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Home BLOGS Guest Blog Feral Hymns of Oregon

Feral Hymns of Oregon
Written by Andreas Trolf   
Friday, 19 October 2007 08:47
Andreas hits up the great north and finds man love.
I went to Portland. This was ages ago. I am so behind in my blogging. I need to get my priorities straight. I guess it should go like this: blogging, sleeping, work, drinking. Or some variant of that.

Before heading off, we went to Toad and Bryce's art show. Outside, Matt and I compared mustaches (see how behind I am in the blogging? I've already won the banjo!) and later on I gave Casey a photo of a kitten that I'd been carrying in my shirt pocket for some reason.

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The next morning we made our final preparations for heading up to Portland. I went to meet everyone at the 24th street BART station.

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Dennis and Huckleberry were doing a couple of wall jammers. I hadn't considered it up until this point, but the sight of 10 not-exactly-clean kids with backpacks and water jugs might lead someone to suspect that we were itinerant travelers, i.e. homeless, and within minutes some nice folks from a street outreach program came up and offered us sandwiches and condoms. We thanked them for their concern but declined their offer on account of the sandwiches looking kind of gross (actually we told them that we had jobs and food, which their leader didn't entirely believe) and because condoms make my boner go away.

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Later that night we slept on a floor in Oakland. There were pet rats. And this upside-down flag pretty much sums it up. About a day later I found myself alone in Klamath Falls, Oregon. There's a pretty excellent skate park there and a freight yard and not much else. The only thing near the park was the prison. I slept on top of a hill near the park in a gazebo. This is just up the way from Mt. Shasta.

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I lay up there on my bedroll and read until the sun went down, trying my best to avoid park rangers and busybodies. Once the sun had completely set it became pitch black and the wind kicked up. The stars made a billion pinpricks in the sky and there was no moon. It was cold and there was no one for miles around in every direction. It was wonderful.
I woke in the middle of the night. I must have had a bad dream because I immediately felt ill at ease. I listened to the wind blowing through the hills and then became aware of the underbrush rustling all around me. Coyotes! I grabbed my knife and flashlight and prepared to fight to the death. Well, actually that's a lie. I did grab my knife and flashlight, but I tried to scare them away. Okay, that's a lie too. Half of me wanted to scare the coyotes off and be safe, but the other half wanted one of them to rush at me in a frenzy of fangs and spit. I pictured it so clearly all at once, standing on that hill: the coyotes would approach, cautiously at first, but then with growing curiosity. They'd easily pick up my man-smell and know I'd be delicious eating. The first one, braver than the rest, would run up and lunge for my arm, but I'd already have wrapped it in a heavy jacket. He'd sink his teeth in and I'd have him just where I wanted him. The coyote would shake like a dervish, hoping to pull me down but I'd already have sunk my knife to the hilt at the base of his skull. Then his friends would come on in a rush and a roar; growling, bared teeth, blood. And I would efficiently dispatch them all. The next morning I'd walk the two miles back into town wearing their pelts. I'd go right into a diner and order me up an omelet.

None of that happened. The coyotes never came any closer but just to be safe I hiked back down the hill a ways and hopped the waist high chain link fence surrounding the park. I took some photos while I ran around the bowls with my flashlight.

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Then after a while I went back to my gazebo and slept until dawn.

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I walked past the prison and through the freight yard and on into town. It was still before 6am and the streets were empty. Small town America is perhaps my favorite place. Not that it's only one thing in one location, but there's a similar feeling to each small town I've ever visited. It's this pervasive type of insulation that becomes obvious even when no one's around. Small towns are insular, but it's not a bad thing. To me it has more to do with community and inclusion. I like it when people greet strangers on the street and look them in the eye.

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I did stop at a diner near the highway to eat an omelet. The waitress was the same age as my mom and had an amazing rapport with all the regulars. I brushed my teeth and washed up in the bathroom, and when I came out my food was waiting. All the elderly couples in the diner said good morning to me, and when I got ready to leave the waitress told me that my food was on the house. I think she assumed I was homeless since I'd come in with a mess of a backpack and had washed in the restroom. I didn't want to argue with her about it, but I knew the check for my breakfast would come out of someone's pay, so I just tipped the amount of the bill. I thanked her and headed for the highway. Within 20 minutes this guy in an old orange MG pulled over and asked if I wanted to go to Ashland.

