Rogue Art Research & Writing Journal
November 5, 2012
View Article
http://rarw-ca.com/CurrentIssue/page1.html#CeciN
Ceci N'est Pas L'Art
By Michelle Lepori
a-nom-a-ly
n. pl. a-nom-a-lies
1. Deviation or departure from the normal or common order, form, or rule.
2. One that is peculiar, irregular, abnormal, or difficult to classify: "Both men are anomalies: they have... likable personalities but each has made his reputation as a heavy" (David Pauly).
3. Astronomy The angular deviation, as observed from the sun, of a planet from its perihelion.
With the alien eyed deer of Jennybird Alcantara's, Strange Fruit, fresh in mind I drove 20 mph on a two lane half mooned country highway alone. Winding up a cliff to Groveland, California, the signs warned of deer crossings and every once in awhile a monstrous lake would emerge out of the darkness to distract from the road with glimmering waves. The wide spaced eyes of lake folk and their mutant fish tongue after me. I drive with imagery of artist Scott G. Brooks forcing me to stay alert and push on. The merger of reality and fantasy had begun with a Bergamot Station visit to Copro Gallery for the Anomalies show. It was one long journey from LA to Sacramento and then back south to Yosemite.
Nothing like exhaustion and creative saturation to create perfect
anomalies. I arrive at the state's oldest bar and rumored once brothel,
Iron Door Saloon. It is Friday night and I am here to catch The Paul
Chesne Band aka PCB. Stephen Tegel is on bass with his animal, deep from
Satan's seed, psychic crow style. Denny Weston Jr. of the Kooks, sits
in on drums wearing the mythological Bill Graham’s old party hat. John
Niemann plays keys on a stacked Nord Electro 2 with a Korg VK7. From
the shadows of stage, hipster Link Wray cowboy, Josh Norton, melanges
his Fender Stratocaster with the group. The radio is playing KC and the
Sunshine Band, "My Boogie Shoes." They riff off that old disco jam into a
musical blend that makes as much sense as a paraplegic boy fishing with
a pole for an arm. But it works and it works beautifully. Chesne stares
out with the same intensity and face of artist Beau White's, The
Angler. "How to Get to Sesame Street" melts into Tears for Fears,
"Everybody wants to Rule the World", to a PCB original, "Off Shore Bank
Accounts". Their set ranges from “I got Five on it†to "Dream a
Little Dream". I heard The Pointer Sisters, Eminem, Adele, The Ghost
Busters theme song and a most fitting rendition of "SAIL" by
AwolNation. There is no apology.
"Maybe I should cry for help, maybe I should kill myself (myself). Blame
it on my A.D.D. baby". Perhaps, but it is the tension of chaotic
difference and exaltation that is creating such moving artworks in both
gallery and stage performance. Paul Chesne is a hyper intelligent ass
clown in a safety orange space suit, who jumps on the bar top with his
battered guitar in hand. After several rowdy songs you might think this
guy's a menace. But he always seems in control and perfectly observant
of the mayhem he seeks to create. I feel I am in on a very good secret.
The improvisational and elaborate sound creates an expansion of energy
rocketing into outer space with commander and crew. Rap and folk rock
classics are interspersed with original works, not only ignoring genre
but avoiding the very idea of musical distinction. It is artistic
mastery that allows experimentation found at Copro Gallery and PCB to be
absorbed and congratulated. These artists are weird, but they are so
good. Their uniquity and confidence lends encouragement, I too can
pursue my art with reckless abandon. Wherever it leads me. This is why I
drove an extra 200 miles in the dark. To lose judgement and watch
layers of strange identity be formed with artistic bravado. To watch and
emulate that strength of self.
I come home, this time in the daylight. I can see now, though the roads are still windy and misleading. Between the odd paintings and sculptures at Copro Gallery in Bergamot and LA based Paul Chesne band playing Groveland, I am a cultural tumbleweed. I was wowed by the precision and dedication to nose hairs in life sized Beavis and Butthead statues. I danced with a few-toothed young cowboy to Eminem played by a spaceman. As a naturally self conscious person, these artistic experiences taught a compassion for individuality that allowed me joy as I drove alone on unknown roads.
