Letters (to the Penthouse Suite) #1 & #2 More Reasons Why
In a further reverberation from the Why We Ride article came this illustration from Nice Guy Jack.
Then came a related letter from OTS Friend Carlos with a mention to the award winning NYC fashion/foto blog called The Sartorialist...
for style....but this is the bike section..... http://thesartorialist.blogspot.com/search/label/Bicycles #3 California Correspondent Steve Reports In (Sort Of)... Hi - forgive the group mass-mailing - I wanted people to know that Rep Dennis Kucunich has introduced Article of Impeachment against George Bush in the House and needs help (calls to your Rep and Rep John Conyers, Head of the Judiciary Committee). If you are interested you can find more info and contact info for your Reps on my blog right here: http://occasional-occasion.blogspot.com/2008/06/hail-hail-freedonia.html
Which promtped this unfocused discussion with Correspondent Steve from San Luis Obisbo.
In talking to Steve the topic of Rail Bikes came up. Evidently, they are on the come back. (sin permiso) In looking through Steve's blog I found this hilarious WWII poster. Alright, no more with the impending apocalypse, I promise. (sin permiso) The Evolution of the Fist Bump Carrot + Wine (First Friday) ...said with rising intonation. ...and then around the corner was this closed door. The UTSA Satellite Space took the high road (or was it low road) and stayed out of the conversation. It was probably a good move. (When Tylenol was found with poison in the late 80s they pulled all their stock off the shelves for at least two months so that people wouldn't continue to associate them with the situation. Put another way, this First Friday was a letdown with almost nothing new to show.) It was a sad state. Probably the worst turnout I've seen, and the McNay Opening probably had a hand in that, so perhaps everyone else knew what was up. I went into a gallery and asked if there was a new show this month. I was told no. "Most people don't go every month," she said. "I usually do," I responded. "Really," said the woman at the gallery. Real awkward pause. "But did you read the artist description last time? You should really check that out." I read it and moved on. It's all very odd. In photography there's often a tendency to document dilipidation, of which San Antonio has plenty. But living here against that backdrop, it is the new developements and creations that feel more interesting to photograph. First Friday in some way represents that, usually. (Also, people who write "great" artist statements would probably write great legal rejoinders as well. It's that unlikely nexus between poetry and advertising, fantasty versus intent, and mountains out of molehills. That should be my art show - 4 walls plastered with nothing but artist statements. Perhaps it could be called "Faux Finishing"?) (When I first saw that rope for the third month in a row I considered hanging myself. It's like I was the guy who got soup spilled on him and had to walk around for another hour. Total schlimazel. First Friday would be the schlemiel, the soup spiller.) The side room at Blue Star - a small laboratory. The guitar made the room with its dramatic pose. Here, in the hallway outside 3 Walls and Cactus Bra I noticed this print. I also noticed Ben Judson on the way out. A group of artists were riding bikes over to the McNay. His review of First Friday, with no references to schlemiels or schlimazels, is here. The letter last week advertising this show kept thing minimal. I can't tell if this shot it out of focus or the electricity of the colors suggests movement. Upon closer inspection, the amperage lowers and creates a well designed maze. Lagniappes for the lovers. Of Mice and Women Next door at Cactus Bra a wake seemed to be occuring. Fotos of iconography lined the walls. And in the middle - a dead body. A mouse or two could be seen roaming around the body. A small line of people waited outside to enter. The show/performance was the highlight of First Friday. Through this death, there was life. The Los #3 Dinners get ready to go on the outside stage. I hadn't seen them for a while. There was a conversation of where was Bart the Dentist, but he wasn't in the band this night. A videographer from one of the local tv stations was there to document. At times I wondered if it was for a music video for them. The cameraman showed a dedication and excitement I didn't think local camermen would show. (The Former Mountain Time Zone) On the Street Correspondent Congressman Al (Reports In) Finally we get back in touch with the Congressman as he's now working in the music business. VP discussions abound and splinter outwards. Views from the Edge Before they re-opened the Sunken Gardens one might have found broken bottles of Colt .45, but now trash from Starbucks. Yes, this is progress. On the other side of the coin, I remember the water being clear enough to see huge novelty fish swimming around. Then again, this was more about the macroscopic view. OTS Insider Nico told me that a soft opening occurred here two weeks ago, and yet from the outside it's all what have you done for me lately. OTS historians might remember the community garden in Southtown that took awhile to get going. And here, this community coffee shop also is on San Antonio time. Coffee shops often aspire towards community but in reality they exist as a poor man's think tank with a sea of bodies jacked up on espresso and itunes, all in their own personal orbit. Together but apart. This place might actually be different. They don't seem to be motivated by making a profit at this point. The stuffed dear head will possibly summarize everything we need to know about this place when it finally opens. In other words, is this hipster ironic taxidermy or just a dead body? This is a spot that I'd admired while passing by but never had the camera. It's for a backhouse somewhere along Howard Street. It seems both intentional and accidental. I wonder how many people notice it. The painting itself isn't much but the weatherbeaten window frame somehow mixes right in with the waves. It's classic Americana but also feels French, like a quiet but maudlin scene from a Jean-Pierre Melville film. Maybe it is all about the dilapidation? And so goes another week on the streets of San Antonio. As always, to be continued...