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I caught a few more rides through southern Oregon, primarily through the skatepark triangle of Ashland, Medford, and Jacksonville. I tried to skate but just ended up sleeping at the park in Ashland. There's a tiny stream, just a creek actually, right by the park and there are public restrooms. It's the perfect spot. When I woke up I ate some of the food I'd packed and skated for a bit with some little kids who were daring each other to roll into the bowl. I approached one their fathers to ask how to get to the highway. His immediate response was to tell me that he didn't have any money and for me to get the fuck away from him.

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After a while I decided to take the Greyhound the rest of the way to Portland. This was—by far—the worst part of the trip. Greyhound can be great if you're on a budget and need to be somewhere, but I'll be honest with you: for every interesting and coherent person you meet on the bus, there are going to be five or six or nine total dipshits. I've met some wonderful people on the bus and the conversations we had passed the miles effortlessly, but on this one short trip—just three hours up through Oregon—I was surrounded by idiots and mental incompetents. I'll make no excuses for using those terms either. And what's more, why is it that the dumbest people are also the loudest? Do they crave spectacle for some reason I just don't understand?

Please, bear with me and let me elaborate: I hate airports. I fly a lot and I still hate airports. I hate them for one single reason—they are a place you go to when you really want to be somewhere else. No one wants to go to the airport (or a train station or a bus station), but you have to go there in order to eventually go where you want to. You are a captive of the airport. I hate bus stations for this same reason, except that taking a bus is more democratic and populist than flying because it is cheaper. For me this means that not only do I not want to be at a bus station, just as no one else really wants to be there, but that I am going to be surrounded by grumpy people, loud people, agitated people who are beating their kids, teenagers trying to shoplift, ex-cons just getting out of prison…basically this: I don't deal well with being around people. You could call it misanthropy. I prefer to call it social anxiety. But pretty much I hate being around large groups of people. Whether or not I know these people is usually inconsequential, and so having to wait at a bust station, in 100 degree heat, covered in a layer of grime and blood (I slammed at the Ashland park), is pretty much my worst case scenario for traveling.

Here's what I wrote in my notebook:
There's a man waiting in line to use the soda vending machine. His arms and torso are normal but his legs are withered and at odd angles to each other. He's standing in line on crutches, wiping sweat from his face and from the back of his neck with a handkerchief. He looks as if he might cry at any moment. There's another man who keeps pacing the length of the waiting room, impatient because every bus has been delayed. He's got a long ponytail and is wearing a silk scarf and aviator glasses. A very frail looking woman, maybe 65 years old, is sitting next to me. Her head is unevenly shaved and is patchy on top and in the back. A dozen band-aids cover her arms. The soda vending machine is the kind where the sodas are displayed and a robot arm reaches up to your selection and places it into a tray below.
The driver gets lost three times on the way to the highway and takes the bus on a detour through a few residential streets while people on the bus are yelling at her to turn around and go back to the station for a new driver. She's staring intently into the mirror pleading with people to be quiet. Her Greyhound uniform has a huge grease stain on the back.

The people sitting near me on the bus would have been funny if not for the fact that they were so sad and, more to the point, incredibly annoying. Sitting directly behind me is a young hiphop white kid, constantly shouting into his cell phone stuff like, “What's crackin' niggaaa?? I got to fuck some hoes tonight for damn sure! Gonna fuck, gonna fuck! You know someone who can braid my hair in P-town?" Across the aisle from me is a middle aged black man, who I'm sure is going to fuck this kid up the next time he says “nigga." Behind the man are two other teenaged kids who are very quiet and keep their headphones on almost the entire ride. In front of me is a sad looking woman who surprises almost everyone on board when she shrieks into her phone, “Fuck you, Willy!" and then asks the woman across from her what the fuck she's looking at and if she'd like to get punched in the fucking face.

