Art Heroes: Andres Serrano

The piece after the vandals destroyed it

I was in college finishing my degree in Toledo when the question of funding the National Endowment for the Arts came under fire in the senate. Jesse Helms was the chief complainer, bringing forward Andres Serrano and his piece “Piss Christ” as an example of why the government shouldn’t be funding artwork. Serrano has always been one of my heroes due to the button pushing nature of his artwork. I also love the fact that he uses religious imagery, most of it in a respectful and quite lovely nature. However, “Piss Christ” although beautiful, doesn’t sit well with many. My first year of teaching at Columbia Central created a bit of controversy when one of my students created a replica of Michelangelo’s “David” fully nude with the word “Censorship” hidden in his pubic area. The piece was banned at the local high school art show at the mall and the Cit Pat did a front page article decrying the censorship. But in an ironic moment of hypocrisy chose not to show the full piece of art in the paper. I wrote to Serrano and shared with him the censorship by the mall. Melissa, the artist who created the piece was devastated that the piece didn’t get its showing with her fellow students, so I suggested she add her thoughts as well. We were thrilled when we received a hand-written letter back from Serrano. It is one of my prized possessions. Here is the letter:


Dear Thomas,


I am sorry that I wasn’t able to respond to your letter earlier, but I have been traveling a great deal lately. It is unfortunate that one of your young students had her drawing yanked from an art how. She should realize though that an artist can make work that will be interpreted or misinterpreted by the public. This is not necessarily a reflection of the artist’s intent or talent. The beauty of art is in its power to incite or provoke thought. After all, if art did not cause a fuss now and then things would be very boring. What you have to remember is that the best provocation is sometimes unintentional. As such, it can cause an artist a great deal of confusion when his or her art comes under attack. If your students want to become artists, then so be it. Some will go on to become rich and famous and others won’t. I don’t know which is better.


Sincerely,


A.S.

Recently, a copy of “Piss Christ” was vandalized in Paris, bringing this amazing, but controversial piece back to the limelight twenty some years after its creation.

More on the piece’s destruction here: http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2011/apr/18/andres-serrano-piss-christ-destroyed-christian-protesters

Tales of the Kitteh: Rumspringa Edition

Several months after Edwin came to live with us, he began to hole up in the basement much like Greg Brady moving to the attic of the Brady house to exert his independence and get his hippy groove on. After we all left for the day, Edwin would venture to the basement and perch on my studio chair and watch for mice. After we went to bed, he went back down for the night shift with Yukon sleeping in his pen. We loved the fact that our mouse population dropped, as they can just walk into our house through Yukon’s massive dog door. But just as the mice can come in, we worried that Edwin would try to venture out, and sure enough, he did just that the other day. I noticed that he had not shown up for our morning get together in the bathroom. Before I left for work, I searched the house up and down and he was nowhere to be found. I sighed and headed in to work keeping my eyes open for him (or a kitty cookie on the road) as I drove. He is chipped, so we took comfort in the fact that if he did show up somewhere, they could scan him and get his digits and get ahold of us to claim him.


I got home Tuesday and spent the afternoon walking around trying to find him around our house and the neighborhood. Anna was aware that he was missing and got a little sniffy talking about missing him. On Wednesday, I went to the animal shelter and walked with the woman as we peered into cage after cage of meowing kitties. Note to self: DO NOT GO TO THE SHELTER ON A GRAY, RAINY DAY AGAIN. Holy shit, I don’t know how those people work there. It was very sad.

Anna and I had a talk on the porch Thursday morning while we waited for her bus. She said that she missed him and that she was really sad that she left. I had to explain to her that sometimes animals got out and they would come back. But sometimes they didn’t. I asked her if she was ready to accept that fact and she started crying and buried her face in my chest. We both got it together moments before her bus pulled up and she went on her way. I did the walk around the house and sadly got into my car for my last day at work for the semester.

After a day of critiques and petty excuses from my students, I was mentally and emotionally wiped out. I had shared with Tod my sadness with Edwin leaving as he is an awesome cat, so add that to the stress of work and it was pretty draining. However, the phone rang about four o’clock and it was Tod shouting that Edwin was back. I got a little misty as he began to share the details of finding him waiting and meowing on our porch when he and the kids got home. Anna apparently flew to the porch and ran inside to slam the basement door shut keeping away from his escape route. Yes, we will be refiguring the basement to prevent this kind of escape again.

My heart soared and I could hardly wait to get home and see him again. After three days of worrying about him and his Kitty Rumspringa I was happy to see him and listen to his very loud purr. As I sat on the couch watching Ab Fab while Tod did grades, Edwin crawled up into my lap, flipped over so I could rub his belly, and promptly fell asleep.

Yes Edwin, there’s no place like home.

Finally going to Where the Wild Things Are!

So we finally got around to watching “Where the Wild Things Are” last night. Almost two years after its theatrical release. I won’t lie that I was excited to see this film, but I was also quite nervous, which is probably why I waited so long to actually sit down and watch it.


