Motorcycle and Frames

Motorcycles and Freedom. Painting is today as motorcycles are free, pay the price you live the dream man—pay the price. Surfing is the most conservative sport around—freedom always circles to a mould—a frame. Could be a nod to this—pay the price you live the dream man. But perhaps it is still as conservative as motorcycles and painting and surfing.

Freedom—you’re only as free as your Instagram account man. Pay the price you live the dream,  pay the price you’re free—as free as the newly paved downtown asphalt allows. Don’t scratch my Dodge RAM F450 man—I only just paid for my 6 new all season tires. Don’t scratch them on the curb man, it’s ok if my RAM sticks out—I have six tires and need the space man—

concrete cowboys unite

I wear my flames on the inside man, next to my dreadlocks. If I could use veggie oil in my motorcycle I would man—I hear thats possible, some bloke in Malaysia told me. Motorcycles and my flames on the inside man. 

motorcycles + flames

If I had a flamin’ motorcycle I’d play that fucking thing til my fingers bled man.

Motorcycles and flames is a title for a painting. A painting stapled down and stretched of life, attached to a frame man.

stretched and stapled

motorcycles and freedom

pay the price you live the dream man

freedom—frames—unite

motorcycles and flames

—Kate Moss

43.4 degrees

ocean swirls

blue sky open

empty easterly

comforts little

radiating heat

heats heat

afternoon breeze

shadow shadows

an oily distortion

vibrates sideways

moving weeds

blooming cracks

how one forgets

43.4 degrees

say no more

Robbie Basho, Visions of the Country

Visions—visions, listening to this album makes my heart feel heavy—heavy with feeling, real feeling. It feels good to feel something in this technology mediated world. Music—sensation— music created from the sensations generated by a landscape.

paper lint cobwebs

From Bartleby Review

Issue 25, December, 2014

paper lint cobwebs           Kate Moss

Yugi Agematsu

‘Caretakers’

Artspeak

233 Carral Street

Through October 25

Paper lint cobwebs

Paper and lint—hung from fishhook like cobwebs 

Tape—bundled and pinned—wonky pins

A computer chip met wire—twisted entangled wire—pinned on the under side.

The gallery is stretched

Table in centre---cobwebs pinned on the underside—objects on top. 

No lights—lights removed—overhead lights—tracks removed

objects pinned—resting like specimens on the surface.

Thought of layered burnout drawings of decay

but this—this was alive

the gallery 

not detached from the street—no frames—

sandwiched between Gastown and the Downtown Eastside

The gallery is stretched 

human hair—discarded rubber—elegant lines on a silver plain

12 white steel legs—six on each side attached to timber supporting a sheet of MDF—

on a smooth surface painted silver the objects are placed.

At waist height the support became a stage upon which the objects were composed

This was a painting

Thought of—the silver surface—dancers performing—a muted palette—a stage 

where sourced imagery is performed

But these objects were alive—performing in time with the natural light

ciggy butts—doobie roaches—a maroon stained ciggy butt

a matchbook dancing

shattered glass—covered in foil

familiar white headphones meet rubber remains—a figure in motion 

In motion—objects collected in motion.

The streets of New York met Portland and Vancouver

removed from living but not from life. 

Materials removed from life—vibrating with rhythm—objects static—yet vibrating—

objects become material vibrating with the rhythms of life. 

The sounds of the street in New York met the noise outside—this is a sound piece—more electric than 

The performance at Skylight Gallery—this is living sound—materials imbued with sound—intemingling sound—inside and outside

The gallery is stretched

Gertrude Stein wrote “The composition is the thing seen by every one living in the living that they are doing, they are the composing of the composition that at the time they are living is the composition of the time in which they are living.”

Living— breathing time—at this time—objects in time—objects composed of time—material time.

The light changes

The gallery is stretched

applause @ sunset

Opens
@
Sunset Terrace

Thurs April 16th, 2015
2015

studio visit tape jam

gretchen snakes

i spent today strolling backwards on lush properties in the Southlands area of Vancouver. Backpack blower strapped upon my back—making piles of leaves to be raked, thrown on a tarp and carted back to the truck.
                                red, rust, coral, yellow birch, the ones from the tree that smells like brown sugar—so many colours—so many new tree names to learn.

a couple of months ago Gretchen Snakes performed the song sour cream at the lido in Vancouver—an 8 hour epic.  My friend Alexi visited me soon after when I was sitting at the gallery one sunny Saturday afternoon. He had just received a copy of the recording and we sat and listened to it between cups of tea and conversation.

