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These Get Old

Posted on February 3, 2009 by Varg

After 5 burglaries New Orleanian gives up, moving to Austin

These stories, they get old after a while. It’s generally the same, someone is leaving town, blaming something. I’ve read or listened to dozens of these just in the few five years I have nbeen here. Those who left who are checking in to say “That’s why I left.” Those who are about to leave who are saying, “This is why I am about to leave.” Those who are leaving who say, “Here’s why.”

And where ever they go, there they are.

I’ve kicked a couple cities on my way out myself.

As a 23 year-old Hospitality Industry barhopper in Pensacola, I made the decision to leave based on the city’s redundancy and to escape my intoxicated miscreant youth. People moaned that there was nothing to do all the time. I exited, chastised my friends and encouraged them to leave as well. Some did, others didn’t. I am better for my decision and I can say that those who stayed are doing fine as well.

As a 31 year-old Entertainment editor in San Diego, I was immersed in a superficial culture that tore down its landmarks and tried to create brand new ones. I was swamped by 800 sqaure foot properties for $300,000 and folks that judged me on my car and my southern accent. All my friends lamented the fact that they hated their home. Large, fake breasts and dance clubs with stanchions out front surrounded me. People complained about how fake it all was constantly. I made the decision to leave and was gone a few months later.

So now I live in a place where people tattoo the city’s symbol to their forearms and biceps. And I still hear complaints about the city and it’s crime problem and corruption and hurricanes. I guess I am becoming sort of a sophomore resident because stories about people leaving and kicking the city on their way out don’t intrigue me any longer. I don’t blame anyone for leaving. I utterly understand their decisions. Everyone’s thought about it. But if someone decides to leave I’m not sure it’s much of a news story. Because people are leaving cities they are sick of all over the country. And I am not sure what the purpose of another newspaper story or Internet scribe about leaving is. Is it going to inspire the police department or the local government to finally make an effort to improve? No.

What it might do is inspire other residents to leave as well and since GNO population continues to grow, I’m not sure how this story contributes to any sort of increasing trend.

So to anyone out there who has left, is think of leaving or is in the process of leaving. I appreciate your decision. I empathize with you. I welcome you back. But please don’t kick the city on the way out because you gave up the fight.

And to local media, these stories aren’t news, they are just life.

1 thought on “These Get Old”

  1. mikesmiley says:
    February 8, 2009 at 4:39 pm

    How about some “why I moved here” stories?

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3 Noble Truths

Know yourself. Know the Universe. Know yourself in the Universe.

Rev. Varg’s Artist Statement

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.

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