came home immediately planning new pieces. Any ways here is an article we were in, enjoy and send me some feedback on what you think. ARTISTIC ANARCHY, the only way to show.
Reno Gazette-Journal SAT, JUN 19, 2010
(Front page bottom center)
NORTHERN NEVADA MOMENTS
From paintings and photography to sculpture and performance art, it's all about artistic freedom. That's what participants are saying about NadaDada, an independent artwork exhibition in downtown Reno this weekend. This year, about 100 artists are expected to exhibit their art for locals and visitors. (see next page)
NadaDada showcases thriving art scene in Renoby Victor Calderon
Anything goes this weekend at the NadaDada independent artwork exhibition in downtown Reno, from a female performance artist in a bathtub representing wildlife impacted by the oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico to a sculpture made out of bacon.
NadaDada, now in its fourth year, has grown considerably. This year, about 100 artists, both locals and visitors, are expected to exhibit their art. The exhibit took place at the El Cortez for three years. But now it's expanded to nearly a dozen downtown Reno venues, mostly along Arlington Avenue.
From paintings and photography to sculpture and performance art, it's all about artistic freedom at NadaDada participants say.
"There are no rules," said Becca Johnston, an artist based in Redding, Calif., who has an spray paint art exhibit titled "ART VERT" in a room at the Town House Motor Lodge. "It's artistic anarchy."
The motels that are hosting artwork allow artists to rent rooms where they can display their work.
At Town House, that includes handbags from a Lemmon Valley artist who goes by the name "Firejewel," fantasy art by Reno artist E. John Warner, and a topical exhibit against the oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico that includes fake fish covered in black paint symbolize oil.
The Article goes on into other artists works, I would get permission from them but I'll get back to that later. ANYWAYS, that's our new claim to fame.
Thanks again to anyone who made it to the show, and to those who will attend those in the future. Emily and I had a lot of fun and can't wait to get to it again... Who knows maybe even one a little closer to home.
20091226
a message from the management
Strange writing a blog, I'm so used to writing down my thoughts but they always sit up in a cubic shroud of shadow and dust. Until I clean out my skeletal closet party and find them with times cruel battering. But I read it anyway and I always edit my grammar, then completely criticize all my work and it's irrelevance. So I guess that's why I thought no one would want to read what I have to say.
Though blogging is a new art to me, I finally understand why people do it. I'm so stranded in a digital sea up here, no first mate, no sight of land, and all these thoughts just pound away at the masts of my sailing mind like a hurricane brought by Neptune himself. With every glimpse of the moon from under the waves I catch each opportunity for breath as briefly as the decision to sink or swim has hit my body. It instinctively wants to fight it's way out, but soon enough, exhaustion sets into me and my motor skills.
So what can we do to not drown?
I'll tell you, Aquaman isn't going to save ya, YOU have to want it. Your will to be successful and happy are totally up to you. I say this because I need to hear it as well. I have to believe that good things come to those who wait and that the end will justify the means. In this life time we've seen everything from Jerry curls and Zubazz pants to cell phones and online colleges. It's no wonder that kids are depressed suffering from anxiety issues at the ripe mature age of 9. For some reason the generation following the baby boomers were so hell bent on not being their parents that they were overly involved in their child's lives. In my opinion, granted we all have one, and all of us should probably not be heard.
And truly if you got this far I hope you don't find me completely insane, granted I have a healthy dose of mad behavior. See this as merely the beginning of a new periodical of current events of the mind, soul, and image. This is to be a safe haven for those of you who have a desire to say what you feel has been muted in side of you for to long. please, tell me everything.
Though blogging is a new art to me, I finally understand why people do it. I'm so stranded in a digital sea up here, no first mate, no sight of land, and all these thoughts just pound away at the masts of my sailing mind like a hurricane brought by Neptune himself. With every glimpse of the moon from under the waves I catch each opportunity for breath as briefly as the decision to sink or swim has hit my body. It instinctively wants to fight it's way out, but soon enough, exhaustion sets into me and my motor skills.
So what can we do to not drown?
I'll tell you, Aquaman isn't going to save ya, YOU have to want it. Your will to be successful and happy are totally up to you. I say this because I need to hear it as well. I have to believe that good things come to those who wait and that the end will justify the means. In this life time we've seen everything from Jerry curls and Zubazz pants to cell phones and online colleges. It's no wonder that kids are depressed suffering from anxiety issues at the ripe mature age of 9. For some reason the generation following the baby boomers were so hell bent on not being their parents that they were overly involved in their child's lives. In my opinion, granted we all have one, and all of us should probably not be heard.
And truly if you got this far I hope you don't find me completely insane, granted I have a healthy dose of mad behavior. See this as merely the beginning of a new periodical of current events of the mind, soul, and image. This is to be a safe haven for those of you who have a desire to say what you feel has been muted in side of you for to long. please, tell me everything.
20091218
20091130
"bouseki kakou"
Walking through the park i saw a child,
Arms out wide facing the sun.
Letting it's beautiful rays fill and kiss her face.
As i passed, she grabbed her skirt and started a spin...
Slow at first than picking up speed.
The light bouncing off her curls.
Like a tangle of vines in a vineyard:
Full of life and good spirits.
Suddenly she fell.
As she sat there stunned and dizzy her mother raced over to hold her.
I took a second glance and saw it was me holding you.
So small, fragile, and lost
Wiping your tears away surrounding you with assurance in my arms
"Don't worry" I said " I've got you, it's ok" dusting you off as i stand
You only smile and start to spin again,
To disappear only to leave the little girl in your cloud of dust...
The girl spinning, spinning, spinning again.
As if nothing had happened
Dirt flying off her dress as she goes
Only to fall again...
Only this time, no mother
Frightened, lost, and alone she holds her knees to her chest and cries.
I walk over and knelt down to help her...
She looks up
And our eyes meet
It was me...
b 3-27-09
Arms out wide facing the sun.
Letting it's beautiful rays fill and kiss her face.
As i passed, she grabbed her skirt and started a spin...
Slow at first than picking up speed.
The light bouncing off her curls.
Like a tangle of vines in a vineyard:
Full of life and good spirits.
Suddenly she fell.
As she sat there stunned and dizzy her mother raced over to hold her.
I took a second glance and saw it was me holding you.
So small, fragile, and lost
Wiping your tears away surrounding you with assurance in my arms
"Don't worry" I said " I've got you, it's ok" dusting you off as i stand
You only smile and start to spin again,
To disappear only to leave the little girl in your cloud of dust...
The girl spinning, spinning, spinning again.
As if nothing had happened
Dirt flying off her dress as she goes
Only to fall again...
Only this time, no mother
Frightened, lost, and alone she holds her knees to her chest and cries.
I walk over and knelt down to help her...
She looks up
And our eyes meet
It was me...
b 3-27-09
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