                                        5pm came around quickly

only a few hours in—sun streaming through the windows—bicycles and an outside adventure called—it was a wonderful afternoon.

Lucky for me Lex sent me the song and today—last day gardening for the season/first day with music on the job—sour cream was the soundtrack to the leaves dancing in the wind before me.

For 8 hours a whole body in time—the leaves ahead—sound in ears—4 bodies recorded in time—ahead of time—leafy lines meet distortion time.

                   it's 2.30am—body still pulsing with rhythm—in time—with time—spent outside moving line—stuck inside rhythm line—another time—a guitar line—guitar line—many lines—bass line—one time—a weaving line—kick drum keeps time—bodily line—leaf line—pulsing time—
               
                                                                                                                             sleep line

Here's a taster—they rule
http://gretchensnakes.bandcamp.com/

studio jamin' @ shore line

good moves
shore line
broken stick
                              two lines
                              new moves @ shore line

                                                      new lines
                                                     shore time
                                                     far out
                                                     in time

brain space=living space=writing thesis....remember livin!

keep it moving!

thanks aaron x

future dude

part II

A solo—in mono//two time//two too time///a solo in two time—one body two times—two bodies one time—two bodies—stereo time.

                                                                             The studio one time—converging many times—two time—three time—four time—many time—many times in time—off beat—out of time—exit studio gather more time—weaving line—day time, night time, beach time, preach time, think time, drink time, listen time, look time, smell time, book time, in time, out time, tuning time, loosing time—sun meets horizon line.

lock up you daughters... holy shirtless flying v solo!

waking to the sound of stone against the window

a boot + a line

A Boot and a Line is a group show featuring Vancouver based artists:

Laura Piasta, Johan Björck, Aaron Carter and Kate Moss curated by SHOWROOM. 

FM Vernissage: Bar Talk #1 by Filip Mayer

http://malmoshowroom.tumblr.com/

gone troppo

listening to lucid dreams- saturday may 10, 2014

I'm sitting here and large grey rain clouds are muscling in on the mountain view outside my window. I'm writing to my new professor for the poetry class i am taking in the summer and itunes is on shuffle. Bonnie Tyler was just singing to me and everyone out there about needing a hero, i wasn't really listening to her too seriously (sorry Bonnie, I do respect you but in this moment your voice did not pull me from the task at hand). 

Georgia starts in, the guitar sounds live and I can hear her fingers moving full of life as she noodles from chord to chord—and in this moment i'm right there with her. Amy's bass fills the room—it's so casually present like that epic old friend you have that you only see every once in a while and you can hang out in silence and it's never uncomfortable. For a second I can feel her giving me a nod—a cue to start playing, only right now it's a cue to remember. A cue to remember that feeling of being on stage surrounded by your closest friends, feeling alive, immersed in the moment, when you are all moving together, bodies moving in different ways but in time—sometimes out of time—sometimes out of tune—but always together at the same time. 

Our thoughts can drift off, our thoughts can drift off out of our bodies, project out into the room through our moving hands, meeting other thoughts circulating in the room—adding to the sounds that fill the room. Right now their sound is filling my room, the sound of their sound filling the echoing room of the Northcote Social Club, recorded in July 2013, I imagine the clouds blocking my mountain view were similar to the ones outside those walls at the time. I imagine them seeking refuge in the heated beer garden after the show drinking pots, smoking ciggies and the laughing and banter that flows.

Harriet’s vocals kick in, I don't know if she feels the words she's singing about anymore but she's feeling something and I can feel it too, I feel them so much they send a tingle down my spine—I know this may sound like a fucking cliche but it's true and I'm not afraid to say it. I was just reading Eileen Myles interviewing Ntozake Shange about her poems, Eileen says her poems create a dialogue about being in the world and Ntozake replies "when we listen to music we don't sit around thinking about how to play a saxaphone. I would rather you not think about how the poem's constructed but simply be in it with me." After reading this quote I underlined it in blue pencil and wrote believe in something for a moment—the beginnings of something to write about, but the school of radiant living completed this thought for me by playing in Melbourne on a cold July night and recording it. Listening to music is like reading a poem.

it's hard to get loose when your working in ms word

loosening the letters on one line one one line loosening the letters on one line line l i n e 
won line one liner on one line in linear form on one line one one line two line line
three line three times line three times a line three time two time one time this time on time this line

(now repeat in the tune of iron man, black sabbath)

dear spirit of '76

love mister horsepower