September 2011

Supplemental Reading / Listening / Viewing on the Steve Gleason Story…

Posted on September 27, 2011September 27, 2011 by Varg

I read more words in a dead tree edition than I have in a many years Sunday afternoon. Like almost everyone around town I was gripped and saddened by the Steve Gleason story. More so because earlier that week I was cleaning up the iTunes folder and listened to several podcasts on not only ALS…

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‘vanquished villain’

Posted on September 25, 2011 by Varg

An action-narrative piece on triumphing over any sort of obstacle, but this one depicts a protagonist using a paintbrush (art) to triumph over a sword wielding villain (complacency, doubt, insecurity, rejection). The positioning of the heroine’s feet on the hill portray a better position for triumph over the back-peddling antagonist. The star indicates that since…

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Nola on Netflix Instant

Posted on September 20, 2011 by Varg

Even though they have pissed everyone off recently (though I remain in a perpetually far more pissed off state in regards to Cox and their worthless service), there is somewhat of a loose course in New Orleans social history going on if you seek it out… Some of this is review for locals. A lot…

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Repost from January 2007

Posted on September 15, 2011September 15, 2011 by Varg

I just thought I would dig these images out from when The Chicory was just a wee blog. Please Saints. Fuck these fuckers up and savor the ass whipping…

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Casey Jones!

Posted on September 13, 2011 by Varg

I have been meaning to post these photos of the taxidermy animals at Casey Jones Supermarket in Gretna for a long time. Casey Jones is a family-owned store that is a warm departure from Wal-Mart or even Rouses. One time, I asked the teen kid for a bottle of whiskey and he hollered at the…

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A Personal History of Ethics in Journalism

Posted on September 7, 2011September 7, 2011 by Varg

I had an editor at La Jolla Light back in 2001 who was essentially hired as a Winston Wolf-like cleaner. We had a paper that would print anything: Recycled press releases, stories not relevant to the community, editorials on whatever subject that anyone on the staff wanted to write (including interns). The paper lacked any…

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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.