David Petersen Artworks

Egads! I have put my stinky foot into my big fat mouth again. No, that’s not it. My big fat mouth let my flabby lips flab away again. Again! And, as usual, it is my own undoing. Every time I start gabbing it up with the press, godluvem, I wind up saying something that seems completely casual, an innocent conclusion to the conversation. Just a comment, a throwaway, pleasant perfunctory. But no, the tape was still rolling, the journalist’s mind still probing for a simple sound bite, a sexy little quip for quotation. Oh bless their underpaid hearts. Just stop using the stupidest of the stupid things I say. Sheesh.

First, and this was like a year ago, so I only fret about it before I go to bed at night and then again at 4 a.m. when Annie has to get up to feed the baby, it was the 8 a.m. phone interview that was all about how Art of This operates and why it was showing a certain artist and how the project was a development in the young artist’s work. Yet somewhere in all this drowsy artspeak I let slip some irrelevant insignificance that this artist’s work was trendy and seemingly accessible for young collectors. Oh, and I am sure I said it loud and dumb, but how was it germane to the conversation? What did it have to do with the artist’s project? And why would that be the only line that made it into print? Art of This doesn’t even sell work (note to painters)!

Skip ahead to this afternoon during my daily perusal of the Internet, all of it, when I come across a preview for Angela Zammarelli’s February 9 exhibition at Art of This. It’s an excellent piece. Complete with background of both artist and gallery, the preview captures the spirit of Angela’s work as well as why it is a good fit at AOT. We, artist and gallery, really couldn’t ask for much more. But good old petersen’s (sic) gotta keep running at the gums, the dumbass. Concluding the excellent and much-appreciated article (please keep up the good work on the good work) is a punctuating piece of pitiful ‘I am a complete and utter nimrod.’ And again, I am quite sure the words were in fact expelled from my mouth, the words referring to Angela’s work being, ‘It’s pretty nuts,’ although it is quite possible and maybe even rather likely that the words may have been ‘It’s pretty fucking nuts,’ or simply ‘Fucking nuts.’ At this point, the concluding line might as well read, ‘Fuck, am I high.’ At least then a stingy Victorian editor may have given the line the ax.

The point of all this regretful, neurotic babbling is that despite the benefits of a working relationship with members of the Fourth Estate, I will inevitably leave a few loose threads blowing in the wind for a writer to use against me. And I would ask that they not do this anymore, or at the very least attempt to excise the unnecessary idiocy, but that might risk a reluctance to preview shows at Art of This, and that would bum me out. This would also greatly disappoint my mother, who really gets off on my looking like a monosyllabic dimwit in print. The lesson to be learned is that, strangely, this isn’t about just me, it is about the artists. And if a few poorly chosen phrases turn up in such a way as to make the artist look a little better and a whole lot smarter, well, then I guess I have done my job. Fucking nuts.

Wassup nerds! I just finished a double shift of breakfast and lunch at the CC Club and realized I’d better get this in before passing out on the sweet, less than sparkling, less than ceramic tiles of my bathroom floor. Correct me if I am wrong, but tomorrow is Art Shanty Project day out on Medicine Lake. Although it appears that the weather won’t be bone-chillingly cold like last weekend, I hope you are all able to attend. Of course, more people will probably show because of the warmer temperatures, but where’s the fun and excitement in that? There will be little to no risk of frostbite, hypothermia or death. And let’s be for real, if there is no risk of death, what’s the freaking point? Like my breakfast this morning. Don’t get me wrong, breakfast was great, completely thirst-quenching. But I could still focus my eyes. So we stuck around, did a meet and greet with the suckers who worked all morning, and got our bellies back to the bar. Where’s the danger, you ask? I am really not sure. I am also not sure why there are french fries in my pants pockets. Must’ve gotten the munchies. Did I mention I am high as a kite?
What is going on here? All I wanted to do was invite you to the Art Shanty Projects on Medicine Lake, wherever that is, and listen to me on the radio tomorrow. Listen to me, me, me. I could also use some help with talk-radio topics because, unlike last weekend, there is no football game to simulcast. And since there can’t be too many people interested in me talking sports, sports, sports all day - which I can totally do - feel free to swing on over to the K-ICE shanty with some beer and we’ll have a chat. Or, if you are radio shy, just drop off a sixer and watch me go. Seriously, come on out, there’s bike races and karaoke and wild dogs and a bunch of hip, normally fashion-conscious artists in frumpy, lumpy winter clothing they wouldn’t want to be caught dead in. So there is some danger after all.

11 January, 2008, 1900 hours, Art of This Gallery hosts the launch party of the Abandoned Antarctic Research Post. The event is well attended but Petersen is sick as Shackleton after crossing the Ross Ice Shelf.
12 January, 2008, 1400 hours, the Abandoned Antarctic Research Post lands and is erected on Medicine Lake. Part of the Art Shanty Project, the AARP (isn’t that for old people?) is assembled in less than 5 hours. The Knitting Shanty is set up in 45 minutes. It is not even a very cold day.
15 January, 2008, 1000 hours, a visit to Research Post is made in an attempt to seal up the many air leaks that are integral to the shoddy construction. Efforts are aborted when someone’s cranky 6-month old daughter gets even crankier.
18 January, 2008, 2000 hours, the ARP! (not to be confused with AARP) release party begins at Art of This Gallery.
2400 hours, inspired by the two screenings of Fernand Leger’s ‘Ballet Mecanique,’ ARP! editor Tiffany Hockin is seen tackling the bar in the basement of the gallery.

19 January, 2008, 0900 hours, Team Abandoned Antarctic Research Post arrives bright and early to its shanty. The temperature is absurdly low and when John Marks’ thermos of coffee shatters while getting out of the van, all hope is seemingly lost.
1100 hours, the first item is abandoned at the AARP. The easy money was on a receipt or a used tissue, but the Team was shocked to receive ‘directions to Judd’s.’ The item was promptly bagged and labeled.
1300 hours, Sean Connaughty abandons a stick of weeks-old beef jerky that he regretfully took a bite of in the dark the night before.
1400 hours, Petersen has his photo taken in the Snapshot Shanty by artist Molly Roth. Unfortunately, she mistakenly took thirty seconds of what is now a terribly embarrassing YouTube clip of the portrait-sitter trying to remember how to smile without affect.
1600 hours, visitors to AARP arrive with a bottle of Canadian whiskey, several nearly unbearable hours late.
1700 hours, the sun is close enough to setting for me, let’s get the hell outta here. The day’s high temperature on the lake is -6º.
20 January, 2008, 1200 hours, Petersen returns to Medicine Lake, armed with a thermos of coffee, a can of Miller High Life and a mysterious optimism he can’t quite put his frosty finger on.
1230 hours, Paper Snow Flake Appreciation Day in the Medicine Lake Drawing Club. Tim Nickodemus everybody, give him a round of applause.
1300 hours, a quick visit to the Postal Shanty. Fill out postcard, give Gabe Welker a High Five and we are on our way.
1400 hours, David Pitman, host of the K-ICE 97.7 radio station shanty has the balls to hand over the microphone to Petersen. This is followed by 2 hours of a nearly un-listenable rebroadcasting of the 2008 AFC Championship game between the San Diego SuperChargers and the New England Patriots.
1600 hours, Petersen is invited back to call the Super Bowl in two weeks.

There you have it. It has been terrifically cold and tremendously fun out on the frozen lake that is my Antarctica. We’ll see ya out there.