David Petersen Artworks

Well I have only been here four hours and already I have gotten in two fights at the airport, ran into two old rocker friends from way back when and been handed two different jobs. This is gonna be a good week. Oh, I also threw my camera in the river so there won’t be any photos for a while unless they are from the paparazzi, so you never know.

Apparently there have been concerns lately regarding my “stability.” Those concerns have been dispatched, as have those who raised them. What? A guy can’t disappear for a few days to make a little art? Somebody got a problem with a little drinking and yelling? Can’t handle a meltdown? Be gone.

It just so happens that me and Count Chocula scored some pretty sweet tickets to a hockey game. Problem was, it was in Edmonton, Alberta. That dude sure knows how to party, and that was just the beginning. But unfortunately, two weeks of some pretty solid “drink all day, drink all night” takes its toll on us old guys. I get cranky. The Count gets righteous. Next thing you know, you’re doing the spread eagle on the hood of a cruiser cause the dude in the Hummer just happens to be a city council something or other and he didn’t appreciate it when your U-lock removed his passenger side mirror. And the mounties really don’t being called ‘pig,’ ‘Dudley Do-Right,’ or ‘dicksucker.’

Needless to say I had some time on my hands. And a chance to clear the cobwebs out of my head and the booze out of my blood. And a few moments of degradation, deprivation and de-shit knocked out of me. All the better to get to work on my upcoming show, opening in twelve days mind you, in Brooklyn, NY.

So that is the story and I am sticking to it. Plus I got the Edmonton police record to show for it. As for those little pansy puffs back at the studio who wet themselves at my inconvenienced absence, good luck working with them nerds over at the copy shop. We don’t need ya.

Dear reader, we here at the Artworks need to express our sincerest apologies for the lack of communication. These times…these are not good times. Unfortunately, as the saying goes, the shit has hit the fan. The chicken that is the Artworks has had its head chopped off, the head being our inspiration, our leader, the guy who writes the checks around here. David has flown the coop. He’s lost it. For real. The Artworks staff has been barred from the studio, the ‘artist’ having barricaded himself inside, refusing to come out until who knows when. We can only assume that either he is awaiting some sort of epiphanous moment of art-making ‘Eureka,’ or he is lying dead on the studio floor. Or somewhere in between. Speculation can be maddening.

In the meantime, we are doing our best to compile the art pieces that are ready for shipment to Brooklyn, NY for the December 1st opening at the Arm Letterpress. Entitled, ‘SwingBoomHissFlush,’ this show is the uncalculated confluence of David’s ‘irrational addiction to an unconditional love of American sports’ and the ‘racially based hypocrisies (he) can only eat as crow from the giant porcelain platter that is (his) white guilt. His words, not mine. Anyhow, these new works of paper and print, if I may speak for the artist, begin a blind, destination-less backflip into a pool of play and player-hating, where the thrill of victory meets the agony of defeat in a cage match of allegory and Barry Bonds apologizing. Oh he’s lost it all right.