Anomalies at Copro Gallery
Bergamot Station T5
2525 Michigan Ave
Santa Monica, CA
310- 829-2156
http://www.copronason.com/bein/
The Paul Chesne Band
http://paulchesne.com/
Iron Door Saloon
www.iron-door-saloon.com
http://rarw-ca.com/CurrentIssue/page1.html#CeciN
Ceci N'est Pas L'Art
By Michelle Lepori
a-nom-a-ly
n. pl. a-nom-a-lies
1. Deviation or departure from the normal or common order, form, or rule.
2. One that is peculiar, irregular, abnormal, or difficult to classify: "Both men are anomalies: they have... likable personalities but each has made his reputation as a heavy" (David Pauly).
3. Astronomy The angular deviation, as observed from the sun, of a planet from its perihelion.
With the alien eyed deer of Jennybird Alcantara's, Strange Fruit, fresh in mind I drove 20 mph on a two lane half mooned country highway alone. Winding up a cliff to Groveland, California, the signs warned of deer crossings and every once in awhile a monstrous lake would emerge out of the darkness to distract from the road with glimmering waves. The wide spaced eyes of lake folk and their mutant fish tongue after me. I drive with imagery of artist Scott G. Brooks forcing me to stay alert and push on. The merger of reality and fantasy had begun with a Bergamot Station visit to Copro Gallery for the Anomalies show. It was one long journey from LA to Sacramento and then back south to Yosemite.
Nothing like exhaustion and creative saturation to create perfect
anomalies. I arrive at the state's oldest bar and rumored once brothel,
Iron Door Saloon. It is Friday night and I am here to catch The Paul
Chesne Band aka PCB. Stephen Tegel is on bass with his animal, deep from
Satan's seed, psychic crow style. Denny Weston Jr. of the Kooks, sits
in on drums wearing the mythological Bill Graham’s old party hat. John
Niemann plays keys on a stacked Nord Electro 2 with a Korg VK7. From
the shadows of stage, hipster Link Wray cowboy, Josh Norton, melanges
his Fender Stratocaster with the group. The radio is playing KC and the
Sunshine Band, "My Boogie Shoes." They riff off that old disco jam into a
musical blend that makes as much sense as a paraplegic boy fishing with
a pole for an arm. But it works and it works beautifully. Chesne stares
out with the same intensity and face of artist Beau White's, The
Angler. "How to Get to Sesame Street" melts into Tears for Fears,
"Everybody wants to Rule the World", to a PCB original, "Off Shore Bank
Accounts". Their set ranges from “I got Five on it†to "Dream a
Little Dream". I heard The Pointer Sisters, Eminem, Adele, The Ghost
Busters theme song and a most fitting rendition of "SAIL" by
AwolNation. There is no apology.
"Maybe I should cry for help, maybe I should kill myself (myself). Blame
it on my A.D.D. baby". Perhaps, but it is the tension of chaotic
difference and exaltation that is creating such moving artworks in both
gallery and stage performance. Paul Chesne is a hyper intelligent ass
clown in a safety orange space suit, who jumps on the bar top with his
battered guitar in hand. After several rowdy songs you might think this
guy's a menace. But he always seems in control and perfectly observant
of the mayhem he seeks to create. I feel I am in on a very good secret.
The improvisational and elaborate sound creates an expansion of energy
rocketing into outer space with commander and crew. Rap and folk rock
classics are interspersed with original works, not only ignoring genre
but avoiding the very idea of musical distinction. It is artistic
mastery that allows experimentation found at Copro Gallery and PCB to be
absorbed and congratulated. These artists are weird, but they are so
good. Their uniquity and confidence lends encouragement, I too can
pursue my art with reckless abandon. Wherever it leads me. This is why I
drove an extra 200 miles in the dark. To lose judgement and watch
layers of strange identity be formed with artistic bravado. To watch and
emulate that strength of self.
I come home, this time in the daylight. I can see now, though the roads are still windy and misleading. Between the odd paintings and sculptures at Copro Gallery in Bergamot and LA based Paul Chesne band playing Groveland, I am a cultural tumbleweed. I was wowed by the precision and dedication to nose hairs in life sized Beavis and Butthead statues. I danced with a few-toothed young cowboy to Eminem played by a spaceman. As a naturally self conscious person, these artistic experiences taught a compassion for individuality that allowed me joy as I drove alone on unknown roads.
Anomalies at Copro Gallery
Bergamot Station T5
2525 Michigan Ave
Santa Monica, CA
310- 829-2156
http://www.copronason.com/bein/
The Paul Chesne Band
http://paulchesne.com/
Iron Door Saloon
www.iron-door-saloon.com
No comments:
Post a Comment