David Petersen Artworks

There was something on my mind a moment ago but it seems to have passed. It wasn’t necessarily hilarious or controversial, though it was disparaging. I was gonna rag on something. What was it…? Oh yeah, me!

Anyway, as I said, the moment has passed and the sun has suddenly come out, so screw it. Let’s keep it positive. Instead of poo-pooing the new images I have on the Artworks, images of art that should have been on there months ago, images of art from both here and New York, art that was mostly destroyed in transit from NY, art that will now R.I.P. in a cardboard box somewhere in the cellar, I will feign excitement of their new incarnation on the Internet. Ta-da!

Courtesy of Free Will Astrology, by Rob Brezny, for the week of May 15, 2008, the horoscope for Sagittarians like myself:

“In his folk song ‘Farewell to the Gold,’ Nic Jones tells the story of a failed gold prospector. After two years of finding no more than a few flecks of the precious metal, the unlucky man is giving up his search. ‘Farewell to the gold / that never I found,’ he sings. ‘Goodbye to the nuggets / that somewhere abound. / For it’s only when dreaming / that I see them gleaming / down in the dark deep underground.’ If I’m reading the omens correctly, Sagittarius, it’s time for you, too, to say goodbye to a quest that hasn’t panned out. Yes, it’ll be sad. But here’s the happy ending: Within a month of the time you surrender, you’ll be led to a better quest with more chance of success.”

It wasn’t exactly one of the choices on the poll, but well said. I’d better drink on this one.

Knock-knock.

Whyyoustillbloggin’

Whyyoustillbloggin’ who?

Whyyoustillbloggin’ when I heard that nobody reads yer shit.

Ouch, that’s cold.

Let’s maybe make this a short read with a small chore. We’ll take a poll. The world is full of polls right now, what’s one more?

Should I:
a)keep the blog alive?
b)let the blog quietly and peacefully pass on?
c)eliminate the writing while continuing to find and post humorous if not always art-related photos?
d)give up the art charade once and for all?
e)go back to college for yet another difficult to obtain but real-world obsolete degree in art history or some shit that might let me eventually work on a Ph.D?
or
f)just get a library card?

I read now that Robert Rauschenberg passed away Monday. I suppose that makes a lot of people sad, and I am sorry to hear about that. His work has always somewhat confused me, not necessarily because of the work itself, but rather because I have rarely agreed with what the critics and historians have said about his work. Like when Saltz called him an ‘artist suicide bomber.’ What the fuck is that all about? Seriously Jerry, even R.R. knew when to say when on the theatrics. Maybe the writers have more intimate information about his intentions than I do, which is likely the case. Anyway, I am hesitant to go into it. Maybe they have Ph.Ds and I don’t. Sleep well Bobby, sleep well.

Sheesh, this is getting more morbid by the minute. How are the results of the poll coming along? Let’s hit the newsdesk… So far not a single vote for any of the six choices. The art world has spoken, very softly. I guess the seventh choice was either:
g)how about take yer poll and shove it?
or
g)since when did you have a blog?

Since back in the day.

Already it has been at least three weeks since visiting New York and still I am finding it difficult to focus on anything but the following: my death-defying cross-Brooklyn (and first) ride on a tall bike; vegan chili dogs; and the unclassifiable new sculptures by Bryan Savitz that defy not only categorization and definition, but a fixedness and stability, not through denial but rather by their protean ability to exist in various roles (art-historical, aesthetic, conceptual, etc.) simultaneously. Just take a look:

The photos do them absolutely no justice, but that’s the internet for you. Guess you had to be there. www.rare-gallery.com

I have tried to keep up with the deluge of events that have been taking place the last two weeks, but I succumbed in drunken-like exhaustion at a certain point. Probably just blacked out and went zombie style. And that was like Wednesday. Fortunately, my domestic partnership requires that a small surveillance camera be attached somewhere on my person, just in case of benders and the like. Here is a run-down of the tape.

Saturday night, I ditched out on the family when local artist and deadbeat like myself, Ruben N. picked me up in his newly-tricked out German automobile. Umber studios received us like we had just scored a half dozen Eightballs, which he had. Though the imagery is somewhat blurry, it appears we were taking in the reception for the collaborative drawing, painting and collage work of Andy Ducette, Ric Stultz and Michael Winslow. But you would have thought the party was for us - the lights weren’t even on when we showed up and I don’t even know who those artist guys are, but once we did, that 42nd St. art space began to glow.

Tuesday afternoon, Minneapolis/St. Paul airport, a pair of recent GED recipients-turned security guards inexplicably get way too rough with me during my attempt to retrieve pretty much world famous artists Jo Jackson and Chris Johanson. The newly arrived visitors were aghast at the sight of their driver slammed face down on the pavement atop his half-finished six pack. Talk about slamming some brewskis! (Too easy.)

Thursday night, Walker Art Center, after an absolutely hilarious and mind-altering conversation between the visiting artists, we are chased willy-nilly through Loring Park by ravenous paparazzi and random player haters, down Hennepin Avenue, across half of downtown until we reach the Monte Carlo, one of Minneapolis’ oldest restaurants. Thank goodness they were still serving dinner, but seriously, it’s 2008, guys can keep their hats on at the table.

Saturday night, the big Opening Reception at Art of This for the visiting artists, a tremendous and supportive turn-out of locals who like to have a good time. A quick apology to the TAC faithful who showed up with bells on, only to be slightly slighted by the guests of the night. That was the most youth we have ever had at the space, and we hope you won’t forget where we are. Big ups, as they might say.

If you were at the Dirtbombs show and I didn’t say hello, it may have been because I was too blown away by their cover of INXS’ Need You Tonight. It’s unexplainable, but goddamm, for one rainy Saturday night it was the jam. Here’s the image from my low-jack.
This may have been the longest bloggity-blo-blog of my life. The past four weeks have just been that way. There should be all sorts of wacky spectacky coming up in the the not-too-far future and I hope to see you there, or at the very least, capture you on video so I can watch it at home the next day. C’mon!