May 2010 – Page 2

Blood of the Earth

Posted on May 14, 2010July 14, 2010 by Varg

I’m not sure if the BP Gulf Volcano has surpassed the Valdez in total amount but I am thinking it has. Even a layman would know a spill from a finite source (Exxon Valdez) would be a drop in the bucket compared to a gushing hole in the planet. Even though the fishing industry, oyster…

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If You See A Long…

Posted on May 13, 2010 by Varg

…driving a white Benz near the Shreveport area. Let him know peaps are looking for him. And ask him where the Deduct Box is. Shreveport police say the son of former Louisiana Gov. Huey P. Long is missing. Police say 88-year-old Palmer R. Long Sr. was last seen about 9 a.m. Wednesday leaving his residence…

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Gingrich: New Orleans ‘testbed of gov’t failure’

Posted on May 12, 2010July 14, 2010 by Varg

So says he in the AP His scope is short-sighted though as he blames Bush for merely the response and not the many administrations that ignored the flood protection issue and the Army Corps who designed the shitty, undermined, I-walls. And it’s also short-sighted in that New Orleans also a testbed of corporate failure evidenced…

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Ode to the Oyster

Posted on May 11, 2010July 14, 2010 by Varg

The oyster is celebrated with style here on Pacific Street in Old Algiers. Every year starting with a big shindig on New Years Day, we have a go at them with ravenous intensity. We even have an amulet, a gold oyster with a pearl Mardi Gras bead mounted in the middle to adorn he or…

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Virtues Extolled

Posted on May 6, 2010 by Varg

Listen to all the MFers in the country gushing about Nola music. I wouldn’t be surprised if the whole thing went real crazy pretty soon… Trombone Shorty’s Treme Sound New Orleans native Troy “Trombone Shorty” Andrews talks about growing up in Treme, in a new generation of jazz.

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Rejoice!

I say that a lot. I sign many pieces with it. I do this because I believe our lives are a true happenstance. A brilliant occurence from nothingness. We are so rare. We are so unlikely. And simply being born isn’t enough. From there we must survive, endure. So each morning, after our Sun departs and is reborn again. Please, for the sake of your ancestors and the Universe in general, hoist that cup of joe up and say, “Rejoice.”

Ours is a soulful existence. No matter how many McMansions, polyester fabrics, auto-tunes, modified foods and social networks we surround ourselves with, we are all still native, passionate beings made of ancient matter. We are organic and we have soul.

Wood also has a warm, soulful quality. Wood has a memory. It retains smells, traumas, events. It even has a calendar. This is why I have chosen it as my medium, for its old soul. I like to think the wood in my work is in its third incarnation. First a tree, then a home and now art. If you have a room that needs a little soul, get a piece. A room can never have enough soul.

My inspiration and subject matter comes from many sources, among them: Humanism, old ballads, trickster tales, flora and fauna, science, myths and folklore, stringed instruments, brass bands, amber spirits, lady vocalists, general relativity and quantum mechanics. Some of my pieces are there just to make a short, simple statement about what’s important in life. Some are more diffuse and abstract in meaning. A personal drama, an enduring line from a poem or novel, a poignant song lyric, the legacy of an important person, a fleeting thought … these are the subjects of my art.

I use hearts often because they are a very abstract way of depicting the human soul without also employing the very subjective human form. The symbolic heart is an apt representation for a person’s experience and essence. A body can immediatly conjure happiness, sorrow, youth, age, anger, bliss. These emotions can get in the way. Sometimes it’s simply about the experience.

I am the son of a sailor and a social worker, the grandson of a gypsy, a dancer and a nurse. I spent my youth moving from port city to port city, watching a lot of road go by and reading World Book Encyclopedia. After my parents settled down on the Gulf Coast, I was a miscreant youth, destroying cars and taking the wrongs things too seriously and the right things not serious enough. Eventually I began replacing my imagination with experience.

I will use any salvaged wood but prefer swamp cypress and longleaf heartwood pine.

I despise waste. Particularly the waste of organic matter. Trees are magnificent. They were here before we arrived and they’ll be around after we are gone. I’m making an effort to save as much wood as possible. Creating art is fun too. But beyond communicating with folks, but beyond making money ad providing for myself, beyond rescuing flooded parts, beyond reveling in the ethereal aroma of heartpine that hasn’t seen the light of day in 400 years, beyond all that, I am trying to make a simple comment on waste.