If It Bleeds

Posted on January 12, 2007 by Varg

Two headlines on the front page of CNN right now: 9 murdered in 10 days, Shot dad held baby. You can imagine what the stories are about.

There was a story about the march on the front page yesterday (it low-balled the attendence, calling us a crowd of 1,000). It was above the fold for maybe an hour. Below the fold for maybe eight. Then it vanished. Both the above stories happened last week.

The story in New Orleans right now should be focused on the reaction of City Hall, which is the fallout of the march, which was fall out from the murders, which is the fallout of not Katrina, but years of corruption by local politicians and a dysfunctional school system.

If you ask me, that blue-eyed devil Anderson Cooper is missing one point and hammering another home. The march was the real story yesterday. They covered it, but used it as a back drop to the horror of Helen Hill’s murder (saying nothing of the dilapidated house used as a backdrop to Bart’s interview). That’s the “sexy” story. That’s the car accident that will back up traffic on the freeway of American news junkies. Nevermind Dinneril Shavers. Nevermind Jealina Brown. Nevermind Central City. The murdered white woman is who American cares about.

Not sure but I think that’s Brahma bullshit.

1 thought on “If It Bleeds”

TM says:

January 12, 2007 at 7:25 pm

Your point is very valid. But, the “sexy” story is the one that gets the attention. Call me simplistic, but I’m glad A.C. went on the air with it at all. Alot of people watch him and they got the message….”we are mad as hell and we’re not gonna take it anymore!”
And I believe that’s a good thing.
It was great to finally meet you yesterday! I was very proud when you held up the Algiers sign — I was mad at myself for forgetting to wear my Algiers tee shirt.
Oh well, next time!

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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.