…The Fuck?

Posted on March 18, 2011March 18, 2011 by Varg

What intern was left in charge overnight at Nola.com? Who made the decision to put a damn frog in a Hawaiian shirt wearing sunglasses on the front page of the ~~paper~~ Web site? Is the weather the main story in New Orleans this morning? Who drew that fucking thing? Was it the same person who posted it?

EDIT: Looks like I’m the foolish one for shitting all over our “unique culture.”

7 thoughts on “…The Fuck?”

liprap says:

March 18, 2011 at 7:17 am

Ohhhhh, boy, I think you need to chat with the yaller blogger about the frog.
Silentbacchus says:

March 18, 2011 at 9:22 am

Look before you leap next time…
Cade Roux says:

March 18, 2011 at 10:24 am

I think Varg does have a valid issue (at least from the point of view of design) with about how much the frog dominates the page.
Tim says:

March 18, 2011 at 11:29 am

Dude, I thought you were cool. I looked up to you. But now I find out that you’re a speciest frog-hater. Whatever.

Peace,

Tim
liprap says:

March 18, 2011 at 11:43 am

It IS a honking big frog on the page.
Varg says:

March 18, 2011 at 7:33 pm

Where’s the fun in looking before leaping?
rickacrossdariver says:

March 18, 2011 at 9:10 pm

that frog was one of the many reasons i started reading the states item and the times picayune as a kid.

my mom would give me two dimes to walk down the street and pick up a copy of each.

she loved the fact that i would s.t.f. up and read the papers while she was making dinner.

i was so happy when they brought him back.

hope your well , you frog hater. : )

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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.