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Just above is the man who was sitting across from me. He hadn't brought any type of on-board entertainment with him, so he kept listening to his phone's ringtone over and over and over. It was agonizing. It consisted of a 10 second drum and bass midi loop that was just loud enough to annoy the fuck out of me. Just when I thought about asking him to please turn it off, the kid behind me said, “Hey nigga! You want some new ringtones?" At that point I felt sure there was going to be a fight, but the man just looked over his shoulder and said, “Huh?"
The kid repeated himself, “Ringtones…you know, for your phone! Does your phone got Bluetooth, ‘cause I can Bluetooth that shit to you, nigga!" Still no reaction from the man. To tell you the truth, I was itching to see these two go at each other. They were easily the two most annoying people I'd ever come into contact with and to see them pummeling each other would have been a pleasure. I'm sorry if that makes me a bad person, but I was at the end of my rope. I just wanted the kid to stop yelling into his phone (on speaker phone!!) and I wanted the man to stop playing his ringtone. It fucking sucked.
Anyways, the man just looked blankly and said, “Bluetoof?" to which the kid replied, “Yeah, it's like some thing inside your phone so I can send you stuff through the air." The man said he didn't know whether or not he had Bluetooth, but he decided to call his phone company to ask.
Here is his phone call, as close to verbatim as I can remember:

“Hello Sprint? Yeah. What color are the teeth on my phone?" Then there was a long pause, during which time I imagine the operator was either scratching his/her head trying to figure out where the teeth were supposed to go on a cell phone, or possibly laughing so hard that conversation became impossible. After the pause, “No no no, all I need to know is are the blue? Do my phone have blue teeth? That's what I said! Also, I downloaded Ms. Pac Man for my phone too, and what I want to know is why is it that every time she eats a power pellet she won't turn? That's right. Every time that bitch eats a power pellet the ghosts get her! She won't turn. Why is that?"
Finally he got off the phone, having figured out that his phone's teeth were not, unfortunately, blue. By this time, the kid behind me had stopped caring about sending the man any ringtones via Bluetooth and was back on the phone telling someone how some “fine fuckin bitches" had just gotten on the bus and he was “lookin to fuck in the bathroom!" He eventually hung up and asked the two quiet kids across the aisle if they had any weed. The one closest answered no and tried to go back to listening to his headphones, but the kid seemed more interested in sparking up a conversation. His next question was to ask the two if they'd ever done any time in prison. The same guy replied that they'd just both gotten out of a work farm where they'd spent that past 18 months. The thuggy white kid responded with an enthusiastic, “Daaaamn, that's tight! I was thinkin' about stealing a car up in Portland!"
Then the man started playing his ringtone over and over again, and between that and the kid behind me vocally asserting how he needed to fuck right away I was going slightly crazy. Finally, I just asked the man if he wouldn't mind turning his phone down a little bit. I half-expected to get yelled at, but was surprised when he said, “Sure thing. I didn't realize it was bothering anyone." But then he hastened to add, “Hey, you don't by any chance have something I could eat? I'm really hungry. I tried to buy some pizza in Medford but they wouldn't cash a check and I left my ATM card in Oceanside this morning." So I gave him a bag of trail mix and went to sleep, but not before he told me that he was going to rob a Pizza Hut at the next stop if that's what it took. 45 minutes later we arrived in Portland and I went to Pat Smith's house to sleep.

The next morning Pat had to go to work, so David, Dennis, Huck and I went to Burnside. The obvious first stop.

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I did a backside smith on the cinderblock wall. I love Burnside.

Caveat: The rest of this blog is going to be fairly skate-intensive. If you're not into that, you might want to bail now.

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Pat was busy working during the 100 degree days, so he lent me his car to check out some of the new parks that Portland just can't seem to get enough of.

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Glenhaven was first.

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David is our new intern at Lowcard. Sometimes Jonah the sales guy gets him too stoned to work. He leaves early on those days.

Pier Park was next. It's fucking massive.

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Then back to Pat, Derrick, and Brandon's for a summertime guitar jam/barbecue.

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We began to play this little game where one of us would stand at the farthest end of the yard (wearing safety glasses, of course) and someone else would take potshots with a bb gun. The more bb's you avoided, the better you did at the game. Well, maybe “game" isn't the most accurate term. We didn't tally points or anything; we mainly just got drunk and shot each other. There's a name for this type of behavior: idiocy.

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Pat shot me before I was ready, so I punched him in the chest. He complained about chest pains for two weeks afterwards, which just goes to show what a pussy he is.

