David Petersen Artworks

There was some writing - words words words - and a couple of images - this that and the other thing - to complement the upcoming exhibition, Opposing Thumbs, at Art of This, new work by John Marks and myself, David Petersen for those of you with short memories. Like myself. But I lost it. The writing and the pictures. Some of it made it onto the web, this blog type site in particular. But for the most part it is all gone. Dog ate it. Computer ate it. I got hungry and ate it myself. Either way, these materials got lost in the shuffle of the 3-Card Monty that is becoming our show. Coincidentally, so did most of the work for the show. Or maybe we just forgot to make anything. Possibly, the new interns misplaced the sculptures, videos, drawings, and performances that we talked about creating at a certain, but possibly imagined, time and place. Could have been that I set it on top of the van before putting my daughter in her car seat only to forget to take it down before driving away. Happens with my coffee all the time.

This, of course, is all besides the point as the opening for the show is in six days. That is about the amount of time it took to build the Empire State Building, so we should be okay. The best part is, this lack of information and imagery, and of course, actual art work is going to make for quite the surprise for just about everyone, ourselves included. After all, isn’t that what Saturday nights are all about? Of course (one more time).

See you tonight!

Or in this case, Flying Leopard. Kate Craig, 1974.

For those of you following the Artworks over the past couple of days will be ready for what follows: the submissions to our Open Call. If you are visiting for the first time, dial down to the previous entry for some vital background information.

Paddy Johnson: http://www.thelmagazine.com/newyork/the-decade-in-art-more-interactive-than-ever/Content?oid=1482995

Saul Fletcher, Untitled, 2005

almosthere_press_long.pdf

Keep it coming and we will do the same!

Well, hello there. How are you? It has been a long time. Did you miss us? We missed you. Of course we did. It has really been such a long time.

Let’s get down to business. We are looking for work. Work of our own, your work, and the work of others. Like art. Got any? Know of some? Send it on over. We are open. A clean slate. White box. Unprimed canvas. Bring it.

Ideas, thoughts, hypotheses, fully tested theories. No experiments. Seriously - and this may be somewhat of a rant - but we have had it up to here with ‘experiments.’ They are usually not experiments whatsoever. Just stop it. Call it ‘play,’ ‘practice,’ or ‘trying shit out.’ No more experiments. But projects will do. Schemes, either thought out or half-cocked. Even hare-brained. Too broad? Maybe we should have started with more traditional stuff. Sketches and drawings of course. Doodles. Renderings. Paintings. Watercolors, if they aren’t too pretty. Tattoos if you can figure out the shipping. Photographs of either the old fashioned silver gelatin or new fandangled digital variety. Those Giclée prints will do. As many photocopies as you can possibly scam for nothing. Or screenprints, lithographs, engravings, woodcuts, intaligo, mezzotints, aquatints, or even a drypoint. Collages. Assemblages. Papier-maché. Maybe something you made with a chisel. Or spun on a wheel. Sculptures. Installations. Sculptural installations. Accumulations. Collections. Appropriations. Assignments. Instructions. Broken shit. Fixer-uppers. Games or activities. Brainteasers. Workshops. Skits. One-act plays. Operas or even just an aria. A made-for-TV mini series. Sit-coms. Documentaries. YouTube/Vimeo/any-other-video-site-we-don’t-know-about-yet clips. Animations. Videos. Films. Got porn?  Projections. Smoke signals. Computer programs. Interactive websites. Algorithms. Secret codes. Spam. Poems. Articles or essays. Manifestos (someone has got to still be writing these things). Non-fiction. Novels and/or novellas. Children’s stories. Lullabies. Comic books. Zines you spent all night making with your friends. Love letters. Unfinished business. Stolen merchandise. Re-gifts. Leftovers. Gestures. Hints. Dreams. Things. Stuff. Junk. We will take it all.

Too many options? Not quite enough? If we left something out, let us know. Our list wasn’t meant to be absolutely comprehensive. So go ahead, surprise us. We are open to anything. And we have all the space in the world. If you send something, we will care for it and share it. You get all the credit. We just want it. Everything. We want your everything.

Submissions may be sent to david@artofthis.net or via post to AOT.  Please look it up.

Coming soon! More Ping Pong Table Tennis. The fine folks over at They Will Never Find Us Here Gallery have invited us to install the above Table Tennis Ping Pong table in their lovely space. 3500 Bryant Ave. S. Go around back. There will probably be a campfire. And the best part is, it will be December 5, 2009. Get there and get warm with some Ping Pong Table Tennis.

My website is broken!

Photos posted to the blog now look like crap. Now, when I image search my own name on the Google, you can’t tell the difference of one David Petersen from another.

Can anyone help?

Well, I did it again. For only the second time during my tenure as the trustee of this here website/blog/internet rag, I have gone an entire month without making a sole entry. The funny part is, I meant to post something last night, but I thought last night was tonight. I mean, I thought tonight was the last day of the month, but September still has only 30 days. I wish I could get that straight.

Meanwhile, young Andy Sturdevant, local know-it-all and tell-it-all, has posted 181 entries on his blog, South 12th. As far as I can tell, he writes something every single day, without fail. Not that I have read all of them, what do I look like, a guy with a lot of free time to read blogs all day long? And who is this Andy Sturdevant anyway?

That all said, I know there are a few people out there, somewhere, who still read this nonsense every once in a while. So I am re-re-dedicating myself to the blogosphere. And if I run out of ideas, I will just re-post the link to Sturdevant’s page.

These residencies are really quite a trip, no pun intended. A vacation from real life, one gets to ditch out on their home, work, and any other responsibility so they can go ‘make art.’ Or whatever one is supposed to do while on holiday - I mean as an artist-in-residence. Because I do not really know what this is, I somehow wound up making two videos. Have I mentioned this already? Since when do I make videos?
However, there is plenty of down time when ‘in residence.’ Remember the inflatable pool project? Or how about the bike ride to the baseball game. Of course, with no money in the budget for tickets, there is always the free view from the right field corner and the friendly fans who don’t mind telling you the score or the count of an at-bat.

At least this time I didn’t spend hours on end watching countless episodes of The Family Guy.

Yesterday morning I finally put on my ‘community event’ which was quite a hit. Not as formal as planned, I cooked up about 50 pancakes for the other residents and staff that were around on the Sunday morning. But I forgot to use the fancy plates I found in a box on the third floor. And there was not one snap shot for documentation. So it goes. I guess you had to be there.
That, I suppose, is what these residencies are all about. Being there. As long as you can suppress all the guilt of abandoning everything back home, it’s totally cool. You have a ton of free time to do whatever you want, to actually focus on making something (what a trip down memory lane), to meet a bunch of other creative and focused artists and to have a clean conscious to boot.
But now it is all over, or at least this is my last full day, one that will be mostly tying up the myriad loose ends frayed by my having no idea how a residency really works. There is no pomp and circumstance, no going away party, not even a certificate of participation or a ribbon. You just exchange email addresses or business cards, shake some hands and leave. And go back to real life. And that ain’t half bad.