It’s July in NYC and I’m bored.
So when I was doom scrolling and saw an open call for art from O’Flahrety’s, an art gallery that could easily pass for a dive bar at 55 Avenue C in NYC I thought what the hell. I gave them a big greasy porcelain jug proclaiming “Up With Finks” on it and a stinky finger on the back, it sort of captures my mood lately. Come down to the opening on July 14th at 8pm for a hot and sweaty time.
If you squint it might actually look like the east village of 1994 when I lived in a squat with five other people just around the corner. Ahh, the good old days.
Until I see you at the opening
Here is a mixed tape to listen to, so you can hear what I’ve got playing in the studio this month. Enjoy.
Listen to the July Mixed Tape
Earlier this week I was interviewed for The Large Glass, an art-talk-show-cocktail-hour. Check out this rambling conversation about life, art and some things I’ve been making in the studio. It was fun.
I adore Janis Joplin
My mom didn’t sing lullaby’s to me as a kid, she played Janis Joplin on the record player, and I am so glad she did. Listening to this version of Summertime led me to a gorgeous poem by the fantastic writer Jericho Brown. Dig this…
"Track 5: Summertime: As performed by Janis Joplin."
God’s got his eye on me, but I ain’t a sparrow.
I’m more like a lawn mower . . . no, a chainsaw,
Anything that might mangle each manicured lawn
In Port Arthur, a place I wouldn’t return to
If the mayor offered me every ounce of oil
My daddy cans at the refinery. My voice, I mean,
Ain’t sweet. Nothing nice about it. It won’t fly
Even with Jesus watching. I don’t believe in Jesus.
The Baxter boys climbed a tree just to throw
Persimmons at me. The good and perfect gifts
From above hit like lightning, leave bruises.
So I lied—I believe, but I don’t think God
Likes me. The girls in the locker room slapped
Dirty pads across my face. They called me
Bitch, but I never bit back. I ain’t a dog.
Chainsaw, I say. My voice hacks at you. I bet
I tear my throat. I try so hard to sound jagged.
I get high and say one thing so many times
Like Willie Baker who worked across the street—
Repeated, Please. School out, summertime
And the living lashed, Mama said I should be
Thankful, that the town’s worse to coloreds
Than they are to me, that I’d grow out of my acne.
God must love Willie Baker—all that leather and still
A please that sounds like music. See.
I wouldn’t know a sparrow from a mockingbird.
The band plays. I just belt out, Please. This tune
Ain’t half the blues. I should be thankful.
I get high and moan like a lawn mower
So nobody notices I’m such an ugly girl.
I’m such an ugly girl. I try to sing like a man
Boys call, boy. I turn my face to God. I pray. I wish
I could pour oil on everything green in Port Arthur.
Brown, Jericho. "Track 5: Summertime: As performed by Janis Joplin." Callaloo, vol. 32 no. 1, 2009, p. 72-72. Project MUSE, doi:10.1353/cal.0.0298.
In the studio lately
I’ve been working on some new things including some paintings, prints and drawings. Here’s a peak at what’ve been up to lately.
Studio visit video and interview with Andrew Cornell Robinson in conjunction with an online exhibition with NY Artists Equity Gallery, featuring new work created during the pandemic quarantine.