After skating some more the next day, we began the circuit of Portland stripclubs. For those of you who've never had the pleasure, let me clarify something: when you go to Portland, it is inevitable that you'll end up at one or more stripclubs. Portland is just one of those places where there's no weird stigma attached with going to look at naked boobies and have a beer. Girls go too. Beers are cheap, and most clubs will have good, cheap food. At Mary's Club, for instance, you'll find Portland's finest burrito and $2 beers. The Magic Garden, just up the way, is the perfect dive bar—the kind you'd go to in your hometown—only as an added bonus, there are boobies! The Acropolis has a salad bar. We went there for breakfast and got omelets and homefries and tons of pancakes while the before noon b-team dancers chatted us up. Ever wonder where bad tattoos, knife scars, botched boob jobs, and c-sections go to die? Wonder no more…

These fine items were for sale in the men's room:

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Bill Clinton BJ references are pretty dated. Actually, were they ever funny to anyone who doesn't love Bill O'Reilly? Also, “instant pussy?" What the fuck could that possibly be? Unfortunately, I was out of quarters.

Later on we drove to the new park in Battleground, Washington, which is about 30 minutes outside of Portland. This park is wonderful. I can't say enough good things about it. It only further reinforces my desire to live in a small town in the Pacific Northwest. Big cities never get it right, but little hamlets like Battleground, made up only of a main drag and a few dusty shops, somehow manage to get a 60,000 square foot concrete masterpiece. Oh well. (Aside: Remember when there was a lot more skate-related stuff on fecal? Remember the fecal face games of skate? I hereby challenge Trippe to a game of skate. Burn!)

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I've been honing my photojournalism skills by taking photos of kids at skateparks. Is that still considered art? Anyone?

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This unfortunate youngster was busted for tagging on a barn behind the park. I hate the cops as much as the next skateboarder, but I couldn't blame them this time. The kid strolled nonchalantly through the parking lot, past the cops (who were pretty much just hanging out, not doing a god damned thing), and spray painted some shit on the wall. Fuck. Sheer balls or simple stupidity? Dude, go for it! Stick it to the man by writing your name on a barn, but maybe a little foresight perhaps? Maybe wait until the cops are gone? He was bummed.

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We left Battleground, mostly due to the 105 degree heat, and drove back towards Portland. On the way we stopped at 7-11 because it was rumored that they were giving away free Slurpees all day because of some promotion with the Simpsons movie. Well, we got there and it was true! It was also awesome! You could just hang out by the Slurpee machine and treat yourself! I saw a little fat kid with blue and red stains all around his mouth. He had that look of pure, unbridled sugar-lust in his eyes; he was wonked out of his mind! He told me in a herky-jerk squeal, “I had thirteen Slurpees!" and then ran down the aisle, knocking things over and screaming. It was wonderful.

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Back at Pat's it was decided to go and skate some more. Steve Healy was there. We went to Australia one time, which was also awesome. It was on that very same trip that Jerry Mraz and I found ourselves in possession of one of those neat Audi sports cars. I won't go into extensive detail, but it belonged to a prostitute! If you run into me at the bar, I'll be happy to elaborate.

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We went swimming with Rob. He's pretty rad and has one of my favorite nicknames of all time: the Vanilla Gorilla. It's because his hair is practically white and he's a big dude. Go figure.

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George and Amy live up in Portland as well. They're married so it's not sinful when they touch each other with lust in their hearts. But f.y.i. guys, it kind of makes everyone else in the room feel kind of weird.

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Leonard Houx was also there. He, just like Steve, Pat, and I, used to live in Brooklyn. Those were the days! No responsibilities, no jobs. Pat, Dan Pensyl, Damian Rodriguez, Dave Mason and I lived in this great squat and all we did was skate. I went to school, but that was about it. We had a pretty severe rat infestation problem, no heat, and once our pipes burst, but aside from that it was paradise. Josie lived across the street from us and KCDC was just up the way. Man, those were the days. Young and dumb with the world and its possibilities standing wide open! Now we're just dumb. Oh well. Leonard is a librarian.

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They have these weird bikes up in Portland where you have to pedal all the time. What the fuck is up with those fucking things? It's like a plague.