It has many things going for it:

1. The story, natch. Who can resist that?

2. Spike Jonze

3. Groovy soundtrack featuring Karen O from the Yeah Yeah Yeahs.

So why the delay? First off, we got busy. Eli moved in shortly before that and our lives were changed. Sitting down to watch anything became a chore (it’s getting better) and frankly we are too tired to go out to see a film in the theatre. While we were waiting though, I did manage to get my arm/tattoo/sleeve done with Max and his epic proclamation: Let the wild rumpus start! It was a huge hit in New Orleans at the Prime Time Family Reading training. I can’t tell you how many of the story tellers and other book-nerds in attendance took a picture of my arm.

I love the story, and I guess that it what concerned me. How do you take a book that has less than a paragraph of writing and turn it into a feature film? Jonze worked with Dave Eggers to create the screenplay, and according to what I have read, Maurice Sendak gave his blessing to the final write. I read Egger’s Zeitoun, a horrific but extremely readable tale about post-Katrina New Orleans. I couldn’t put it down. No really, trust me on this one.

So after a sugar-fueled day of naughtiness and bad behavior, we sat down to watch the film after our own Wild Things were tucked in bed, or so we thought. We knew Anna would be interested in the film, as she loves the story, but we knew that there were things in this movie that we might not want her to see. We were glad she wasn’t there, as the film is way beyond her ken right now. However, Maxine appeared about 20 minutes into the film and demanded that she be able to watch it with us. NO, we said, and sent her back to the room. The film is a noisy one, and I love our sound system, especially in the attic. Movies are amazing, especially loud ones. But, we were good parents and turned off the goodies and turned down the volume so she would go to sleep. We think she saw some bits of the film, but we told her that she had to be older to watch it. Didn’t give her a number, just said older and she seemed to be okay with that.

I loved the first part of the film, as it visualized what Sendak had drawn in live action. The characters, un-named in the book, now have names and personalities, and I loved them all. I found myself tearing up as Max got the party started in the film with great enthusiasm and loved the monster pile. What fun. But after they milked the book, it got weird. I had read parts of Egger’s screenplay in the New Yorker and loved what I read, but I didn’t like how it fleshed out on the screen. I found the Wild Things and their issues to be a bit much and not in the realm of the story. I honestly got a little bored. But as the climax came about, and Max returns home (no spoilers, trust me, if you’ve read the book, you know how it ends) I identified more with Max’s mom than him, even though he is who is on my arm. As she slipped into slumber at the table looking at her little Wild Thing full of love and devotion, I caught myself once again tearing up as I have stared in amazement and horror at my own little Wild Things the same way at the dinner table as they create their own rumpus over the night’s meal. Yes, the book came out the year before I was born, and I will always love it. But now I understand that Wild Things do grow up; I just hope they never forget their younger, wilder days.

Thanks Maurice for a wonderful book, and thanks to Spike for taking it to the next level.

Easter Greetings

From all of us here at JH2D, have a great Easter.

Times, they are a changin’: a belated 4:20 post.

When I taught high school, I told my students that they could not make the following items:

1. Ashtrays

2. Bongs

3. Pipes

There were many reasons, first of being the fact that these items are for activities that were illegal for high school students to take part in at any level. “But the ashtray is for my Mom for Mother’s Day!” they would whine. I would retort that if they really loved her, they would encourage her to quit smoking instead of encouraging it by giving her an ashtray.

As for the pipes and bongs, there was the issue of safety, not to mention the illegal status of the pot. We fired at a very low temp so the clay was still fragile. I had heard a story about a woman who was hurt at a music festival when her pipe exploded in her face due to the high heat created by drawing on the burning um, tobacco on the fragile clay. I would share these horror stories, as well as listen to their excuses:

1. It’s a bubble pipe for my niece/nephew

2. It’s for my grandpa who smokes a pipe

3. It’s a musical instrument. I forgot to drill the holes. Can you fire it anyway?

I even had one moron open the kiln mid fire and tossed his pipe into the glowing chamber. It began to pop and explode a few moments later and ruined the top shelf of artwork being glaze fired. I made sure to tell the students who ruined their artwork.

But now it’s a different time. I have not mellowed with age, but I am seeing more paraphernalia being made in my studio at JCC on a regular basis. With the new medical marijuana laws, it’s becoming an everyday occurrence to drive by dispensaries and supply stores. What was once a rather clandestine activity is now literally out on Main Street in full view. One of my students makes $2500 a month growing pot for her client base.

Holy Herb Bongman! That’s a lot of cash for grass.

Let me think about this for a minute. We have a big basement, plenty of light, and a big ferocious dog. I may have to look into this second career option.

Ted Nugent and reality

Former rocker, and Sarah Palin’s grandpa, Ted Nugent is back in the very dim spotlight again after posting an opinion piece in the Washington Times. Here are some of the highlights:


Basketball superstar Kobe Bryant was socked with a $100,000 fine by the NBA last week for calling a referee what the NBA thinks is a derogatory, ugly and vile name. To be exact, Mr. Bryant committed this egregious verbal foul because he used a word demeaning to homosexuals, the most protected class of people in America.