We eventually went to this other bar and got kicked out. I have no idea why.

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Oh. Right.

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There were some other San Francisco dudes in town as well. Timmy Jak didn't like skating Burnside so he shot some hoops.

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Josh, on the other hand, looked too emaciated to live much longer. Dude looks like he just came out of Bergen Belsen. I know it's not cool to crack wise about the Holocaust, but if we lose the right to do that we might as well stop telling retard jokes too. And I will never stop telling retard jokes! Ever.

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There's this great army surplus store in Portland called Andy and Bax's. I recommend going there. They have bb guns and lots of knives.

Back to skating and photographic lurking. These kids were excellent and for some reason ran to bring me my board every time I ate shit.

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In case you didn't notice this little dude's hairdo. At the end of the day, I gave them my board and they practically shit their pants. Little kids can muster this enthusiasm that I'm scarcely capable of anymore. I wish I could still get excited about anything.

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See? I can lurk on teenaged girls at the skatepark with the best of them. This young lady had skated right onto her face the previous day. She graciously allowed me to take her photo.

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Derrick and I are twins. Aren't we adorable?

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Derrick also has “crazy eyes."

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Pat went to New York but foolishly left me the keys to his car and access to his bedroom. That night we had a party! Screw you, Pat! Wicked burn! Although to his credit, Pat seemed genuinely disappointed that I didn't do sex to any girls in his bed while he was away. (Although I did rub one out while looking at his internet. Burn!)

There were fireworks.

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And then we played the shooting game again. Although this time at a much closer range. Brandon shot the crap out of me and I had to dig the bb out with my knife. My leg turned all purple and infected and two days later I discovered a shred of denim in the wound. Awesome!

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I went inside the house and discovered this:

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It was an unholy alliance of booze, cake, watermelon, and butcher knives.

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I also finally discovered what happens when you throw cake and a bucket of fried chicken into a ceiling fan.

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Someone called Pat and told him that the house was in shambles. This was his response:

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The next morning I was greeted by the sight of Huck's toes.

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That's right: COMA-TOES.

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There was also a bug and this weird sign. Let the immigration policy commenting begin!

So much more happened in Portland, but I don't want to waste your entire day. This blog has been just about long enough. Although Timmy Jak did get kicked out of this dance club one night. When I saw him he was being manhandled down a set of stairs by some humorless and gigantic bouncers. I tried to intervene and stopped him to ask why he was being thrown out. He stopped in the middle of the stairs, two bouncers still grabbing him by the neck, and said, “Because these two assholes don't have a sense of humor!" Then they threw him down the stairs. Turns out he'd tried to set our friend Bahram on fire.

Oh well. There's no life lesson hidden in any of this. It was just a bunch of stuff that happened. If I did learn anything, it was purely coincidental. But isn't it funny how many people get bummed out by the things you do? As if what anyone does has anything at all to do with anyone else. Everything you do is purely solipsistic. We never truly consider the consequences of our actions in advance and never set out to ruin anyone else's good times. It's just that everyone's ideas of happiness are separate and oftentimes mutually exclusive. People like to flatter themselves, though, and like to read into things and find a subtext that simply doesn't exist.
This has nothing to do with anything, but I felt it warranted mentioning.

I say this: Do what you're going to do. Learn what you need to learn and see what you need to see. Don't listen for an instant to anyone who says you are incapable of doing what you truly want to. If they get upset by you trying to live your life, it's really a matter of them being upset with themselves.
Fish wrote a Dr. Seuss quote on the bottom of one of his skateboards one time. It ended with this: “Those who mind don't matter, and those who matter don't mind."

Platitudes, platitudes, platitudes. {moscomment}

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FFDG's spring show "Salt the Skies" is set to open on Friday, March 21st (6-9pm) -- Featuring works by Brett Amory, John Felix Arnold, Mario Ayala, Jud Bergeron, Curiot (Favio Martinez), Christopher Burch, Lola Dupre, Michelle Fleck, Matt Gonzalez, Hiro Kurata, Marty Machado, Mark Mulroney, and Nicomi Nix Turner


Brian Barneclo's 225' Food Chain Mural

San Francisco based Brian Barneclo was commissioned in 2006 to paint a HUGE mural on the side of Foods Co on Shotwell at 14th Streets. After some time on its own, it got pretty taxed by misc graffiti and pigeon shit.