If the NBA had any true gay convictions, the NBA should host a Homosexual Night. During halftime, the homosexuals could come down on the court, hold hands and prance around the court to music by the Village People. The NBA could then give each homosexual a pink basketball as a symbol of solidarity.

Homosexuals are a protected class in America. If you think what happened to Mr. Bryant was a travesty, just wait until you see what homosexuals in the military do when they claim they have been mistreated because of their sexual orientation.

Let’s break this down for Uncle Ted:

1. Yes, Kobe was rightfully punished for what he did. He was at work, doing his job, and he chose to use language that was inappropriate. If I am teaching at the college and I call one of my students an “Inbred-Texas-hillbilly-pig-fucker” there will be consequences. H.R. will be all over me (like stink on said pig). I don’t think I would get a $100,000 fine, I’d probably get fired.

2. It’s about respect. The official, whether Kobe agrees with him or not, is there to keep the game fair and within the rules. Ted always talks about respect in his rants, but when things like this come up, the issue of respect is out the door in favor of free speech. It’s funny how the Right is like that.

3. Protected class? Are you using drugs again? Please show me how I am a protected class in this homophobic society/country. If you can show me that my rights as a gay man are right up there with your rights as a straight man, we’ll talk. Until then, STFU.

NOT in the Village People?

4. NBA and homosexual night? Really? That just doesn’t trip over the tongue now does it? Come to think of it, neither does “Cat Scratch Fever” but that’s another topic. How about NBGay night? That has a ring to it. And, the Village People? Maybe on a Retro NBGay night. Teddy, we’re all about the Gaga now, catch up. And, by the way Ted, were you in the Village People at one time? God bless the internetz.

While I am all about supporting the First Amendment, just as feverishly as Ted supports the Second Amendment, I draw the line at speech that borders on hate speech. Had the situation been turned and the ref said “Fuckin’ n*gger” to Kobe, it would have not been tolerated either, and the ref would have probably been fired, not fined. Both the N and the F word are loaded words, and they bring a lot of emotion and controversy when they are used. The NBA did the right thing and I applaud them for their actions. However, I am all about the MLB right now and am busy stalking Brian Wilson (and his amazing beard) of the San Francisco Giants.

Links if you must:

Ted’s rant is here: http://www.washingtontimes.com/news/2011/apr/19/nbas-gay-gag-order/?page=1

The always informative Towleroad had the first post I saw about this: http://www.towleroad.com/2011/04/rocker-ted-nugent-rips-nba-for-fining-kobe-bryants-anti-gay-slur.html

Carol Burnett and Friends: Thanks for the memories

When I first came out as a teenager back in the 80’s, my parents wondered what every parent wonders… WHAT DID I DO? Well Marty and Dick, let me tell you: You let me watch the Carol Burnett show on T.V.

Aside from old Looney Toons, Laugh-In, and Match Game, nothing had a bigger impact on my sense of humor and what I consider funny as an adult. I didn’t always get the show, as some of the innuendoes were way over my head, but watching it in reruns now, it’s a wonder I’m not an alcoholic drag queen in West Palm Beach. I always remember my parents laughing out of control and my Mom doing her war whoop laugh (the one she does when something is too funny and sends us into spasms of both laughter and embarrassment) as Carol and her minions did their work. The true acid test of any comedian/comedy will be the test of time. The show might be thirty years old, but they still hit the mark and continue to make me laugh even to this day.

The college hosted Tim Conway and Harvey a few years back, so Tod and I bought tickets for both of our parents. We all giggled through their great set of both old and new material, all of it spot on after a few decades. Afterwards, the person in charge of the booking got us backstage so I could meet them both. I was in awe to be around such greatness as Harvey is freakishly tall and Tim is pretty short. I shook both of their hands and asked for autographs (natch) and struggled to keep my composure as I told them how much I loved them and their work. I didn’t tell them that they made me Gay, although I really wanted to. I would love to be able to have a conversation with Freddie Mercury, Charles Nelson Riley, and a whole bunch of other guys who are gone now and tell them how much they influenced me as a young homo.

Vicki Lawrence was at the college with her "Mama" tour, and since we were out of town I asked the lady in charge if I could at least get her autograph to complete my collection since we couldn’t see the show. I kind of feel like a serial killer collecting heads or something, but now, my collection is complete: I have the four biggies at last.

So readers, what is your favorite Carol Burnett Show memory? Me, it would have to be Carol as the Queen and Tim Conway as the hollow soldier who has to get the medal from her. Fun fun fun. And who can forget Mrs. Wiggins? I would kill to have a secretary like that. Comment and let me know your favorite memory. If you are too young or are scratching your head and wondering what I am talking about, please see the Amazon link above and order it so you too can feel the joy.

Carol, Harvey, Tim, and now, Vicki, you’ll all live together in my memory as well as in the snappy multi-paned frame I buy to house you all. I'm so glad we had this time together!