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Nychos Friday @Fifty24SF
Thursday, 17 April 2014 10:46

SAN FRANCISCO --- You've seen the murals pop up around town the last week from this Austrian street artist as he prepares for his solo show at Fifty24SF opening this Friday, 4/18.

GET THE SHOW DETAILS --- a bunch of NYCHOS

 

Banksy's Mobile Lovers
Wednesday, 16 April 2014 10:47

Speaking of Banksy (wait, were we speaking of Banksy?)... In any case, love his newest creation "Mobile Lovers" located in Bristol, England.

I love you, dear.... Huh? Wut?

 

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Wednesday, 16 June 2010 16:39


Jeremy Fish Opening a Solo Show in August at FFDG
Tuesday, 15 April 2014 09:33

Met up with Jeremy Fish last night to catch up and discuss his upcoming solo show opening this August at San Francisco's FFDG. Don't want to give too much away, but the guy is very busy these days. You know the giant pink bronze statue will be built and installed at the corner of Haight and Laguna welcoming those to the Haight (check) in 2015? Going to be incredible.

Check photos from his last San Francisco solo show in 2012, and mark your calendar for August as his next solo show opens at FFDG.

Beering with Fish at his favorite watering hole, Zeitgeist

 

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Wednesday, 25 April 2012 10:56

 

Statue Of A Homeless Jesus Startles A Wealthy Community
Monday, 14 April 2014 10:20

Sculpture of Jesus as homeless and sleeping on a park bench is "freaking out" the neighbors of this wealthy NC suburb. The sculptor, who has an affinity for street art, created it to remind us that "We believe that that's the kind of life Jesus had," Buck says. "He was, in essence, a homeless person." ~READ ON

 

Art or Vandalism? See the World’s First Graffiti Drone
Saturday, 12 April 2014 10:30

I attached a cradle with a spray paint can and other hardware to the drone. I created a series of paintings that are larger, about maybe 3 feet by 3 feet all the way up to 25 feet by 15 feet … And basically, I achieved the perfect air pressure, the perfect weight of the paint and the perfect materials so that the drone didn’t freak out when I attached these mechanisms to it, Katsu said. --continue reading

Think how high those throw ups can be now.

 

OB Shirt by Tucker Nichols
Thursday, 10 April 2014 11:01

Tucker Nichols emailed over this new OB shirt he did for our friends at Park Life which can purchased here for $28.

Speaking of Ocean Beach, if you know, you know, but if you don't... it's not what the average american thinks of when thinking of a California Beach (missing 14 yr. old yesterday). Can't believe we used to drunk naked swim at 3am in the dead if winter... being surfers probably helped us not dying.

 

Open House Sunday - Headland Center for the Arts
Friday, 11 April 2014 16:12

Have you been to the Headland Center for the Arts in the Marin Headlands?

Located in the beautiful ocean-side Golden Gate National Recreation Area, the Headlands artists programs support artists of all disciplines—from visual artists to performers, musicians, writers, and videographers—and provide opportunities for independent and collaborative creative work.

This Sunday's Open House runs 12-5pm - FREE & DETAILS

 

Is It Curtains For San Francisco's Art Scene?
Tuesday, 08 April 2014 09:35

We all know that San Francisco is going through aches and (growing?)/ shrinking artist pains these days as San Francisco property values sky rocket due to the tech infestation going on around the entire Bay Area. Maybe you work in tech and love it, but since this is an art website, we're interested to how this is affecting artists trying to make ends meet.

Some galleries have been forced to close due to 300% rent hikes. Many artists have fled to Oakland, LA and NYC in search of affordable housing and a more vibrant art scene... But we wanna know what you think of how it's going here in San Francisco. How are you making it work? What's your take on the art scene or lack there of? Do you think things are on the up and up or down and out here in San Francisco? Are artists a bunch of complainers and every thing looks great or is it curtains for San Francisco's artistic community? Thoughts

The Rena Bransten Gallery is packing up their 77 Geary space to make way for tech company MuleSoft

 

Nikki McClure at Needles & Pens, Friday 4/11
Wednesday, 09 April 2014 09:42

SAN FRANCISCO --- Nikki McClure, known for her painstakingly intricate and beautiful paper cuts, returns to Needles & Pens with an opening reception this Friday, April 11th - She'll be showing original papercuts for the book, "May the Stars Drip Down" - show details

This approach was born and bred out of the Olympia, Washington independent music scene. There, local artists emphasized everything handmade and self-published. The idea was to do a lot with a little. The result was a rich community sharing artistry and ideas. McClure found herself deeply embedded in this community which shaped an ethic of hands-on and accessible artmaking. - show details

 

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Wednesday, 25 August 2010 11:50


+SF

+NYC

+LA

FULL CALENDARS: BAY AREA | NYC | LA

 


 

 

 

John Felix Arnold III on the Road to NYC

Well, John Felix Arnold III is at it again. This time, he and Carolyn LeBourgios packed an entire show into the back of a Prius and drove across the country to install it at Superchief Gallery in NYC. I met with him last week as he told me about the trip over delicious burritos at Taqueria Cancun (which is right across the street from FFDG and serves what I think is the best burrito in the city) as the self proclaimed "Only overweight artist in the game" spilled all the details.


FRENCH in Melbourne

London based illustrator FRENCH recently held a show of new works at the Melbourne based Mild Manners


Henry Gunderson at Ever Gold, SF

Ever Gold opened a new solo show by NYC based Henry Gunderson a couple Saturday nights ago and it was literally packed. So packed I couldn't actually see most of the art - but a big crowd doesn't seem like a problem. I got a good laugh at what I would call the 'cock climbing wall' as it was one of the few pieces I could see over the crowd. I haven't gotten a chance to go back and check it all out again, but I'm definitely going to as the paintings that I could get a peek at were really high quality and intruiguing. You should do the same.


Mario Wagner @Hashimoto

Mario Wagner (Berkeley) opened his new solo show A Glow that Transfers Creativity last Saturday night at Hashimoto Contemporary in San Francisco.


Serge Gay Jr. @Spoke Art

The paintings in the show are each influenced by a musician, ranging from Freddy Mercury, to Madonna, to A Tribe Called Quest and they are so stylistically consistent with each musician's persona that they read as a cohesive body of work with incredible variation. If you told me they were each painted by a different person, I would not hesitate to believe you and it's really great to see a solo show with so much variety. The show is fun, poppy, very well done, and absolutely worth a look and maybe even a listen.


NYCHOS Mural on Ashbury and Haight

NYCHOS completed this great new mural on the corner of Haight and Ashbury in San Francisco on Tuesday. Looks Amazing.


Sun Milk in Vienna

With rising rent in SF and knowing mostly other young artists without capitol, I desired a way to live rent free, have a space to do my craft, and get to see more of the world. Inspired by the many historical artists who have longed similar longings I discovered the beauty of artist residencies. Lilo runs Adhoc Collective in Vienna which not only has a fully equipped artists creative studio, but an indoor halfpipe, and private artist quarters. It was like a modern day castle or skate cathedral. It exists in almost a utopic state, totally free to those that apply and come with a real passion for both art and skateboarding


"How To Lose Yourself Completely" by Bryan Schnelle

I just wanted to share with you a piece I recently finished which took me 4 years to complete. Titled "How To Lose Yourself Completely (The September Issue)", it consists of a copy of the September 2007 issue of Vogue magazine (the issue they made the documentary about) with all faces masked with a sharpie, and everything else entirely whited out. 840 pages of fun. -Bryan Schnelle


Tyler Bewley ~ Recent Works

Some great work from San Francisco based Tyler Bewley.


Kirk Maxson and Alexis Mackenzie at Eleanor Harwood Gallery

While walking our way across San Francisco on Saturday we swung through the opening receptions for Kirk Maxson and Alexis Mackenzie at Eleanor Harwood Gallery in the Mission.


Jeremy Fish Solo Show in Los Angeles

Jeremy Fish opens Hunting Trophies tonight, Saturday April 5th, at the Los Angeles based Mark Moore Gallery. The show features new work from Fish inside the "hunting lodge" where viewers climb inside the head of the hunter and explore the history of all the animals he's killed.


The Albatross and the Shipping Container

Beautiful piece entitled "The Albatross and the Shipping Container", Ink on Paper, Mounted to Panel, 47" Diameter, by San Francisco based Martin Machado now on display at FFDG. Stop in Saturday (1-6pm) to view the group show "Salt the Skies" now running through April 19th. 2277 Mission St. at 19th.


The Marsh Barge - Traveling the Mississippi River from Minnesota to the Gulf of Mexico

For some reason I thought it would be a good idea to quit my job, move out of my house, leave everything and travel again. So on August 21, 2013 I pushed a canoe packed full of gear into the headwaters of the Mississippi River in Lake Itasca, Minnesota, along with four of my best friends. Exactly 100 days later, I arrived at a marina near the Gulf of Mexico in a sailboat.


Flavio Samelo's Downtown Sao Paulo Murals

Our buddy Flavio Samelo down there in Brazil does all kinds of great work including this recent mural project in downtown Sao Paulo in front of one of the most important modern buildings of Oscar Niemeyer from the 60's, THE COPAN.


John Trippe, FFDG and Fecalface.com Founder, Stepping Down From Daily Operations

John Trippe, founder, owner and curator of FecalFace.com and the Mission District art gallery FFDG, announced today that he will stepping down from daily operations of the two ventures to seek new career opportunities.


High 5s - Get Your Feet Wet

I purchased one of the first digital cameras when Fecal Face went online in 2000. It was a massive Kodak with 2 mega pixels


"Touching Base" by Schuyler Beecroft

San Francisco based Schuyler Beecroft emailed over the great new series of paintings he's completed entitled "Touching Base", 16x20in on mounted wood panel. Like them.


Flume - Space Cadet (ft. Ghostface Killah & Autre Ne Veut)

Buddies Jay Howell & Jim Dirschberger did this great video produced by Forest City Rockers.


Fire Shelter for Papay Gyro Nights 2014

Last year we posted photos from another one of Simon Hjermind Jensen's Fire Shelters he's made in Copenhagen. This time around the Copenhagen based artist/ designer created one for the Papay Gyro Nights 2014 way up in on the Orkney Islands in Northern Scotland.


"Portrait of a Slugger 19" by Hiro Kurata

Beautiful painting by NYC based Hiro Kurata now on display at SF's FFDG through April 19th as part of the group show "Salt the Skies".


"Veins of Octulen" by Curiot at FFDG

"Salt the Skies" opened on the 21st at FFDG and features this great piece by Mexico City based Curiot (Favio Martinez) whose sold out 2013 show Age of Omuktlans ran at FFDG. His forthcoming solo show is slated for March 2015.


Rome's Alice Pasquini ~Mural+

Rome based multimedia artist Alice Pasquini emailed over a recent mural completed in the historic working class neighborhood of Rome called Tufello.


Project M/3 in Berlin curated by NUART

BERLIN --- Project M is a temporary art project with the objective to improve the neighborhood, to push creativity and to connect people. At regular intervals Urban Nation with director Yasha Young invites a group of internationally reclaimed contemporary urban artists to re-design the facade and shop windows of a prominent residential building in Berlin, while it is being reconstructed.


John French with Hasselblad by Lola Dupre

"John French with Hasselblad", photo collage/ hand cut paper on wooden panel, by Lola Dupre which will be part of tomorrow's opening of "Salt the Skies" at FFDG in San Francisco. 2277 Mission St. (6-9pm) - RSVP here.


"Salt the Skies" at FFDG Opening Fri, Mar 21st

FFDG's spring show "Salt the Skies" is set to open on Friday, March 21st (6-9pm) -- Featuring works by Brett Amory, John Felix Arnold, Mario Ayala, Jud Bergeron, Curiot (Favio Martinez), Christopher Burch, Lola Dupre, Michelle Fleck, Matt Gonzalez, Hiro Kurata, Marty Machado, Mark Mulroney, and Nicomi Nix Turner


Brian Barneclo's 225' Food Chain Mural

San Francisco based Brian Barneclo was commissioned in 2006 to paint a HUGE mural on the side of Foods Co on Shotwell at 14th Streets. After some time on its own, it got pretty taxed by misc graffiti and pigeon shit.


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